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@koizekomi
୨୧ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
komi , 22 , she/her
you are appreciated. you are enough. you are loved.
mdni + ageless/blank accs will be blocked
other accs: @kitsomi (dedicated to jjk, haikyuu, & lads) and @regkitblack (dedicated to the marauders)
masterlist + rules
yeah i’m jus gonna make an acc dedicated to jjk & lads idk
despite the commonly cocky act that ATSUMU puts up, he is a real loverboy. he gets so incredibly whipped for his girl that, frankly, it is embarrassing. everyone is sick of the doughy look he gets in his eyes if you are so much as in his line of vision, let alone close. he sees the flecks of colour in your eyes, smells the faintest bit of your perfume, and simply melts. he becomes a mass of wax liquidizing into you and forming to the shape of your body, the imprint of you forever left on him. he carries his love like a physical weight — not a burden, but something to be proud of holding.
atsumu is a loud lover. not with his words, but with his being. your love is ever present in the eyes of others, known by all and then some. but it is when you are alone that really makes your chest warm. you could take now for example; the sound of the door clicking shut behind him and his heavy footsteps bounding toward where you stand in the kitchen say well enough about the sucky mood he is in.
it really is not his fault. he walks in, tired after a long day. his hands ache from impact, eyes stinging with exhaustion. and then you are there, standing with your back to him, looking so inviting and warm as you saunter around your shared living space. it makes something in his heart twist in a warm, fond sort of way, and before he knows it he is padding over to you. his rough hands are doing an oddly boyish, clingy action as they wrap around you and fist your shirt, face pressing into the back of your shoulder.
his weight sags against you, nearly knocking you into the counter. you put down the fruit you had been cutting and snort. “tired?”
you feel a faint exhale against your shoulder, warmth spreading across your skin through the fabric of the shirt you wear. he speaks, muffled by cotton but coherent nonetheless, “what, I gotta be exhausted to wanna show my girl a little love?” a short pause. “I mean, I am, but i’ll hug ya’ if I want to anyway.”
his words come as a petulant murmur. biting back the laugh that crawls up your throat lodged to be incredibly difficult, but he does not notice the quirk of your lips. he happens to be rather preoccupied with nuzzling into you and seemingly trying to crawl into your skin. he would become one with you if he could, you are certain.
“yeah, yeah, you big loser.”
“yer’ so mean to me.” he is whining, but you feel his lips curl into a smile. he loves it, the back and forth. he loves you. he has long since given up on hiding the latter fact, though.
i fucking love atsumu so much i can’t even begin to explain the way i yearn for him
Suna Rintarou is possessive
He’s possessive in the quiet way. Lingering behind you in the store. Sharp eyes catching the eyes of anyone who dares to look for longer than a second. His voice raising, just a fraction, with every pet name that leaves his lips.
His hands always managed to find you. Your hips, your hands, your face. His hand even rests comfortably in your back pocket while the two of you walk down the street. Dipping down to mumble in your ear every now and then. "Baby, watch out, you're going to run into them."
His hands were always gently guiding you, contrasting the way his eyes narrowed at every man who stared at you. His palms linger on your body, as if tracing the paths of the eyes lingering on your curves. Fingers gently pulling down the short skirt you wore, even though it rode up with each step you took.
Eyes catching each time your top rose up your stomach, or your neckline plunged too low. He never made you change, wouldn’t even dare to ask. He just quietly watched, fingers pulling gently at the fabric each time it moved a bit too far along your body. A gentle pat landing on your backside each time he stood up after fixing your skirt.
He was never overbearing. Always giving you space, letting you wander as far as you wanted. Though he never lost sight of you. And you never seemed without him, faint marks lingering on your neck. Lipstick smudged, just barely, at the corner of your mouth. The various pieces of jewelry catching the light just enough to bring attention.
Suna Rintarou is possessive, but only enough to make his presence known.
clawing at the walls of my enclosure i need suna so bad
Sukugo baby: Kojiro
oh. oh im loving this.
ROCK ME!
Synopsis. Gojo Satoru: the handsome captain of the Tokyo Free Blades, the biggest heartthrob in ice hockey, infamous for his rivalry with a certain pink-haired center. Ryomen Sukuna: the mean captain of the Heian Hawks, the one always in the headlines for starting a fight, 6’6 tall and livid over losing his title to that smug bastard. You: the only thing they both want more than a Stanley Cup.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader x Ryomen Sukuna
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, ice hockey player!Gojo, ice hockey player!Sukuna, ice hockey AU, slightly inspired by Heated Rivalry, matches, fights (between Gojo and Sukuna), tension, you’re Gojo’s gf, Sukuna doesn’t care, semi-pubIic (locker rooms), oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, fuIl neIsons, p talking, p sIapping, cúm-eating, pússydrúnk men, writing on p, Sukuna with tattoos, they’re POSSESSIVE, fighting for you, manhandIing, thréesome, sandwich position, DP, they’re BIG, bickering while inside you, rough s, making you count, DÚMBlFICATION, squírting, overstím, creampíes, cúmpIay, implied marathons, commentators, happy ending, getting together, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 11.0k
A/N. I still haven’t fully watched the show I had edits and a dream.
“Poise. Precision—power! Gojo Satoru and Ryomen Sukuna are about to take the opening face-off- just waiting for that puck to drop.” Sharp and snappy. The commentator’s booming voice takes up every inch of the stadium, though not nearly as loud as the recorded 103,000 in attendance tonight. On the edges of their seats. The game was only just starting.
More roars.
More applause.
More cries from a crowd clashing in blue and red.
Gojo glares ahead at the other captain, both circling that face-off spot like sharks in the water. Ice-blue eyes meet red. Ice-cold. Sukuna’s thick helmet can’t muffle the sheer arrogance in his tone- “Your girl?”
He almost startles- before he’s realizing just where Sukuna was gesturing to. Right where the red goal line divided the net from the floor: Tokyo Free Blades vs. Heian Hawks. Right where it ran until a plexiglass wall, from behind which the loudest, prettiest cheers were coming for him.
From you.
“Yeah.” Gojo scowls, “She’s my girl.”
At this, the pink-haired man is letting out a loooow whistle- one of his pink brows raise as he looks between his opponent and you in the stands.
Oh—how fuckin’ pretty you were.
Just engulfed in an ice-blue jersey with the Tokyo Free Blades logo on the front - they sold those things for far more than they were worth, but Sukuna’s sure this must’ve been one of Gojo’s own. It was big enough and looked softer than the merchandise- or maybe that was just the slight blur around your figure…were the lights too harsh or was Sukuna hallucinating? It’s slipping down to your wrists, where you were holding a big banner that had your boyfriend’s name on it—‘Go Go Gojo The Strongest Satoru!’ Eyes sparkling. Lips slightly swollen from your nervous gnawing. Jumpin’ up and down excitedly as you catch his eye. How cute…
And while Sukuna’s wondering just how damn lucky the bastard opposite him was- Gojo can’t help but muse about just how awfully the other’s hair color clashed with his uniform.
Blood-red just like his eyes.
Locked and narrowed on you—
Gojo’s knocking his hockey stick against Sukuna’s, making the other man finally tear his eyes away. He gruffs out finally, “Never said she wasn’t.”
He pushes against his opponent’s wooden blade harder, “Then why’ve you got her name in your fucking mouth?”
“What- scared she’s gonna like it better in my mouth, heh?” Only for the other to push back with a leer.
“The mouth I punched back in the New York playoffs?” Gojo scoffs. They’d played against each other a few times before - it was impossible to avoid anyone in the big leagues. And each time had ended up with one or both in the infirmary and headlines for days. “Or the mouth that got himself suspended for two games a few months ago?”
He sweeps a look towards you in the stands, you were on your feet and looking over them in concern now. And listen—listen, Gojo was well-aware he’s lucky to have you - and proud of it. But having you be stared at by this son of a-
Sukuna leans in with a whisper, “The mouth tha’s gonna make your girl cum harder than she has in her entire life.”
“See, the difference between you and I…” And Gojo should be rageful- he was. Despite that strange throb in his shorts, he promises he was. But more than that he couldn’t stop from leaning in himself, letting his breath cloud out within the cold stadium. Against Sukuna’s ear shell, “-is that you can only dream…while I have my mouth on her every fucking night.”
Sukuna jerks away, “You little-”
“Oh, and the title as well.” Gojo smirks, that little dimple popping out by the edge of his lips. He can hear his numerous fan clubs scream even louder - Gojo Satoru had splashed onto the ice hockey world and shot straight to the top without looking back.
They couldn’t get enough of the Prince of the Ice.
His looks. His winks. His plays. “Perhaps you haven’t realized it yet, Ryomen Sukuna, but the only reason you were the greatest center in history was simply because…I wasn’t playing yet~”
The other man straightens silently. He was a few inches taller than Gojo, standing at an impressive 6’6 to Gojo’s 6’4. It was easy to realize why the media seemed to love him as a ‘bad boy’ - the troublesome one. Despite them being similar ages, he was the more experienced one. Buffer. Nastier. Tattooed and towering.
They called him the King of the Rink for a reason. And the King looked down on them all—especially new captains with blue eyes and too many fan clubs. But that wasn’t saying he didn’t have many of his own - but at least he deserved his. “And what took ya so long to reach my level, Gojo Satoru?”
Gojo looks at Sukuna.
Gojo looks at you.
Then back at the other player- “Was too busy fucking my girl.”
And Sukuna’s ready to spit out something that wouldn’t be able to air on sports channels- before the referee skates over just then.
His deadpan voice cutting through the chaos, “Alright alright, break it up you two.” The older man - Masamichi Yaga, a legendary player in his own time, one of Gojo’s own junior coaches - looks between the two. “Keep it clean.”
Sukuna grumbles but ultimately glides a few inches backwards, hockey stick at the ready. Gojo follows with a smirk.
The commentator announces- “Two players who’ve made the headlines for their explosive rivalry- Ryomen Sukuna, the strongest center in history, and Gojo Satoru, the hotshot who stole that title from straight under his nose—hah! I can hear the fan clubs already. Though, that’s not to say our King of the Rink will be giving it up that easily. We’re in for a reeeeal treat tonight, ladies and gentlemen!”
“Okay- King, welcome back for another season.” Yaga then turns to the white-haired man. “Gojo, welcome to the NHL. Set.”
Gojo smiles, he hopes you’re watching this. Nothing matters if you’re not watching.
“Oh—our Prince of the Ice is smiling. Can it be that he’s confident in his win already?”
“Yeah- welcome, bastard.” Sukuna bites out, his stick blade digging into the designated area on the spot. “Enjoy yer first game here- and your last. By the end of it yer gonna be crying in your gal’s arms.”
“But Ryomen Sukuna is one of the most feared players in the league for a reason- just look at those muscles!”
One white brow raises, “You think I’d lose against you?” Eyes locked on Yaga once he presents the puck and readies himself.
“This is a moment in NHL history, ladies and gentlemen.”
“I know it.”
“Gojo and Sukuna-”
“Nah, I’d win.”
“-who to choose?!”
The Prince and the King.
Both prodigies.
The puck is dropped and it’s a mad dash—the clap of hockey sticks like a most satisfying lightning strike, and that circular slab of black is being swung past the neutral zone and into Gojo’s side.
“Sukuna gets the puck! Such a tight turn and attack straight to the net- the Tokyo Free Blades aren’t letting him get far—oh, what a steal.”
Gojo’s speeding past to let his first defense line sweep him back the puck- Sukuna’s racing past to take it back from him.
And the game commences.
“This is going to be a tight game, ladies and gentleman”
In the first twenty minutes, it’s one point for the Tokyo Free Blades.
One point for the Heian Hawks.
Considering the intensity of each team’s defense, you weren’t surprised that it was off to a fierce yet slow start. Gojo was holding back, testing out the playing field, and Sukuna was a lot more used to this stadium. This league. It was making the other captain sweat.
But with your cheers, you could see a faint smile on Gojo’s face as he started the second twenty minutes.
Your boyfriend was using his famous body fake technique to gain two more points-
One point for the Tokyo Free Blades.
One point for the Tokyo Free Blades.
One point for the Heian Hawks.
One point for the Tokyo Free Blades.
One point for the Tokyo Free Blades.
Everyone was on their feet. Whether out of exhilaration or out of desperation for their team—and you were one of them. During the second break Gojo, of course, skidded down the side of the rink during his break to spend it blowing kisses at you through the plexiglass - before his coach arrived to drag him away.
And so caught up in your embarrassment at his display, you didn’t see the way he shot a smug look at Sukuna. The other man glowering from his own side of the bench.
He was never one to be left behind.
The final twenty minutes started off with the pink-haired tyrant using his signature aggressive playstyle to get nothing more than three more points back-to-back. Making the commentator cry out at the hat trick and the audience get onto their feet now.
One point for the Heian Hawks.
One point for the Heian Hawks.
One point for the Heian Hawks.
The score was quickly five to five - one of the greatest plays that the NHL had recently seen. And Sukuna was basking in it.
Basking.
He was skating down the sides of the stands at a rapid pace, showing off for the audience- showing off for you—Sukuna reaches where you were seated and bangs the shaft of his hockey stick against the plexiglass. THUD-THUD-THUD—! You startle while the fans around you jump up and cheer-
And he’s looking right down at you. Smirking through the cage of his helmet…
Until Gojo’s skating by him and rams Sukuna against the plexiglass with his own body. The two of their muscular figures colliding. Sukuna’s turning to Gojo with a snarl. Gojo’s raising his fist up high and aimed.
It’s a fight that Yaga has to break up.
The timer rings.
.
.
.
“—can’t believe I had to take the win with a fucking shootout.” Gojo speaks in his aggravated tone, hissing once you press the ice-pack to the cut above his eyebrow.
This wouldn’t have been considered worse for wear had it been any other player, but this was the Prince of the Ice. You could already envision the headlines that would flood your timeline tomorrow. The hat trick. The smile. The fist fight.
“But you won, Toru.” Once the game had ended in a tie, there was no choice but to start an overtime period. A fight to the death, more like. It lasted less than five minutes and ended up with Gojo scoring first out of pure fury and adrenaline.
Though that in itself was a tight match, the game had finally ended: 6—5.
The Tokyo Free Blades had won.
Barely. And if you asked Gojo Satoru, a bare win was worse than a fair loss.
Which is why you were cooped up with him in the team’s locker room even after the rest of the players had filtered out. The coaches knew you well enough by this point that you’d gained access easily, and you knew Gojo well enough to know that he was taking this match to heat. Especially as captain.
And here you were pressing an ice-pack to the numerous cuts and bruises he’d acquired during his tussle with Sukuna. “I thought you did really well, baby.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. But-”
“Oh, come on—”
“But having you with me during an NHL game and I it ends up like this-”
“Toru, you’re the hardest on yourself.” Huffing, you push back on his damp white bangs. “I loved your playing today and I know everyone else did, too.”
“Yes, but I made the team go into overtime-” Gojo cries out once more.
“Which happens fairly often!”
Throwing his hands up in exasperation, “Yes, but that damned Ryomen Sukuna- fuck! How I wish I could have used more backhands against him- or body checks- or cycling- or even just slammed my hockey stick into his ugly fucking-”
“Satoru.” You interrupt him, and your boyfriend looks up at you immediately.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Underneath the glowy white light of the locker room, you can’t help but think that Gojo looks so pretty like this.
There was a reason that he was the hockey player with the most fanfiction written of him (you knew, you’d checked). He was still in his deeeep blue uniform from earlier, not having had the heart to take them off just yet. It was slightly loose as it should be, but did nothing to hide Gojo’s firm shoulders, his broad chest, his strong arms. Matching the shade of his teary eyes, slightly reddened around the edges in a way that made him look so delicate. He flutters his long lashes up at you and subconsciously pouts. You’re noticing just then that he had a fresh bruise on his lower lip, making them look even more plump.
Gojo looked almost ethereal.
Head slightly sweaty. Body slightly blushing. His fingers still jittery with adrenaline.
Pouting. Pretty.
Though it didn’t matter because to him—you would always be the most beautiful.
Gojo whimpers at the slight sting of pain once you kiss his poor, injured lips. “Fuh-fuck, sweetheart…mm.” And it was almost impressive how you had a 6’4 mountain of muscle and power as nothing but putty in your hands.
He melts.
“My girl?”
“Mhm, Toru?” You’re cooing down at him- chuckling at the way he chases your lips once you slightly pull away. It doesn’t matter if it hurts…he just needed you.
“Can you make me feel better?”
“Of course, Toru.”
In mere moments you’re being slammed up against the locker with your cunt against the smooth metal and Gojo’s hot erection inside your cunt. His fat cockhead probin’ between your pussylips and pushing against every tiny nook and cranny.
Just so thiiiiick and flared wide open that it makes your mouth water. Your legs limp.
You fucking loved when Gojo got like this - just after one of his games when he’s so high on the adrenaline that his furious erection just won’t seem to go down.
And of course - of fucking course - the only possible solution to that would be to shove you against the nearest flat surface he can find. To press you down with his hefty weight so that you can’t squirm your hips away. To hold you against this still-sweaty body as he pummels his thick inches inside you. To fuck you so hard and needy that even the lockers echo out their sounds in sultry synchronization with you.
Slam-slam-slam—
In and out, in and out, in and out—
“F—ngh, fuck.” He whispers, all hot and breathy against the back of your neck. It makes you slightly flinch at the sensation and Gojo’s pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your nape- then digging his teeth in to almost draaaag you back to him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- m’feeling better already, sweetheart.”
“Thank goodness, because you’re making me feel all- oh.” Just then his mushroomy tip swabs against your g-spot and you can’t stop your moan. “Shit, right there, Toru.”
Gojo’s panted chuckle breezes down your spine, “You could say I really, mm, hit the goal- hm?”
“Sh-shut up.”
Before you’re arching right at Gojo’s sculptured core - he still had his blue ice hockey jersey on, and so did you. One of his that he’d given you, in fact.
Though he was holding his jersey up with one hand so that your restless body could sliiiiide down each sensual curve and ridge of his abs. He knew how much you liked that.
He could feel just how much wetter you got whenever you felt Gojo’s white happy trail scrape up against your cunt. Your outer pussy was just rubbed raw on the slammin’ of his base and now there was this—he pulls the hemline of his jersey up to his mouth and bites down on it. Keeping it permanently held up as the captain ruts and ruts against you even harder now.
Deeeeeeep, plunging strokes that leave wet thwacks! against the back of your cunt.
The hockey player’s reddish globular tip pushes against your sweetest spots a few more times, and each time he’s counting- “That’s one.”
“Wh-what do you…”
Hitting that exact spot once more like a target- wetness seeps from your cunt and sticks your thighs together with a wet sheen. Shit, it was just too cute how he had that mind of yours muddled with only a few strokes. “Two- three—” Each one accompanied by the most vicious mwah against your throbbin’ bundles of nerves.
“Why are you- hck! counting, baby?” You sniffle out.
So damn gone on his thickened, veiny length that he’s forced to (well, more like glad to) hook two rugged palms underneath your thighs and lift you up. He’s supporting your body a proper inch off of the tiled floor, jerking you up even higher every time his aching hot cock was swabbin’ away into you- “Three. That’s a hat trick.”
You blink tearily over your shoulder, not quite sure you heard him right. “A…a what?”
“A hat trick.” All three of those words were followed by three more pushing probes against your g-spot- “And look at thaaaat- that’s another hat trick.” Cutely peckin’ away his swollen cockhead again. And again. And again and- “That’s four. Five. Six. Seven-”
“Pleeeeeease—” The only thing you can do is grab onto the jutted handles of the lockers for dear life. Back arched. Toes curling.
Those bulbous wet tears welling up by the sides of your eyes are so damn cute that all he wants to do is kiss them away. “Not ‘please’, heh- what you mean to say is thank you.”
“Th-thank you.” Babbling out with no difficulty.
And that makes even Gojo raise one pale brow, his rosy lips curling at the edges. “Fucked dumb already? Mmm, you really liked today’s game, huh? So good f’me.” With a raspy titter he slides a hand down the middle of your spine and gives your right ass cheek a goooood spank. “Then can you say thank you very muuuuuch, Toru—?”
“Thank you very- hck! much-” Mouth moving before your mind, he’s planting down yet another smack before you can finish your sentence. “-Toru!”
The focused captain nearly doesn’t wait until bossing you around again. “Theeeeen, how about can you say that Gojo Satoru, my handsome- ngh, boyfriend, is the best ice hockey player in history?”
Your mind was almost dizzy at the length of that sentence- “Satoru- ngh, fuck.”
“Nuh-uhhhh—” His needy pitch echoes out, planting a few more mean thrashes against your g-spot to leave you even more stupid. Hat trick. So slick with your glazy syrup that it’s easy to follow that route to reach your delicate spots. “It’s- Gojo Satoru, my handsome boyfriend, is the best-”
“Begging yer girl to say that shit because you know it’s not true?”
A voice that decidedly didn’t sound like either yours or your boyfriend’s.
It was too gruff, too mocking, too…predatory. Something in it that makes goosebumps erupt down the line of your spine and for you to snap your head immediately to the side- despite no one being in the locker room, you two had still chosen a slightly private corner of the mazing lockers. Somewhere no one would be able to see.
You just didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna of all people would come looking for you.
He stood inside the sex-saturated room with his arms crossed, beefy biceps bulging through his red jersey. Head cocked. Expression smug. Tall enough that the tips of his pink hair touched the ceiling. Like Gojo, Sukuna hadn’t changed much out of his uniform- he was still sporting his red jersey and a slightly bloody nose to match.
Something you didn’t realize could be so attractive-
Dried around where his lips curled up into a smirk so smug.
You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t find Ryomen Sukuna attractive - anyone with able vision or ears would be able to. He was strong. He was cocky. He was the type to glide through the rink as if he owned it- and just today he’d stopped and signalled at you—
And then there was the matter of his tattoos.
Thick inky rings at his wrists and his biceps, some more peeking out of his uniform. They always did give him an aura of authority.
Even now, he stood inside the traitorous room as though he owned it.
Stealthily, he’d opened up the door and crept inside the rival team’s locker room- or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d been deafeningly loud and you two just hadn’t noticed.
Being so caught up-
Sukuna’s crimson gaze glides down the curvature of your spine and to where your pussy was just drippin’ all over the other man. Creating a slimy sheen down Gojo’s pistoning cock and all the way down his muscular thighs.
It smacks n’ splatters all over the globes of your ass because the white-haired man just wouldn’t stop-
“Why the fuck are you here? Spying on us because you can’t get any?” Gojo scoffs, not even slowing down- in fact, by the way you could feel his thick throbbing tip at your throat, you think he might just be speeding up—
“Fuuuuuck, Toru-”
“Shhhh shh shh, sweetheart.” One of Gojo’s hands lifts from your thighs and ends up clapping over your mouth. He feels your gaped maw splosh out in saliva and presses against your face even harder- “Wouldn’t wanna let that mean ol’ pervert hear any of your pretty noises, right?”
“Who the fuck are ya calling old-” Sukuna growls.
“I-I…” And you’re torn between looking behind at your boyfriend, and sideways at the pink-haired intruder. Both just making your cunt throb even harder.
“Hear that?” Sukuna snickers out of his toned chest, “Heh- yer pretty girlfriend doesn’t even know where to look.”
“Probably wanting to look anywhere but at your ugly ass-”
“Probably looking for an escape.” The taller man looms even closer, casting a shadow over your sweaty connected bodies. Your cunt quivers and he eyes you greedily as though he knew- “Rutting into her like that? Honestly- if ya won a match then fuck her like it.”
Gojo opens his mouth, “I won’t take advice from a sore loser.”
“Then take advice from me as a man.” Before Sukuna’s diverting his gaze down to where you were looking up at him with widened eyes. He softens his tone just for you, he leans down to speak just to you—grinning. “Your pussy wants me bad, doesn’t she, mama?”
“Don’t you fucking talk to her-”
Gojo tightens his palm atop your loosened mouth- and the only thing that does is smear the wads of saliva leaking out of you. Because you’re clenching your gummy walls so hard that he can’t help but give an animalistic jolt-
“She jus’ squeezed that pussy tight, didn’t she?” The hockey captain asks, and he doesn’t need to wait for the answer - he could already see it in Gojo’s dazed eyes. His parted lips. His aching cock. Sukuna’s own aching erection that he reaches a hand down to palm over his shorts, “Mmm, I can already imagine- fuck…what a shame she’s wasted on a bastard like you.”
Any and all haziness leaves Gojo’s peripherals instantly as he whips them over at the other man. “Uh-huh? And you really think you’re any better?” He’s inadvertently jostling the two of you even closer to him.
“Fucker, I know I’m better.” Sukuna steps closer.
And you’re not sure how but you find yourself practically sandwiched between them - Gojo’s pecs pushing up against you from behind, his lengthy shaft drilling into you like a madman. Sukuna’s against your front - pressing against you with his muscular core, and his erection throbbing obviously between his legs. You were pulled away from the locker that was your lifeline and could barely even breathe like this-
Gojo humps his roverin’ tip into you from behind and scowls, “I’d say prove it but my girl doesn’t deserve to be put through that.”
“You’d say prove it but you’re scared I’d steal your girl.” Sukuna was cornering you both now. The positions had somehow flipped so that Gojo was starting to have his back against the locker now, Sukuna looming in. You between them. Being compressed. Being fucked stupid still-
He hisses at the frigidness of the metal, “In your dreams-”
“Oh yeah?” Sukuna seethes, “Watch me.”
And then Sukuna’s snaggin’ away your panties- yes, you still had your panties on. Light blue just like your boyfriend’s eyes because you knew how ruined he was for that - and as soon as Sukuna’s registering the fact, he’s grazing his nail against the cloth and riiiiiiipping it straight off of your wet cunt.
Nose crinkling in amusement as he throws it to the side-
“Oi-” Gojo snaps from behind, “I bought those limited edition for her, y’know-”
“And next time I’ll buy her ones in red.”
“You wish you could afford that shit-”
And it’s the last thing you’re hearing before Sukuna’s pressing one of his thickened fingertips right between your pussylips. His roughened crown pries apart your folds—sluuuurp, and you were just so damn damp that it trickles down his tattooed wrist.
Glistening against the ring of ink on his skin- Sukuna’s openin’ you up like some cute birthday present. Spreading apart your thick pussylips. Probin’ just the knobbled edges of his digits against your entrance—maybe because of his rumored rough training, but Ryomen Sukuna’s hands were much more calloused than Gojo’s. Much thicker. Much meaner.
He takes a goooood look down at your hole and chuckles- “Pull out and pull her legs up.”
At that, Gojo falters his sloppy pace. “Wh-what?” You could hear the surprise in his voice.
“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Rolling his crimson eyes, the man sighs. How troublesome. “I said- pull out and pull her legs up. Lemme get a taste of that pussy.”
“Over my dead body.”
Sukuna looks over at you with a smirk, “Cover your eyes, mama- there’s about to be a murder.”
The only thing you can do is let your eyes follow their argument like a tennis match- or a hockey match. Mouth babbling uncontrollably by this point, “Please-”
Your boyfriend’s cooing down at you immediately, “Yeeees, my sweetheart?”
“Yeeeeeees, my sweetheart~?” Sukuna mocks.
“Jealous?”
“Over my dead body.”
Jealousy, surely. And Gojo knows it, too- which is why he’s kissing your throat in front of the man. Lips spreading across your skin in such a sultry way. “Then what do you say, my girl? Wanna- mmm, let this ol’ pervert have a taste of you? After I’ve been inside you?”
“Wanna feel-” You’re gurgling out, “Wanna feel you both-”
“Hmm, fine.” Gojo answers, “But this pussy’s too nice.”
The white-haired man echoes out in a scorching breath, slight possessiveness seeping into the way he gives your gooey cervix a final ram before pulling out—no, wait. He’s not going to make it that easy on his rival.
Without a single warning, Gojo’s coating your dewy walls in a thick layer of his seed.
Gojo’s cumming.
Almost timed, almost perfectly on schedule, almost making the other man’s knees buckle as he sees the frothy white residue seeping out of your hole. There’s so much of it, and he can feel his balls emptying out even more with each pump. Fucking the clingy wads back in a few times- really messing up the slick surface of your channel with his cum. Cumming harder than he thinks he has in his entire life-
And you’re throwing your head back against his collarbone with a moan, “O-oh my god, Toru. It feels so good.”
“Hear that?” He chuckles at Sukuna, who couldn’t take his eyes off of the way Gojo’s slick shaft kept slippin’ in and out of your cunt. Glistening n’ glossy with so many layers.
He gulps.
Seeing the state the pink-haired captain was in, Gojo leans down and whispers something in your ear—
“O-on your knees, Kuna.” You’re repeating with a slight whimper, still slightly dizzy at the flood of ivory sap being poured inside you. And he didn’t tell you to add on that little nickname but ah well- it was worth it to see Ryomen Sukuna, King of the Rink, fall to his very knees before you.
To have Gojo Satoru pull his massive cock out of you with the loudest, most lecherous sluuuuurp!
You’re twitching at the sheer sensitivity- feeling the spray of cum gush out of you so intensely that you almost want to close your legs. But your boyfriend holds them wiiiiide open with two arms being hooked underneath your knees.
He lifts you cleanly off of the ground-
Your knees up to your tits. Your ass being smacked by his toned v-line.
A standing full nelson.
There’s a ribbony wire of cum that slips out of your hole and ends up slide-slide-sliding all over your pussy. Gojo’s cock still hot and red between your legs. He snickers down at the kneeling man, “Eat that.”
Sukuna doesn’t need to be asked twice.
He doesn’t care that your pussy’s all covered in him—he doesn’t care that you’re just so stimulated and gone after this round that all you need is his flattened tastebuds on you to shatter into your orgasm.
Sukuna’s mouth guffawing out darkly as he feels you clench ‘round and ‘round his tongue- “Heh, would ya look at thaaaat?” Looking up at the two of you through his pink lashes, “Cummin’ on my tongue the moment I put it on her- this pussy reeeally likes me, doesn’t she?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Gojo rolls his eyes.
“Sure thing, two-pump chump.”
And whatever Gojo’s saying next - you don’t hear. Because just then he’s movin’ apart your folds with his mouth and shovelling the entirety of his tongue inside.
Push after push.
Probe after probe,
Pointed chin slapping your cunt. His honed canines grazing your folds. Drilling into you like a man starved throughout your orgasm- he’s pressing both palms up against your thighs and pushing them even higher to get to your sweetened core. Smacking at the miry ribbons of white that were webbing up your insides.
And you don’t know whether it’s the sheer stretch or the intensity of your bliss, but you find yourself sobbing maddeningly. “Oh- oh my god.” Bucking. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t plan to.” He chuckles wetly, a line of cum dribbling down his mouth. The slashes of his tongue somehow precisely pinpointing each peak of your high. Elongating that feeling inside of you until it felt like your veins were bubbling up- “Because she’s my pussy now, huh?”
You gasp, “I-I mean-”
“Says who?” Gojo growls out from above.
Pressing his rock-hard erection back between your pussylips as if to remind you just who was holding you up. And the audacity of Ryomen Sukuna—he’s merely leaning down and spitting a glittery wad across your slit.
It ends up dolloping straight down onto Gojo’s cock, as well.
The white-haired man shivers-
“Says me.”
Before Sukuna’s back to pressing one hot kiss on top of your cunt, two hot kisses, three. They were all open-mouthed and lavish—slidin’ his tongue furiously in and out of your hole. In and out. In and out. “Fuckin’ her all this time and you couldn’t even make ‘er cum.”The vibrations of Sukuna’s deep baritone sends jolts of pleasure up your spine, “Fuckin’ her all this time and I bet you’ve never made her feel this good-”
Gojo reaches up to grab at your throat with one hand, still holding you up. “S’that true, sweetheart?”
“I-I like bo—fuck.”
But then both men are rendering you speechless - Sukuna with his tongue slappin’ into the tender ridges of your walls, Gojo craning his long fingers down to press on your clit. Anything so that neither of them would have to hear how you wanted them both.
Pick one but not both.
And they’re both trying to be that one- Gojo flicking your throbbing clit with ease, Sukuna shoved between your legs and lappin’ at your every treacly dewdrop with his tongue.
It was so different from the way your boyfriend would eat you out - while Gojo was slow and sensual and loving—handing you anything and everything you could ever want with his tongue - Sukuna was the complete opposite. He was rough. He was teasing.
He was grippin’ onto both of your thighs and draaaagging you back once you attempted to bounce your hips away. With his nails digging into the sides of your flesh, he was eating you out until you couldn’t breathe-
Just sharp, rapid pumps inside your hole with his slicked tastebuds. Draggin’ his teeth on your folds. Slurping up the pearly white dewdrops of sap. And whenever you clenched like it just felt so good- he’d reel his sloppy tongue back and slap it over your clit instead.
Never letting you feel too good, never growing tired of those cutely disappointed huffs n’ puffs you’d let out.
“Oi oi-” Sukuna’s tongue slides over Gojo’s fingers, both tugging and grinding on top of your clit. “Yer in my zone, Gojo Satoru.”
“You’re in my girl’s pussy, Ryomen Sukuna.” He’s biting back. Jaw dropping slightly open at the sheer pace at which Sukuna would thrust into your sopping wet hole- uncaring whether you were stretched out enough to take his sheer circumference because Sukuna was going to make you take it either way.
“Haaaah? Thought we went over this shit already- this is my girl’s pussy from now on. My pussy.”
“You call her that when I’m the one that’s cum inside her?”
“Yeah, but who made her cum?”
You hitch out, “You’re both so s-stupid-”
And the bickering is starting up one more - though unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) for you, the more they argue, the harder they’re going on your cunt. Rubbin’ their lips and fingers raw—“Got a problem with that?”
Gojo pipes up, “She never answered the-”
“Aht aht-” Sukuna interrupts the blue-eyed man, just too fun to watch him fume like this. And instead of paying him any attention, the King stares right down at your pussy. “Got a problem with that?”
He wasn’t talking to Gojo. He wasn’t even talking to you-
He was talking to your greedy pussy and waitin’ until she answered- opening his mouth to let his tongue spread your lips wide open and draaaaag down your velvety walls.
Inevitably, you’re just so wet by this point that you can’t help but splash out in your juices- and it creates the filthiest squelching noise that Sukuna grins at. “See? She doesn’t mind.”
“You fucking-”
“Sh-shiiiiit—” Before the sultriest, most mind-numbing stretch opens up your pussy. And you snap your head down on carnal instinct to find that Sukuna was kneeled between your legs and fingering your pussy open.
Ruthlessly with not one, not two, but three of his thick fingers- they were just so large that it took him a few half-thrusts to even fit the first few inches inside. Those roughened crowns of his mazing like spotlights searching for your every sweet spot, “Oh my god, it feels so good, Kuna-”
“Oh yeah? What a coincidence, yer- I mean my pussy’s saying the same thing, mama.” He then looks up at your boyfriend as if to say—your move.
Gojo Satoru rolls his eyes.
And he’s then pushing Sukuna’s head back to fully take over your clit for himself.
“Fuck off.”
Sukuna’s pink brows furrow and he grimaces. “Watch it, fucker. I have a Calvin Klein ambassadorship-”
“He talks big but he doesn’t know this pussy as well as I do, huh?” Though Gojo doesn’t listen to a word he says - doesn’t have to. He’s rolling the edge of his thumb along your clit in quick clockwise circles, and then stopping every then and now to repeat the motion anti-clockwise. “All that chit-chat, but really…she’s still my pussy, isn’t she?”
You hiccup, “I-I just don’t understand why she can’t be both-”
“No.”
“Nuh-uh.” Gojo affirms along with Sukuna. Breathy laughter echoing against your right ear in a way that almost felt crazed—“Guess I hafta remind it to you then, huh, my girl?”
“Ohhhh, he’s slurring, mama.” Sukuna titters.
“I’m realizing…” You breathe out.
Maybe the two of you had broken Gojo Satoru.
Maybe the two of you had made Gojo Satoru snap-
In no time he’s jerking you further up in this position and absolutely shattering you with the movements of his nimble fingertips. Gojo always did have the prettiest hands you’ve ever seen, the prettiest palms, the prettiest digits that had countless edits dedicated to them on social media.
And they were just so looooong and flexible- tuggin’ on your throbbing knob a few times before drawing patterns. Not just any patterns - but something swirling and swipin’ that makes your eyes roll all the way to the back of your skull.
He was curving the soft crown of his fingerpad against your clit- making a curving shape that makes you buck.
“And what does that say?”
“Wh-what?” You gasp out stupidly to the man above you, his voice eerily calm.
“I said…” A few more twists n’ turns of his fingers on top of your clit that make you tremble with pleasure. “-what does that say, sweetheart?”
Hell, even Sukuna has to look up at the tone of Gojo’s voice. Something about it so…either way it’s making the pink-haired man flicker his gaze up n’ down your cunt and chuckle. “Not bad, you sick fuck. Not bad.”
And you’ve never been more confused- “I don’t know what you mean-”
“I said-” It’s only then that you’re feeling it, feeling the sensation of Gojo’s doughy fingertips pinch your swollen clit. Letting the sting seep into your nerves for just a bit before he’s resuming that same swipin’ motion. “-what does it say on this pussy?”
It’s only then that you’re realizing he’s spelling something out on your cunt.
“Man, she’s too fucked stupid on my tongue to realize-”
“In your dreams.”
“Shit, is it…” Your dazed pupils seem to be following in the same motion, being held to him with absolutely no mercy. And, somehow, you manage to be mapping out the swivelling of his fingers. “Is it an ‘S’—?”
“‘S’ for Sukuna.” The pink-haired captain titters out.
Before Gojo’s immediately spanking down on your pussy for no reason- “And this one? What about this one, my girl?”
“Shit, shit shit, shiiiit—” You could feel the oncoming tidal wave of your high - already so close with both men stimulating you so much that it almost hurt. “Is that one- hck!” If you weren’t mistaken, this current one was something…pointier than the last curving letter. “Is it an ‘A’?”
“Good girl.”
“Aw, shit-” Sukuna gruffs out between your pussylips, “I can’t let my pussy go that easily, can I?”
Increasing the incredible zaps of electricity that were running straight from your core, Sukuna had another swivellin’ fingertip of his pressing inside. Four—and they were just so big that you swear you could feel your mind start blanking out.
Pushing and pushing.
Shovelling his hot tips against the sweetest of your spots, it’s almost as if he was providin’ his fingers inside with the aim to bruise-
“And how many fingers s’that?” Sukuna leers up at both you and Gojo, a challenging smile upon his handsome face. “Count f’me, girlie.”
“Be original.” Gojo scoffs.
“Be better.”
“Not when you’ve got my cum on your face.”
Sukuna isn’t even sure what to say to that, merely stuffin’ his face into the froth of white and transparent juices pourin’ out of you.
“Fuh-four.” Almost feeling embarrassed by how much your words were tangling n’ mingling into one- but that’s if you were in any better state of mind. Right now it felt like you could barely even string a coherent thought together let alone a sentence. “Four fingers?”
Sukuna smiles against your tender folds, “Aaaaatta girl.” Pulling back and this time pushing in a different number of digits. “And how many now?”
“Three?” You cry out.
“We’re not done here, sweetheart.” Thrown by the way that Gojo was rasping into your ear, “Don’t let has-beens distract you- what letter?”
“It’s a ‘T’—?”
“What number, mama?”
“Two.”
“Letter?”
“Oh—” Feeling your legs start to twitch the way they did whenever you were close, “It’s ‘O’-”
“Number-”
You’re arching against them, “Four-”
“Letter-”
Bucking your body, “‘R’—”
“Lett-”
“Number-”
“Letter.”
“Fuck- number.”
“Fuck off- letter.”
“S’my pussy and I want to ask-”
“No, it’s my pussy and-”
But only you could cut through one of their infamous arguments with ease- “Satoru.” Bringing back both men’s attention onto you and you entirely. Your back arches against Gojo’s front until his smooth pectorals were providing you with cushioning for his rough fingers. “Y-your letters are spelling out- ngh, ‘Satoru’ on my pussy.” And then you’re staring down at the pink-haired man, “And Sukuna- you’ve now got four fingers inside me.”
He smirks, “Atta girl- correct.”
“You did well, sweetheart.”
And their sweet whispers are all you hear before you’re shattering into your second- third- perhaps even fourth orgasm of the night. Something that lasts so loooooong and blissful that it leaves your body utterly limp in Gojo’s arms.
Sukuna plops his fingers and mouth down on your cunt and fucks you through each incredible high, the mountains of it unfurling over you. His globular fingertips pressin’ into the tiniest crevices inside and marking himself out. Meanwhile Gojo was spelling his name again and again and agaaaain on top of your swollen pussy.
Until it was a pattern that you think might have permanently embedded into your very veins with how frenzied your boyfriend was marking it out. Gojo crushes you to his toned front and whispers- “Cum f’me, my girl.” Scalding hot pants against your ear, “Yes- yes, cum f’me.”
He ruts his aching cock against your behind and you whine-
“Cum f’me so good.”
And Sukuna himself looks as though he wanted to say something as he dragged out the tremors across your body- but he was far too busy with his lips glued to your pussylips. Lappin’ up every ounce of slick and cum- “Mmm, just you wait, mama.”
They don’t stop until your massive wave of bliss has well and fully bated - until it’s nothing more than a few tingles that shoot sparks up your spine.
But then…they don’t stop even then.
Sukuna has his lips plastered to your clit by now, his fingers smeared down your walls—and he didn’t give a fuck what the other man had to say about it. Because Gojo himself had his arms around you tightly, hips just lightly pushing and pulling. Reeling and rutting.
Gojo’s plush cockhead was swervin’ between your legs and sliiiiiding up the slit of your pussy-
“Oi-” Sukuna’s grunting as the other man’s smooth velvety length grazes his lips, “Watch it. M’trying to eat out my girl’s pussy.”
“Then shut up and move.” Gojo gruffs out, teeth grit. He hits his hips against you with a smack! “Or don’t- I don’t fucking care.”
“That’s gay as hell.”
“Bi.”
“Bye to you, too.” Sukuna’s rolling his rouge eyes. He’s just about to open his mouth once more with something snarky, when he realizes that oh…Gojo was actually fucking serious.
He was actually attempting desperately to pummel his hips into you. He was actually holding you up with only one of his beefy arms for a brief moment, guiding his thickened tip to smooch up against your hole and puuuushing—
Cumming.
Pouring out hot loads of seed in a gloss.
“And who said you could fuck my girl’s pussy?” Immediately, he’s on his two feet and shrugging down his shorts- dampened with precum by now. Thoroughly. It’s then that you’re getting the first proper look at the Ryomen Sukuna’s cock.
Where Gojo was longer and prettier- Sukuna was just thiiiick and covered in so many veins that it made you already anticipate him being inside you. It was almost dizzying the sheer amount there was. Unruly pink happy trail. Heavily tightened balls. He was the most sensual tannish pink at the very top of his shaft, graduating down to a darker shade at his base. And his base—oh.
“You seriously got tattooed there?” Gojo’s the first to voice his thoughts out loud. One of his pale brows raising at the ring of inky black ‘round Sukuna’s hilt. “Sick fuck.”
You yourself gulp at the sight, “Did that hurt, Kuna?”
“Who cares if it-”
“Nah.” Sukuna replies, “No pain, no gain- right, mama?”
“I-I suppose…” Nodding was all that you could do - Gojo was furiously smearin’ apart your pussylips and trying to rut inside.
“And what exactly would my girl be gaining, huh?” The white-haired captain is the one to ask.
“Isn’t that obvious?” His tone certainly made it out to be, and the King was looming even closer with his throbbing erection. Just like Gojo, he looked so hard that it almost looked painful- almost looked as though he was begging n’ bursting to be inside your tight hole. Sukuna’s caging the two of you against the lockers, “She’s gaining both of us.”
Your eyes widen, “Both-”
“Inside.”
Gojo perks up, “At once.”
Both. Inside. At once.
You weren’t walking out of this locker room.
At all.
Sukuna inches ever-so-slightly closer. One hand placed outright against the locker room- and you honestly have to stop yourself from ogling his bulging biceps. The other wrapped around his meaty hilt and pressin’ up against your hole-
“If s’both at once then you better put them in at the- mm, same time.” Gojo mutters.
“Tch-” But Sukuna doesn’t deny him - and before you know it, he has his rugged hand wrapped around both their cocks. Gojo’s face wincing with a hiss at the slight sensation, he dribbles out in even more cum that gets smeaaaared down your wet crevice. “And that last round- we didn’t end up deciding whose pussy this was, huh?”
“No…” Gojo’s clenching his teeth, straining his head to look down at the heavenly sight below. Sukuna was teasin’ your flooded orifice, getting you used to the feeling of them both.
“Then how about…”
“-we let this pussy decide.”
“Mmm, heh-” Sukuna smirks, “-time for the overtime.”
And they might have been the fiercest of rivals on the ice—but here? Gojo and Sukuna were in perfect synchronization when they’re tuggin’ their cocks to your cunt and emptying out.
Fucking you at the same time.
“Eeeeeasy now, mama- s’gonna be a snug fit.” Sukuna’s forehead starts to bead with sweat, “You should know that they say my cock’s so big it’s as if they were- hah, two.”
“Two inches, maybe.”
“What were you saying, two-pump chump?”
It was such a tight fit.
“Ngh—fuck.” Sukuna spits out through his pearly white canines, nose crinkling at the sensation of your walls rubbing against him and him rubbing against Gojo. “You’ve got me, mama.”
“Fuh-fuuuuuck, sweetheart-” Meanwhile Gojo was damn near drooling- he was trembling, he was spurtin’ out his precum. He was holding onto you for what felt like dear life as he’s rutting- “It feels so good, what the fuck- what the fuuuck.”
“Yer welcome.” Sukuna chuckles, though you could see the burning blush formulating on his ears.
“Not you-”
He throbs, “Nah, tha’s definitely me.”
And you can’t help but cling onto both of them- “Toru—Kuna- you’re both inside- fuck.” One of your hands grabbing into Sukuna’s toned deltoids, while the other was scrambling to grab onto Gojo’s pure white hair. Honestly, you didn’t even need the balance at this point - they were the ones holding you up. Gojo’s strong arms holding you up in a full nelson, Sukuna’s ones latched onto either side of your hips to keep from running. “And you’re both just so big- I don’t know if it’ll even f-”
“Don’t say that it won’t fit, sweetheart.”
You’re turning back to Gojo, “Why- oh.”
Because your boyfriend’s voice sounded octaves higher than usual. It sounded breathier. It sounded more unsteady.
You don’t think you’ve heard him sound like this in your entire life.
And you’re just looking behind to check up on him and- fuck. Gojo Satoru was already pussydrunk - you could tell by the bleary look in his eyes. He was shivering. He was letting his pinkish lips fall further and further open every time he’s plunging in a solid few pumps-
“Oi oi-” Sukuna gnaws down on the insides of his cheek to keep from any strange noises like…whimpers from seeping into his tone. “-I thought we were fuckin’ her together?”
“Oh—huh?” Blue eyes looking between the two of you- did he seriously forget that? Was he seriously that gone? And you’re getting your answer the moment that your gluey walls clench—and Gojo’s breath hitches. Body moving before his mind as he ruts-
His eyes blow wide open as if he didn’t even realized what he just did.
He holds into you so tight that neat crescent marks embed into your skin. “Don’t say it won’t fit- please.” Breathy whispers plastering in scorching breezes against the side of your neck, “Don’t say it won’t fit because I need it to- have to.”
“Why’s that, Toru?”
“Yeah-” Sukuna raises his pinkish brows, “Why’s that, Toru?”
“B-because…” Gojo’s handsome cheeks give a slight blush, and he’s averting eye contact with both you and the cocky man that also had his cock stuffed inside you. “-how will make this pussy really mine if I can’t even hit her- ngh, womb?”
Your jaw drops- but Sukuna only lets out a light whistle. “So thaaaat is the master plan, huh?” The other captain himself giving you a solid, aaaaaching thrust- “Hasn’t yer coach ever taught you not to tell yer master plan to the rival team?”
“Why does it matter?” Poor, pussydrunk Gojo Satoru cocks his head. And you almost start to feel sympathy for the way that Sukuna was starting to take your boyfriend as a joke- “You won’t win anyways”
Nevermind.
It doesn’t take long for them to funnels their cocks upwards like fucking animals-
Claiming every single spot inside you. Slidin’ past one another for space- they feel the sensitive spots on their cock press against the other’s and that makes them buck. Molding and massaging and making you sob out on the feeling of two entire cylindrical intrusions keeping you wide open.
Gojo was impatient with his tempo, slashing the most delicate parts of your insides with his lengthy cock. And it certainly didn’t help that the globular end of his shaft was covered in slick and hooooned to reach your deepest depths. Even deeper.
Even deeper than Sukuna, who was spending more time training your entrance to gape out into a pretty lil’ oh—the same way your mouth was. “Just like that, mama.” And listen…he can’t help himself when he leans down and spits straight between your puffy lips. Sticking a thumb between your legs and pryin’ your folds apart. “Would ya look at that…she’s actually starting to take me- I dunno about that other motherfucker-”
“She’s taking me, too.” Gojo scoffs.
“-but I just know this pussy’s gonna love my cock.” Sukuna hums, his great chest rumbling with satisfaction. “She’s gonna have me stuffed all the way against her womb and then beg to be called mine.”
Making you shiver with the drag-drag of the calloused digits holding his base, “Sh-shit-”
Sukuna grins, jerking his hips up. Rapid and ravenous. “And she’s begging to take it all the way until that tattoo at my base-”
“In your dreaaaaams~” The other man’s answer comes before yours, and so does a thorough bang right near your g-spot occur. “She’s all mine. So if you w-want any then come and get it now, Sukuna—oh wait.” Leaning down theatrically, Gojo pretends as though he was hearing something emanating from your pussy. Something riveting. The squelches. “You can’t- because the only one she’s begging for is me.”
“Face-off.”
“Fuck off.”
“Can you two just shut up and fuck me—ngh.” Your tastebuds sizzle in the drenched layer of your own saliva, taking over your mouth in an instant once one of them finally bottoms out.
One of them.
And the problem was that you couldn’t register which one was which- before a second loud wallop tremors at the bottom of your pussy and the other man is bottoming out. Both of them.
Mere split-seconds apart from each other.
Their rotund tips curving against your cervix juuust right until your eyes roll back, hands latching onto their muscular bodies. Toes curling. Teary lashes fluttering. Gojo and Sukuna had you pressed tightly between them as they funnelled all their swollen, greeeeedy inches inside of you.
“So?”
It’s Sukuna who’s speaking- and you can just barely manage to extract yourself from the valley of his pecs. Sometime during their furious cadence, you’d wound up salivating between his toned chest. “S-so?”
Gojo hums, “So what’s the verdict, sweetheart?”
“Verdict?”
Sukuna tuts with one of his usual eye-rolls. “So- who’s first, mama? Who did that slutty pussy of yours want more?”
“O-oh…” Your mouth drops agape, “It was…”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Blinking back the tears in your eyes- “It was…”
“Take your time, my girl.”
“It was-” It’s then and there - mid-moan to one of Gojo’s impatient thrusts - that you decide to come clean to the two men. Sadly looking down—if you were in any clearer a state of mind then maybe you’d have noticed the way both their plummy tips throb even harder when you pout. “I don’t…know…”
“Well…” Gojo looks at Sukuna, and Sukuna looks back.
“Well.”
And there seems to be a silent conversation there that you weren’t privy to.
“We can always fuck her pussy and then ask her.”
“Y’know- sometimes I love the way you think.”
You’re not quite sure which one of the two suggested it, and which one of the two simply agreed - Gojo or Sukuna. Because they’d finally fit inside and now Gojo and Sukuna were pistoning their hips up into you like they were trying to make you forget the other.
Trying to make your mind nothing but a blur.
The pinkish lengths disappearing in and out of you nothing but a blur.
Both of their split-ended cockheads dig into the deepest grooves of your pussy, finding each of your favorite spots as if they were almost magnetized to them. It just felt so good to have them slide across your walls and slide across each other- those veiny lines on their cocks being pressed against the other’s shaft. Bulging out your tight channel like you never could have imagined before. Expectedly, knowing your body for a longer time, Gojo is the first to find your g-spot and preeeeess his flared tip against it.
He smirks down at Sukuna- who didn’t take more than a few more vicious strokes to find it himself. Though he can’t lie the blow it did to his ego— “What was that? Your cute lil’ womb feeling lonely, girlie?” Sukuna’s speaking down at your slurping cunt, “Awww don’t worry, I’ll help you-”
“Tch…” To which the other man was also concentrating a bit more on the route that his length was taking inside your channel. Gojo was hard and sloppy- the cap of dribblin’ pre on his shaft making it so that sometimes he’d barely even graze his tip against your channel until he’s doing it all over again. “Upset you can’t find the g-spot?”
“M’surprised a man like you could even find the clit.” Sukuna’s snarling back, purposefully dipping his thumb up to roll over that sweet nub.
“M’surprised a man like you was even given the chance to fuck her.” Gojo chuckles haughtily.
“Why were you surprised when a man like you was given the chance?”
“At least I won the match-”
“At least I won the girl—my girl.”
Gojo bristles, “You seriously think you won my girl over?”
“If the shoe fits-”
Gojo scoffs- and thankfully it’s the only thing he does. Thankfully he’s ignoring the vengeful temptation within him that’s telling him to just deck Ryomen Sukuna in the face one and for all.
Instead, he’s taking his anger out simply on your cunt. Both ice hockey captains swipin’ their rotund crowns inwards and attempting to fuck the decision out of you.
Faster.
Harder.
Choose me. Choose me. Choose me.
“Sh-shit, how am I ever meant to choose—” You’re gasping through your cascade of tears, legs twitching- and you’re taking it as a sign to mean that your high was nearby. Though how you were expected to orgasm once more with the sheer amount of overstimulation that your body was wracking from, you had absolutely no idea.
And Gojo and Sukuna were fucking you like they didn’t even care about that in the first place.
They had their hands gripping onto your body- almost teamwork. “Don’t tell me that we’re gonna go this long without you even choosing, sweetheart…” Gojo purrs. He was the one holding you open, and Sukuna was the one taking advantage of that to twiddle n’ tug at your clit.
“Yeah- don’t think yer getting out of this any time soon.” Sukuna agrees - agrees with Gojo Satoru for what was likely the first and last time ever in his entire life. You squirm your hips and he’s pinning you down to keep you from moving a single inch—“If ya don’t choose now then we’re gonna have another- hah, round.”
Eyes damn near bulging out of your skull, “A-another round?”
“Another round.” Gojo affirms. His head falling into the crook of your neck, “And another round- and another round- and another round and another round and another-”
“Aaaaaall the way until you finally choose, girlie.” Sukuna chuckles darkly—“Me or him.”
“Me or him.”
“I…I choose—” You start off- and you can feel the way that both Gojo and Sukuna lean in even closer to hear your ultimate decision. Who’s pussy was this? Whose girl were you? They’re slammin’ their hips into yours so hard that the skin of their pelvis grows bright red. “I choose-”
“Yes?” Gojo shoves his cockhead against a particularly sweet spot inside you.
“Mhm?” Sukuna was pressing down haaaard on your clit like the cutest button.
And it’s with great difficulty - and a few more rabid strokes - until you can speak. “I choose…that you both fuck me again.”
Such filthy, filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth-
It’s enough to make both you and Gojo cum again- and for Sukuna to take one lingering look at you two before he himself starts to throb with his high. “Fuh-fucking hell.” Never stuttered in years since his first team tryouts. Never felt so overcome with his orgasm since he first discovered what the hell that was.
They’re both pumping out looong luxurious stripes of their seed.
Your own high was nothing but a mere few trembles by this point—or so you think. That is, until those faint tingles burst into something so intense and white-hot that you see your vision blacken for a few seconds. A strange wetness seeping between your legs.
You wonder just what might have happened- until Sukuna’s low whistle sounds. “Squirting, huh?”
“All because of me-”
“Actually-”
You have to open your eyes and see for yourself- and it’s making you gape at the splashes of squirting sap that escape you. So much so that you start to wonder just where so much of it must’ve fit, so hard that it makes every single double thrust push you through your constant high. “Sh-shit, I did this…”
Again and again.
Only once the most of it has bated and left you unclenching can you focus on taking every single wad that they’re planting inside you. Emptying out their heavy balls. Using both globular cockheads to swipe the dewy droplets inwards.
“Inside, motherfucker.” Sukuna spits out at the other man, guiding his ruby-red tip to swivel inside.
“I already know, you fool.”
“Sh-shit, there’s so much of it.” The mess of it glazes your insides and creates a sort of second skin. Only temporary, however, because every time you were fucked- that sheen would splosh all over again. “I feel so…ngh.”
“Mmm, filled up to the brim?” Sukuna swipes his thick fingertip down your slit and collects the excess of ivory cum dribbling out of you.
Gojo helpfully supplies as well, “Properly stuffed full?”
Sukuna smirks, “Wet like a waterpark?”
“The sweetest treat with a creamy middle?” Gojo was ruttin’ his hips up furiously, properly fucking all three of you throughout your orgasm. Toes curling. Back arching. Even when his own high was starting to peter out now and he was only pumping you full—
“Like yer gonna explode?”
“Heh, like yer gonna end up pregnant-”
You’re throwing your head back with a mewl, clawing onto their muscular bodies- “Please-” Just fucked stupid until both their waves of bliss are fading out. Pouring pumps of wadded cum every time they underwent a peak of bliss, “F-fuck, please-”
“Please?” Sukuna raises one brow down at the way you sob, “Whaddaya mean ‘please’? I distinctly remember a certain indecisive pussy- and you, wanting to go another round n’ really decide? Right, Satoru?”
“Most certainly, Ryomen.” Your boyfriend - that traitor - is fucking agreeing with his rival for one.
When did that even happen—?
But you don’t have the time to think too deeply about it- because in almost no time, they’re pulling out. In the next blink you find your limp body laid flat across one of the large wooden benches in the locker room.
Gojo and Sukuna kneeled between your legs and looking absolutely famished. You could feel their cum pouring out of you triple-fold like this, a slow n’ slick ooze.
“Shit- look at the way she’s leaking.” Gojo nudges Sukuna.
Sukuna smirks back, “Mostly because of me, heh?”
“You fuck-”
“Ahem.” They’re snapping their eyes to you instantly, just so pretty when they kneeled before you like this—they should do it more often. Still twitching from the aftershocks of your high, “And you- ngh, want me here because…?”
“To eat that pretty pussy out, mama- duh.” Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Because no matter what, we belong to you.”
Gojo pipes up, “Just trying to figure out the logistics- I want to taste my girl first, you’ve already had your turn-”
“Eh? Fuck off, I’m eating her out first-”
“You already-”
“Why not both?” It’s become your mantra, of sorts. And you’re leaning back on your elbows against the bench, leads spreadin’ just a bit wider.
The two hockey look players between you and your pussy with widened eyes.
Before you’re reaching out and bringing their heads together to kiss your puckered cunt. Their lips meeting your pussylips. Their lips meeting each others—
A hot, open-mouthed kiss.
Gojo moans.
Sukuna can’t keep the blush off of his ears once his and Gojo’s tongue slide against each other and fight for purchase of your cream-covered cunt-
“Help me decide, boys.”
.
.
.
“Aaaaand we have Gojo Satoru and Ryomen Sukuna coming up to the center to take the opening face-off, ladies and gentlemen.” Different game. Same commentator. “This might just be the most anticipated moment in our play-offs: Tokyo Free Blades vs. Heian Hawks. Gojo Satoru vs. Ryomen Sukuna. The strongest center now vs. the strongest center in history—and which one of them will take the Stanley Cup?”
Gojo and Sukuna were skating up to the face-off circle, their hockey sticks at the ready and their eyes locked on one another.
It had only been a month or two of fooling around until yet another NHL play-off, this time in Shinjuku, had the two men facing each other. And they were ready for it- in fact, they almost seemed excited for it.
Your two boyfriends are lowering into position as the referee arrives to give them a concise speech, and you can’t help but jump up and down with your cheers. Still slightly sore from how hard they went on you. Still covered in marks down your neck and your thighs from both of them. You were in the fan section for the Heian Hawks, despite the Tokyo Free Blade jersey you wore - but at least the banner in your hand announced—Shinjuku Showdown! Go Go Toru and Kuna!
And yet, even then you knew that one of them would find something to whine n’ huff about until you gave them extra coddling. You hope you didn’t write one of their names bigger than the other…
It drew a few stares, predictably.
From fans around you that beamed or from the particularly fervent fan that couldn’t comprehend this betrayal. You just never would have expected that it would draw the attention of the game commentator itself-
“And what’s that? Isn’t that Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend?” To your acute horror and amusement, you’re suddenly seeing yourself splashed across the big screen. “Look here, ladies and gentlemen- Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend with her support for the Heian Hawks as well—raise that banner higher, my dear.”
With a cheer, you do as you’re told. You know this is about to take over your entire timeline very, very soon.
“Well well well, who could’ve imagined? Maybe the Prince of the Ice has some competition, eh?” Panning over the visuals to a smirking Sukuna and Gojo who was rolling his eyes- fondly, however. “Isn’t this the same lass that caused a fight between the two players during their last match together?”
Though you’re shaking your head with a laugh, Sukuna raises a thumbs up.
“Who’d have thought…maybe a friendship between two heated rivals really is possible after all?” The commentator muses out loud, and you’re dodging the phone cameras that are being shoved your way now. Being Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend always did come with a bit of publicity that you never did expect, but being the girlfriend of both of them…“Or maybe even…something more?”
Gojo and Sukuna look at each other.
They flip each other off.
“Or maybe not—” The man declares to roaring laughs, and Yaga is smoothly lifting his hand in a signal of dropping soon. “Let’s have a good game Gojo and Sukuna fans. Clean. Fair. For that Stanley cup. No one gets injured too badly and most important of all—rock me!”
The puck drops.
The game starts.
Who's winning over the Stanley Cup (and you?)
King of the Rink
Prince of the Ice
Forget them, you're the only real winner here.
A/N. Shinjuku showdown? More like Shinjuku PLOUGH-down *throws tomatoes* Also fun fact: some of the commentary in here were taken from actual games!
Plagiarism not authorized.
fwing this so heavy yall don’t get it
house of love
₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: the quiet, the loud, the sweet, the turbulent, the domestic and the frantic household of the nanamis. (aka, 6,000+ words of pure domestic fluff with husband!nanami).
word count: 6.5k words
the kitchen
"are you decent?"
it's your favorite little inside joke with him. five years into dating, one full year of marriage, many spilled coffees and late night tv marathons later - you still refuse to let nanami forget about the time he was caught in nothing but his underwear, rummaging through the cupboards at 3am to make himself a cup of tea.
other men would complain. call you annoying. overbearing. maybe insult you in return.
but never your husband.
never nanami, who instead melts into a soft grin at your cheeky tone, who can practically envision your wry smirk and the teasing tilt of your pretty head whilst he has his back turned to you over a hot stove. he counts the seconds till your arms - by habit - wrap around his waist, your sleep addled face burying into his dress shirt. you can feel his chest reverberate against your skin when he chuckles, his soft scent of mint and sandalwood enveloping your senses.
"darling, like i always say..." he trails off, flicking off the stove and turning you around carefully so that you don't burn yourself. the blonde finds you smiling sleepily in his large grey knit sweater, bare legs against the morning cold, left eye practically shut with how sleepy you are. "that was one time."
he finishes his sentence with a soft kiss to your forehead as you groan, nuzzling in closer. it's 9am on a sunday, far too early for you, but much too late for an early riser like him.
to be fair, nanami tries to tell you to sleep in. even manages to train his body to wake up 10 minutes before his usual alarm, so that he can slip out of bed without waking you on the weekends. but you always refuse.
"sunday mornings with you are sacred." you'd said.
and you mean it.
so every sunday, even on a slow autumn morning like today when you both have a long extended weekend due to a public holiday... you're both up before 9. you, half awake and with no pants, and him, an apron neatly tied behind his back and his fingers covered in pancake flour.
"just saying, nami." you mumble, eyes drifting shut then open as you attempt to wake yourself up. "i'm still traumatized by seeing a practically naked man going through my cupboards late at night."
from this angle, he can count every curve and dip of your face, the golden sunlight filtering in through the slightly ajar window. it's a sight he never tires of, the way the sun seems to perfectly alight your hair in an auburn blaze, your cold arms wrapping him closer.
"again, my sincerest apologies. would a stack of banana pancakes win your forgiveness?" he teases, nudging you towards the finished stack of pancakes sitting on the stove. the smell hits you more than anything, and you look up at him with a challenging grin.
"perhaps."
setting the table is an easy, familiar routine. you straighten the napkins, unfold the tablecloth from under the sink, and grab the maple syrup from the upper counter. nanami's already brewed your coffee, kept warm in a microwave and now poured into your favorite mug. the berries for the pancakes have already been handwashed and dried in a yellow bowl, every knife and fork perfectly aligned in height on the table. and whilst you duck under him to set the plates, he's humming an old jazz tune to himself, plating the pancakes neatly in perfectly stacked circles.
you sit down first, resting your head on your hands, arms propped up on elbows to watch him move around the kitchen. he moves gracefully and effortlessly - sliding in dishes and shutting oven doors, taut muscle flexing underneath his shirt every time he reaches for something up ahead.
"you're staring." he teases, to which you playfully scoff, hands straining to try and open the bag of powdered sugar resting on your lap.
"oh, like you don't?"
you finally manage to get the bag open, only for it to go everywhere, powdery white sugar caking your face and the table. your eyes shut at the sudden explosion, only peeking them open when you feel nanami's warm fingers on your lips. he looks amused, dusts away the sugar on your lips before bringing it up to his mouth, tasting it with a knowing smirk on his face.
"well if i don't stare at you, darling, who will make sure you don't blow up our apartment with sugar?"
you pout at his good natured teasing, which is quickly remedied with a kiss - soft, sweet, a dash of bitterness from the afternotes of nanami's morning green tea. he fishes a clean hand towel from the bathroom and gently rubs the sugar off your face, being careful not to poke you in the eyes.
"next time, perhaps let me open the bag of sugar?" he teases, and you groan at him in response.
the bathroom
you hear his footsteps before you even see him.
you don't need to turn your head around to look at the clock adorning the wall to confirm your suspicisons that it's almost 10pm.
it's been another late day in the office for nanami, and his work shoes hit heavy when they fall half-hazardously to the floor, followed by the dragging of fabric (his stuffy blazer) and the soft jiggling of house keys.
he's exhausted. he's texted you hours beforehand that he'd be late, apologising profusely that he's going to be having another bento box from 711 instead of your home-cooking. he's dragging a hand down his face, fully prepared to be extra quiet to not wake you from your sleep.
to nanami's surprise, however, the shared bedroom is empty. instead, the bathroom is emitting a muted yellow glow from where the door is left slightly ajar, warm steam unfurling from the room.
"honey." your voice cuts through the dark, tired but warm, almost as if putting him in a trance. his work bag is quickly discarded on the bed, tie left loosely hanging from his neck when his feet carry him over to the bathroom by instinct.
it'a sight that nearly makes him cry with gratitude. you're in the bathtub, bubbles up to your shoulder, two glasses of white wine delicately balancing next to you alongside an assortment of skincare products.
"care to join me? please?"
nanami's suddenly wide awake, pulling the fabric from his skin at a record-breaking pace, before sinking in across from you in the bath. the hot water settles around his aching body perfectly, your legs entangling with his in the water as you come in closer towards him.
"hi." you giggle, brushing the spare bubble stuck on his chest.
"hi." he smiles at you, a light blush still coating his cheeks at the sight of you. it doesn't matter how many times he sees you naked, he always gets a bit flustered in an endearing way.
"can i pamper you?"
he blinks at you, a few times, taken back by your request.
"pamper me?"
"you know." you shrug, fingers tracing his face. "do your skincare. give you a massage. let you sip your glass of wine."
he's ready to refuse, given the time of day.
"darling, it's awfully late and i know you've had a full day of work as well, i don't want you to-"
"but i want to. please?"
and damn, when you stare up at him with that pleading tone and that sweet face, your husband is never able to deny you.
so he lets you. rub lavender oil on his back and massage his shoulders. gently apply an exfoliating face mask to his face, complaining when he tries to interrupt you by kissing you. he gets his few sips of wine in as you shuffle back and forth in the narrow tub, reaching for a variety of different scrubs, oils and serums, whilst he admires how radiant you look even at 10pm with no makeup.
"stop smiling, ken." you say aloud with your back turned to him, making him smile even wider.
"and why am i not allowed to smile at my gorgeous wife?"
"you're crinkling the face mask - it won't dry if you do that."
after the bath is drained and his face fully washed off, it's his turn to treat you.
he towels you off gently, kissing the top of your head as a thank you, and fetches you a nice change of clothes from the closet. he makes sure to fluff up the pillows on your side of the bed and closes the curtains in the room, checking the locks on the front door for the final time.
he brushes his teeth, you plug in your phone for the night, and he flicks off the remaining light in the room before climbing into bed with you. he feels you curl into his chest in the dark, quiet breaths filling in the air, as his arms tighten around your frame.
"thank you for tonight. you truly didn't need to go through the trouble." he confesses quietly into the dark, imagining how your face would be scrunching up in response.
"i wanted to." you murmur, sleep already overtaking your senses as you fight a yawn with each word. "you... you deserve the whole world, nami."
"impossible." he whispers into the crown of your head. "i already have you, love."
you're already asleep on his chest at that point, but it doesn't matter to him. heart bursting with affection and skin still smelling of lavender from the bath, sleep overtakes him too within minutes.
his smile, permanent on his lips.
the home office
"please????"
you're pulling out all the stops. his favorite dinner? already set on the table, with a homemade recipe you've been cooking since 4pm. his favorite dress on you? worn, despite the cold temperature outside. your best begging face? engaged.
and yet, your husband looks incredibly torn at your request to get a kitten, scratching his neck awkwardly whilst looking at anywhere but you.
"i... i just don't know, darling..." he trails off, hating having to deny you but wanting to stick to his principles.
"whyyyyyy?" you groan, trapping him from running away by sitting on his lap. you both fall on the couch in a quiet plop, your legs straddling him as you cross your arms across your chest. it's taking everything within him not to fold then and there.
"i've just... never had a pet before."
"well neither have i!"
"and it's a big commitment, love. lots of responsibility. time, care, affection, training, money..."
he's trying to remain logical and grounded. to apply his business tactics to his negotiations with you, for crying out loud. but two years into the marriage and you know all his little tricks and quirks. whilst his colleagues would nod and politely agree, you simply shake your head and pull on his shirt, looking absolutely irresistible whilst doing so.
"but we can do it, i know we can!"
"we both work-"
"i can work more days from home. and on the days we're really busy, i can ask shoko to catsit for us-"
"we don't know what cats need-"
"i'll read every single cat book there is and watch a ton of videos on how to raise a perfect cat!"
"cats need a lot of attention and care-"
"well." you stop rambling, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you lean forward, challenging him. "i need a lot of attention and care. and you can handle me."
he can't help but let a smirk escape at that comment.
"i suppose that's true."
"so that's a yes?"
his silence eventually graduates to a reluctant yes, and three weeks later, you're carefully holding a bundle of white fur against your chest as you sit down on the office chair. setting down the heavy supply of cat food and toys in the corner, he watches the small creature meow from your arms, its blue eyes looking up at you with such adoration that it makes his heart melt.
"i think she likes the place." you comment quietly, as the cat's small eyes dart around the room in curiosity.
"i think the real question is if she'll like me." nanami jokes, sitting across from you. the cat recoils a bit at the sudden movement, hiding under your left arm, before its small head emerges back up in the air.
"don't be silly, of course she loves you. yuki, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"
thing is, nanami should be a little peeved. that the cat tower is taking up space in his office room. that his folders and books have had to be rearranged to make space for a cat. that instead of him being in your arms, it's a small white cat, purring and lapping up your attention like there's no tomorrow.
but any sense of jealousy and annoyance just melts away at the pure joy he feels at just how happy you look, how your radiant smile widens when yuki stretches or meows or does anything.
"i need the bathroom. hold her for me?"
before he can even object, you're carefully setting down the kitten on his lap, leaving the cat to meow loudly in defiance in your absence. yuki just keeps on looking towards the direction you left the room, meowing profusely, before her voice quiets and her curious blue orbs gaze up at him. spine suddenly straightening, he feels nervous under her gaze, left hand carefully coming up to stroke her head.
"h...hello."
to his surprise, she doesn't hiss. or bite. she just stares, as if nanami's the most interestingly shaped person in the world, sapphire blue eyes staring endlessly into his honey brown ones.
she suddenly then darts up his arm, settling down on his shoulder. her claws dig into his arm, though not painful given that her claws aren't sharp. it's still enough to make him jolt, particularly when she decides that isn't high enough and makes her way up to his head. he's baffled, confused, and also scared - not wanting to move instead he accidentally hurts the small creature.
it's then that you come back and burst out laughing, much to nanami's dismay.
"please help me, darling." he says weakly, whilst you're laughing so hard that you're folded in half.
"awwww, see, i told you she'd like you!" you tease, pulling out your phone. "i need to take a photo of this for gojo."
the photo of your husband in his office - half scowling, half smiling in amusement - with a baby yuki practically falling asleep on his head, becomes your phone lockscreen for months to come.
"alright alright, you've had your fun. now please help me?" nanami tries again, practically pleading at you. it's only then that you fold, carefully removing yuki and cradling her back into your arms.
"you're a great sport, nami." you tease, kissing him quickly on the lips.
he just sighs, pulling you down onto him so that he can wrap himself around you. and when he looks at the sight of you staring at yuki lovingly, carefully bundling her in a blanket and kissing her head, a vision flashes in his mind.
you, cradling his child in his arms.
it alights something warm in his chest, fuzzy and syrupy, but he chooses to keep it to himself. his hands rub soothing circles into your skin, his smile low and constant, as he allows himself to dream.
maybe someday, he thinks.
the garden
the shared communal garden is one of your favorite things about you and nanami's current apartment.
it's spacious - cobbled paths leading to large vines of fruit and vegetables, marble benches next to glass tables, a nice shaded area surrounded by trees and a longstanding greenhouse. on a sunny spring day like today, it's perfect for when you want an escape from the inside of your house, perched outside with an iced coffee and your favorite book.
so when a shadow falls over your book from behind you, you're certain that it's nanami, having come to check on you after being out of the house for a few hours.
"hi darling." you say aloud, not bothering to look up from your book.
instead of your husband's voice, however, it's a much darker, quieter voice which responds.
"that's bold. you call every stranger that?"
closing your book shut, you nearly jump in surprise at the unexpected voice, headphones slipping down your shoulder as you look up at the stranger. he looks to be around your age, if not slightly a bit older. dark hair, sharp jaw, lean. his left hand is covered by a gardening glove, his right hand carrying the other.
"oh god, sorry about that-" you stumble over your words, feeling mortified at the mistake.
he waves you off, seemingly amused by the situation.
"nah, don't worry about it. my fault for sneaking up on a pretty girl without saying anything, hm?"
maybe it's because you rarely go out without nanami. or that you and him have practically the same friend group, all of whom know how crazy you two are for each other. or that you always have headphones in whenever you go out, blocking out the calls of the outside world.
it's been years since someone's boldly flirted with you, someone that isn't your husband, leaving you at a loss for words at his boldness.
"i... i should get going." you're flustered, quickly tucking your book under your arm as you try and stand up. only to accidentally knock the glass on the table, spilling it.
"shit."
the man only chuckles, crouching down and fetching the glass for you. you only manager to whisper a meager thank you, not able to look at him in the eyes as he holds out the glass towards you.
"name's eren, what about you?"
yikes. you hype yourself up in your head, ready to tell him that you have a husband, one that you're crazy for and would never leave.
"i-"
but before you can even say anything, there's a hurried set of footsteps and a familiar arm shooting out to pull you against him.
nanami.
his usually kind, gentle gaze is gone. replaced by something fierce, like a tidal wave about to crash into the shore, jaw clenched tight as he pulls you behind him.
"thank you for catching her glass." he lets out through gritted teeth, voice professional and taut. he's the one to take the glass from eren, steely gaze never leaving the other man's eyes. "but my wife won't need further assistance, i'm afraid."
it's only then that eren's eyes catch your wedding ring, carefully tucked underneath your shirt as a necklace, visible only when you shift and your collarbone is exposed through the gap in your sweater. eren feels foolish, and nanami feels even more protective at how the man clearly stared at your exposed skin.
"ah, sorry. i didn't know you were taken."
"clearly." nanami cuts in, whilst you grip his arm tightly at his sudden outburst.
"nanami! sorry." you give eren your best apologetic smile, trying to ease the tension. "um, it's okay eren. but as you can see, my husband-" you give a pointed look to the blonde man, who is still glaring holes into eren's head. "and i are very much still happily together."
"no worries. again, my bad for not checking."
before nanami can get another smart comment in, you're tugging him away from the garden, all warm smiles and courtesies of "have a nice day!" being exchanged in rapid succession. nanami's hand sneaks behind your back, possessively applying pressure on your skin in a way that makes you grin like an idiot.
he doesn't let up all the way down the stairs of the garden, inside the elevator to your apartment floor, not even when the front door shuts behind you two. hanging your scarf at the front door, you're barely two steps into your house when nanami spins you around and kisses you against the wall. hands gripping your waist, lips hungrily attacking yours, a small groan escaping his throat.
"that was... awfully rude of me, i know." he admits, kissing you again. "but i couldn't stand thinking about him touching you, love."
"you're awfully jealous today, nami." you tease, voice coming out hoarse from the lack of air. "i like it."
"next time-" he murmurs against your skin, lips tracing your neck. "take me to the garden with you, okay?"
"okay."
the bedroom
nanami usually cherishes his silences with you. the quiet calm at the dead of night, the comfortable quiet that settles in between the two of you on a lazy day, the unspoken affection when you place your head on his shoulder when you're tired.
but not this kind of silence.
no, instead, this type of silence - the kind that you've been maintaining for the past three hours, your inability to look at him in the eye or acknowledge his existence - is the most painful.
he's seen you mad before. of course he has. you two have had disagreements. what couples don't?
but you were furious.
so angry that the only words you'd spoken to him was demanding that he sits down on a hastily pulled out chair in the shower, rinsing the blood away from his left leg before you pulled out the first aid emergency kit from under the sink.
"i'm terribly sorry, darling." he tries, for the millionth time.
silence. your eyebrows don't even twitch, your gaze dead and empty as you methodically measure the length of bandages needed.
"i know i went against what we agreed on."
ignored. you cut into the medical tape with scissors, eyes unwavering.
"i know i must've terribly scared you when i pushed you away from the curse."
the snip-snip of the scissors cut through the icy silence, tape ripping in the same rhythm of his heart. his wife, the love of his life, is refusing to look at him. anger radiates off you in waves, and you're bandaging his wounds with an equal amount of grudge and anger.
"but i wasn't willing to risk it being you who i got injured. i couldn't." he tries pleading with you. to get you to understand, to see it from his perspective, that he'd much rather it be him than you who gets hurt-
you just snap the first aid kit shut with a loud crack, buckling the box shut before sliding it back down under the sink.
you refuse to even look back at him, instead walking off to the closet to change out of your current clothes. he winces, genuinely winces at your reaction, one shaky leg walking after another in an attempt to catch up with you.
"darling-"
you throw your clothes on the floor as if they've personally offended you, fingers hastily pulling down your comfy clothing from the clothing rack without bothering to unbutton them first.
"love-"
you walk past him towards the kitchen, grabbing yourself a cup of water. you stand motionless in front of the sink, waiting for your cup to be filled up as nanami continues to beg. yuki meows at you from the corner, your eyes lighting up at the sight of her, but strategically avoiding meeting nanami's.
"sweetheart-"
you settle back down onto your bed with yuki jumping in after you, curling into your chest as you carefully pull the covers up over you, turning the only light in the room (the lamp next to the bed) off. blinking at the sudden darkness, nanami forces down his sigh, before flicking the bedroom lights back on.
"honey-"
he finally meets your eyes, begging you to talk to him, but you just turn your body around the other way. the guttural sigh that escapes his lips is one of genuine pain, his heart breaking in two at the continued fight. he hates fighting with you. worse, he hates having hurt you, knowing that you'd had to patch up his wounds and finish off the curse yourself as he was unable to walk properly.
he wobbles over to where you're lying down, and gets on his knees.
"darling, please. you're killing me over here."
"oh, like how you almost killed yourself back there?" you spit, your tone venomous and unwavering.
"i know, i know. i fully accept that i was being reckless. not only to my own life but yours - i left you to exorcise a special grade curse by yourself because i was too hasty and got injured in the process."
"i didn't need you to jump in front of me, you know."
"i know, darling."
"oh really? then why do you consistently have to get yourself hurt? do you not trust me?"
your question drives a dagger into his chest, and he shifts closer towards you, now sitting down on the bed to look down at your crumpled face. you look halfway between shouting at him and crying, a sight he hates to see.
"what? of course not, darling. there's no one else in the world i trust more than you."
you sit up at that comment, yuki still curled up and dozing on your chest, as tears sit on the bottom of your lashes.
"then why can't you trust me to handle things by myself?"
he shuffles in closer, careful to not sit on your legs.
"it's not that i don't trust you, love, it's that..." he wrestles with himself, sighing. "knowing that you signed to be a sorcerer, that you're okay with getting hurt... i'll never be able to accept it. i mean, as a fellow sorcerer, i should, but as your husband of four years, i-"
biting down a shaky breath, he forces himself to continue.
"i'd rather die than see you get hurt." he says it with complete finality, complete conviction, meeting your watery eyes with his steely gaze.
"you could've gotten killed today, kento." you whisper quietly, as if you're scared of saying it out loud, your eyes darting away from meeting his. a spare tear escapes from your eyes which you quickly wipe away, embarrassed. "i can't tell you how terrified i felt when i saw you lying there on the dirt, your left leg bleeding and your eyes shut."
"oh darling..."
he wraps his arms around your shoulder then, your whole body starting to shake with sobs as he shakily kisses your hairline. with every kiss, he's whispering an apology, promising he'll do better, acknowledging that he's messed up.
"h-how would you feel i-if the roles were reversed, hm?" you let out through sputtered breaths. the question sends an icy chill down his spine. even the slight imagination of losing you makes him sick, a nightmare he doesn't even want to entertain.
"i've really, really screwed up darling. you may punish me in any way you find fit. but please, please..." he pulls away slightly, and pulls your chin up so your eyes meet his. "don't shut me out. anything but that."
"okay." you respond, leaning into his touch.
out of the corner of his eye, nanami can see that it's nearly midnight. smoothing down your hair, he kisses your forehead again in comfort.
"you're exhausted, love. let's sleep on this for the night and talk about it in the morning, okay?"
"okay."
"... i love you. so so much."
he's gripping you so tight, as if he's afraid you'll break into a million pieces if he doesn't.
the love is always louder than the hurt.
dining room
"do you prefer the sunflowers out in front or slightly behind the bookcase?"
it's your birthday party, and yet you're the most antsy. constantly walking back and forth, re-adjusting the balloons. rearranging the decorations, checking the fridge to pull out new snacks and put away old ones, turning your phone on and off for news of your friends.
"it's all lovely, darling." nanami tries to ease your anxiety from behind you, a warm hand reassuringly resting on your back. you look up at him, playfully glaring at him with your hands on your hips.
"of course you'd say that."
"would a good husband of five years not?"
"touche."
slowly but surely, guests begin to arrive - shoko's brought a birthday cake big enough for thirty people. geto trails in with a neatly wrapped gift and an apologetic smile at the sight of gojo, a sugar-fuelled mess with a mountain of presents balancing on his shoulders. somewhere in the blur, you notice a few school friends, old colleagues, even the really sweet elderly neighbors from downstairs who always bake you cookies.
it's a lively party, a jazz record humming in the air, people chatting over food and drinks. you're almost dizzy with how many people there are to greet, old friends and new, lots of thank yous for nicely wrapped gifts and neatly written cards.
nanami's with you through it all. sometimes, with a hand on your back, politely nodding along to conversation and taking the heavy gifts out of your hands. even when you two separate, so that you can go talk to your friends and he talks to his, you can feel his gaze anywhere in the room.
and when you look up at him, he just smiles knowingly, nodding at you in a loving way.
"how's mrs. nanami doing?" gojo teases, swinging his arm around your shoulder to pull you in close. nanami scowls but you find gojo's teasing harmless, as if he's never grown up from his teenage days when you all met.
"tired, but good."
"tired? on your birthday?" he gasps, as if what you said is scandalous. you carefully look towards shoko, one of the few people to know your secret, who just hides her grin behind her glass of wine.
"just feeling a little bit more tired than usual. haven't been sleeping well, that's all."
nanami straightens up at that comment, his face quickly crumpling in worry.
"you haven't been sleeping well? darling, you didn't mention this."
"it's nothing, i promise." you whisper back to him squeezing his head reassuringly.
"relaxxxxxxx nanami. i'm sure the mrs just needs a few glasses to chill her out, anyways. here." gojo digs through his mountain of gifts before pulling out a sake bottle. "this stuff is really expensive and really good. want me to pour you a glass?"
you shift nervously from side to side, trying to retain a neutral expression.
"oh, i'm not drinking."
gojo's eyes nearly burst out of his skull at your response.
"really? even on your birthday?" he eyes you playfully, bumping into your shoulder to coax you. "come on, just a sip."
"no, i...." you feel everyone's eyes on you, including gojo's confused ones and shoko's amused gaze, which all makes you even more nervous. nanami's stopped drinking his own glass of wine, carefully dissecting your conversation with gojo with an expression that you can't quite read. swallowing anxiously, you let out a short laugh. "look, i just... i can't."
gojo doesn't catch on, simply cocking his head to the side.
"what do you mean you can't?"
"it's not.... good for me." you pause, struggling to get through the sentence. the background chatter is still there, light jazz mingling with a cacophony of different voices - neighbors to neighbors, strangers laughing over cigarettes, someone slapping their friend on the back enthusiastically - but all you can feel is the rushing of blood between your ears, and the intense gaze of your husband which doesn't let up. "now, anyways." you nearly whisper the final part, diverting your gaze from gojo.
shoko just hides her laugh between her glass. she knows, of course. geto's expression breaks into a knowing, amused smile, whilst gojo stares at you dumbfoundedly for a few moments (needing a few seconds for the announcement to settle in). the relative peace is broken when you hear the sound of glass hurriedly being put down on the wooden table and warm hands grabbing your waist gently, spinning you around to look straight at nanami.
his honey brown eyes are cautiously hopeful, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of shock and giddiness, and his fingers are rubbing circles into your skin.
"darling, are you..."
"i'm pregnant, kento."
the blonde breaks into the widest smile you've ever seen, before he's kissing you square on the lips - strong but delicate in a way to ensure he doesn't hurt you - and you catch a glimpse of tears begging the corner of his eyes when he pulls you into his embrace.
shoko is busy taking photos of you and nanami in the moment, geto lets out a warm congratulations, and gojo is eagerly trying to hug you whilst nanami glares at him to stay back from the corner of his eyes.
"so... am i going to be the godfather?!" gojo instead decides to tease, causing you to giggle from nanami's embrace.
"this is going to be an interesting journey, isn't it?" he whispers against your collarbone, the comment only being caught by you. catching shoko's wink from over nanami's shoulder, you shrug amusedly and snuggle into his embrace.
"probably. but aren't we ready for it?"
"we sure are."
and this time, when gojo joins the hug by wrapping his arm behind you, neither of you or nanami complain.
the nursery
the house is unusually quiet when the front door clicks behind you, your boots clicking against the wooden floor as you carefully set down the grocery bags and announce your arrival. usually, you're greeted by nanami's warm voice and the babblings of your daughter, but today, it's completely silent.
nanami's shoes are still in their perfect rows on the shoe rack, his favorite coat is left untouched folded over the couch.
he hasn't left the house then, so far as you know. so where was he?
trodding up the stairs, you notice the door to the nursery being wide open and decide to peek inside.
the sight you find makes your heart melt.
nanami, in his painter's overalls, dozing off on the rocking chair with your daughter clutching tightly onto the lapels of his shirt. her toys still scattered on the floor, the bedroom walls half-way painted in baby pink, the instruction manual for a bookcase still propped up on a desk with a (now cold) cup of tea holding it down. his blonde hair slightly messy, reading glasses falling down over his nose, lips slightly parted as slow breaths coming out.
you feel your heart neatly jump out of your chest at the cuteness, fingers scrambling to dig out your phone to take as many pictures as you can.
quietly giggling, you freeze when you notice your daughter start to stir, her sleepy eyes blinking open before falling on you. before she can start crying, you run over to her quietly, carefully scooping her into your arms to not wake your husband up.
though, at the sensation of a familiar weight being lifted off his chest, nanami wakes immediately. his cheeks blushing a vibrant red when he notices you holding his daughter in your arms, realizing you caught him falling asleep in the nursery mid-way through painting.
"good morning husband." you tease, rocking your daughter up and down in your arms as nanami's blush deepens.
"good morning. my apologies, i didn't hear you get back from the store." he stands up quickly, as if remembering something. "do you need me to move anything to the fridge?"
"no, no, it's all fine. you've done enough for today, clearly."
his left arm loops around your waist and he groans into your neck at your teasing.
"enough teasing your poor husband, no? i... didn't mean to fall asleep, but amu was being quite playful today and i suppose it wore me out faster than expected." he says, sheepish, scratching the back of his neck in the most endearing way.
"hey." you look up at him sincerely, gaze melting with adoration. "you've already done a lot for the house, okay? baby proofing all the corners, buying baby supplies, assembling the furniture, painting the walls..." you kiss him gently, feeling his stubble against your face in the process. "you've done enough."
as if agreeing with you, amu opens her mouth and babbles, her eyes twinkling up at nanami as a silent form of communication. you both laugh, nanami's hands smoothing over her hair as he looks at you with a wry smile.
"it'll never be enough for me. not for you girls."
"how about i get my overalls on as well and help you finish painting?" you muse, rocking amu back and forth in your arms.
"you should be resting, darling." he frowns, fussing over you as always.
"hey, this is my house too, mister. i'd like to help it look nice too."
"it's all owed to you, darling. every single room in this house." he whispers against your lips, a sacred prayer of devotion lingering in the room. your heart melts at his confession, your head leaning back against his chest.
"... even though you've built all the furniture?"
"even so."
and despite the half-painted walls, the disorganized children's books on the floor, and the box of wooden shelves yet to be assembled leaning against the wall in the corner-
everything feels complete.
because he has you.
and the house that you two built together.
a/n: OH MY GODODODODODODDDDDD HI EVERYONE it's been so long since i posted anything (,,>﹏<,,) long story short has been that life has been absolutely insane: law school readings keep piling up, my run clubs keep me so engaged/busy and i'm learning japanese atm too!!!. i also don't think it helps that i'm a perfectionist and am incapable of writing short blurbs/fics sksksk so i had to wait until i had a good idea and could write for a while. anyways. i really like the idea of this fic, not too sure about the execution but!!!! gonna post it anyways.
also i am really excited for some of my wips... not gonna spoil too much but i am working on (1) a romeo and juliet!AU with romeo!gojo and juliet!reader (who is sukuna's sister so it's a sukuna v gojo twist) and (2) an avengers AU with captain america!nanami that i am just obsessed with.... hopefully that stuff sees the light of die before christmas (lmao) and you guys like it too. why am i so into aus atm idk. anyways. been so long since i posted my writing, a little nervous. just hope you guys like it!
ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★
nanami kento i love you in ways that’s indescribable in every language, that it transcends all earthy known emotions
save a horse, ride a cowboy ─ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
what's better than riding a big horse? ride the owner, and his bigger horse!
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway. on my old stud leroy. and the girls say, "save a horse, ride a cowboy!" everybody says, "save a horse, ride a cowboy!" ─ save a horse ride a cowboy, big & rich ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 you know i have to. i have to. speedrun the crap out of this <3 !! this is so nasty ahwhejdxj so just brace yourself for little plot n just filth >.< i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless~ as usual, reblogs, comments, likes, and asks are soo appreciated!
word count 10k warning advisory cheating, sexual tension is crazy, light possessive behaviour, lots of flirting, he's so fucking hot, they're so down bad for one another but adult style, innaccurate cowboy jargons, i don't proofread the smut because i'm shy smut advisory more fucking than plot, making out all the fuckin' time, sunghoon has a big cock sorry, pussy eating/licking, squirting, fellatio, throat fucking, fucking against the countertop, face sitting, cowgirl (duh!), mating press, creampie, lots of dirty talking, profanity, reader orgasms a lot, reader's a lil bratty, dom!hoon, fucking while wearing the cowboy hat yeehaw >.<
“what the fuck…?”
the car sputtered one last time before the engine died completely, rolling to a pathetic stop on the empty stretch of highway. dust kicked up around the tires as you gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“no, no, no—come on!” you slammed your palm against the wheel, once, twice, the horn blaring uselessly into the dry air. the dashboard lights flickering like it’s mocking you before going dark.
dead.
just completely dead.
you twisted the key in the ignition again—nothing. not even a weak cough or a vibration—just silence. “baby, seriously? now?” your voice cracked with frustration as you let your forehead thud against the steering wheel—once, twice—hands gripping the wheel.
“i just got you out of the workshop!”
you were already running late, even dressed up nicer than usual—your baby tees that weren't oil stained for once, the one that hugged your curves just right, paired with shorts that fit, and the delicate necklace your boyfriend had given you last month.
not to mention, your hair was done, a touch of makeup—with that fluttery feeling in your tummy because tonight was supposed to be special. weeks of texting, late–night calls, finally seeing him again…
and now you were stuck on the side of some forgotten highway with a dead car and no signal.
you let out a shaky breath. thank god the sun wasn’t dipping yet—it was only around 4 p.m. there was plenty of daylight left, hours before the sky would think about turning purple orange. that bought you time to get some help and inform your boyfriend the car was broken.
except…
your phone had no signal.
“oh my gosh—is this a joke?” you shook your phone again, tapping the surface on your palm in hopes it’d suddenly receive a signal from somewhere. when it didn’t—you tossed your phone to the side, landing on the passenger seat.
“okay… okay yn, think,” you muttered to yourself, leaning back and rubbing your temples. pop the hood? you weren’t a mechanic—you’d only do damage to the car. or wait it out—someone had to drive by eventually, right?
you stared out the windshield at the empty road stretching both ways, the quiet was almost too loud. your eyes trailed up to the little hill. you could walk a little ways to see if you could find higher ground for signal?
but it’s so… high and your last meal was a brunch that was almost four hours ago…
sit here and… hope?
you reached for the door handle, about to step out and at least look like you were doing something, when a sound caught your ear—clearer and closer.
hoofbeats.
steady… unhurried… like the rider itself had all the time in the world.
you froze, hand still on the handle, and watched from the rearview mirror as he emerged fully into view.
a lone rider on a sleek black horse, moving along the edge of the highway. dark jacket opened over a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his black cowboy hat pulled low, shadowing his face just enough to make your stomach flip with curiosity.
the way he sat on the saddle—straight–backed, relaxed but controlled—that quiet confidence dripping off him.
the man guided the horse closer, slowing to a stop a respectful distance from your car. the animal snorted softly, tossing its head to the side, and the rider leaned forward to calm it with a gentle pat on the neck.
then—those dark eyes lifted to meet yours through the mirror.
sharp. intense.
your breath hitched in your lungs—he swung down from the saddle effortlessly, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. tall—taller than you’d expected—long legs, lean build … biceps… the kind of presence that made the wide–open desert space around you feel suddenly smaller.
he adjusted his hat with one hand, the other holding reins loosely, and took a few slow steps toward your opened passenger window.
“hey there,” he said, voice low and smooth like… whiskey over ice, a faint tint drawl curling around the edges. he tilted his head just slightly, studying you—and the dead car—with calm interest.
“car troublin’ ya?”
your mouth went dry and you swore you forgot how to breathe. up close—he was even more fuckin’ striking. high cheekbones, honey skin glowing in the sunlight, lips pressed into a subtle line that hinted at amusement.
you… you didn’t know who this guy was—but fuck, he’s fucking hot.
you swallowed, managing a small nod. “y—yeah,” you finally said, voice coming out softer than you meant. “it just… died. won’t start—and there’s no signal out here.”
his gaze flicked to your phone on the passenger seat, then back to you. one corner of his mouth lifted.
“mind if i take a look?”
you gave him a small nod—he knew you’d say yes anyway, what option did you have? he stepped toward the front of the car. you popped the hood from inside, the latch clicking, then pushed the door open and climbed out.
the warm, dry, afternoon air hitting your skin.
sunghoon moved with that same unhurried motion, grace, looping the reins over his horse’s neck so she stayed put. he took off his jacket and rolled off his sleeves a little higher as he approached the engine, revealing his… toned forearms and biceps dusted with dust and sunlight.
you tried not to stare.
he leaned over the hood, one had bracing against the metal, the other tracing—his index and middle fingers—along the battery cables, checking connections… peering at belts and fluids… things that a pretty girl like you wouldn’t and shouldn’t know anyway.
those nice… slender fingers… suited being somewhere… better.
your eyes travelled at the way his black shirt stretched across his back and shoulders when he shifted… the light caught the sharp line of his jaw.
you stood a few feet away, arms loosely crossed against your chest, pretending to care about the car—but there’s a better view before you.
“battery looks fine,” he murmured, almost to himself. he straightened slightly, wiping a smudge of grease onto his jeans without care, then glanced over at you.
his eyes lingered.
not that… quick check–in if you were okay; but that slow… deliberate… lingering sweep—down the length of you. sunghoon swallowed in the baby blue baby tee clinging softly to your frame, the way your hair fell across your shoulders, the faint flush rising on your cheeks.
sunghoon tried so hard—so fucking hard—to not let his eyes fall onto the dip of your cleavage.
he failed.
when his gaze came back up to meet yours, he made it so obvious he was checking you out. there was something dark and unreadable flickering behind those orbs. curiousity—interest, something warmer than… the polite stranger act.
you shifted, suddenly hyper–aware of how close he was, how the faint scent of leather and sun–warmed skin drifted on the breeze.
“there’s a leak,” he said finally, tipping his chin toward your engine. “that’s why she overheated and shut down.” his tone was matter–of–fact, but he held your eyes longer than necessary made it feel anything but casual.
“...oh,” you managed, stepping closer—to see what he was pointing at—but honestly, just really drawn into his aura. you were so close to see the faint sheen at his temple, the way his lashes cast shadows. you were so close sunghoon could see the droplets of sweat trailing down the side of your neck, the way your upper teeth caught on your bottom lip.
he didn’t move.
instead, sunghoon stayed leaned against your car, arms loosely folded, watching you—not the engine—so painfully obvious it made your pulse flutter.
wow—you had no idea what’s leaking… in terms of the car, at least.
“you headed somewhere importan’?” he asked, voice dropping a fraction lower. his gaze flicked to your lips, then back up before you caught it. you swallowed. “mmhm. i… was supposed to meet… someone.”
a beat.
sunghoon’s head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitched into the tiniest smirk. “must be real disappointed right now,” he said, soft and slow, eyes never leaving yours. your breath hitched and the tension coiled tighter, warm and heavy in your chest… spreading lower.
“i—it’s okay,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out shy and a little breathless. your laugh soft and nervous as you tucked a strand of hair. “they’ll understand.”
his eyes stayed on you for a beat, dropping down just a little on your collarbone—but that faint smirk deepened just enough to make your tummy flip. after what felt like hours, sunghoon pushed off your yellow car, straightening to his full height that just towered over you.
“sunghoon,” he said simply, extending his hand. his voice was low, steady.
sunghoon, you rolled his name mindlessly in the back of your mind, tasting his name on your tongue. “mmhm,” you slipped your hand into his—warm and rough against your bare, softer skin—his grip firm but careful, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
the contact lingered, and neither of you pulled away first.
“yn,” you answered.
“yn,” he repeated, tasting the name like he was trying it out. a small nod, almost approving. sunghoon licked his lips before continuing. “pretty name for a pretty girl stuck on the side of the road.”
heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly glanced away, pretending to look at the engine, but you could feel his gaze still on you. it’s so unfair, you thought.
you broke it first. “well,” sunghoon sighed, closing the hood with a gentle thud, wiping his hands on his handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. “car’s ain’t gonna fix themselves out here. leaking like that—you’re not drivin’ anywhere tonight without coolant.”
you bit your lip, shaking your head, glancing at the empty hallway. “yeah… i figured.”
sunghoon looked at you—pity girl—then at his horse, then back at you—something flashed in his eyes.
“look,” he said, running his fingers through his dark locks. “i’ve got tools back at the ranch. spare house, too. it’s only a couple miles down the road.” he tilted his head slightly, making his gaze feel more intense.
“you can ride with me. get it fixed before dark, get your back on your way.”
your heart stuttered. ride with him..? ride him? on the horse? or…?
he must’ve seen the question in your eyes because the corner of his mouth lifted again. “my girl can take us both. or i can lead and walk, and you just sit pretty.”
you swallowed, glancing at the sun still high enough in the sky, the golden light catching on his shirt. then your gaze flicked back to the horse—big, calm, but still a horse…
what about… stranger danger…?
the thought slipped out before you could stop it, soft and uncertain, fingers twisting around the hem of your baby tee.
“um… what about stranger danger?” you asked, half laughing to cover your nerves, cheeks heating up again. you supposed you could just… ask this kind sunghoon stranger to return with a pipe… or something…
“i mean, i don’t know you—you don’t know me… and you want me to just… hop on your horse and ride off to your ranch?”
sunghoon paused. for a second, his expression didn’t really change, but the corner of his mouth curved. he’d find your worry both endearing and adorable.
cute.
“fair,” he said, shrugging. there was no defensiveness, or offense in it at all. he let his hand drop to his side, giving you space. “if you’re wonderin’ or scared, i get it. pretty girl alone out here—i’d be worried too.”
he glanced down the road in the direction he’d come from, then back at you.
“i live just a couple miles that way,” he continued, nodding toward a faint dirt turnoff you hadn’t noticed before. “there’s a diner right off the main road before you even get to my ranch—folks and ladies there know me.”
a small huff escaped him.
“or,” he added, tilting his head slightly, eyes softening. “we can walk the whole way. i’ll lead the way slow. you stay ten feet back if you want, i’ll even let you hold the reins.”
he said it completely serious too… like your comfort truly mattered more than getting back quickly. the sincerity in his voice, the way he didn’t push or be weird about it—just offering—made something in your chest loosen.
you looked at him again—you supposed… there was no point in waiting for other help to come by—and your heart gave a traitorous little thud.
“mm… okay. lead me the way.”
you slipped your hand out—and his fingers closed around yours and he guided you toward his horse. the animal watched you with dark eyes—much like the owner—ears flicking as you approached.
“easy now,” sunghoon murmured, more to the horse than you, running his hand down her neck. “snow’s gentle, she won’t throw you.”
he turned to you, smiling. “you ever been on a horse before?”
you shook your head, laughing nervously. “never… not even once—never had a reason to.”
a soft huff escaped him—almost a chuckle. “first time for everything.”
sunghoon moved to the side, cupping his hands together in a boost. “left foot here, grab the saddle horn and swing your right leg over it when i lift.”
your heart pounded, but you did as he said. sunghoon’s hands settled on your waist as he hoisted you up, strong and sure, and then you were in the saddle—legs dangling awkwardly, gripping the horn.
“eek—!”
he chuckled, swung behind you in a motion he’d done a billion times, settling in close—really close. his chest brushed your back as he reached around you for the reins, thighs framing yours, the heat of him immediately and overwhelming.
“you good?” sunghoon asked, voice low near your ear. you swallowed the lump in your throat, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. “m—mmhm,” you managed, hyper aware of every little shift and contact.
sunghoon’s arm circled loosely around your waist just to steady you on the horse—and you felt the subtle shift of his body as he nudged the horse forward with his heels.
snow started walking and rolling—making you sway instinctively. you tensed, gripping the horn harder.
“relax,” he said quietly, breathing now against the side of your neck. “lean back a little, i got you.”
you eased against him just slightly. his arm tightened the tiniest bit in response—reassured. the horse settled into a rhythm along the edge of the highway, hooves clopping against the dirt. the sun was still bright, golden, warm breeze carrying the scent of dry grass and… him.
for a minute, neither of you spoke.
until sunghoon broke it.
“so… where were you headed, dressed up like that?”
you laughed softly, glancing down at your baby tee and your nice jeans. “just… meeting someone.” sunghoon hummed, a deep sound that vibrated against your back from how close he was. “poor lad, waitin’ somewhere wonderin’ where you are right now.”
“probably,” you bit your lip, suppressing back a smile.
another beat.
his thumb brushed idly against the rein near your hip. “must be somethin’ special between you two,” he murmured, humming. “to get you out here lookin’ this pretty.”
your cheeks burned. you turned your head just enough to catch him—sharp line of his jaw… the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes.
“mayhaps,” you said softly. “could be i just like dressing up sometimes.”
sunghoon let out a quiet breath of laughter. “fair enough.”
snow kept walking, carrying you both on her strong body. you shifted slightly, getting used to the rhythm, and you slowly realised you weren’t as scared anymore.
actually… it felt kind of nice. the warmth of sunghoon, the strength of his arms, the quiet that didn’t feel awkward at all.
“so…” you said after a moment, corner of your lips twitched into a teasing smirk. “you do this often? rescue stranded girls on horseback?”
his lips curved—just a little. “first time of everything.”
you smiled despite yourself. “lucky me, then.”
he didn’t answer right away, just tightened his arm a fraction, guiding snow off the highway and onto the dirt path leading to the ranch. “yeah,” he said finally, voice warm against your ear.
“lucky me.”
——
sunghoon reached up for you, hands settling on your waist again—firm and steady—lifting you down like you weighed a feather. your boots hit the ground, but his hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.
“welcome to the house,” he said dryly, gesturing at the perfect tidy yard. a faint smile tugged at his lips as he tied the reins. “come on in, i’ll grab you something while i check the garage.”
he led you up the porch steps and pushed open the front foor—no lock, you noticed. must be safe around here, you thought, humming. the cool air inside hit you—the faint smell of coffee and wood floors.
“make yourself at home,” sunghoon said, tipping off his hat and hanging it on a hook. his dark hair fell slightly messier without it, a few strands brushing his forehead. “water, iced tea, lemon—fridge it through there.” he nodded toward the open kitchen.
“i’ll be in the garage. shouldn’t take long.”
his space was simple and tidy—leather couch facing a fireplace, shelves lined with books and framed photos of … sunghoon and his friends. his six other friends. equally as fine. a worn acoustic guitar leaned in one corner, blankets folded neatly over the couch arm.
no clutter, nothing sterile either.
just him.
you wandered through the big picture window overlooking the fields, the late–afternoon light pouring in soft. a few horses grazed in the distance.
everything was peaceful in a way the city never was.
the glass of lemonade cold in your hand as you turned slowly. your eyes landed on a small cluster of framed photos near the front door—one of sunghoon on horseback, younger; another him with an older man who shared the same features. must’ve been his father.
you didn’t realise you’d drifted closer, drawn in by that smile on his face. you were standing right in front of it, lemonade tilted slightly in your grip—completely lost in the photo,
when the door swung open.
sunghoon stepped inside, grease smudged rag in one hand, the other pushing the door wide—and you startled hard.
the glass jerked in your fingers—cold lemonade sloshed over the rim, splashing down the front of your baby tee in a sticky streak that soaked straight through the thin fabric.
“oh—gosh—” you gasped, jumping back a step, holding the glass out. sunghoon’s eyes widened half a second before he was moving, closing the door behind him with his boot and crossing to you.
“fuck, sorry—didn’t mean to scare ya’,” he said, voice rushed, already reaching for the rag in his hand. but it was dirty, so he stopped. “gosh, you okay?”
you laughed, breathless, embarrassed heat flooding your face. the lemonade left a cold, clinging patch right… across your front. “it’s fine, i wasn’t paying attention,” you mumbled, dabbing at the stain with your fingers instead.
“was looking at your pictures.”
he didn’t move back, didn’t look away. the air between you felt suddenly too small and cold again… despite everything burning.
“i’ve got spare shirts in the laundry room,” he said after a beat, eyes dropping to the stain—pervert—once more before meeting yours again. “clean ones, if you want to change.”
you nodded slowly, heart thudding in against your ribs.
“mm.. yeah, sure,” you said softly, glancing up to him from underneath your lashes. “that… might be good.”
——
you peeled off your soaked baby tee, the sticky lemonade making it cling uncomfortably. you’re only grateful your bra was there to soak the rest before the liquid reached your skin.
his… white shirt was huge—falling halfway down your thighs and completely covering your shorts, sleeves past your elbows, the collar loose enough to slip off one shoulder if you weren’t careful.
it smelled like sunghoon—clean cotton and traces of wood musk.
“... nice,” you caught your reflection in the small mirror above your dryer and laughed quietly to yourself. you looked swallowed whole by it.
just then, your eyes landed on something else through the reflection—his brown cowboy hat, hanging on a hook just inside the door. the different one from what he wore earlier. you bit your lip, glancing toward the door.
no signs of him.
just for fun, you never wore a cowboy hat before.
you reached up on your tippy toes and plucked it off the hook, settling in your head. it was too big, obviously—sliding down over your eyebrows until you had to tip it back with a finger.
to be honest, you looked kinda… hot. yeah—seductive, almost.
you smoothed his shirt down, adjusted the hat, and pushed the door open.
sunghoon was leaning just against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, looking down at his boots—but the second you stepped out, his head lifted.
and he froze.
his gaze swept over you—deliberately. the—his—oversized shirt hanging loose on your smaller frame, the hem brushing your thighs (only the little ripped strands of your shorts were showing up), the way the fabric draped over your shoulders.
that… hat tilting playfully on your head.
everything about him stilled. even the air felt heavier. his pants got tighter.
“everything’s… big,” you giggled, laughing to break the sudden tension, tugging at the sleeve that swallowed your hand. you gave a small spin, the shirt flaring slightly—you held the hat by the brim.
“like, really big.”
he didn’t laugh. didn’t even smile at first.
sunghoon just stared, his eyes darker than before, jaw tight, lips… wet.
then he pushed off the counter, closing the distance in one slow step.
“yeah?” he murmured, voice rougher, dropping an octave lower… low enough that you swore it vibrated in your chest. sunghoon reached out, fingers brushing the brim of the—his—hat, adjusting it slightly so it sat better.
so he could see your pretty face clearer.
his thumb grazed your temple as he did.
“looks better on you.”
your breath caught. he was close again—too close—hand lingering near your face. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his musk and sweat filling every inch of space between you.
he didn’t step back.
he took a slow step forward—then another.
until your back met the wall with a soft thud, the cool wood at your spine contrasting to what’s warming you up in front of you. the hat tilted slightly on your head as you tipped it back to look up at him, and his eyes—heavy lidded—locked onto yours.
“r—really?”
his hand dropped from the brim, trailing down the side of your neck, over the loose collar of his shirt on you, until his palm settled at your waist. fingers splayed wide—possessive—puling you in just a fraction closer.
then his hand went lower, skimming the curve of your hip, thumb pressing lightly into the dip above your shorts.
you didn’t want to move.
your hands came up instantly, fingers curling into the front of his black shirt, feeling his heart thumping under your palms.
“mmhm,” sunghoon leaned in, forehead almost touching yours, breath warm against your lips. “you’ve been driving me crazy since i saw you in that car,” he said, voice low. “now you’re in my shirt, my hat—lookin’ like you belong here or somethin’.”
your lips parted, but no words came—just a soft, shaky exhale.
his gaze dropped to your mouth.
“you do this often?” sunghoon murmured, his fingers drumming your skin. “wreck your car hopin’ some stranger’ll come along and fix it?”
you felt the words more than heard them… the teasing edge softened by the way his thumb traced your hip.
“only cowboys like you,” you whispered, the words barely out before—
sunghoon closed that tiny gap.
he slammed his lips against yours—evoking a soft, surprised gasp out of you—his hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him and positioning his knee in between your legs.
you melted almost instantly into his mouth, hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down as sunghoon angled his head to kiss you harder and deeper. his tongue traced your bottom lip, teasing, then slipped inside when you gasped for him—slow, hot, unhurried.
it made your knees buckle and weak.
sunghoon groaned quietly when you tagged at his hair, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours. “ngh—hngh—” you moaned into his mouth, tugging him down. the hat titled precariously; but he caught it with one hand, readjusting it on top of your head without breaking the kiss.
both of his hands were back on you—one splayed across your lower back, the other cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, lifting your head up. sunghoon glided his tongue along your row of teeth, tasting you slow and thorough.
a low hum rumbled in his chest when you parted for him, your own tongue meeting his in a slick curl that made you tighten your grip around his shirt. “hah—s—sunghoon,” you breathed out. your salivas mixed, messy and hot, a thin strand connecting your lips when he pulled back just enough to breathe—
only to dive back in harder, swallowing every little whimper and moan.
sunghoon kissed like he worked for it… having complete control like he would with snow—angling your head to take it deeper how he wanted it to be. your back arched against the wall as his hand on your lower back slid lower, palm running along the globe of your ass before it spread over the curve of your hip.
“ah—,” you gasped as he pressed forward. you felt the head line of his cock beneath his jeans against your stomach—he was just as wrecked as you were.
sunghoon broke the kiss only to drag his mouth along your jaw, teeth scraping at the sensitive spot under your ear before coming back to your lips, no less filthy than before—long and wet and deep that left you dizzy.
your pussy was growing crazily wet and warm—heat pooling your tummy as you began grinding and rubbing yourself on his knee.
“still wanna get that car fixed?” he whispered, teasing against your swollen mouth, lips brushing but not quite kissing.
you panted, looking up at him through half lidded eyes, before answering by pulling him back in, kissing him open–mouthed and desperate, fingers threading through his hair to keep him there. he groaned into you, low and raw, and kissed you back just as deep.
sunghoon’s hands roamed—down your sides, slipping into the loose fabric of his shirt on you—until he suddenly spun you around in a smooth motion—your palms hitting the kitchen counter with a slap.
“hngh—?” you gasped as he pressed in behind you, chest to your back, hips slotting against you. sunghoon didn’t stop kissing you—his strong… bigger hand came up to your jaw, fingers curled around your soft jaw as he turned your head sideways so he could claim your mouth from this new angle.
deep.. messy, relentless—the other hand splayed across your tummy, pulling you flush.
“fuck,” he murmured, grinding slow and deliberate against the curve of your ass through your shorts, the friction sending sparks down your cunt. a low rumble vibrated from his chest as he rolled his hips again, his hard on pressing hard between your asscheeks.
sunghoon’s lips broke from yours to drag wet kisses along your exposed side of your neck, teeth grazing the skin as he left angry lovebites before he turned your face toward him again, capturing your mouth in another horny kiss.
all while his hips kept that rhythm—rubbing against you, clothed but undeniably fucking horny. “you feel what you’re doin’ to me?”
you could only whimper in response, arching your back and pushing against him—eliciting a groan out him, deeper, his hips snapping forward—so fucking hard—before he slowed.
you pulled back to catch your breath, knees weakening as you braced yourself on your forearms. the words slipped out before you could stop them—half plea, half teasing.
“are you going to keep humpin’ me, or are you going to let me ride you, cowboy?”
the air went still for a beat.
the corner of his lips twitched—and so did his eye—sunghoon scoffed dryly. you barely had time to register the shift in his energy and demeanour before his palm cracked against your ass through the denim.
not gentle.
a firm, stinging smack echoed in the kitchen made you gasp, jolting forward against the corner.
“watch that mouth,” he hummed low against your ear, body still pinned, his hand caressing the globe of your ass where he’d just smacked them. “you don’t get to call the shots just yet.”
you breath hitched at the first rush of the sting, at the command of his voice. you bit your lip to keep another bratty remark to yourself—but failed to hide the way your hips rolled back against him.
he huffed before he moved—hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady, turning you just enough to guide you back against the counter before he sank down.
slowly.
until sunghoon was on his knees behind you, eye level with the curve of your ass, one palm smoothing over the spot he’d just smacked. “i’ll tell you what to do,” he murmured, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your jeans. he didn’t ask; just straight up unbuttoned them with a quick flick of his slender fingers and tugged everything down in one drag—
jeans and panties together—until they pooled at your knees.
“mmmh,” cool air hit your skin, but only for a second before his warm hands were back on your asscheeks, spreading them apart from behind. “hold still, pretty girl,” he muttered—and just like that—
his mouth was on your cunt.
no teasing and no hesitation—just confidence dripping down like your juices down your thighs. sunghoon licked a long, flat stripe up your centre, groaning low at the taste that he’d been starving for. “ungh—oh gosh,” you gasped, knees buckling on his face as you gripped the counter harder, shaky moans slipping out.
sunghoon’s tongue circled your clit from behind—once, twice—sucking the little pea in pressure that made your hips jerk back against his face. “fuckin’ hell, so sweet,” he rasped. his strong arm banded across your lower tummy, locking you in place—on his handsome face, sharp nose digging between your ass.
he didn’t let you move or shift as much as he slipped his tongue inside your cunt—sliding back up, in and out, flicking, and swirling around inside. “s—sunghoon, sunghoon,” you moaned softly, eyes fluttering.
wet sounds filled up his kitchen, filthy and so fucking obscenely loud—his mouth working you open, lips sealing like he’s making out with your pussy lips now before it moved around your clit again and again, sucking until your thighs trembled.
he sucked and tugged the pea towards him.
it’s something you’ve never, not in the years of your life, ever experienced. every time you tried to push back down for more, sunghoon only tightened his hold and slowed down like he’s telling you that you’re not in charge here.
then, he dragged his tongue in lazy, torturous strokes until you whined, before speeding up suddenly—fast with relentless flicks that had you gasping his name. “your tongue feels s’good, oh fuck,”
his free hand came up between your legs, two fingers sliding into you without warning, stretching you tight cunt and curling deep and stroking in time with his tongue. the combo wrecked you badly—your head dropped forward, forehead pressing to the cool counter as your toe curled inwards on itself.
“w—what—?! oh, fuck, sunghoon—”
he hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks in your tummy, and doubled down. “gotta stretch you out before i give you the real thing,” he murmured against your wet cunt, sucking hard, fingers thrusting faster, pressing on that spongy spot inside.
your legs shook as you began subtly riding on his two fingers as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. “‘m cumming, wanna cum, cum—,” you whined adorably, chest heaving as pleasure swelled up in your gut.
“mmhm—?” sunghoon hummed teasingly, you felt the corner of his lips twitched. you tightened around his fingers—walls spasming around his digits. sunghoon curled his fingers inside and traced his name against your walls.
he’s so fucking filthy, it’s disgustingly hot.
an ecstasy tidal wave quickly rushed over you—and before you knew it, your walls pulsated before you came right on his fingers and tongue, against his face. “oh fuck—!” you cried out sharply, curling your hands into fists as you hung your head low.
every limbs of yours felt like jelly, your body twitched—clenching around him as he licked you through every pulse, gulping down your juices and squirt that trailed down your inner thighs.
“fuck, you’re so sweet, so good,” he moaned, slowly pulling his fingers out that left you empty almost instantly, pussy squeezing the thin air. your thighs trembled in pleasure as sunghoon spread your asscheeks with his wet fingers, pressing one last slow, deliberate long lick from your sensitive clit up to your entrance.
“good girl,” he whispered, hands smoothed up your sides before rising behind you.
“now… about that ride you wanted…”
you turned in his arms, still buzzing, still twitching, legs unsteady. sunghoon’s eyes were swimming with lust, lips slick and swollen from you. the hard line of him pressed against your hip through his jeans—impossible to ignore.
a slow, wicked smile tugged at your mouth as you sank down now—your turn, mirroring the way he’d just knelt for you—until you were on your knees in front of him.
sunghoon’s breath hitched, hand automatically coming up to lift the brim of his hat to look at your face. you looked up at him from under your curled lashes, palms sliding up his thighs, feeling his cock tense and twitch under denim.
“fair’s fair, cowboy,”
he exhaled a rough laugh, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “you don’t have to—”
but you were already popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down slow enough to make him groan—preparing himself. “don’t have to what?” you asked innocently, tugging everything down just enough, and his—
his cock sprang free—thick, heavy, flicked dark and already leaking precum at the tip.
your eyes widened and your breath hitched, his cock throbbed right in front of your eyes—it casted shadow over your face. your lips parted, a gasp escaped your lips.
sunghoon was fucking big—no, huge—the biggest you’ve ever seen before.
you could tell it was painful for him from the way his cock twitched in neediness, a low hiss escaped from his lips. “shit… surprised?”
you wet your lips before swallowing the lump in your throat. there was… almost no way it’d fit in your mouth, much less your pussy. but you wrapped your hands around him—even with both hands, it still wasn’t enough to hold his whole cock—stroking once, twice, feeling him throb in your grip.
sunghoon’s head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed locked on you.
you continued jerking him off in your hands, dragging every skin, feeling every veins, milking more of his precum that trailed on the side of your hands. “i thought only horses have big cocks…” you murmured before leaning in—tongue flicking out to taste the bead at the head, salty and warm—before taking him into your mouth in one slow slide.
“but i guess their owners have too…?”
“fuck—” the curse tore out of him, low and husky, fingers tightening at your hair as his hat tipped to the side a little. he didn’t push, just holding as you took him in deeper, lips stretching around him.
you only managed to take half of his cock inside your mouth before pulling back almost all the way, tongue swirling around the tip, then took him again, deeper this time, cheeks hollowing. sunghoon tasted manly—sweaty, but not the nasty kind. just… a man.
his hips twitched, but he let you set the pace yourself. you worked him slow at first—wet, messy suckings, hand twisting in strokes at the base at the same time as your mouth—then faster, taking him in as far as you could until the tip hit your uvula, and your eyes watered.
“yn, fuck,” he groaned your name. your mouth was warm and wet, like entering a slimy, hot pond, cock totally engulfed in your saliva. it felt heavenly. you were disheveled and messy—but still so hot. glossy and smudged lipstick over your lips, leaving a pink ring mark around his cock with your flushed cheeks.
every time you pulled off to breathe, you looked up—watching his handsome face, thick brown furrowing, lips parted before his canines dragged the bottom lip, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fought not to thrust and fuck your mouth.
you hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his cock that made it twitch and he cursed again, “just like that,” he murmured.
you took him inside your mouth again, this time picking up your speed and pace in sucking him—the tip hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag and roll your eyes behind.
his veins glided along your wet tongue, sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut as wet, clicky sounds filled the space. sunghoon falls into his temptation and thrusts his hips upward, hitch in his breath as you deepthroat him.
“shit, ‘m cummin, fuck,”
his whole body went rigid, hips jerking shallowly before spilling hot down your throat, pulse after pulse. your eyes widened but didn’t pull away, taking it all. contrasting from how soft you hummed around him while he shuddered through it, curses and your name tumbling from his lips.
your throat worked in gulps as you swallowed his milk down, hands steadying his thighs. sunghoon sagged back against the counter, chest heaving as you eased off low—lips sliding along his cock until he slipped free with a pop.
a thin strand of cum and spit connected you before breaking.
“hah… hngh,” you looked up at him, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb before slipping it inside your mouth to lick it clean, a smug little smile tugging at your messy lips. sunghoon stared down at you, breathing ragged, furrowing.
“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he muttered, running his hand down his face before reaching down to haul you up by your arms until you were pressed against him, foreheads touching. “you’re g’nna kill me.”
then he kissed you—deep, filthy—combining both the taste of him and you on your tongue and groaning into it. his hands slid down to grip your thighs, turning and lifting you easily onto the counter.
“my turn again,” he murmured, hiking up your—his—shirt until it bunched at your waist. you were fully exposed to him from the hips down. “i ain’t stoppin’, so don’t tell me to.”
you only whimpered in response as sunghoon’s palm splayed across your lower stomach, holding you while the other hand wrapped around his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. the head of his cock scooped your slickness.
sunghoon teased you by slipping in just the head, stretching you and barely enough to evoke a soft gasp from your lips. from behind, he smirked at your reaction, looking down at how your slick hung down from his cock.
“easy now,” he muttered, hissing as finally pushed in slow. the stretch was immediate though, thick and burning in the best way possible. you gasped aloud, head falling forward, fingers clawing at the granite as he sank deeper—inch by inch—until he almost bottomed out with a low, guttural groan against your neck.
“oh my fuckin’ god, sunghoon,” you cried out, feeling him in your stomach. “shit, you’re perfect,” he rasped, pulling back almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, hard—burying all his inches inside you. the slap of skin echoed in the kitchen as your body jolted forward with the force, the hat you’re wearing tipped sideways.
he set a relentless, needy pace from the start—deep and punishing thrusts that had you moaning and crying with every slam, his hand on your stomach pressed down his bulging cock through your flesh, feeling the skin swelling.
his other hand gripped your hip, steadying you while his fingers dug hard enough to bruise, pulling you back to meet every roll of his hips. “so goddamn tight,” he hissed, teeth grazing your shoulder.
“takin’ me like you’re made for me.”
every thrust only dragged your walls, the head slamming and bullying that soft spot inside you, forming a wave of pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter until you’re left trembling against the counter. your breath hitched, babbling his name.
“more—more, more, more,” you whined. sunghoon didn’t let you up, his fingers moved down to work on your clit, rolling and rubbing his middle finger on that little pea as his hips snapped forward without mercy.
sunghoon’s so horny it’s fucking crazy—he fucked into you deep and hard, every thrust punching air from your lungs. sweat beaded along his neck, rolled down his collarbone; dark hair stuck to his forehead—barely leashed hunger.
he was always like this when he finally snapped—weeks, sometimes months, of nothing but endless ranch work and journey, early mornings, late nights, calloused hands busy with fences and horses and hay to even think about getting laid.
there’s almost no time for bars, patience for games (although he liked to indulge himself in dart games), just pure, pent up need stacking higher and higher.
so when you showed up—pretty, stranded, looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes, spilling lemonade down your shirt and ending up in his clothes and hat, space, hands…
a girl like you, soft and city–sweet and practically begging to be taught how the town works, walking straight into his world—he couldn’t have stopped if he tried. he didn’t want to stop.
a guttural sound tore out of him when you tightened, fingers rubbing your clit harder, pressing down. “fuck—take it,” he rasped. “take every fuckin’ inch,”
you gasped, blossoming with excitement and arousal. your pleasure spills out in trembling moans, breathy cries mixing with the echo of your skin slapping together. “fuck, fuck, it feels so good, hoonie,”
his eyes twitched before he delivered a smack against your asscheeck, the flesh jiggling before he quickly smoothed it down with his hand. “good,” he panted, clamping his teeth down on your shoulder. the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt reverberated through the kitchen.
“wanna cum, a—again, please,” you pleaded, lips parting as you hung your head down. his cock was able to delve deeper from this position of your leg on the countertop, spreading your thighs further. “hm—? cummin’ again already?” sunghoon chuckled softly, slamming and bucking his hips up that the tip slammed against your cervix.
you nodded eagerly, whimpering. you’re so overstimulated—couldn’t think straight at the way your pussy spasmed around his throbbing length. “please, please i wanna cum real bad,” you whined, pleading.
sunghoon dragged his nails and held your hips, his cock dragged against your velvety walls. “show me,” his words broke apart, the rhythm of his hips frantic and desperate. he wasn’t as close to cumming, and he wished to keep fucking you—but he supposed city girls didn’t have a lot of stamina.
“cum on my fuckin’ cock, baby,”
you cursed out loud as a gush of warm liquid squirted out and down on your thighs—and his cock totally engulfed him warm and wet. he was buried so deep inside you, not moving as much to allow you to steady yourself.
the orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami—overwhelmingly relentless. your vision whited out at the edges, walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, milking him, pulling him deeper like your body refused to let go.
heat bloomed low in your tummy and spread in shocks as your body twitched, slumping on the counter. “oh gosh—oh my gosh,” you whimpered, thighs trembling, breath sharp, desperate gasps.
“fuck—look at you,” sunghoon rasped, fingers digging into your hips as he thrust through your climax, chasing his own release in the tight, slick grip—still not pulling out. “soakin’ me like that…”
you felt vulnerable and claimed—there was no fucking way any other men can ever come close to this—sunghoon, his demeanour, his energy, his cock—ever again. not your boyfriend, not any boys anywhere.
the wet mess between your legs proof of how thoroughly he done fucked you up.
“hngh—ah, i…” your words trailed off as you panted, pussy twitching around his cock… you stayed like that for a long moment—bent over his counter, wearing his shirt, his hat—his chest heaving against your back.
sunghoon caressed the globe of your asscheek, spreading to see his wet cock and the way your squirt dripped down on his tiles. “you what?”
you shook your head, biting your bottom lip to stifle another whimper, then turned your head just enough to meet his gaze—eyes glassy, cheek adorably flushed, with that little bratty smile.
“i still haven’t ridden the cowboy…”
sunghoon’s eyes widened for a fraction before a grin spread across his face.
“oh darlin’,” he chuckled softly. “you’re takin’ the reins.”
——
“oh fuck—!”
the sound tore out of you, high and whimpery as sunghoon licked straight up between your pussy lips one long stroke. no teasing this time—just pure filth and hunger. his tongue plunged inside you, swirling and thrusting back and forth inside your cunt, lips sealing around to suck hard.
your hands flew to the wooden headboard for balance, gripping the wood, hips rocking instinctively against his handsome face. the tip of his nose brushed your clit every time you moved.
sunghoon groaned into you, the vibration going up your cunt. his hand held your hips from falling, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock, jerking off the taste of your cunt and the sound of your moans.
wet sounds filled this room now, his nose brushing your clit as he devoured you from below.
“hoonie—fuuuckkkk,” you whimpered, head falling back as you quickly held the hat on your head. sunghoon insisted—begged—you keep it on your head. said it’s fuckin’ hot, said you’re—
his.
sunghoon answered by clamping his teeth down on your flesh, not hard that it’s painful, but enough for you to feel the pressure and his canines. his one hand left your hip to reach up and palm your tits, thumb flicking the nipple while he sucked your clit relentless.
there’s no way you could last much longer. not like this—not with him eating and tongue–fucking you like a straved man.
and from the way his hips rolled up in his grip, cock leaking against his hand—he was loving every second of it.
“hoonie, here it is’, oh jesus,” your voice broke as you grind harder. the orgasm hit like a bungee—your whole body tensed as your thighs trembled and kept his head locked between you as you came hard down on his face.
a rush of warmth flooded out of you again, coating his mouth, chin, and sunghoon licked you clean, drinking your liquid down. your legs gave out completely and you sagged forward against the headboard, panting, shaking, the aftershocks rippling through you as he gentled his tongue in soothing licks to ease you.
slowly, sunghoon lifted you off him—guiding you down to straddle on his hips again. his face was slick with you, lips red and swollen, eyes dark and triumphant as he looked at you—hair a mess, tipped hat, chest heaving.
your nipples perked up.
“fuck,” he rasped, cupping your tits. “you taste even better the second time.”
you collapsed forward onto his chest, feeling his cock hard and hot against your stomach.
sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, one hand stroking your back, the other tangling in your hair. “ready to be a cowgirl, babe?” he murmured against your temple, hips rolling up once—his cock glided against your tummy. “or you need another minute?” he teased.
you whimpered and shook your head, already shifting your hips and straightening your spine. you placed your hands on his toned chest, biting your lip.
“no more minutes,” you murmured, flicking your thumbs over his nipples. “i want my cowboy now.”
he grinned, rolling his eyes playfully.
“then take him.”
you didn’t need to be told twice.
you sank down slowly at first—teasing the head along your folds, coating, moving your hips and drawing it out until his hands gripped your hips. silent warning to not tease him—he ain’t the strongest soldier here.
you giggled softly before taking him in one smooth drop, all the way to the hilt.
“ngh—!” the stretch burned perfectly, filling and stretching you up that you both groaned at the same time at the pleasure. your head tipped back slightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. sunghoon was thick, hot, throbbing inside and you felt every inch as you adjusted, walls fluttering around him.
you were pretty, tight, warm—wrapping around him nicely.
“fuck,” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut before he opened them again, watching the lewd expression on your face. “juuust like that… ride me, pretty cowgirl,”
you began—rolling your hips in deep, lazy circles, grinding down so he hit every spot inside on every pass. your hands braced on his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as you lifted yourself and sank back down.
like a cowgirl—sunghoon let you lead for a while; watching you through half lidded eyes, one hand slipping up to play with your tits, thumb teasing your nipple in the same breath as your movements. the other stayed on your hip, guiding but not controlling.
he lets you take what you want.
but that only lasted a while.
you started moving faster, riding, hoping (more like a bunny, than a cowgirl)—tits bouncing so lewdly, pitchy little ah, ah ah’s moans escaping your lips. the slap of skin got louder, his cock disappeared as quick as he saw it.
sunghoon couldn’t stay still anymore.
his hips snapped up to meet you halfway, driving deeper, harder, making your cries louder as pleasure spiked suddenly.
“that’s it,” his voice wrecked, sitting up suddenly so you were chest to chest, his hands on your hips as he lifted you up and down on his cock, pulling you down harder onto every thrust.
“fuckin’ ride me just like that—use me,”
you clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, moving together in a frantic rhythm. your sweat dripped down on his skin as his did too, sunghoon’s mouth found your neck where he sucked marks into your skin as you clenched tighter.
“hoonie, hoonie, so good, feels s’good,” you whimpered, holding his hat on your head with one hand, the other wrapped around his neck.
“come on,” he chuckled low and filthy against your throat, your head tipped back. one of his hands palmed your tits, pinching your perky bud. “keep ridin’ me like that. fuck—takin’ my cock so good. you’re made for this ranch—made for me,”
you nodded, his balls slapping the curve of your ass as you go—giggling—just mind fucked over his cock.
“love it, don’t cha?” he kept going with his filthy talks, breath hot against your skin. “love bouncin’ on a cowboy you just met, creamin’ all over him while your little guy’s waitin’ somewhere,” sunghoon hummed, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.
“bet he’s never fucked you this good—never made this pussy cream so many times in one evening.”
you moaned louder, clenching at his voice and words. he grinned against your neck, thrusting up harder to meet you.
“say it,” he rasped, rolling your nipple slow and mean between his fingerpads. “tell me how good you’re gettin’ it.”
“hoonie—” you whined, walls fluttering wildly.
“say it,” he coaxed, hands dropping to grip your ass, guiding you faster, deeper. “tell me whose cock you’re gonna be thinkin’ about from now on,”
you were too far gone to care—pleasure coiling tight and how low in your tummy. “yours,” you gasped, hat tilting crooked as you slammed down faster. “only yours—hoonie, fuck—only you, wanna be yours,”
sunghoon’s cock twitched. “that’s my girl,” he praised, voice dripping sin, hips snapping. “cream this cock again. milk me—let me feel that pretty pussy.”
and with his mouth on your collarbone, fingers twisting your nipple, his thick cock dragging your velvety walls—you came.
your whole body seized—back arching, a broken cry tearing from your throat. another rush of warmth flooded out of you, soaking where you joined, dripping down his length and onto his thighs. the fourth orgasm rolled through you, thighs shaking.
sunghoon groaned as well, holding you tight but he didn’t follow you over the edge—not yet. the night is still young, after all. his cock throbbed inside, impossibly harder, slick with release, but he gritted his teeth, letting you ride the aftershocks while he stayed buried.
“hngh—i—hah,” you slumped forward, panting against his chest, hat slipping sideways. sunghoon caught it and settled it back on your head. “came so pretty for me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“but i’m not done with you yet.”
he didn’t give you much time to recover before his arms hooked under your knees and he flipped you onto your back. the air left your lungs as your body bounced lightly on his mattress. “hm—?”
sunghoon folded you in half, knees pushed to your shoulders, hips tilted up—completely open, bare, exposed, and pinned beneath him in a deep, filthy—
mating press.
the hat finally tumbled off your head and onto the pillow. you barely noticed before sunghoon picked it up and wore it himself.
sunghoon loomed over you, dark hair falling into his eyes, cock still rock–hard and wet as he nudged back inside in a slow thrust. the new angle dragged him deeper than before—stretching you wide, pressing and making your eyes roll back from pleasure.
“fuck… look at ya,” he chuckled, hips rolling slow to let you feel every thick inch. “takin’ me so deep… pussy made for me, wasn’t it?”
you could only nod and whimper, looking up at him with doe, glassy eyes and swollen lips from clamping down. you looked so fucking feastible like this—body filled with his lovebites, nipples perky and red from pinching, your sweaty and glossy skin—
so perfect.
sunghoon only meant to help a poor stranded girl with her broke down car, he swore—but he supposed ending the day with a girl didn’t sound so bad.
he began moving—long, solid hard strokes that punched the air from your lungs each time he pulled up. the position left you no room to move, no escape from the overwhelming fullness, every thrust driving him against your g–spot.
sweat dripped down from his brow onto your chest—sunghoon crashed his lips against yours in open mouthed kisses with tongue involved. “tell me again,” he snapped his hips to draw a cry out of you. “who’s makin’ you feel this good?”
“you—hoonie, only you—,” the words slipped out rushly. sunghoon chuckled, the headboard knocked against the wall from the way your folded body rocked with every thrust, breasts bouncing. sunghoon gripped the backs of your thighs to keep you spread wide and pinned.
“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he rasped, eyes locked on where you joined—his cock disappeared inside you over and over. “everytime you close your eyes, you’re g’nna remember how deep i got, how hard i fucked you, how many times i made this tight pussy come.”
your heart thumped, tummy’s doing cartwheels at his words. “yes! please, please, please—’m cumming!” you gasped, back arching as you dragged your nails down his shoulders. sunghoon’s relentless thrusts hitting your soft spot without mercy.
the coil snapped again—you came with a cry of his name, walls clamping down around him in tight, waves, another nth gush of warmth soaking you both as you whole body shook helplessly in his hold.
“fuck,” sunghoon cursed filthy, fucking you turned erratic as he chased his own high. a few more deep, brutal strokes and burying himself to the hilt—sunghoon spilled inside of you, pulsing hot and endless streaks of semen, hips jerking through every wave.
he held your hips up, milking himself dry as your pussy spasmed around him, squeezing every last drop. “shit… shit…” he panted, staying pressed for a long moment as he lazily thrusted his cum inside.
both of you panted, trembling, sweat slick, and spent. your body twitched in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you catch your breath. slowly, carefully, sunghoon eased your legs down, letting them fall open around his hips as he pulled his cock out.
cum dribbled down your puffy, swollen cunt, messy—sliding down your folds and onto his sheets beneath you. more followed as your body slumped down.
sunghoon’s gaze dropped between your legs before back on your face—his hand gently stroking your thigh like he couldn’t stop touching you. his cowboy hat tilted crookedly on his head, casting a shadow over his eyes as he fixed it.
you whimpered—too sensitive and overstimulated—but didn’t pry him off when he pushed his cum lazily inside just to watch you shiver. finally, sunghoon leaned down, lips brushing to exhaustedly kiss you—your lips, cheeks, and temple.
“you okay, darlin’?” he murmured, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest as he rolled to the side. sunghoon tucked you against him, tangling your legs together.
you nodded into his neck, fingers tracing idly. “more than okay.” you murmured, “never been better.” sunghoon huffed a hum, kissing the top of your head.
“good,” he said simply, voice low in the dim room. “‘cause car’s definitely ain’t gettin’ fixed anytime soon,” he murmured, pulling the blanket to cover the two of you. “means ‘m keepin’ you here till mornin’. maybe longer.”
the last of the daylight had faded into deep twilight.
oh well—
your… ex boyfriend waiting somewhere could sit tight and wonder all he wanted; his plans had been bucked off the trail the moment the real cowboy rode in.
this filly had found her herd, and she wasn’t wandering back to any old pasture soon.
you supposed some breakdowns are just detours to exactly where you’re meant to end up.
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ♡໒꒱.°⑅ @yenienha @hoonsocks @imnotyizhuo @nesquikluvr @hhoneyhan @jjongsies @s3ouln1 @hiddencavernsun @stellargolden @astelunar @somuchdard @eirlyscloud @slu33yblushlace @solonenova @jinsuus <3
holy mother of god
caleb keeps two polaroids behind his id. just two. not because you haven’t given him more, but because these are the ones he needs with him—these are the ones he touches when his hands are in his pockets and he’s thinking about you.
the first one is harmless. your lips are red from cherry syrup, tongue poked out to catch the corner of your milkshake straw, and you’re squinting at the camera like you’re trying not to smile too hard. he remembers taking it—outside that tiny drive-in spot you’d begged to stop at on the way home from a weekend trip. your shoes are kicked off in the background, your sunglasses askew. he says he loves it because you look happy, but really it’s because you look like his. completely his.
the second one sits right behind it. hidden from view. it’s not as innocent—though you’re still smiling in it, sweet and a little dazed. you’re on your back, head tilted to the side, chest bare, thighs parted around his hips as he holds your knee up with one hand and snaps the photo with the other.
your panties are tugged to the side, thin lace stretched tight across your inner thigh, just barely hiding the fact that he’s already inside you. your arms are flung over your head, back arched, mouth parted around a gasp. he can still hear the sound you made when the flash went off.
he doesn’t show that one to anyone. never would. but sometimes, when he’s far from you, when the days are long and the hotel sheets feel too cold, he pulls it out just to press his thumb to the curve of your leg. just to remember how you looked when you gave yourself to him completely. he tells himself it’s just for the memory. but then his fingers drift a little lower. and the ache in his chest spreads to the rest of him.
he should probably take it out of his wallet. he won’t. he never will.
man i love caleb down
⋆🐾⋆LEOPARD'S DEN
snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader
SERIES SYNOPSIS: in a bustling city where hybrids live in coexistence, you, a timid bunny hybrid desperate to escape your family’s suffocating expectations, takes a leap into independence. but when you answer a craigslist ad for a roommate, you find yourself sharing a cramped apartment with satoru gojo — a dazzling, dangerous snow leopard hybrid with a smile as lethal as his claws. bound by necessity, yet tangled in instinct, your uneasy coexistence quickly spirals into a simmering dance of predator and prey — where every glance, every accidental touch, and every late-night silence threatens to shatter the fragile walls between friendship and something far, far more primal.
cw: hybrid setting, predator/prey dynamics, mild to moderate violence, fearplay, dubcon, breeding kink, possessiveness, obsessive behavior, heat / rut cycles, tba
00. pilot
01. chapter one
01.5. minisode 01
02. chapter two
02.5. minisode 02
03. chapter three
04. chapter four
05. chapter five
06. chapter six
06.5. minisode 03
FIREEEE
⭑ FRIENDS TO WORRY ABOUT park sunghoon & park jongseong
heeseung hasn't been the best boyfriend, and the further apart you two grow, the closer you get to his best friends. all you need is for him to slip up one last time to finally make your fantasies come true.
starring ⋆ bf's besties!jayhoon x reader
this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. cheating, threesome, a little mxm never hurt anybody, double penetration, exhibitionism, hee is a bitch but so is everyone else lowkey, so much spit, praise, bondage, creampies, multiple orgasms, overstim, squirting, cum eating and cum play. quick oral f!rec, fingering.
length ⋆ one shot ⸻ 7.3k words
✷ NIA if this stops making sense at times. yeh. makes sense. not proof read ofc😁 if this sounds familiar it's bc it's a rewrite of a veryyyy old fic on my old blog :3
You'd knocked on Jay and Sunghoon's apartment door late at night—or way too early in the morning, depending on who you ask—fully expecting to be met with silence on the other side.
You had an habit of chickening out of shit, whether it meant going through with asking for a well deserved promotion at your job during negotiations, or asking that one friend you haven't seen in months to maybe go get coffee at the new spot down the block. Or, well, the worst of them all, sticking around Heeseung when you both knew he was no good for you. So it's not surprising that you found the courage to go up to the boys with nothing in your way, and still chose to not ring the doorbell, make yourself as small as possible on the 'oh no, not you again' doormat, feet shuffling with the itch to turn your back and pretend nothing happened.
Heeseung cheating didn't exactly come as a shock to you. All your life you thought your boyfriend breaking your trust in the worst possible way would've completely destroyed you, but the truth is that what you were feeling in that moment was anything but.
It didn't feel good, of course. But in the back of your mind you'd long given up on him and his pitiful attempts to 'make things right', just to fuck up once again. It was small things at first, like forgetting things you'd told him, getting your preferences mixed up, canceling on a date because work got too tiring for him. Not nice, but understandable enough, you'd told yourself it was the honeymoon phase fading away, and you just needed to find that spark again.
Except it became clear that Heeseung had no interest in taking that journey with you, but still wouldn't let you go completely. The months you laid awake, waiting for him to show up with an explanation that would have it all make sense. The missed dates, the unanswered calls, the empty apologies and promises of being better the next time around if you just gave him one more chance to make it right. You saw the signs, pretended not to. Thought he'd spare your feelings if you acted just a little less clingy, a little less needy. A little more like the woman Heeseung loves is supposed to act.
All throughout it, your—his—best friends were there for you. Jay's sweet words of comfort, promising you you're just the absolute prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on, and Heeseung is so stupid if he doesn't see it. Respectful advice turned to praise whispered hotly against your neck when you really just needed a hug. Sunghoon's soothing touch which washed all of your worries away lingering more and more as time went on and your boyfriend kept disappointing you. From a warm hand on your shoulder to a firm grip on your thigh, way too close to the hem of your skirt for it to be a coincidence. Both things you could've stopped but really never wished to. Because if Heeseung couldn't be respectful of your relationship, why should you?
Maybe that's why finding out didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. You'd been ready to let go for a while, you just needed an out.
Deep down you knew that was the case when the meetings with your friends became longer and longer, and even if no physical boundaries were crossed, you'd leave whatever place agreed upon with dry tears on your face but panties soaked through like Heeseung never managed to get. Jay's deep and rough tone, Sunghoon's thumb sweetly caressing your skin were just enough, and soon a simple text by one of them had your heart thumping in your chest louder than it would when seeing your boyfriend after days of radio silence. That's why they were the first people you ran to when you found out.
Just as you are about to leave, the creaking sound of the door swinging open and the Jay's surprised hum stop you in your tracks. He looks at you with wide eyes, hair disheveled and pants barely pulled up as if he put them on while rushing to the door, and yet, as gorgeous as ever.
"You left the door unlocked again," you say, unsure, something you have never been in his presence, shifting your weight from one foot to the other like it might ease what you're feeling within you.
Jay breaks into a blinding smile, his usually sharp eyes turning into little moons of delight. He makes space for you to walk inside the tiny apartment he's been sharing with Sunghoon ever since they started college. "You can just walk in," he says, looking at you fondly while you toy with the zipper of your hoodie. "You know you're always welcome."
"It's gonna be someone with not so pure intentions walking in unannounced one day if you guys keep not locking your door."
"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, gorgeous." Sunghoon walks into the living room, sweatpants dangerously low on his hips and no shirt on at all, taking a big swing out of the huge water bottle that somehow looks normally sized in his hands. "Why not ring the doorbell, we could have not heard you." He turns around to look at the digital clock next to the tv. "It is almost 4 am after all."
"I know and I'm sorry for bothering—" you panic at the mention of the time, suddenly aware of how annoying it must be to have anyone show up unannounced when everyone is supposed to be asleep. "I just—"
"You're never a bother, I'm more worried about missing one of your visits someday," Sunghoon says, lifting your chin up with his bottle, giving you a lazy grin when he notices how your eyes trail up from the sparse hair leading down his v-line to his chiseled torso, until you meet his eyes. His scent is musky, clean but thick and intoxicating, and any sensible explanation you had drafted in your mind as you drove to their place seems lost when the other man steps closer too.
Like always, Jay knows you like the back of his hand, and just by the way you're trying to make yourself smaller on their couch, he knows something is up. "Is anything wrong, pretty?"
Seeing the look in your eyes, Sunghoon adds, "Maybe Heeseung's fault?"
You look at both of them, eyes big and your heart pounding so hard in your chest it might be trying to escape. "I need you guys to help me with something."
"Anything, really." Jay's hand finds your thigh, soothing and grounding like nothing else in the world. "Isn't that what friends are for?"
The initial plan was to post a few suggestive stories on your close friends, just enough to piss Heeseung off, because despite it all, you knew he still considered you his. You knew he held a deep conviction that eventually you'd get over it and run back to him. And you couldn't lie, you'd given him enough proof of that time and time again, but you were done for good this time, and you needed a way to really fucking show him.
Pictures taken while kissing, half naked on Sunghoon's king sized bed, others of both of them sucking spots on your neck at the same time, the prettiest bra you owned—one that Heeseung bought you when he still hadn't revealed himself to be a bitch—peeking at the bottom of the screen like joke, Jay's thick fingers covering one of your tits in some of the them and Sunghoon's bite marks on your shoulder in others. All of it ended up getting steamier than you'd expected (but deep down hoped for), and suddenly you where sprawled between crumpled white sheets, mind all fuzzy from the egregious amount of times you already came on either of their faces or fingers, one's features blurring into the other when your eyes started watering so much, everything around you became blurry and undistinguishable.
Your phone is discarded somewhere at the edge of the bed, the pictures long forgotten, and the only reason you know it's Jay with his chest to your back, is because he's whispering sweet nothings right into your ear in the hottest voice you've ever heard from him. You've always found his tone in any other context to be panty soaking, but nothing could've prepared you for how sexy he sounds whispering against your skin while his hands wipe away any tear that slips out of your eyes. "You're all good now, doll. You're doing so fucking well for us, being so brave and strong."
Sunghoon hums in agreement from his spot, one knee on the edge of the bed as he reaches to spread your legs wider to make room for him, but his attention is caught by the sudden wave of vibrating notifications coming from your phone.
"It's Heeseung," he says it like an insult, venom dripping from his mouth.
Your body instantly stiffens at the mention of the name, but Jay is quick to nuzzle his head into your neck and caress your hip with his hand. You watch Sunghoon tap around until the familiar beeping sound of a call reverberates through the room, and you grab Jay's shoulder behind you, heart beating out of your chest.
“He can’t hurt you anymore, you're safe now,” he whispers before taking the shell of your ear in his mouth and biting down on it gently, eliciting an almost inaudible sigh from you.
“Hee, you need something?” Sunghoon's tone is impassive as he kneels again right in front of you, the soft mattress dipping underneath his weight. He puts the call on speaker, allowing you and Jay to also hear the man on the other side of the line.
“What the fuck? Where the fuck is she?” Heeseung’s voice is shaky with anger, and you can clearly spot the presence of a bitter edge in his tone. It might make you think he actually cares for a second or two, except you’re not naive enough to indulge in that fantasy anymore. Not after what he did.
Still, your heart aches for him when you hear his smooth tone through the speaker, a voice you used to love and find safe.
Hoon fixes his gaze on you before replying to Heeseung’s question, “Yes, she’s here right now.” Your eyes widen at his answer. You expected him to deny knowing your whereabouts, end the call and come back to pick up right from where he left off.
“I have to talk to her. Just a few minutes.”
Jay holds you tighter against his broad chest, the muscles of his arms tensing around you when he feels you try to move out of his grasp, stopping you from scooting closer to Sunghoon. “That’s her decision to make.”
Sunghoon mutes the call, looking at you expectantly as he waits for you to think your choices through. You have an idea of what the boys might be thinking, and while you’re not completely opposed to the idea, a pang of guilt courses through you at the idea of Heeseung finding out about you fucking your best friends. They’re his too after all.
But you also know he deserves this, he deserves to know how good what he considers to be his lifelong brothers are fucking you. He deserves to feel at least a tenth of what he's put you through this entire time, and if not because you're getting fucked by someone else, then at least he can feel the betrayal of it being Jay and Sunghoon.
As if on cue, they both sense your inner turmoil, and you relax against Jay as the other man dips his head down to press kisses on your lower abdomen and grab the back of your thighs, caressing them slowly.
“Relax, doll,” Jay whispers, lips brushing against your ear and nose nudging the strands of hair next to it.
“Hoon,” you moan quietly. “Want to make him regret everything he ever did to me.”
The man in question grins at you proudly, all of his teeth showing, and you think about how rare of a sight that is. “I’ve got an idea then. But you need to trust us.” He waits for you to nod, and then continues. “You okay with being watched?”
Your breath hitches in your throat at the lewd suggestion, yet the familiar stab of need in your lower region is enough to help you make up your mind completely. You nod again, this time firmly, as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Gonna need to hear you say it,” Jay says.
“Want him to watch you two fuck me." Jay's length seems to get impossibly harder underneath you, the press of it on your bottom half the reason you even agreed in the first place. Everything about his touch is intoxicating. "Please.”
"So? Where the fuck is she? Sunghoon this is not a fucking joke. I need to hear her."
"Oh, you'll hear her alright." Sunghoon settles between your legs with the phone still in his hand, and brings it right next to your pussy. Jay reads his mind, the connection between them that you'd always felt was more than just best friends synchronizing their actions and thoughts without even the need to voice any of them out loud, and runs his hand down to the soaking mess between your thighs, his fingers parting your folds slowly as if to make it as noisy as possible.
Heeseung is quiet for a while, but that doesn't stop Jay from slipping his fingers deeper inside of you, slowly working you open once again, aided by all the stickiness of your slick frothing with every thrust of his hand. The sound is unmistakable, and if that wasn't enough, Sunghoon's lip smack on your inner thigh way louder than they should, playing it up for the audience on the other end. "What the fuck?"
"Her pussy is so creamy, Hee. Why have you been keeping it from us?" Sunghoon's ghost of a smile makes your legs twitch around his head. "Or maybe, it only gets like this for me and Jay?"
"You son of a fucking—" He gets cut short as Sunghoon ends the call. He gets up from the bed, walking to the windowsill right in front of it, and sets his phone there, propped up carefully. He hits the video call button, and Heeseung accepts it pathetically fast.
"You two are dead meat when I get my hands on you." Heeseung spits, but Sunghoon turns his back to the phone and rolls his eyes as he makes his way back to the bed, allowing Heeseung to get the perfect view of your naked form spread over Jay's, his hand still lazily playing with your pussy and your hand in his hair.
"Hot, right?" Sunghoon laughs, poking the bear once again.
Heeseung goes silent again for a while, and part of you would pay good money to see his face, but the other cares more about having Sunghoon back between your legs, and Jay's cock inside you as soon as possible.
You think of your boyfriend, floored by the scene in front of him. Pride swelling in your chest knowing his world is slowly crumbling down beneath his feet, and there's nothing he can do about it, no one to turn to because all the people he loves are in the room with you.
On the other side, Heeseung is sat at his desk in the darkness of his room, wondering how the fuck this is happening to him of all people. He wants to end the call and drive to his friends' apartment, knock the door down and beat the living shit out of them, but he can do nothing other than staying frozen in his place, thinking about what the hell is wrong with him for finding the scene playing on his phone screen as hot as he does. You have never looked better, with Jay's thick hands all over your body and pussy dripping onto bedsheets that aren't his.
Before Heeseung can even begin to recover from the shock he’s experiencing, Sunghoon gently reaches for your chin—fingers warm and delicate on your skin—and angles your face towards his, soft eyes holding your gaze reassuringly. He leans down to capture your lips in a delicate kiss, the tenderness of it during such a lewd moment surprising you. His lips are soft and pillowy, and the faintest ghost of his stubble tickles your chin when he angles his head to kiss you deeper. You yelp when he unexpectedly bites your lip, and he takes the chance to slide his tongue in your mouth, savoring your sweet taste. One of his hands cups your face while the other travels down your body, groping any inch of flesh he can reach, the contrast between the slow movements of his tongue and the roughness of his touch leaving you dizzy, putty in his hands. He draws back for a moment, smiling when he notices your mouth chase after his lips, “I think Jay might be feeling a little left out.”
You look over your shoulder to the other man, teeth caging your bottom lip when you find him already smiling in that sickly sweet way of his.
"Hi there, pretty." Jay teases, playful but tender. "Forgot about me?"
You shake your head, a smile of your own spreading on your face, angling yourself better so he can kiss you too. It's slow but intense, lips moving against the other with no rush at all, the only focus on savoring the taste shared between you two. He pecks your bottom lip time and time again, then runs his tongue on it in a silent ask of permission, and when you part your lips so obediently for him, Jay can't help but whisper a 'good girl' before licking away at your mouth.
Sunghoon puts himself to good use while you and Jay enjoy yourselves, grabbing the base of the other man's cock and pumping a few times, making him moan lowly in your mouth. He makes it a point to move to the side, making sure Heeseung gets a full view of him slapping Jay's cock on your entrance multiple times, ripping out little whines from you while the man hisses at the feeling of Sunghoon’s touch, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Sunghoon brings his hand to your mouth and you immediately let some of your spit dribble down in his palm, so he can use the wetness to jerk off Jay a few times, the latter letting a guttural moan from his throat as he throws his head back and pushes his hips against Sunghoon’s hand.
The hot sensation in your stomach feels unbearable as you watch the scene in front of you unfold, you open your mouth to try to get the men’s attention on you again but you’re cut off by Sunghoon positioning Jay’s thick cock against your hole once again as he pushes it inside slightly, enough to have you whimper and wiggle your hips for more. Sunghoon huffs out a laugh at how sensitive and needy you are despite all the times you've come already, but taps your clit a few times with his index as Jay finishes pushing into you completely.
You and Jay moan into each other's mouth at the feeling of his cock splitting you open. He's thick, thicker than you have ever had, and the stretch despite how much they prepped you before this is absolutely mouth watering. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust on him, moulding your insides with his thickness like you were made to broken in by him.
You’re so into the moment you don’t notice Sunghoon sneaking down, and suddenly you feel something wet inside you other than Jay’s cock.
You make the mistake of looking down, only to find the sinful image of Sunghoon’s tongue pushing inside your cunt as he grabs the other man’s balls with his hands, slowly massaging them.
Your moans get even louder, and Sunghoon giggles against your sensitive cunt. He takes a load of wetness gushing right in his mouth and comes up from between your legs to harshly grab your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss, releasing the mix in his mouth into yours.
"Feels good, yeah?" Sunghoon says once he parts from you, giving you a quick peck on your cheek before sliding his tongue back in your mouth to lap up all your sounds as Jay starts thrusting into you gently. "You look so pretty like this, doll. Stuffed full of Jay's cock, you're gonna look even better stuffed with both of you. You want that, right?"
You nod desperately, slick from your earlier highs running down your thigh and coating Jay's balls. His thrusts are slow and shallow, teasing you to the point it's unbearable. You need more, so much more, so you grab one of his hands resting on your waist, and bring it down to your clit, silently pleading him. He clicks his tongue but complies, rough thumb drawing tight circles on your clit.
Sunghoon's kiss is messy and wet, his own lust peeking through his composure. A mixture of your spit and his dribbles down your chin until he licks it up again, just to push it into your mouth. "Messy baby," he says against your lips, and it has your cunt clenching around Jay so hard, you almost push him out. He pushes two of his fingers inside you, right next to Jay's cock, and the stretch has you pulling back to gasp in surprise, a string of saliva between your lips, your airy moans filling the room.
Both Sunghoon's fingers and Jay's length drag slowly against your tight walls, the added girth stretching you out so deliciously, you almost get addicted to the sting. It hurts, but it hurts so fucking good, you don't even care. They work you up to another orgasm, and when they feel you start to clench around them harder, your body incapable of staying still on Jay's chest because you feel so good you don't know what to do with yourself, they speed their movements up to anticipate your high.
Jay's mouth finds your earlobe, and he speaks in between gentle bites. "Let go, baby. Show Heeseung how good you look when you cum hard from our touch. He never makes you feel like this, yeah? He can never make you cum like this."
And you do, your breaths get even more ragged as you come around them like your sanity depends on it, eyes shut closed and hands flailing to grab any mass of muscle they can, not caring whether it's one man or the other. You just need something to anchor yourself to not slip away into your pleasure, but they make it so hard, because your orgasm doesn't stop them at all. It spurs them further.
Sunghoon's fingers leave you momentarily while Jay keeps fucking you through your high, and he brings them to Jay's mouth, giving him a taste of your come. You open your eyes when you miss the extra stretch they provided inside you, but the sight of the man behind you lap away at fingers covered in your juices like he's having the sweetest meal he ever has, is enough to tie your stomach in all kind of knots only these two are able to unwrap. Your head is tilted, rested on Jay's shoulders as you watch him mesmerized, and when he opens his eyes again to look at you as he keeps sucking on Sunghoon's fingers, you see the glint that passes through them a second too slow to go unnoticed. He hums at the taste, makes a show out of it until the fingers are squeaky clean, and by the look on his face when he lets go of them, you know he knows exactly what that did to you.
He turns to Sunghoon for a moment, and then wordlessly slips out of you with a grunt, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Sounds of protest start to bubble in your throat but Jay’s hand harshly grabs your face, his lips smashing with yours to shut you up. “Patience, sweet thing.”
He maneuvers your body so this time your side is facing the phone you had forgotten about once you thought Heeseung had ended the call, which is actually, very much still on. Now that you’re aware of it again, you can make out faint squelching sounds coming from it, and your mouth hangs open at the realization that Lee Heeseung is fucking his fist to the little show you guys have been putting on for him.
Just when you thought he couldn't get any more pathetic.
You want to think you feel utterly insulted by this new information, but all you can find within yourself is deep satisfaction. You’re ecstatic at the thought of how humiliating this must be for him, how pathetic he must feel. You’re itching to make him feel even worse about his situation, so you muster up the most distressed look you can manage and crawl towards Sunghoon.
“Please, Hoonie," you sweet talk your way to him, amping up the shrill in your voice a little. "Want both of you to stuff me full right now, Heeseung has never made me feel this good.” You even wiggle your hips for the camera pointed at you. But doubt creeps up your spine when you're met with a wall.
“You’re putting on a show for Heeseung?”
Your head shoots up to meet his gaze as soon as you hear his mocking tone, a slight arch on one of his eyebrows while he stares at you, clearly amused by your attempt.
“Huh, no I-” you don’t manage to finish your sentence, because Jay interrupts you by grabbing your hips and positioning your body over his, your breasts pushed against his chest this time. His voice is sultry, warm breath fanning over your ear and sending tingles down your spine, “Begging to get fucked like this just to make Heeseung jealous? Isn't this a little shameless?”
The air gets thicker when you realized you made the wrong move, but instead of putting you off, the undertone of danger sends a thrill down your spine.
Sunghoon swiftly unbuckles his belt behind you, the metal clang loud in your ears. “We’ve been so nice to you, and this is how you repay us?”
“I don’t understand—” you feign ignorance, but Jay interrupts you once again, this time his rough hand clasps around your throat and squeezes lightly, just enough to replace your words with a hoarse gasp. He brings you closer to his face, warm breath tickling your own as he speaks, loud enough for you but definitely not for Heeseung to hear. “You’re still thinking about that bastard, acting like this is for him, that’s what the problem is. Is it clear enough now?”
You struggle to nod in his grasp, prompting him to apply more pressure on your throat.
“Words.”
“I understand.” you barely manage to choke out, voice raw from being suppressed, even if for such a short amount of time.
He releases your throat, leaving you gasping for air. Sunghoon barely gives any time to recover, and you feel him take hold of your wrists, just one of his hands big enough to keep them in place. He looks at you for a moment and leans his chin towards the discarded belt on the bed before speaking, “Is this okay with you?”
You’re about to nod but remember their insistence on using words, so you opt for a shy “yes” instead. Jay chuckles, fondly brushing his knuckles on your cheekbones. “You were so eager to put on a show just seconds ago. What happened, baby?”
The smooth leather of Sunghoon’s belt is secured tightly around your wrists, bounding them together, but you don't get to pay too much attention to the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of your arms bent back because Jay slides his cock between your soaked folds, collecting some of the wetness on his tip before slipping it in once again, hissing at the sensation of your warm walls welcoming him. “Still so tight, how are you gonna fit both of us, huh?” His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass, pushing you up and down on his cock. You take the hint and start moving, back arching and hands placed on his chest as leverage to help you ride him.
The space behind you is suddenly empty as Sunghoon stands up and walks towards the windowsill to grab the phone that’s balanced on it. He addresses Heeseung, “Still here? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Nasty freak.” The smile that takes over his features is almost devilish, not his usual flirtatious grin. “Gonna give you an even better view, one you won’t ever forget.”
Sunghoon points the camera towards you, slipping behind you and giving Heeseung a clear view of you riding Jay. He stills your hips with his other hand for a few seconds before bringing it to Jay’s mouth and signaling to spit on it. He brings his hand back to his cock smears the wetness all over it, fisting himself a few times before aligning it on your entrance, finally pushing in next to Jay.
They both stay still for a moment, loud moans filling the space, savoring the way their cocks fit snugly together inside you, how tight you are around them. You try your best to adjust to their combined girths, the stretch almost unbearable for the first few seconds.
Jay throws his head back against the headboard of the bed and lets out a long drawn out moan. His hand is resting on your waist, and the warmness of it helps you ground yourself. Sunghoon grabs your bound wrists and pushes your front to lay against Jay’s fully, giving himself and Heeseung a perfect view of your overly stretched hole as the man under you starts to thrust up into you.
Heeseung thinks he must have gone insane when he has to physically stifle a moan at the sight of Sunghoon’s hips slowly starting to move, cock dragging next to Jay’s. He feels betrayed, not by you but by them. He wonders how long they have been waiting to stick their weeping cocks inside you, how long they’ve eyed you like prey without him ever noticing, how many nights they must’ve spent fucking their fists thinking about you while he pounded you sweet little cunt. Oh, how the tables turned.
He wants to call them fucking perverts for this, but he’s not in a position to judge anyone. Not when he’s getting off to the sight of your cunt getting stuffed by them. He might be even worse.
The sight on his phone is already lewd, but your cries of pleasure make it so much worse. Never have you sounded like that for him. You’re so fucking wet for them Sunghoon almost accidentally slides out a few times. Heeseung imagines how snug it must feel, how hard you must be clamping around them, and he clenches his fist tighter to mimic the feeling, Adam's apple bobbing as your moans get louder. He wants to be the one fucking you right now so bad, this time he can’t stop one of his own pitiful sobs from escaping.
You’re visibly caught off guard by the sounds he’s making, and when you turn your head back to the camera, Heeseung can’t help but cum without any warning. Angelic eyes so big and glassy, the stark contrast to the sight of your hole getting pounded making him lightheaded. He keeps stroking himself, riding out his orgasm as pathetic whines fall from his lips and thick spurts of hot cum cover his hand, even more shame setting in.
Sunghoon catches you trying to sneak glances at his phone and feels an ugly, sick irritation bubble up in his chest. Why are you still thinking about him?
He yanks you up from the belt, your back colliding with his sweaty, chiseled chest, a surprised yelp leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His mouth is right next to your ear as he whispers huskily, “Your attention is elsewhere. Are we not fucking you good enough, mh? Still thinking about that little bitch?”
He drops the phone somewhere on the bed, denying Heeseung of your sight and leaving him with only the sounds and his imagination. The hand that was holding the device teasingly wraps around your throat, his hands are softer than Jay’s and so is his hold, but the mere presence of it makes your stomach flip. “We’ll fuck you so dumb you can barely think at all, let alone pay attention to Heeseung.”
Jay speeds up his pace with no warning, feet planted on the bed and hips slightly lifted to give himself room to match your movements. Sunghoon’s are still slow and sensual, the stretch now way more comfortable and only adding to your pleasure, and you gradually lose yourself in the sensations the two men are providing you, any thought of the red haired man that made your life a living nightmare for months completely out of the window.
“Has anyone ever fucked you this good, pretty girl?” Jay asks, even though he knows the answer to that and just wants to hear you say it. In fact, it’s all you can think about at the moment. How no one has ever fucked you this good, how they’re ruining sex with anyone else for you, how everytime you’re needy you’re just gonna have to go back to them and beg them to do anything to make you cum. How trying to find anyone else to satisfy you after this will be utterly useless.
You eagerly shake your head, eyes closing when you struggle to form coherent words against their onslaught on your poor squelching hole, stretched beyond what you can take, “Fuck—No one ever.”
Jay chuckles and you feel the vibrations on the skin of your cheek, his lips brushing against it while Sunghoon coos at your enthusiasm. “Is that so, pretty thing. Mhh." His hips stutter for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. "Not even our Heeseung?”
You’re quick to answer. “No, never. No one has.'' You hiccup, the noises coming from your bodies so loud they almost drown out the back and forth happening. They're nasty, so wet and sticky you'd be mortified if you weren't literally horny out of your mind. "So fucking good, your cocks are so good."
This seems to only spur the men further, Jay’s thrusts are somehow faster and Sunghoon’s more precise and deep. The latter grabs your bounded wrists and uses them as leverage to slide you over their cocks, the slick mess between your legs coating their thighs too, and leaves you no room for movement. All you can do is just sit there prettily for them and take it, your mouth falling open and eyes rolling to the back of your head as they use your body to get all three of you off.
“Your cunt was made for our cocks,” Jay grunts in your ear, one of his hands leaving your hips to grab your chin. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”
You helplessly clench around them even harder at his words, so snug they can barely move, deep grunts and moans filling the air, the smell of sex intoxicating and hot, humid and clinging to your sweaty and slippery bodies like dew.
You keep milking them, clenching around them like you're trying to suck them in impossibly deeper, like they're not already so deep inside you you feel full all the way to your guts. You're so close, so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue, so close the only words leaving your bitten raw lips are exactly that. "Close, I'm so close. Please Jay, Hoon, ngh." You gasp, trying your best to fuck yourself on their cocks even when they give you no room for movement, but you're greedy like that, and they love every filthy second of it.
"Let go, baby. We got you, let go for us."
You hear the words like they're muffled, too overtaken with pleasure to know who spoke them at all, and your front collapses on Jay’s chest as you come undone in gushes of liquid around them, your vision blinded and hearing muffled for a few seconds from the sheer strength of your bliss. Sunghoon is still holding your bottom up, the slaps of his pelvis against your jiggly ass losing precision and becoming rougher and messier, matching Jay’s erratic ones. You still haven’t come down from your high when you feel Sunghoon’s fingers trace circles on your puffy clit, earning whines of protests from you that are immediately swallowed by Jay’s mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip sensually. “Just a little more, you’re doing so good, angel.”
They keep fucking you like that, through tears Jay licks away, and shakes of your body that would have anyone else take pity on you, until your legs give out underneath the pleasure and your hands don't know where to steady themselves. You hit Jay's chest with your palm a few times as the coil in your stomach builds once more, the pain of overstimulation so addicting you greedily want more and more.
"Please, come too.” You sniffle pathetically as more tears form on your lashes. Sobs leave your chest as you gush around for them a second time, your breath knocked out of your chest by the intensity of it and your vision blurring into dark spots. Every single part of your body tingles as your come makes a mess on both of their thighs. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and your gasps for air are proof of it.
"You're so hot," Jay moans, his hips coming to a full stop as he fills you up to the brim with all he has to give, thick spurts of cum coating your insides and Sunghoon's cock.
Sunghoon's mouth hangs open as he feels both of your slick push against his throbbing length, his own release washing over him and stuffing you until a white creamy ring forms at the base of their cocks, gushing out of your cunt in thick ropes.
You're still trying to catch your breath when Sunghoon thrusts into you a few times, fucking you some more just to see more of the pearly white mixture drip out of you, until Jay taps his hips a few time because his sore cock can't take any more stimulation, and you look like you're about to pass out any second.
A mewl leaves your lips when they carefully slid out of you, the emptiness so sudden you found yourself missing the way they filled you completely right away. You're so spent you can barely move, but you manage a small smile when Jay kisses your temple softly, caging you in his arms while Sunghoon grabs a towel from his bathroom to clean up the sticky mess you made.
He retrieves your phone too, taking note of the ended call, before opening the camera app and grabbing your ankles, parting your sore legs as far as you are able to take after all the exertion. He points the camera down and easily slides two fingers back inside your pussy, earning tired weak sounds of protest from you.
“Shh baby, am only showing our Heeseungie what he missed,” he says, lowering his face down to your cunt and replacing his fingers with his tongue. He laps you up, tongue parting your folds and suckling on your clit until your hands weakly hit his shoulders, he takes as much cum as he can in his mouth, then comes up back again until he's face to face with you and kissed you softly, tongue sliding some of the essences in his mouth into yours. He parts from your lips and scoots closer to Jay, repeating the same action.
Butterflies wreak havoc in your stomach when you look at the two man in front of you gently make out, Sunghoon feeding the sticky essence to Jay, his eyes closed and savoring the taste, Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallows and licks inside of Sunghoon’s mouth, careful not to miss any drop.
Sunghoon parts from Jay with a sweet smile and then pecks your lips again. He grabs the warm wet towel he had set next to you, finally cleaning you up, careful not to stimulate you any further, but giggling when your hips twitch into his touch. When he's done, he takes you in his arms and walks to the bathroom, setting you down carefully, hands hovering close to your body making sure you can stand up on your own despite how shaky your legs are, before stepping back and signaling you to pee. Your cheeks heat up at his suggestion, earning a full chested laugh from him.
“I just fucked the daylights out of you, and this is what you’re embarrassed about?” He sets a shirt of his and a pair of Jay’s clean underwear on the sink for you to change into before walking out of the room.
You're drowsy by the time you get back in bed with them, Jay whispering sweet nothings in the crown of your hair—sometimes giving you tiny pecks—and Sunghoon with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, one of his hands caressing your arm gently. You have no idea how you let Heeseung get away with treating you like he did when this is what you could have had all along, but you're glad you got here at the end of the day nonetheless. You don’t know how this will change your relationship with everyone involved, but you decide you'll worry about it another time, possibly when you're well rested and not sore all over your body.
BONUS.
You wake up to the sweet scent of breakfast being cooked on the other side of the apartment, your stomach rumbling loudly but nothing compared to the noise pollution coming from beside you, Sunghoon's mouth ajar as he snores his throat off, his hands still wrapped around your body.
Jay peeks his head through the door and beams at you when he finds you awake, he steps into the room in a "best cook cock" apron, stained in all kinds of ways. "Mornin' beautiful. Sleep well?"
You sit up, sneaking out of the grasp around you to stretch your hands above your head, then gesture to Sunghoon. "Not as well as he is."
Your phone still going off catches your attention, and you get up to grab it but Jay does it for you instead, then sits on the bed next to you after giving you a forehead kiss and handing you the device.
Your eyebrows furrow when you look at your screen. "Now. Which one of you changed his contact name to cuck?"
oh yeah i’m fucking with this
୨ৎ ── man's best friend ♱ park sunghoon
pairing: non idol!朴成训 x fem!读者 word count: 3.5k tags/warnings: explicit content (smut - minors do not interact), dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, pet play, fingering, table sex, dumbifiication, light degradation/humiliation, praise, protected p in v, petnames (baby, good/needy/sweet girl, pup/puppy, pet, sweet thing, pretty), mentions of yeji from itzy and soobin from txt summary: the results of a bdsm test hauntsyou over the course of casual-hookups and failed relationships, a sacrifice amongst many in your attempts to fit the bill of what people expect of you. it's a habit you've neared extinction, put to the test in a relationship with sunghoon that shows you just how good it can be to show up as your true self. notes: this was a bit more emotional than expected lmao? you won't believe how many different versions of this fic there were, but in the end, i think i'm satisfied with this one 🙂↕️ would have posted this sooner but life has honestly been kicking my ass, so writing was the last thing on my mind. i hope to get to your requests/other ideas i have soon, but for now, i hope you enjoy this. much loveeeeee! ᢉ𐭩
comments, reblog, likes are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ
Dating men feels like a humiliation ritual.
In a world of failed talking stages and disappointing one-night stands, asking a man to care about you outside of the ‘life-changing’ ten minutes they promise feels like impossible. More than anything, it paints theatrical clown makeup on your face, your foolishness showing in assumptions on the character of men you let into your sanctuary. The stories may have been funny to tell over girls’ brunch, but there’s no one to laugh with when your hookups scramble out the door, the scope of their interest only ending at what you can provide between your thighs. You’re aware that this is the nature of the game - who can be more detached in sacred intimacy - and during your uni days, no real part of you wants to settle into the predictable rhythm of having a partner. You’re only that age once, only had opportunities like that once, so you hit the ground running: hungover at 9 am lectures, losing your mind hours before narrowly-missed deadlines and gaining friends you knew you’d have for a lifetime. In the beautiful chaos of it all, there’s no real space for a relationship.
Things are different now, however. After tossing your graduate hat in the air, you’re thrown to the wolves of the adult world, choosing between sink or swim in a life attempting to outpace you. By the grace of the universe, you find a job that relates to your degree and doesn’t make you suicidal at the sound of a Teams notification. Despite your parent’s wishes, you move out into the city with your lifelong uni friend, Yeji. You’re jampacked into a shoebox apartment with temperamental hot water and loud neighbours, but when you’re sitting on the firescape on a cool summer evening, tipsy chuckles and cheap wine floating between you, you couldn’t be happier. You couldn’t be happier for Yeji too. She too has endured the horrors of the dating scene, her last date before swearing off men resulting in her long-time boyfriend, Soobin. He’s respectful, dotting and doesn’t eat your share of food when he’s over. He’ll attempt polite conversations if you’re together and bends to whatever whim Yeji has, as heard through the paper-thin walls of your apartment. It’s refreshing to see how he commits to her, sprinkling dashes of reserved hope for your own happily ever after. Which would’ve remained intact if not for—
“It was something out of a horror movie,” you shake your head, hoping the memory evapourates. “We hadn’t even left the restaurant parking lot, mind you. He goes, leans over the console and says, I want to be inside you.”
Repulsed, you shudder at the memory, pawing at your crawling skin. Yeji is equal parts disgusted and sympathetic while Soobin munches on his bag of chips, fast blinks speaking to his disbelief.
He trades a look with Yeji, uncertainty in his tone. “W-was it a sexual thing or cannibalistic?”
“Bro,” Yeji sighs.
“It’s a genuine question!” he protests.
“I don’t think that really matters,” you counter, back straightening at the influx of information your muddled brain processes. “Bones and All is his favourite.”
A hand on your shoulder puts a plug in your mental spiral, sympathy brown in your best friend’s eyes. “What matters is that you’re back home safe, that creep will never be seeing you - or the gates of heaven. Onto the next.”
You settle for a nod, folding into the hug Yeji circles around to give, the gesture blending to the sound of a singular, repeated thought:
If only it were that easy.
One more try, you think. I’m giving this one more try.
Perhaps a slightly begrudging attitude isn’t the best thing to bring to a date, but in the wake of dating horror stories plaguing you, your optimism is rationally six feet under, a heavy cloud of scepticism clouding your ambling figure. In the face of your (possible) cannibalistic encounter, Soobin vouches for someone who’ll be a little less of a miserable time, says he did an internship with the mysterious man a few years back and didn’t know him to be weird except for making car noises when bored. Neither Yeji nor you are convinced, more so when Soobin has no socials for you to do any internet-sleuthing. It can't be worse than the guy who threw up four separate times during your date, so with much assurance from Soobin, you take your chances.
Maps’ robotic voice alerts you off your arrival, your head lifting to the sight of a glitzy restaurant, bathed in opulent soft light with stark white table cloths. Sunghoon - the man sold to you by Soobin - over a few text exchanges, tailors your first-date to you, booking the Thai restaurant you’ve been priced-out of visiting, moving his schedule around to suit yours with the offer of either picking you up or sending you an Uber. All gestures are appreciated, planting that delicate seed of hope but you don’t take his offers, opting for a brisk walk to weigh out your options when it'll eventually go sideways.
The call of your name averts your gaze, lips parting in surprise as the city’s loud soundtrack of car honks and endless construction blurs to a whisper, a string quartet amplifying the feeling of falling - hard. Despite your earlier apprehension meeting a man you’d never seen nor met, you doubt photos would’ve done Sunghoon justice. He’s - for a lack of better words - the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, wispy bangs dispersed across his forehead highlighted by strong eyebrows, moles dotting his marble-carved face reminding you of chocolate-chip cookies you never can resist. Little did you know the same could be said for the man before you.
He wears an expression similar to yours, pupils blown, a generous bouquet of your favourite flowers cradled in his arms.
Clearing his throat seems to ground him, flashing a canine-sharp smile with his hand held out for yours. Your eyes never leave his, in a trance observing the current of electricity where your skin touches, hand brought to his lips as he lays a chaste kiss, setting your heart aflutter.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
It’s a really good date, possibly the best date you’ve ever been on, but again, you’re trying to curb your enthusiasm, a difficult feat with Mr. Checks-All-Your-Boxes-And-Then-Some Sunghoon. Granted the bar is in hell, but Sunghoon exceeds your expectations and some of your dreams too, fostering comfort in a naturally anxiety-embedded situation. You’ve never met a man who's genuinely curious to know you, peeling back layers of you in questions served over beef panang curry. He meets you as far as he meets himself, showing the kind of ambition and emotional intelligence that grows the hope within you a bit more, conversation venturing past your allocated two hours of a first date. He suggests grabbing ice cream at a small-family run business down the street, promising the best of your favourite flavour. There’s no need to knit-pick, your hand never touching a door or bill, Sunghoon walking closest to the road and giving you his musk-scented blazer when the temperature drops, all chivalrous acts you note. He’s nice, he’s——
“You’ve got some ice cream on you,” he points to your face, a humoured curve of his lips sent your way.
You immediately stop swaying on the swing-set you occupy in a nearby park, nothing but faraway city lights in your company as you dab away ice cream spill.
“It’s still-” he chuckles, eyebrows raised. “May I?”
Your heart punches your chest, a swallow nod baring the sole responsibility for what occurs next. It’s all innocent to a point, the pad of his thumb brushing against the warm skin of your cheek with something like fondness dancing in his eyes before the same thumb meets his lips, satisfaction hummed in revelation. “That is good.”
It’s oddly familiar, intensely intimate and the reason for the short circuit of your brain, system frazzled by a man of grace and his tests of your comfort, only drawing closer when consent shines in your eyes. There is no repeat of the ice-cream incident, as perfectly named by Yeji, but you have plenty opportunities to get closer to Sunghoon, dates together exceeding others all before on a picnic on the beach, he reveals a small cake - from the only bakery in a 20 mile-radius that makes passion fruit cake - with the perfect cursive words:
Can I be your boyfriend?
Everything is intentional with him, all i’s dotted and t’s crossed to be the man you can trust. It’s scary, even when it feels right, but it’s leap of faith you’re grateful you take because your life is better for it. He doesn’t complete your life, but adds vibrancy to it, the apps meant to be deleted gone for good.
You’re good together, different enough to encourage growth, yet so alike you lose track of whose habit is the others. So evenly matched, compatible in ways that even surprise you.
“You’re more than a little wet, sweet thing,” he remarks, airy laughter flooding you in a wash of humility. “Is that all it takes for my pup to get excited?”
It’s something you thought you’d take the grave, a joking attempt at a BDSM test taken during your uni days revealing more than you bargained for. In a moment of weakness, you blame your unsupervised internet usage at a young age for the glitches in your brain, not accepting what your deepest desires reflect. There’s no use being this hard on yourself - what you like is what you like - but trusting someone to know parts of you even you’re ashamed of is an exercise in strength. The only reason Sunghoon knows is because in a retake of the test, you desert your phone unlocked, results catching Sunghoon’s eye who later that night sits you down for a conversation that nearly brings you to tears. You feel like you’ve been caught with your trousers down, no longer safe because the image someone has of you doesn’t match what you present. It’s an old people-pleasing wound sustained in the conditional love dished out by your otherwise-great parents, the need to curate yourself to the liking of others dominating most of your life. It’s why the hardest thing you can say is no and the hardest thing you can do is put yourself before others. You become molds for others - the ‘chill girlfriend,’ the over-achieving daughter, amongst many others. It’s how you ended up in terrible situation and relationships, trust fragile because how can you really trust someone who didn’t know the real you?
Nevertheless, times change. Your self-esteem isn’t gutter-low, so you led life with a (mostly) uncensored version of yourself, showing more of your cards to someone who’s never made you question your trust in him.
So, you give in, take that leap of faith again, explaining how he dotes over you is more than enough but maybe you wouldn’t mind a petname or two. It’s one of the most uncomfortable conversation you have, but the emotional safety payback is priceless, held in the arms of someone who accepts you the way you are.
You’re fighting it now though, thrashing against the blockade of his body and the wall behind you - to no avail. “Please,”
“Stop? Keep going? Which is it?” His words trace along the shell of your ear, bending your body in a violent shudder, an accident leak of arousal slipping past your lips. “You’re so good at telling me what you need, sweet thing. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
To torture you more, his calloused hand dips into the fabric of your underwear, hummed mischief caressing your eardrums as one finger slips into you with the easiest glide. Your walls clamp down on it instantly, your balance sustained by arms winding tighter around Sunghoon’s shoulders, whimpers hidden behind pinched lips.
“You even whine like one. So adorable,” His tone is the epitome of sweet, a harsh juxtaposition to the filth behind his words increasing the arousal coating his fingers curling in you. Even between the folds and clothes of your body, you still hear yourself, obscenely loud with enough wet noises to blur your brain in embarrassment, incoherent pleas running out your pouting lips.
“Dumb puppy. Bet I could make you come with one finger, wouldn’t even need to touch your clit, you’d do it for me, right baby?” he goads, licking a strip against your neck to the effect of your nails sinking deeper into the fabric of his shirt. “Why don’t you beg me, pup? Know how much it embarrasses you but you’ll do it because you like it too, don't you?”
Pleas fly out your mouth, eyes fallen shut as your skin sets ablaze, stomach pulled tight in the madness your body chases, hips following Sunghoon’s hand tracing a fingertip against your aching entrance. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I swear. Just please, please touch me. More, more.”
“So worked up, sweet thing. Kiss?” His sloped nose brushes yours, a suggestion more than a command, jittery lips overlapping over his in a bruising kiss. He steals your breath, lips on lips a distraction from him stuffing two fingers in your aching cunt, scissoring you open. “Good girl. My good fucking girl.”
Cheeks rival the surface of the sun, nearly ashamed of the never-ending need growing inside you, surrendering the deepest, darkest parts of yourself to someone on a silver platter, a bond to have never crossed your mind throwing you through a loop. Sunghoon only escalates its force as he lifts your leg up to gain better access, fingers curled in a perfect angle for the quivered gasps from your lips to his, his thumb drawing circles on your clit.
“Poor thing,” his breath caresses your skin, pinning you to drywall as he lays kisses at the base of your jaw. “Leaking all over my hand. Does being my puppy turn you on that much?”
A whimper unleashes, blamed on the forced pumps of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge, not on the petname clamping your leaky cunt down on his fingers in greed and glory.
“What’s the matter?” Sharpened canines scrape the square of yout jaw, words as heavy as the growing knot wound in your stomach. “Don’t want me to know how wet it gets you? Your body will betray you every time, baby.”
Betray you it does as he hits the spot deep in you coating your eyelids in shooting stars, huffed pants sung in choruses from your low-hanging jaw, hips buckling in his hold with the bite marks littering the fragile skin of your ear.
“Close, I’m close,” you manage in the wild throttle of your approaching orgasm, hazy film blinked away to take in the shallow dips on Sunghoon’s rattled chest, lips pomegranate red with dark eyes to match. There’s a curve to his lips you’ve never seen, so enthralled by the rock of your hips - where you meet - that he doesn’t notice your stare until your hand buries into his shirt, a yank drawing your eyes together. “Can I?”
“Can you come?” is his chuckled response, forehead bracing against yours, face bathed in midnight light. “Of course, baby. So desperate to get my fingers all messy. Make your mess, pup.”
The thread snaps with the force of the world, ears ringing to the explosion of the world as you know it, the fanned flutter of your walls the prelude to the sharp clench your cunt does on his soaked fingers, shrill wail silenced to the collide of Sunghoon’s lips, swallowing your cries whole as he works you through your release. He smirks against your lips, affording more room to move his fingers as your body comes back to him, string of spit connecting your lips that he licks into his mouth through the low curl of his lashes, face mere millimetres from yours.
“Can’t wait,” he rushes, careful to lower your tired-muscled leg down to the ground, fighting to discard his jacket. “I’m fucking you now. That okay?”
Confirmation comes in winded words, buckled knees locking around Sunghoon’s waist as he hoist you into his arms, kissing up the column of your neck, head lolled back to afford more of him on you. He doesn’t travel far, patience a concept as he braces you onto your home office table, perched on the edge where his hands have all access to you, clothes tossed, inhibitions forgotten.
Layers become apparent, the nude of your body contrasting with the clothing he dons, the thread of the familiar and unknown, so many silent words traded between looks seeking a myriad of connections. Held between his teeth, the condom wrapper rips, Sunghoon’s trousers rolled down enough for his cock to spring free, heavy and leaking onto the curve of your stomach.
Arms circle him, a deep-seated need to be close to him in every way as Sunghoon melts into your embrace, voice as soft and sweet as he is. “I know, baby. Trust me, okay?”
You nod into the crook of his neck, a hint of jasmine on him as a gasp claws out your throat, Sunghoon pushing into you with the known burn of belonging, fluttering walls torn between overwhelm and longing.
“Can never get enough of you, sweet girl,” he murmurs, face pinched at the feel of you. “So needy for me, so tight around me.”
You mewl to the twist of your stomach, claws in his back as he stretches you open in a move to relieve and build tension, more slick coating him as his hips meet yours, once slow before a rhythm builds, your moans woven into the soundtrack of skin on skin, hungry and filthy in pursuit of release. Up is down, your head spun and body wrung every way round, bold heat collecting in the pits of your stomach as Sunghoon pumps into you with desperate regard, torn huffs and puffs from his chest tightening your hold against him.
“You’re such a good puppy, letting me fuck you like this,” his eyes are unusually dark, teh lopsided grin on his face cast in warm light and night shadows enough to run a shiver down your spine. “Lemme give this needy clit some attention.”
Buckling under his words, you watch on as his fingertips collect the dripping arousal between the two of you, pad of his thumb smoothing out your clit before there’s a soft pinch, enough to shock your system, body jolting with the clatter of files and other miscellaneous items.
He’s close again, his smirk audible as his thrusts slow, his words taking center stage. “Whose are you?”
Eyes shut, heat scorching across the expanse of your skin as you hold on together, breath knocked your lungs at the abrupt, hard slam of his cock inside you, your fate sealed.
“Y-yours,” you stutter out, a string of whimpers and whines following, fingers threading into the silk strands of his hair. “I’m your pup.”
“That’s my girl, my good pet.” Every petname carries the firm snap of his hips flush to yours, cock reaching parts of you crossing over bounds of pleasure known, legs locking around his waist to keep the sensation forever-lasting. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
The quiver at the end of his sentence is the beginning of the end, a combination of things sending you over the edge: pinches against your clit, the deep plunge of his cock your walls shape to, the incessant squelch of your bodies meeting, fanned breaths blending into one as your lips meet in messy kisses, saliva smeared and tongues tangled.
“Can you be good? Can you come for me, pretty?”
Sunghoon undoes you, constructing the code for your body to implode, jitters ravaging your limbs, pleasure so intense it blinds your eyes, white-light streaking your sight as your cunt squeezes down on him in one last attempt at connection, cervix kissed with the hot lava feel seeping through your bloodstream. Groans fill your ear, muffled to the sounds of your cries to your crash down to earth, a few half-hearted ruts ending in Sunghoon spilling into the condom, your head forced to the wall as Sunghoon’s hands barely hold him up, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
When the smoke clears, pants boiling down to silence, Sunghoon’s forehead peels off your feverish skin, stare directed at you.
“So,” his words hang in the air, saturated in aftermath sex and sweat. “What colour collar are we getting you?”
“The colour of your tip,” your finger jams into his forehead, pushing his hunched figure away.
“That’s already your nail colour, no?” His grin is shit-eating, earning the roll of your eyes as you attempt to kick him away, only for him to grab onto your ankle.
Something blankets the mischief in his eyes, gaze trained on yours as he places a tender kiss to your ankle, to your knee and when he’s closer, your cheek, his hands cradling your face with a heart-warming tenderness.
“Thank you for trusting me.” he says, voice earnest and low enough for you to hear.
“Always,” is what you reply with, never gaining a reason to change your answer for the man who treasures you like no other, your very best friend.
thank you for reading! ᰔ
gnawing at the irons bars of my enclosure i need him so bad
☤ TEETH. ❝ 𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳 ❞ 박성훈⸝.ᐟ⋆
PAIRING 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ۶ৎ 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ S 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌. 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾.
꧁𓊈 soundtrack 𒆜 profiles 𒆜 sunghoon’s playlist 𓊉꧂
TAGS&WARNINGS
slowburn enemies to lovers 。childhood friends 。mostly written chapters 。love triangle with jake 。comedy 。slice of life 。fluff 。high society 。chaebol sunghoon 。chaebol reader 。found family 。college au 。fratboy sunghoon 。old money politics 。angst heavy 。partly a social media au 𝓦 。。profanity, toxic dynamics, suggestive language, sexual content ⨾ heavy smut (MDNI) sunghoon is an actual asshole, everybody is a freak, they hate each other fr, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, alcohol, partying, misandry, degradation, public humiliation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, obsession, emotional manipulation, abuse, mentions of abuse, high society elitism, power play
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ READ HERE 𐔌 . ⋮ TOTAL PARTS .ᐟ ֹ ⤷ 12 ⁞ 𐚁 ꒱
PROLOGUE ㅡ PART ONE No profit ㅡ PART TWO Chessboard ㅡ PART THREE Endless ㅡ PART FOUR I’m sick of games ⟢ 5.4k ㅡ PART FIVE Too easy ㅡ PART SIX Fill the thirst ⟢ 1.1k ㅡ PART SEVEN Sink my teeth in ⟢ 8.7k ㅡ PART EIGHT An empty mirage ⟢ 8.5k ㅡ PART NINE Because I see everything ⟢ 13.7k ㅡ PART TEN I know you’re enjoying it ⟢ 17.7k ㅡ PART ELEVEN The more you hide it ⟢ 16.8k ㅡ PART TWELVE The more it appears ⟢ 18.6k
⋆ ASKS/REBLOGS/COMMENTS ALWAYS APPRECIATED⋆ 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 ♡ 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌, 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 (𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌). 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 published 𝖿𝗂𝖼, 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 and more to me ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ, ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘʟʏ!
⋮ ⌗ ┆ DISCLAIMER ⨾ 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝖿 fiction 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 no 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺, 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿-𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇—𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒—𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 solely 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.
words cannot describe how beautifully this is written. please check this out if you get the chance, you will. or be disappointed
haikyuu boys and their number one princess <3
ft. iwaizumi, suna, and osamu
--
Iwaizumi
“Are you still mad?”
You fold your arms over your chest harder, cross your legs tighter, and crane your neck further, only letting out a loud and dramatic exhale in answer to his question.
Iwaizumi says nothing else, but takes one hand off the steering wheel to offer it up to you.
When you leave his hand hanging, his fingers wiggle towards you in a “come here” motion. You put a closed fist into his hand.
Your boyfriend says nothing but at the next red light, he pries your fist open and twines his fingers through yours. Then, he uses his other hand to force your now spread fingers tightly closed around his.
“There,” you hear him huff quietly to himself.
You’re really no longer mad, just feeling a bit petty but he doesn’t need to know that.
Suna
You can’t believe him. The nerve of his diva ass to leave the house after the argument he picked. It takes a hot shower, a face mask, and a good nap to just get your frustration under control and that’s when your phone finally rings.
“What?” you answer brutishly. Eye for an eye.
Rintaro’s quiet on the other line.
“Well, are you gonna say anything?”
He sighs and you’re this close to hanging out and taking another shower. “I bought the toilet paper.”
“Oh, great. Want me to compliment you? Thank you for doing the bare minimum-”
“You know…” he cuts you off. “It was your turn to buy the toilet paper.”
“No, it wasn’t. You always have the first and third weeks of the month today’s…” you trail off once you glance at the calendar.
He sighs again. “Anyway, I’m coming home soon. Bye, babe.”
He hangs up before you can respond.
Okay, so what if he was right and you were wrong. Why would he hang up on you like that? He’s such a petty jackass-
Your phone lights up with a text.
Do you want your coffee or are you still feeling like a bitch?
Osamu
Osamu’s already laying in bed, scrolling on his phone, when you finish brushing your teeth. With every intention to show him how mad at him you still are, you plop angrily onto your side of the shared mattress and curl up with your back to him. You give him one pointed glare before turning back over, flipping the covers over yourself so aggressively, it pulls them right off of Osamu.
Your boyfriend says nothing, bless his soul, before sliding towards you and putting an arm over you in an attempt to spoon. You throw his arm off, inching even further away.
You hear him exhale one deep and painful breath before he yanks your phone out of your hand and manhandles you so that you’re laying in the middle of the bed on your back.
“What’s your- oof”
He rests his entire body on top of you, forcing your limbs to starfish out to accommodate his weight. Then, he continues to scroll on his phone with you under him.
“Get off!”
“Not ‘til you get rid of that attitude.”
You shove at his stomach but he doesn’t budge, happy to crush you to sleep.
It takes monumental effort to bite back a smile when he asks you, “all done?”
“No,” you say petulantly.
“Good. I can do this all night.”
i love when a man can handle reader with attitude especially iwazumi. like i’ve known he’s a brat handler since DAY ONE.
seeing one of my fav fics by a fav author GONE is absolutely heartbreaking guys pleek what happened to karinasbaby that was goat
How to be a Real Man
enhypen masterlist
my wattpad
💌 for the girlies who were never treated right <3
provider! park jongseong (jay) x heartbroken! femreader | healing romance AU l angst & smut lex-toxic love to safe love I emotionally mature comfort | slow-burn security | fluff-laced smut | stability kink | he cooks, he listens, he stays | no fixing men — he's already whole.
summary: After an exhausting relationship that left you numb and unseen, love is the last thing on your mind — until Jay. Calm, steady, and ego-free, he doesn't try to fix you. He simply stays. No chaos. No pressure. Just warmth, patience, and the quiet strength of a man who knows how to love right - emotionally, mentally, and physically.
a/n: To my girlies (and anyone who needs to hear this): please remember, you are never "too much." The wrong person will always make you feel like you're asking for too much, but the right person will show you it was never too much at all — it just wasn't enough with them. You deserve steady love. You deserve safety. You deserve someone who doesn't just stay for the good parts, but holds you through the messy ones too. Healing isn't linear, but it's possible — and you don't have to shrink yourself to be worthy of it.
__________________________________________
The fight ended like all the others did: with silence sharp enough to bruise.
You sat on the edge of his dorm bed, staring at the textbook you hadn't touched in an hour, while your boyfriend paced the room. His words were already fading into static — the same accusations looped again and again. Too sensitive. Too demanding. Never enough.
When you finally whispered, "I can't do this anymore," you thought he would fight. That he would at least look up, wounded or angry, something to mark the end of a year together. But he only shrugged.
"Then don't."
Just like that. You were dismissed.
Your chest caved in around the quiet that followed. No protest. No effort. Just the hollow confirmation of what you'd been fearing all along: you had never been enough for him to stay.
You left his room before your tears could fall, walking fast down the dorm hall, head down so no one would see the crack in you.
⸻
The campus quad was buzzing with noise — late classes letting out, friends clustered under lampposts, laughter ricocheting off brick walls. The world was loud, alive, indifferent.
And then Jay saw you.
He had been leaning against the bench outside the library, earbuds tucked in, notebook balanced on his knee. A familiar face — not close, not a stranger either. A mutual friend, always steady in group projects, the kind of guy who stayed back to stack chairs after an event while everyone else ran off.
When his eyes found yours, you froze. Something in your face must have given you away, because Jay was already sliding his notebook closed, pulling the earbuds out.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, like he wasn't asking to be answered but offering you a space if you wanted it.
That was all it took. The tears broke free, and before you could stop yourself, your body leaned toward him like gravity had shifted.
Jay didn't hesitate. He caught you — not dramatically, not with awkward pats — just a steady arm wrapping around your shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the bench. He didn't press for words. He didn't make you explain. He only let you cry into the fabric of his hoodie, the smell of laundry detergent and faint coffee grounding you in a way you hadn't realized you needed.
⸻
When your breathing finally slowed, Jay tilted his head, studying your face with a softness that didn't sting.
"Do you want me to walk you back?" he asked.
Your instinct was to refuse — to apologize for the mess you'd made of yourself, to insist you were fine. But when you opened your mouth, what came out was smaller, truer:
"Can you... just stay? For a bit?"
Jay nodded once, no hesitation. "Of course."
And so he stayed. On a campus full of noise, with your heart still raw and unraveling, Jay became the quiet place between the chaos.
_________
The morning after the breakup had a sound: the radiator ticking like a metronome in a room that didn't know what to do with silence. Your eyes were grainy from sleep that wasn't sleep, your phone face-down on the nightstand like it could stop time if it tried hard enough.
Then: three knocks in a rhythm only your best friend used.
You cracked the door. Yunjin didn't wait for permission—she poured in, a storm in an oversized leather jacket, hair braided back like she'd prepared for battle. A tote bag thudded onto your rug: tissues, a lavender candle, a Tupperware of soup, gummy bears, face masks, a tiny vengeful notebook. She took one look at you and her mouth softened. "Oh, babe." Arms around you, chin hooked over your shoulder, the kind of hug that said I was already on my way the second I felt you crack. When she pulled back, the softness was gone, replaced by the steel she reserved for people who didn't deserve you. "Say the word and I will go to his dorm with a Google Slide titled 'Why You Fumbled a 10/10.'"
A helpless laugh escaped you, small and real. "You made slides?"
"I made sections," she said gravely, dropping to sit cross-legged on your bed. "I. Emotional Neglect is Not a Personality. II. Gaslighting Isn't Debate Club. III. Community Notes on Your Bare Minimum." She flicked her gaze to your face, gentler. "I'm pissed because you're hurting. Not because he's interesting enough to hate."
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, face down. Both of you stilled. You didn't move. Yunjin did. She slid the phone toward you, covering the screen with her palm. "You don't have to look. If you want to, I'll sit with you. If you don't, I'll put it on airplane mode and we'll eat soup at nine in the morning like two unhinged queens. You call it."
You breathed, in and out, ribs aching around the decision. "Airplane mode," you said finally.
"Done." She did it without commentary, then nudged you with her knee. "Shower. I'll make your bed. We are participating in micro-hope today."
"Micro-hope?"
"Little actions that say 'I live here. I deserve comfort.'" She pointed toward the bathroom. "Go. I'll do the thing where I pretend I'm you and put your hoodie where you actually like it."
By the time steam curled from under the door, she had cracked the window, swapped your pillowcases, and set a glass of water on your desk like a benediction. When you emerged, damp-haired and smaller in your favorite sweatshirt, Yunjin handed you a spoon and settled cross-legged with her own Tupperware.
"Plan?" she asked.
"I don't know," you said honestly.
"Okay," she nodded. "Then we start with class. And after class, we see what you have energy for. And if you have energy for nothing, we do nothing. But we do it together."
You loved her so much it hurt.
⸻
Outside, campus was winter-bright, wind pinching cheeks pink, students beelining between brick and bare trees. On the path to the humanities building, you spotted a cluster of familiar faces near the library steps.
Heeseung: long coat, coffee in each hand, carrying the stray peace of someone who always had an extra pen. Jake: bouncing on his heels against the cold, scarf tucked lopsided, golden-retriever warmth personified. Sunoo: immaculate in a cream beanie, holding court about a professor's dubious taste in fonts. Jungwon: earbuds in, but always listening. Ni-ki: lanky, balancing a skateboard with one sneaker like gravity was a suggestion. And in the middle, holding a paper bag folded neat at the top—Jay.
He saw you at the same moment you saw him. The same quiet you'd fallen into on the bench last night bloomed again—no fanfare, just recognition. He lifted a hand in greeting, then took a step, reading your shoulders before he read your face.
"Hey," he said softly when you reached them. Not how are you—he already knew. Just hey, a place to rest a moment.
"Hey," you echoed.
Yunjin's eyes flicked between you and Jay like she was measuring the distance and approving that it wasn't invasive. "Morning, boys," she announced, slipping into the circle. "If anyone says 'you look tired' I'm revoking speaking privileges." Jake blinked. "You look—" he stopped, grinned sheepishly. "Present. In a cool way."
Heeseung passed you the coffee he'd clearly bought for you; the sleeve already had your name scrawled in his careful handwriting. "Jay texted the group," he said, almost apologetic. "Said you might like something warm. If not, I'll drink it. Actually, I'll drink it either way. But it exists for you first."
Your fingers curled around the heat. Jay didn't make a show of it; he just shifted the paper bag to his other hand. "Also...there's banana bread," he added, almost shy. "I...baked too much."
Sunoo perked like a meerkat. "Define 'too much' in units of Sunoo slices."
"Two," Jay deadpanned.
"Per person or per Sunoo?"
Jay considered. "Per moment."
Laughter loosened something in your sternum. You took a piece; the crumb was perfect, the sugar low, the kind of bread you could eat without guilt because it tasted more like care than dessert.
"Thanks," you said, meeting his eyes.
"Anytime," he said, and meant it like any time you ask, not I'm hovering.
You all drifted toward the humanities building together, the lilting, overlapping chatter of people who'd worked on too many group projects not to orbit. Yunjin slid in beside you, tucking her hand around your elbow when a gust of wind tried to move you too fast.
Across the quad, the ex appeared, as if conjured by the word morning. He had that brittle posture you recognized—chin slightly lifted like he was above the mess he'd made. His gaze snagged on the group, then on you. He started forward.
Before fear could tighten your throat, the shape of your circle shifted. Jay's body angled minutely toward the line of your sight; Heeseung stepped left, conversationally filling the space with his broad coat; Jake's laughter swelled, casual but strategic; Sunoo raised an eyebrow that could cut glass. It wasn't a wall. It was weather—suddenly unfavorable for crossing.
The ex hesitated. Yunjin didn't. She turned, voice smooth as ice. "Don't," she said. He huffed a half-laugh, performative. "I'm just trying to talk."
"Crazy," Yunjin replied, tilting her head. "Because last night you were just trying to not." She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. "She asked for presence for months. You shrugged. Now you want audience? Not our venue."
A couple students slowed, curious. Jay's hand brushed the air near your wrist—I'm here; do you want to leave or stay? You exhaled, felt the trembling thought of I get to choose and nodded toward the glass doors.
"Class," you whispered. "Class," Jay echoed, and the group pivoted like a school of fish. No one looked back.
⸻
In lecture, you sat between Yunjin and Jay, the buffer of two different kinds of safety. The professor's voice blurred over slides about social cognition; you wrote the date and nothing else.
A folded scrap of paper appeared on your notebook. Yunjin's handwriting, slanted and impatient:
Micro-hope list (add yours):
– drink coffee while warm
– sit by a window
– answer one email at a time
– when your chest gets tight: five-things-you-see
– say no to what hurts; say yes to what helps
– ask Jay for a recipe (his soups slap)
Your mouth betrayed you with a laugh you didn't expect. You glanced at Jay. He was watching the projector, pen in hand, posture uncomplicated. You nudged the paper toward him, and he added, small and neat:
– carry snacks (protein > caffeine)
– 10-minute walks between classes (I'll go)
– if you can't read, listen. I have the chapter as audio.
You stared at the last line. He slid one earbud case closer without comment, then returned his attention to the slide like he hadn't just offered an accommodation you didn't know you could ask for.
Outside after class, Sunghoon jogged up, breath fogging, holding...a sweater. "You left this at the library yesterday," he said, almost shy. "Smelled like your detergent so I figured." He looked at Jay, then at you again, boyish awkwardness peeking through his resting-cool face. "Uh. It's clean. Probably cleaner than mine."
"Thanks," you said, hugging it to your ribs. Sunghoon's gaze softened in the microsecond where he let himself be sincere. "Anytime," he muttered, then flicked a nod at Jay like she's good? Jay's answering nod said we've got her. It wasn't possessive; it was cooperative.
⸻
By late afternoon you were at the library's group tables, the winter light thinning into gold. A study session had materialized, as they often did: Heeseung diagramming an impossibly tidy outline, Jake googling citations with deadly optimism, Jungwon calmly triaging everyone's deadlines, Sunoo color-coding a shared spreadsheet because chaos offended him on a cellular level, Ni-ki pretending not to do his reading while definitely doing his reading.
Jay occupied the seat beside you like a baseline: not flashy, not invisible. He had a charger, a highlighter, and a thermos that turned out to be miso he'd made between classes. "Sodium's low," he murmured, pouring some into a paper cup. "But there's tofu, so it sticks. No pressure."
You didn't realize your hands were shaking until the cup steadied between them.
Yunjin slipped in ten minutes later, furious again but controlled, a woman with a mission and a tote bag that could commit battery. She didn't mention the ex. She didn't need to. Instead, she dropped a granola bar in front of you like she was tithing to the church of you will be okay. "Eat," she commanded, then threw Sunoo a look. "And stop reorganizing the spreadsheet every time someone breathes."
"It's called version control," Sunoo sniffed, but he shifted a column back and winked at you. "You're still on top." "Always," Yunjin said, then softened. "You can cry here. But you can also not cry here. Both are allowed."
"I might do both," you admitted. "Hot," Jake declared. Heeseung didn't look up from the outline. "Boundaries, Jacob."
"Hot," Jake repeated, quieter.
The hours braided themselves into something livable. You answered three emails. You highlighted four lines. You and Jay exchanged exactly eleven words about an upcoming quiz, and all eleven felt like oxygen. When you stalled out, he didn't push. He turned the audio chapter on low and handed you a sticky note with time stamps for the definitions you needed. When your knee bounced, his foot nudged yours, not to still you but to say I feel it too; we can hum together.
Your phone, face down, stayed quiet. Airplane mode held like a charm.
As the sky darkened, someone floated the idea of food. The communal kitchen in Jay and Heeseung's off-campus place had become a rotating sanctuary for broke students and stressed brains; it was half living room, half soup kitchen, entirely safe. Ten minutes later you were walking the few blocks in a loose pack, cheeks stinging with cold, the night full of breath and streetlight.
⸻
Jay's kitchen looked like a cookbook decided to be kind. Open shelves with jars labeled in block letters. A plant thriving against all odds. A dented pot that had clearly simmered more care than water.
He moved through it the way he'd moved through your feelings all day: with competence and no commentary. "Pasta tonight," he announced. "Tomato basil with olives and mushrooms, or garlic oil with lemon and parsley. There's a salad—no dressing until we eat so it doesn't wilt. And I have bread if we want toast."
Sunghoon took bread duty with a seriousness that made Jake whisper "yes, chef." Jungwon washed lettuce leaves like he was performing a ceremony. Ni-ki sliced mushrooms in precise arcs that would have impressed a surgeon. Heeseung set the tiny speaker to a volume that made conversation easy. Yunjin opened the window, letting street noise and courage in.
You hovered uselessly until Jay handed you the bowl of olives. "Taste," he said.
You did. "Salty," you managed.
He waited. You tasted again. "Briny. But...round? Like it's not punching me."
The corner of his mouth curved, the smallest private smile. "Good palate."
It shouldn't have warmed you the way it did. But there's a specific intimacy in being asked to notice what you're tasting when you've grown used to swallowing without question.
Dinner became laughter against plates, forks clinking, stories ricocheting. Yunjin reenacted a professor's dramatic lecture with such accuracy that Sunoo wheezed; Jake confessed to a disastrous attempt at a French omelet that ended in scrambled eggs and humility; Heeseung told you quietly about a time he thought he'd failed a class and didn't, and how grief plays tricks with certainty. Sunghoon admitted he secretly cried at sports movies. Jungwon, ever the youngest with an old soul, said, "Love is showing up on boring days," and no one teased him.
Jay didn't dominate the conversation. He participated. He asked follow-up questions. He refilled water glasses without fanfare. He placed a folded kitchen towel beneath your elbow when he noticed the table edge biting your skin. When you laughed, he looked like a man remembering a favorite song.
Your phone—still on airplane mode—stayed a universe away.
Later, when everyone sprawled in the living room, Yunjin tugged you to the hallway with the quiet urgency of a friend who doesn't keep things in her throat. "You okay?"
You thought about lying to make it easier. "Not really," you said instead. "But right now I'm...held. It feels weird not to be waiting for an explosion."
Yunjin exhaled. "Because this is what it should have been like. Calm. Boring in the best way. You don't have to audition for your own life here."
"Jay...," you started, then stopped, embarrassed by the heat in your cheeks.
She smiled, not teasing. "He's steady. And he's not a project. If anything, he's a porch light."
"A porch light?"
"Always on. Not begging you to come home. Just...there if you want to."
You swallowed, the image lodging behind your ribs. "I don't want to rush anything," you murmured. "It's too soon."
Yunjin squeezed your hands. "Then don't. Let the house warm up first."
⸻
When it was finally time to leave, the cold outside felt less like a slap and more like a wake-up. The group splintered into pairs at the corner; Yunjin had a late rehearsal, Heeseung and Jake lived in the other direction, Sunoo promised to text when he got in. Jay fell into step beside you with the careful ease of someone who had decided not to be a problem.
"You don't have to walk me," you said, which was true and also not.
"I know," he said. "I want to."
The path cut past the dark athletic fields, the stadium lights off, the world briefly very quiet. You could hear your breath. You could hear his.
"Thank you," you said finally. "For today."
"You don't owe me thanks," he replied. "But you're welcome. For today. For tomorrow, if you need it."
You fumbled for something to give back, small and honest. "The soup was perfect."
"Good," he said, and you could hear the smile. "I can write the recipe down if you want."
"I don't cook like you."
"Then I'll write it like you read," he said. "Short. Clear. No gatekeeping."
At your dorm entrance, he didn't follow you inside. He didn't hover. He handed you a small Tupperware from his bag—soup, labeled with reheating instructions, the handwriting as calm as the man.
"Text me when you're in," he said, then corrected himself. "Or don't. No pressure. I'll be awake a while—midterm prep."
"I'll text," you promised, because you wanted to.
You did, three minutes later, thumbs feeling out the shape of a new language.
you: home. soup in the fridge. thank you for today.
jay: I'm glad you're home. Sleep if sleep comes. If not, I have the audio for chapter 3.
you: tomorrow. maybe during lunch?
jay: I'll bring lunch.
You placed the phone face-up on your nightstand for the first time in months.
On your desk, Yunjin's micro-hope list lay under your lamp. You added a final line in your own handwriting:
– the people who stay
You turned off the light. In the dark, the house inside you felt a degree warmer.
________
The campus café smelled like burnt espresso and cinnamon sugar, a warm fog that coated the back of your throat. You slipped inside ahead of the rush, lecture notes half-finished and useless, shoulders hiked high like you were bracing for weather.
"I'll grab you tea," Jay said, already reading the stiffness in your jaw. "Something soft. Chamomile?"
You nodded. He touched the door with his palm so it wouldn't swing into you, then moved toward the counter with that unhurried gait that made crowded spaces feel less sharp. You took the corner table with your back to the wall and the window at your side, hands tucked under your thighs so they'd stop shaking.
The bell above the door chimed again.
Your ex crossed the threshold with his hands in his pockets, the performance halfway on his face. He scanned the room the way he always did—like there was a script he deserved to deliver and an audience who owed him quiet. Your stomach cinched.
By the time Jay came back, balancing two cups and a small paper bag, he had already seen where your eyes had gone. He set the cups down like he was steadying a tray on a boat, one fingertip holding the lid of yours so it didn't rock. He didn't look at the door. He looked at you.
"Do you want me to handle it?" he asked, low enough that only you could hear. No edge. A simple offer.
"I don't..." Your tongue caught on the ridge of your teeth. "I don't want to talk to him."
Jay's throat moved with a small swallow that wasn't nerves so much as attention. "Then you won't."
Your ex was almost on you. His sneakers squeaked against tile; he stopped at the lip of the table, the line of his body angled for the crowd. "Hey," he said, casual in the way a fire alarm pretends to be a chime. "Can we—"
Jay shifted, not blocking your view, only easing a half-step so he stood slightly forward, shoulder a quiet anchor. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
The ex's jaw clicked. "I wasn't asking you."
"You didn't ask her, either," Jay said, tone even, eyes calm. "You assumed. That's why we're here in the first place."
A hiss of steam from the espresso machine filled the pause. Your ex's gaze flicked to the side, searching for a mirror to perform to. There wasn't one.
"This isn't your business," he said, scoffing like the word business could shrink the shape of you.
"It's hers," Jay replied, a shade softer, as if reminding a friend rather than correcting a stranger. He tipped his head toward you without taking his eyes off the man. "And she just said no. Respect the no."
For a beat, your ex looked like he might push anyway. Jay didn't lift his chin. He didn't plant his feet. He simply stood in a way that said there will be no scene here, only choices. When the bell chimed again behind him, the spell broke. A mutter, a pivot, the door clanged; cold air brushed your ankles and was gone.
Jay waited a breath, then eased back a fraction, opening the small pocket of space between you as if setting a glass down without spilling. He slid your tea closer by its sleeve, thumb checking the heat through cardboard before letting go.
"You didn't have to," you managed.
"I know." He peeled the edge of a napkin free and set it under your cup because the condensation had started to ring the table. "I wanted to."
Your fingers finally unhooked from the seam of your jeans. You wrapped both hands around the cup and held it to your sternum, the warmth seeping past cotton to somewhere you'd thought heat couldn't reach. Jay didn't stare at your eyes, raw as they were—he watched your breathing find shape again, the way your shoulders fell and didn't spring back up.
"Sugar?" he asked.
You shook your head. "Honey?"
The smallest smile ghosted his mouth as he cracked one of the café's single-serve sticks and swirled it into your tea with the wooden stirrer until the honey vanished. His knuckles brushed the paper lid when he handed it back. Your skin sparked like you'd touched a doorknob after walking on carpet—tiny, harmless, awake.
"Thank you," you whispered.
"Always," he said, and meant the word in the useful way, not the theatrical one.
You could feel the hum between you without having to call it anything. His forearms rested on the table, not a cage, only a warm horizon. He leaned in a little when you leaned, then leaned back when you did, a quiet echo that let your body decide the radius. Beneath the table your knee jolted once—habit—and the toe of his shoe nudged against your sneaker, not to still you but to say I'm here; you can shake and still not spill.
You set the cup down and found his eyes. They were unhurried, not fishing for confessions, not angling for payoff. When you looked away—to the window, to the streak of sunlight on a parked bike—he didn't follow your face with his gaze. He let the air do the holding so you wouldn't have to.
The paper bag crinkled when he slid it toward you. "They were out of scones," he murmured, "so I got the lemon shortbread. Thought the zest might cut through the...you know." He wiggled the stirrer, the tiniest joke. Your mouth, traitor, smiled.
"Will it?" you asked.
He broke the cookie in half, then in half again, and offered you the bigger of the small pieces, fingertips steady. "Try."
You did. Brightness broke on your tongue. Your throat worked. A soft sound left you that might have been a laugh.
Outside the window, the campus moved. Inside, heat found your hands.
When you finally stood, Jay didn't rush to gather your bag. He slid his palm to the edge of the table and held the corner still while you dragged your tote across so the strap wouldn't catch on the chair. His coat brushed your sleeve when you stepped past him. Neither of you said sorry for the contact.
The afternoon had that thin winter sun that pretends to be warm. On the path across the quad, Yunjin materialized at your right shoulder with winded fury and a grin sharp enough to open cans. "I saw him slink out," she said, breath fogging. "I have six insults for his haircut, five for his soul, and one for his notes app apology. Later."
You huffed. Beside you, the corner of Jay's mouth tilted like he was trying not to show he'd heard.
Up ahead, Heeseung and Jungwon were already arguing about whether the study guide should be arranged by themes or weeks. Their voices rolled back across the lawn, familiar as a favorite song on low volume. Sunoo and Ni-ki peeled off toward the library with promises of securing a study table. Jake jogged backward for three steps to tell you he'd bring extra highlighters, then nearly tripped over his own feet and swore allegiance to gravity.
You and Jay matched pace without trying. Your elbows found a rhythm that meant you didn't have to watch your feet to avoid bumping. The wind slipped its cold fingers under your scarf; before you could reach up, Jay's hand lifted, paused—asking—then settled the knit higher against your throat with a careful sweep that ignored hair and caught only wool. His palm hovered a second longer than necessary near the curve where your pulse lived, heat without pressure, then fell away.
"Thanks," you said, still looking forward so you wouldn't stare at his mouth.
He cleared his throat. "It's a good scarf."
"It's five years old."
"Then it's loyal."
The laugh that rose surprised you. It was small and round and yours.
At the crosswalk, the group bunched. Jay stood a half step behind you, close enough that your backpack brushed his ribs when you shifted, far enough that if you wanted space the air could slip between you without working for it. The light changed; you started together. Your hands swung, not in time, then found it. On the second step your knuckles grazed. On the third, they grazed again. On the fourth, neither of you corrected the angle.
It wasn't hand-holding. It was proximity learning a language.
Yunjin cut you a side-eye that was ninety percent relief, ten percent threat to anyone who'd break this. You bumped her hip with yours; she bumped back, the communion of women who survive and then, despite themselves, glow.
By the time the humanities building threw its shadow across the path, the heat in your chest had settled into something more precise. You weren't waiting for a crash or a siren. You were noticing: Jay's breath leaving in even clouds; the way he listened with his shoulders as much as his ears; the quiet habit he had of positioning himself between you and opening doors—not to bar you, but to take the first brush of cold.
At the entrance, Yunjin hooked two fingers through your tote and tugged. "I'm stealing you after seminar for ten minutes to talk about tomorrow. Not now. Just—ten minutes." Her gaze flicked to Jay, then softened at you. "You good?"
You glanced at him without meaning to. He didn't jump to answer for you. He waited.
"I'm good," you said, and felt it be true for the length of a breath, then another.
"Okay." Yunjin released the tote and aimed two fingers at your ex who was, mercifully, nowhere. "If he approaches again, I'm filing an injunction with Student Affairs and also God."
Jay hid a smile behind his knuckles.
Inside, the foyer buzzed, lockers clanging, the metallic chorus of a thousand keys. You and Jay paused at the split in the hallway where your classes diverged. You lifted your tea; he lifted his empty hand as if it, too, had something to hold.
"Thank you," you said, and the words didn't feel like a debt.
He tipped his head. "Text me if you want the notes I made for the reading. Or if you want to ignore the reading and eat. Either is a valid academic strategy."
A puff of laughter escaped you. "I'll...text."
"Good." He shifted like he might touch your shoulder, stopped, then didn't have to—your body had already taken a tiny step closer on its own. For a heartbeat, warmth bloomed along the sleeve where his coat brushed yours again. His eyes softened, not darker, not hungrier—warmer. "I'll be around," he said.
"I know," you answered, and it felt like stepping onto ground that didn't tilt.
He went left. You went right. Your fingers tingled as if you'd been holding something and had just set it down. Halfway to class, your phone buzzed.
jay: chamomile report: too floral? I can switch to peppermint tomorrow.
You walked three more steps, smiling at the floor like a person who's remembered a secret and decided to share it.
you: chamomile's perfect. the honey helped.
jay: noted. I'll bring honey.
you: you don't have to.
jay: I know.
You slid the phone into your pocket, palm resting over it, warmth pooling under your skin. Somewhere between the café door and the hallway split, something had shifted—not a leap, a tilt. You weren't falling. You were leaning.
And for the first time since the breakup, the wondering didn't scare you. It felt like standing under a porch light in winter, breath a little cloud, door close, the kind of brightness that doesn't blind—just waits.
________
The library's fluorescent lights buzzed above, but the corner table had become yours and Jay's without anyone needing to declare it. You'd spent the past week orbiting him more than you realized — his notes sliding across the desk, his thermos settling between your elbows, his quiet "you good?" when your breathing went sharp around a midterm question.
Now, as evening slid its weight across campus, you were both bent over the same laptop screen. His shoulder brushed yours every time he scrolled; neither of you corrected the angle.
"You type faster," he murmured, sliding the keyboard toward you. His hand lingered a second too long on the edge, knuckles grazing yours before he leaned back.
Heat rushed your cheeks. You began typing, words clumsy from nerves, but the nearness of him steadied your rhythm.
⸻
Across the table, Yunjin cleared her throat, dramatic. "Am I... intruding on a vibe?"
Your head snapped up. She was sprawled in the opposite chair, smirk tucked under a curtain of hair. Heeseung chuckled from the next table over, pretending not to watch.
"There's no vibe," you said too quickly.
Jay's lips twitched, but he didn't argue. He only reached for his pen, spinning it between fingers with that calm ease that made the denial feel thinner.
Yunjin raised an eyebrow like she'd just won a bet. "Right. No vibe. Got it." She winked at you on her way out.
The silence she left behind was charged.
⸻
When you finally pushed your chair back, the room had thinned to a handful of students. Jay packed up slowly, as if making space for you to decide first. Outside, the night was crisp, lamps glowing halos over empty benches.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Starving."
He nodded. "Come by. I've got leftovers."
You shouldn't have said yes. But you did.
⸻
Jay's apartment smelled like garlic and rosemary, the remnants of something simmered with patience. He set a plate in front of you, warmed through, steam curling toward your face. "Eat first," he said, pulling off his hoodie, leaving just a worn black tee that clung too well to his shoulders.
You tried not to notice. Failed.
Halfway through the meal, laughter slipped between bites, easier than you expected. When you reached for your glass, your hand knocked the fork. It clattered to the floor.
Jay bent to grab it at the same time you did. For a second your faces were too close under the table. His eyes flicked to your mouth before he straightened, fork in hand. He set it aside, voice low. "I'll wash another."
Your pulse thudded.
⸻
Later, you found yourself on his couch, blanket over your legs, some late-night rerun humming on the TV. Jay sat beside you, not too near, not too far. Until you shifted. Until your knee brushed his thigh and didn't move.
He glanced down. Back up. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
"You're tired," he said softly.
"Maybe."
"Lie down." His voice was careful, not a command — an offer.
You hesitated. Then you leaned, head against his shoulder. His body went still for a moment, then melted, arm lifting to drape along the back of the couch. His fingers hovered near your hair, waiting.
When you tilted, inviting, he touched — slow, deliberate, fingertips grazing your temple before sliding into your hair. The stroke was gentle, but your whole body sparked.
You exhaled against his shirt. He smelled of soap and something warm, faintly spicy — cinnamon maybe, or just him.
"Better?" he asked.
Your throat was dry. "Yeah."
But the way your hand fisted the blanket said otherwise. The way his thumb traced absent circles against your scalp said he knew.
⸻
The simmer had tipped. Not chaos, not rush. Just heat, curling steady in the quiet.
You weren't sure who would break first — him leaning down, or you tilting up.
But for the first time, you weren't afraid of the moment when comfort could turn into something more.
You wanted it.
_________
Jay's kitchen had become too familiar, too safe. That was the problem.
You shouldn't have felt butterflies stepping into a space where the counters were always wiped down, where the knives gleamed from being sharpened weekly, where the spice rack looked like an army in formation. But there he was at the stove — sleeves shoved up, hair falling over his forehead, stirring something that already smelled too good — and suddenly your skin was a live wire.
He was humming. Not loudly, just under his breath, a rhythm that matched the bubbling pot.
"You know," you said, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed, "this is starting to feel like false advertising."
Jay glanced up, brow furrowed. "False advertising?"
"Yeah." You tilted your head, watching the muscle in his forearm flex as he stirred. "Like — every time you cook for me, it sets my standards higher. How am I supposed to date again if you've ruined cafeteria food, takeout, and literally anyone who can't dice an onion properly?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Maybe that's the plan."
You blinked. "The plan?"
Jay shrugged, casual, but his ears had gone a little pink. "Cook enough meals that you stop comparing."
Your pulse jumped. You picked up a piece of chopped bell pepper from the cutting board and popped it into your mouth. "What if I start comparing everyone to you?"
His stirring slowed. He set the spoon down, turned to face you fully, one hand braced against the counter. He didn't close the distance, but the kitchen felt smaller anyway.
"Then," he said, low, "I'd have to cook for you forever."
The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable — charged. The steam curled up between you, fragrant and warm. You realized your hands had gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
So you teased him again, because it was safer than admitting how much his words had hit. "Forever's a long time. You sure you can handle my picky ass?"
His eyes flicked to your mouth. Back to your eyes. He leaned just enough that you could feel the heat of him.
"I can handle you," he said, calm but weighted.
Your breath caught.
⸻
The tease had become something else. When you laughed — nervous, thin — he reached for the bell pepper you'd stolen earlier. Instead of eating it, he brushed it lightly against your lips. "Still hungry?"
Your lips parted without thinking. His thumb lingered against your lower lip as he fed you the piece, eyes darkening just slightly.
You chewed, swallowed, throat dry. "You're playing dirty, Park." "Am I?" His voice was quiet, almost a dare.
You didn't realize you'd moved until your toes touched his sneakers. You tilted your chin up, and his hand — careful, steady — slid from the counter to the small of your back. Not pulling, not pushing. Just there.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
You didn't. So he kissed you.
⸻
It wasn't dramatic. No crash, no mess. Just the warm press of his lips against yours, patient and devastating all at once. The kind of kiss that didn't rush to prove anything. The kind of kiss that said I've been waiting, and I'll wait again if you need me to.
When you sighed into him, his other hand rose, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His thumb stroked along your cheekbone. Your body leaned into his without asking your permission, melting against the steady wall of him.
Jay kissed like he cooked — measured, intentional, layering flavors until you were undone.
When he finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, your eyes stung. "Jay..."
He brushed his nose against yours. "Too much?"
"No," you breathed. "Not enough."
His laugh was quiet, warm against your lips. Then he kissed you again, deeper this time, the taste of basil and salt and something sweeter you couldn't name lingering between you.
And for the first time, your body didn't just feel safe. It felt wanted.
_______
The pasta went cold. Neither of you cared.
You were still perched on the counter, knees brushing his hips, his palms steady at your waist. Jay had kissed you slow, again and again, like he wanted to prove patience could taste just as intoxicating as urgency.
But now, when the silence stretched, fear snuck in at the edges of your chest.
"Jay..." Your voice cracked. You forced yourself to meet his eyes. "I need to say this before it gets heavier later."
He didn't flinch. "Say it."
"I don't—" You swallowed, throat dry. "I don't want you to think you're a rebound. Because you're not. You're not a distraction. You're not a... bandage. You're—" Your voice broke, tears catching hot. "You're the first thing that feels real after so much that wasn't."
Jay's expression didn't shift into surprise. If anything, his gaze softened more, like he'd been waiting for you to believe that yourself. His thumbs traced slow circles at your waist.
"I know," he said quietly. "I wouldn't have kissed you if I thought you were using me to fill a hole. I trust you more than that."
You choked on a laugh, watery and real. "You trust me? When I barely trust myself?"
Jay's hand rose, cupping your jaw again, thumb catching a tear before it could fall. His voice was steady, low, full of something that made your stomach ache.
"I've been in love with you for a long time."
Your breath stuttered. "Jay..."
He held your gaze like it was the easiest thing in the world. "I didn't say anything because you weren't ready. I wasn't going to force myself into your life when you needed space to just... survive. But I need you to know. This isn't new for me. It isn't casual. You're not my rebound either."
Tears spilled then, helpless. "Why didn't you ever—"
"Because you deserved someone who stayed even when it wasn't romantic. I wanted to be that first." His forehead tipped to yours, gentle, anchoring. "Now, if this is more—if we are more—I want that too. But I'm not going anywhere if you need me to slow down. Ever."
Your hands fisted in the cotton of his shirt, clinging. The ache in your chest wasn't grief anymore — it was relief so raw it hurt.
"I want you," you whispered, voice breaking. "Not as a rebound. Not as—anything temporary. Just... you."
Jay exhaled, a sound that shook like he'd been holding it for months. His mouth found yours again, deeper this time, the kiss trembling with everything unspoken. His hands pulled you closer, and you let him, your tears salt-wet against his lips.
When you broke apart, you were both breathless, foreheads pressed, the room warm with something that had nothing to do with the stove.
"You're sure?" he murmured, one last check.
"I've never been more sure," you said.
Jay smiled then, wide and unguarded, the kind of smile that rewrote every memory of men who'd left you cold.
And when he kissed you again, it wasn't safety turning into desire. It was love, finally allowed to burn.
________
Yunjin was sprawled across your bed like she owned it, shoes kicked off, a half-eaten bag of sour gummies between you. She had dragged you back to your dorm after class with the promise of "girl time," which usually meant light chaos, unsolicited advice, and Yunjin's signature brand of feral honesty.
You'd been buzzing since last night. Not caffeine-buzzed, not anxiety-buzzed. Something warmer, steadier, terrifying in its certainty. Every time you thought about it — Jay's mouth, Jay's words, I've been in love with you for a long time — your chest filled like you'd swallowed sunlight.
But Yunjin was staring at you now, head propped on her hand, waiting. She always knew when you were keeping something.
You fiddled with the gummy wrapper. "Okay. Don't freak out."
She sat up instantly. "You kissed him."
Your jaw dropped. "How the hell—"
Yunjin smirked, smug. "Please. You two have been walking around campus like a low-budget K-drama for weeks. The study sessions? The soup? The way you stare at him stirring pasta like it's foreplay?" She popped a gummy into her mouth, chewed with flair. "Obvious."
Heat rushed to your cheeks. "I wasn't staring—"
"You were drooling," she corrected. "And don't even try to act coy. The boy looks at you like you hung the moon and the Wi-Fi router."
You buried your face in a pillow with a groan. "Yunjin."
She laughed, sprawling back out, kicking her legs. "So? Spill. Was it good?"
The memory hit you full-force — his hands steady at your waist, the way he paused to ask if it was too much, the way you couldn't stop crying after because it felt so real. You bit your lip, nodded into the pillow. "It was... more than good."
Yunjin's grin softened into something warmer. She nudged your knee with hers. "See? This is what I've been screaming about. No chaos. No games. Just someone who knows how to show up without making you beg for it."
You peeked at her through your fingers. "He told me he's been in love with me for a long time."
She didn't even flinch. "Duh."
"Duh?!"
"Girl, everyone could tell except you. The way he makes excuses to sit next to you, the way he goes quiet when you're upset because he knows you don't need noise, the way he bakes an entire loaf of banana bread like it's a love letter." She flicked your forehead. "That man has been screaming I'm in love with you in Jay language for months."
You blinked. "Jay language?"
"Acts of service, deadpan humor, and the way he looks at you like you're a warm bowl of soup on a cold day." Yunjin rolled her eyes, but her voice gentled. "I'm glad you finally caught up."
Your throat ached, but this time from holding back a laugh. "I was scared, Jin."
She leaned closer, wrapping her arms around you in a crushing hug. "I know. But listen to me: you're not broken. You never were. He's not fixing you — he's just finally loving you the way you always deserved."
You squeezed back, burying your face in her shoulder. "God, you're too good at this."
"I know," she said, smug again. Then she pulled away, wagging a finger. "But if you ever self-sabotage this because you think you're too much or not enough, I will smack you with a bag of frozen peas."
You snorted, tears prickling your eyes. "Frozen peas?"
"Cheap. Efficient. Reusable." Yunjin grinned. "Like me."
The both of you dissolved into laughter, the kind that hurt your ribs, the kind that made the heavy parts of life easier to carry.
And when you lay back on the bed, gummy wrappers scattered around, you realized Yunjin was right. It wasn't a rebound. It wasn't an accident. It was something that had been waiting quietly all along.
________
The library was packed, but the corner table had become unofficially yours. The others were scattered — Yunjin "studying" with her earbuds blasting, Sunoo and Ni-ki arguing over statistics at the next table, Heeseung with his head bent neatly over a legal pad. Jay was beside you, laptop open, a neat page of notes already started in his handwriting that looked too clean to be real.
You weren't focused on the notes.
Not when your body had been running hot all day, skin buzzing with awareness that had nothing to do with caffeine and everything to do with ovulation hormones making your veins feel too tight. You could feel it — the way your body leaned toward heat, the way every glance at Jay's hands made your thighs clench.
And maybe, for once, you didn't want to hide it.
You tapped your pen against your lips, then bit down on the cap, teeth sinking lightly into plastic as you skimmed the textbook. It was innocent enough, but the way Jay's eyes flicked — fast, controlled, immediately back to his notes — told you he'd noticed.
You shifted, letting your knee brush his beneath the table. He didn't move. Didn't flinch. But his pen paused mid-sentence.
"Distracted?" you asked, keeping your voice low.
Jay hummed, steady. "Trying not to be."
Your smile curled slow. You leaned forward, elbows on the table, your hair sliding over your shoulder. "Trying?"
His jaw worked once. His eyes never left the page. "Yes."
You bit the pen again, deliberately this time, letting it drag from your mouth slowly as you reread a line you weren't actually absorbing. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught it — the flex of his hand where it rested on the table, the subtle flare of his nostrils like he'd just forced himself to inhale through his nose.
Heeseung cleared his throat two tables away. "You're both awfully quiet over there."
Jay's voice was even. "Studying."
You almost laughed. Studying. Sure.
⸻
Minutes passed in a game neither of you named. Your knee against his under the table, his foot shifting just slightly to anchor against yours. You let your lips part around the pen cap, let your tongue trace the edge before you pulled it away. Jay's knuckles tightened around his pen, but he didn't look at you.
"You're holding back," you murmured, not loud enough for anyone else.
Finally, he glanced at you. His gaze was steady, heavy, pinning you in place without raising his voice. "Because if I stop holding back, we're not getting through a single chapter."
Heat shot straight through you. You leaned closer, your lips almost brushing his ear. "Maybe I don't want to get through a single chapter."
Jay's exhale was sharp, controlled, but his hand stayed steady on the page. He turned it — too neat, too calm. "Not here."
The two words sent a shiver down your spine.
⸻
The others packed up before you. Yunjin threw you a look — half suspicion, half amusement — before leaving with the group. Suddenly the library was quieter, shadows deepening across the table.
Jay finally set his pen down. He turned to you fully, his knee pressing firmly into yours. His eyes held yours with a gravity that made your mouth dry.
"You know exactly what you're doing," he said softly.
You tilted your chin, feigning innocence. "Do I?"
His lips curved, but his gaze didn't waver. "Yes. And I'm not going to give you half of what you deserve in a public library."
The promise beneath his restraint made your pulse trip.
You leaned back in your chair, chewing your pen one last time, just to watch the way his eyes darkened. "So where will you give it to me, then?"
Jay reached forward, slow, deliberate, and took the pen from your hand. His fingers brushed yours, firm. He set it down between you, final.
"When you're ready," he said, voice low and unwavering. "When it's just us."
Your thighs pressed together beneath the table, heat pooling, every nerve alight. He wasn't rejecting you. He was waiting. Holding himself back for you, because you were more than a fleeting urge.
And somehow, that made you want him even more.
_______
The walk back to his place was quiet, the kind of quiet that hummed beneath your skin instead of soothing it. Jay had stayed close, your bags brushing, his hand hovering at your back whenever the sidewalk dipped uneven. It wasn't silence because there was nothing to say. It was silence because there was too much.
By the time you stepped into his apartment, the tension had wrapped around your ribs. The lights were warm, the smell of rosemary lingering from earlier, but none of it grounded you. You dropped your bag too hard by the couch and turned before you could lose your nerve.
"Why won't you touch me?"
Jay froze mid-motion, still holding his keys. His head snapped up. "What?"
Your throat burned, the words spilling faster than you could catch them. "I— I don't understand. I've been... I've been here, right in front of you, and you keep pulling back. In the library, on the couch, even when you kissed me in the kitchen—" Your voice cracked, tears spilling before you could stop them. "Is it me? Am I not—"
"Stop."
The word wasn't harsh. It was firm, like his hands when they steadied a cutting board. He set the keys down slowly, then stepped toward you, careful but unflinching.
"Don't do that to yourself," he said, voice low. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to anchor you there. "Don't twist this into a story where you're not enough. That's not what's happening here."
Your chest heaved. "Then why? Why won't you—"
"Because I don't want you to ever wonder if I was here for the sex," he cut in, steady but soft. "Because I didn't want to be the next guy who takes, when you've had enough of men taking."
The words landed heavy, breaking something open. Tears blurred your vision. "Jay..."
He stepped closer, slow, giving you every chance to step back. His hands hovered at your arms, not touching until you nodded. Then his palms cupped your biceps, warm and grounding.
"I've wanted you for a long time," he admitted, voice shaking just enough to show the weight of it. "But you just got out of something that hurt you. I couldn't let our first time together be tangled up in proving anything, or competing with your past. You're more than that to me."
You sniffled, a broken laugh slipping out. "You're really telling me you've been holding back because you care too much?"
He smiled faintly, thumb brushing your arm. "Exactly."
The dam inside you cracked. You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down until your forehead pressed against his chest. "God, I'm so scared," you whispered. "I don't know if I know how to do this without feeling like I'm being... used."
Jay's arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close but not caging. His mouth pressed to your hair. "Then we don't rush. We go at your pace. And every time you forget, I'll remind you: you're not here to be used. You're here to be loved."
The tears came harder, soaking his shirt, but you didn't apologize. You couldn't. He held you through it, rocking just slightly, whispering words that felt like balm.
When you finally tilted your head up, eyes wet, his gaze was already there — steady, waiting.
"Show me," you whispered.
Jay brushed his knuckles along your cheek. "Are you sure?"
You nodded, throat tight. "I want to feel it. With you."
His jaw clenched, as if holding back a rush of emotion. Then he kissed you — slow, reverent, pouring every bit of patience and ache he'd been holding back. His hands stayed at your waist, careful, until your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him deeper.
This wasn't your ex's kind of touch — hungry, taking, dismissive. This was Jay, every kiss an anchor, every brush of his hands a promise: not because I can, not because I want, but because I love you.
And when he lifted you, carrying you toward the couch, he murmured against your lips, "I'll prove it, as many times as you need. This isn't about sex. It's about us."
_______
The couch creaked under your weight as Jay lowered you gently, his body braced above yours, his lips pressing soft, endless kisses down your face, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. He was still careful — too careful — even after everything you'd just confessed.
And you wanted him. Not carefully. Not halfway.
You wanted him to know you could take it.
You caught his wrist mid-kiss, tugging his hand toward your mouth. He froze, eyes dark, breath stuttering. Slowly, deliberately, you parted your lips and slid his fingers between them, sucking them in until the salt of his skin coated your tongue.
His jaw dropped. A low curse escaped his chest before he could stop it.
You held his gaze as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking slow and wet around his fingers. Your tongue traced the lines of his knuckles, deliberate, filthy. His body trembled above you, the restraint in him fraying with each pull of your mouth.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered, his other hand gripping the cushion near your head so tight his knuckles whitened. "Do you know what you're doing to me right now?"
You moaned around his fingers in answer, the sound vibrating up his arm. His head tipped back, throat tight, the tendons in his neck standing out like he was fighting himself.
When you finally let his fingers slip from your lips with a wet pop, you kissed the pads softly, almost innocent — except for the way you kept looking up at him through your lashes.
"Touch me," you breathed. "Please. I don't want careful right now. I want you."
Jay swallowed hard, still hovering over you like a man trying not to fall. His fingers — slick from your mouth — brushed against your cheek, dragging slowly down your jawline.
"You have no idea," he murmured, voice rough, "how long I've been holding this back."
You smiled, wicked and needy all at once, tugging his hand lower, pressing it against the heat between your thighs. "Then stop holding back."
His eyes snapped to yours, blazing. For a moment, silence pulsed between you, thick and electric. Then his lips crashed to yours, the restraint finally snapping, the kiss rougher, hungrier, his tongue sliding against yours with a groan that rumbled deep in his chest.
His hand pressed firmer against you through your clothes, fingers curling just enough to make your hips jolt. He swallowed your gasp, devouring it like oxygen.
"Tell me again," he demanded against your mouth, voice low, wrecked. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you," you whispered, tears prickling your lashes again, but this time from sheer relief at being wanted back. "So fucking bad."
And Jay — finally, blessedly — gave in.
______
Jay had been kissing you like a man starved, but still — still — there was restraint stitched into every press of his lips. Even now, when your fingers tugged at his shirt, when your body arched into his, when you whimpered his name like a prayer, he pulled back enough to breathe against your cheek.
"Are you sure?" His voice was rough, but the care beneath it was steady. "Because if we start—if I touch you like I want to—I won't be able to pretend I don't want this all the time."
Your heart clenched. He wasn't bluffing. He meant it.
"I want you, Jay," you whispered, eyes wet again, but not from sadness — from the ache of being seen. "Please. I need to feel this. With you."
Something in him cracked. His forehead dropped to your temple, a low groan leaving his throat. "God, baby..."
The next thing you knew, he was guiding you, turning you so your back pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you from behind, caging you without trapping you, every inch of his front pressed flush to yours. The heat of him seeped through your clothes, solid, unyielding, protective.
"Look at you," he murmured, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. One hand gripped your hip, pulling you back into the hard line of his body; the other slid slowly, reverently up your stomach, cupping your breast through the fabric. His thumb flicked gently over your nipple until you gasped. "So sensitive already. You feel everything, don't you?"
"Yes," you whimpered, head falling back onto his shoulder.
Jay kissed along your neck, his breath hot, voice low and steady in your ear. "Good girl. That's what I want. I want you to feel everything — all the love you were denied, every ounce of care you deserve."
His hand left your breast, sliding lower, unhurried, until his palm pressed over the heat between your thighs. You jolted, breath stuttering, and he kissed the corner of your mouth from the side.
"Shh," he soothed, stroking you slowly through the thin fabric. "You're safe. Let me take care of you."
When your hips bucked, needy, he chuckled softly, praise spilling like water. "That's it. Don't hide from me. Give me everything. You don't have to be quiet, not here."
His hand slipped inside, fingers brushing bare skin, and you nearly sobbed at the contact. "Jay—"
"I've got you," he whispered, pressing his chest harder against your back as his fingers traced through your wetness. "Fuck, you're soaked for me. All this, because of me? Say it."
You gasped, clutching at his forearm. "Because of you."
"That's my girl," he praised, sliding a finger inside you, slow and careful, curling just right until your legs shook. His free arm tightened around your waist, holding you against him while he worked you open. "So tight. So perfect. I'll never rush you. I'll take you apart piece by piece until you remember exactly how good you deserve to feel."
His thumb circled your clit, gentle at first, then firmer as your hips writhed against his hand. "That's it. Let me hear you. Don't hold back for me."
Your head fell against his shoulder, tears springing hot at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure built. "It feels so good," you whispered, voice breaking.
"I know, baby. I know," Jay crooned, kissing the wetness from your cheek as his fingers drove you higher. "That's all I want — for you to feel good. For you to know you're worth this. Worth everything."
Your walls fluttered around his fingers, orgasm rushing toward you like a wave. Jay held you tighter, hand working you steady, voice low and certain in your ear.
"Come for me. Don't be scared — I'll hold you through it. Let go, sweetheart. I've got you."
And when you shattered, crying out into the steady warmth of his chest, Jay kissed your temple and murmured it again, over and over:
"I've got you. I've got you. You're safe."
______
The aftershocks still trembled through your body, your back flush to Jay's chest, his arms wound tight around you as if to keep the pieces together. He kissed your damp temple, the curve of your jaw, whispering praise into your skin like scripture.
"You're perfect," he murmured. "Every sound you make. Every shiver. You're mine to take care of."
Your chest ached at the gentleness. But the ache twisted, sharp, needful. You wanted more. You wanted to know he could give you what you craved — not just safety, but the kind of roughness that proved you could survive it.
You turned in his arms, climbing into his lap, straddling him. His eyes widened, hands automatically bracing your hips, steady as always.
"Jay," you whispered, voice raw. "I need you to go down on me."
His pupils blew wide, a groan punching out of his chest. "Baby..."
"And I need you to be rough," you added, surprising even yourself. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging. "I don't want to feel delicate right now. I want to feel... wrecked. By you. Only you."
For the first time tonight, Jay's control fractured visibly. His hands tightened on your hips, a curse falling from his lips. He leaned forward until his forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
"You have no idea what you're asking for," he rasped. "Do you trust me to take you there?"
You nodded, tears pricking your lashes again. "I trust you."
That was all it took.
⸻
He laid you back on the couch, sliding down until he was between your thighs, tugging your panties off in one rough pull that made your breath hitch. He kissed the inside of your knee, your thigh, then looked up at you with eyes dark and reverent.
"Spread for me."
You did, trembling.
His palms pressed your thighs open wider, pinning you, and then his mouth was on you — hot, wet, devastating. His tongue licked a broad stripe through your folds before circling your clit with firm, relentless pressure. You gasped, hips bucking, but his grip was iron, holding you in place.
"Fuck, you taste so sweet," he groaned against you. "All this for me? Say it. Tell me who it's for."
"You," you cried, back arching. "It's all for you, Jay."
"That's right." His lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking quick, merciless. You sobbed, fingers fisting in his hair, pulling — but instead of slowing, he groaned, pressing harder, like your desperation fueled him.
"Jay, oh my god—"
"That's it, baby," he growled, pausing just long enough to shove two fingers inside you, curling them deep, finding that spot instantly. You screamed, clamping around him. He smirked against your clit. "So fucking tight. Grip me like you were made for me."
Your body writhed, overwhelmed, but his free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you down. His mouth never relented, tongue and lips working your clit while his fingers drove into you harder, faster.
"You wanted rough?" he demanded, voice low and wrecked between licks. "Then take it. Take everything I give you. Don't you dare hold back."
You sobbed, legs shaking uncontrollably. "I can't—"
"You can. You will." He looked up at you, mouth glistening, eyes burning with love and hunger. "You're stronger than he ever let you believe. And I'll show you, over and over, until you know it in your bones."
Your orgasm hit like a storm, ripping through you, tears spilling hot as your body convulsed. Jay held you down, eating you through it, not letting up until you screamed his name and begged, raw-throated, for mercy.
Only then did he slow, kissing you soft through the aftershocks, licking you clean like you were his favorite sin.
When he finally crawled up your body, his mouth swollen, chin slick, he kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
"Never delicate," he whispered against your lips. "Never too much. Just mine. Always mine."
______
You were still trembling, body molten and weak, but Jay's weight above you grounded every shiver. His mouth trailed soft kisses along your collarbone, his voice warm and steady even as his breath came ragged.
"You're everything," he whispered. "Every sound, every tear... you're safe with me, baby."
The words undid you. Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your voice broke into a whisper, cracked but sincere.
"You're so good to me, Jay."
He froze, a shudder rippling through him. His hand tightened at your hip, like he was holding himself back from collapsing entirely.
You kissed his jaw, slow, deliberate, then slid your hand down his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Lower, past the plane of his stomach, until your fingers traced the outline straining against his sweats.
"Let me take care of you," you breathed.
"Baby—" His voice was wrecked, already unraveling. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." You pressed your forehead to his, your hand palming him gently. "Please. Let me."
His eyes fluttered shut, a groan breaking free. "Fuck... you'll ruin me."
⸻
You pushed him back against the couch, climbing down between his spread legs. Jay leaned his head against the cushions, watching you with a gaze so raw it made your chest ache. His sweats were damp where he strained against them, and when you tugged them down, his cock sprang free — thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.
You swallowed hard, heat flooding your cheeks. "God, you're... big."
Jay laughed weakly, raking a hand through his hair. "You say that like it's a problem."
Your lips curled into a wicked smile. "Not a problem. A challenge."
You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow, watching his head tip back as a low groan rumbled from his chest. "Shit... feels so good already."
"Yeah?" you teased, leaning forward to kiss the swollen tip, your tongue circling it lightly before pulling back. "You like that?"
His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. His voice dropped, rough and reverent. "I love it. And I fucking love you."
The words spurred you on. You took him into your mouth, lips stretching around his girth, hollowing your cheeks as you sank lower. His hands gripped the cushions, knuckles white, fighting not to thrust.
"Baby... oh my god—" he gasped, hips jerking despite himself. "So fucking perfect. Look at you... taking me so well."
You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tremble. You pulled back, spit slicking your lips, then dove back down, faster, rougher. His hand finally tangled in your hair, not forcing, just anchoring, his restraint fraying with every bob of your head.
"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, voice breaking. "Good girl, so good to me... you're gonna make me lose my mind."
You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him with your hand, saliva dripping down your wrist. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips swollen, voice husky.
"Don't hold back, Jay. Use me. I want it rough."
His eyes darkened, a growl escaping him. Both hands tangled in your hair now, guiding you back down, his hips rolling shallowly into your mouth. Still careful, still measured — but harder, deeper, his groans spilling free as you gagged around him.
"That's it, baby," he praised, voice ragged. "You take me so well... fuck, I'm so close—"
Your eyes watered, spit dripping down your chin, but you never looked away. And when he finally spilled hot and heavy down your throat, his entire body trembling, his groan of your name was wrecked, reverent, and utterly undone.
⸻
He pulled you up onto his lap immediately after, kissing your messy mouth, tasting himself, his hands stroking your back. "You're unbelievable," he whispered against your lips. "So beautiful. So fucking mine."
And for the first time, you believed it.
_____
Your body still trembled, lips swollen, spit shining down your chin, mascara smeared in messy tracks. Your chest rose and fell like you'd just run through a storm, your eyes wet and glassy as you blinked up at him.
Jay stared at you like he'd just seen the most devastating sight in his life — flushed, ruined, tears clinging to your lashes, your mouth still glossy from sucking him down.
"Fuck," he growled, voice low and dangerous now, his chest heaving. "Look at you. Look what you did to yourself for me."
You whimpered, thighs rubbing together, the ache between them unbearable. "Jay—"
Something snapped in him. His hands gripped your waist, dragging you up onto the couch cushions, flipping you onto your back. His body loomed over you, eyes wild, jaw tight.
"You want me to lose control?" he rasped, already yanking your legs apart, your slick still glistening from earlier. "You want me to fuck you until you can't think?"
"Yes," you gasped, mascara-stained eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Jay, I need it—"
That was all it took.
He shoved your panties aside and lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance. He leaned over you, one hand pinning your wrists to the cushion above your head, the other gripping your thigh wide open. His mouth hovered by your ear, his breath hot, ragged.
"Look at you," he hissed, pushing inside in one deep stroke that made you scream. "So fucking wet. So fucking ready. You were made for this cock, baby. Made for me."
Your back arched, a sob tearing from your throat as he bottomed out, stretching you to the brink. The pressure, the fullness — it was overwhelming, and perfect.
"Jay—" you cried, legs trembling.
He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, the sound filthy, obscene, wet. His hips snapped hard against yours, the couch squeaking under the force. He groaned into your neck, voice guttural.
"Fuck, you're so tight. Clenching around me like you never want to let go." He thrust again, harder, your cry muffled against his shoulder. "You're gonna take every inch, baby. Every. Fucking. Inch."
Your wrists twisted under his grip, not to get free but to hold onto him tighter. Tears streaked your face, your lips parted and wet. "Please don't stop," you sobbed.
"Stop?" he snarled, hips pistoning into you, relentless. "You think I could stop? When you're looking at me like this? When you're crying for my cock like you need it to breathe?"
He slammed into you again, the wet slap of skin filling the room. Each thrust hit deeper, rougher, his pace brutal now, and yet — every word from his mouth was still worship.
"You're so good for me. So fucking perfect under me. Taking me like no one else ever could."
Your nails clawed at his forearm, the one holding your wrists pinned. Your body quaked as the coil inside you snapped, orgasm ripping through you so hard you screamed his name like a plea.
"Yes, baby, that's it," Jay growled, pounding you through it, his own thrusts faltering as he chased the edge. "Cum for me. Cry for me. Show me you're mine."
You sobbed, your walls fluttering desperately around him. "I'm yours," you choked out.
His hips slammed one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and he roared against your throat, spilling hot and deep inside you. His whole body trembled as he collapsed over you, breath ragged, sweat damp on his temples.
He kissed your ruined face, your swollen lips, your tear-streaked cheeks. Not slowing, not apologizing. Just pressing every broken kiss into you like he couldn't stop.
"You're mine," he whispered, hoarse and raw. "Every inch of you. Forever."
And this time, you believed him.
_________
The room was silent except for your ragged breaths and the faint creak of the couch beneath you. Jay's body was heavy, warm, pressing you into the cushions — but he hadn't moved, not even to pull out.
He was still buried deep inside you, your walls fluttering weakly around him as the aftershocks passed. Sweat dampened his hairline, his chest rising and falling against yours. His hand loosened around your wrists and slid down to lace your fingers together, grounding you in the gentlest way after everything he'd just given you.
When your blurred eyes finally found his, he was already looking at you.
And God — the look on his face.
Not lust. Not conquest. Just love. Raw and unshakable, spilling out of him without hesitation. His lips curved, slow and soft, into the kind of smile you hadn't seen in months — maybe years. A smile that said I'm here, I'm yours, I'm not going anywhere.
Your chest tightened, tears slipping down your temples. You smiled back through the wetness, mascara smudged, lips swollen, utterly undone but for once not ashamed. Just seen.
Then it hit you — the ridiculousness of both of you, sweaty and wrecked, still joined together, staring at each other like idiots. A laugh bubbled out of your throat before you could stop it.
Jay chuckled too, the sound vibrating through your body. His forehead dropped against yours, and you both laughed into each other's mouths until it turned into soft kisses, into little sighs that tasted like relief.
And before you could think, before the fear could creep in, you whispered it.
"I love you."
The world seemed to pause. His eyes widened, then softened so much it nearly broke you. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your damp skin, and kissed you slow, tender, like he'd been waiting a lifetime to hear it.
"I love you too," he murmured against your lips. "So much. More than I know how to say."
Your laughter turned to tears again, but they were different now — light, free. You kissed him back, clinging to him, your bodies still joined, your hearts finally catching up to what your bodies already knew.
For the first time in forever, the words didn't feel scary. They felt like home.
__________
Campus had always felt too big, too loud, too much. But not now. Not when your hand was laced with Jay's as you crossed the quad, sunlight catching in his hair, his thumb brushing circles into your palm like it had always belonged there.
And everybody knew.
It wasn't some dramatic reveal, just... obvious. The way Jay carried your tote on his shoulder without being asked. The way you leaned into his side as you laughed at something Jake had said. The way Heeseung quietly pushed his coffee toward you when you stole a sip of Jay's, and Jay's eyes softened like she does that to me too.
"Finally," Sunoo said, throwing his hands up as the group collapsed around a table outside the library. "Do you know how painful it was, watching the sexual tension unfold in real time for months? My skin aged."
Ni-ki smirked, balancing his skateboard on his knee. "Bet they still haven't—"
"Shut it," Yunjin snapped, flicking her straw wrapper at him. Then she turned to you, grinning. "Look at you. Glowing. A goddess among mortals. And Jay—" she narrowed her eyes playfully— "if you ever mess this up, I will personally rearrange your bookshelves by size instead of author, and you will cry."
Jay only smiled, squeezing your hand under the table. "Not possible," he said simply. "I'm not letting go."
Laughter rippled through the group, the kind that made your ribs ache, the kind that stitched you further into the fabric of people who saw you and wanted you whole.
But then—
A shadow fell across the table.
Your ex.
The chatter quieted, tension tightening the air. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, that same smug slouch he always wore like armor. His eyes flicked between you and Jay, lingering on your joined hands.
"Well," he said. "Didn't take you long."
Jay's body shifted immediately. His chair scraped, muscles taut, jaw set. You knew that look — the same one he'd worn in the café when he shut your ex down without a second thought. He was ready to stand for you again.
But this time, you touched his arm.
"I've got it," you whispered.
Jay froze, searching your face. You nodded once, calm, certain. He leaned back, reluctantly, eyes never leaving you, every muscle in his body vibrating with protective pride.
You stood. Walked toward your ex with your head high, each step a quiet declaration.
"Don't," you said, voice level but cutting, "pretend you have the right to look surprised. You let me go. You shrugged and walked away, and for months before that, you acted like I was a burden instead of a partner."
His mouth opened, but you didn't give him room.
"You made me small. You gaslit me into thinking my feelings were weaknesses. And for a while, I believed you. But look at me now." You gestured behind you, to the table where your friends sat, to Jay watching you like you were the center of gravity. "I am loved. I am seen. I am safe. All the things you refused to give, I already have."
Your ex scoffed. "So what, now you're perfect?"
You tilted your head, smiling. "No. I'm not perfect. But I'm worth effort. And you never put any in. That's the difference."
Gasps and muffled laughs rippled through the group behind you, but you kept your eyes on him, steady, unflinching.
"You don't get to write the story of me anymore. You had your chance. And you blew it." You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough. "Now go, before you embarrass yourself further."
His face twisted, but he had nothing. No script, no audience. He turned, muttering, retreating across the quad with his shoulders tight.
You exhaled, turned, and walked back to the table.
Jay was on his feet before you reached him. His eyes were wide, burning, his lips parted like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. You sank back into your chair, grabbed your water, and shrugged.
"Handled."
The group erupted in cheers, laughter, high-fives. Yunjin nearly fell off her chair from clapping. Sunoo whispered, "Iconic." Jake fist-bumped the air like you'd just scored the winning goal.
Jay only stared. His chest swelled with something he couldn't contain, something primal and permanent. His hand found yours under the table again, gripping tighter this time. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles in front of everyone, eyes never leaving yours.
And in his head, one thought burned clear, simple, certain:
Fuck. I'm gonna marry her. I want to build her a house, a life, a forever.
His lips curved into a smile that belonged only to you.
And for the first time, you believed forever was possible.
______
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© si3rren 2025. all rights reserved.
god why doesn’t this have more attention i genuinely think this is one of the best fics ive ever read. jay bae i love you. this is exactly how i imagine him as a boyfriend
ㅤㅤWELCOME TO HEESEUNG64'S KINKTOBER MASTERLIST.
❧ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
❧ㅤㅤㅤ NOT ENOUGH, STARRING HEESEUNG. OCTOBER 3RD.
❧ㅤyou hate your brother's best friend. you hate him. you really. really. do. you hate how you can't notice him. you see him in every crowd, find him in every personal space. so what happens when you don't see his face? when you can't recognise who's behind that mask?
❧ㅤㅤㅤ BROTHERS BEST FRIEND GHOSTFACE HEE! x READER!
❧ㅤㅤㅤ WEB OF LIES, FEATURING JAY. OCTOBER 16TH.
❧ㅤif you don’t unmask spiderman soon, you’ll lose your mind. it isn’t justice you’re after, but exposure; pushing him into the harsh light so that you, silk, can vanish into the dark.
❧ㅤㅤㅤ SPIDERMAN JAY! x SILK READER!
❧ㅤㅤㅤ SECRET, SECRETS, STARRING JAKE. OCTOBER 5TH.
❧ㅤyour colleague constantly belittles you. throws you around like you're not enough to fight back. he hates the favour of the uppermen you have. you hate the popularity he uses in his favour. so when you're put in a project, let into his own personal things, why do you see yourself in everything?
❧ㅤㅤㅤ YANDERE JAKE! X READER
❧ㅤㅤㅤ NO HIDING, FEATURING SUNGHOON. OCTOBER 20TH.
❧ㅤyour friends push halloween to the edge. mansions rented, cemeteries claimed. the woods turned into haunted playgrounds. hide-and-seek becomes your yearly purge, binding awkward acquaintances into friends. but there’s always one seeker you can’t stand. this year, what if you can’t escape him?
❧ㅤㅤㅤ COLLEGE 'FRIEND' HOON! X READER
❧ㅤㅤㅤ ????. NOVEMBER 1ST.
❧ㅤ ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
❧ㅤㅤㅤ ?????????????
perms.
@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas @hoonieyun @jellyluv4eva @wheretheheckis-ssaki @hyukabeanie @gxwesn @tojiworshipper @wonuziex @jaerisdiction @luhvletters @hoon2f4ded @enhanoa @ikeu05 @tokkisluv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @p--j--s--j @ilovhoonie @laylasbunbunny
yall aren’t as excited about this as i am
