Lhazlhuo

⋮ ⌗ ┆᭙᥅ﺃꪻﺃꪀᧁ ꪖᥴᥴꪮꪊꪀꪻ⋆ ‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[lhazlhuo]

꒰੭ﾟ@ꪶꫝꪖɀꪶꫝꪊꪮ ’ᦓ ﺃꪀꪻ᥅ꪮᦔꪊᥴꪻﺃꪮꪀ 𑁯 🌱 ﾟ ꒱

꒰🍵 ⊹ ˚ . 𝟏𝟗+ ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰🧩꒱ ♡ ･ ✧ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫

🍡˖ / 🍮 ꒰ 𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 ꒱ ᘏ (🍀) . ˚◞🍼꒱

𖥦 ✧ ˚ ࿔ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭!! · ˚ * ୨୧

୭🍏᧙ ﺃ ꪑꪖﺃꪀꪶꪗ ᭙᥅ﺃꪻꫀ ᦓꪑꪊꪻ. ᜣꪶꫀꪖᦓꫀ ꪑᦔꪀﺃ. ₊ ⠀⃝🧃

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦ ꪶꫝꪖɀꪶꫝꪊꪮ’ᦓ ꪑꪖᦓꪻꫀ᥅ꪶﺃᦓꪻ ˚ ⸝⸝ . ﹒

 

⊹ ᨘ໑▸ 🍵 𖥻 HEESEUNG ˑ 𖦹 🍮

𝜗𝜚♯┆ꪻꫝꫀ ꪖ᥅ꪻ ꪮᠻ ꪻꫀꪑᜣꪻꪖꪻﺃꪮꪀ .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

⊹ ᨘ໑▸ 🍵 𖥻 JONGSEONGˑ 𖦹 🍮

𝜗𝜚♯┆ᥴꪮꪑ꠸ꪀᧁ ᦓꪮꪮꪀ .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

⊹ ᨘ໑▸ 🍵 𖥻 JAEYUNˑ 𖦹 🍮

𝜗𝜚♯┆ᥴꪮꪑ꠸ꪀᧁ ᦓꪮꪮꪀ .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

⊹ ᨘ໑▸ 🍵 𖥻 SUNGHOONˑ 𖦹 🍮

𝜗𝜚♯┆ꪻꫝꫀ ꪊꪀᠻꪮ᥅ꫀᦓꫀꫀꪀ ᛕﺃᦓᦓ .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

[lhazlhuo]

I’m actually planning to write a reader x choosen male lead fantasy novel inspired by manhwas but I was thinking if I should write it here or in Wattpad instead?

If ever I did start writing it, who do you think would be more fitting to be the main lead?

Heeseung

Jay

Jake

Sunghoon

Voting ended onJun 25

[lhazlhuo]

So we finally got the results, thank you for those who voted, it really helped me out a lot! I had anticipated this and thought Sunghoon would be more fitting for the role 👀 so I’m glad he won, but don’t worry! We have all the members included with their roles too! And since Heeseung got the second highest vote, I’ll be making him the second lead. Stay tuned!

[lhazlhuo]

I’m actually planning to write a reader x choosen male lead fantasy novel inspired by manhwas but I was thinking if I should write it here or in Wattpad instead?

If ever I did start writing it, who do you think would be more fitting to be the main lead?

Heeseung

Jay

Jake

Sunghoon

Voting ended onJun 25

[lhazlhuo]

—♯┆박성훈 .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

𝜗𝜚♯┆ꪻꫝꫀ ꪊꪀᠻꪮ᥅ꫀᦓꫀꫀꪀ ᛕﺃᦓᦓ .ᐟ༉‧₊˚

ᦏ᪔ husbandsbrother!sunghoon x in-law!reader

ᦏ᪔ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Feeling restless and longing for a deeper connection, a shy housewife seeks advice on reigniting her married sex life, hoping her husband will finally open up to her desires. She devises a subtle plan to create a moment of intimacy, only to realize too late that she’s been kissing her husband's brother instead. Now, caught between her feelings and the unexpected situation.

ᦏ᪔ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Vulgar words, talking about married sex life, f watching pørn to learn, messy kissing, tension build up, accidental (?) cheating, clit rubbing, pussy eating, unprotected sex, MDNI and lemme know if there’s more.

ᦏ᪔ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8𝐊

ᦏ᪔ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: (Skip if u want, this is a long one) So a lot of things had happened during this week, my neice’s school terrorized after police fired shots at a criminal inside the school that somehow managed to get inside the elementary school of my niece and yes the kids are safe dw, we immediately went to get her too and so did the other parents. My older brother’s gf got hospitalized for dengue then, my brother also getting a high fever so I have to take care of him, yesterday I also (almost) burned the entirety of my right hand after holding a glass cup and pouring hot water that I immediately put down the floor as some of the water got on to my hands causing me to delay this post to recover 🫪 but my hand’s perfectly fine now tho no severe burn or anything and I’m so free so, here it is! And thank you, thank you for the 9 followers I’ve gained, they might seem not much but to me oh IT IS THAT MUCH I’m so greatful to y’all! You can comment down if you wanna be on my tag list for every one shot I post. Enjoy reading!

ᦏ᪔ 𝐋𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐥𝐡𝐮𝐨’𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

Being married to the most simplest man had worn you down, piece by piece. The days blurred into a monotonous routine, and beneath it all, a restless ache for something more. You loved your husband, truly, you did. But every time you tried to bridge the widening gap between you, he recoiled, shy and uncertain, as if the mere thought of intimacy was a taboo. His cheeks would flush crimson, eyes darting away like a frightened child, hiding behind a veil of innocence that felt almost too fragile for this world. And you, a bored housewife, left longing for connection, for passion, for a spark to ignite what felt like a dying ember.

As you sat across from Sunoo at your favorite café, the soft hum of chatter and clinking cups filling the background. He was casually sipping his matcha latte, green, frothy, and perfectly Instagram-worthy while you fidgeted with your spoon, feeling a little nervous about what I was about to say.

“So,” You started, voice lowering a bit, “I just feel like he’s purposely avoiding me about... you know, sex. Like, I don’t know. It’s been like forever, and it’s starting to feel weird. I mean, it’s normal for married couples, right?”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip from his latte, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to gauge how serious you were. “First of all,” he said, voice flat but amused, “Ew. Why would you bring that up? But...” he paused dramatically, “Whatever, yeah. Couples do it. More often than you think. Like, more than most married couples even bother counting.”

You blinked, feeling a little embarrassed but also desperate for answers. “But still, he’s a man… shouldn’t he be the one to, I don’t know, initiate it? Or make a move?”

Sunoo snorted, shaking his head like You’d just said something utterly ridiculous. “Oh my gosh,” he said, voice dripping with mockery. “That’s why you’re almost celibate all your life, isn’t it? You just wait around for him to do the magic? Do you even know how this works? Or are you just sitting there thinking he’s some sort of shy virgin?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “He’s always been kinda shy since college. Super reserved, you know? And he’s a gentleman... But I didn’t think he’d be the kind to...” You hesitated, feeling a little awkward “To actually have the balls to do it...”

Sunoo’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock, like you’d just dropped the most scandalous secret of the century. “Wait. You’re telling me, you and him are basically virgins?” He leaned forward, eyes wide with mock horror. “No way. That’s honestly kind of adorable, but also… kind of tragic?”

You blushed, heat rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not like that. We’ve kissed before, and I guess we’ve done some makeouts… but never... you know, the actual thing.”

He looked at you like you’d just admitted to some ancient, forbidden curse. “Oh my god,” he said, voice full of dramatic disbelief. “You two are virgins? No wonder you’re both so awkward about it. If I were you, I’d do some research. Like, check out some porn sites or something. You can learn a lot from those—”

“That’s disgusting, Sunoo,” You cut him off, cringing. “I would never—”

He just shrugged, smirking like he’d just delivered the greatest wisdom of all time. “Hey, your life, your rules. But seriously, if he’s not showing any signs of making a move, maybe you should take matters into your own hands. You know, do some homework. Better to be prepared, right?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “That’s gross. No way I’m doing that. Besides, I don’t think it’s that simple. I mean, I don’t want to force him or make him uncomfortable—”

Sunoo waved a hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m just saying, sometimes you gotta take the lead. Maybe he’s waiting for a sign, or maybe he’s just clueless. Either way, you should talk to him. Or, I dunno, drop hints. Or wear something sexy. Or—” he grinned “—just do the research yourself. It’s the 21st century, girl. No shame in learning a thing or two.”

You rolled your eyes again, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’re impossible, Sunoo.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, clearly proud of himself. “What can I say? I’m just looking out for you. Besides, it’s better to be prepared. That way, when the moment comes—”

“Which it probably won’t,” You interrupted, laughing despite yourself, “I’ll be ready.”

Both of you burst into laughter, the awkward tension dissolving into a comfortable haze of friendship. For now, at least, you felt a little lighter. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers, but at least you had Sunoo’s ridiculous advice to keep you sane.

The next morning, you found yourself instinctively searching for those kind of videos Sunoo had suggested. You knew it was stupid, embarrassing even, but you couldn’t help it. It was like some weird subconscious urge, like you were trying to figure out if you’re missing something, if you were maybe doing it wrong. Honestly, it was probably the most lurid, disgustingly dirty thing you’d ever seen on your laptop, but somehow, that didn’t stop you from craving more.

It’s normal, right? Married couples should be able to figure this stuff out, at least, even if it meant watching the most scandalous videos you could find just to get some ideas. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

The sun had just risen, you were hunched over the laptop in a panic, trying to hide the screen behind the open tab of a cooking website, when you suddenly heard his footsteps approaching. Your heart jumped into your throat.

A low, sultry moan floated from the speakers of your laptop, an audio clip you’d forgotten to mute. Your eyes widened in horror, and you scrambled to click the “X” button, hurriedly shutting down the browser. You felt your cheeks turn hot, like flames licking up your face, as if you’d been caught doing something truly heinous.

“Oh shit,” You muttered under my breath, voice trembling slightly. You couldn’t believe you’d just been listening to that out loud, what must he think?

Just then, Jungwon’s footsteps paused at the kitchen doorway. You froze, clutching your phone in my hands like a shield.

He looked at you, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read your expression. You had no idea what he was thinking, was he suspicious? Curious? Confused?

“Are you… heading to work?” You asked, voice too high-pitched and defensive, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. You had argument the other day but that didn’t matter today as you could feel more of that shame almost burning holes on your face as you quickly closed the laptop lid, pretending you’d been doing something innocent.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was the most suspicious thing in the world. “Uh, yeah. Early presentation today, honey. Just getting ready,” he said, voice measured but with a hint of suspicion. Despite your argument the other day he had never really forgotten to call you by that nickname.

He paused, eyeing you a little more closely. “What was that sound just now?” His tone was quiet but sharp, like he’d caught a whiff of something off.

You stomach clenched. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, burning hotter with every second. You felt like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, something shameful, embarrassing, a secret you weren’t supposed to have.

“W-what sound?” You blurted out, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just looking for some new… recipes on YouTube,” You stammered, desperation creeping into your tone. “You know, for dinner tonight. Yeah, I was browsing the app—”

He looked at me skeptically, lips twitching into what I could only interpret as a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Then he leaned in slightly, giving me a look that said, ‘Really?’

You could feel the blood rush to your face. You must have looked like a guilty teenager caught sneaking snacks after curfew.

He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek despite the recent argument he had always been a gentleman... Too gentle, soft but soemhow dismissive, as if he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it today. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you later,” he said, grabbing his bag and jacket.

“Bye,” You managed, voice trembling slightly as you watched him walk out the door. The moment passed, but you felt a faint blush lingering on your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and relief.

As soon as you heard the door close behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still pounding. You reached for your laptop, ready to delete the history, but part of you wondered... Did he suspect anything? Or were you just overthinking it? Either way, you knew you should be more careful next time.

☆◜ ͡ ◝◞◟ ͜ ◞ 𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥◞◜ ͡ ◝𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥 ◜ ͡ ◝

Tonight, after that argument the other day, after the words left bitterly unspoken and the early morning’s embarrassing and awkward moment, you had decided. No more waiting. You would make a move. Perhaps, just perhaps, tonight would be different. Maybe this time, he would see you not as just the wife he married but as the woman still yearning to be loved, to be desired.

You spent hours preparing the house, transforming your humble space into a sanctuary of intimacy. The lights were dimmed to a soft glow, shadows dancing across the walls. You scattered delicate rose petals across the floor, their crimson hue a stark contrast against the dark wooden floorboards, leading a trail toward your bedroom like a secret invitation. Candles flickered softly, their warm glow casting golden halos and gentle shadows that flickered with every breath. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla and jasmine, mingling with the faint aroma of burning wax.

On the table, a glass of fine red wine sat beside a crystal glass, waiting patiently for you. You poured yourself a glass, the rich, velvety liquid catching the candlelight as you swirled it gently before taking a slow sip. The taste was smooth, intoxicating, much like the anticipation curling in your stomach.

You chose your outfit carefully, more like you chose to strip away layers of modesty. You slipped into a thin, silk night dress that clung to your curves, almost transparent in the dim light. The fabric was so delicate that it felt like a whisper against your skin, barely there. The lacey underwear beneath was intricate, revealing just enough, with your nipples almost peeking out above the fabric, tempting and vulnerable. Your reflection in the mirror showed a woman transformed, seductive, nervous, but determined.

Standing in front of the mirror, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your hips. You wondered if he’d recognize this version of you, the bold, daring, hungry for more than just routine woman. Would he see you as the woman who dared to break free from her boredom, even if just for tonight?

Quietly, you moved through the house, your bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Every step was a small act of rebellion, a declaration that tonight was about reclaiming what had been lost, passion, intimacy, a part of yourself that had been buried beneath years of duty.

Finally, you reached the hallway near the living room where you had prepared the table. You paused for a moment, heart pounding like a drum in your chest, listening for any sign of him. The room was dark, save for the flickering candlelight that cast long, mysterious shadows across the space. You took another steadying breath, then stepped inside the living room.

The sight before you made your heart flutter, him, sitting on the edge of the couch, unaware of your presence. His shoulders were tense, head bowed, lost in thought. The room was dark, the flickering candle light from the distance didn't even reach where you were. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if this was the right moment, if he was ready.

But then you moved, slowly, deliberately, closing the distance between you. You reached out, fingertips gently tracing his jawline before you sat on his lap, kissing his neck slowly, you thought he’d recoil like he always do when you show him a little bit of intimacy of a married couple but he seemed to just stay put on the couch, didn't even touch you nor make any sound.

“Love...” You whispered, almost needily as if making up for the argument the other day or just plainly leaning in, craving his touch. Your hands found his shoulders, and you pressed your lips to his, trying to pull him closer. But he remained still, unresponsive, his body stiff beneath your fingertips.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. You huffed, leaning in again for a kiss, this time biting his lip just a little harder, hoping to get some reaction. A low, deep groan escaped him, more intense than you had ever heard before. Maybe you had finally turned him on. You smirked to yourself, feeling a strange sense of victory.

But as you leaned in again for another kiss, the atmosphere suddenly shifted.

“So this is how you welcome guests now?”

The voice cut through the air like a knife. Your stomach clenched, and your eyes widened in shock.

You froze, mind racing. That voice, cold, rough, and so familiar was impossible. You looked at him through the dark, the flickering candle light from the distance made you finally see his face despite the dark.

Your breath caught in your throat. How could you have been so wrong? You thought you were kissing Jungwon, your husband, and now you were caught in a tangled mess with his brother sitting there with you on his lap shamelessly, silent, eyes dark and unreadable.

The realization hit you like a slap, your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and your body tenses instinctively. You instinctively pushed away from Sunghoon scrambling back on the couch.

“S-sunghoon?” You managed, voice trembling, eyes wide with panic and confusion.

As your back hit the wall where the light switch were on you finally saw him, gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.

“Is this how you greet family now?” he asked again, voice low, almost taunting, as if he already knew but wanted to hear me admit it.

Your mind spun, trying to find words, anything that could explain the scene, justify what had just happened. But all you could do was stand there, trembling, caught between shock and shame, realizing how badly you misjudged the moment, and who you were really with.

“I-I didn’t know...” you muttered in embarrassment, your hand gripping the edge of your thin night dress.

“Of course you wouldn’t, I suppose you were preparing something for your husband, huh?” You wanted the floor to just swallow you right there and then embarrassed by what you did.

“I came in, the door was opened. I didn’t expect I’d be greeted with such... Intimacy from my younger brother’s... innocent wife.” He was saying the ‘innocent wife’ sound so sinful to me as if I did some crime.

“I didn’t mean to—”

"I know you didn't," Sunghoon interrupted, his voice cutting through your stammered explanation like a blade through silk. He set the glass down on the table with a controlled click. "That is precisely the point."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his posture shifting from relaxed to something far more attentive. The movement brought him closer to you again, the shadow of his frame stretching across the floor toward your feet.

"If you had known, you wouldn't have kissed me."

The statement was delivered without accusation, just a cold, undeniable fact. He watched you closely, his eyes tracking the way your shoulders hunched, the way you tried to make yourself smaller in that short dress.

"But you did. You sat on my lap. You kissed my neck. You kissed my lips." He paused, his gaze heavy and unblinking. "And you didn't stop until I spoke."

That made you tighten your grip on the edge of your thin dress, you didn't know if it was embarrassment or were you curious for something he might say next.

Sunghoon didn't miss the way your knuckles whitened against the fabric. He didn't miss the way your eyes lingered on him, caught between the urge to flee and the instinct to stay.

"You're curious," he stated. It wasn't a question. His voice was low, almost a vibration in the quiet room.

Sunghoon stood up slowly walking up towards you, his steps measured and deliberate. He stopped directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the fine texture of his suit, the slight glint of his expensive leather watch.

"Most people would be running for the door right now, too embarrased to face the man after what just happened" he said, his voice dropping even lower. "But you're still standing here."

"L-look, if you're offended or something I-I’m sorry I didn't really mean to-"

"Offended?" Sunghoon let out a short, dry sound, not quite a laugh, but something close to it. "I don't get offended. I get results."

He reached out, his hand closing around your waist. It wasn't a gentle touch, but it wasn't rough either. His grip was firm, possessive, pulling you just an inch closer than you were comfortable with. His thumb pressed into the soft curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your night dress.

"You're apologizing for something you clearly wanted to do," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips again before rising back to her eyes. "That's dishonest. And I have very little patience for dishonesty."

His other hand came up, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with agonizing slowness, his touch cool and steady.

"The question isn't whether you meant to kiss me," he continued, his thumb tracing the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward his. "The question is whether you'll do it again now that you know exactly who I am."

His eyes were dark, unreadable pools of intensity. He wasn't asking for permission, he was presenting a choice, one he already knew how to manipulate. The air between them was thick, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with the romantic decorations scattered around the room.

"Jungwon doesn't want you," he said, his voice dropping to a level so low it was almost a murmur against her skin. "He doesn't want this house, he doesn't want these candles, and he certainly doesn't want you standing here in a dress like this."

“What... what are you—” His hand at your waist tightened slightly, pulling you a fraction closer until the heat of his body was unmistakable.

You almost held your breath at that, swallowing nervously. You tried to say something but it seemed like your mind seemed to short circuited as you were left speechless as starinh at his eyes filled with curiosity and maybe... Anticipation as your heart beat loudly on your chest. You didn't know if it's because you’re nervous or were you really anticipating something more...?

Sunghoon watched you closely. He saw the way your throat moved as you swallowed, the way your chest rose and fell with increasingly shallow breaths. He saw the conflict in your eyes, the confusion, the hesitation, and something else he couldn't quite name but could certainly feel.

His thumb continued its slow, methodical path along your jawline, a gesture that was far too intimate for a man who was supposedly just a brother-in-law.

"Your heart is racing," he noted, his voice barely audible. He didn't move his hand from your jaw. "I can feel it on your neck.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek making your face flush. He didn't kiss you, at least not yet. He simply lingered there, occupying the space you had been trying to give to someone else.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Silence is often more honest than words."

Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours making you feel small and vulnerable against him. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, the frantic thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips. It was a delicious sort of power to stand this close to someone and watch them unravel without ever having to lift a finger.

"You're waiting for me to move," he said, his voice smooth and certain. "Waiting for me to either push you away or pull you closer."

He released his hold on your waist, but his hand on your jaw remained, his thumb now brushing against the corner of your lower lip. The contact was light, almost teasing, yet it carried an underlying tension that made the entire room feel smaller.

"But I'm not going to make that decision for you," he added.

He stepped back just enough to give her room, but not enough to break the connection. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the edge of the table she had so carefully prepared.

“I... I don’t know...” You muttered almost in whisper, torned about wanting to push him away because it all felt wrong knowing he’s my husband’s brother or pull him closer to see where it leads us.

"I know," he replied, his voice flat and devoid of judgment. "Honesty is rare in this family. You might as well start practicing it now."

Sunghoon reached for the wine bottle again, pouring a dark stream into the glass you had prepared for your husband. The liquid caught the candlelight as it flowed, a deep crimson that matched the rose petals scattered on the table. He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving your face over the rim of the glass.

"You don't know if you want me to walk out that door or if you want me to stay," he said, setting the glass down. "And that's perfectly fine. Uncertainty is where the most interesting things happen."

He straightened up, his silhouette tall and imposing against the dim light of the room. He didn't move toward you again, but he didn't move away either. He simply existed in you space, a constant, demanding presence.

"So," he continued, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register again. "What will it be? Do you want me to leave you alone with your memories of a man who isn't here, or do you want to find out why your heart is beating like that?"

He didn't press you further. He stood there, waiting, his expression as unreadable as a blank slate. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the fine silk of his shirt.

The silence stretched. A candle flickered on the table, its flame dying down as it burned low, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Outside, the distant sound of a car passing by was the only thing breaking the stillness of the night.

Sunghoon watched you, his dark eyes tracking every micro-expression, every tremor of your hands.

You didn’t know what has gotten to you when you walked towards him before looking up at him almost as if pleading him to do something and before you knew it you had tiptoed to reach his lips.

Every part of you screamed at you about what were you doing? Why were you kissing him like this, nasty, rough, and including your tongue you didn’t even know how to use.

The moment your lips meet his, Sunghoon's entire body stiffens, frozen in place as if time itself has paused. For a single, breathless heartbeat, he seems nothing more than a statue, cold and unmoving, his hands still resting on your waist and spine, as if holding himself back.

Then, suddenly, his hands move with purpose, sharp and deliberate. One slides from your back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, anchoring you exactly where he wants you. The other presses firmly into the small of your back, pulling your body flush against his, leaving no space between you.

The kiss is thorough, commanding, almost possessive as if he’s marking territory long ago claimed but never relinquished. He pulls back just enough to press his lips against the corner of your mouth, his breath hot and uneven for the first time that night, a raw edge to his voice.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game,” Sunghoon rasps, rougher than before, edged with something primal, a hunger that’s been simmering beneath his calm exterior. His words are a warning, a threat, a promise.

He doesn’t wait for your response.

His mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck, lips pressing down hard, a silent demand for you to stay exactly where you are. His teeth graze your collarbone, a fleeting, sharp sensation that sends a shock through your entire body.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your skin, voice vibrating through you like a tremor. “Say it now, and I’ll walk out that door. I won’t mention this to Jungwon. I won’t touch you again. Just say the word.”

Your breath catches. Your heart pounds. But the words don’t come. Instead, you feel your body betray you, a trembling surrender, a fragile, trembling “I... I can’t…”

Sunghoon’s eyes darken as he looks at you in the near darkness, his grip at your neck tightening just enough to remind you who’s in control. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the message clear, this is his moment, and you’re not walking away. Not yet.

“Good,” he whispers, almost lost against the curve of your lips. The word hangs there, heavy with meaning.

He lifts you effortlessly, his strength unspoken but undeniable, as he hooks an arm beneath your thighs and the other behind your back, pulling you up until your legs wrap around his waist. His strides are deliberate, unhurried, and steady, each step a silent assertion of dominance as he carries you toward the bedroom.

He sets you down on the edge of the bed, your shadow cast over you like a shroud. He doesn’t join you immediately. Instead, he stands there, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs with slow, precise movements, never once breaking eye contact.

“This changes everything,” Sunghoon says quietly, his voice regaining its calm, measured tone, calm on the surface, but with an undercurrent of something darker beneath.

And then, stillness.

Suddenly, his hands tighten on you, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as he finally leans in, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that leaves no doubt that this is no longer a game of restraint. It’s a hunger that’s been simmering long before tonight.

It’s an answer, heavy, demanding, and unmistakably his.

You watch him carefully, noticing how your eyes track the way his hands move, deliberate and confident. You catch the flush creeping up your chest, the way your breathing quickens, uneven. You bite your lip, feeling the heat rise despite the cold air conditioning.

Damn, he looks dangerous right now, intense, commanding, and almost feral. When you and Jungwon used to make out, you’d still crave more, but he never quite gave you that satisfaction. Always too busy, always shy, always dismissive, never enough. And now? The memory of Sunghoon’s lips earlier, how they made you feel something wet pooling between your legs, embarrasses you, but the heat is more overwhelming. You’re trembling inside, waiting for him to make his move.

Sunghoon notices every little detail, the way your eyes flicker to his hands, the way your cheeks flush, the way your breathing deepens and quickens. He sees the nervousness, the subtle shiver in your skin. Without hesitation, he finishes unbuttoning his cuffs with precise, controlled movements.

Then, he moves closer, kneeling between your legs as you sit on the edge of the bed, filling the space around you with his presence. The air thickens.

“You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a man before,” he says, his voice low, steady, almost predatory. His hand slides up your thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress. “Or like you’re starving for something you’ve been denied.”

His fingers trail higher, slow and deliberate, testing the tension in your muscles, making you feel the weight of his gaze and his touch.

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a slow, dangerous smirk, the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him tonight. It’s not kind. It’s hungry. It’s the expression of a man who’s just been handed exactly what he’s been craving for a long time.

“M-maybe,” you murmured, almost breathlessly.

“That’s a good answer.”

His hand presses higher, palm flat against your thigh, the heat radiating through the silk of your dress. He leans forward, face mere inches from yours, his dark eyes burning with a fierce intensity that makes the room feel like it’s shrinking around you.

“A year,” he whispers, his thumb tracing small, agonizing circles on your skin. “A year of waiting, waiting for a man who doesn’t realize what’s right in front of him. That’s a waste I can’t accept.”

His free hand brushes the hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, a gentle yet possessive gesture.

You feel it, the wetness down your legs, the undeniable arousal. Why? Why are you feeling this way? You’re starved, craving something you’ve only just begun to taste, and it’s overwhelming. The thin dress you’re wearing, meant to be Jungwon’ surprise, does little to hide the heat radiating from your skin. You’re not wearing a bra, just your lingerie underwear, and even though it should be cold, why does it suddenly feel so much hotter?

You’re trembling, exposed, vulnerable. And yet, you’re more alive than you’ve felt in a long time, caught in this moment, craving what’s to come.

His hand slides higher, fingers hooking into the edge of your lingerie, but he doesn’t pull it down. Instead, he holds it there, a taut, invisible wire stretched between his knuckles and your skin, electric and delicate.

“Do you want me to stop?” Sunghoon’s voice is low, almost a whisper. This is the third time he’s given you an out, and each time, he’s made it clear he doesn’t expect you to take it. Not now.

His other hand finds your waist, thumb tracing the dip of your hip bone through the thin fabric of your dress. He studies you intently, reading every tremor, every blush, every shallow breath as if mapping your body, memorizing what makes you tremble.

“You’re trembling again,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Is that fear? Or something else?”

You almost whisper back, “Don’t stop… please...” your voice breathless, trembling, desperate. You can feel your nipples peeking through the fabric, your body responding despite yourself. You bite your lip lightly, trying to hide how much he’s already unraveling you.

Sunghoon’s eyes darken, the intensity in his gaze sharpening. That raw, desperate plea, your surrender is all he needs to move.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, almost a husky promise.

Without rushing, his hand shifts with purpose, sliding the thin fabric of your dress up past your hips. His movements are controlled, deliberate, but there’s an undeniable hunger behind each one. Sunghoon’s fingers find the lace edge of your lingerie, and with one smooth, sure pull, he eases it down before throwing it somewhere in the room.

The cool air hits your skin, sharp and sudden, but it’s immediately replaced by the searing heat of his stare. Sunghoon doesn’t look away. His eyes trail every inch of the skin now revealed, devouring you in silence.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, almost a whisper, but enough to make your heart stutter. For the first time, there’s something other than cold calculation in his voice. It’s not warmth, it was far from it but it’s an acknowledgment, a subtle recognition of the power you hold in this moment.

His hand returns, palm flat against your thigh as he leans forward just enough. His fingers trail upward, slow and agonizingly deliberate, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh until they reach the edge of your lingerie.

He watches your face, studying every flicker of sensation, the way your muscles tighten, the way your breathing hitches under his touch.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” His voice is low, steady, almost conversational, despite the thick tension between you.

His thumb brushes the lace, a feather-light caress that makes your breath catch. You can feel the dampness you’re already feeling, the heat radiating from your core, and it only seems to sharpen his focus.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, locking eyes with you. “How long has it been since someone actually looked at you, really looked at you like I do?”

“C-can’t remember” You replied almost breathlessly. “Then let me remind you,” he said, his voice dropping into something darker, something that promised he would not be easily forgotten.

Sunghoon’s hand moved. It wasn't a tentative touch anymore. His fingers pressed firmly against you, finding the exact point of your arousal, your clit through the damp lace of your lingerie. He didn't move immediately, he simply held you there, his thumb applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that made your hips lift involuntarily toward him.

"You don't have to remember," he murmured, leaning down until his lips were brushing your ear. "I will make sure you never forget again."

His mouth traveled from your ear down to the sensitive line of your jaw, his breath hot and deliberate against your skin.

“P-please...”

Sunghoon didn't need to be told twice. The word, broken and breathless, was the only thing he required.

His fingers moved with a sudden, commanding rhythm on your clit. He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't rough either, he was precise, each movement calculated to elicit the exact reaction he wanted. He watched your face as he did it, his dark eyes tracking the way your head fell back, the way your lips parted in a silent cry.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, steady anchor in the storm of sensation he was creating. "Just like that."

He leaned forward, his mouth finding yours again, but this time the kiss was different. It wasn't a question. It was a claim. He tasted your desperation, your need, and he met it with a hunger of his own that he had long ago learned to keep tightly under control.

Then with an increasing force you felt yourself almost exploding in pleasure then when it happened, he didn’t stop until his fingers were coated by your juices.

“You came with just me rubbing my thumb on your clit, what a naughty girl...” It almost sound like a praise yet mocking at the same time, it somehow made you arouse again and before you could utter a response, he had already put both of your legs on each side of his shoulder and without saying anything, his mouth diving in towards your sensitive hole full of your juices.

You tried to back away or close your legs due to overstimulation but he didn’t let you as he continued eating you out, switching from licking and sucking down your clit making you arch on to him as he quickened his pace until you finally climaxed once again.

After coming down from your second orgasm, he wasn’t really done as he had unbuttoned his button-down shirt, throwing it across the room before he unbuckled his belt.

You didn’t know what to do but when he climbed up the bed and took your wrist, you knew what he was trying to do. He was trying his belt around your wrist like the one’s you’ve seen in those porn sites you have watched earlier that day. When he’s done he went to remove his remaining clothes leaving him naked on top of you, his cock sprung out free, veiny, long, hard, and already leaking pre-cum.

Without saying anything he thrusted his length inside you in one smooth, powerful thrust, filling you as you moaned and tried to touch him but can’t because his other hand was holding your bound wrist up while the other was on your hips.

A low groan escaped his throat, his forehead dropping against yours as he took a moment to adjust to the overwhelming heat of your pussy. His hand gripped your hips so tightly his knuckles turned white, anchoring you to him.

"You're so tight," Sunghoon rasped, his breath ragged against your skin.

Sunghoon began to move. It wasn't the frantic, desperate pace of someone lost to impulse, it was measured, deep, and devastatingly thorough. Each thrust was deliberate, a slow withdrawal followed by a heavy, driving push that forced a gasp from your lungs.

"Look at me," he commanded again, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "I want you to remember exactly who is doing this to you."

His hands slid from your hips to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he picked up the pace. The bed creaked beneath both of you, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart against your chest. He watched your face, the way your eyes rolled back, the way your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and felt a surge of something far more dangerous than simple lust.

It was possession.

"Jungwon doesn't deserve you," he muttered against your lips, his words rough and jagged. “Jungwon, doesn’t deserve this tight pussy.”

Sunghoon’s pace quickened, the measured control beginning to fray at the edges. His breath came in short, sharp exhales, his jaw clenched so tight a vein pulsed at his temple. Every time he drove into you, he felt the way your body clung to him, desperate and unyielding.

"He doesn't even know how to touch you like this," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl. "Does he?"

“N-no, he doesn't—”

Sunghoon’s movements became a blur of heat and friction, his body a heavy, relentless weight that demanded everything she had left to give as you said that. He could feel your walls contracting around him, a rhythmic pulsing that drove Sunghoon closer to the edge than he had ever been in his life.

"(Your name)," he breathed your name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

His grip on your hands tightened, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of her wrists. He leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and drowning, swallowing your moans as his pace reached a fever pitch.

"Hold on to me," he commanded against your lips, his voice breaking for the first time.

The world narrowed down to the point where their bodies met, to the sound of their colliding breath and the frantic beat of two hearts working in dangerous unison.

He didn't wait for an answer. He gripped your hands again, pinning them above her head, and leaned down to bite lightly at the curve of your shoulder. The sting made you gasp, and the sound only fed his hunger.

"You belong here," Sunghoon murmured against her skin, his movements becoming more forceful, more primal. "In this room. With me."

His eyes were dark, almost void-like, as he watched her unravel beneath him. As you finally reach your climax he thrusted a few more times before he filled you with his seeds.

For a moment, you both stayed unmoving and panting, tangled at each other before he pulls out and drop down beside you, his arms finding your waist to pull you closer to him.

You could feel Sunghoon’s bare torso behind you before he pulled you to face you, meeting his eyes burning into yours with a dangerous intensity. "So, what do you think he’d do if your husband found out?" He leans in slightly, voice low and taunting.

"Would he even recognize you anymore? Or would you be someone completely different?"

A tense silence falls.

"Some secrets are better kept buried," he murmurs, a sly smile curling his lips.

"Because once they come out… everything you thought you knew about yourself could change." He pauses, eyes narrowing.

"And trust me, this isn’t the end. Not really."

[lhazlhuo]

I’m writing something on my drafts, just that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post it today since I’ll be the unpaid babysitter of my niece today and she requires a lot of attention since she’s just a 1 year old girl. Hope she doesn’t cry on me and hope I’ll have enough patience to go through today. 😆

[lhazlhuo]

—♯┆이희승 .ᐟ ༉‧₊˚. ☆

𝜗𝜚♯┆ꪻꫝꫀ ꪖ᥅ꪻ ꪮᠻ ꪻꫀꪑᜣꪻꪖꪻﺃꪮꪀ .ᐟ༉‧₊˚

ᦏ᪔ artist!heeseung x artmodel!reader

ᦏ᪔ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: What started as a simple nude art commission unexpectedly spiraled into an unforgettable night of passion, where trust and desire intertwined in a moment neither both of you saw coming.

ᦏ᪔ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Nude art, clit play, tit play/sucking, slight calling of pet names, unprotected sex, position, backshot, MDNI. Let me know if there’s more.

ᦏ᪔ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3𝐊

ᦏ᪔ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Okay this is the first smut I’ve written, I might’ve made this a little longer but give me your thoughts after reading it. Thank you!

ᦏ᪔ 𝐋𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐥𝐡𝐮𝐨’𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

College had completely wrecked your finances.

Between tuition fees, rent, groceries, textbooks, and the endless list of expenses that seemed to appear out of nowhere, you were barely staying afloat. Every month felt like a battle to keep your bank account from hitting zero.

And lately, you weren't even winning.

"The tuition deadline's next week, right?"

Jake's voice cut through the silence of the room.

It was nearly midnight. Empty snack wrappers littered the coffee table while your half-finished project sat open on your laptop. The two of you had been working for hours, though "working" was a generous term considering how often Jake got distracted.

You didn't even look up, sighing. "Unfortunately." You muttered as Jake leaned back in his chair. "You got the money ready?" That finally made you pause. A bitter laugh escaped your lips.

"Nope."

Jake winced.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

You dropped your pen onto the table and rubbed your temples. The words tasted bitter.

Because the truth was you were exhausted. Exhausted from calculating expenses every night. Exhausted from pretending everything was fine whenever your classmates talked about vacations, shopping trips, and weekend plans. Exhausted from checking your account balance before buying something as simple as a sandwich.

You hated money. Or rather, you hated not having any.

"I got fired yesterday." His eyes widened at what you said "You got fired?"

"Yep." You simply answered.

"For what?"

"For apparently being late too many times." You threw your hands up in frustration. "Like sorry I can't teleport across the city, Karen. I leave campus right after class, sit in traffic for an hour, then get yelled at because I'm five minutes late."

Jake snorted before saying, "Okay, but did you actually call your manager Karen?"

"No." You paused. "Maybe once." You added.

"That explains a lot."

You grabbed a cushion and threw it at him.Jake laughed before tossing it back. "I'm serious though. What are you gonna do?" He asked, worried. "I don't know." You sighed heavily. "I've been applying everywhere. Coffee shops, bookstores, convenience stores. At this point, if somebody offered me money to stand on a street corner and bark like a dog, I'd consider it."

Jake suddenly sat up.

"Actually..." You immediately narrowed your eyes at him. That look never led to anything good.

"No."

"I haven't even said anything yet." He defended. "I know that face."

"What face?"

"The face that gets people arrested." Jake gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his chest. "You wound me."

"You deserve it."

He ignored the comment before adding in, "I have a friend."

"There it is."

"A friend who does art." You stared at him trying to decipher what does art have to do with me needing money. "...Okay?"

"And he pays his models really well." That got your attention. "Models?" You asked, confused. Is he a photographer or something?

Jake nodded at your question before saying, "Yeah."

"What kind of modeling?" His hesitation lasted exactly half a second before saying, "...Nude modeling." Silence. You blinked at that then blinked again. Is he serious? I mean it’s like selling your body out or is it?

"Nude."

"Nude."

"For art."

"For art."

You stared at each other for several seconds. Jake was the first to crack the silence. "Look, don't make it weird."

"Don't make it weird?" you repeated brows creased. "Jake, you just casually suggested I get naked for a stranger."

"It's not a stranger. He's my friend."

"That's somehow not reassuring."

Jake groaned at that.

"He's an actual artist. He paints, sketches, all that fancy gallery stuff. People do this all the time." You crossed your arms against your chest. "And people also jump out of airplanes for fun. Doesn't mean I want to do it." I retorted sarcastically.

"You're impossible."

"And you're suspicious."

Jake rolled his eyes at your retort.

"Nobody's gonna touch you. Nobody's gonna be weird. You literally just sit there and pose while he draws." Well, thinking about it, if he really pays well then what could be the problem? I mean you’re no professional model at all yet you’re also not insecure about your body, you worked hard to have it so you considered it. The money sounded tempting. Very tempting for someone desperate enough to pay their tuition right on time this once.

Still...

"What if he's secretly a creep?"

"He isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've known him for years."

You gave him a flat look.

"Jake."

"What?"

"You are the worst person to vouch for someone's character." His jaw dropped at what you said before saying, "The disrespect." You laugh before adding your usual go-to moment to tease him about it. "You literally got caught under the bleachers with a cheerleader."

"ONE TIME." He frustratedly answered. "A memorable time." You playfully added teasing him. Jake buried his face in his hands.

"Oh my God."

"The poor girl almost swallowed her whistle."

"Will you stop bringing that up?"

"No."

"It happened months ago." It indeed happened months ago, I was looking for my phone that time that fell and when I got there I saw the girl sucking him off with no care in the world or the place they were in.

"Nope."

"People make mistakes."

"That wasn't a mistake. That was a conscious decision." Jake groaned at what you said so loudly you thought the neighbors might hear. "You caught me once."

"Once was enough."

"You never let me live it down."

"Because your reaction is hilarious."

Jake pointed an accusing finger at you. "One day I'm gonna tell my future children about how mean you were to me." You just laughed at that before adding, "And I'll tell them about the cheerleader."

His face immediately fell.

"...You're a terrible friend."

"Maybe." You grinned. "But at least I don't get caught under bleachers."

Fine, fine." You sighed heavily, tossing the cushion back onto the couch with a soft thump. "So, who is he?" A victorious grin crept across Jake’s face, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I knew you'd say yes."

"I didn't say yes." Yet.

"You were about to." Jake’s grin widened, leaning back with a relaxed shrug.

"That’s not the point."

He waved dismissively, a carefree smirk tugging at his lips. "His name's Lee Heeseung. Art major. Same university, different building." You raised an eyebrow, suspicion curling in your stomach like a faint warning.

"And he’s… normal?"

Jake chuckled softly, a light, easy sound. "As normal as art students get." You grimaced. "That was supposed to be reassuring?" I asked sarcastically as he laughed again, a warm, genuine sound that made you roll your eyes.

"Trust me. He’s a good guy."

You hesitated, the weight of your bank account pressing heavily against your conscience. Options were limited, and the thought of saying yes filled you with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

A few messages exchanged, contact info shared, and by the end of the day, a meeting was scheduled for the following afternoon.

You arrived ten minutes early, the nerves fluttering uncomfortably in your stomach. You didn’t want to seem too eager, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might chicken out at the last minute.

The coffee shop was quiet, almost intimate, a stark contrast to the bustling, noisy campus spots you usually frequented. The scent of rich, roasted coffee beans hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of sweet pastries. Soft acoustic music drifted through the speakers, creating a calming, almost hypnotic backdrop.

You checked your phone for the third time, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. Then, with a subtle shrug, you pretended to look at a passing customer, trying to mask your nerves.

A chime sounded, the gentle ring of the café door opening. You looked up as a figure entered, and immediately, your stomach clenched.

The man walking inside was annoyingly attractive, sharp features softened by a gentle expression, dark hair casually tousled, framing eyes that shimmered with quiet warmth. He had an effortless confidence about him, but his movements were smooth, deliberate, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite used to all the attention.

Heeseung spotted you immediately, his gaze catching yours with a soft, polite smile. He approached with a relaxed gait, shoulders squared but not rigid.

"Hi. You're Jake’s friend, right?" His voice was calm, soothing, like a gentle current that eased your racing thoughts. You stood up, feeling a little awkward, cheeks flushing. "Yeah. And you’re Heeseung."

He nodded, extending a hand, warm, firm, but not overbearing. His skin was soft but confident.

"Nice to finally meet you."

The handshake was brief, almost like a handshake between old friends, and that small gesture set a surprisingly relaxed tone.

He took a seat across from you at a cozy corner table, the sunlight pouring through the window casting a warm glow on his features. His eyes lingered for a moment, studying you with a quiet curiosity.

As he began explaining the modeling process, you found yourself stealing glances at him, watching how he spoke, the subtle gestures that accompanied his words. His voice carried a gentle rhythm, each phrase carefully chosen, like he wanted to put you at ease without overwhelming you.

He described the kind of work he did, artistic, expressive, sometimes provocative, but always with a respect for boundaries. His tone was earnest, sincere.

"If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we stop. No questions, no pressure."

His eyes searched yours, earnest and steady. "Really. Just say the word." You blinked, surprised by the straightforwardness. "And what if it’s halfway through?"

"Then we stop. Right there." His gaze was unwavering. "No guilt, no awkwardness. I’d rather lose a session than make you feel uncomfortable."

The sincerity behind his words felt grounding like a steady anchor amid your swirling nerves. For the first time, some of the tension in your chest eased.Maybe Jake was right. Maybe he was a good guy.

Maybe.

☆◜ ͡ ◝◞◟ ͜ ◞ 𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥◞◜ ͡ ◝𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥 ◜ ͡ ◝

The studio was warm and inviting, a sanctuary of creativity. Large windows stretched along one wall, flooding the room with golden daylight that danced across unfinished sketches, vibrant paintings, and scattered art supplies. The scent of charcoal, paint, and linseed oil mingled in the air, creating a heady aroma of artistic passion.

Shelves bowed under the weight of books and sketchpads, some filled with delicate drawings, others with abstract splashes of color. The walls were a gallery of his work, some polished, some in progress, some clearly failed attempts but all imbued with raw emotion.

You found yourself drawn to a particular painting, an exquisite landscape bathed in soft sunset hues, yet with a haunting undercurrent of storm clouds gathering in the distance.

"Did you do all these?" you asked, voice hushed with admiration.

Heeseung looked up from organizing a set of charcoal pencils, a gentle smile curling his lips. "Most of them."

"Most?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a tinge of sheepishness in his expression. "Some are... failed attempts." You tilted your head, eyes tracing the details of a portrait that seemed to breathe with life.

"This is a failed attempt?" you teased softly. Heeseung chuckled, a quiet warmth filling the space. "The lighting wasn’t quite right."

You smirked. "Artists are insane."

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. It was a rare, honest laugh, warm, uninhibited, unselfconscious.

The initial moments of posing were painfully awkward, your limbs felt stiff, your muscles tense. You became hyperaware of every movement, the placement of your hands, the angle of your head, even your breathing, which suddenly sounded deafening in your ears.

At one point, you convinced yourself you hadn’t blinked in three minutes straight, your eyes watering slightly.

"Relax. You're doing fine." Heeseung’s voice broke through your spiraling nerves, focused completely on his sketchbook.

"Easy for you to say."

He looked up, a gentle, reassuring smile softening his features. "Really. You’re great. Just breathe."

His words, simple as they were, anchored you. Slowly, the tension started to melt away, replaced by a strange, calming sense of trust.

The playlist of mellow R&B played softly in the background, the gentle scratch of pencil on paper punctuating the quiet. Time slipped by unnoticed, hours passing faster than you’d expected.

Sometimes, you talked, about classes, favorite artists, dreams. Sometimes, you sat in a peaceful silence, feeling the warmth of the sunlight and the hum of creativity in the air.

Other times, Heeseung asked questions about your interests, listening with genuine curiosity. It was effortless, unforced.

By the fourth session, you found yourself lingering after the scheduled end time, chatting a little longer, savoring the easy companionship.

And by the sixth, you realized something unexpected: it wasn’t just about the paycheck anymore. You weren’t just looking forward to the money. You looked forward to seeing him, the quiet, kind artist with the warm smile and gentle voice more than you cared to admit.

There was a lingering tension whenever he was near, a kind of unspoken electricity that made your skin tingle. Tonight, as you entered the studio, your eyes met his for a brief moment, and you felt it again, something smoldering beneath his calm exterior. You wondered if he felt it too, this strange pull, this undeniable chemistry that neither of you dared to acknowledge out loud.

The room was heavy with silence, every small sound amplified, the faint hum of the city outside, the quiet shuffle of brushstrokes, your own breath catching in your throat. The space between you was thick, almost suffocating, filled with unspoken energy that neither of you dared to break.

He looked at you with a gaze that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, eyes lingering just a moment too long. You felt your pulse quicken without knowing why, a strange flutter in your stomach that refused to settle.

He moved closer, just enough for you to feel his presence, but not enough to touch. The air grew warmer, more charged, as if the very atmosphere was trembling with anticipation. You could see the faint play of shadows on his face, shadows that seemed to dance with the unspoken tension.

A breathless pause stretched between you, heavy and taut. Neither of you spoke, but the silence was loud, echoing with questions that hung in the air, questions that begged to be answered but remained unspoken.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, a silent challenge, a promise of something just out of reach. You wondered how long it would stay like that, how long the tension could hold before it snapped, before one of you finally made a move.

But for now, it remained suspended, a delicate web of anticipation that neither dared to disturb.

☆◜ ͡ ◝◞◟ ͜ ◞ 𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥◞◜ ͡ ◝𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥 ◜ ͡ ◝

The next few days finally passed, and You werw able to pay for your tuition on time. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d make it, but somehow, you did. And you have Heeseung’s nude art session to thank for that, strange as it sounds. It gave you a weird motivation boost, and somehow, you managed to get everything sorted.

You told Jake about it during our usual hangout. “Hey, I finally paid my tuition,” you said, taking a sip of my drink.

Jake looked at you with a smirk. “No way. You’re joking.”

“Nope,” You said, grinning. “Thanks to Heeseung’s nude art. Who knew nudity would be so motivating?”

He chuckled. “Damn, I should’ve signed up. Maybe I’d get my stuff together too.” He paused for a moment, then leaned in with that teasing smile that never failed to get on my nerves. “So… how was it with you guys?”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. “What’s with you and ‘us’?” You asked, voice laced with suspicion. “Oh, nothing, just… curious.” You shot him a pointed glare, catching the flicker of mischief in his eyes. He was acting innocent, way too innocent, considering the smirk on his face.

“Nothing else happened,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

You rolled my eyes. “What? I didn’t say anything,” You shot back, crossing my arms. But You knew Jake too well. You guys had been friends since high school, and you could read him like an open book. He was the type to play innocent until the very last moment, even when he was dying to say something.

“Whatever, Jake,” You muttered, sighing. “I’ve got a session with him tonight.”

That earned a wide grin from him, that annoying, smug, and impossible to ignore. Ugh, he really couldn’t help himself, could he? He kept talking about how You shouldn’t make things weird, but then he went and implied everything without actually saying a word. Classic Jake.

You shook my head, trying to suppress a smile. “Just don’t get any ideas,” You warned, though you knew he’d probably find a way to tease you about it later.

He chuckled, leaning back. “No promises. But hey, I’ll be waiting for the full report. Don’t leave out the juicy details.”

You rolled my eyes again but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Some things never changed, especially Jake’s knack for making everything a little more complicated than it needed to be.

☆◜ ͡ ◝◞◟ ͜ ◞ 𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥◞◜ ͡ ◝𝆺𝅥𝆹𝅥 ◜ ͡ ◝

You arrived at Heeseung’s studio just as the rain began to fall softly, tapping against the pavement in a steady rhythm. Typical. Of course, you hadn’t brought an umbrella, who would’ve thought the weather forecast could be so wrong? It had only predicted clouds, not a sudden downpour. Now, your clothes clung to you, damp and cold, and you hesitated for a moment before carefully pushing the door open. Using the spare key he’d given you for these sessions, you slipped inside and softly shut out the pouring rain.

The air inside was cool, almost uncomfortably so and you shivered slightly as you pulled your jacket tighter around your body. The hum of the air conditioning contrasted sharply with the wet, drizzly world outside. You hugged yourself, trying to warm up, when suddenly your eyes caught sight of him Heeseung, focused entirely on his art, his brush moving with practiced grace.

When he finally looked up, your eyes met. For a fleeting second, you swear you saw his gaze flicker downward, lingering just a moment longer than it should have, as if he couldn’t help himself. Or maybe it was just your imagination, fueled by the rain and your own nerves. Or perhaps it was because you were soaked from head to toe, standing there dripping wet.

“Oh… hey,” he said casually, setting his brush down. His eyes briefly flicked over you, as if inspecting, then he stood smoothly, approaching without rush. “Didn’t expect to see you like this.”

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, well… the weather decided to surprise me. I didn’t bring an umbrella, I blame the forecast for lying. Said it was only supposed to be cloudy today.”

He chuckled softly, a low, amused sound that made your cheeks flush. Without a word, he turned to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a towel. Extending it casually, he said, “Here. You look like you’ve been swimming.”

You took the towel, wrapping it around yourself, grateful for the warmth. The dampness of your clothes lessened somewhat under its comforting weight. “Thanks,” you muttered, shivering slightly.

Heeseung’s lips curled into a small, relaxed smile. “Well, come on in. You’re soaked, and I’m pretty sure the cold isn’t good for your muscles.” He gestured toward the studio, his tone easy but with that subtle warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, you hesitated, then stepped inside. Your footsteps muffled on the soft rug, and the studio revealed itself, canvases, paints, sketches scattered in an organized chaos that only someone truly passionate about art could create. The scent of oil paints and charcoal lingered in the air, comforting in its familiarity.

Heeseung approached, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, glancing at you with those intense, almost hypnotic eyes.

You shrugged, trying to shake off the lingering cold. “We can start now. Just… don’t let me freeze to death, okay?”

He chuckled softly, the kind of sound that made everything around you seem a little warmer. “I’ll do my best,” he teased, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “But no promises.”

You dried your face and neck with the towel, then looked up at him, suddenly curious. “What pose should I do?”

He paused, studying you with those same piercing eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. For a moment, you thought you saw something different, something almost hungry, almost predatory. But then he blinked, and it was gone. Maybe it was just your imagination, or maybe the storm outside had muddled your senses.

You cleared your throat, trying to dismiss the strange feeling. “Yeah… so? Any ideas?”

He took a slow step closer, deliberate and calm. “Just relax. Let’s see what feels right today.” His voice was steady, but you could sense the undercurrent of something else, something unspoken, lingering in the space between you.

And somehow, you knew this session was going to be different from all the others.

The air between you feels heavier, charged with an unspoken promise that neither of you dares to voice. Every glance, every breath seems amplified, echoing in the quiet of the studio like a secret only the two of you share.

Heeseung’s pencil pauses once more, and he looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. There’s a flicker of something, desire, restraint, maybe both that flickers across his face before he quickly masks it behind a calm facade. Still, you catch the way his gaze lingers just a second too long, the way his pupils dilate as if he’s fighting an impulse he’s afraid to give in to.

You swallow hard, feeling the vulnerability of your exposed skin and the weight of his stare. Your body reacts involuntarily, trembling slightly under his gaze, and you wonder if he notices how your chest rises and falls a little faster. The tension crackles in the space between you, thick and tangible, like a storm waiting to break.

Heeseung’s hand resumes sketching, but his movements are slower, more deliberate. Every line he draws seems to convey a quiet, unspoken message, one that you’re both acutely aware of but refuse to name. His focus is intense, almost primal, as if capturing more than just your form perhaps the raw emotion that’s simmering beneath the surface.

The silence stretches, heavy with anticipation. You feel exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated, aware of the magnetic pull that exists in the space between your skin and his gaze. You catch yourself wondering if he feels it too, this unrelenting tension that blurs the line between art and something more intimate.

His eyes flicker up again, locking onto yours for a heartbeat that feels like an eternity. In that moment, you see it, the flicker of desire, the restraint, the unspoken understanding that this is no ordinary session. It’s a delicate dance of glances and subtle touches, of unacknowledged feelings that threaten to spill over.

You hold your breath, waiting for something, anything to break the silence. But instead, Heeseung simply nods, as if confirming that he’s capturing not just your image, but the charged energy that surrounds it. And you realize that this moment, this charged, fragile connection, is unlike anything you’ve known before.

In that suspended space, you wonder how much of what you’re feeling is real, how much is the storm outside stirring everything inside you both. But deep down, you already know, this session is different, and it’s just the beginning of something unspoken, something you’re both trembling on the edge of exploring.

The studio falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint scratch of Heeseung’s pencil. You watch him work, nerves tightening and loosening in waves. An unspoken question hangs thick in the air.

Suddenly, Heeseung pauses, sets his pencil down, and looks up, meeting your gaze with a quiet intensity.

“You’re tense again,” he says softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “I remember your first time. Relax. It’s just art.”

You swallow, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s not that simple...” you reply. “This… feels different.” Heeseung’s eyes flicker with understanding. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “It does...”

A moment of silence stretches between you before he shifts slightly, leaning back, his expression open and sincere.

“Maybe it’s not about the art,” he says softly. “Maybe it’s about what you’re feeling right now.” You breathe in deeply, feeling the weight of his words. “And what if I am?”

Heeseung’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile. “Then maybe we just let ourselves feel it, without overthinking.”

You meet his gaze, heart pounding. “And if I do?”

Heeseung’s voice drops, almost a whisper. “Then we might realize this isn’t just a session about drawing. It’s about something more. Something real.”

A vulnerable look crosses his face, and suddenly the tension that had been simmering feels different, more genuine, more honest.

You nod softly, cheeks warming. “I think I knew that all along.”

And in that moment, something shifts. The invisible barrier between you dissolves just a little more, making space for what might come next.

The storm outside rages on, thunder crashing across the sky, but inside, a strange stillness settles, a quiet clarity that feels both terrifying and beautiful. Heeseung’s footsteps are slow and deliberate as he approaches the couch where you sit, completely exposed, your body vulnerable in the dim light.

You swallow hard, muscles tense as you sit up a little straighter. Every nerve feels heightened, your skin tingling from the cool air and the weight of his gaze. You’re naked, seated on the couch, eyes shifting nervously as he stands before you, a quiet intensity radiating from him.

He moves closer, and his hand reaches out with a gentle, reassuring touch. He cups your jaw softly, his thumb brushing tenderly over your lips as you lift your gaze to meet his. His eyes flicker with something unreadable desire, restraint, a mixture of both.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he whispers, voice low and steady, almost dangerously so. “If you tell me you don’t feel it too.”

A rush of heat spreads through your body, making you shiver despite the warmth of the room. Instinctively, you draw your legs closer to each other, shielding yourself just a little more because of the heat, feeling exposed and vulnerable, naked in every sense of the word.

His eyes darken, a flicker of something intense passing through them. The storm outside continues its relentless roar, but inside, an electric tension hangs thick in the air, suspended between hesitation and something deeper something unspoken yet undeniable.

His hand was still lightly brushing over your lips, feathering across your skin, when you instinctively parted them. Without hesitation, he slipped a finger inside, and you sucked gently, your lips wrapping around him in a silent invitation. His eyes darkened at the sight lips parted, cheeks flushed, the subtle sound of your breath mingling with his.

Before you could process what was happening, his lips suddenly pressed against yours, rough, hungry, a kiss fueled by long-suppressed desire. The kind of kiss that ignites everything around you, a collision of heat and restraint desperately breaking free. He fixed your position, and in one swift movement, he sat back on the couch, pulling you with him.

You straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips, feeling the undeniable heat of his body beneath you. His hands gripped your waist, firm and possessive, anchoring you as he claimed your lips again more urgently this time, his kiss rougher, lips parted, teeth grazing your bottom lip. Every touch, every breath, was a reminder of the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered against your mouth, voice thick with hunger. “Can’t hold back anymore.”

Your body responded instinctively, gasping softly at his touch as his hands roamed over you one on your waist, pulling you closer, the other sliding down the length of your thigh, fingers trailing along your skin, igniting sparks with every graze.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. You could feel his breath, uneven, matching your own racing heartbeat. The air between you crackled with tension, desire hanging heavy and unspoken.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, voice rough with need, eyes flickering with anticipation. “Because I’m not stopping until you do.”

Your skin was bare, exposed and vulnerable, a testament to the countless hours you had spent posing for his art. The dim lighting cast shadows over her curves, every line and contour illuminated with raw honesty. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, hungry and reverent all at once.

His hand still rested on your waist, fingers digging in slightly as if memorizing every inch of you. “You’re perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with desire. “Every line, every curve, your body is art itself.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly over your collarbone. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice trembling with emotion and want. “No art can do justice to what I see right now.”

His lips moved lower, tracing a path down her chest, teeth grazing her skin in a gentle bite that sent shivers coursing through you. His hands moved to her hips, steadying her as he pressed you closer, his body molding against yours.

“You’re already mine,” he murmured, voice husky. “And I want to claim every inch of you.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders as you responded with a trembling breath, “Then do it. Show me.”

Without hesitation, he lowered his head, his lips capturing you in a fierce, possessive kiss. His hands roamed over your body with reverence and hunger, exploring, memorizing. The heat between you intensified as he pressed his body into you, every touch igniting a fire you couldn’t contain.

His lips went down on your jaw, down your chest as your body instinctively arched to his kisses. He took in one mound on his mouth as his hand play the other. You couldn’t help but gasp at every suck he does with your tits.

Heeseung’s other hand went down your thighs before his thumb went to do torturous slow circles on your clit earning a moan from you. “You like that?” He asks, almost taunting as you nodded mindlessly. Just as you were about to cum, his fingers stopped making you clench at nothing and making you whine slightly.

Before you could ask him why’d he stopped, he pushed you down the couch and he went to take off his black shirt making you gasp at the sight of his chest down to his abs. You didn’t know he had it in him. Then he unbuckled his belt.

Is this really happening? You thought to yourself, looking back he used to be calm and composed, keeping the respectful distance in the past nude art sessions. But right now all you could think about is him disrespecting you. The heat was too much.

“Please... I need you”

The sound of your voice, broken and desperate, seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. Heeseung paused, his hands hovering near the waistband of his trousers, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The calm, composed man who used to guide your poses with gentle, professional touches was gone; in his place was a man driven by a hunger he had clearly been starving for.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest as he leaned over you, his shadow looming large over your trembling form. He planted his hands on either side of your hips, pinning you into the soft cushions of the couch.

"Please?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky, predatory velvet. He leaned down until his lips were brushing against your ear, his hot breath sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you beg like that."

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze possessive and heavy with intent. There was no more 'respectful distance' only the raw, unadulterated desire of a man who was done playing nice.

"You want me?" he murmured, his hand sliding from the couch to grip your thigh, his fingers digging in just enough to let you know he wasn't asking for permission anymore. "Then don't look away. Watch exactly what you're doing to me."

Without another moment of hesitation, he moved to claim the relief you were pleading for, his movements decisive and hungry, as if he intended to make up for every second of composed silence he had ever maintained around you.

When he pulled his pants down along with his boxers your eyes slightly widen at how thick and long enough he is to make you almost drool at the sight of him.

Heeseung noticed the way your eyes widened, the way your breath hitched and caught in your throat. He saw the subtle, involuntary swallow as you stared, your gaze fixed on the heavy, pulsing length of him. A smirk, dark and incredibly smug, tugged at the corner of his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The composed artist was dead, this man was a predator who thrived on the effect he had on you.

"Like what you see?" he murmured, his voice thick with a primal sort of satisfaction. He didn't move to cover himself, instead, he leaned back slightly on his heels, letting you take him in, letting the visual of him sink into your mind and fuel your arousal.

He watched the way your lips parted, the way the heat in the room seemed to intensify with every second of your silent observation. He could see the hunger in your eyes, a reflection of the storm brewing in his own gut.

"Don't be shy," he taunted softly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes. "You've been staring at me through a canvas for months. Now, you can see the real thing."

He reached out, his large hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip to pull it down slightly. His touch was no longer hesitant or professional; it was demanding.

"If you think looking is enough to satisfy you..." He leaned forward, the heat radiating off his skin as he hovered just inches from your face, "you're mistaken. Come on, doll. Show me how want it.” He muttered making you swallow before slowly stroking him, your thumb playing with his tip before you took him inside your mouth.

Heeseung’s head fell back against the couch, a guttural, choked sound escaping his throat the moment your fingers made contact with him. His eyes squeezed shut, his muscles rippling and tensing under your touch. The composed man you once knew would have likely gasped or tried to maintain his dignity, but this Heeseung the one who had been starving for you simply let out a low, primal groan of approval.

When you began to stroke him, his hips gave an involuntary, hungry twitch upward, seeking more of your warmth. As your thumb teased the sensitive tip, he let out a ragged breath, his hands reaching down to tangle themselves in your hair, not to pull you away, but to guide you, his grip firm and possessive.

Then, as you took him into your mouth, his entire body jolted.

"God..." he hissed through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the couch cushions.

The sensation of your warmth enveloping him was almost too much to bear. He looked down at you through hooded, heavy eyelids, his gaze dark with a mixture of intense pleasure and overwhelming lust. He watched the way your cheeks hollowed, the way you worked to take him in, and the sight of you being so uninhibited for him sent a surge of dominance through his veins.

He didn't hold back. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, his rhythm dictated by the frantic pounding of his heart. He wasn't just letting you do this; he was claiming the moment, his hips beginning to move in a slow, demanding thrust to meet your mouth, driving himself deeper as he surrendered to the exquisite torture of your tongue.

"That's it..." he rasped, his voice breaking. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

So you didn’t stop taking him in more almost choking before he pulled me back and pushed you down on your stomach, he pulled your bottom, delivering a loud slap.

The sound of the slap echoed through the quiet room, a sharp, stinging crack that was immediately followed by the heavy, frantic sound of your breath. The sting on your skin sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, making your hips arch instinctively against the couch. You were breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs, caught between the shock of his sudden roughness and the overwhelming need he was stoking within you.

Heeseung didn't give you a moment to recover. He was relentless, his composure completely shattered, replaced by a raw, driving hunger.

As he positioned himself, you felt the blunt, heavy pressure of him at your entrance. He paused for a heartbeat, hovering there, letting you feel the sheer size of him, letting the anticipation build until it was almost unbearable. He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You're so tight, Yura... so perfect," he growled, his voice vibrating through your entire body.

Then, with one slow, powerful thrust, he drove himself home.

A loud, broken moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you to your absolute limit. The sensation was overwhelming a mix of fullness, pressure, and a searing heat that seemed to reach deep into your very soul. It felt as though he was claiming every part of you, marking you as his in a way no brushstroke ever could.

Heeseung let out a long, shuddering exhale, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he waited for your body to adjust to his massive size. His hands gripped your hips with bruising intensity, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you pinned, to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

"Look at how you take me," he rasped, his breath hot against your skin as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, punishingly thorough. "Every inch of you belongs to me tonight. Do you understand?"

You nodded, you didn’t mind all you could think was the sensation and how deep he was hitting you inside. He pushed your chest down as he thrusted faster and harder.

The world narrowed down to a single, blinding point of sensation. Every time he drove into you, it felt as though he was reaching into your very core, hitting spots that made your vision swim and your toes curl into the couch cushions. The rhythmic slap of his skin against yours and the wet, heavy sound of his thrusts were the only things you could hear over the roaring of blood in your ears.

Heeseung was no longer the man who waited for you to find the perfect light; he was a force of nature.

His hands moved from your hips to your shoulders, his palms pressing firmly against your chest to pin you flat against the couch. This forced your hips to tilt upward, making the angle even more devastating. With every heavy, punishing lunge, he was bottoming out, the sheer depth of him making you gasp for air that wouldn't come.

"Tell me," he commanded, his voice a low, guttural growl that was more animal than man. He leaned down, his sweat slicked chest sliding against your back, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. "Tell me how deep it is. Tell me you can feel me hitting everything."

He didn't wait for an answer, his pace turning frantic. He was driving himself into you with a desperate, possessive strength, his hips slamming against your backside with a ferocity that left you breathless. He was taking what he wanted, and he was taking it with a hunger that felt bottomless.

“S-so deep...”

"That’s right. You're so fucking tight..." he groaned, his composure long gone, replaced by a raw, unbridled passion. He reached around, one hand finding your breast to squeeze it firmly while the other gripped your hip to anchor you for his assault. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Stay with me. Feel every bit of this."

The friction was becoming unbearable, a delicious, mounting tension that threatened to shatter you. You could feel him nearing his limit, his thrusts becoming shallower but much faster, his entire body vibrating with the effort of holding back just a moment longer to drive you to the edge first.

He suddenly pulled your hair making you feel sensations despite the pain, he was hitting you so deep, you felt yourself nearing your climax.

The sudden, sharp tug on your hair snapped your head back, forcing you to arch your spine even more dramatically. The sting of the pull was a jolt of pure electricity, a delicious flash of pain that only served to heighten the overwhelming pleasure flooding your nerves. It felt as though he was physically anchoring your soul to the moment, refusing to let you drift away from the intensity of what he was doing to you.

Heeseung’s eyes were dark, almost black with lust, as he watched your face contort. He saw the way your eyes rolled back, the way your breath came in ragged, shallow hitches. He knew. He could feel the way your internal muscles were beginning to pulse and spasm around him, clamping down on his length in frantic, rhythmic waves.

"That's it... right there," he growled, his voice a low vibration that seemed to echo inside your very bones.

He didn't let up. If anything, the feeling of you nearing the edge made him more feral. He used his grip on your hair to tilt your head back further, exposing the long line of your throat, and he leaned down to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin just as he delivered a series of rapid, punishingly deep thrusts.

He was hitting the exact spot, over and over, with a relentless, driving force that felt like it was shattering you from the inside out. The pressure was building, a tidal wave of heat that was about to crash over you.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice cracking with his own desperation. He slammed into you one last time, his hips pinning yours to the couch as he drove himself as deep as he could possibly go. "Give it all to me."

The world exploded into white light. Your climax hit you like a physical blow, your entire body convulsing as the intense, rhythmic contractions of your walls gripped him with a desperate, unyielding strength. You let out a high, broken cry, your fingers clawing at the couch as the waves of pleasure tore through you, leaving you completely undone.

You panted at that before he pulled out, leaving you aching yet satisfied. “You did so well, darling. You did so well...”