đ: this is not proof read and suuuuper short because i found it in my drafts and decided to feed y'all + no labels part 02 is coming out soon and dada is EXCITED and thinking abt yeonjun constantly. enjoy!
genre: yeonbin x fem!reader threesome (kinda crack-ish)
wc: 1.3k
warnings: soft dom!soobin & yeonjun, they're eiffel tower-ing reader, they argue but its not angsty at all its just incredibly stupid, very brief mention of yeonjun wearing a suit (or at least he was wearing one), oral (m!receiving), deep throating, backshots, yeonjun praises reader a bit, soobin is referred to as bunny, littleeee bit of mxm but its just kissing, soobinâs a little bit rough, slight face fucking towards the end, yeonjun cums in readers mouth, soobin cums inside reader, idk i probably missed a couple but whatever
Youâre moaning and trying your best to keep your lips wrapped around yeonjunâs dick as his best friend of over ten years stretches the tight walls of your cunt open. You should be having a great time right now. You should be going stupid from the stimulation. But insteadâ
They're arguing.
Every time another stupid sentence leaves Yeonjunâs mouth, Soobin fucks into you harder. He doesnât mean to, but Yeonjun is being so annoying right now. Poor bunny is trying so hard to be gentle while his drama queen of a friend continues running his mouth.
You're filled from both ends, body shaken back and forth between the two bickering men. Theyâve been going at it non stop for hours now. Not even sex has seemed to shake them. Itâs exhausting to say the least.
"You changed the decorations I picked, asshole!"
"Yeah, because you decided to pick them without asking me first."
"Well you wouldâve just said no anyways, because youâ ahâ you have awful taste."
"Can you two please shut up! I'm trying to cum!"
You try to get them to continue focusing on the task at hand, fucking you, but they just grunt at each other. Soobin continuing to slam roughly into you, too irritated to remember to be gentle. Not that youâre complaining though, your sweet bunny is rarely ever rough. Yeonjun on the other hand is just simply too stubborn to completely let go of this pointless argument, even as he stares down at your pretty mouth swallowing his cock whole.
Youâre so close to heaven, with Soobin relentlessly pounding into you as he moans and grunts and Yeonjun letting out the prettiest whimpers and leaning back onto his hands. You love having them like this, even if their endless back-and-forth is starting to get on your last nerve. Yeonjunâs mouth is slightly agape and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck, his blazer discarded somewhere on the floor. His pants are unbuttoned and boxers pulled down just enough for his leaky cock to be freed. You canât see Soobin, but youâre willing to bet his hair is falling in his face and his pretty lips are glistening with leftover saliva from licking them constantly.
Even as you manage to shut them up for a bit, Soobin has started purposely slamming his hips flush with your ass, making you deepthroat Yeonjun. Which in turn, is making him whine pathetically as his hands dig into the sheets.
Soobin thought it was amusing at first, making Yeonjun loose his composure more than he already was to get him to finally shut up. But it wasnât so funny when Yeonjun started obviously getting close to climax, his head tipping back and his moans getting higher and higher. Heâs been nothing but a bitch all day long, he doesnât deserve to cum first.
Yeonjunâs head shoots back up, staring daggers into Soobinâs eyes when your mouth is suddenly no longer around his dick. Soobin had yanked you back, hands tight on your hips. He couldnât help but smirk seeing Yeonjun look so annoyed.
"What the fuck??â Yeonjun spits.
If looks could kill, Soobin wouldâve been long gone right now. Yeonjun is not too happy with being edged right as he was about to cum so far down your warm throat.
âWhat? I didnât do anything.â Soobin smiles, feigning innocence as his movements start to slow, more focused on getting back at his best friend than fucking you.
You were so close to cumming. But yet again, your momentary bliss is put on hold while the men argue. You could almost roll your eyes right now if it werenât for Yeonjun gently grabbing your cheeks and feeding his dick right back in. Seems heâs choosing to ignore Soobin for once.
âAhh fuck yesyesyes, just like thatâ Yeonjun moans out as your lips wrap back around him, his hands on the sides of your face slowly guiding you down.
âFeels so good, keep going please fuckâ oh my god⌠Youâre so pretty, so good at thisâ he babbles on.
You love when he gets like this, so pretty and dazed from the stimulation that he just talks and talks. Even in bed Yeonjun never knows how to stop talking.
Soobin however, does not love it. Even as he picks his pace back up and resumes fucking in and out of you, heâs distracted. And fed the fuck up.
âWill you stopâ uhâ talking please?â Soobin grunts out.
âWhy should I listen to you? You donât ever listen to me.â
âYou think the whole world should listen to your stupid ideas.â
Your mouth pops off Yeonjun once again, this time to speak.
âSoobinnn, âm so close!â you moan out, feeling that familiar feeling building up in your lower tummy. Soobinâs thrusts have gotten brutal as Yeonjun continued to aggravate him further once again, his tip hitting and abusing your cervix over and over.
Suddenly the feeling of you clenching around Soobin has made itself known, his eyes falling to the sight of himself going in and out of you making him dizzy. Heâs no longer busy arguing as he moans and snakes his fingers around you to work at your clit.
âFuckâ Yeah, okay. Go ahead and cum for me.â
Both the attention on Yeonjunâs cock and his words are forgotten now as Soobinâs tunnel visioned on making you cum. Yeonjun is not done talking though, and heâs tired of Soobin ruining everything.
âI want an apology.â he declares firmly.
âWhat? No way!â Soobin retorts, gaze averting from your dripping cunt back to Yeonjun.
You groan as Soobinâs pace falters once again, his fingers halting all movement at the absurdity of his friends words.
Youâre pissed. If these two idiots would just shut up for one minute you wouldâve came ages ago.
âWhat do you mean âno wayâ?â Yeonjun questions as he pushes his dick inside your warm mouth once again. âI deserve one! Youâre the one whoâs been a jerk all day long.â
âMe? Youâre the one whoâs been going around bad mouthing me to everyone just because you canât handle not getting your way!â Soobin spits back, having completely stopped all movement now.
Thatâs it. You are sick and tired of your orgasm being put on hold over and over for them to continue having the worlds dumbest argument.
âWill you both just fucking kiss and make up?! Youâre both jerks because you wonât let me cum!â You practically cry out, removing your mouth from Yeonjun once again as your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
And that may have just been the best thing youâve ever said.
Were they finally quiet? No. But were they still arguing? Nope!
They couldnât when they were too busy moaning into each others mouths as they make out above you. Yeonjunâs up on his knees now to reach Soobin better, thrusting harshly in and out of your wet mouth. Soobinâs no better, bullying his cock into you relentlessly. Both their paces barely steady, and you know it wonât be much longer before they both cum.
And lo and behold, Yeonjun was the first to go. Moaning loudly into Soobinâs mouth as he shoved himself as far down your throat as he possibly could. Your nose buried into his pelvis as cum spurts into your mouth. You could feel yourself getting dizzy, finally feeling the warmth build back up in your stomach. Soobin mustâve felt it too as his fingers reach down to rub at your neglected clit once again.
Within seconds another loud and broken moan rips through the air, and shockingly its your own. As if on cue, Soobin follows right behind. His hands death grip your hips, pulling you down to the base of his cock as he spills inside you. Itâs almost beautiful, the moans falling from all three of your mouths, sweat falling from your foreheads, and no more pointless arguing.
Who knew all they needed was to kiss for all of you to come, and cum, together so nicely?
Š all content belongs to @2dollarhooker 2026. do not modify or repost.
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Ë áĄŁđŠ ⚠࣪ ๨ŕ§Ëâ taehyun x fem!reader x beomgyu
đđâ established relationship (taehyun x reader), perv!taegyu, switch!beomgyu (pathetic beomgyu) , dom!taehyun, beomgyu sits in a literal cuck chair
Spending all of your time at your boyfriends apartment is great, endless affection, homecooked meals, not to mention endlessly teasing his perv of a roommate!
threesome (duh), exhibitionist, voyeurism (literal cuck chair), praise, degrading, double penetration, fingering, oral fem receiving, mxm action (making out), finger sucking, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dry humping, beomgyu being pervy, mention of beomgyu stealing and fucking readers panties, tit sucking, finger sucking, manhandling, unprotected sex (nono) and so much more holy. THIS IS NOT REALLY PROOFREAD. AND ITS ALSO MY FIRST SMUT PIECE SO PLS CUT ME SOME SLACK.
You've always wondered what it was like to have a roommate, you were in college but always managed to swing a single dorm room. despite the privacy and tranquility single living gives you â you always seem to end up at your boyfriends apartment, who does in fact have a roommate â and paper thin walls.
Your relationship with Taehyun is perfect, he's everything you want; thoughtful, confident, charming, it's perfect â almost perfect. Not necessarily a flaw â no not at all, more an addition you could say. Beomgyu his roommate, he's a good roommate, does his share of chores, pays rent on time, doesn't make too much noise (you and Taehyun definitely don't follow that one), hell he even shares his snacks with you when Taehyun's too busy working and you're lounging at their apartment, joking you should pay rent at this point.
No, its the fact he's a giant perv, now its not really his fault is it? Taehyun goes around talking about how perfect you are, how good you are in bed, the sounds you make â he simply cant help it. Also when you go around the apartment in your pajamas, simple ones; not even sexy or slutty, he cant help but imagine how pretty you would look under him, the wrecked sounds you would make for him.
He doesn't have to do a lot of imagining when all he can hear at night is you moaning out for him â him being Taehyun. Every night without a doubt he can hear your soft moans, you begging Taehyun to keep going. All he can do is imagine he's there, how he'd stay between your legs until you push him off, how your walls would suck him in â but all he can do is imagine the panties that 'went missing' were you, the scent of you filling him as his cum trickles down his hand into the soiled panties.
You notice â of course you notice, its hard not to. His eyes always drifting down to your boobs in conversation, how he always 'accidentally' ends up with your laundry in his basket. How whenever you're with Taehyun, there's always another faint moan echoing the apartment that doesn't belong to either of you.
When you first noticed it all you immediately thought to tell Taehyun, while you enjoyed teasing his roommate you didn't think he'd like being left in the dark. Little to your knowledge he knew â oh he knew, in fact he fueled it, buying you purposely revealing clothes, not just for him, but because he knew Beomgyu would enjoy it too. And every night when he would make you whine out his name, he'd push you a little harder just so Beomgyu would have a good show.
Taehyun enjoyed it, seeing Beomgyu's face whenever he would make guy talk, telling his friends about how perfect you were, how Beomgyu would always look guilty when you accused Taehyun of stealing your panties.
Most guys when they see their roommate and best friend being pervy to their girlfriend would fight, tell him to fuck off, kick him out â but Taehyun? Why would he do that, his perfect girl is just so pretty, too pretty not to share, plus â he's always been a very generous best friend.
Now he would never just tell Beomgyu he could join â no, whats the fun in that?
No, if Beomgyu wanted to join â to watch he has to earn it, Taehyun wasn't just going to give Beomgyu the opportunity, after all, he has been watching his own best friends girlfriend, watching her, getting off to her.
While you knew of your boyfriends end goal you didn't know how it was going to pan out â of course is discussed it with you at lengths, you were his priority after all.
The thought of Beomgyu joining, watching was undeniably interesting to you, he was hot â not in the way Taehyun was, no; in a puppy sort of way, you enjoyed teasing him, the idea of Beomgyu being there was exciting, a fantasy you didn't know you had till Taehyun brought it up â and now you cant stop thinking about it. You didn't know his plan, he refused to tell you.
You were in the living room, Beomgyu nowhere in the apartment, Taehyun claimed he'd be gone all night. "It will be more fun if you're surprised, princess." He mumbles into your shoulder as he shifts your position, pulling you into his lap, looking up at you â his gaze focused on the pout forming on your lips.
"Cmon! Please baby.." you whine, hating not knowing when you would finally get to revel in the attention of both boys. You were also needy. When Taehyun brought it up it became all you could think about, the idea consumes your every thought, you imagine how Beomgyu would look â watching you then eventually how he would feel. How different his touch would be from Taehyun's, how pathetic the poor boy would be for you. Taehyun sensing you getting into your own head pulls you out of your thoughts.
"Do you trust me?" He says firmly, his gaze strong and unwavering from yours. You immediately nod, wordlessly confirming you do â of course you trust him, hes never given you a reason not to, and he wouldn't keep it from you unless he thought you would enjoy it so whether you have the patience for it or not,you'll wait âbegrudgingly.
He isn't cruel, no of course not â he just knows what you want, what you need. He knows you enjoy it, the suspense of not knowing, a part of the mystery, the fun, him being the only one fully in the know â you partially aware; Beomgyu completely unaware of the fun that's about to happen.
Taehyun quickly presses a gentle kiss to your collarbone, easing your mind. "You're tense." He mumbles against the spot quickly pressing a firmer kiss onto the spot earning a content sigh from you as your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, tilting your head back giving him easier access.
"Taehyun.." you gasp slightly when you feel him nipping the already sensitive skin, smiling against it.
"Relax, ive got you" he mutters against the forming bruise, pulling back as he looks at your face, your breath coming in pants, throat bobbing as his eyes lock with yours.
He instantly captures your lips in a kiss, instantly giving him the power, as his hand cups your jaw, his lips soft against yours â a stark contrast to the intense and passionate way hes kissing you in.
One of his hands stays stationary on your jaw, tilting it up to meet him â the other travels down to your hip, holding you in place against him, pulling you down onto him, the stark contrast of his rough jeans pushed against your bare thighs. You choke into the kiss, your brain foggy, consumed and full of him. Whimpering as the tent forming below you stills against the soft lace of your panties, which have been drenched since he pulled you onto his lap.
"S'pretty for me baby.." Taehyun coos against your lips pulling away slightly earing a huff from you â instantly peppering soft kisses against the line of your jaw, your eyes scrunching as you enjoy the tingle of his lips against your jaw, your fingers carding through his hair â tugging against the strands when he gets to a sensitive spot by your ear, earning a soft groan from him.
"You're so perfect for me huh, baby? Making pretty sounds f'me" He whispers, his voice sharp, you can hear the desire in his voice as he grinds your core against the hilt of his jeans earning a surprised moan from you as he lets out an exasperated huff from the friction. His hands firm against your hips â most definitely leaving marks for tomorrow.
Your face buries into his shoulder moaning from the sudden and wanted pleasure, his lips reattaching to your neck. You whine mumbling into his shoulder. "Baby.." No actual malice or attempts to stop him.
"Shh, i got you â let go, okay baby?" He says softly pulling back from your neck, one hand tracing up and down your side â the action sending shivers down your spine. Nodding, giving into him as he smiles pressing a final fleeting kiss against your lips as he traces the seems of your shirt, fiddling with the hemmed lace as he glaces at you one final time making sure you're okay with it â no matter how many times you've done this he never stops asking to make sure you're okay.
Silently nodding â submitting fully for him as he lifts the edge of your shirt, signaling you to lift your arms as he pulls the loose sleep shirt off your frame, tossing it who knows where in the apartment. His lips immediately pressing against yours in a deep kiss, you can feel his control slipping moment by moment as one of his hands making quick work sneaking behind your back, skillfully unclasping your bra as he pulls back the other pulling your hips against him grinding against him through the thin layers of your panties and shorts onto his clothed bulge.
You both quickly break the heated kiss as he pulls the bra off your frame, the cold apartment air making you shiver slightly. Quickly pulling him back into the kiss, needy for him as you grind down against him, the friction barely grazing your clothed clit huffing in annoyance against his lips. Taehyun pulling back from the kiss only to connect back to your sensitive neck kissing down sweetly to your collarbone, all the while his hands move your hips shifting the position, angling it just right when you slip out a surprised moan at the sudden intense pleasure.
His lips sliding down from your neck to your collarbone, pressing hard kisses into the sensitive skin of your chest, making you moan, arching slightly into his touch, trying to escape it as he holds you down, your hips grinding down into his, making his moan into the skin.
"Always so soft for me huh, angel?" His remark remains unanswered â too into your own pleasure, your hips chasing his inching â begging for more pleasure. Soft whimpers filling the apartment with no regards for the neighbors who most definitely can hear the show happening.
Taehyun briefly pulling back â the sensation and pleasure from his lips hindering. You're about to protest when he pulls the collar of his shirt, throwing the fabric in the same direction of your forgotten shirt and bra. Dipping down to your chest, his lips latching on to your perked nipple, a strangled moan leaving your lips as you lean your head back on the edge of the couch, your body desperately trying to escape the pleasure with no luck, Taehyun's hands keeping you pressed against him, knowing your body better than you do.
The duel sensation of Taehyun's mouth on your chest and every so often his bulge unapologetically humping against your clit makes you feel overwhelmed â in the best way, your hands unable to decide if they are pulling him closer to your chest or pulling him off â squirming under his touch. Its nearly too much, feeling every part of him at once, but its also so not enough at the same time. Almost sensing it he switches his attention to the neglected bud, one of his hands snaking up pressing his thumb over the slicked sensitive bud, the cool air adding to the list of overwhelming sensations. Your hips grinding against his in rhythm trying to keep up with need for pleasure.
Taehyun is in his own head, full of you, all of his senses are overtaken by you, the grind of your clothed head against him not enough â nipping your bud earning a yelp from you as he pulls back, the only thing connecting you is a string of saliva as he looks up at you, his eyes big, dark, full of desire, needy for you.
you couldn't tell if you moaned from him â or the way he looks at you, both making you feel things. Your brain foggy with pleasure, the only thing you can think about is him, how he feels, how he made you feel â how you need more.
Taehyun, ever knowing you, pulls you from his lap, manhandling you into laying on the couch, instinctively arching into him as you lose all feeling of him you whine for him, he quickly silences it leaning over you pressing a kiss onto your lips, you chase him, one hand lacing into his hair pulling him back down, the other going further down his chest, tracing over his chest, then abs, earning a low moan from him.
Your hand blinding tracing down his toned body, getting to his very prominent and painfully neglected bulge, fiddling around trying to unbutton the jeans while still chasing his lips, he reluctantly breaks the kiss gasping slightly as your hand cups him through his jeans, leaning his forehead in the crook of your neck, panting at the sudden stimulation.
Pulling back, still half kneeling on the couch he unbuttons his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them off, soon to join the pile of long forgotten clothes. Still in his boxers, proving useless as his cock can still be seen, a wet patch of pre-cum wetting the fabric from the previous grinding you did against him.
his breathing is coming out in pants, shutting his eyes to try and regain some self control, but its hard when you are laying beneath him â looking up at him doe eyed, soft, all spread out for him, your chest moving up and down from your uneven breathes, you looked divine, ethereal; his gaze darkening, you look so perfect, needy, pliant for him, you would truly do anything for him â he'd do anything for you too, unable to think about anything but you and your pleasure.
You lay beneath him, your breath coming out unevenly and jagged, brain foggy â purely thinking of him, how you miss him how you need him on you, to feel him.
He shifts positions, his legs on either side of your hips as he leans down, one hand secure on the arm of the couch, affectively caging you in. The other holding your jaw as he leans in his lips attaching to yours, his lips moving slowly, savoring you before his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, allowing him access as his tongue dominates yours, moaning into the kiss.
Your fingers dragging up his chest curling onto his biceps, grounding you. The kiss heated, full of desire and desperation as your hips grind up against his clothed cock, desperate for any pleasure, moaning into the kiss as he hisses from the sudden sensitivity. His lips part from yours, leaving your breathing uneven, desperate for him you start to whine.
"Baby, please.." You shift under him squirming â trying to chase any sort of friction for pleasure. "What do you want, angel hm?" his voice rough but contained. "You, always you Taehyun.." Your tone desperate, clinging to him desperate for any connection to him.
"Always asking so nicely f'me, such a good girl aren't you?" He coos in your ear as you arch into him, trying to chase his movements.
"Wanna feel you.. please?" You phrase it as a question but it was never a question to him â he would do whatever you wanted, what he knew you needed. His lips trailing down the already marked up skin, his lips wandering down from your neck to your collarbone to your cleavage nipping at your sensitive buds earning a yelp from you. smiling against your skin as he continues leaving a path of wet kisses all over your skin, the cold air nipping at the trail of wet skin making you shiver against him.
Holding your hips down as nips at the skin on your stomach then soothing the spot with his tongue. Looking up at you every so often gauging your reaction. Your eyes scrunched closed feeling him everywhere your chest rising and falling with uneven breathes.
His mouth ghosts over the lace of your pajama shorts, glancing up at you for a moment before speaking." This okay still, sweet girl?" Your brain empty besides him, you nod, your hip trying to meet his touches. He hums in amusements sliding down on the couch as he traces the lace, drawing it out as you whine. He may be the most loving boyfriend but cant resist teasing you.
Loving the sounds you make when your needy, begging him for more â knowing hes the only one who could make you like this â for now.
his fingers skim past the waist band, ghosting over your clothed cunt a soft moan escaping from you as you twist your head trying to hide your moans. Now eye level with your clothed cunt, Swallowing the lump in his throat, the lust taking over his as he presses a soft, teasing kiss to your covered clit, whimpering under his gaze and feeling the relief of him finally touching you where you need.
Taehyun continuing to tease you â suck your sensitive clit through the fabric of your soaked panties, just barely enough to feel it but still driving both of you crazy. "So pretty under me.." mumbling against your mound, the words barely processing, the overwhelming feeling of too much and not enough overtaking you.
"Taehyun stop teasing me, please.." You beg, so close to finally getting what you need. Taehyun satisfied with your begging presses a final kiss to your clothed clit before shifting, his fingers catching the waist band of your shorts, tapping your hip to lift, lifting your hips as he slowly, painstakingly slips the pieces of useless fabric off your frame. the only thing connecting you is a string of slick sticking your panties. The sight earning a groan from Taehyun as he throws them aside.
Taking you in, basking in how pretty you look for him; naked, fully giving yourself to him. Feeling his gaze on you, your thighs instinctively try and shut, his large hands stopping you, pressing a sloppy kiss onto the inner of your thigh, his hand tracing up it.
"Patience, sweet girl â or we stop, Got it?" He warned you as you relax into him. His strong hands pulling your thighs apart as he takes you in, your cunt glossy from soaking through your panties, one last time he blows on it, the cold air shocking you â you pout, he raises his brows smiling slightly as he nips the skin of your thigh. Pressing open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, centimeters from where you need him to be.
"Please.." you gasp as you feel his breath against your soaked core. He hums as he brings his fingers to it, spreading the slick earning a few breathed moans from you. His own breath ragged as he watches your hole clench around nothing.
Finally, pressing a soft kiss to your clit â Your hands immediately attaching to his hair one arm cage around your thigh keeping you there. The other stays on your pussy, keeping you open as he kitten licks your clit, just enough to make you crazy.
His tongue leaving you clit, only to lick up your slit, the room filling with your soft ragged moans. Diving in, his lips attach back to your clit sucking hard â your fingers pulling his hair making him moan into your pussy â the vibrations pushing you even further.
His grip on your thigh tightens as he dives impossibly further into your cunt, lapping up every drop you make, his lips leaving your clit but not straying far, his tongue inching into your slit, licking up everything you give. Your nails scratching at his scalp, the pleasure unreal â almost too much, yet not enough.
His tongue tracing the entrance of your hole, his nose nudging your clit bring you duel sensation â your back arching up to grind against his face, chasing the pleasure, his tongue broaching your tight hole earning a string of high pitched moans, one of your arms covering your eyes the other gripping hard in his hair.
His free hand snake downs rubbing smooth, firm circles on your clit as his tongue assaults your hole â its too much â so good, you can feel yourself getting close to your limit, wriggling under his touch, grinding mindlessly against his face chasing your orgasm.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his movements quicken, sensing your impending orgasm, the apartment full of your sounds â from your loud moans, to the squelching of your slick against him. His movements making you see stars â the contrast of his fingers toying sensitive sensitive clit, and his tongue roughly pulling you closer to your orgasm â its too much.
"T-Taehyun, fuck please please!-" You don't know what your begging for; for him to slow down or go faster â your back arching into him, basically humping his face â to no complains of him, his senses are full of you, your sweet slick covering his face as he moans int your pussy.
"You're close aren't you huh?" his tongue retracts from your pulsating hole earing a whine â shortly cut off when his fingers fasten on your clit, moving just right. His eyes focused, as he watches you his gaze drifting slightly a smirk playing on his lips as he focuses on you coming undone under him.
"Come for me, pretty, let go, that's it good girl." He coos, you feel his eyes on you, its teetering on overstimulation, but the mix of his voice â his praise and the attack on your clit makes you go over the edge. Your orgasm washing over you, your moans and whimpers streaming out uncontrollable as you move under him trying to escape the overstimulation. His fingers slow down, not halting coaxing you through your orgasm with soft praises you can barely register.
When your breathing finally evens out, you wince from the overstimulation to your clit. He hums, his gaze not on you as he presses a final kiss to your clit â gasping as you take a deep breathe. When you pull your arm back from your eyes you look down at him, his hair a mess, sweat coating him â your slick covering the better half of his face. You were expecting him to be looking at you, like he always did but no.
His eyes lingered behind you, using all your strength you tilt your head back, your blood running cold âBeomgyu.
Beomgyu â standing there, his eyes wide, the bag you assume he was previously holding fallen on the floor, the contents surrounding it. His hand twitching at his side, his gaze solely on you, his eyes
Beomgyu â standing there, his eyes wide, the bag you assume he was previously holding fallen on the floor, the contents surrounding it. His hand twitching at his side, his gaze solely on you, his eye going from your face to your boobs then to Taehyun â unable to gauge his reaction from your blissed out state.
When your head finally clears you look at him, then at Taehyun â who was smirking â he knew, you now knew, Beomgyu clueless and short circuiting doesn't know what to do.
Taehyun doesn't move away â no, his hand previously on your clit runs down to your slit, a gasp falling from your lips as you scrunch your eyes shut. His fingers gathering your release on his finger, his other hand grabbing your face, signally you to open. Your mouth opens for him as you suck your release from his fingers, moaning around them as he tilts your head back, making eye contact with the still frozen Beomgyu, who has barely moved from his spot, his chest rising up and down.
Taehyun quickly removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing them back down to your slit, catching your hole. Your voice breaks into a moan, still unable to look away from Beomgyu as Taehyun's fingers press into your tight hole, curling against your gummy walls.
The room is silent, so to speak, not really â the room full on heavy breathing, the wet sound of Taehyun's fingers curling into your hole, your moans. The room is devoid of talking the lack of words being said, heavy â the room full of tension and not one word has been said since Beomgyu came in.
Taehyun doesn't look at you â hes looking at Beomgyu, his fingers curling deep into your sensitive hole, soft at first, almost testing if you were ready. Beomgyu's eyes lock with Taehyun's, your soft whimpering becoming background noise hard not to focus on. When finally, Taehyun breaks the silence.
"Either get out, or sit down and watch â Nothing you haven't heard before, hm?" His tone mocking, but his words honest. An invite â or an exit, hes giving him an out he knows Beomgyu wont take. Beomgyu finally snaps out of his trance, His legs moving without being told, sitting on the small arm chair opposite of the one currently being used.
Beomgyu's eyes meet yours, holding contact. When Taehyun is satisfied with Beomgyu's position he silently turns his attention back on you, Your hole clenching around his fingers from Beomgyu's gaze on you. He lets out an amused hum. "Such a slut, huh? getting all worked up by Gyu catching us?" His voice condescending as his fingers thrust meanly into you, The walls echoing the sound of your moans.
Beomgyu thinks hes dreaming, I mean sure hes dreamed of it too many times â but being here watching you, a dream couldn't be this good. The tent in his pants growing unfairly painful, one of his hands palms the clothed erection, forcing a pathetic moan from his lips, making you moan hearing it, causing a cycle of yours and Beomgyu's moans.
Taehyun's eyes look over to Beomgyu, his best friend â palming himself through his pants, watching you, and himself. "Never said you could touch yourself, i said watch" Taehyun spat out, his tone malice â taking it out on your poor sweet pussy, his fingers plunging against the sweet gummy spot making you arch into him, chasing the pleasure, trying to grind down into his fingers.
Beomgyu's hand retracts, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair, his leg drumming up and down, feeling helpless â just watching you, yearning to feel you.
"Taehyun!- please, god m'soâ" You can barely speak, Taehyun's assault on your pussy, his fingers pressing and hitting the right spot over and over again â your brain switching off. "What do you need pretty? Wanna come for us? Give Gyu a show." He coos softly, his thumb gliding back to your clit, swollen and neglected. His thumb rubbing harsh, tight circles on your throbbing clit as you cry out for him.
Tears forming in the corners of your eyes, shaking under Taehyun's body and Beomgyu's piercing gaze, You can feel your orgasm crashing over you soon, clenching around His fingers, your eyes rolling back into your head, squirming.
Taehyun focuses back on Beomgyu, who looks wrecked and disheveled. "You spent every night listening' through the walls, Imagining it was you hm? You still wish it was you, but no â I'm letting you watch and you haven't even said thank you?"
Beomgyu's eyes widen, his mouth dry, his voice unsteady. "Thank you." He barely musters out, Taehyun hums.
Beomgyu's brain working overtime trying to process when he looks at you, perfect, your thighs trembling , your boobs moving every time your arch into Taehyun's touch, layer of sweat that makes you look irresistible.
His eyes meet yours, glossy and tearful â eyebrows furrowed as you look at him, helpless.
He recognizes the signs â through the walls every night, when you're about to cum. Hes preparing himself, he can feel himself throbbing, a part of him convinced he might come untouched just by finally watching you.
You can feel it finally pushing over the edge, the pleasure bubbling, Taehyun's fingers making a mess of you, you're about to come all over his fingers, in front of Beomgyu.
Then Taehyun stops.
You can feel the pleasure fading as Taehyun withdraws his fingers from your aching hole â tears finally falling, from being so close and it being taken away from you. seizing under Taehyun's body trying desperately to cling to the last hope of your orgasm.
You immediately try and protest, "Taehyu â" He cuts you off with a look silencing your protests.
He gets up from in between your thighs, standing tall over your worn out frame. Leaning down between your thighs, gathering the slick from your core making you whimper, looking at his fingers, sticky from your slick coating them.
Taehyun gets up from the couch, standing over both you and Beomgyu, his gaze focused on Beomgyu, looking up at him from the chair eyes glossy and his lips red and bitten. Walking to him, standing over him.
"Suck." Taehyun's voice breaking the silence Beomgyu exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding. Beomgyu looks up at him, his eyes dark and wide. Taehyun's hand not covered in your slick holds the boys chin up as Beomgyu's soft lips wrap around Taehyun's fingers.
Beomgyu moans at the taste of you â sweet, salty â perfection. His eyes shut, savoring the flavor of you, Beomgyu's hands grasp onto Taehyun's thighs â sucking hard on his fingers trying to get every drop of your previous, and failed orgasm off Taehyun's fingers. His eyes open, looking helplessly up at Taehyun, who lets out a groan at the view below him.
Taehyun removes his fingers from Beomgyu's mouth, to his dismay trying to chase the fingers as they are taken from him. Quickly Taehyun dips down to Beomgyu's level, replacing his fingers with his mouth. His tongue forcing its way into Beomgyu's mouth. Beomgyu whimpers into the kiss â his hands moving up tangling into Taehyun's hair.
The kiss is messy, their tongues swapping your essence between them, both boys moaning into the kiss, their tongues clashing, fighting for dominance â Beomgyu happily gives to Taehyun; addicted to the taste of you in between them.
You're sitting there, watching them, the sight of the two boys making our, sharing your cum between them is too much, its erotic â Taehyun forcing the older boy into submission, dominating his mouth.
You instinctively start rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction, still sensitive from your failed orgasm you let out a small pitched moan â catching the attention of the boys.
Taehyun pulls back from Beomgyus lips â a string of spit connecting them as Beomgyu whines from the loss of contact. Not yet focusing on you he pushes his thumb into Beomgyu's mouth pressing down on his tongue making Beomgyu moan; sucking his thumb, never breaking eye contact with him
"Such a boy boy, hm?" Taehyun purrs, removing his thumb from Beomgyus mouth running the spit spit soaked digit against his pouted out bottom lip. You cant take it â your hands move before your brain, your fingers snake down your body, rubbing small soft circles on your clit â the relief and pleasure instant but not enough.
The boys snapping out of their daze with each other turn their attention on you. A small sound leaves your lips as the boys stare back at you.
"So needy hm? Planned this all for you and he hasn't even got to touch you yet huh?" He tsks feigning fake compassion as he tilts Beomgyus chin up to him.
"Go on, You've been listening to us for months, you can finally get a taste, huh pup?" Taehyun pulls away from Beomgyu who looks like a kid in a candy shop. Standing from the chair â his legs feeling like mush as he walks over to you falling to his knees in front of you his whole body shaking from desire â from finally getting to taste you, to feel you. Every fantasy he thinks about when he fucks his fist, listening to you through the walls â coming to reality.
Beomgyu looks up at you, his eyes resembling a puppy waiting for a treat â which in this case pretty much describes Beomgyu. He's vibrating in front of you, from nerves and excitement. Taehyun moves to sit next to you on the couch, not touching â just observing you both.
"You've spent so much time listening to what she likes, why not put it into actions hm, show us if you've learnt anything from being a little pervert." He mocks Beomgyu â but it doesn't phase him, it turns him on. Your legs automatically spread for the boy in front of you, he moans. Moans at the sight of you, the smell of you, hes drooling almost â about to cum in his pants like a teenager. He looks over at Taehyun, almost like asking permission; hes hesitant and Taehyun can sense it.
Taehyun who can tell your impatient â you keep trying to press your thighs together. He takes the lead, grabbing the back of Beomgyus head tangling his fingers in his hair earning a whimper from him, pushing his head into your pussy.
After the shock wears off he immediately moans into your core, his hands gripping your thighs â which are caging him in, making him unable to leave, not like he ever wants to. Hes lapping up your juices, plunging his tongue deep into your sopping hole, earning a wince from you as you lean your head back a string of moans leaving your lips.
His nose nudges your clit as his tongue thrusts in and out of your tight hole. occasionally looking up at you and Taehyun to make sure hes doing it right. He doesn't stop â no he never wants to, hes right where he wants to be. His ears ring only focusing on pleasuring you, sucking and licking up all your juices.
You don't know what to feel, the sensation of Beomgyu in between your thighs and Taehyuns eyes piercing you its too much. You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching from Taehyun edging you earlier. Taehyun notices your state, leaning int you his fingers on your jaw as he pulls you into a soft heated kiss â you can faintly taste yourself on his tongue from when he was kissing Beomgyu.
Moaning from the kiss, the thoughts and Beomgyus endless prodding of your hole and faint stimulation to your aching bud its so perfectly enough. You pull from the kiss moaning and whimpering, your whole body shaking as Beomgyus actions speed up, his fingers digging into your thighs, his nails leaving small crescent shapes that will be sore later.
Beomgyu feels your pussy clenching around his tongue â your sign you're about to come. Taehyun presses a soft kiss to your jawline muttering as he pulls back, his eyes catching Beomgyu.
"so rude to Beomgyu, haven't even said thank you to him, after hes eating you so well hm? Thought you had better manners, bad girls don't cum, bunny."
You whimper at him denying your orgasm, your brain working overtime trying to form words. "Thank you, thank you, thank you â oh my god please, Beomie please â" You whimper, saying Beomgyus name when really it was Taehyun you were begging.
The sounds of your begging and pleas go straight to Beomgyus dick, making him moan into your pussy.
Taehyun hums, as if hes deciding if you deserve it. "Go on, been so good for us."
You could cry â you are crying, your orgasm hitting you like a truck, you cant stop shaking. Beomgyus movements don't stop, they slow â helping you ride out the orgasm. Tears falling, soft sniffles as you wince from overstimulation but Beomgyu doesn't move. Lapping up all of your cum, greedy for it.
Its not till Taehyun pulls Beomgyu off you feel at ease, looking down at him, the lower half of his jaw soaked from spit and your cum, but he looks so happy â full of bliss his pupils blown out, you're nearly convinced he enjoyed it more than you.
Beomgyu pulls himself up, crawling on top of you as his lips meet yours desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue, moaning into the kiss â your hand threading his hair, the other pulling at the collar of his sweatshirt, breaking the kiss to pull it off â the soft thud of the sweatshirt falling making it long forgotten.
Your lips move down his jaw, down his neck dipping down and traveling over his chest â your teeth trailing over his nipple earning a high pitched moan from him before he pulls away. quickly standing up pushing both his sweatpants and boxers down, shrugging them off.
Taehyun pulling you against him, your back against his bare chest, feeling him through the thin layer of his boxers as Beomgyu straddles your hips. His dick hitting his stomach as his chest rises from his uneven breathing â looking between you and Taehyun, unsure if this is okay.
"Use your words, you always imagined this, you tell him what you want, angel." Taehyun whispers in your ear, his eyes never leaving Beomgyu as you shift your hips, unintentionally grinding against Taehyuns painful bulge, hissing as he steadies your hip, looking up at Beomgyu.
"Wanna feel you, please, inside me â god i need it so bad." Your lower lip trembling â feeling so needy for both of the boys. Beomgyu whimpers at your pleas â sucking in a breath, muttering something under his breath as he moves in between your thighs.
Your legs wrap around his hips, desperately trying to get him closer, Being caged between the two men heightening all your senses, your eyes don't know where to go â looking back at Taehyun who's rock hard beneath you, or Beomgyu.
Beomgyus hand thinks for itself, teasing his dick, his tip sticky with pre-cum which hes uses to prep himself. His thumb brushing over his bright red tip, swiping across the sensitive slit making him whimper. He mumbles curses and encouragements under his breath that you cant quite catch, but Taehyun does, laughing slightly, feeling the vibrations on your back.
Beomgyu gasps as he rubs his tip against your entrance â already feeling overstimulated from your past orgasms he doesn't tease â hes been wanting this for so long he cant wait any longer, lining up with your hole he sinks in.
It takes a moment before hes fully in you â but you can feel him everywhere. Hes not as thick as Taehyun but longer â the stretch making you see stars. The man above you a whimpering mess, the room devoid of silence â his pathetic whimpers bouncing off the walls as he tries not to come instantly at your tight walls sucking him in. He stills in you, with the occasional rut and whimper when you clench around him.
When he finally starts moving its like fireworks â pleasure instant as he thrusts into you, broken moans falling from both of your lips. He moves fast, pounding into your cunt, like if he stops it will disappear, treating you like his personal pocket pussy.
Taehyun watching the scene unfold gets impatient, while you're blissed out he maneuvers his boxers off, his hand snaking down to your clit tapping it and rubbing fast on it making you scream out, clenching so hard you nearly push Beomgyu out, making Beomgyu wince in pleasure.
"So good for us huh baby? think you can take both of us?" he murmurers in your ear, The thought of taking both cocks at once makes your mouth water, whimpering at the thought, and from Beomgyus broken moan, he agrees.
Taehyun shifting your position as Beomgyu stops moving, slowly pushing in, feeling your walls clench around him he moans â holding your hip steady â almost pushing both of them out.
The stretch is unreal â painful in the most pleasurable way possible. Feeling so full its making you brainless.
Beomgyu cant take it as he desperately ruts into you, earning a hiss from Taehyun and a strangled gasp from you.
"Be good or you watch, simple." His words sharp, a demand â a punishment if provoked. Beomgyu doesn't respond just a whimper and a nod.
When the painful stretch dulls you nod, the boys making eye contact before they both move.
They both begin thrusting, Taehyuns control snapping as he roughly pounds into the shared hole â Beomgyu trying to keep up, whimpering from the sensation of you and Taehyun against him. The momentum causing both of them to fuck int you mercilessly, feeling them everywhere.
Both boys in your hole, Taehyuns fingers making quick work of your clit, Beomgyus hands gripping hard on your hips â your thighs whenever he can grasp.
Your orgasm hits you like a train â hard and sudden, the room filled with the wet sounds of the boys pounding into you, riding you through your orgasm.
Beomgyus crashes over him when you ride through yours â desperately thrusting into you chasing his release through you â his personal wet dream and fleshlight, cumming hard â his cum coming out in thick ropes in your tight pussy, still rutting through the orgasm, unable to stop even when painful.
Taehyuns comes quickly soon after, edging himself all night â watching you both get off sends him off the rails, his hand trailing off your clit grabbing onto Beomgyu's hip pushing him further in, earning exasperated moans from both you and Beomgyu that pushes Taehyun to his orgasm. Cum streaming out of your hole.
After who knows how long, the boys pull out â earning a wince from you. Beomgyu watches as both the boys loads trickle down your thighs onto the sofa. You collapse back onto Taehyun who brushes hair from your face peppering soft kisses on your shoulder, Beomgyu falls down onto your stomach wrapping his arms around your waist burying himself into your stomach.
As your eyes flutter shut you can barely hear the conversation the boys are having, drifting in and out of awareness.
"You could have just asked, instead of listening in like a weirdo." Taehyuns voice calm and amused as his fingers thread your hair.
"You didn't have to lie to me and tell me to come home asap too." Beomgyu resorts flicking Taehyuns thigh looking up at him from your stomach.
"Ill remember that for next time."
an: holy shit this was A PROCESS. spent days working on it. alot of crash outs and sprints fjjfoiweo ty to my love friends who helped me thru it :(( im very aware this isnt the best smut but its also my first piece so yeahhhh, this was also meant to be a 600 follower special but its closer to a 700 follow one... ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYED REBLOGS AND COMMENTS R ALWAYS APPRECIATED
general taglist: @nanilis @hoonsocks @sweethoons @izzyy-stuff @yvampyr @kookiesnkim @owlieuwu @seungminsslut
synopsis: you're a sweet recluse who allows her home to be Jason's safe house. What happens when he starts to get too close to you?
The screen door creaks open late one evening. Jason Todd steps inside your little kitchen like it's a habit, almost as though he's lived here all his life. In truth, you'd only known Jason for about two months now since he came stumbling to your doorstep one stormy evening. Things seemed to pass in a blur since then.
Jason's shoulders are tense beneath the fabric of his jacket, bruised from the constant fights he participates in. His jaw is sore and his knuckles are split from punching again. He's already in one of his moods.
He kicks off his boots by the door without looking, the way he always does, listening to the familiar sound of dirty soles thunking against the wood floor. Then, he heads straight to the sink like he's on autopilot, having memorized the layout of your house like it's his own. He doesn't even need to look down to where the fluffy hand towels are as he dries his hands.
There's a plate of dinner waiting on the table that's still hot and steaming, and you're standing near the counter, looking at him like he didn't just come home covered in bruises and blood. You're smiling in the cutesy, innocent way you always do. The way that boils Jason's blood in both a bad, and really good way.
"Hi, Jay," you say, your voice smooth like honey as you look up at him with big, sparkly eyes, like he's just your husband coming home late from work.
Jason swears under his breath and marches through the kitchen, hovering around you for a moment, before muttering a gruff "Hello." in return, slumping down into his usual seat at the dinner table, looking down at tonight's meal.
The plate's got roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and a pile of vegetables on the side. It's very balanced. It looks like food you'd see in a magazine with a recipe underneath. You cooked. Again. Like you do every night.
"Thought you might be hungry," you say, cheeks all pink from the stove's heat, or maybe just from looking at him. You get so bashful when he stares. "You want me to get you a knife or anything else?"
"No. S' fine." he grumbles, picking up a fork to start stabbing at his vegetables. You nod, still smiling all cute as you take out a jug of lemonade for him and pour him a class without asking, setting it down beside his plate, right before leaning down to press the softest, most innocent kiss to his cheek. Right near the cut on his jaw, his sweet spot. "Glad you're home safe."
Jason goes still at the feeling, a little grunt leaving him involuntarily. The second your lips brush over him, it's as though every muscle in his body tenses. His eyes flick to you, but you're already walking away, humming to yourself like you didn't screw him over with that little gesture.
What the hell are you doing, letting a guy like him into your house? Letting him sleep in the extra bedroom you cleaned just for him and eat off your table without asking for compensation? What kind of sweet, naive girl lets a man with knives and guns in his duffel bag and scars up his back and shoulders stay in her house like he's not dangerous?
"You shouldn't do that," he grumbles as you have your back turned to him, a deep scowl on his face. You blink, turning back toward him, confusion soft in your eyes. "Do what?"
"You know what I mean. The kissin'. The..." his voice gets tight, jaw ticking, "...the 'Jay' with your little giggle. Don't."
"Don't act like we're friends?' you ask, so innocently, head tilted in a way that makes him want to pounce on you. "We are friends."
Jason clenches his jaw. His fingers curl around the fork, knuckles white. "You should be more wary, is all" he mutters, frowning as you respond with a little huff and a playful eye roll, going over to check on the pies you made for dessert that are cooling on a rack.
He stares at the curves of your body, gaze panning from your hips, down to your thighs, and back up to your ass, plump in the cute little nightgown you're wearing, with the hem riding up your thighs enough to show your panties if you bent over. He can't take his eyes off of you, not for a second. He's looking at you to figure out how someone like you could possibly be real, let alone a part of his life. You feed him. You made him a safe house with gingham curtains and a soft bed and dinner waiting on the table every night without fail.
He's coiled so tight it feels like his skin doesn't fit right, seeing you flutter around the kitchen like everything's fine, apron tied snugly around your waist. You turn and meet his gaze again as he continues.
"Why aren't you scared of me?" Jason mutters all gruff, pushing back his chair and standing. His eyes are all dark and stormy. "You let a guy like me in your house. You give me food, a bed, clothes. You let me walk around your kitchen like I belong here." He steps forward slowly. "You don't even lock your fucking door."
Your throat bobs as you swallow, but your expression doesn't change. That soft, quiet sweetness still on your face like you've never even heard a threat before.
"I don't have to lock it because the only person who comes around here is you, and I know you."
Jason's frown deepens, and he crowds your space, hissing at you coldly. "You don't know shit about me." He stares down at you, jaw clenched, breathing through his nose. He keeps coming closer and closer to you, all while you don't even realize what you're doing to him, standing there in your cozy little kitchen, smelling like a dessert.
His body pushes you back into the counter, his jaw is clenched and lips twisted in a snarl. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, his voice rising. "You let me in here. You open your house up to someone like me and think I'm not gonna hurt you? You think I'm just gonna be your lil' prince charming?"
He shoves his hand against the counter beside you, trapping you in place. His face is inches from yours, but this time, you don't see the same tired, frustrated guy you've been taking care of. This time, all you see is the threat, the dangerous man who doesn't think you should have trusted him at all.
"I could strangle you, you know," he says all soft. His hand shoots out, quick and brutal, grabbing your neck just below your chin. "You think I wouldn't do it? You think I wouldn't snap your neck like a twig if I wanted to?"
Your pulse spikes. His grip isn't tight enough to suffocate you, just enough to make your heart pound harder. "Or what if I wanted to cut you?" His thumb presses into the side of your neck. he's learned you can make someone pass out if you push there hard and long enough. wouldn't take long if he did it to you, though. another reminder of how fragile you really are. "What if I wanted to steal everything in your house and leave you with nothing?"
You look up at him, whimpering softly at the feeling of his huge hand wrapping around your throat. Your smaller one grabs at his wrist, staring up at him with big, glassy eyes. "J-jason..."
"What if I wanted to tear off one of those flimsy lil' dresses you wear around me and fuck you?" He lets out a low mumble, tipping your head up and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip. "You think they're cute, huh? You think I don't notice the way you dress like 'm not gonna want to tear you apart?"
Your breath hitches, and for a second, you can't find your words. He's crowding you now, pinning you to the counter so you have no way out. His thumb pushes harder on your lower lip.
You stare at him, your face flushed. Your chest is rising fast now, like you're trying to keep calm, like your body's betraying you even if your voice hasn't cracked yet. You're not saying anything, but your fear's loud enough without words.
Jason's still holding onto your throat, the heel of his hand digging into your pressure point while his thumb smushes against your soft lips. His chest heaves with each breath, his face twisted up even though deep down, he's thoroughly enjoying himself. He relishes in the slight tremble your body gives and the way you look up at him like you're starting to realize he's not savable.
He leans down to your level. "You scared now, sweetheart?" he mutters. You try to speak, but it catches in your throat. He can feel it under his hand, that flutter in your pulse. "Yeah," he breathes. "That's what I thought."
He tilts his head, leaning down to slot his mouth over your cheek, mocking the little kisses you always give him when he's home. He moans against your skin, starting to press sloppy kisses down to your jaw. He's done holding back, finally indulging in the terrible, heinous thoughts he's had about you since you let him into your home.
His hands roam under your dress, hiking it up to squeeze the globes of your ass, all while you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut.
He kisses up the side of your throat and up to your ear, huffing low so you hear every bit of how hot he is for you. "Lemme show you what bad men do to pretty girls who play house with 'em."
his hands move again. they don't stay in place for long. he's very unpredictable. one moves back to grip on your throat, while the other hand drags up the back of your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your nightgown until his rough fingers find bare skin. his breathing is ragged now, lips pressed to the curve of your neck like he's trying to inhale you.
"You smell s'sweet," he growls, nose brushing the soft skin beneath your jaw. "Always smell so fuckin' sweet."
He's spreading you apart before your brain can comprehend it, lifting you up with his free hand to guide you up onto the counter, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. Slotting his body between your legs, he looks down at your pretty cotton panties. Just as adorable as you, all lacy and pastel like you didn't have a clue what they'd do to him.
Jason huffs a breath through his nose, low and unsteady, staring at the soaked little patch in the middle. "Fuck," he mutters, dragging his thumb over the wet spot slowly and teasingly. "Look at this. You want me like this." His hand grips your thigh to keep you open, his gaze locked on your panties as he takes two fingers and pushes them up against your panties so he can trace your plump little pussy through the fabric, firm enough to make you twitch.
You jolt, grabbing onto his shoulder while your tummy flips. "Mmh... i-its good... b-but 'm sensitive..." you warn softly, trying to fight against his grip ever so slightly, but he keeps you spread for him with his firm hand. Your breath catches when he starts tugging your panties to the side, baring the warm air of the kitchen onto your even warmer hole.
His hand grips your hip, anchoring you in place while he teases your entrance with the pads of his fingers, just barely pressing in. You let out a strangled little sound, back arching as he slowly presses a finger inside you with a low groan. Your body clenches around him and it makes him twitch, a guttural sound leaving his chest. "Fuck, you're tight," he mutters, nose nuzzling yours. "So fuckin' warm. This pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't she?" You nod helplessly, eyes wide, lips parted as he pumps his finger inside you slow and filthy. He watches you fall apart for him, cheeks flushed and pretty little moans leaving your mouth with every curl of his finger.
His thick digit curls just right inside you, slow and deep, while his thumb rubs circles around your clit, not too quick, just firm and steady like he's testing how fast he can get you to fall apart. You whimper again, your hips rolling into his hand without thinking.
He watches the little faces you make while you're in heat like this, as well as the way your body reacts to his touch. His eyes are locked on the place where his finger disappears inside you with that delicious squelch, and once you're relaxed, he slides in a second to fill you up even more. You jerk, nightgown bunching up more at your waist as he shoves his fingers deep inside you, wanting to see how tight you can squeeze around them.
"Damn," he mumbles, "You're squeezin' the fuck outta me." His free hand grabs your thigh harder when you flinch back, nails digging just a little into your flesh to keep you still and wide open for him. He leans in, breathing heavy against your cheek as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit while his fingers keep stroking inside you, that slow, steady rhythm that's driving you crazy because it's just enough to have you trembling, but not enough to tip you over.
You whine out a soft "Jay," all desperate and teary eyed, your grip on his shoulders tightening as your legs start to shake. You don't even realize you're grinding down onto his hand until he growls, "Yeah⌠that's it. Use your words. You need it that bad, don't you?"
He keeps his face close to yours, eyes flicking between your mouth and your eyes, watching how dazed you look already, lips all swollen and wet from how much you've been panting. "Feels 's good! M-more..." You whine, your body starting to move on its own, hips rolling into his hand, trying to chase the pressure that's curling in your gut.
Jason doesn't let up. He just keeps fucking you with his fingers, deep and slow, his thumb pressed firm to your clit, working you in tight little circles until your legs are twitching and your mouth is open like you're gasping for air.
"You're already gonna cum, huh?" he murmurs, voice low and thick. "Already cryin' on my fingers like a needy little thing." You nod, head falling back against the cabinet behind you, your breath coming in short, desperate little bursts. " 'M gonna...Jay, I...I'm gonna..."
"Come, then," he orders, eyes locked on yours. "Cum on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how sweet this fuckin' pussy is."
You shatter around him body locking up tight before it all melts down at once, your orgasm crashing over you so hard you can't even stay upright without holding onto him. Your whole body trembles and he watches it all, jaw clenched, eyes dark and blown wide with how fucked he is for you.
He keeps his fingers inside you even after, not pulling out until you're twitching too much to take it, and even then, he pulls back slow, glancing down at the mess he made of you. He brings his fingers to his mouth without even thinking, licking them clean while he keeps his eyes on your face.
Then he leans in, mumbling in your ear. "You made a mess on my hand,"
Jason's gaze drops down to the tent in his jeans, thick and straining against the zipper, and he lets out a breath that sounds more like a growl.
"Take my cock out," he says roughly, eyes never leaving yours. Your fingers tremble a little as they reach for his belt, heart hammering in your chest while you work it loose, the clink of the buckle loud in the quiet kitchen. Jason's eyes are burning into your face the whole time, watching the way you fumble a little, the way your lips part and your breathing gets uneven while you tug his belt free, then pop open the button on his jeans.
You slide the zipper down slow, hands shaking just the tiniest bit, but you don't stop.
He helps you just enough to shove his jeans down his hips, groaning softly when you reach into his briefs and wrap your fingers around him. He's thick and hot and already leaking against your palm, and the second you touch him, his whole body stiffens.
"Jesus," he mumbles, chest rising and falling hard. You glance up at him through your lashes, a little dazed and shy, but your hand stays wrapped around him as you stroke him once, then twice, making his head fall forward, forehead bumping into yours while he groans.
He looks into your eyes, his voice all rough and shaking with how close he is to snapping. "You're gonna do it, alright? Not me." he says, jaw clenched. "You're gonna show me how dirty you are, and take me in your hand, and you're gonna line me up with that sweet little pussy like this was your fuckin' idea."
You nod even though you're buzzing and feel your body burning, and he watches you slowly wrap your hand snugly around his cock, his face close to yours as you guide him between your legs.
"Yeah," he mumbles, watching your face. "Just like that." You whimper when the head of his cock bumps against your entrance, slick and warm, and Jason moans low in his throat at the feel of you, the head of him just barely pushing inside.
Your fingers tremble as you line the head of him up with your entrance, glancing up at him as you press him against your folds. "It's so hard," you whisper, all breathless. "Your cock..."
"I know," He responds, watching you continue to guide him, soaked folds parting around the flushed head, barely nudging it in just enough for both of you to feel that first slide. " 's... fuck... c-cause I want you s'bad." He hunches over you a little, mouth hanging open as you finally line him up just right. His tip catches on your soaked entrance and he groans deeply, forehead pressing to yours again like he's trying to stay tethered to something.
He pants, grinding the head against you, not pushing in all the way yet, smearing your wetness all over the flared head of his cock while your thighs twitch around his hips. You make a tiny noise, all high and breathy, and he grins against your cheek. His nose brushes your temple while he shifts his hips just enough for his tip to nudge inside, slow and heavy. "Fuck... there we go, sweetness. 'S suckin me in now."
He grabs your thigh with his free hand, pushing it up until your knee's hooked over his forearm, giving him more room, more access, more of you. He doesn't push all the way in yet, just slides in a few inches, slow and aching, just enough to make your mouth drop open and your nails bite into his shoulders.
"Keep lookin' at me," he hisses. "Don't you dare look away. You let me in, shit... now you're gonna watch what I do to you."
Your eyes flutter open again, all teary and glassy and overwhelmed, and he groans and thrusts in deeper, hips jerking forward like he can't help it anymore, burying himself with a low, breathless curse. Both hands grab your thighs to hold you wide open while his cock sinks alllll the way inside, thick and throbbing inside you.
He sinks in all the way, slow but deliberate, forcing your body to stretch and take every thick inch, and the second he bottoms out, he stays there, buried deep inside you, breathing hard through his nose like he's trying to stay composed, but he's not even close. His hands grip your thighs so tight it makes your skin dimple, holding you still like he's afraid you'll run, like he knows you're not ready for how far he's about to take this.
"Fuck, it's good," he mutters, voice wrecked as he stares down at where you're joined. "Look at that. Fuckin' swallowed me whole, didn't you?" He gives a rough roll of his hips, just enough to make you jerk and gasp under him. "Tight little pussy- already squeezin' like she wants to keep me."
Your head tips back as a choked little moan slips out, your hands clinging to his shoulders now, nails dragging across his back without thinking. He groans, fucking into you harder now, faster. Your body jerks with the impact of his rough thrust, and he moans, loud and low against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down like an animal.
He keeps fucking into you with rapid, punishing thrusts, his body bracketed over yours, your legs forced wide apart so he can get deeper. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back on being responsive. You're slicing into his back with your nails, mewling and panting his name harshly.
He growls at the pleasure pain you give him, rutting into you harder, like the sound of his name like that flipped some switch in him. "Say it again," he pants. "Say my fuckin' name."
You do, a little louder this time, all breathless and shaking. "Jason, mmh! please!"
"Fuck," he bites, his whole body shuddering as he pounds into you now, hips snapping forward again and again. "You're gonna let me ruin you, huh? That what you want, sweet girl? Gonna let me fuck the good right outta you?" You nod, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, not even sure if it's from how good it feels or how deep he's inside you, but it makes him groan, deep and ragged, like he's never seen anything more perfect.
His voice is nothing but a harsh whisper now. "I ever catch you lettin' another man in this house, I swear to god-"
You cut him off with a soft little moan, too blissed out to process the threat, and Jason grunts, cock pulsing inside of you as he scrapes against your gummy inner walls. You let out a loud, high whine, clenching tight around him, and he curses under his breath, leaning forward to kiss you rough and messy, dragging his tongue across your bottom lip.
The taste of you is too much for him, and he groans loudly, grabbing onto the back of your head so he can fully suck your tongue into his mouth and buck into you faster, like a dog in a rut. "Gonna cum f'you," He grunts, tearing out of you suddenly.
You whine at the loss of the full feeling inside your belly. and he grabs onto your plush thighs again, squeezing his throbbing, flushed cock and pumping it a few times before splurting all over your pussy. You pant, heart pounding in your chest.
He cums load after load on you, before dropping onto his knees and stuffing his face into your cunt, needing you to cum for him too. He doesn't want to wait for your sensitivity or that coil to fade away, and so he thrusts his tongue deep inside your sopping hole, eating out your cunt like it's the only dessert he needs.
You scream, ecstasy washing over you so suddenly that you can't even warn him when you cum into his hot mouth, watching him eagerly drink it all up and tongue fucking you through your orgasm.
He groans at your taste once again, unable to get over how sweet you taste. He stands and scoops some of the cum off his thighs and pushes his fingers lightly to your mouth. "Open." He mutters, watching you oblige with a dazed look in your eyes. He feels his cock twitch to life once more at the sight of you tasting him and looking into his eyes like he's just ruined you, which he has. Your hair is a mess and your lips are swollen, and your lower half is soaked with his cum.
⤿ synopsis. best friends puppy and bunny have been getting very close since mating. the scournful looks bring your deeper doubts and insecurities to light. puppy does not appreciate you backing out now.
the two of you are the biggest scandal around. many, if not most of the male hybrids on campus think it'd be fruitless to court you, and the females to court him, since the two of you seem to be a mated pair.
you have the scent of puppy all over your skin, while he has faint bunny teeth marks dotting his collarbones and throat, dangerously close to his mating gland. you have matching ones on the soft parts of your body; your hips, thighs... breasts... ass. in a platonic way of course.
the tall, floppy eared puppy hybrid trails after you like he's on a leash you're holding. he's so obsessed with his sweet bunny best friend, all warm skin and soft thighs covered in skimpy things like sheer tights or mini skirts with your bunny tail twitching right above your pert ass.
the only reason he can get away with touching you as much as he does is because you're so clueless and needy. instead of wondering why your little panties get damp spots in them when he licks and bites you, all you can think about is straddling his lap and bouncing on him.
you're always in his lap.
Sometimes you're just buzzing with excitement about a quiz you think you aced, and you throws yourself onto him without noticing the way his arms lock around your waist territorially. beyond being possessive, pup also has to hold you and himself still because otherwise, he might rut up into you like an animal, or sniff behind your floppy ears and hump you right there in the quad.
he thinks about it, a lot. what it would be like to frot with his pretty bunny, but he doesnât do it because you're best friends. you just think he's sweet and affectionate in the puppies usually are, not realizing how his tail wags uncontrollably only for you and that when you're tangled up with him too long he runs to the bathroom for fifteen minutes not for a pee break but because his cock's gotten so wet and swollen that he can't last much longer without creaming all over you.
but then again, you're just as bad. you make a wet, gooey mess all over yourself whenever he grabs you by the hips when you're cuddling, and you get sooo warm and flushed all over when he pins you down in mock fights, tail wagging, tongue out, teeth grazing your skin to hold himself back from biting and breeding.
âËâš đŻ
your dorm seems to be way hotter than it needs to be. puppy's shirt is off, thrown somewhere under your desk, and his tail flicks back and forth behind him while you lay on top of him in bed, boobs squished to his face while you read your new book. your skirt's all bunched up and your thighs are bare and squishy where they press against him.
âyou're so warm,â he mumbles, nose scrunching, glossy eyes blinking up at you.
âyouâre the one who wanted me to sit here,â you pout in return, cheeks flushed. his hands are splayed on the outside of your thighs, rubbing over your skin back and forth. it's a tickly feeling that makes you wriggle on him a little to escape the sensation.
whenever you move on top of him, your scent spikes and it punches right into his senses. he groans and tugs you down on top of him to bury his face into your neck. âno squirming,â he pants, tongue peeking past his canines.
âwhy?" you tilt your head, bunny ears flopping to the side. "y'acting weird,â you say, petting his hair absently.
he mumbles something into your skin, licking once. âyou smell like youâre gonna go into heat and it's making me react weird.â he growls, finally lifting his head, eyes wet and wide. he's panting. âyou reek, bun. can smell y'pussy."
your thighs squeeze around his hips automatically, your whole body suddenly trembling. âdonât say that,â you whisper shyly, your voice high and scandalized, bunny tail twitching in little jerks behind you. your little nose wrinkles. ââŚyou smell worse. i canât even think when you smell like that.â
"stop," he yips, tail flicking frantically. âcan't control it, been trying so hard not to jump you, i swear,â
â...you have..?â you ask curiously, looking down at him. he looks so genuinely desperate itâs embarrassing. he whines and gets warm in the cheeks, squeezing you against him tighter. he nods weakly.
"i have to hold back too," you mumble into his neck after a beat. youâre embarrassed to admit it because your thighs are sticky and your hips are grinding down into his lap in tiny, unconscious movements.
âyou do?â he breathes. his ears twitch and flop down heavy against his head. âyou hold back?â
you nod against his skin, cheeks burning. âwhen you pin me down or grab me like that, it makes my head go all fuzzy. i-i donât know, mmm... just wanna⌠wanna rub on you or something."
the minute you admit the truth, he begins frantically nosing at your throat, nipping it, sucking, with a low, excited moans. you squeal, hips twitching up against him instinctively. âwhatâre you doing?â
âyou said you wanted it!â he cries out, humping up into you once and nearly sobbing when the friction makes his ears twitch. âcanât help it. y'smell so, fuck, you smell so sweet, bun, wanna eat you.â his nose twitches and heâs panting again. his hands cup under your thighs, squeezing. his cock is throbbing.
"oh god," he moans, rutting into. his lips are sticky and swollen from biting them so hard. "ngh fuuuck i do this to m'pillow, bun. i think about you and i hump it,"
âpup!â you squeak, scandalized, but you donât pull away. your hips match the slow, desperate rut of his under you, and despite there being barely any friction through your underwear, your cunt is soaked, and you can feel the outline of him right beneath your core. his cock is hot and throbbing with every grind.
âi hump it and pretend itâs you,â he gasps, squeezing your thighs tighter. his ears are flattened down, floppy against his flushed cheeks, and his whole body is shuddering beneath you. âi wrap your hoodie around it and press my face to your scent- nghh, i get it wet, just like this,â he sits up suddenly, arms wrapping tight around your waist and caging you in his lap. his forehead presses to yours. "bun... need, need, mmf-"
-is the last thing he mumbles out before he leans forward to capture his lips with yours. it's so messy and nasty. pup's tongue is huge and drooly and because he's so eager to finally finally have his lips on yours, he just ends up slobbering you because he's so excited. he bites on your lower lip, and you gasp into his in response, tugging on his hair sharp enough to make him yowl with pleasure.
he grabs yours hips and drags you down hard into his lap, mouth still locked with yours. his tongue rolls over yours when you moan again and grind back. he's panting into your mouth at the way your plump pussy grinds into his cock through your clothes. both of you are soaked, slick and pre leaking between the two of you to make squelching noises every time you rock down and he pushes up.
your mouth is glossy and swollen, coated in spit that clings in strings whenever he pulls back to breathe before diving right back in, tongue first, like a dog.
âstop,â he groans against your lips, licking into your mouth. âstop moving like that, i'm gonna- fuck! iâm gonna cum bun,"
âi know, want it s'bad,â you moan loudly, rolling your hips sloooow over his clothed cock, rubbing your folds over every single inch. his head lolls back stupidly.
âoh f-fuck,â he moans, thrusting against you again, the head of his cock sliding under the slick cotton of your panties with a disgusting wet sound. the bed creaks underneath you as he rocks, rocks, rocks into you.
pup sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder, almost on your mating gland but barely holding back just before he permanently bonds you with him. both your glands have been seeping oil since he's started, opening up eagerly and hoping to be claimed. it's taking all of him not to do it. his cock presses tight and hot against the swell of your cunt through your soaked panties, and you keen, tears pricking your eyes from the sheer overload.
âgonna -shit- cum,â he pants, tongue hanging out to kiss the reddening bite mark he just left. âbun, iâm gonna come, gonna make a mess,â
you whimper and rub harder against him, cunt soaking through your thin panties and onto his boxers, until thereâs a huge dark patch under your pussy. "y-you can!" you cry, face buried in his neck. âi want it, nnghhh fuck! want you, pup!â
he lets out this helpless, whimpering moan and then he grabs you by the hips, pulling you down hard just as he jerks up. his whole body locks up as his cock pulses hot and hard under you. your thighs become so sticky with slick as you start to cum with him, little cotton tail getting wet and sticky as your mixed juices start to drip down your skin, pooling in the dips where your thighs meet your ass.
he holds you there, panting through his teeth as his cock twitches repeatedly with more of his cream splurting out each time, staining both your underwear with thick, warm loads that donât stop.
Hybrid that can't stop fucking into me. He can't help that his rut came early! I'm a silly owner and didn't have any medication for him. We never run into these situations. Poor pup is so desperate and needy. I can hear him losing it in his room until he's shyly begging to use me. I had offered to find a partner for him but he refused. He'd never bond with someone he doesn't know! Why bother looking if his pretty master is right here? And he can smell how wet I am. He just needs to take care of me.
The moment I say yes we are on the floor of his room. Blankets and pillows all around us as he fucks into me quickly. He's so desperate and needy as small cries leave his lips. I feel like my mind is going crazy with how hard and fast he's going. He's apologizing because he wanted to be so sweet with his owner but he can't. All his head is telling him is to fuck and breed. I let out a loud squeal when his knot pushes into me suddenly. My nails are scratching his back leaving red marks. He lets out a loud cry and hides his face in my shoulder as he fills me.
Whining and letting at all those cute noises. Bucking his hips and shaking as he fills me with his cum. Panting for a second before trying to fuck me again. Desperately trying to pull his knot out to slam back into me. Fails a couple times only being able to grind against me. I'm trying to tell him to calm down but he can't. His brain is totally gone! Finally pulls his knot at to slam it back in. My back arches and the breath is knocked out of me. He's got a mean grip on my hips as he continues to pound my cunt.
Whimpering and whining in my ear. So needy and sensitive, the way my cunt is gripping him isn't helping. Poor pup can't help but cum again after a couple minutes. Louder than earlier as he pushes his knot back inside. I have to be a good owner and take it, trying to comfort him by petting his ears. All he can do is growl and hold onto me tighter. I whine when I feel him push in deeper, well try to. He's already so deep, I gasp when he bites down on my neck then kiss it.
Now that we spent his rut like this he will never go back to that stupid medication. Why should he when he can breed his pretty owner? Well just have to figure out medication for me. He'll breed my cunt every rut he can, throw his own medication down the drain if I offer them. He's just a dumb hybrid after all...he doesn't know any better.
Going on your first ever trip alone was a scary thing. Especially when the place you were traveling to was the infamous Monster City. Humans were rarely ever allowed inside, only permitted when all its citizens were out of their breeding seasons. All in order to protect their human neighbors and keep the peace.
But that also left the whole city as one big mystery to you. So although you were excited to go somewhere new, you didnât know what to expect.
The only thing you could think to do was look online. All you the online forums said the same thing. Every monster citizen recommended you Rent A Monster Bf for the day. Given they had packages that allowed them to act as a kind of tour guide while also giving you protection. The idea made your cheeks burn up in a blazing hot blush.
You couldnât actually do this, could you? Rent a monster to act as your bf for the day. There were all sorts of different packages. Offering short dates to long dates, having them pretend to pay for everything on your outings, to taking real-looking couples photoshoots. That was definitely doing too much, thereâs no way you could do that while keeping your head on straight.
By the end of the day there was no way you wouldnât catch some kinda feelings. It would be better if you just handled the trip in your own and hoped for the best walking around blindly.
âHi! Are you from the Rent A Monster Bf Service?â You ask the painfully sexy ass monster holding a sign with your name on it after stepping off the plane.
The whole process was a lot more simply than you originally thought it was gonna be. You told yourself, after giving in and just doing it, that if you hit a snag then youâd just forget the whole thing. But the agency made every step of the way so damn easy for you.
You sent them all the details for your hopes and dreams when going on this trip in a very long email. In response they sent you five listings, each of a different monster. The listings included their occupations, hobbies, accomplishments, and anything else that was notable to add.
Out of all the monsters you picked the one that was your type to a T, both in looks and personality. After choosing your boyfriend you received confirmation with a full itinerary that listed everything he had planned. From the start of the date to the very end of it. Starting by picking you up from the airport.
Now here you are, eyefucking him like a feral beast as he picks your heavy suitcase up with ease. Imagining him picking you up like that and throwing you around. Arousal gushes out of you, soaking your panties within minutes andâ fuck!â you really hope his kind of monster canât smell a humans emotions.
You watch him tilt his head in the air and sniff. Breath catches in your throat as your pussy clamps shut, as if thatâll trap the scent already surely wafting around you. Luckily it seems he doesnât notice it as he moves to the passenger side and opens it for you like a true gentleman.
The whole day he acts like an absolutely perfect bf while showing you around the city. When you went to restaurants heâd pull out your chair for you, yanking it close to his side once you sat down and taking in deep lungfuls of your scent.
Heâd feed you, laugh at how flustered you got, and talked with you like youâve known each other forever. His eyes flickering across your face in search of something deeper.
During museum tours and tourist attractions heâd hug you from behind or hold your hand. Always touching, always keeping you close like he was trying to make a claim in front of the other monsters.
Worse was how heâd always offer to take photos of you, or you two together. Whispering warmly in your ear, âI donât want you to forget a second to this.â
It was seriously ducking with your head. And your poor neglected pussy that wasnât seen any action in months was reaping the consequences. Everything he did set you on edge. Your panties were ruined by now, soaked through and dripping to the point it was uncomfortable. You donât know why your body is responding like this, itâs not like you.
But he was just so damn sexy, his body sculpted by the gods to fit your ideal type and his face⌠he was the most beautiful being youâve ever seen. It nearly blinded you how hot this man was.
This act he was putting on wasnât helping at all because as much as you tried to remind yourself you bought this service, you were failing, falling hard for his charms. Leaving you mad horny and two seconds from shooting your shot.
Somehow by some miracle you managed to restrain yourself till the end of the date. Good thing too because your mind was beginning to play tricks on you. Imagining his hand was holding yours a little tighter, his breathing coming in short pants and growing shorter throughout the day, pupils dilated with lust, and his body trembling with restraint.
For some reason he kept checking his watch and you wondered why. Just as you were about to ask it goes off and he instantly sighs in relief. Now officially off the clock he doesnât waste another minute, whirling around to face you, his claws hands cup your cheeks as he crashes his lips against yours. You make a noise of surprise that he eagerly swallows as you two stumble into your hotel room.
âI-Iâmâhah!â sorry, my rut isnât due for another two weeks, itâs never this early. But I just spent the last twelve hours drowning in the scent of your arousal when Iâd rather be drowning between your thighs. Mustâve triggered it,â he growls, all but pushing you on the bed. You barely process his words before heâs on top of you and ripping your clothes off.
Hour after hour passes in the blink of an eye. His hips are a blur of movement as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of your needy fat cunt. Never seeming to stop his relentless rhythm like heâs possessed or something. And hell maybe you are too with the way youâre bucking into his thrusts, riding his cock for all itâs worth.
The two of you are like animals as he takes you from the front, the side, against every piece of furniture in the room, to the sloppiest of backshots on the bed. Your throat is raw from all the screaming, the force of his hips wetly smacking against yours sends pleasure to explode throughout your body in the most mind blowing of ways.
Everything is sloppy and filthy, allowing him to slide in impossibly deeper. His cockhead making out with your cervix each time he bottoms out. Yet still you crave more.
You want his knot.
Using every trick in the book you start rolling your hips and clamping down, milking his cock like youâre tryna draw it out of him. He groans in bliss, fucked out and drunk off your pussy as he falls to nuzzle into your neck. Thatâs when you feel it, his knot nudging at your entrance.
While he tries to take it slow, ease it into you, youâre far too impatient. Having waited all day for this. So with a jerk of your hips you stuff his knot deep inside your cunt with one sharp stroke.
Immediately it throws him over the edge, his knot swelling up big within you. The stretch of his knot and the sensation of his hot seed flooding your tight channel has you reaching your peak right with him.
Sobs of ecstasy wrack through your chest as you fuck each other through the waves of pleasure tingling within you. He holds you tightly against him, talking you through it and whispering praises in your ear till you two collapse on the bed from exhaustion.
Your bodies are still locked up tight from his knot. And from the way he keeps grinding in deeper you have a feeling it wonât be going down anytime soon.
Well, it seems like youâll be extending your stay a night⌠or three. Only to help him through his rut. It seemed fair that you provide him with your services after he had provided you so thoroughly with his. And who knows what may happen after that.
Request: Just maybe the general idea of not believing/looking for/expecting like ridiculous sexual pleasure then being convinced if that makes any sense! Also a fan of rough sex without it being sadistic and still pleasurable! It could also be a single monster! stranger-roommate-friend whichever! If only small pieces of this get the brain juices flowing in a complete opposite direction, I would not be upset in any way. I would even love a story of just fem autistic reader falling in love with a huge monster or a slice of life! I am just excited to see what you make! I hope this is something you can work with! Thank you so much
A/N: I laughed so hard at some of the lines here, I find myself hilarious, ngl. Enjoy!
Pheromoned
Minotaur x fem!reader || dub-con, accidental heat (kinda?), rough sex, (light) dirty talk, (mentioned) oral sex
It all started in the weirdest way possible. Youâd been living with him for a while already, at least half a year, and he never showed much interest in your hobbies or spending time with you. And you were fine with it, you didnât have to be friends, you were only roommates after all. But someday⌠It changed.
You didnât know why he did it, but he started hanging out with you almost constantly out of the blue. If you were home, he was in the same room as you, it was like he couldnât get enough of you. But you didnât question it much, he could be lonely, and you definitely felt better when he was around. He was so sweet and kind, always offering to cook for you, always giving you compliments and snuggling with you when your day was shitty. It was like having a best friend. A very big, very beefy, and very hot best friend. One that made your pussy get wet. But you could ignore that in favor of hanging out and having a good time.
But lately, things have started to escalate. Your response to him gets hotter and hotter. You donât know whatâs happening to you, maybe you are ovulating or something, because every time heâs close to you, your pussy is clapping for attention. You get used to being constantly wet around him. Itâs intoxicating. Itâs like your pussy is salivating for his cock, and damn⌠You want to jump his bones very badly. But you can hold it together. You really can. You arenât going to ruin your friendship because your pussy wants to be all slimy next to him.
But itâs getting harder and harder (or more like wetter and wetter).
He gets closer to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pressing you close to his side. You inhale deeply, and feel a literal gush of desire soak through your panties. You feel so embarrassed that you have to excuse yourself, running to your room. You are in such a hurry that you donât hear him following you.
âWhatâs the matter? Are you okay?â He sounds so concerned, and looks so cute⌠You wonder how his dick would feel buried deep down your throat, how nice it would be to bounce on it while he gropes your tits, how wide he would stretch your pussy while he fucks you from behind.
You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. âYes! Yeah!â Your exclamation sound so fake you cringe at your own words. âIâm perfectly fine,â but your voice breaks at the last word in a high-pitched tone that only makes you feel weirder about the whole thing. Your pussy is still gushing, and you can feel heat all over your skin. And he looks so fucking goodâŚ
It takes you a total of three seconds to close the space between you two, throwing yourself at him. Literally. He catches you mid air with a huff of surprise before he cradles you against his chest. Your hands find his horns instantly, and he moans against your mouth when you go for it. You massage the base of his horns, where he confessed he feels the most, while you claim his mouth like you are desperate for him. Because you are. Very desperate. You feel like your life is going to end if you donât get his dick to kiss your cervix in the next couple of minutes.
âWe should- Fuck!â He curses when you grind down on his cock, your legs around his waist while you do your best to create friction between your bodies, biting down on his neck. âWe should talk,â he breathes out but his hands are groping your ass, pulling at the waistband of your shorts and lowering them enough to pull at your thong. The rubbing of the fabric over your clit makes you scream his name, much to your embarrassment and his delight.
âLater. We talk later. I need your cock. Please. Please. Give me your cock,â you are being incoherent, but you donât care. You need it. Your pussy is crying for him and he can wipe the tears with his huge minotaur dick.
âOkay. Okay. Get to the bed,â he orders, trying to get you off his body, but you only cling harder. You squeeze your legs around his middle, grinding your pussy against his abs and rubbing his horns until his knees buckle under him. âFuck. No bed. Okay. No bed. Whatever you want.â
He pulls at the fabric of your pants until you hear something ripping, you donât fucking care. You release one of his horns to slip it between your bodies and pull his cock free. You are so grateful heâs wearing sweatpants.
He puts your thong to the side, sniffing the air and moaning. âFuck, you are dripping, arenât you? Goddess, you are perfect.â
He positions himself, trying to go slow. But you are above all that. You sink down in one long thrust that makes his legs give out under him. His knees hit the ground with a soft thud, and he groans in pain, but you donât fucking care. You are already bouncing on his minotaur dick like you are in a rodeo and aiming for the first prize.
Heâs huffing and puffing, holding you close against his chest while you go crazy above him, fucking him with all your might. You are having the time of your life and he looks like heâs holding on for dear life. You are pretty sure your hips are going to end up bruised, but you donât fucking care because his dick is huge and itâs pressing against every single pleasure point inside of you. Itâs driving you insane in the best way possible.
Your first orgasm hits you like a brick to the head, your whole body going lax and then thrashing above your minotaur roommate. Unable to control your extremities, you almost hit him in the head while your body shakes with a pleasure so high you could barely describe it. You ascend into another dimension. Into another plane of existence. Your pussy is singing with the angels and his dick is the melody.
But your body craves more. It craves so much more.
You continue riding him, chasing the edge of pain and pleasure due to overstimulation, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone, the tip of his dick hitting your G-spot with each thrust. Heâs making sounds not known by humans, but you donât even care.
Heâs grabbing at you like a lifeline while you continue biting his neck and holding onto his horns. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, precum so copious itâs starting to mix with your juices, ruining his pants completely. He doesnât seem too bothered by it, helping you up and down his shaft again and again.
You come half a dozen more times before he finally releases everything heâs holding. He cums so deep inside of you, itâs almost like heâs fucking your throat. You let out a whimper that could easily be his name, but also anything else. You feel boneless, completely exhausted and thoroughly fucked. You are in heaven. He lowers his body until you are cuddled against his chest, his heartbeat still going rabbit-fast.
âThe pheromones worked way better than expected,â he says with a chuckle between labored breaths. His whole chest shakes, and it takes you a second to catch up with what he just said.
âWhat do you mean?â You ask, your breathing is equally erratic after that good fucking. Your brain is still swimming in a daze of pleasure and minotaur dick.
He kisses your forehead, making you blush. Because apparently after fucking dirty, you would blush after a little kiss. âMinotaurs exude pheromones when we find our mate, and Iâve been trying you to catch up for months. I thought the pheromones would help and well⌠You did become pussy-dazed for me,â he explains.
You pull at his chest until you can look at him in the eyes, anger coiling inside of you. âYou pheromoned me?!â Your voice is shocked and high-pitched.
He shakes his head, apologetically, trying to get you back to his chest. âFor us, babe. I did it for us. Didnât you like my dick?â He sounds almost pitiful with that question, and you feel a tiny bit bad for him.
But not enough to let him go so easily. âWhat are you tal-â You ask, equal parts offended and confused.
He rolls over you so fast you canât process his movement before his big head is between your legs and his tongue is licking your whole pussy in one long lick. Whatever you were going to say gets lost in the pleasure of his tongue against your clit while you hold onto his horns for dear life.
trigger warning: minors do not interact. sensitive content ahead, read at your own risk.
word count: 22,5k
ŕ¨ŕ§
y/n:
hey, it's san, you already know that. okay, you know i'm bad at this, so i'm sorry in advance. there might be a right way to write this and i don't think i know it, but for you i'll try. please don't judge the handwriting too much. or the wording, or how short or long it is. i rewrote the first part four times and it still feels bad. anyway, i'm sorry, here's the letter. i guess i should start from the beginning, no? is that stupid? i don't know. [scribbled] the first time i saw you was in that class we both didnât want to be in. i donât even remember what the professor was saying, but i remember you. you were leaning over the desk, hand on your cheek, resting your head. i remember thinking you looked easy to be around. i donât know why, but it did. this is embarrassing but i think i knew i wanted to marry you way earlier than i probably should have. i didnât say it, obviously, that would've been creepy. i just knew you looked so so pretty and now that i know you, you became so beautiful. not that you weren't beautiful before being with me, you always were, i'm just saying from my perspective just how mesmerized you had me from the start, you know? you are just so smart, so creative, so diligent. [scribbled] it's like when you balance numbers and they finally add up the way theyâre supposed to, that's what it kind of felt like, but in the romantic way. i'm sorry i'm not good at expressing my feelings and all that, you know that better than anyone else. but i want you to know that choosing you has never felt like a decision i had to force myself into. i want this more than anything, with you. we have this apartment now. itâs small and the walls are kind of thin and the kitchen light flickers sometimes, but itâs ours. i keep thinking about how this is the place where everything will start. mornings, dinners, normal days, hard days, all of it. and i like knowing youâll be here at the end of the day. i like knowing i get to come home to you. i promise iâll take care of you. i promise iâll work hard. [scribbled] i know i donât always say what iâm thinking, but i feel things even when i donât show them right. does that make sense? well, [scribbled] iâm really proud to be your husband. that still feels strange to write, but in a good way. i hope we grow old together. i hope we donât stop choosing each other, even when life gets busy or complicated. i hope you always know that youâre my favorite person in the world, even if i forget to say it out loud sometimes. iâll always try to try, even if iâm bad.
i love you.
san
tucked beneath the neatly folded cashmere sweaters, exactly where you left it. lace covered box, meant for letters he had promised to fill with, yet a year and a half later, only the first one stood alone. you weren't angry, not even sad. it actually made you chuckle a little. just a quiet grief for what had been started to root deep inside, for the vibrant colors that had softened into pastels, for the soft reverence in his eyes that had slowly faded into habit. you often found yourself staring at the box, a wry smile touching your lips.
the paper, once crisp, now yielded to countless revisits. you knew every word by heart, the rhythm of his awkward sincerity etched into your memory. you traced the faded ink. his handwriting, usually neat in ledgers, was a little clumsy here. each letter formed with an almost painful deliberation. it was short, a simple promise. a quiet declaration of his intent to build a life with you, to be your home. no extreme pronouncements of undying passion, but a solid foundation of devotion. san had never been one for grand gestures, at least not in words. his love manifested in the certainty of his presence, the steady rhythm of his life intertwined with yours. in fact, you had asked for the letter in the first place, at that diner right before receiving the keys to the apartment.
"a letter?" he'd shifted on his seat, a blush creeping up his neck. "i'm not... good with words, y/n."
you shook your head with an endeared smile. "you don't have to be shakespeare sannie, just you."
he seemed in thought for a moment, trying to resist looking at your puppy eyes asking pretty please before straightening his back, accepting the challenge. and he did. pen clutched tight, brows furrowed in concentration. youâd watched him, your heart swelling with a love so potent it felt like a physical ache. then when he finished, he slid it across the booth table, eyes avoiding yours with his shy offering.
now, the paper, soft as old linen, whispered between your fingertips. you didn't rush. each sentence, each carefully chosen word, you read them slowly, precious memory reexperiencie. tasting the hope, the fresh promise of that day when he later bought you the box, saying he'd get better at it and you'd have it spilling out with his loving written words. you ran your fingers over the intricate patterns of the lace, delicate threads contrasting the hollow space.
you folded the letter along it's original creases, the paper folding easily, and placed it back before checking your thight bun in the mirror, perfect posture, every single hair placed where it was meant to be. he still looked at you, of course, but the spark, the raw wonder, had dimmed. it wasn't his fault. life had a way of sanding down the sharp edges of infatuation, leaving behind the smooth, enduring stone of work life.
silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant city chorus. you tell yourself he just forgot. got busy, or thought one was enough. you're good at explaining things away. but when did trying turn into remembering? when did the promise of a future become the past?
the aroma of roasted chicken and rosemary filled the air, a comforting scent that tonight told a solitary performance. table was set, candles unlit, everything waiting for a moment that kept getting delayed. the antique clock sat on the mantelpiece. seven thirty, again. you waited for the familiar click of keys in the lock, the sound that usually signaled the end of day and the beginning of us.
when he comes in your head lifts before you even realize. smoothing your dress automatically, fingers brushing over fabric that was never wrinkled in the first place. a small smile already forming, reserved for him. san already halfway out of his shoes, shoulders slumped, a dark suit jacket draped over his arm. he didnât glance at the table set for two, but knows everything looks exactly as it always does.
"hey," his voice tired, worn down. like business of the city still clung to him.
"hi," you answer, softer.
he leans in, presses a quick kiss to your temple. familiar, practiced.
"sorry iâm late," he adds, already loosening his tie as you walked towards the dining table. "we had to redo part of the quarterly report because... how do i put this- there was a discrepancy in one of the ledgers, and it threw off the whole reconciliation process. so we had to go back and..."
pulling out his chair. the heavy oak scraped across the polished floor. he loosened his tie, then unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "had to redo a section. whole damn thing.â he ran a hand through his hair, already tousled from the day. âhours. just⌠hours.â
you watched him, spooning roasted vegetables onto his plate. you pushed his plate closer, then sat across from him. "must be frustrating," you offered, a soft murmur.
he picked up his fork, turning the chicken over. "frustrating doesnât begin to cover it. the whole team, scrambling. for a single misplaced figure." he took a bite, chewed slowly. "itâs done now. mostly."
he keeps talking about work, deadlines, numbers, something about a client. you listen, always do. you don't understand every word, but you understand him in the way he talks when heâs tired. the slight edge in his voice, the way he explains things like heâs still in the middle of solving them. itâs easier for him to talk about numbers than about how his day actually felt.
nods at the right moments. hums of acknowledgement. small "and then?" once in a while, just to keep him going.
"âŚwhere did those come from?" he signals behind you at the counter. a faint lift of an eyebrow. a hint of a smile, almost.
you glance back, even though you know exactly what heâs looking at. the vase sits neatly by the sink, filled with fresh flowers. soft colors, carefully arranged.
"oh," you say, turning back to him, a warmth creeping up your neck. "mrs. jones gave them to me. i brought her some brownies earlier."
he paused, fork halfway to his mouth and exhales a small breath through his nose in genuine bewilderment.
"y/n," he says, setting his fork down for a second, "you need to stop baking so much."
you blink at him. "why?"
"i don't know, it's just..." he gestures vaguely, like the answer should be obvious. "it's every day. there's always something new. brownies, cookies, that cake from yesterday. the whole building must be swimming in your desserts." he didnât sound angry, just... resigned.
"i like baking," your voice still gentle, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth
"i know, i know," he says quickly. "i'm just saying⌠it's a lot, isn't it?"
a small pause settles and you shrug, barely lifting your shoulders. "it keeps me busy."
he reached across the table, covering your hand with his. his palm was warm, calloused. "tell you what. how about i book you a day at that salon you like? the one on fifth street. hair. nails. the works. i can tell my sister to join you."
"what? am i starting to look like a hag?" you managed a weak laugh.
his grip tightened slightly. his eyes, usually so guarded, held yours with an intensity that surprised you. "you know thatâs not what i meant." his voice was firm, no trace of humor.
the small joke withered and you nodded, slowly. "okay." you swallowed. "okay, that sounds... nice."
the candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across his face. he picked up his fork again, the brief moment of connection already fading.
later, the apartment settled into it's nightly quiet. you lay in bed, the soft glow of your reading lamp illuminating the pages of a novel you couldn't quite focus on. normal people by sally rooney, but the words blurred. beside you, san lay on his back, eyes fixed on the small screen in his hands. the blue light painted his face in stark contrasts. his thumb scrolled, scrolled, scrolled. numbers, probably. reports. another discrepancy.
you watched the subtle movements of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. he was so focused, so far away. still, you reached out, tentative touch to his forearm. his skin was warm beneath your fingers.
he didnât stir, didnât look up. his thumb kept scrolling.
you moved your hand, gently, up his arm, over his shoulder, until your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, then threaded into his hair. soft, dark strands. you leaned closer, your breath stirring the air near his ear.
a soft sound escaped him and it almost seemed like he was leaning into it. a yawn. deep, stretching. he lowered the phone, placing it face down on the nightstand. his eyes, heavy lidded, met yours. fleeting moment, again.
"long day," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. he gave you a quick short peck on your cheek then turned onto his side, facing away from you, the duvet pulled higher. "good night."
lamp clicked off. darkness enveloped the room, thick and immediate. you lay there, listening to the soft, even rhythm of his breathing, soon turning into soft snores. beside him but alone in the quiet. the book lay open, unread. words still blurred.
ŕ¨ŕ§
acetone and something floral, both sharp and comforting. hum of dryers and low chatter fills the space, blending into a steady background noise that makes everything feel easy. normal.
you sat in the middle chair, hands resting neatly on the small cushion in front of you, fingers relaxed but still. a sigh escaping your lips before you could stop it. the manicurist, a young woman with a bright, knowing smile, took your hand, her touch cool and precise. she filed your nails into neat, elegant ovals. you picked a soft, clean color without much thought. something simple, safe, that goes with everything.
across from you, two of your friends leaned into each other, their overlapping voices a stream of gossip. too loud and uncaring. the others chime in, voices overlapping. one of them threw her head back, a peal of laughter echoing, the other one nodded, eyes wide with feigned shock. they talked about a mutual acquaintanceâs recent engagement, the scandalous details of a breakup, the endless parade of societal expectations.
"he actually said that?"
"no, stop-"
"i'm serious, i swear-"
to your left, rhythmic snip of scissors. noeul, san's older sister listened quietly, sat under a cloud of foil, her head tilted back as a stylist worked through her dark hair. but her attention drifts back to you more often than not. she owned a warm, reassuring glint. offering a small, conspiratorial smile whenever you caught her gaze in the mirror, silent acknowledgment of the shared escape.
a few chairs down, a woman with kind eyes spoke in hushed tones to her stylist. "she just graduated middle school with the highest scores," her voice, thick with a motherâs proudness, drifted over.
the stylist hums a singing note. "you must be so proud."
"oh, more than that" the woman exhales. "she's even already thinking about what she wants to study after high school."
she spoke of her daughter, a girl sheâd poured her heart into.
your fingers still for a second on the cushion. the stylist murmurs something gentle back, and the conversation folds into the background. but it lingers.
your gaze drifted from the womanâs satisfied face to the neat row of polish bottles, then to your own hands, at the careful brush of polish gliding over your nails. you imagined those hands, smaller, softer, reaching for yours. a child. a son, perhaps, with sanâs dimples and your own tendency to blush when surprised. or a daughter, with sanâs quiet strength and your expressive eyes. the thought bloomed in your mind like a fragile hothouse flower.
you try to picture it. years stacked quietly on top of each other. a child in your apartment. toys where there are now empty surfaces. noise where there is now silence. san, coming home from work. would he pick them up? would he be too tired? would he talk to them the way he talks to you now, half there, half somewhere else? or would it be different? the thought catches you off guard. unfamiliar.
because you've never talked about it. not seriously. not beyond passing comments, vague things people say because theyâre supposed to. someday. eventually. no timelines, no plans, no want or donât want laid out clearly between you.
you don't even know if he wants kids. and for a second, that realization feels heavier than it should. thereâs a whole future on a limbo sitting out of reach. not because itâs impossible, but because itâs never been named.
"y/n? youâre miles away!" the brightness of your friend's voice cut through your reverie.
the other leans forward slightly, "howâs married life treating you?"
you don't look up right away, only tilting your hand slightly when the nail tech asks you to. a practiced tug at the corner of your lips masked the tremor beneath.
"it's good, really good." you offered, voice light and airy.
"ugh," someone groans playfully. "of course it is. you guys were always like... perfect for each other."
you let out a soft laugh. "thank you, emma."
"it is," the friend grins. "seriously though, what have you guys been up to lately? anything fun?"
thereâs a pause. you glance up for just a second, like you're checking your memory for something recent, something worth telling. "not really," tone still light. "just... normal stuff."
"that's adorable," another friend says, laced with genuine admiration. "no drama or chaos. must be so peaceful to marry an office guy."
"yeah," you nod, smile a little wider. "exactly."
the conversation shifts easily after that, flowing like a meandering river to other topics, someone starts talking about a coworker, someone else about a trip they want to take, and you listen, add comments here and there, smile when you're supposed to. their voices rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm. you watched them, their easy camaraderie, the way they finished each otherâs sentences, and a familiar pang of loneliness pierced through the carefully erected wall around your heart.
noeulâs voice, soft but firm, cut through the din. she leaned closer, her perceptive eyes, meeting yours.
"howâs he been?â she asks.
you turn slightly. "san?"
a small nod. "yeah."
your smile didnât falter. it felt glued on now, a permanent fixture. "heâs good," you say. "just busy with work, you know how he is." the words came out a little too quickly, a little too smooth. you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the manicurist applying the top coat, making sure each nail was perfectly glossy.
noeul scoffs and tilts her head. "i do." a faint, wry smile touched her lips. "you know, iâve known my brother a long time. longer than you, even." she paused, letting her words hang in the air. "i know how he gets. when things pile up and he forgets the rest of the world exists."
for a second, the façade threatened to crack. the truth, the bitter, stinging sensation, rose in your throat. you wanted to confess, to unburden yourself, to say, heâs not here, noeul. even when heâs here, heâs not here. iâm so lonely. i feel like iâm drowning in this calm. but the words remained trapped. fearful of conflict, ingrained habit of presenting things softly. you forced a small, reassuring nod. "yeah, it's nothing." the lie tasted like ash.
she watches you for a second longer, like sheâs weighing something, then hums lightly and looks away, letting the moment dissolve back into the room. as the conversation drifts away again, your gaze lowers, unfocused.
the manicurist finished, buffing your nails to a high shine. she applied a cuticle oil, the scent of almond and rose a delicate perfume. your hands, now impeccably groomed, felt foreign.
"all done, dear." she announced, her smile bright.
you lift your hands slightly, turning them under the light. theyâre perfect. smooth, even, untouched.
"thank you," you say, smiling.
for a moment, you imagine asking him. should be simple. do you ever think about kids? it doesnât feel like a big question. it's not.
and yet, you canât picture the moment clearly. when you'd ask, how heâd answer, whether it would feel natural or out of place, like introducing a topic that doesnât belong in the quiet shape of their life. so you let the thought go.
you reach for your phone absentmindedly. no new messages. thumb hovers over the screen for a second, like you might type something, then you lock it instead and set it back down.
"do you guys want to grab something after this?" a girls asks. "coffee?"
"perfect! iâm craving that new lavender latte."
"oh, i can't," you say quickly, forcing another regretful smile. "i really should head home. dinner, you know." you gestured vaguely, as if the very concept of an empty fridge was an urgent, looming threat.
"alright, wifey," someone teases.
you simply smile again in a thin line as you stand, smoothing down your dress out of instinct and reach for your bag. giving everyone a small goodbye hug. as you pass behind noeul, thereâs a brief brush of hands, intentional to pause you.
"hey, if itâs ever not nothing," she says quietly, a hint of concern still lacing her words. "you can tell me."
you hold her gaze for a second. then you smile. soft, reassuring, effortless. "i know." and you mean it, you just don't use it.
blur of city sounds and hurried footste. you stepped out, the cool afternoon air a sharp contrast to the salonâs warmth. rose scented oil on your nails, faint blush of pink, it felt like a disguise. you walked, footsteps echoing on the pavement, toward the quiet of the apartment, toward the silent kitchen, toward the dinner you had to make. the thought of it, a weight in your stomach, settled in with the dull ache of loneliness. the calm awaited.
ŕ¨ŕ§
the last of the suds swirled down the drain, taking with them the faint scent of tonightâs braised short ribs. you wiped down the counter, movements precise, methodical. the clinking of ceramic plates against the drying rack was the only sound in the kitchen. you dried your hands on a towel, folding it neatly over the edge of the sink when you're finished. dishes done, kitchen clean again.
san's in the living room, laptop open, the soft glow of the screen lighting his face. he's not typing much. just staring, scrolling, thinking. you paused at the archway, shoulder pressing lightly against the cool plaster. the conversation from the salon, a snippet of motherhood, rang in your mind. it had all been a gentle nudge, a question mark in the back of your thoughts all afternoon. you hadn't realized how much space the idea of a child, of your child, could occupy until that moment.
the future, once a vibrant tapestry you and san wove together with eager hands, now a blank canvas. youâd painted the college days in bright, bold strokes, the wedding vows in shimmering gold. but the years beyond, the ones stretching into a quiet domesticity, remained unsketched. you found yourself wondering if san even saw that canvas anymore, if he still held a brush.
you watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he began typing, the subtle ripple beneath his shirt. his dark hair, a little longer than you usually liked, fell across his forehead. he didnât look up, his focus absolute, a tunnel vision youâd come to recognize.
"still have a lot to do?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, a whisper against the keyboardâs clatter.
his fingers stilled for a beat, then resumed their pace. "almost," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the screen. "just finishing up these projections for the morning."
a breath, deep and slow, air cool in your lungs. you watch him for a second. the way his brows pull together slightly, the way his attention narrows into whateverâs on the screen. focused. distant. the question, the real question, the one that had been brewing since you left the salon, fell heavy on your tongue. it wasn't just about kids. it was about us. about the unspoken, the unasked, the growing chasm of silence. you wanted to ask if he ever thought about them, about a future that wasnât neatly tied to quarterly reports and spreadsheets. you wanted to ask if he still saw you, really saw you, beyond the perfectly made bed and the carefully planned dinners. maybe, just maybe, this question could be the key, a small crack. it could lead to an actual conversation, a real one, not just about work or groceries or the weather. your heart beat a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
"hey," you start.
he hummed, signaling acknowledgement without breaking concentration. his head tilted slightly, silent invitation to continue.
do you ever think about kids?
words once so clear in your mind, so simple in your head, at least, suddenly tangled. they became a knot in your throat, a lump of unspoken fears and resentments. the image of him, so engrossed, so far away, solidified the doubt. what if he says no? what if he doesnât want them? what if he thinks itâs a silly question? the fear of that disappointment in his eyes, was a known, suffocating weight. youâd spent years perfecting the art of soft landings, of avoiding any ripple in the calm surface of your shared life. to shatter that now, to introduce a potential disagreement, felt like a betrayal of your own carefully constructed peace. the question of children, of your future, of his love, dissolved into a vague, unformed anxiety.
"do youâŚ" you began, then faltered, sentence dying on your lips. "do you want some tea?"
he looked up then, slanted brown eyes meeting yours, a faint smile touching his lips. the blue light softened the edges of his face, highlighting the dimples that appeared only when he was genuinely pleased. "yeah," he nodded. "sounds nice."
and just like that, the moment passed. the opportunity vanished. you offered a small, tight smile in return, then turned and walked back into the quiet kitchen, already reaching for the kettle. behind you, the quiet settles back into place. the question dissolves somewhere between the sink and the stove, blending into the rhythm of water filling, mugs being set out, something warm being made and offered instead of something uncertain being asked. by the time the kettle starts to hum, you canât even tell if it wouldâve been the right moment or if there would ever be one.
ŕ¨ŕ§
the supermarket was colder than you'd expected when the automatic doors whispered open, spitting out artificial chill. paused just past the entrance, adjusting your grip on the heavy cart as the air settled unwelcome against your skin. for a moment, you just stood there, letting the quiet hum of refrigerators and distant chatter fill the space around you. a shiver traced it's way down your spine, cold reminder that you had to move, and so you pushed the metal basket forward as it's wheels squeaked faintly.
there was no reason to rush. you followed the aisles in a pattern you didnât have to think about anymore. chicken first, hand reaching for the familiar white tray. then the vegetable section. flour, again. sugar, constant drain on the pantry, always seemed to run out faster than it should. everything found it's place in the cart without hesitation, each item chosen with the same steady certainty. each line on your shopping list crossed off with a decisive stroke of the pen. at some point, you realized you had already walked down the same aisle twice.
nothing missing, nothing forgotten. the necessities secured, a small indulgence felt earned. you slowed, then stopped altogether at the snack aisle. eyes drifted over the shelves, lingering on things you didnât need. brightly colored packaging, a mental tally forming: which ones you wouldn't you buy, which ones would san wrinkle his nose at? the familiar ritual offered a brief, quiet comfort. you imagined his polite imperceptible nod of approval when you presented his favourite chocolate covered crispy biscuits, or the slight, teasing lift of his brow if you dared bring home something too exotic.
"y/n?" the voice came from behind, uncertain but enough to make you turn, the cart creaking in protest. you couldnât place him until the crooked smile appeared and recognition settled in.
seonghwa.
he stood a few feet away, a half basket hooked over his arm. the boy you remembered, all sharp angles and adolescent angst, had softened around the edges, but the core was undeniably him. the piercings that once studded his ears and lip were gone, leaving only ghost like indentations. but new ink snaked up his forearms, dark tendrils against his skin, a testament to a life lived beyond high school hallways. his wolf cut, a shaggy, artfully dishevelled frame around his face, was longer, wilder than you remembered. his round eyes, still piercing, held a glint of surprise, then something else, something assessing.
"oh...hi," you said, a small, surprised smile breaking through. "wait, hi."
"wow, it's really you." he smiled back, a little wider, like heâd been more sure of it than you were. "i almost didn't recognize you. you... look good, exactly the same," he added, almost as an afterthought.
you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "thatâs not true."
"it is," he said lightly. "just... older. in a good way."
you smiled again, more out of politeness this time, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as if to give your hands something to do.
"what are you doing around here?" he asked. "do you live nearby?"
"yeah," you nodded. "not too far. i just came to... groceries."
"right," he said, glancing at his own cart. "same."
there was a brief pause, the kind that should have felt awkward, but didnât quite. not yet.
"so... are you still in touch with... what was her name? sarah? no- samantha?â
you smiled faintly. "no."
"right, yeah," he said quickly, waving it off with a small laugh. "i always mix those up."
you didnât correct him. his gaze shifted then, catching on your left hand, lingering for a fraction on the thin band around your ring ringer. you followed his eyes, as if you hadnât noticed it until that moment.
you offered a practiced smile, a smooth, well rehearsed performance. "oh, yeah. met him in college." the words came out light, airy, almost dismissive of the years of shared history, of the dreams whispered in dorm rooms, the silent promises.
"college, huh? that's nice," he said, and it sounded genuine.
"it is," you replied, too quickly. "his name is san, he's an accountant." the description felt flat, inadequate, a pale shadow of the man you loved.
"an accountant. fancy." he chuckled. "so, what have you been up to? still arguing about about freud versus jung for fun?"
"no, not really." you corrected gently. "i mean, i got a psychology degree but i'm⌠i'm a stay at home wife now." the phrase almost felt embarrassing on your tongue.
his eyebrow shot up. "huh... i always pictured you, like, running a therapy practice, saving the world from going insane."
you shrugged. "well, itâs nice, though. i get to... manage the house. bake. plan meals. save him from going insane, you know?" the words hollow, even to your own ears.
"i bet sanâs a lucky man. always coming home to fresh cookies." he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
small, tight knot formed in your stomach. you baked when you were anxious, yes. but san rarely came home early enough for the cookies to still be warm. and most of them, you gave away to the neighbours, offerings of surplus comfort. "something like that," you murmured, deflecting. "what about you? still making music?"
his face lit up, a genuine, unadulterated passion sparking in his eyes. the words lingered between you for a second before dissolving into something lighter. you talked after that. nothing important, nothing that would be remembered in detail later. work, vaguely. life, in broad strokes. the kind of conversation that filled space easily without asking too much of either of them. he asked questions and waited for the answers. reacted in the right places. kept things moving without letting them settle too long in any one place. you found yourself talking more than you expected to.
"a few of us get together sometimes," he said, almost casually. "nothing big. just... hanging out. you should come, weâre going to a friend's house next week. old times' sake."
you hesitated, not because you didnât want to, but because you did. your mind immediately conjured a mental checklist: the laundry basket overflowing in the utility room, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun on the living room floor, the intricate dinner you had planned for san, a quiet attempt to reignite a spark that felt increasingly dim. the thought of all those small, domestic duties, waiting patiently for your attention, made a familiar pang of guilt twist in your gut.
"i donât know," you said lightly, automatic refusal on your lips. "i might be busy."
"with what?" he asked curiously.
you searched for something immediate, something obvious.
"just⌠stuff," you said instead, smoothing it over with a small smile.
he nodded, accepting it without question.
"well," he added, "if youâre not, youâre welcome. itâd be nice to catch up properly. itâs good to break free sometimes and let loose, you know?"
a small yearning stirred within you. the idea of an afternoon free from chores, from the quiet hum of your own thoughts, from the subtle ache of loneliness, held an unexpected appeal. "okay," you said, the word simple.
"yeah?" his eyes amused.
"yeah."
you exchanged numbers. nothing ceremonious about it, a small addition, barely noticeable in the moment. "well, it was good running into you, y/n. donât be a stranger." he offered a quick, easy smile, then turned, his basket still hooked over his arm, and disappeared down the aisle towards the dairy section.
that night, you work through the knots in your hair in front of the vanity mirror. each stroke of the brush pulls a small discomfort. the rush of water from the tap in the en suite bathroom ceases. the door creaks open and san emerged, a towel draped low around his waist. water still clings to the dark hairs on his chest, glistening under the low light. he moves with a quiet efficiency, his broad shoulders filling the doorway for a moment before he crosses to his side of the bed, carrying the clean scent of his soap. he doesnât look at you, not directly, as he peels the towel away, letting it drop to the floor. your gaze, however, finds the smooth expanse of his back, the hard lines of his muscles shifting as he reaches for the pajama drawer. you note the way his bicep flexes, the familiar curve of his neck, the slight slump of his shoulders that wasnât there when you first met him.
you continue brushing, rhythmic scrape of bristles against scalp filling the silence. your heart a persistent bird, flutters.
"i ran into someone today," you say, your voice almost lost in the rustle of san pulling on a shirt.
a low hum sound from inside the fabric, he pulls the shirt down, smoothing it over his chest. he turns then, his eyes, dark and heavy lidded, finally finding yours in the mirror. a flicker of something unreadable passes through them before settling into a tired affection.
"at the market?" he asks as he pulls back the duvet on his side of the bed.
you nod, watching his reflection as he settles onto the mattress, propping himself up against the headboard. "an old friend. from high school." you pause, the brush still in your hand, it's bristles splayed. "apparently some of them still hang out, and i was invited."
the bed dips as he adjusts the pillows. "thatâs good. you should go." his voice is calm, even. he picks up his phone from the nightstand, it's screen glowing blue for a moment before he sets it back down.
you turn fully then, the brush forgotten on the vanity. your bare feet touch the cool wood floor. "really? you donât mind?" you walk to your side of the bed.
he looks up, his brows furrowed slightly. "why would i mind? itâs good for you to see people. youâre always here." his gaze sweeps around the room, then back to you. "you should get out more."
the words, meant to be reassuring, land with a surprising weight. always here. a small, sharp ache begins in your chest. you climb into bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin. the sheets, cool against your skin, feel vast tonight.
"i mean," you start, choosing your words carefully, "i havenât seen them in years. since graduation, probably." you watch his face, searching for something, a hint of curiosity, a flicker of concern.
he just nods, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "people change. thatâs okay. itâll be nice to reconnect." he reaches over, his hand finding yours under the duvet. his fingers, warm and strong, intertwine with yours, a familiar comfort. "youâve been cooped up. itâs good to have plans."
his thumb strokes the back of your hand, itâs a connection, yes, but one that feels practiced, automatic. you want to tell him more, to say, it was seonghwa, the boy with the emo hair, the one who used to draw skulls in his notebook during history class, but the words catch in your throat. the moment feels too delicate, too easily broken.
"i guess so," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. you squeeze his hand, a silent plea for more, for him to ask, who was it? what did you talk about?
soft exhalation that sounds like relief escapes him. he leans over, his head dipping. his lips, warm and soft, brush your forehead, then your temple, then your mouth. itâs a brief, chaste kiss, a familiar closing to the day. his lips taste faintly of mint. he pulls back, settling deeper into his pillow.
"good night, y/n," he says, his voice already thick with sleep.
eyes closing and breathing deepening almost immediately. the rhythm of his breath fills the room, steady and even. his hand, still holding yours, loosens it's grip. fingers, heavy with sleep, slide away.
darkness pressed in as you layed there, the silence amplifying the quiet hum of the city outside. your eyes trace the familiar contours of his face in the dim light. his eyelashes, thick and dark, rest against his cheekbones. faint smile, ghost of a dream, plays on his lips. he looks peaceful, untroubled.
he hadnât asked. he hadnât asked anything beyond the most superficial. he hadn't asked who. he hadn't asked if you wanted to go. he just assumed.
you turn onto your side, facing away from him, pulling the duvet tighter around you. the warmth of the blankets does little to chase away the chill that has settled deep within you. still, you tried to push the thought away. itâs not fair. san is tired. he works hard. he provides. this is what you agreed to. this is the life you built. you chose this, to be here. for him. but the loneliness curls around your heart. the perfection of the bed you made this morning, the carefully planned dinner, the unspoken anxieties baked into the pastries you gave away, all of it feels like a silent scream swallowed by the vast, quiet expanse of your days.
tears wonât come even if the knot in you throat screams for a cry. instead, your mind drifts to the closet, to the neat rows of clothes, the perfectly folded sweaters. tomorrow, you think, youâll reorganize the winter section. it needs it. you need it. a small, manageable task to fill the endless hours.
y/n choi: hi, it's y/n from the store. i think i'm free that day if the invite still stands
seonghwa park: hey!
seonghwa park: yeah of course đ
seonghwa park: glad ur coming, heres the address
seonghwa park: [location]
ŕ¨ŕ§
the building wasn't what you expected. grimy canvas of faded brick and peeling paint that slightly unnerved you. you pulled your phone from your pocket a third time, checked the address, then glanced up at the entrance like it might correct itself if you stayed waiting long enough.
no, this was it.
bass vibrated through the pavement, pulse beneath your feet. for a second, you consider leaving, then you adjust your grip on the small container in your hands and step inside. the hallway swallowed you whole, narrow canyon that smell suspiciously of gasoline. when you reach the graffiti painted door, it was already slightly open. you knocked anyway.
there's a small shuffle inside before seonghwa emerges, his grin a flash of white teeth.
"y/n! thought you weren't gonna make it." he stepped aside, his arm sweeping an invitation.
you offered a small, polite smile, stepping into the room. the air hit you first, thick with a cloying sweetness you couldn't recognize and the acrid bite of stale cigarettes. the apartment was a controlled chaos. art adorned every available surface, canvases leaning against walls, sketches tacked to corkboards, a half finished sculpture draped in cloth in a corner. the room swam with bodies. girls, their midriffs bare, navel piercings glinting under the strung fairy lights. men, their arms drawn with ink, sprawled on beanbags or perched on the worn, leather couches. they moved with an easy, unhurried rhythm, as if the space molded itself around their presence. your modest linen shirt, a soft ecru, felt suddenly like a costume, an ill fitting disguise.
"hey everyone, this is y/n, from high school." seonghwaâs voice cut through the haze, a casual announcement.
a few heads turned, a couple of languid nods, but most remained immersed in their conversations, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings. your gaze swept across the room, searching for a familiar face, a flicker of recognition. nothing.
"itâs... nice to meet you all," you murmured, voice a little too soft, a little too formal for the raucous atmosphere. you clutched the clear container in your hands, the weight of it suddenly grounding.
a girl with a constellation of tiny tattoos climbing her neck, her hair a violent shade of fuchsia, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at your hands. "whatâs that?"
you felt a blush creep up your neck. "oh. cookies. i made them." you held the container out, a silent offering.
a woman with striking, dark eyes and a generous smile detached herself from a group near the window. she wore spiked hair and her eyebrows seemed to be gone, but her presence offered a quiet anchor. "cookies! how cute. anna, by the way." she extended a hand, her grip firm and warm.
"y/n." you returned her shake, a surge of relief washing over you.
"i didn't know this was a bake sale," a gravelly voice grumbled from a corner, followed by a snort.
anna turned, her dark eyes narrowing playfully at the fat guy with a mohawk. "shut up, mark. you never bring anything." she gave his arm a quick, sharp shove. despite his joke, he came up as well.
a fresh wave of embarrassment hit you, cheeks burning as you began to stammer, "i just thought, you know, as a... a thank you for inviting me..."
anna waved your apology away. "no, itâs great! we love snacks. what kind?" she peered into the container, her eyes sparkling.
"chocolate chip. with sea salt." you offered, a small smile tentatively forming.
the lid popped open with a soft click. the aroma of warm chocolate and vanilla wafted through the air, momentarily cutting through the other scents. it was like a siren song. suddenly, a small crowd materialized around you, drawn by the scent. hands reached in, fingers deftly plucking cookies from their neat rows.
"someone brought cookies?"
"wait, i want cookies."
"no way, cookies?"
"save me one. i said save me one!"
the conversation dwindled, replaced by the soft sounds of chewing and contented murmurs. a lanky guy took the last cookie, giving you a between apologetic and grateful look and you laugh it off. within minutes, the container lay empty, a few crumbs clinging to it's clear sides. you felt a genuine smile spread across your face. the tension in your shoulders eased. "iâm glad you liked them."
for a moment everything was filled with overlapping conversations and easy movement, people drifting in and out without much structure. you sat at the couch with anna and mark. being spoken to, responded to, included without having to work for it. she asks you what else you like to bake. he asks where you live. the questions arenât deep, but they come one after another and you answer, laugh and nod. the silence you've been carrying around doesnât follow you in, it stays somewhere outside the door you walked through.
after a while, when the rhythm starts to feel harder to follow and topics shift quickly, you find your way back to seonghwa in the kitchen. heâs near the counter, talking to someone, but he glances over when you approach, like heâs been keeping track of where you are.
"hey," he says, turning slightly towards yo.
"hi," you answer before a small pause, then casually, "are any other people from our school coming?"
he doesn't hesitate. "nah," he says, shaking his head. "couldn't come."
"oh," you felt a pang of disappointment, small knot tightening in your stomach. youâd envisioned friendly faces, shared anecdotes, a comfortable bridge to this unfamiliar landscape. "okay."
"why?" he adds. "were you expecting someone?"
"no,no. i just thought maybe-" before trailing off, you shake your head lightly. "it's fine."
he watches you for a second, then nods once, like thatâs enough.
"youâre good," he says. "donât overthink it. come on, letâs get you a drink." seonghwa grinned, his hand briefly brushing your lower back as he steered you towards a cooler overflowing with ice and bottles.
you chose a sparkling water, the chill of the can a welcome sensation against your palm. you gravitated towards anna, who was now engaged in a lively discussion with mark about a band youâd never heard of. you hovered at the edge of their circle, listening, slowly piecing together fragments of their world. they spoke of gigs, of art installations, of obscure films, their words painting a vibrant, chaotic picture of lives lived on the fringes of convention.
as the evening continued it's slow, winding course, the hours passed by without warning, suddenly, it was later than you thought. through the subtle buzz in your veins and lightness you hadn't realized you were missing, the image of san already in bed, alone, stirred something in you. your small bag and empty container already in your hands.
"you can come in anytime, even if seonghwa isn't here." anna said before hugging you goodbye.
as you made your way towards the door, seonghwa intercepted you. "leaving already? come on, just one more drink." his voice was persuasive.
"i really should go. itâs getting late." you offered a polite, but firm smile.
he stepped closer, his hand briefly touching your arm. "you know, youâre really something, y/n. a real breath of fresh air." his eyes held yours, flicker of something unreadable in their depths.
"thank you, seonghwa. for inviting me." you pulled your arm away subtly.
"anytime. seriously. we should hang out again, just us two." his voice dropped, a low murmur intended only for your ears.
you felt a shiver, a faint unease prickling at your skin. "maybe," you said, voice noncommittal, then slipped out the door, back into the cool night air.
the street was quieter now, the bass from the building still a faint thrum in the distance. you walked and thought of the laughter, the music, the easy camaraderie, and a strange sense of longing settled in your chest. it was a world so different from your own, a world where boundaries seemed to blur, where emotions were worn on sleeves, where life felt raw and immediate.
stale cigarette smoke clung to your clothes, a new perfume you hadn't anticipated, but somehow, it felt less offensive than the lingering scent of dish soap from your day to day. your sensible sedan, parked a block away, seemed almost out of place among the battered vans and motorcycles. once you got in safely, you pulled out your phone, the screen illuminating your face with a single text from san from an hour ago: 'home. have a good time, night.' short, efficient, just like him. you stared at it and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to talk to him, to tell him about the fuchsia hair, the tattooed arms, their reactions to your cookies, the melancholic music, annaâs kind eyes. but you tucked your phone back into your purse, the small, bright screen now dark.
you unlocked the apartment door, the click echoing in the silent space. the air inside was still, heavy with the scent of your carefully chosen strawberry cake diffuser. a half eaten bowl sat on the kitchen counter, remnants of the chicken stir fry you had prepared earlier, the pan still on the stove, a few grains of rice clinging to it's surface. a small sigh of relief escaped your lips. he had eaten. the simple act, a confirmation of your effort, brought a satisfaction to you. you moved through the kitchen, the soft clink of ceramic and metal as you rinsed the bowl, scrubbed the pan. it was a mindless task, your hands working on autopilot, while your mind drifted back to the vibrant chaos of anna's house.
the bedroom was a hushed darkness. san lay sprawled on his side of the bed, a rumbling snore escaping his lips, his face buried in the pillow. the sheet, pulled up to his waist, outlined the broad expanse of his back, the familiar curve of his spine. a sight you knew intimately, a tableau repeated almost every night. he worked hard, you reminded yourself, always.
you untangled your hair from the neat french twist, the pins scattering like tiny metallic insects onto the polished wood of your dresser. soft fingers massaged your scalp, releasing the tension that had gathered there throughout the day. you stripped off your clothes replacing them with silk pajama shorts and a matching camisole. teeth brushed and bathroom light off, the bed dipped slightly as you eased yourself in, careful not to disturb san. he remained a dark, unmoving mass beside you, his breathing deep and even.
sleep, usually a welcome embrace, felt elusive tonight. your mind buzzed, a kaleidoscope of new faces, loud music, and unfiltered laughter. the freedom of it all, the raw, unpolished authenticity, contrasted sharply with the quiet, ordered life you had carefully constructed.
shifting restless, silk rustling against the sheets. the image of the girl's fuchsia hair, defiant and vibrant, flashed in your mind. her confident stride, her easy smile. what did she worry about? did she ever feel this profound, aching quietness? you turned your head, watching the gentle rise and fall of san's back. the moonlight, filtering through the gap in the curtains, painted a silver line along his broad shoulder, the muscle defined even in repose. he was strong, reliable, your rock. yet lately, the rock was a mountain you couldn't climb.
a pang of something sharp, something akin to longing, twisted in your gut. you wanted to feel. you wanted to be seen. not just as the wife who kept the house, who cooked the meals, but as you, again. the you who had laughed tonight, unburdened. the one you knew san had fallen in love with.
your hand, almost without conscious thought, slipped beneath the silk of your pajama shorts. the fabric parted, your fingers, tentative at first, found the soft mound of your grown pubic hair, then the slick, warm folds beneath. a small gasp escaped your lips, swallowed by the quiet room. your core, already sensitive, pulsed beneath your touch. you stroked, slowly, deliberately, soft pressure building.
subtly, your hips began to tilt, involuntary movement, pressing into your palm. your fingers worked with a quiet urgency, tracing the delicate ridges, circling the peak of your clitoris. a moistness spread, warm, slick rush that dampened the silk shorts beneath your hand. the sensation intensified, a delicious ache blooming deep inside you, spreading through your belly. your breathing hitched, growing shallow, ragged.
wake up, i'm here.
you closed your eyes, a torrent of images flashing behind your eyelids. san, the warmth of his touch, a vague, undefined hunger. you pressed harder, your thumb finding a rhythm, a steady, insistent pressure. a low moan, barely audible, escaped your throat, a sound of pure pleasure. your whole body tensed, arching slightly into your hand. the climax a sudden, exquisite release, wave of heat that cascaded through your limbs, leaving you trembling, breathless.
ŕ¨ŕ§
the shrill ring of the alarm ripped you from a dreamless sleep. your eyes fluttered open, the room still shrouded in pre dawn gloom. a glance at the clock sent a jolt of panic through you. 6:45 am. san left at 7:30. you had overslept.
you scrambled out of bed, the silk shorts clinging briefly before you shed them. the floor was cool beneath your bare feet.
"san, wake up," you whispered, nudging his shoulder. he grunted and slowly, reluctantly, stirred.
you moved with practiced efficiency, a whirlwind of motion in the quiet kitchen. the scent of brewing coffee began to fill the air, mingling with the sizzle of eggs in the pan. toast popped, butter melted, and the rhythmic thud of a knife chopping fruit filled the space. san emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed, his black hair still damp, clinging to his forehead. he looked tired, his eyes still holding the remnants of sleep, but his movements were precise, methodical.
"morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. he poured himself a mug of coffee, the steam curling around his face.
"morning," you replied, already assembling his lunch. a neat stack of sandwiches, a small container of cut fruit, a handful of almonds. you wrapped it all meticulously, fitting it into his lunch bag.
"did you sleep okay?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. he leaned against the counter, watching you.
"yeah, eventually," you said, trying to keep your voice light. you packed a small thermos of tea. "i went to that thing last night, you know, the hangout thing?"
he nodded before picking up a slice of toast, spreading jam onto it. "how was it?"
"it was...different," you began, a small smile playing on your lips. you wanted to tell him everything, about the fuchsia hair, the tattoos, the unexpected warmth. "it was in this old building, kind of grungy, but everyone was so nice. there was this girl, sally, she had the most incredible hair, like, bright pink and her face was like a strainer, filled with piercings, it was so cool. and then i met anna, she had these dark intimidating eyes but she was actually really sweet. sheâs a photographer for bands."
he turned to you with a slight frown. "y/n?"
"yeah?" you cleaned your hands with a kitchen towel.
"you're not... getting into anything dangerous, are you?"
you tilted your head, looking at him confused. "what? no, no. they were really nice people, they had this energy, like they just didn't care what anyone thought. it was kind of... inspiring."
"hmm..." he took a bite with a raised brow. "be careful y/n, you know how those types can be."
the warmth youâd felt, a flicker of shared experience, began to cool. "i am. but listen, there was also music, not like the music we usually listen to, more like a band sound," you continued, a little more emphatically, trying to inject some of the excitement you had felt into your words. "there was this guy, he had these huge arms filled with tattoos and he had a mohawk, i'd never seen one of those in real life."
he looked away again, finished his toast and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "just donât get into anything foolish." he reached for his briefcase and lunchbox, already moving towards the door.
your shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly, there was so much you still wanted to tell him. but there was also no time, you knew. there never was. he was already halfway out the door, his hand on the knob.
"i'll make your favorite soup for dinner tonight," you offered, a last ditch effort to connect, to anchor him for just a moment longer.
he paused, turning his head slightly. a small, tired smile touched his lips, revealing the faint indentations of his dimples. "thanks, that sounds great, i'll try not to be too late. love you."
"love you," you mumbled as the door shut and he was gone, the click of the lock echoing in the now silent apartment. you stood in the kitchen, surrounded by the lingering scent of coffee and eggs.
y/n choi: hi, it's y/n, i had a really good time yesterday.
seonghwa park: hey, me too
seonghwa park: everyone loved u btw, they were all talking about how sweet you were when you left
y/n choi: really? that's so nice to hear
seonghwa park: ur coming next week, right?
y/n choi: again?
seonghwa park: yeah
seonghwa park: we hang out every weekend
seonghwa park: always at annas
seonghwa park: come ooon, ull have t come
seonghwa park: ur a part of the group now
the words, simple and direct, landed like a soft blanket on your exposed nerves. a part of the group now. the phrase resonated, a balm to the quiet ache sanâs rushed departure had left behind. it wasnât profound, not a declaration of affection, but it was an invitation, a recognition. it felt like a small hand reaching out in the growing expanse of your solitude.
y/n choi: iâd like that, thanks seonghwa.
the next week crawled by, each day a slow, methodical march of chores and quiet anticipation. the perfect bed, the planned dinners, the reorganizing of the linen closet. each task a meticulous attempt to fill the hours, to ward off the encroaching loneliness. but seonghwaâs words, hummed beneath the surface.
a part of the group now.
as saturday evening approached, nervous flutter stirred in your stomach. you pulled out a simple, soft cotton t-shirt, one you usually wore for lounging. then, a pair of well worn dark jeans. your fingers went to your hair, letting it fall, then found a simple black velvet hairband, pushing back the front strands.
the grungy building loomed, a concrete behemoth adorned with a tapestry of peeling posters and vibrant graffiti. the door stood ajar again, inviting light spilling onto the cracked pavement. but politeness, ingrained deep within you, compelled your knuckles to tap softly against it.
the door swung open further, revealing anna. her spiked hair, dark halo around her face, seemed to defy gravity. thicker eyeliner from the last time, you noticed. a cigarette dangled from her lips, thin wisp of smoke curling lazily into the air.
"well, look who it is," annaâs voice, raspy like gravel, held a surprising warmth. a slow smile spread across her face, revealing a glint of metal in her upper teeth. "you bring cookies this time, wifey?"
you laughed, unforced sound that surprised even yourself. "i didnât, iâm afraid." faint blush touched your cheeks.
anna leaned against the doorframe, taking a drag from her cigarette. "shame. your hair looks good though, so i'll let you in." she winked, a playful glint in her dark eyes.
you stepped inside murmuring a small "thanks." she led you into the living room as seonghwa, who was meticulously cleaning something that looked like a round bottom flask, rose from the couch.
"hey, you. where's my hug?" he grinned, a flash of genuine pleasure in his expression. he offered a thight hug, quick squeeze that felt surprisingly comforting. "glad you came back."
"come on, iâll show you my current obsession." anna, having stubbed out her cigarette in a makeshift ashtray, clapped you on the shoulder and led you to a corner of the living room, where a makeshift studio was set up. a flash unit sat on a tripod, and a black backdrop hung from a makeshift frame.
she showed you her new lighting techniques, her raspy voice softening as she spoke about her craft, explaining each of the series of prints tacked to the wall. the subjects, all punk, stared out with an intensity that pulled you in. low groan emanated from the other side of the room. mark, with his pants that perpetually threatened to slide off his ample frame, was getting another tattoo. the machine buzzing like an angry bee.
you watched, a strange mix of fascination and unease stirring within you. the raw intimacy of the moment, the deliberate pain, the permanent mark being etched into skin. it was so far removed from your carefully ordered world. visceral, unapologetic. you thought of san, of his disciplined body, his aversion to anything that might disrupt his carefully constructed order. a tattoo, to him, would be an act of reckless abandon, an unnecessary defacement.
anna exchanged a few words with the tattoo artist and you followed seonghwa and sally into the kitchen.
"tacos?" you asked, a sudden urge to ground yourself in something familiar, something productive.
"attempting to," seonghwa repeated, a wry smile playing on his lips. sally, armed with a knife, was making a valiant but clumsy effort to chop an onion. tears streamed down her heavily made up face.
"this is harder than it looks," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing eyeliner.
"i donât even know if this is cooked enough. it still looks⌠pink."
you stepped forward with quiet confidence. this, you knew. this was your domain. "let me help," you offered, already reaching for the cutting board. you gently took the knife, demonstrating a quick, efficient chop that produced even dice.
you moved with an easy grace, hands finding their rhythm. chicken seasoned, a blend of spices from the overflowing spice rack that seemed to surprise even seonghwa. you showed sally how to properly dice tomatoes and shred lettuce, your voice soft but instructive. the kitchen, which had been a scene of mild culinary disaster, slowly began to transform into an efficient workspace.
"wow," sally beamed, her fuchsia hair bouncing. "seriously, my mom just nukes everything."
it was a simple thing, a small act of connection, of contribution. but you felt useful, appreciated. the feeling was a pleasant counterpoint to the quiet solitude of your own kitchen at home, where your culinary efforts often met with sanâs polite, but often silent, approval.
the group gathered at the living room again, something being passed from hand to hand. you saw it before you recognized it, it wasn't tobacco.
the joint made it's rounds, anna took a long drag, her eyes closing in apparent contentment. seonghwa inhaled deeply, then exhaled a plume of smoke that dissolved into the dim light. sally giggled, her eyes a little brighter, her movements a little looser.
then, markâs hand, big with his new tattoo, extended towards you, holding the burning joint. the tip glowed orange, small pulsating ember. a hush fell over the group, subtle, expectant. no one said anything, but their gazes, soft and encouraging, rested on you.
your breath hitched. your mind, usually so clear, swam with conflicting thoughts. weed. the word echoed in your head, sharp and disapproving. sanâs voice, clear as day, cut through the hazy atmosphere.
disgusting. itâs not a gateway. it destroys lives.
his lectures, delivered with a quiet intensity, about the dangers of drugs, of anything that clouded judgment, that compromised control. he hated it. he hated all of it. smoking, drinking to excess, any form of escape that wasnât productive, wasnât measured.
your gaze flickered to markâs hand, then to seonghwa, who offered a small, reassuring nod. a strange defiance, a tiny spark of rebellion, ignited within you. san, with his rigid rules and his unspoken expectations, felt miles away, a distant, fading echo. here, in this room, with these people, there was an unspoken permission, an acceptance of difference.
you thought of the quiet mornings, the unasked questions, the emotional chasm that had grown between you and san. you thought of the lingering loneliness, the slow, insidious fading of sparks. you thought of his hurried goodbye, his preoccupation, his casual dismissal of your small joys.
a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips. it wasnât about wanting to get high. it was a quiet protest. a moment of reclaiming a sliver of yourself that felt lost, submerged under layers of wifely duty and unspoken disappointment. it was a fleeting, irrational thought, but it felt powerful in it's simplicity.
trembling fingers, usually so steady, reached for the joint. your eyes met seonghwaâs, then annaâs. they offered soft, almost imperceptible smiles.
the joint touched your lips. the paper felt rough against your skin. the smell, pungent and earthy, filled your nostrils. you hesitated for a fraction of a second, a silent battle raging within. then, you inhaled.
the smoke, harsh and acrid, scraped your throat. you coughed between involuntary gasps. tears sprang to your eyes. the group chuckled softly. your lungs burned, heat spread through your chest, then a dizzying lightness in your head. it wasnât pleasant, not yet. but as the initial shock subsided, a curious sensation began to bloom. a loosening. a letting go.
the world around you, already vibrant, seemed to soften at the edges. the music, a low thrumming before, now seemed to pulse with a deeper rhythm. the faces around you, previously distinct, now blurred into a warm, accepting tableau.
you exhaled, a shaky, uneven breath. the smoke drifted upwards in a cloud, carrying with it a rebellious whisper.
the taco shell crumbled in your fingers, a warm, messy embrace of seasoned chicken and melted cheese. a laugh, sharp and high, tore from your throat. it wasnât your laugh, not really, but it escaped anyway.
"y/n, these are..." sally kissed the tips of her fingertips at once. a piece of tomato, vibrant red, clung to her chin. you watched it, mesmerized, as it wobbled precariously. like a tiny significant event.
"no, for real. this is the best shit i've ever eaten," someone grunted as they took another bite, cheeks bulging. the sound of their chewing a symphonic rhythm, wet crunch that filled the room.
you smiled, you think, a wide, unbidden thing that stretched your face. your cheeks felt warm and tingly. the praise, usually a balm, now felt like a spotlight, too bright, too focused. you didn't need to respond. the air itself seemed to hum with approval.
seonghwa leaned in, his hair brushing your shoulder. the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. it was a new smell, suddenly potent, a story in itself.
"you have to come over more often," he murmured. his words were slow, stretched out, like taffy. "weâd starve without you."
you nodded, or thought you did. the room swirled, a gentle eddy of color and sound. the soft glow of the fairy lights strung across annaâs living room became individual, shimmering points, each one a tiny sun.
anna, perched on the armrest of a worn armchair, watched you, her eyes unblinking. she held a half eaten taco, but she wasnât eating. she was just watching. a flicker of concern crossed her face, or maybe it was just the way the light caught her smudged makeup.
you turned your head, the motion slow, deliberate, like moving through thick syrup. seonghwaâs face was inches from yours. his eyes liquid and half lidded. a tiny mole, small and innocent on his ear. you had never noticed it before.
"you know," he began, his voice dropping, a conspiratorial whisper meant only for you, "i actually lied to you."
the words themselves were like individual pearls, strung together on an invisible thread that made your breath hitch.
"about what?" you managed a reedy whisper. it sounded like someone else speaking.
he chuckled like it was obvious. "about keeping in touch with people from high school. i don't. not really. i just... wanted you to have a reason to come."
the confession ignited a fresh burst of laughter. bubbled up from deep inside, unrestrained, joyful. it felt like a new sensation, a freedom you hadn't known existed. the idea of him lying, out of all things, struck you as profoundly hilarious.
he smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips as his hand, warm and calloused, covered yours on the couch cushion. his thumb traced a slow, hypnotic circle on your skin. it wasn't unpleasant. it was just... there. a sensation.
"y/n, i know youâre unhappy."
unhappiness? that was a concept. right now, there was only the incredibly soft fabric of the couch, the taste of spices on your tongue, the intricate pattern on annaâs rug.
"you deserve so much more," he continued, voice thick and low, "than whatever youâre settling for."
you blinked. his face, so close, seemed to waver, like a reflection in water.
"i want you so bad," a whisper you didn't caught on the movements of his lips, his grip tightening on your hand. "i want to make you happy."
you don't know why he kept making sounds with his mouth. the words drifted past, like smoke. meaningless vibrations in the air. your mind, untethered, floated above them, observing.
then, the world tilted. a wave of warmth, heavy and comforting, washed over you. the trip slowed, the colors blending into a soft, indistinct haze. the universe faded into a gentle lullaby.
ŕ¨ŕ§
rough wool blanket against your cheek, smelling faintly of incense and something vaguely sweet, covering you. your eyes fluttered open. the room was bathed in a dim, pre dawn light, a pale grey filtering through the blinds. you blinked, trying to orient yourself. the couch. annaâs couch.
a low snore rumbled from the floor. you peered over the armrest. mark, a lumpy silhouette, was sprawled on a pile of blankets, his mohawk flattened. sally was curled up near him, a splash of fuchsia against the muted tones. anna was nowhere in sight. seonghwa? you scanned the room. no.
dull throb resonated behind your eyes. your mouth felt like sandpaper. you pushed yourself up, the blanket slipping to your lap. the memories of the night were a jumbled mess, like a deck of san's numbers scattered on the floor. flashes of laughter, the taste of tacos, the feeling of warmth. but specific words, specific moments, they were gone, swallowed by the haze.
you fumbled for your purse, slung precariously over the back of the couch. chocolate. a small, dark bar, your emergency comfort. you tore off a piece, the rich, bitter sweetness a welcome shock to your tongue.
you pulled out your phone. three forty seven a.m.
your heart gave a sharp, painful lurch. san. you could almost hear the silence of your apartment, the empty space beside him in bed. a wave of guilt, cold and sharp, washed over you, chasing away the last vestiges of the warm fog.
as careful as you could be, you rose quietly to not disturb the sleeping figures. your movements quiet, deliberate.
the drive home was a blur of streetlights and silent roads. each turn of the wheel felt like a small act of atonement. the city was asleep, a vast, dark canvas. then you finally pulled into your parking spot, the apartment building quiet and imposing.
apartment dark, save for the faint glow from the digital clock on the microwave. you slipped off your shoes, the sink. a plate, crusted with dried sauce, sat precariously on the edge, a half empty mug beside it. san. he had eaten, gone to bed. done.
straight to the bathroom, you stepped under the spray, letting the hot water cascade over your skin. it wasnât just the smell, but the night itself. the laughter, the forgotten words, the unsettling intimacy. you scrubbed, hard, as if you could scour away the memory, leaving your skin, and your mind, clean and blank once more. you wanted to emerge, refreshed, as if the night had never happened. as if you hadnât tasted that strange, momentary freedom.
ŕ¨ŕ§
the sound pulled at your teeth. tremor in the soles of your new sneakers, premonition of the chaos within. this weekend, anna's apartment building pulsed with an unholy rhythm. this wasn't the hazy, languid hum of last week. this was a beast unleashed.
seonghwaâs band, the ruptured veins or something like that, thrashed in the living room. how theyâd squeezed a drum kit, a full amp stack, and three guitarists into the already cramped space remained a mystery. mark, sweat plastering his mohawk to his skull, pounded the drums with a primal ferocity that threatened to crack the plaster. sally contorted over her bass, each pluck a sharp jab to your eardrums. seonghwa, all flailing limbs and guttural shouts was at the center. the sound wasnât music. it was a wall of noise, an excuse of distorted guitars and ear splitting percussion that clawed at your sanity.
bodies, too many bodies, swayed and thrashed in the dim light, a sea of black leather and ripped denim. you felt like an alien even if you tried dressing in your darkest clothes. a hand, sticky and warm, brushed your arm, offering a glass. you instinctively recoiled, the smell of cheap beer and something cloyingly sweet, making your stomach churn.
seonghwaâs eyes flashed you a grin across the room, a feral baring of teeth, and gave a thumbs up. you forced a weak smile back, the corners of your mouth feeling stiff and unnatural. the volume intensified, a new wave of sound washing over you, drowning out thought, drowning out everything.
a bong, you learned, it's glass bulb milky with smoke, appeared before your face. a girl with tangled dreadlocks and eyes that swam in their sockets pushed it closer.
"hit it, y/n!" she slurred a shout, her voice a gravelly whisper against the roar.
you shook your head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "no, thanks!"
she shrugged, apathetic, and passed it to the next person. another, a lean guy with a spiderweb tattoo crawling up his neck, who had earlier complained about the brownies you brought not being the "fun ones."
the words felt like pebbles in your throat. you had enough, you needed quiet, needed to escape the relentless assault on your ears. you navigated the throng, each step a battle against jostling elbows and oblivious revelers. you reached the bathroom and pushed open the door for the now muffled sound to lower, then you saw her.
sprawled on the cracked linoleum, half hidden by a discarded shower curtain, lay a woman. her head rested at an awkward angle against the toilet bowl, a thin stream of saliva tracing a path down her chin. she looked older than the others, perhaps in her early thirties, though the lines etched on her face spoke of a life lived hard, not necessarily long. two distinct scars stood out against her skin. her face, even in repose, held a weary resignation, map of battles fought and lost. she wasn't breathing right. shallow, ragged gasps punctuated the silence, each one a struggle.
panic seized you. you knelt beside her, your fingers fumbling for her pulse, finding a weak, thready beat at her neck.
"hey," you whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. "hey, are you okay?"
no response. her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted. this wasn't a drunken nap. this was something else, something far more sinister.
your hand instinctively went for your phone, pulling it from your pocket. 911. ambulance. you needed to call an ambulance. your fingers, trembling, navigated the screen.
"i wouldn't do that if i were you."
a hand, heavy and surprisingly strong, clamped around your wrist. your breath hitched. you looked up, startled. a man stood over you. he was burly, with a shaved head and a face like hammered iron. his eyes, dark and flat, bore into yours.
"unless you wanna be trouble," his voice cut through the residual band noise. it wasn't a suggestion. it was a command, heavy with unspoken threat.
your heart hammered against your ribs. you tried to pull your wrist free, but his grip was unyielding, almost bruising. "she needs help," you managed barely a squeak. "sheâs not breathing right."
mirthless chuckle rumbled in his chest. "sheâs fine. just had a little too much fun." his gaze flickered to your phone. "you call anyone, youâll regret it."
the warning hung thick and menacing. you met his stare, a shiver running down your spine. the flat emptiness in his eyes, the casual cruelty in his tone, left no room for doubt. he meant it.
slowly, reluctantly, you let your hand drop, your phone clattering softly against the tiles. his grip loosened, then released. you scrambled backward, away from him, away from the unconscious woman, from the suffocating threat. he watched you, unsettling smirk playing on his lips, then turned his attention back to the woman, nudging her with his foot.
you burst out of the bathroom, the music now a mocking roar. you needed anna. anna would know what to do. anna would understand. you pushed through the bodies, eyes scanning the faces, a frantic desperation clawing at your throat. "anna!" you shouted, the word swallowed by the sheer volume. "anna!"
no one heard you. no one even seemed to notice your distress. they just continued to push each other, lost in their own discordant revelry. you spotted a doorway, half hidden behind a towering speaker, and instinctively veered towards it, hoping to find a quieter space, a less crowded corner where anna might be.
it led to a short, narrow hallway, mercifully less populated. at the end, another door, slightly ajar, spilled a soft, yellow light onto the floor. you pushed it open, a desperate plea for help forming on your lips.
the room contrasted to the chaos outside. a single, bare bulb cast a warm glow over a small, unmade bed. and there, on the floor, surrounded by a haphazard collection of worn stuffed animals and bright plastic blocks, sat anna, but she wasn't alone. a small figure, no older than five, sat nestled against her side, a book with brightly colored illustrations open in it's lap. the child, a boy with a shock of dark hair and wide, innocent eyes, looked up as you entered.
"mommy, whoâs that?" his voice, clear and sweet, pierced the lingering noise in your ears like a needle.
mommy.
the word echoed, reverberated, then shattered something fragile inside you. annaâs head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. a flicker of something, guilt? embarrassment? crossed her face before she quickly composed herself.
"y/n," she said, her voice lowered as she gently pushed the boy behind her. "everything alright?"
everything alright? the irony tasted heavy. now, a child. her child, in this suffocating place. the realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. this wasnât just a party. this wasn't just a group of friends messing around. this was a life. a harsh, brutal, unforgiving life that you had no part in. the music, which had been an unpleasant background noise, now felt like a blaring siren, screaming the truth. you didn't belong here. not even close. this wasn't edgy. this wasn't rebellious. this was dangerous. this was real.
you shook your head, unable to speak, your throat tight with unshed tears. the image of the passed out woman, the manâs cold eyes, the innocent child, all swirled in a sickening vortex.
"i..." you started, then stopped, the words catching. you didnât need to explain. anna, with her sudden shift in demeanor, her protective stance over the child, understood.
you turned, a silent retreat, your feet moving on their own accord. you didn't say goodbye. you didn't look back. the door clicked shut behind you, a soft thud against the relentless thrum of the bass.
you navigated the hallway, then the living room, a ghost moving through the throng. no one noticed your departure. the band still roared, seonghwa still shrieked into the mic as he kicked the audience in the face in a blur of motion. you pushed past the last lingering bodies near the door, the cool night air hitting your face like a lifeline.
the street was alive with a different kind of noise. the bandâs sound, though fainter, still pulsed through the asphalt, relentless reminder of what you were leaving behind. a group of figures huddled under a flickering street lamp, their movements jerky, unnatural. as you approached, their eyes, glazed and vacant, fixed on you.
"hey, pretty thing, all alone?" one slurred, his voice hoarse, lewd grin spreading across his face.
"where you going in such a hurry?" another whistled, a long, drawn out sound that made your skin crawl.
you kept walking, pace quickening, eyes fixed straight ahead. donât look. donât engage. donât acknowledge. your heart hammered a frantic drum against your ribs. you felt exposed, vulnerable, felt the harsh reality of the street.
your car door shut like a beacon of safety at the end of the block. you fumbled for your keys, fingers clumsy with fear, gripping the steering wheel with knuckles white the whole drive back home, breath coming in ragged gasps. not daring to glance in the rearview mirror once. you drove faster than necessary.
this was not your world. this was not where you belonged. you would never come back. you promised yourself that, a vow whispered into the empty, echoing space of your car, a promise etched in the raw, aching fear still thrumming beneath your skin.
the click of the lock echoed. inside, the air heavy with scent of instant noodles and something sweet, like canned peaches. a white plastic container sat on the kitchen counter, half-eaten, a pair of chopsticks resting beside it. san had takeout. a cold knot tightened in your stomach. you forgot to make him dinner earlier. another layer to the eveningâs sour taste.
san, shirtless, was just shrugging out of his work trousers when you entered the room, his back to you. he paused, one leg still in the pant leg, turning his head at the sound of your entrance. his brown eyes, warm and steady, widened slightly.
"youâre back early," he said, the words a quiet murmur in the hushed room. a flicker of surprise crossed his face. he finished pulling off his pants, tossing them onto the laundry hamper with an easy flick of his wrist.
you managed a weak nod, the muscles in your face protesting the effort, too tired to feign a smile. your gaze slid past him, landing on the bathroom door. escape. you moved towards it.
"y/n." his voice stopped you mid stride. you looked over your shoulder, hand hovering over the cool brass doorknob.
"whatâs that smell?"
you didn't turn around, the lie already forming on your tongue, bitter pill. "i... i fell into a puddle earlier."
a beat of silence stretched, taut and thin. you watched him, standing there, his brow furrowed, processing your words. you waited for the follow up, the gentle probing, the concern that used to laced his questions. but it didnât come.
"oh," he said, the single syllable flat, devoid of inflection. he picked up his shirt from the bed, pulling it over his head, then pulled back the covers.
you finally turned, gaze fixed on his retreating back, already settling in. your eyes traced the strong line of his shoulder, the curve of his neck. he was there, and he wasn't. is that all youâre going to ask? the words hovered on your tongue, sharp and desperate. you wanted him to push, to see through your flimsy lie, to demand more. you wanted him to care enough to unravel the carefully constructed facade. almost, you wanted him to know. to know about the music, the drugs, the woman, the fear, the suffocating loneliness that had driven you there in the first place.
"is that all youâre going to ask?" you heard yourself say.
he paused, his hand reaching for the bedside lamp. "is there something else i should know?'
your heart hammered against your ribs. this was it. the open door. the invitation. a single word, a sigh, a broken sentence, and the truth would spill out. you needed to test the boundaries, to see how far he would go, how deep he would dig.
"no," you said, the lie tasting like ash. your gaze held his, searching for a flicker of doubt, a hint of suspicion, anything that would tell you he wasnât buying it.
he held your gaze for a moment longer, then his lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "okay then." he reached for the lamp, plunging the room into near darkness. he shifted, settling deeper into the pillows.
a choked sound, a low groan of frustration, escaped your lips. he hadnât pushed. he hadnât questioned. he hadnât cared enough to look beyond the surface. you turned abruptly, stalking towards the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind you with a satisfying thud. the sound echoed, a punctuation mark on your silent fury.
san lay in the sudden darkness, his eyes wide open. the faint aroma of something acrid you brought and he couldn't quite place, still lingered in the air. a puddle, he thought. she fell in a puddle. it sounded plausible enough. you were clumsy sometimes, always lost in your own thoughts. he trusted you. he trusted you completely. a small smile touched his lips. it was good you were out, seeing old friends. you needed that. a small part of him felt a pang of guilt for not being able to provide more excitement, more spontaneity in your life. but he was working for your future, for your stability, to provide for you. he believed that was love, that was care. he rolled onto his side, pulling the duvet up to his chin. he heard the shower running, the sound a soft, comforting hum. he closed his eyes, his mind already drifting to tomorrow's spreadsheets, the complex equations that made perfect sense in a world that often didn't. everything was fine. you were having fun. it was okay if you forgot dinner sometimes. you could always order takeout. he was happy. he assumed you were too.
the next morning, the apartment hummed with the usual rhythm of your routine. you woke before him, the first rays of dawn painting the bedroom walls a soft grey. you made the bed, pulling the sheets taut, plumping the pillows with practiced ease. the scent of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the air, followed by the sizzle of eggs in the pan.
san emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed in his crisp white shirt and specifically tailored pants. he kissed your cheek, a soft brush of lips, and then sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone.
it became a monotonous cycle of routine.
you'd have your small talk, watch him eat, his movements precise, efficient, and then he was out the door. then, you'd wander into the bedroom, the perfectly made bed an ironic symbol of your life. you'd pick up your phone, cold blinding glass, and scrolled through social media. endless stream of meaningless shorts of nothing. you'd sink yourself in bed and let the hours melt. youtube videos, a reality show you cared about for two hours, articles about celebrity gossip. anything to fill the void, to drown out the insistent whisper of your own thoughts.
you woke him, prepared his meals, vaguely cleaned what was obvious. but the moments in between stretched, vast and empty. you spent them in bed, phone in hand, the world outside shrinking to the confines of your screen. at night, you wouldn't sleep. every shadow twisted into a threat, every creak of the floorboards a reminder of unspoken dangers. san had simply mentioned you seemed a little tired. youâd blame it on a bad dream, a headache. anything but the truth. the vibrant, productive life you once shared with san, the shared dreams, the late night conversations, they felt like a distant memory, replaced by this quiet, isolated existence.
one evening, sanâs footsteps echoed in the hallway, the familiar jingle of his keys preceding his entrance. he walked into the kitchen, his briefcase thudding softly onto the counter. he paused, his eyes scanning the immaculate space. the stovetop was clean, the counters clear. no scent of cooking, no simmering pots.
"i ordered pizza," you said, voice flat, emerging from the living room where you sat on the sofa, scrolling through your phone. the thought of cooking, of meticulously chopping vegetables and stirring pots, felt like an insurmountable task. the effort, the pretense of normalcy, was too much. you simply couldnât.
"okay," his voice quiet. you couldn't decipher his tone, surprise? confusion? whatever.
for once, he didn't immediately take his laptop. he watched you, his expression unreadable. he picked up a slice, silence punctuated only by the soft chewing sounds.
"i spoke to noeul today," he said, cutting through the quiet.
you froze, a slice of pizza halfway to your mouth. "oh?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice came out a little too sharp.
"she was wondering why you stood her up for lunch," he continued, took another bite of pizza, his eyes still fixed on you.
"i... i wasn't feeling well," you swallowed, the pizza suddenly tasting like cardboard.
he paused, chewing slowing. his dark eyes, usually so placid, held a new depth, a subtle intensity. he studied your face, his gaze searching, probing.
"is everything okay, y/n?" he asked, the question soft, gentle, yet it hit you with the force of a blow. this was the first time in weeks, months even, that he had truly looked at you, truly asked.
you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. relief that he was finally seeing, finally asking. fear that he would see too much. anger that it had taken him this long. a desperate, clinging hope that he might actually understand.
you opened your mouth, but what could you say? no, san. everything is not okay. iâm lonely. melancholic. iâm lost. iâve been hanging out with people who smoke weed and threaten me. i lied to you. i donât know who i am anymore. the truth felt too vast, too overwhelming, too ugly to articulate.
you closed your mouth, nodding slowly. "yes," you whispered, the lie a refuge. "everythingâs fine."
he didnât push further. he simply nodded, a slow thoughtful movement. he finished his pizza in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you. he didn't know what to do. he thought he was doing everything right, providing stability, working hard. but he felt that something wasn't actually right. he could feel it. and for the first time, the thought that his stability might not be enough began to gnaw at him.
ŕ¨ŕ§
"well, well, well," you couldn't see seonghwa's face through the phone but you just knew a smile stretched across his face, all teeth and charm. "look who finally decided to give signs of life."
you took a breath, "iâm sorry about that. i felt a little... overwhelmed."
"overwhelmed?" he chuckled a sound that grated. "we had a blast, though. sally was asking where you went."
a forced light laugh came out of you. "i'm sorry, it's just... don't take this the wrong way but, i don't think it's my scene."
the seconds of silence made you more nervous than you liked to admit. "oh? whyâs that? did anna scare you off? sheâs all bark, no bite, you know."
"itâs not anna." you walked to the window, staring out at the streets. "itâs just not... itâs not for me." you chose your words carefully.
"not for you, huh... too much for the perfect little housewife?"
you didn't know what to say, or even if you should reply. this is not the way you had wanted to come off.
"come on, y/n. " his tone shifted again, becoming almost playful, seductive. "you canât just ditch us. we were just getting to know you. and you, me, we had a connection, didnât we?"
you closed your eyes and sighed. "i appreciate the invitation, seonghwa. but i really donât think itâs a good idea."
"wait, wait, wait." his voice was quick, slightly desperate. "donât hang up. this saturday. itâll be different. i promise."
"different how?"
"no loud music. no... overwhelming crowds." he mimicked your earlier word with annoyance. "itâll be at my place. daylight. weâll just chill. listen to some records. maybe sally will bring her new bass. anna her camera, snap some pictures. itâll be... a real hangout. no pressure. just us."
a day hangout. at his place. no crowds. the thought of seeing anna, of making sure she was okay, flickered. and sally. youâd genuinely liked sally. you chewed on your lip, disappearing without a trace, even from people who were clearly not good for you, felt... rude. you were not rude. you prided yourself on your manners, on leaving things tidily. this would be your last clean exit. a proper goodbye.
"it'll be calm? no substances?" you asked with a small voice.
"yeah. we'll just chill."
you sighed, a long, slow release of air. "fine. but if it gets crazy, iâm leaving."
"deal!" his voice triumphant. "iâll text you the address. saturday. two oâclock. donât be late, y/n."
you hung up on him, the silence of the kitchen pressing in on you. a mistake? probably. but you had to make things right. you had to say goodbye. properly.
the next few days were a flurry of quiet preparations. you found a well loved cookbook at a second hand store, it's pages dog eared and stained with flour. sally had seemed genuinely interested in your chicken tacos, you remember her bouncing as she peered over your shoulder. a small childish bunny stuffed animal, soft and grey, caught your eye in a boutique window. annaâs son. he deserved a little softness in a world that seemed so hard. you wrapped the gifts carefully, a futile attempt to infuse them with the warmth you wished you could offer.
saturday afternoon, the sun bright in the sky. you drove, the directions seonghwa had texted leading you through unfamiliar streets, past industrial parks and forgotten warehouses. the address finally brought you to a hidden nook, tucked away behind a row of dilapidated auto shops. a trailer park. a small, unexpected community of metal boxes, each with it's own patch of scraggly grass and faded plastic lawn ornaments. you hadnât known such a place existed in the heart of the city.
seonghwaâs trailer, a faded blue, stood at the end of a gravel path. your stomach twisted. you clutched the gifts tighter, the paper rustling. you knocked, a soft tap that felt too polite for the setting. the door creaked open, revealing him. his hair looking a little disheveled, as if heâd just woken up. a faint smell of something herbal, not entirely unpleasant, wafted from inside.
"oh, you actually came." he grinned as he rubbed the weariness out of his face.
"i said i would." you offered a small smile, trying to ignore the sudden awkwardness that settled between you. "i brought some things." you held up the wrapped gifts.
"oh, for me?" he reached for them, but you pulled back slightly.
"no. for sally and annaâs son."
his hand dropped, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "right. well, come on in. youâre the first one here."
the trailer was small, surprisingly neat but dim. a worn couch, covered in a faded floral sheet, dominated the living area. a small television flickered silently in the corner, displaying a nature documentary. a guitar leaned against the wall. it felt... lived in.
"make yourself at home," he gestured vaguely at the couch. "the others should be here any minute. markâs always late. sally said she had to pick up some new strings. anna⌠well, annaâs anna." he laughed, a short, nervous sound.
you sat on the edge of the couch, placing the gifts carefully beside you. the cushions sagged beneath you, smell of old fabric rised to meet you. the silence, punctuated only by the chirping of unseen birds on the television, was deafening. you felt a sudden urge to fill it, to chatter, to ask about his band, about anything. but you couldn't.
"want something to drink?" he asked, already moving towards a small, cluttered kitchenette.
"just water, please." you watched him, his movements surprisingly graceful for someone so wiry. he pulled out two glasses, poured a clear liquid from a plastic bottle into one, and then, to another one that was already sitting on the counter. he didnât seem to notice your gaze.
a tiny, insistent voice in the back of your mind, screamed. you took the glass, your fingers brushing his, skin rough. you brought the glass to your lips, pretending to take a sip, letting the rim touch your mouth, but not letting any liquid pass.
"so," he said, settling beside you on the couch, much closer than you would have preferred. "howâs... housewifing?"
you stiffened. "itâs good. i like it."
"yeah? seems a little... boring for someone like you." he leaned back, his arm brushing yours. the contact made your skin prickle.
"itâs not boring,â°"you said, maybe a little too quickly. "i like taking care of things. taking care of san."
"san." he said the name slowly, like tasting it. "busy guy, huh?"
"he works hard," you defended automatically. "he provides for us."
"yeah, i bet." he turned his body fully towards you, knee touching yours. his gaze dropping to your hands, clasped tightly in your lap. "but does he... pleasure you?"
you looked at him in shock, offended. your cheeks flushed crimson, a wave of heat rushing through you. shock, outrage, and a deep, mortifying embarrassment tangled together. you stared at him, mouth agape, unable to form a single word. the flickering television, the stale air, his proximity, it all coalesced into a suffocating pressure. "what did you just say?"
he didnât flinch, didnât look away. his eyes held yours, unwavering. "i mean, youâre bright, y/n. youâre smart. youâve got this... spark. yet you spend your days fucking, polishing silverware and waiting for some suit to come home. does he ever even make you feel good?"
your heart hammered against your ribs. "i like polishing silverware. i like making a home."
"do you?" he reached out, his fingers tracing a pattern on your arm, just above your elbow. "or do you just tell yourself that because itâs what you think youâre supposed to do?"
you flinched, pulling your arm away. "i donât appreciate that, seonghwa."
"just being honest. thatâs what friends do, right?" he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.
the small, dusty clock on the wall pointed at four, you glanced at it, then at the door, wishing that your eyes could pierce a hole and reveal other people, anyone. yet no one else had arrived. the pit in your stomach deepened. "maybe i should call sally. or anna."
"nah, donât bother." he waved a dismissive hand. "they probably won't even come. you know how it is." he paused, a predatory glint appeared in his round eyes. "guess itâll be just us."
the words rang heavy and suffocating. it clicked. a cold, sickening realization washed over you. there was never "others." you had been tricked. the gifts, the polite goodbyes, all of it a naive delusion.
"oh." you stood up abruptly, the movement jarring. "i... i think i should go. maybe i should come back when the others arrive." your mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, anything to get out. you tried to infuse your voice with a calm you didnât feel, to make it sound like a reasonable suggestion, not a desperate plea.
"donât be stupid, y/n. you just got here." he stood and pulled you towards him. the close proximity of his body, the insufferable smell of weed making you almost gag. "youâre lonely, arenât you? i see it in your eyes. the way you just exist and he doesn't even notice."
"i donât know what you mean." your voice trembled.
"why? you donât want to admit it?" he leaned closer, breath warm against your ear. his insidious words pricked at the spots. the truth of them, despite the venomous delivery, stung. but the way he was using them, twisting them, made your skin crawl.
you tried to push past him, a surge of adrenaline making you bold. âlet me go.â
he grabbed your arm, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "no." he pulled you back, hard, sending you stumbling onto the couch. the gifts clattered to the floor. he pinned you there, his face inches from yours. "i know you donât love him. you're goddamn pathetic with him and everyone sees it."
you felt a surge of adrenaline, a pumping desperate need to escape. âyou donât know anything about me. or san.â you pulled harder, twisting your body, trying to create distance.
he didnât let go. instead, his other hand came up, resting on your arm, his thumb stroking your skin. "i know you don't love him. i know youâre unhappy." the accusation, so utterly false, ignited a furious spark within you. "why else would you keep coming back here?"
"youâre wrong!" sharp and venomous, your voice cut through the fear. "youâre completely wrong. i love san. i love him more than anything. and i would never, ever be unfaithful to him. especially not with... with someone like you!" the last words, raw and unfiltered, spilled from your lips. the thought of betraying san, of allowing this man to even suggest such a thing, filled you with a righteous anger.
a vein throbbed in his temple. for a terrifying moment, you thought he might strike you. his face contorted, a mask of rage. primal scream ripped through your mind, though no sound escaped your lips. a sudden, visceral revulsion surged through you, a raw, untamed force you hadnât known you possessed. you didnât think, you reacted. with a guttural cry that was more gasp than sound, you twisted your body, yanking your arm free from his grasp with a strength born of pure terror. you stumbled back, tripping over your own feet, but you caught yourself, your eyes wide, fixed on him.
"hey, y/n, calm down. let's talk-" his face a mask of something ugly. he took a step towards you, his hand still outstretched.
"donât you touch me!" you shrieked, the words finally tearing free holding a fierce conviction.
with a desperate lunge, you pushed past him and found the doorknob, fingers clumsy with terror and heart pounding against your ribs. please, please be unlocked. the knob turned protesting a squeal. a small miracle. you yanked it open, the weak sunlight blinding you for a moment.
you didnât look back. you ran. the gravel crunched under your shoes, the faded blue trailer shrinking behind you. you didnât stop until you reached your car, fumbling with the keys, your hands shaking so violently you could barely push the button. you threw yourself inside, locking the doors, lungs burning. the engine roared to life, and you sped away, leaving the trailer park, the sickly rose bush, and the terrifying encounter in a cloud of dust. the gifts lay forgotten on the floor of the trailer, naive hope, now shattered.
ŕ¨ŕ§
"i ran into someone today."
"at the market?"
"an old friend. from high school. apparently some of them still hang out and, i was invited."
"that's good, you should go."
"really? you don't mind?"
"why would i mind? it's good for you to see people, you're always here. you should get out more."
"i mean... i haven't seen them in years. since graduation, probably."
"people change, that's okay. it'll be nice to reconnect. you've been cooped up, it's good to have plans."
"i guess so."
knees drawn to your chest, the phone thrown to the cushion next to you. you had to call him, you really had to, and he did leave. cheeks damp, tiny ragged sobs caught in your throat, you barely registered when the door swung open. he stood at the doorway, crisp button down now slightly rumpled, his tie loosened. his eyes scanned the room, then landed on you. he didn't say anything, just kicked the door shut with his heel and moved towards you deliberately.
"san," you choked out a fragile whisper, "i'm so sorry. i'm so, so sorry i made you come home."
he didn't answer with words, simply sunk onto the couch beside you, the springs protesting faintly. his strong arms wrapped around your shaking shoulders, pulling you into his chest. the clean, subtle cedar scent of his cologne filled your senses, chasing away the lingering stench of smoke and fear. you buried your face in his shirt and let the dam break.
hot and stinging tears streamed down your face, soaking into his shirt. each sob tore through you, tearing sounds you hadn't realized you were holding back. his hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close. he didn't try to stop the tears, didn't offer empty platitudes. he just held you, a silent comforting presence.
"itâs okay," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear, "it's okay, y/n. i'm here."
fingers fisted in his shirt, the fabric stretching taut. the world outside the circle of his arms ceased to exist. there was only the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing. time stretched and blurred. you cried until your throat ached, until your eyes felt swollen and raw, until the tremors in your body slowly began to subside.
when the sobs dwindled to quiet sniffles, you pulled back slightly, your head still resting against his shoulder, your gaze fixed on the intricate weave of his shirt. a deep, shuddering breath hitched in your chest.
"i⌠i need to tell you something," you whispered.
he squeezed your shoulder gently. "take your time."
the silence stretched, heavy with unspoken things. you needed to say it, all of it. the truth, ugly and raw, demanded to be set free.
"i havenât been... i havenât been doing well, san," you began, your voice still hoarse. "not really. i mean, i love being home. i love our apartment, i love cooking for you, taking care of everything. i really do. but" you carefully searched for the right words, the words that wouldnât sound like an accusation. "it got... lonely. really lonely."
at his arm tightening around your waist, you glanced up at his face. his brow was furrowed, his eyes filled with a deep, quiet concern, but no judgment.
"i know you work hard," you continued, rushing the words out before you could lose your nerve. "i know you do it for us, for our future, and i appreciate it, san, i really do. sometimes, i just... i just want to talk. to someone. about anything. about my day, about a stupid show i watched, about a new recipe i found. just... to talk. and you're not there."
he didnât interrupt, just listened, his gaze steady on your face.
"and then⌠i met seonghwa again."
the name plastered, foreign and sharp. sanâs head tilted slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.
"seonghwa?" he repeated, the name unfamiliar on his tongue. "who is... i thought you said you were meeting anna? your old classmate?"
your heart sank at his innocence, at how you had let him assume with unclear conversations.
"no, anna is... seonghwaâs friend,â you explained, the words tumbling out. "sheâs part of his group. he was my classmate in high school. not a close one, but... yeah. heâs the one i ran into at the supermarket."
sanâs placid eyes held a hint of something unreadable. he still didnât speak, just waited.
"i didnât mean for any of it to happen," you confessed, your voice cracking again. "i just... i just wanted to be included. to feel like i was part of something. they seemed so... free. and easy. and i was so lonely." you paused, drawing a shaky breath, preparing for the hardest part. "at first it seemed harmless. they were just... different than me, something new. but then it escalated. the parties. the noise. the... the smoke.â you hesitated, then forced yourself to say it. "i... i smoked weed, san. once. i know, i know it was stupid. iâm so sorry."
tears welled up again and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for his reaction. but he still didnât say anything, just held you closer, so you continued and everything spilled. the memories flooding back, sharp and vivid. from the hazy afternoons to the girl, her unnatural stillness and anna's so, so young son yet already involved into such a chaotic world. your voice broke with the image behind eyelids. then today, at seonghwa's. reliving the terror, the helplessness, made you shiver with a torrent of fear and disgust and self reproach.
you dissolved into fresh sobs, the weight of the confession crushing you. you waited for anger, for disappointment, for the distance to grow between you even more. but instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer.
"y/n," he said, his voice deeper than usual, a quiet intensity in his tone. "look at me."
you reluctantly lifted your head, tear streaked face meeting his gaze. his eyes were now clouded with a raw pain that mirrored your own.
"you have nothing to be sorry for," he stated, his voice firm, unwavering. "not for feeling lonely. not for wanting connection. and not for trying to find it." he paused, his thumb stroking your cheek, wiping away a tear. "iâm the one who should be sorry. i let you feel that way. i let you feel so alone that you had to look for it somewhere else. i was so caught up in work, in making sure we had everything we needed, that i forgot to give you what you actually needed. me."
fresh tears pricking your eyes, you shook your head. "no, san. thatâs not fair. you work so hard. you provide everything. i should have just told you. i should have talked to you. i just... i didnât want to cause conflict. i didnât want to seem ungrateful."
"conflict is part of a relationship, y/n," he countered softly. "itâs how we grow. and you are never ungrateful. i know you. i just... i wasnât listening. i wasnât seeing. i was so focused on building a future, i forgot to live in the present. with you." his gaze was intense, full of regret. "i saw you, every morning, making the bed perfectly. i saw the dinners you planned. i saw the baked goods you made, and gave away. i thought... i thought you were happy. i thought that was just you, being you. i didnât realize it was... a symptom. i thought stability meant happiness. i thought if i provided for everything, you wouldnât have to worry. i thought that was how i showed you i loved you. but i forgot to show you i loved you with my time. with my presence. with my words."
"but i should have said something," you insisted, your voice still thick with guilt. "i let it fester. i bottled it up. i smoked weed behind your back. thatâs not okay, san. thatâs not okay."
"and itâs not okay that i left you feeling so emotionally neglected that you felt like you had to," he countered, his voice gentle but firm. "we both made mistakes, y/n. mine was in being absent. yours was in not speaking up. but none of that changes how much i still love you."
he pulled you back into his embrace, holding you tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head. you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear. a comforting, familiar rhythm.
"i love you, y/n," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "more than anything. and i am so, so sorry that you went through all of that. that you were scared. that you were hurt. that you felt alone. i promise you, you will never feel that way again. not with me."
you clung to him, tears still flowing, but these were different. these were tears of relief, of release, of a profound love finally understood. you felt the tension that had been coiled in your chest for months slowly unwind, dissolving into the warmth of his embrace.
"i love you too, san," you sobbed, the words muffled against his shirt. "i love you so much."
held for a long time, the only sounds the quiet sniffles, the soft rustle of clothes, the steady rhythm of two hearts beating in unison. the city outside grew darker, the streetlights casting long, pale shadows through the window. but inside, in the circle of his arms, a fragile light had begun to glow. it wasnât a solution, not yet. but it was a new beginning.
ŕ¨ŕ§
morning rays painted stripes across the duvet. you stirred, the warmth beside you a comforting anchor. sanâs arm, heavy and solid, rested across your waist. his breath, slow and even, feathered against your neck. you turned your head, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. the memory of yesterday, the raw vulnerability, the shared tears, a fragile precious thing.
quiet sigh escaping your lips, you stretched with a yawn. the bed felt different today, lighter, like a burden had lifted. you eased yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him, and padded into the kitchen. the choreography of making coffee began. the gentle hum of the machine, the rich aroma blooming in the air. you poured two mugs, placing sanâs on his bedside table before returning to your side of the bed, he still slept.
you traced the line of his jaw with your finger, the slight stubble rough beneath your touch. his eyelashes, thick and dark, rested against his skin. a small, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips.
"morning," his voice, deep and gravelly with sleep, startled you. his eyes slowly opened, finding yours.
"morning, sannie," you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his temple.
he stretched, his big arms flexing, the muscles taut beneath his skin. he reached for you, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder. "iâm not going to work today."
you blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. "what?"
"i said, iâm not going to work today," he repeated, his thumb stroking the skin of your arm. "or tomorrow. i took the weekend off."
a small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you. "you did not. you never take the weekend off. you have that big report due monday."
he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, his gaze steady. "i called lee at like 3 am. heâs covering. the report can wait. we canât."
your heart gave a small, hopeful flutter. the words, simple and direct, resonated deep within you. you reached up, cupping his cheek. his skin felt warm against your palm.
"really?" you asked thin with emotion.
he nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips, revealing the faint indentations of his dimples. "really."
the weight that had pressed down on your chest for so long began to ease, replaced by a lightness you hadnât felt in months. you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, a mix of sleep and his subtle leftover cologne.
"what are we going to do?" you murmured, the question laced with a hesitant joy.
he held you tighter. "whatever you want. show me your world, y/n."
a lump formed in your throat. you pulled back, a small, genuine smile blooming on your face. "okay," you breathed. "okay."
the morning unfolded slowly for once, no rush to get ready, no frantic dash for him to find a parking spot. you made a more elaborate breakfast than usual, eggs scrambled with herbs, crisp bacon, and slices of avocado. he watched you, perched on a stool at the kitchen island, his phone conspicuously absent. he simply watched, gaze attentive, as you moved with a quiet efficiency.
he ate with a quiet appreciation, savoring each bite. the silence between you was no longer heavy with unspoken words, but comfortable, filled with the soft clink of forks against plates, the distant chirping of birds.
after breakfast, you led him to the bedroom and demonstrated your bed making routine, movements precise and practiced. he watched, his head tilted, an expression mixed with amusement and curiosity.
the hours melted into a gentle rhythm. you showed him your small rituals. the way you organized the pantry, grouping spices by frequency of use. the careful sorting of laundry, whites, colors, delicates. the methodical scrubbing of the bathroom, each surface gleaming. he followed you, your silent observer, occasionally offering a helping hand.
you found yourself talking more than you had in months, explaining the logic behind your choices, the small satisfactions you found in these mundane tasks. he listened, truly listened, his eyes never leaving your face. it was no longer how are you? but why do you do this that way?
lunch was a rather simple affair, sandwiches and fruit, eaten at the kitchen counter. you found yourself telling him about a new recipe you wanted to try, a complicated japanese stew youâd been researching. he listened, asking questions about the ingredients, the cooking process. it felt like a real conversation, not just a series of perfunctory exchanges.
as dusk began to settle, casting a soft, blue hue through the apartment, you found yourselves in the living room. you moved the large, plush couch, pushing it closer to the wide window that overlooked the street below. the city lights began to twinkle a distant murmur from the streets.
you sat side by side, the comfortable silence settling around you once more. he reached out, his hand slowly finding your arm. his fingers traced a gentle path from your wrist to your elbow, a soft reassuring touch. you leaned your head against his shoulder, inhaling his scent, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.
the silence stretched, not empty, but full of unspoken emotions, of rediscovered intimacy. you watched the cars pass below, their headlights cutting through the growing darkness.
after a long while, he stirred. his hand tightened on your arm, then he slowly, gently, pulled you onto his lap. your legs tangled with his, your body molding against his hard frame. he shifted, adjusting you until you were nestled perfectly, your back against his chest. his lips found your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss, then moving to the delicate skin of your neck. a shiver ran through you, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips. he kissed the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and a soft giggle bubbled up from your chest.
"you okay? is this okay?" he murmured.
you nodded, your head resting against his shoulder. "more than okay."
he pulled back slightly, turning you so you faced him, his hands resting on your hips. his brown eyes held a tenderness that made your breath catch.
"y/n," he began, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "do you... do you ever think about kids?"
ŕ¨ŕ§
effortlessly, he laid you gently on the bed, following you down, his body a warm weight against yours. his lips found yours, soft at first, then deepening, hungry desperation underlying the tenderness. your mouth opened beneath his, inviting him in. his tongue tangled with yours, a slow, sensual dance, tasting of coffee and him.
"mine," he murmured against your mouth, pulling back just enough to whisper the word. "youâre mine, y/n. no one elseâs."
his hands, large and strong, moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly, deliberately, pulling it up and over your head. the cool air brushed against your skin for a moment before his hands were there, warm and firm, stroking your sides, your ribs, the soft skin of your belly.
you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your throat. you reached for his shirt, fingers trembling slightly. he helped, peeling the fabric from his broad shoulders, revealing the taut muscles of his chest before he reached around, touch gentle, unfastening the hook of your bra. the lace fell away, revealing your breasts, full and soft in the dim light. he stared, his gaze lingering and before you knew it, he leaned down, lips closing over one nipple, drawing it into his mouth. a jolt of pure pleasure shot through you. he sucked, softly at first, then harder, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. your breath hitched, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him closer. he moved to the other breast, suckling with equal fervor, his free hand stroking your side, making goosebumps rise on your skin.
"so beautiful," he breathed, pulling back to look at your flushed face. "so fucking beautiful."
rough with desire, igniting a fire deep within you. you reached for the button of his jeans, eager to shed the remaining barriers between you, pushing them down his hips, along with his boxers. his cock sprang free, already hard and engorged, glistening in the dim light. you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his heat, stroking the soft skin. he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.
"baby," he gasped, his voice strained. "god, y/n."
you continued to stroke him, feeling the pulse of his arousal against your palm. your own desire mounted, a burning ache between your legs. he reached for your shorts, pulling them down with your panties. the cool air kissed your bare skin, a fleeting sensation before his hand was there, warm and knowing, finding the wetness between your thighs.
his fingers parted your folds, gently, slowly, exploring the slickness, the delicate curves of your clit. you gasped, your hips arching instinctively. he dipped a finger inside you, then another, preparing you. you were already so wet, your body aching for him. a soft squelching sound accompanied his movements, a wet, intimate symphony.
"so wet," his voice husky, eyes never leaving yours. "for me."
he watched your face, gauging your reactions, thumb circling your clit, drawing out whimpers and soft cries from deep within your throat. you writhed beneath his touch, your body trembling, on the precipice of release.
"please," you pleaded, your voice hoarse. "san, please."
he shifted, kneeling between your legs. his heavy cock, slick with your wetness, brushed against your opening. you gasped, a desperate sound. he hesitated, looking into your eyes, a possessive fire burning in his gaze.
"say..." he whispered, slightly overwhelmed already. "say youâre mine."
"yours," you choked out, tears stinging your eyes, a heady mix of pleasure and raw emotion. "iâm yours, san. only yours."
he entered you then, slowly, pushing past the soft resistance, filling you completely. a deep groan rumbled in his chest as he buried himself within you. you cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. he paused, letting you adjust, letting your body stretch and encompass him. the feeling was overwhelming, profound sense of fullness, of belonging.
he began to move, slow, deliberate rhythm at first, his hips rocking against yours. the friction was exquisite, the sound of your bodies joining, a wet, rhythmic shlicking. he pulled back almost completely, then drove back in, deep and hard, a sigh escaping his lips. your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.
"mine," he repeated, each thrust punctuated by the word. "no one will ever... have you like this, only me."
the pace quickened, becoming more urgent, more primal. he pounded into you, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your core. your nails dug into his back, leaving faint red marks on his tanned skin. your hips rose to meet his, matching his rhythm, your bodies a blur of motion in the dim light. the bed creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion.
he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering yours, tasting your desire, your cries muffled against his lips. your climax built, a tight coil in your belly, spreading outwards, consuming you. you bucked against him, your body convulsing around his cock. a guttural cry tore from your throat as you shattered, waves of pure bliss washing over you.
the thrusts got deeper, harder, his own climax building quickly on the heels of yours. groans and bodies tensing, hips slamming into yours one last time as he emptied himself deep inside you. his hot cum flooded you, warm thick rush that made you gasp.
collapsed and slick with sweat, your legs were still wrapped around him, intimately entwined. he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
"mine," he whispered the promise again. "forever."
fingers tangling in his damp hair, you held him close. the noise outside, the loneliness, the fear, all faded away, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him, of this rediscovered connection. you felt utterly safe, utterly loved, utterly his.
he shifted, pulling back slightly, propping himself on his elbows, his eyes soft, heavy lidded. he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, a tender exploration.
"i love you, y/n."
the words, so rarely spoken, so deeply felt, resonated through you. a fresh wave of tears pricked your eyes, but these were tears of joy, of relief, of a profound sense of peace.
"i love you too, san," you whispered back. "more than anything."
a new chapter had begun. a chapter filled with soft reassurances, intentional conversations, and a love that, though tested, had found it's way back home. the question of children lingered, a new seed planted in the fertile ground of your renewed intimacy, a promise of a future you could now, finally, envision together.
each day a thread re-stitched into the fabric of your life together. no longer a frayed edge, but a strengthening seam. the silence shedding it's heavy cloak of unspoken expectation. now, it held the hum of shared understanding, a quiet comfort that didn't demand filling. some days you still spent less time together than you'd wanted, yet, even then, the goodbye no longer felt like a hurried escape.
you learned to speak your needs, not with the tremor of a plea, but with the steady beat of a declaration. he listened, brow furrowing in concentration, his eyes soft with an empathy heâd struggled to articulate before. you saw the effort, the conscious wrestling with words that didnât come easily to him. it was a language you were both learning, halting at first, then gaining fluency with each shared vulnerability. heâd ask about your day, not as a formality, but with genuine curiosity, sometimes even calling during his lunch break, a rare occurrence that made your heart do a little skip. love rediscovered, a future being built, one honest word, one tender touch, at a time.
your phone still buzzed with notifications from instagram. you scrolled past annaâs stories, a flurry of candid shots from her sonâs fifth birthday party. a lopsided cake, sticky fingers, a wide, gap toothed grin. you tapped the little heart icon, then saw sallyâs latest transformation, her hair now a vibrant neon green. sheâd posted a picture of a sizzling pan, tagged with a question about your secret to perfectly crisp tofu. you sent back a detailed message, outlining marinades and pan temperatures, a smile touching your lips. you knew, and they knew, that the physical space between your worlds had widened, perhaps irrevocably. there was no expectation of meeting up, no casual invitations to late night gigs. seonghwaâs shadow still stretched too long, too dark, across that part of your memory. the thought of stepping back into that haze, even for a moment, made your stomach clench. you had found your way back to the light, and you were fiercely protective of it.
this morning, however, began with no alarms. skin to skin, a perfect fit. he had begged for five more minutes and how could you say no when his mouth was already moving in between your thighs? lazy swipes, you felt your muscles tense slightly, then relax, his hand finding your hip, drawing you closer, before moving your legs over his shoulders. his tongue stroked the soft skin of your pussy, a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
time dissolved. the soft rustle of sheets, the faint thumping of your heart against his. the world outside your bedroom, outside this intimate cocoon, ceased to exist. you were just two bodies, intertwined, rediscovering a forgotten language.
when your third orgasm of that morning alone hit, you pulled your head back, accidentally looking at the clock and freezing, a gasp escaping your lips. he pulled back slightly, his eyes still clouded with passion, then clearing with the dawning realization. a groan, this one of frustration, escaped him.
"shit, shit, shit," you cursed under your breath. "oh, san. you're going to be late."
a deep sigh, rueful sound laced with disappointment escaped him. you pushed yourself up, pulling the sheet with you, a sudden chill striking your skin. he ran a hand through his hair, dishevelled from sleep and your shared passion. "i know." he sat up, stretching, his muscles rippling, a sight that still made your breath catch. he threw his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet falling away, revealing the strong lines of his back, the curve of his shoulders and his half erect dick.
"go, go," you urged, though a part of you wanted to pull him back, to steal a few more precious minutes. you threw off the covers, padding naked to the closet, already mentally planning his lunch.
he glanced back, a wry smile on his face. "youâre not exactly helping." his eyes lingered on your retreating figure, a spark of lingering desire in them.
"iâm making your lunch. thatâs helping." you laughed shyly, a clear sound before pulling out a crisp white shirt, a dark tie, laying them out on the bed for him.
when the sound of the shower starting grounded you, you moved with purpose, opening the fridge, pulling out containers. yesterdayâs leftover bulgogi, a side of kimchi, some fresh fruit. you packed it all neatly into his bento box, arranging the colours, making it appealing.
now dressed in his dark suit trousers, he emerged from the bathroom, his shirt still unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest. his hair was damp, slicked back, making him look even more handsome, more put together. he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his solid frame. chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.
"i love you," he murmured, the words no longer feeling forced, but a natural outflow.
you leaned into him, closing your eyes for a moment. "i love you too," you replied, your voice thick with emotion.
he squeezed you gently, then released you, picking up his jacket. you followed him to the doorframe, a familiar ritual, but one that now held a deeper significance. he turned, his eyes searching yours, then he leaned down, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss. it was a kiss that spoke of hurried passion, of regret for lost time, and of promises for the future. his hand found your butt, giving it an extra, firm squeeze, a playful, intimate gesture that made you giggle.
"sannie, you have to go." you laughed against his lips.
"i know, just let me-"
he pulled you back in, tongues dancing against each other as he opened the door.
"you gotta... go... leave..." despite your protests, you were leaning into the kisses as well.
finally, when he pulled back, a wide grin appeared on his face, those dimples on full display. "i left something for you on the counter." his eyes twinkled.
your eyebrows rose in surprise. "oh?"
he just winked, then stepped out into the hallway. "have a good day," he called over his shoulder, already halfway down the corridor.
"you too." you watched him go with a warmth spreading through you, chasing away the morning chill. your cheeks burned pleasant blush. you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, the echo of his kiss still on your lips.
a curious smile played on your lips. you turned, walking back into the kitchen, your eyes scanning the clean, uncluttered surface. amidst the neatly stacked mail and the fruit bowl, an envelope lay, pristine white, tucked beside the coffee maker.
your heart gave a little flutter. you picked it up, fingers tracing the simple, elegant script of your name. you recognized his handwriting, though it was slightly more rushed than usual, a testament to his morning scramble. you glanced back at the lace box that sat on your dresser. finally, a new companion piece awaited. you carefully tore open the seal, your breath held in anticipation.
you pulled out a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. it wasnât a thick expensive stationery, but a page torn from a small, spiral bound notebook, perhaps one he kept for jotting down notes at work. the paper felt thin, slightly rough urough under your fingertips. the words were penned in his familiar, slightly cramped hand, some of them a little smudged, as if heâd written it quickly, probably during a stolen moment on his break.
you began to read, a soft smile blooming on your face.
my y/n:
you know how i am with words, they get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth. itâs frustrating. for both of us, i know. i think about that first letter i wrote you. it was bad. really bad. i cringed just thinking about it. but i tried, i guess, even if it doesnât look like it. these past few weeks... theyâve been good, better. i hope it's the same for you. seeing you smile again, truly smile, itâs like the sun coming out after a long winter. i never want that winter to come back. i never want you to feel that coldness again. i was so blind. so stupid. i thought providing was enough but i was wrong. you taught me that. you always teach me things, even when you donât mean to. i want to be better. for us. for you. i want to learn how to say these things out loud, not just write them down when no oneâs looking. iâm sorry for the pain i caused. iâm sorry i let you feel alone. i promise to keep trying. to keep learning. to keep loving you, in all the ways you deserve. you are my home, y/n, my everything, my wife, and i will never ever let another man think they got a mere chance with you, never again. you're mine and i'm yours.
omgâŚ.this was like a huge emotional rollercoaster and i loved every single second of it. the readerâs feelings and emotions were conveyed so nicely, everything was just written beautifully đĽš
and when san asked the special question in that living room scene by the window âŚ. i promise i think i actually shed a tear or two. this was perfect!!
Summary: collared and leashed up, Colin finds himself under your dominant control, submitting himself as your fucktoy for the night. Buuuut, there may or may not be a fun little plot twist at the end :)
Wordcount: 2k
Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, BDSM, collar and leash, slight choking, orgasm denial, degradation, use of âmaâamâ, dumbification (I think??), Colin being the dork he is
A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble originally but I kept adding on and on, so itâs kinda all over the place and rly choppy??? Idk Iâm tired of editing it so whatever
âMm⌠hah-⌠please⌠faster m-maâamâŚâ
Lewd moans, mingled with a chorus of whispered cusses managed to escape Colinâs breathless body, heart thudding in his chest with a suffocating anticipation.
His throat constricted, struggling to draw in even the slightest gasp of air, hindered further by the snug collar encircling his neck - a bright Barbie pink one, adorned with glitter too for whatever reason that he did not question.
And there you were, holding the leash firmly in your hand, owning him like the willing little fucktoy he was in that moment.
A tingling buzz reverberated in his ears as you rode his cock perfectly, his tip kissing the spongey spot inside of you with each slippery stroke, effortlessly sliding into your cunt like warm, melted butter. It was seamless - each motion melding into the next, polished to a fine sheen. He never recalled sex ever feeling this good, a bit too good in fact, that it was almost unreal.
Colin's body trembled, his knees threatening to give way as a powerful shockwave of quivers surged through his muscles. His dick twitched inside of you, sensitivity reaching a new height as his every nerve tingled with sizzling anticipation. âOh god, oh god!-â he rasped, each breath a heaving groan.
His hands, desperately splayed across your back, leaving a trail of crescent-shaped imprints on your flushed skin, evidence of his fervent grip. With each of your movements, his hips met yours, matching your relentless rhythm. âMmf- fuck, I think Iâm gonnaâŚâ he teetered off into another hoarse gasp, leaving his lips parted. ââŚShit, canât h-hold it in any longer, âm gonna cum!â
âOh baby,â you breathed, your finger tracing the outline of his jaw. As his impending orgasm loomed closer, you purposely slowed your movements, every inch of him pulsating against your tight walls.
Then, without warning, you took control, yanking the leash with a firm tug until he was face to face with you. Your eyes, dark and playful, held fast to his own round, alarmed ones. âWhere are your manners? I donât recall granting you permission to finish, did I?â You cooed in mock reproach, gaze fluttering across the contours of his face, made striking by a sheen of sweat and that edge of desperation that clung to him like a second skin.
âUhm⌠IâŚâ Colin mumbled between heavy panting. His mind was adrift, distracted by the heady cocktail of sensations that rendered him blissfully dazed.
At his lack of response, you gave the leash another harsh tug, jolting him back to focus with a startled yelp. âI said,â you repeated, voice laced with a steely edge. âdid I give you permission to cum? Colin.â Each syllable enunciated sternly, as if giving orders to a disobedient pup.
Wide-eyed, Colin stared at you with a strange blend of terror and a whole lot of arousal, practically fucked stupid. âYes- I mean no- no you didnât! I uh-â he gulped, throat bobbing as he struggled to find the right words, the collar constricting his neck only adding to his unease.
âI apologize,â he finally managed to utter out. âCan I⌠may I cum, maâam?âŚâ His voice cracked, and his legs quivered under the weight of his desire, a battle waged within to contain himself from jack-hammering into you like a wild animal in heat.
With a flickering smile, you leaned closer, draping your voice in an intimate rumble to tease him further. âUh-uh, nope,â you replied, still rolling your hips at a torturously slow speed, the thickness of his cock's veins gently massaging your fleshy insides. âI wanna hear you beg for it, like a good boy.â
Bewilderment and eagerness dawned across Colin's face, his unblinking eyes reflecting a hint of flustered excitement. "Go on," you urged, punctuating your words with an exaggerated mewl of pleasure, almost as if you were starring in a cheesy porno. "Beg for me, beg for me to let you cum so you can have that sweet relief you crave so so desperately.â
A blush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks cherry red. ââŚP-Please maâam,â he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. âPlease let me cumâŚâ The neediness in his tone was unmistakable, a raw plea that seemed to have ignited an almost sickening glimmer of excitement to stir within your features.
âHuh? What was that?â You giggled kittenishly.
âSpeak up, I wanna hear that pretty voice of yours begging for me.â You picked your rhythm back up, each vigorous thrust urging his words to the surface. In response, his hips jerked upwards, nearly causing you to bounce on his dick like a pornstar possessed.
âI-I said please!â Colin moaned out, focusing his resolve behind squeezed eyelids as he clings to restraint, awaiting that delicious green light with bated breath. âPretty please? âm gonna b-burst here.â He sputtered, bordering on a pathetic whimper of plea, most likely receiving the worst case of blue balls in his life.
A slow, wicked smile spread across your face, savoring the sound of his submission. âMm thatâs what I like to hear, such a good boy. So desperate and whiny for meâŚâ you hummed softly in delight, reveling in the sight of Colin writhing pitifully beneath you.
With a swift, commanding motion, you rode him harder, you pulled your hips down as you buried his cock balls-deep into your weeping heat, your slickness embracing his length with an irresistible spongey grip. Instinctively, Colinâs own hips strained upwards once more, attempting to match your movements, but his mind was an absolute dizzying tangle of horniness and horniness alone to keep up.
âY-Yes⌠jusâ please donât stop⌠you feel so fuckinâ good, holy shit-â a groan bounced out from his throat, momentarily choking on his own words. âGod, youâre so soft, b-but tight! But also reaaaally crazy soft, like- like what is happening?â He chuckled breathlessly, before blurting out the worst choice of words possible.
"Hah- it feels like I'm having sex with a cloud..."
Quickly, his jabbering came to a screeching halt as he realized the absurdity of his comparison - he probably shouldnât tell the person heâs having sex with that they feel like âcondensed water vaporâ of all things.
âOhmygod- that came out wrong,â he rushed to backtrack for the life of him, his words stumbling over one another. âI-I donât know why I said that. Jusâ for the record, you feel like a perfectly normal beautiful woman, definitely NOT a cloud. Sorry, did I turn you off there or?âŚ.â
Exasperation pulled your lips into a tight, grim line, a loud sigh escaped you as Colin's rambling continued, his words blending into a flustered flurry that you chose to tune out.
When he paused to take a breath, you interjected with a sharpness that cut through the air. âDo me a favor and shut it,â you commanded, emphasizing your words with a forceful grind of your pelvis. The sensation of his thick length stretching and filling your tightness loosed trails of shivers to race along his skin, briefly distracting him from his own incessant chatter.
Colin, catching onto your unspoken demand, mirrored your actions with a reflexive shudder of his body. A quick nod, filled with frenzied energy, served as an agreement to keep his mouth shut for good.
âS-Sorry⌠yâever just⌠hah-⌠word-vomit nonsense first thing?⌠actually⌠jusâ ignore meâŚâ his sentence dissolved into a breathless whimper, his focus reclaiming the brink of climax, where pleasure threatened to consume him once again.
Your icy visage cracked, revealing a hint of amusement playing on your lips as you tutted at him. "It's alright, baby," you murmured, a touch of patronizing affection coloring your voice. "Just keep being my pretty little plaything, okay?" With the back of your hand, you gently caressed his cheek, offering him a fleeting trace of your touch.
ââŚYes maâam,â Colin sighed softly, oblivious to the implications and unconcerned about being referred to as a mere 'playthingâ. Right now, his pride took a backseat, dignity completely thrown out the window.
Curiously, his gaze wandered downwards, fixating on your perky breasts, helplessly spellbound by the way your tits bounced right above his face with each collision of your bodies, lips curled up ever so slightly in burgeoning grin of delight. As shameless as it was, what man doesnât have his vices? Colin certainly does, thatâs for sure.
âColin, babyâŚâ a muted moan of bliss broke from your lips, head lolled back as you rocked your body faster, thighs flexing and relaxing in turn. ââŚI want you to do something for meâŚâ Your sultry whisper snared Colin's attention once more as his admiring stare traveled from your chest to linger on your features, brown doe eyes gleaming with fervor.
âA-Ah⌠yes?⌠what i-is it?âŚâ Each word from Colin came out more ragged than the last, matching the fiery intensity building low between his thighs.
Gaze softening, a rosy glow overspread your face, betraying the growing tension winding within the depths of your loins, ready for release ââŚI want you t-to be a good boy and fill me up real good. Fill me till Iâm all nice, warm, and full,â The words slipped from your tongue like liquid velvet, every phrase gliding past in a way that enthralled Colin completely, his pupils darkening over your moving form with undisguised longing.
âCan you do that for me Col?â you asked tenderly, the hold on the leash tightening, the collar exerting its grip, pressing firmly against his ruddied skin - though blunt in deed, your words still rang a syrupy sweetness.
Yet, instead of diminishing, the impact fanned Colinâs excitement into a rising tide. A blissful balm bled through his being, loosening every taut limb into rapture. âYes!⌠fuck⌠Mm.. god,â he panted incoherently, his back arching slightly off the bed as he bottomed out inside you with increased vigor, his red swollen tip continuously bumping deep into you, practically shattering your cervix (or so he thought)
âI wanna f-fill you up so bad⌠wanna be a good boy for youâŚâ he babbled uncontrollably, mouth moving on its own as a string of nonsense tumbled out in a disjointed rhythm - another word-vomit heâd rather be caught dead than ever spew in any other scenario.
However in the end, none of it weighed on him much, for when you felt so warm and tight around him, ready to milk him dry as things were reaching to an all-consuming climaxâŚ
And finallyâŚ
Fate decided to deliver a massively rude interruption and pull its trademark cock-blocking move.
BEEP-BEEP
An alarm brazenly blared, and almost immediately, slivers of Colinâs consciousness snapped back to reality. Disoriented, he blinked in the gray dawn light, peering about in confusion as he found only rumpled sheets, where moments before had⌠you, on top (and of course, the unforgettable sparkly hot pink collar and leash)
In a moment of trepidation, his hand blindly reached for connection as it dipped into his boxers, only for his fingertips to feel something quite... sticky. Well⌠this is a new low - cumming in his sleep from a dream where you topped and dominated him? Good one Colin, good one.
At the same time, as much as he tried to downplay the dream's "appeal," his libido had little choice but to take notice that it piqued his interests in a way a dreary month of monastic masturbation never could.
Yeah heâd carry this to his grave. In fact, this dream was hitting the coffin six feet under and hopefully deeper. This was staying strictly on a need-to-know basis, and no one but him needed to know, especially NOT you.
However⌠despite the reluctance to admit, the last hazy remnants of the dream clung to his fading sleep, awaking him with a lingering warmth that refused to fully release its hold. So perhaps, continuing where he left off wouldnât hurt⌠right?
âJusâ a little longer..." he sighed wistfully, eyes fluttering shut once more, hoping to slip back into his dream about you (and perhaps into you). But reality began to intrude as embarrassment set in. "Woah-ho-ho, wait-" Colin jerked upright as if struck, vigorously shaking his head in an effort to banish such thoughts. "Nope. Nopety-nope, not going there. Get a grip Colin, get a grip." he mentally scolded himself.
With flushed cheeks, Colin scrambled out of bed - best not to linger on fanciful sex dreams and instead focus on changing out of his sweaty cum-stained boxers.
-------â-------
SORRY IF THE PLOT TWIST IS RLY SILLY LMAOOO. I want to clarify that this was not a last minute idea, because reading it now⌠it really looked like I decided to throw it in there randomly-
The fic was supposed to be shorter and more âfuzzyâ, like an actual dreamlike atmosphere, but then I went overboard with the details which is kinda dumb, cuz who has this much sensory experience in a dream bro đđ
đ¤ taglist (probs will be writing an older!grumpy neighbor!Kit smut next, lemme know if u wanna be tagged!): @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @evanpetersbf @nickrhodeslittledarling @babydollxxblood
To all my readers and friends who I am about to disappoint with this message, I want to say sorry for everything I'm about to leave behind as you read this. It's sudden, and rushed and I can't help but feel terrible that I'm putting forth this message without warning knowing that I could have handled this better if I knew I was going to choose to do this in the end anyway. Whether it's a rash decision on my end that I'll regret later or not, I don't think I could have delayed this any longer because I've breached too far past my tipping point and I don't see myself carrying on this blog any further.
So in short, I'll be leaving tyunningism behind as an archive. There's a group project that I'm working on which I will leave behind with those involved, and I only wish the best for them on top of my apologies for being incompetent with something we've been working on for months. I'll also be linking any unfinished and unpolished works for any readers to flick through, and just to warn you all; there's nothing that's outwardly amazing or worthy for my last post on tumblr ever, so I'm sorry to disappoint you all on that too.
In full detail, I don't know if anything that I do talk about next will appease anyone but I need to see it through that I leave this chapter behind. I love this blog to death, and that's part of why I delayed this message for so long. I didn't talk to anyone about my plans on leaving this blog because I wanted to hold onto one of the last things I do enjoy doing. Which is cowardly on my behalf now that I look back on what this will affect.
I opened Tyunningism in March because I knew I wanted to pursue writing for the sake of having fun, and being able to bond over my favourite groups in a community where I'd be able to share all my human feelings and desires with others that felt the same. And when I posted my first three fics around June, I didn't know what to expect or how to react to the support that I did receive. And I want to thank everyone who did leave behind something that kept me writing for a year. Comments, reblogs, asks. I still hold dear onto my first few friends and mutuals that I made through out starting tyunningism, and for that reason I do still want to stay in contact with my four leaf clovers, and they'll know where to find me.
I've met so many people over the year and before I knew it, I would be checking in day-to-day with them and sharing every single detail of my life and every inconvenience, and I couldn't be more grateful for everyone who I've shared a word with. The opportunities that tumblr has granted me are unforgettable, and I'd be crazy to say I ever regretted starting this blog.
Now as for why I'm choosing to leave; it's an amalgamation of things that have toiled me throughout the year. All long overdue to be discussed, and it'd be unfair on myself to allow for my mental health to continue to degrade because of these troubles.
Around the September mark of last year, I started receiving multiple hate asks either related to my writing or myself as a person. And the first thing that does come to mind is to block. I'm an adult who knows better than to let malicious comments with no origin except wanting to trigger a reaction get to my head. But I did bring up a few with friends, I did respond to some that were general concerns, whether it was AI usage or ones I found funny. And it was manageable for me at first because wherever you go on the internet, it's bound to have people with the worst intentions. Yet since then I've received multiple hate asks, ones where I can't block out entirely because they're stemming from multiple anon blogs, and particularly around february-march, I would receive a hate anon from a new blog almost every two-three days. This wasn't a problem for me originally. I didn't see the need in invoking anything or bringing it to anyone's attention because giving hate anons attention is the last thing I wanted to do. But when I had my private socials leaked onto 18+ NSFW servers (the second time), in which had my tumblr linked, I tried to brush it off as issue that didn't stem from tumblr. Private info can be leaked from anywhere, and at the time I wanted to believe that my tumblr just happened to have been found along with it as the hate anons started to die out around then. I've had my instagram on private ever since then, paid no more attention to it other than the possibility that it could have been a reverse image search, and I didn't expect to have shot myself in the foot by doing so.
Images of myself including family photos were shared across multiple NSFW servers, one of which I discovered yesterday when my main tiktok account received dm requests stemming from an ageplay server which I had to scramble through multiple channels to try find the original poster to try have my photos removed. When I did end up finding the original photos after messaging the server mod, I received a response back a couple hours ago today on discord, linking me to the original message in which I found that my photos were spread by beomsbeloved on discord. Someone I shared a server with but didn't interact with much, and didn't have any tumblr linked to their account but claimed to have read my works before. I'll be sending a message accordingly to the server owner, and I ask that anyone who is friends with them on discord currently if they could please block and report the account because I find it sickening that someone who's told me they've actively read and enjoyed my works had the heart in them to leak my photos including ones with my cousins who are MINORS to strangers in an NSFW server where deepfakes and CSAM can be curated by anyone.
I started tyunningism because I found genuine connection and kindness within readers and mutuals, and I don't know how to come to terms with the fact that continuing this blog will likely only become a breeding ground for that person, or multiple people to continue to put my personal life in line with danger. And it's only today upon receiving that confirmation it was someone off tumblr did I make the decision to leave this blog behind for good.
I'm not the strongest person mentally. Over the year I've continued to have been harassed by girls I've known since I was in secondary school and sixth form. I struggle with facial dysmorphia to an extent I can't put into words and hearing that even now, when we're pursuing careers and working towards degrees, I'm still being bullied over my appearance 5 years later, I've fallen out of touch with a lot of things. Especially over this year, I've isolated myself and stressed myself out far too much to be focused on writing. I don't have enough motivation in me to write anything worthy of posting because I'll sit down to write and focus too much on everything I'm struggling with at the moment when writing, for me, used to be an escape from that.
So I'd like to say that I've achieved the vision I had for tyunningism, I'd like to say thank you for the 2k follower milestone we hit last week that I couldn't celebrate because my 1k event still hasn't been written. And I'd like to thank you all for all the kindness I received and took for granted while running this blog.
I'm choosing to focus on my degree now, look into professional work and settle into my own skin, and hopefully still be able to start humanitarian work sometime soon <3 Focusing on things I enjoy, spending time with myself and a net of people I can confide in, and being able to mend over this rough patch on my own.
There's no guarantee I will be returning to tumblr, at least not under the tyunningism name. And once again, I'm sorry for all those I'll inconvenience by urging this message so hastily.
predictable as always, the moment you say something about his sisters, they immediately try to drag kai down
and there it is. exactly what i've been saying this whole time. the moment someone points out that kai's sisters only got famous because of him, the response is never to defend them on their own merits. it's always to tear him down.
"kai wouldn't be successful without his members." "he's the least popular member." "his fancam views are low." "his solo songs aren't performing well." "his variety shows don't measure up."
see the pattern? instead of proving that his sisters are talented on their own, they immediately pivot to downplaying him. because deep down, they know they can't defend the sisters' lack of talent. so they try to drag kai down to their level.
but here's the thing, even if everything they said about kai was true, it still wouldn't make his sisters more talented. it wouldn't change the fact that lea's old nugu group flopped even the new tiktok group too. it wouldn't change that bahiyyih ranked 26th out of 33 korean trainees and only debuted because of nepotism. dragging kai doesn't lift his sisters up. it just proves that you have nothing else to say.
and the irony? kai being the "least popular" in txt still puts him miles ahead of his sisters in terms of talent, recognition, and success. his "lowest" is still higher than their peak, even tho he's not the least popular anymore, i mean he is above taehyun now.
so go ahead. downplay him. mock his fancam views. call him unpopular. it doesn't change the fact that without him, nobody would know his sisters' names.
kai earned his spot. his sisters were handed theirs and no amount of dragging him will ever make that equal đ
⥠choi yeonjun has never had to work for attentionâuntil you. You donât flirt back. You donât swoon. You donât even seem impressed. And that single fact ruins him in the best way possible. What starts as a game to win your attention slowly becomes the first time heâs ever been genuinely obsessed.
â genres: popular flirt x unimpressed reader | slow burn attachment | casual to emotional sex | âwhy donât you like meâ | hidden vulnerability | jealousy | touch-starved | performance vs reality | campus romance | messy yearning | soft-to-possessive yeonjun
â warnings: explicit nsfw (MDNI), heavy smut scenes, casual sex turning intimate, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, teasing/edging, slight choking, marking/hickeys, praise + light degradation, possessive talk, semi-public risk, multiple orgasms, cum play, emotional hurt/comfort, yeonjun having a slight breakdown during sex
â playlist: attention - newjeans | fever - enhypen | can't we just leave the monster alive? - txt | next mistake - boynextdoor | but i like you - boynextdoor | last call - p1harmony
The student media room smelled like stale coffee and warm plastic from the overheating laptops. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder and waited by the door while the previous interviewer finished up. She was a pretty journalism major with flushed cheeks and a breathless laugh, leaning way too close to the table as she asked her final question.
Choi Yeonjun, of course, was in full performance mode.
He flashed that devastating smileâthe one that made half the campus weakâand tilted his head just slightly, eyes locked on her like she was the only person in the room. âYou should come to the showcase,â he said, voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that felt like a secret. âIâll save you the best seat. Front row. You can watch me up close.â
She giggled. Actually giggled.
You fought the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might fall out of your head.
When she finally packed up and left, still blushing, you walked over and dropped into the chair across from him. Yeonjunâs gaze shifted to you, that practiced charm immediately sliding back into place. He leaned forward on his elbows, chin resting on one hand, and gave you the same lingering look heâd just given her.
âHi,â he drawled, lips curving. âYouâre the last one today? Lucky me.â
You clicked your recorder on and set it in the middle of the table without ceremony.
âCan you stop flirting with people for five minutes so I can finish this assignment?â you asked flatly, eyes already on your question sheet.
Silence.
The entire room seemed to freeze. The two media staff members lingering by the door stared. Yeonjun blinked once, twice, like his brain had short-circuited. Then he let out a surprised laugh, bright and genuine, leaning back in his chair.
âWow. Okay. Straight to the point,â he said, still grinning, but there was a spark of something sharper in his eyes now. Curiosity. âMost people donât usually complain about the flirting part.â
You didnât smile back. You just looked up at him calmly. âMost people arenât trying to meet a deadline. Can we start?â
For a second he just stared at you, like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. When you raised an eyebrow expectantly, he finally nodded, though the amused smirk never fully left his face.
âAlright, alright. Hit me with it.â
You ran through the standard questions about the upcoming dance showcaseârehearsal schedule, concept, his role as main choreographer. Yeonjun answered easily, confidently, the way someone who had done this a hundred times would. But he couldnât seem to help himself. Every few answers he tried to slip back into flirt mode.
âYou know,â he said after explaining the final piece, âif you come watch rehearsal sometime, I could show you the choreo personally. Private lesson. Iâm a very⌠hands-on teacher.â
You didnât even look up from your notes. âThat wonât be necessary. Next questionâhow do you balance practice with your academics?â
Yeonjunâs smile faltered for half a second. He recovered quickly, chuckling under his breath, but you caught the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the table. He kept tryingâcomplimenting the way you took notes, asking if you were always this serious, teasing that your voice was too pretty to sound so bored.
You remained completely unfazed, firing back professional follow-ups without missing a beat.
By the time you wrapped up the interview, Yeonjun was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, openly staring at you with an unreadable expression. The usual cocky sparkle in his eyes had shifted into something deeper. Almost like heâd been thrown off-balance and couldnât quite find his footing again.
You clicked the recorder off and stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
âThanks,â you said simply. âGood luck with the showcase.â
You were already halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.
âHey.â
You turned. Yeonjun was still seated, but his gaze was locked on you with an intensity that made the air feel thicker.
âYou really donât like me at all, huh?â He asked it with a crooked smile, but there was a genuine note of bewilderment underneath.
You shrugged. âI donât know you. And I donât need to flirt with you to do my job.â
With that, you left the room.
Behind you, Choi Yeonjun stayed sitting in his chair for a long moment, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, a slow, dangerous little smile spreading across his face.
For the first time in a long time, someone had looked right through all his charm and hadnât blinked.
And fuck⌠he was already hooked.
-----
The next time you saw Choi Yeonjun, he was already waiting for you.
You had barely stepped out of your afternoon lecture hall when he appeared beside you like magic, matching your pace with that infuriatingly confident stride. A black hoodie hung loosely over his frame, hair slightly messy from dance practice, and yet he still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover.
âMissed me?â he asked, leaning in close enough that you could smell his cologneâsomething warm and expensive that made your stomach do a tiny, traitorous flip before you shut it down.
You didnât even break stride. âNot even a little.â
Yeonjun clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling a few steps like youâd shot him. âOuch. You really know how to hurt a guy. Iâve been thinking about you all day, you know.â
âCongratulations,â you replied dryly, adjusting your bag. âThat sounds like a personal problem.â
He laughed, loud and bright, drawing a few curious glances from people walking past. But instead of backing off, he only seemed more determined. The next day he showed up in the library, sliding into the seat across from you without invitation and immediately stealing the pen out of your hand mid-sentence.
âHeyââ you started, reaching for it.
âShh. Iâm helping,â he grinned, twirling your pen between his long fingers. âYouâve been writing notes for three hours straight. Your hand deserves a break. Also, your handwriting is cute when youâre focused.â
You stared at him. âGive it back.â
âMake me.â
You snatched it from his fingers in one swift motion. He poutedâactually poutedâand then proceeded to flop half his upper body across your desk, cheek resting on your open notebook.
âYouâre so mean to me,â he mumbled, voice muffled against the paper. âIâm literally dying for your attention and you treat me like a mosquito.â
You pushed his head off your notes gently but firmly. âMosquitoes are annoying. Accurate comparison.â
He gasped, sitting up with wide, offended eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. âWow. Iâm going to need emotional compensation for that one. Coffee? My treat. Or dinner. Or let me take you out after practice tomorrowââ
âNo.â
âBrutal,â he whispered, clutching his heart again. But he didnât leave. Instead, he stayed there for the next hour, occasionally stealing your highlighter or doodling stupid little hearts with your name in the margins of your spare paper when you werenât looking.
Over the following week, it became a pattern.
He started texting you random memes at 2 a.m. with captions like âthis is you rejecting me again đâ or âtell me iâm pretty or iâll cry.â You left most of them on read. He began âaccidentallyâ showing up wherever you wereâoutside your lecture building right as class ended, at the campus cafĂŠ when you went for your usual iced coffee, even at the convenience store near your dorm at midnight when you were craving ramen.
Each time heâd flash that charming smile and say something ridiculous just to watch your reaction. And every time you remained unfazed, he looked a little more intrigued. A little more hungry.
One evening, after you told him for the third time that you werenât interested in watching him rehearse, he showed up at your dorm anyway, holding two cups of coffee.
âYou usually get the caramel iced with extra cream, right?â he asked casually, offering you one like it was nothing.
You froze, staring at the cup. ââŚHow do you know that?â
Yeonjun shrugged, but his eyes were watching you carefully. âI pay attention. Unlike some people who pretend they donât notice me at all.â
You took the coffee, muttering a reluctant âthanks,â and tried to ignore the way his face lit up like youâd just handed him the moon.
The game was supposed to be harmless. Just Yeonjun being Yeonjunâflirty, dramatic, impossible to ignore. But somewhere between the stolen pens and the late-night texts and the way he started remembering tiny details about you, the lines began to blur.
He still teased you relentlessly. Still called you âmeanâ and âcold-heartedâ in that playful tone. Still tried to make you laugh or blush or react.
But sometimes, when he thought you werenât looking, the smile would slip. Just for a second. Youâd catch him watching you with something quieter. Something almost⌠unsure.
Like he didnât quite know what he was doing anymore.
And the worst part?
You were starting to notice.
-----
The first time was purely for fun.
The bass from the frat house party was still vibrating in your bones when you finally dragged Yeonjun out into the cool night air. He had been impossible all eveningâpressed up behind you while you tried to get a drink, whispering filthy little compliments against your ear, hands grazing your waist like they belonged there.
âYouâre coming home with me,â you told him bluntly, fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pulled him toward your dorm.
Yeonjunâs eyes lit up with pure triumph. âFinally,â he grinned, letting you tug him along. âI knew you couldnât resist me forever.â
You didnât bother replying. The second the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the game changed.
Yeonjun barely had time to breathe before you shoved him back against the door. He let out a surprised laugh that quickly melted into a low groan as your mouth crashed into his. The kiss was messy, hungry, and impatient. His hands immediately found your ass, squeezing hard as he pulled you flush against him.
âFuck,â he breathed against your lips, already half-hard. âYouâre a lot stronger than you look.â
âShut up,â you muttered, biting his bottom lip.
That seemed to flip a switch in him.
In one fluid motion, he spun you around, pressing your back against the door instead. His mouth attacked your neck, sucking marks into your skin while his hands shoved your dress up around your waist. You gasped when he dropped to his knees, yanking your panties down your legs in one rough tug.
âNo teasing tonight,â he growled, looking up at you with dark, hungry eyes. âIâve been thinking about this pussy for weeks.â
He buried his face between your thighs without warning, tongue sliding through your folds with shameless enthusiasm. You moaned, fingers threading into his hair as he devoured youâlicking, sucking, groaning like you tasted better than anything heâd ever had. Two long fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly while his lips wrapped around your clit.
You came embarrassingly fast, thighs shaking around his head. Yeonjun didnât stop. He kept licking you through it, humming in satisfaction until your legs nearly gave out.
Then he stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes gleaming with cocky satisfaction.
âBed?â he asked.
âDoor is fine,â you answered breathlessly.
A wicked grin spread across his face. âFuck yes.â
He spun you around again, pressing your chest against the cool wood. You heard the sound of his belt and zipper, then felt the thick head of his cock rubbing against your soaked entrance.
âTell me you want it,â he murmured against your ear, voice rough.
You pushed back against him. âJust fuck me already, Yeonjun.â
He cursed under his breath and thrust in deep in one smooth stroke.
The stretch was intense. He was big, and he didnât give you time to adjustâpulling back and slamming in again with a broken moan. The pace was brutal and perfect. Skin slapped against skin as he fucked you hard against the door, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangled in your hair.
âShitâ you feel so fucking good,â he groaned, lips brushing your shoulder. âSo tight. So wet for me. Been dying to ruin this pretty pussy.â
You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every thrust. He angled his hips and hit that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. His hand slipped around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you came again with a sharp cry, clenching around his cock.
Yeonjunâs rhythm faltered. âFuck, Iâm closeâ can I come inside?â
âYes,â you gasped.
He buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep, guttural moan, hips stuttering as he spilled hot and thick inside you. For a moment, the only sounds were both of you breathing hard.
But Yeonjun wasnât done.
He pulled out slowly, watching with dark fascination as his cum dripped down your thighs. Then he dropped to his knees again, spreading your legs wider.
âWaitâ Yeonjunââ
âShh,â he whispered, voice hoarse. âLet me clean you up.â
His tongue dragged through your folds again, licking up every drop of his own release mixed with your wetness. The filthy, wet sounds filled the room as he ate you out like a man starved, pushing his cum back into you with his tongue before sucking on your swollen clit until you came a third time, sobbing his name.
When he finally stood up, his lips were shiny, eyes hazy with satisfaction. He pulled you into a lazy, deep kiss, letting you taste both of you on his tongue.
You expected him to leave after that. Instead, he walked you over to your bed, stripped the rest of your clothes off, and pulled you down with him.
âJust for a bit,â he murmured against your neck, arms wrapping around you possessively. âThen Iâll go.â
But when you woke up a few hours later, Yeonjun was still thereâbare chest pressed against your back, one leg tangled with yours, breathing slow and steady in his sleep.
And for the first time since this game started, something felt⌠different
-----
The morning after the party, Yeonjun was gone before you woke up. You told yourself it was fine â exactly what you expected. Casual. Fun. No strings.
But then he came back that same night.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
It started small. A text at 11:47 p.m. saying âu up?â followed by him showing up at your dorm with strawberry milk and a bag of your favorite chips like it was completely normal. Heâd flop onto your bed, steal one of your hoodies, and wear it while complaining about practice.
âThis smells like you,â he mumbled one night, burying his face in the collar of your oversized gray hoodie. âIâm keeping it.â
âYou literally have it on right now,â you pointed out.
âExactly. Itâs mine now.â
You rolled your eyes, but didnât fight him when he pulled you into his lap and kissed you slow and deep, like heâd been thinking about it all day.
The sex was still intense, but it was changing.
That particular night, Yeonjun took his time.
He laid you down on your bed instead of fucking you against the wall or on your desk. The lights were dim, only your bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow over his bare skin as he hovered above you.
âNo rush tonight,â he whispered against your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your chest. He spent long minutes on your breasts â sucking, licking, gently biting until you were squirming and arching into his mouth.
âYeonjunâŚâ you breathed, fingers threading through his soft hair.
He hummed, sliding lower. He pushed your thighs apart and ate you out like he had all the time in the world. Long, slow licks. Swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking it gently. Two fingers pumping in and out of you in a steady rhythm, curling just right until your legs were shaking.
When you came on his tongue, he didnât stop. He kept licking you through the aftershocks, groaning at how wet you were, until you were tugging at his hair and begging.
Only then did he crawl back up, settling between your thighs. His cock was hard and leaking as he rubbed the head against your entrance, teasing.
âLook at me,â he said quietly.
You did.
His eyes were darker than usual, but there was something else there too â something softer, almost vulnerable. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Both of you let out shaky breaths.
âFuck⌠you always feel so perfect,â he murmured, forehead pressed against yours.
This time he didnât fuck you hard and fast. He rolled his hips in deep, sensual thrusts, grinding against you with every stroke so his pelvis rubbed perfectly against your clit. The pace was devastatingly intimate. Every movement felt deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.
Your hands roamed his back, nails dragging lightly down his skin as he rocked into you. Yeonjun buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin while whispering things you werenât sure he meant to say out loud.
âNever get tired of this⌠never get tired of you.â
You came first, clenching around him with a broken moan. He followed right after, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you, groaning your name against your throat.
Instead of pulling out and leaving like usual, Yeonjun stayed.
He rolled onto his back and pulled you on top of him, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. His cock was still softening inside you as he held you against his chest.
You traced lazy circles on his collarbone. âYouâre not leaving?â
He was quiet for a moment, fingers stroking up and down your spine.
ââŚDonât want to,â he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. âIs that okay?â
You nodded against his neck.
You fell asleep like that â his arms around you, bodies still connected, his heartbeat steady under your cheek.
When you woke up hours later to the soft glow of early morning, Yeonjun was already awake. His fingers were tracing gentle patterns across your bare stomach, eyes soft and unfocused as he watched the movement. The usual cocky smirk was gone. He looked⌠peaceful. Almost boyish.
You shifted slightly and his gaze flicked up to yours. For a split second, something like panic flashed across his face before he covered it with a lazy smile.
âMorning, mean girl,â he teased, voice still raspy from sleep. âStaring at me while I sleep? Creepy.â
âYouâre the one whoâs been drawing hearts on my stomach for the last ten minutes,â you countered.
He froze. Then laughed, burying his face in your neck to hide the faint blush creeping up his ears.
âShut up,â he mumbled against your skin, arms tightening around you. âI was just⌠bored.â
But his grip didnât loosen. If anything, he pulled you even closer, legs tangling with yours like he was scared youâd slip away if he didnât hold on tight enough.
And for the first time, Choi Yeonjun didnât make a joke about leaving. He stayed until the sun was fully up, quietly stealing more of your hoodies and pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder like this was becoming his new favorite place to be.
The game was getting dangerous.
Because he wasnât playing anymore.
-----
You didnât mean to hear it.
You were in the campus cafĂŠ waiting for your usual caramel iced coffee when two girls at the table behind you started talking. Their voices carried easily.
âYeonjunâs been hanging around her a lot lately, huh?â
âYeah, but you know how he is. He flirts with everyone. Donât take him seriously. Last month he was all over that dance major, remember? Before that it was the girl from the theater club. Heâll get bored eventually.â
A quiet laugh. âExactly. Heâs fun for a good time, but heâs not boyfriend material. Sheâll figure it out soon.â
The words landed like ice water down your spine.
You grabbed your drink and left without looking back, but the damage was done. The doubts you had quietly pushed aside came rushing forward all at once. All those nights he stayed over, the soft kisses in the morning, the way he looked at you like you mattered â was it just another performance? Another game he was playing because you didnât fall at his feet like everyone else?
You started pulling away.
Your replies to his texts became shorter. âBusyâ instead of playful banter. You stopped letting him walk you to class. When he showed up at your dorm that evening with takeout and that bright, familiar grin, you told him you had a paper due and gently closed the door.
Yeonjun noticed immediately.
At first he tried to play it off like usual. He sent memes. He sent âmiss me yet?â at 1 a.m. He showed up outside your lecture hall the next day with your favorite coffee, leaning against the wall looking effortlessly cool.
But you only gave him a small smile and a quiet âthanksâ before heading off with your friends.
By day three, the cracks started showing.
His usual confident aura was fraying. His hair wasnât perfectly styled. There were faint shadows under his eyes. He still smiled when he saw you across the quad, but it didnât quite reach his eyes anymore.
That night he texted:
yeonjun
youâve been avoiding me
did i do something wrong?
talk to me please
You left it on read.
The following evening, he showed up at your dorm unannounced. When you opened the door, he looked⌠tired. Really tired. The golden boy who always sparkled was gone. In his place was someone quieter, more vulnerable, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.
âCan I come in?â he asked, voice softer than usual. No dramatic flair. No teasing.
You hesitated, then stepped aside.
He walked in but didnât try to touch you. Didnât flop onto your bed or steal your hoodie. He just stood there in the middle of your room, hands in his pockets, looking strangely small.
âYouâve been distant,â he said, staring at the floor. âLike⌠really distant. Did something happen?â
You crossed your arms, the cafĂŠ conversation echoing in your head. âI just⌠heard some stuff. About you.â
He looked up sharply. âWhat stuff?â
âThat you flirt with everyone. That thisââ you gestured between the two of you ââis probably just another one of your things. That youâll get bored eventually.â
Yeonjunâs face went pale. For a moment he looked genuinely stricken, like youâd hit him.
He let out a weak, bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. âOf course. Because thatâs what everyone thinks, right?â His voice cracked slightly on the last word. âThe campus flirt. The guy who doesnât do serious. The guy whoâs fun until he isnât.â
He took a step closer but stopped himself, as if he was scared youâd back away.
âI know what people say about me,â he continued quietly. âAnd for a long time⌠I didnât care. Because it was easier that way. If they only liked the fun version, then when they left it wouldnât hurt.â He swallowed hard. âBut with you⌠I stopped pretending weeks ago. I thought you could see that.â
Silence stretched between you.
Yeonjunâs shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted â like the weight of constantly performing was finally crushing him.
âIâll go,â he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. âIf thatâs what you want. I just⌠I hate this. I hate not talking to you. I hate wondering if youâre going to disappear like everyone else does when they realize Iâm not as perfect as they thought.â
He turned toward the door, but paused with his hand on the knob.
âFor what itâs worth,â he added without turning around, âthis stopped being a game for me a long time ago.â
The door clicked shut softly behind him.
You stood there in the middle of your room, heart pounding, replaying the way his voice had trembled. The way his usual sparkle had completely dimmed. The confident, chaotic flirt who had chased you so relentlessly was starting to fall apart â and it was because of you.
For the first time since this whole thing started, you wondered if maybe youâd gotten it all wrong.
-----
The rooftop was quiet after the showcase ended.
Most people had already gone downstairs to the after-party, leaving behind empty cups, scattered confetti, and the distant hum of music floating up from the floors below. You had come up here for fresh air, needing a moment to think. The city lights glittered below like scattered stars, but your mind was still replaying Yeonjunâs tired face from the other night.
You didnât expect him to follow you.
The metal door creaked open behind you. You turned and there he was â Choi Yeonjun, still in his stage outfit, the loose black shirt clinging to his frame, hair messy and damp with sweat from performing. The usual bright, cocky energy was completely gone. He looked exhausted. Raw. Like he hadnât slept properly in days.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a second, just staring at you.
ââŚWhy are you pulling away?â His voice was quiet. No teasing lilt. No dramatic flair. Just a tired, cracked question that hung heavy in the cool night air.
You opened your mouth, but he kept going, stepping closer.
âI know Iâm annoying. I know I come on too strong. But youâve been avoiding me for days now and I canâtââ His breath hitched. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. âI canât fucking take it anymore.â
He stopped a few feet away from you, hands clenched at his sides like he was trying not to reach out.
âI keep replaying everything, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Was it too much? Did I push too hard?â His voice dropped even lower. âOr is it because of what those girls said in the cafĂŠ?â
Your eyes widened slightly. He noticed.
âYeah,â he said with a bitter smile that didnât reach his eyes. âI heard about that too. People talk. They always talk about me.â
Yeonjun let out a shaky breath and finally closed the distance. He stood right in front of you now, close enough that you could see the faint redness in his eyes and the way his bottom lip trembled just slightly.
âThatâs the problem, isnât it?â he whispered. âEveryone thinks Iâm just this⌠flirt. This fun guy who doesnât mean anything he says. And maybe I deserved that reputation. For a long time, it was easier to keep things shallow. If they only liked the performance, then it didnât hurt when they left.â
He laughed, but it sounded painful.
âBut with you⌠I stopped performing weeks ago. I stopped pretending. I showed up at your door at midnight because I genuinely wanted to see you. I memorized your stupid coffee order because I wanted to know everything about you. I stayed the night because being with you is the only time my head finally shuts up.â
His hands lifted like he wanted to touch you, but he hesitated and let them fall.
âYou didnât fall for the charm. You saw through all of it. And that terrified me⌠but it also made me want to be real for once.â His voice cracked on the last word. âSo when you started pulling away, it felt like you finally realized Iâm not worth it either.â
Yeonjun looked down, shoulders hunched, the confident campus king nowhere in sight. Just a boy who was scared of being left behind the moment he stopped entertaining people.
âI donât know how to do this,â he admitted hoarsely. âI donât know how to make someone stay when Iâm not being entertaining. When Iâm just⌠me. Tired. Clingy. Insecure. A mess.â
He finally looked up at you again, eyes glassy under the dim rooftop lights.
âSo tell me the truth. Do you want me to stop? Because if this was all just a game to you too, then say it. Rip the bandaid off. Iâd rather hear it now than keep lying awake wondering why the one person I actually care about is slipping away from me.â
The wind whistled softly across the rooftop. Yeonjun stood there, completely exposed, no mask left. No flirty smile. No dramatic gestures. Just raw, trembling vulnerability as he waited for you to decide whether to stay or finally walk away like everyone else had.
His hands were shaking at his sides.
And in that moment, you realized this wasnât the Choi Yeonjun everyone else knew.
This was the real one.
You couldnât stand the distance anymore.
The raw pain in Yeonjunâs voice, the way he stood there trembling with his walls completely shattered â it broke something in you. Without thinking, you closed the gap and cupped his face with both hands.
âYeonjun,â you whispered.
Then you kissed him.
He froze for half a second, like he couldnât believe it was real. Then a broken sound escaped his throat and he kissed you back like a man drowning. His arms wrapped around you tightly, almost desperately, pulling you flush against his body as if he was terrified youâd vanish.
The kiss was messy and urgent, full of everything heâd been holding back. Teeth clashing, tongues sliding, his hands gripping your waist so hard you knew youâd have bruises tomorrow. When you finally pulled back for air, his forehead rested against yours, eyes still squeezed shut.
âIâm scared,â he admitted in a shaky whisper. âIâm so fucking scared of how much I need you.â
âThen stop running from it,â you murmured, brushing your thumb across his cheek. âI see you, Yeonjun. The real you. And Iâm not going anywhere.â
That was all it took.
His mouth was on yours again, deeper this time, as he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the rooftop wall. The city lights blurred below, but nothing else mattered. Only him.
Clothes came off in a heated rush â his stage shirt, your top, his pants shoved down just enough. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cool concrete. His cock was already rock hard, throbbing against your soaked core.
âNeed you,â he groaned against your neck, lining himself up. âNeed to feel you. Pleaseââ
He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with a long, broken moan. The angle was deep, intimate. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.
âLook at me,â he whispered.
You did. His eyes were glassy, vulnerable, completely open in a way youâd never seen before.
âI love you,â he said, voice cracking. âNot the game. Not the flirting. Just⌠you. The way you see through me. The way you stay anyway.â
Then he started moving.
It wasnât the rough, possessive fuck from the other night. This was slow, deep, devastating. Every roll of his hips dragged against that perfect spot inside you, making you gasp and cling to his shoulders. He kept his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every flicker of pleasure across your face like it was the most important thing in the world.
âFuckâ you feel so good,â he panted, grinding deep. âSo warm. So tight. Like you were made for me.â
One of his hands slid between your bodies, thumb circling your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Your moans echoed softly into the night as pleasure built fast and overwhelming.
Yeonjunâs pace gradually quickened, hips snapping harder, chasing the feeling of being completely connected to you. He buried his face in your neck, sucking fresh marks into your skin while whispering filthy, needy confessions between moans.
âYouâre mine, right? Tell me youâre mine.â
âIâm yours,â you gasped, nails digging into his back.
He groaned loudly, the sound vibrating against your throat. He adjusted his angle and started pounding into you harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with your shared moans. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until you came hard around him, clenching and pulsing, crying out his name.
But Yeonjun didnât stop.
He fucked you through it, drawing out your orgasm until your legs shook, then kept going. His thrusts became erratic, desperate, almost punishing in their intensity.
âAgain,â he growled, voice hoarse. âCome for me again, baby. I need to feel it.â
His thumb never stopped on your clit. The overstimulation made you sob with pleasure as another orgasm crashed into you, even stronger than the first. This time Yeonjun followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible and coming with a shattered moan of your name. You felt every pulse as he filled you up, hot and thick, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your heavy breathing and the distant city noise.
Yeonjun didnât pull out. He stayed buried inside you, holding you against the wall like he never wanted to let go. His body trembled against yours as quiet, exhausted tears slipped down his cheeks.
âDonât leave me,â he whispered brokenly against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. âPlease. I donât know how to do this without you anymore.â
You held him tighter, fingers gently stroking through his damp hair as his cock continued to twitch inside you.
âIâm right here,â you promised softly. âIâm staying.â
He nodded shakily, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as more silent tears fell. The confident, untouchable flirt was gone. In his place was someone beautifully broken â someone who had finally stopped performing and let himself be loved exactly as he was.
And you held every fragile piece of him.
-----
The city hummed far below, but up here it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.
Yeonjunâs body was still pressed tightly against yours, his cock softening inside you as he trembled in the aftermath. His face stayed buried in your neck, warm breaths fanning across your skin in uneven bursts. You could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your chest.
He didnât pull out. He didnât move at all for a long moment, just held you like letting go might make you disappear.
Finally, he shifted carefully, sliding out of you with a soft, wet sound that made you both shiver. A trickle of his cum dripped down your thigh. Yeonjun stared at it for a second, then reached down with slightly shaky fingers and gently wiped it away with the edge of his discarded stage shirt.
âYou okay?â he asked, voice hoarse and small. His usual cocky tone was nowhere to be found.
You nodded, cupping his cheek. âIâm okay. Are you?â
Instead of answering, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered both of you onto the wide ledge, careful to keep you on his lap so you were straddling him. His arms wrapped around your waist again, locking you against his chest as if he still couldnât bear any distance.
His hands moved slowly over your body â gentle now, almost reverent. He stroked down your back, traced the marks heâd left on your neck and shoulders, pressed soft kisses to every spot his lips could reach. The confident, filthy-mouthed Yeonjun from minutes ago had completely melted away, leaving someone quiet and fragile in his place.
âI donât know how to do this,â he whispered against your collarbone. His voice cracked. âReal feelings. Real⌠everything. Iâve spent so long making sure people only saw the fun side of me that I donât know what to do when someone stays for the rest.â
A shaky breath left him.
âI keep waiting for the moment you realize Iâm too much. Too clingy. Too needy. That the version of me who shows up at your door at 2 a.m. because I canât sleep without smelling your hoodie isnât worth keeping around.â
You felt something warm and wet against your skin. Tears. Quiet, exhausted tears sliding down his cheeks as he clung to you tighter.
You gently tilted his face up. His eyes were red-rimmed and shining, completely unguarded. No performance. No mask. Just Yeonjun â raw, scared, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
âYouâre not too much,â you said softly, brushing the tears away with your thumbs. âI want all of it. The chaotic flirt, the quiet boy who steals my hoodies, the one who gets jealous and the one who cries on rooftops. I see you, Yeonjun. And Iâm still here.â
A broken sob slipped from his throat. He pressed his face back into your neck, shoulders shaking as he let himself fall apart in your arms. You held him through it, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other rubbing slow circles along his spine. The cool night air brushed against your bare skin, but the warmth of his body kept you grounded.
After a while, his breathing evened out. The tears slowed. He stayed curled against you, lips occasionally pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder, your throat, anywhere he could reach without letting go.
âYouâre really not leaving?â he asked, voice muffled and small, almost childlike.
âNever,â you promised, kissing the top of his head.
He let out a shaky, relieved breath. Then, with surprising gentleness, he guided you to lie down with him on the wide concrete ledge. He pulled you on top of him again, spreading your thighs so he could slowly slide back inside your warmth. Not to fuck you â just to feel close. To stay connected.
A soft, content sigh left him as he settled deep inside you, arms wrapping securely around your back. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow.
âI think Iâm in love with you,â he murmured into your hair, so quietly you almost missed it. âAnd itâs the scariest thing Iâve ever felt⌠but I donât want it to stop.â
You smiled against his skin and pressed a kiss over his heart.
âGood. Because Iâm in love with you too.â
Yeonjunâs arms tightened around you. He fell asleep like that â still buried inside you, tear tracks drying on his cheeks, a small, peaceful smile on his lips for the first time in days.
For once, the campus flirt wasnât performing.
He was just being loved.
And he finally let himself believe it.
-----
Weeks later, the rooftop was quieter this time.
The campus event had ended hours ago, but you and Yeonjun had slipped away from the noise and found yourselves back where everything had changed. The same ledge, the same glittering city lights below. Only now, everything felt different.
Yeonjun was lying with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed as you played with his hair. He wasnât performing. No dramatic stories, no teasing smirks. Just soft, tired breaths and the occasional contented hum when your fingers scratched gently at his scalp.
ââŚDo you know how scary you are?â he murmured suddenly, voice low and warm in the night air.
You laughed softly. âHow?â
He opened his eyes and looked up at you, no mask left. Just raw, honest affection shining in them.
âBecause you met the version of me everyone likes,â he said quietly, âthe loud, flirty, always-on version⌠and somehow stayed for the one who doesnât know what the fuck heâs doing half the time.â
You leaned down and kissed him gently. He melted into it, one hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you there a little longer.
When you pulled back, he was smiling â small, genuine, and a little shy.
âI have something to show you,â he said, sitting up. He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. Your eyes widened when you saw the new post already drafted.
It was a simple photo â one heâd taken of the two of you a few days ago. You were sitting on his bed wearing his hoodie, laughing at something heâd said, while he looked at you like you hung the stars. No flashy caption. Just:
choi_yj mine ⥠@y/n_username
Your heart skipped. âYouâre⌠announcing it?â
âYeah,â he said, a little nervous but determined. âIâm done hiding. Done letting people think this is just another fling. I want everyone to know Iâm yours now.â
He posted it.
Within seconds, likes and comments started flooding in. His friends spamming shocked emojis, confused messages from people who never thought theyâd see the day Choi Yeonjun hard-launched someone. He turned his phone off and tossed it aside, pulling you into his arms instead.
âCome here, girlfriend,â he whispered against your lips, the new title making him grin like an idiot.
The kiss quickly grew deeper. His hands slipped under your shirt, warm against your skin as he laid you down on the wide ledge. This time it was slow and sweet â clothes coming off lazily between kisses and quiet laughter.
He took his time with you, lips trailing down your body, whispering praises between every kiss. When he finally slid inside you, forehead pressed to yours, the moan he let out was soft and relieved.
âFuck⌠Iâll never get used to this,â he breathed, rolling his hips deep and unhurried. âBeing with you. Being allowed to love you.â
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. The sex was gentle but intense â every thrust full of emotion. He kept kissing you through it, murmuring âI love youâ like he was making up for every time heâd been too scared to say it before.
You came together, trembling and clinging to each other under the open sky.
Afterwards, he didnât pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, holding you against his chest as you both caught your breath.
The next few weeks of dating Yeonjun were nothing like you expected.
He was ridiculously clingy in the cutest ways.
Heâd show up to your morning classes with your favorite coffee and steal kisses in the hallway like he couldnât wait another second. He started carrying your bag without asking. In the library, heâd sit beside you with his head on your shoulder, occasionally pressing little kisses to your neck until you had to shush him for giggling too loud.
One evening, he dragged you to the dance studio after hours. Instead of showing off, he taught you a simple part of his choreography, hands on your waist, laughing every time you stepped on his feet. When you finally got it right, he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you so hard you both fell onto the practice room floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
At night, he was still intense â fucking you like heâd been starved for you all day, whispering filthy praises while he pinned your wrists above your head. But afterwards, heâd become the softest version of himself, curling into you, asking you to play with his hair while he told you about his day.
The campus slowly got used to seeing the once-unattainable Choi Yeonjun walking around with your hand in his, proudly showing you off.
One night, back on that same rooftop, he pulled you close under a blanket heâd brought. The city sparkled below as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
âI thought attention was the only thing that mattered,â he said quietly. âTurns out I just needed one person who saw the real me⌠and chose me anyway.â
You turned in his arms and kissed him softly.
âAnd Iâll keep choosing you,â you whispered. âEvery day.â
Yeonjun smiled â bright, warm, and completely real.
âMy love language was broken,â he murmured, echoing his old fears. âBut you fixed it.â
He kissed you again under the stars, slow and full of promise.
âWe broke up!â you scream, voice shredded with fury. âGet that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!â But you glance downâjust for a second. And thatâs all it takes. His hand is on your throat.
cw: dark!jungwon, noncon,hair pulling, degradation, creampie, babytrapping and physical violence.
word count : 3.5k
You knew it was the right decision.
Ending things with Jungwon wasnât just overdue, it was needed. The relationship had rotted from the inside out, twisted into something dark and suffocating. Youâd spent too much time walking on eggshells and flinching at every raised voice or hand. So you left.
But ever since the breakup, something in the air felt wrong.
He didnât take it wellânot at all. The calls kept coming. At first, it was pleading. Sweet, pathetic apologies dripped in fakeness. But they didnât stay sweet for long. They turned sharp and accusing. His voice would swing from soft regret to explosive rage in a single breath. As if the breakup wasnât real. Like you were throwing a tantrum.
Now your phone buzzes at strange hoursâ2:17 a.m., 4:03, 5:12 always from unknown numbers. No voice, no noise just silence. Youâve started checking your locks more than once. Then again. Then again. You keep the blinds shut even when the sun is out, because the idea of light feels unsafe now. Too visible. Because Jungwon doesnât lose. And he doesn't listen when you say no. He doesnât rage. He doesn't scream. He waits. He smiles. Control isnât something he wants. Itâs something he assumes he already has. You donât know it now, but youâll soon realize that leaving him was the worst mistake you couldâve made.Â
âGirl, relaxâheâs not here,â she says, not even looking at you. Her voice is flat, tired, like youâre annoying her with your nonsense. âStop being so paranoid. I heard heâs got a new girlfriend or something, so⌠heâs over you.â
You blink at her, fork halfway to your mouth. She's probably right. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, and youâre starting to feel like the one who is being crazy. But the incidents around the house was telling you otherwise like the window in your bedroom was open yesterday morning. Just a crack. You remember closing it. You always do. You even double checked it after brushing your teeth. But there it was, gaping like a mouth in the wall, letting the cold in.
Then there was the necklace. You found it in the laundry room. You havenât worn it in weeks. Youâd swear you left it on your dresser. âYou donât think thatâs weird?â you ask, quieter than you meant to. âThat my stuff keeps moving around?â Kailey shrugs. âYou probably just forgot. Youâve been super stressed lately. Your brainâs probably just... I donât know. Filling in blanks.â Her smile is small, pitying. It makes you feel like a child so you nod, even though your stomach twists. Because how do you argue with someone who makes your fear sound like fiction?
Everyone youâve talked to says the same thing. Youâre imagining it. Youâre spiraling. Maybe talk to someone. No one listens to what youâre actually saying. They just want you to stop talking. And the more you try to explain, the more ridiculous you sound. Like some clingy ex who canât move on. Like youâre obsessed with someone who isn't even thinking about you.Â
 You smile. You laugh when Kailey makes a joke about âgetting you a security system and a therapist.â Maybe theyâre right. Maybe your memory is just playing tricks on you. Maybe the cold air, the lost things, the tapping you heard last nightâŚmaybe itâs all just in your head. But if thatâs true⌠why does it still feel like someoneâs watching you?Â
âOkay, call me when you get home, alright?â Kailey says, pulling you into a quick hug. âAnd donât worry about Jungwon. Youâre fine. Seriously. He wasnât good for you, and breaking up with him was the smartest thing youâve done.â She squeezes your arm before turning away, heading toward her car without waiting for a reply. The door slams, the engine hums to life, and just like that, sheâs goneâleaving you alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You stand there for a moment, watching her taillights fade into the distance. The street feels too quiet now, like someone turned the volume down on the world. âI hope youâre right,â you murmur, mostly to yourself, then turn and begin the walk toward home.Â
The sidewalk stretches ahead of you, slick from earlier rain. Your shoes tap softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm you try to focus on. Left foot, right foot. Just a walk home. Just like every other night. But now Kailey's voice is gone, and without it, the air feels too thin. A streetlight flickers as you pass underneath it, buzzing once like itâs annoyed by your presence. You glance up out of habit. It dies for a moment, then flares back to life, casting your shadow behind you. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching as you turn down your street. The houses here are dark, windows glowing faintly blue with TV light or not at all. You tell yourself itâs just late. People are asleep inside.Â
But your stomach wonât stop tightening. That pressure behind your ribs againâlike somethingâs watching you. Like somethingâs a few steps too close. You stop walking to listen. Behind you⌠nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just wind rustling the trees and the faint hum of traffic blocks away. You glance over your shoulder. Empty street. You hate how fast your heart is beating. You keep walking. Faster now. You donât want to look again. If no oneâs there, youâll feel stupid. If someone isâNo, don't go there. You stop again, one foot hesitating mid-step. You turn slowly and look behind you. Still no one there. But the streetlightâItâs off now. Completely dark.
Your breath catches in your throat. Your limbs tense before you can even think. And thenâYou run.
You donât think about how it looks. You donât care. You take off, shoes slapping the pavement, your bag bouncing hard against your hip. You just run.
Your house comes into viewâporch light glowing weakly like itâs trying, but not enough. You fumble for your keys as you hit the steps. You nearly drop them. Your fingers are shaking too much and the sweat making it difficult to hold them. You glance behind you. Nothing. Still. But you donât believe it. You shove the key in, not it. Try again. Shit not it. Curse under your breath. You keep looking over your shoulder like you're expecting to see someone step out of the dark. Click. The key finally turns. You throw the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind you. You turn the lock. The deadbolt and the chain. Then you press your back to the door, eyes closed, chest heaving.Â
You stay with your back pressed to the door, listening for somethingâanything. Maybe the wind. Maybe footsteps that were never there. Maybe it was just your heart that was punching the inside of your ribs. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Then you heard a thud. A soft, unmistakable sound, like something falling. Not from the kitchen or the living room. It was from your bedroom.
Your body goes cold. You strain your ears, willing for the sound to be nothing. A book slipping off your bed. Something you left too close to the edge. Just gravity. Just the house settling. But you know what you heard. You know exactly where it came from.
Your room. Down the hall. Door slightly openâjust as you left it.
You step forward. Slowly. Like your feet donât belong to you anymore. Your fingers brush against the wall as you move, needing the feel of something solid. You pause at your door. Another noiseâa shift. The creak of the mattress springs.
You donât want to look. Every nerve screams at you not to. But you push the door open anyway. And there he is.
Jungwon.
Sitting on your bed like he never left. Heâs leaned back against your pillows, one arm stretched casually along the headboard, the other resting on his knee. Legs spread comfortably, like he owns the room. Like youâre the intruder. âWell,â he says, voice smooth, almost lazy, âyou made it farther than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd fold after the second time you found the window open.â His gaze skims over youâyour posture, your silence, your fear.
âYou really thought locking doors and whispering to Kailey would make a difference?â he asks, tilting his head slightly. âCute.â Then he exhales, almost like a yawn, and shifts his weight to the side of your bed. âBut playtimeâs over now.â He looks you straight in the eye, the smile gone. âTime to come back to me. This little game was fun... but Iâm getting bored.â
He pats the bed beside himâslow, twice.
âDonât make me chase you again.â
You looked at him like heâd just sprouted horns. âJungwon⌠what the fuck is wrong with you?â Your voice cracks from the force of it. Your hands are shaking. You donât care.
âGet the hell out of my house!â you scream, louder this time. But he doesnât move. He doesnât even blink.
âBabe,â Jungwon said, his voice calm and patronizing, like he was scolding a child. âStop yelling. Itâs embarrassing.âÂ
âWe broke up!â you scream, voice shredded with fury. âGet that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!â You reach into your bag, fingers brushing your phone, eyes locked on him like you're defusing a bomb. Your heart racing. But you glance downâjust for a second. And thatâs all it takes.
His hand is on your throat.
âNow why would you do that, huh, babe?â he breathes, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. âI missed you. And I know you missed me.â
His fingers tighten. You choke, your nails clawing at his wrist. Your vision flickers.
âStop struggling and just accept it, babe. Iâm here now. Weâre done playingââ
You swing your knee up, fast, hard, straight into his groin.
He makes a soundâhalf-growl, half-screamâand doubles over, crashing to the floor.
You stumble back, gasping, clutching your throat, then bolt down the hall. You donât look behind you. You know whatâs coming. You hit the living room. The space feels too smallâtoo many corners, too many shadows, and nowhere to hide. Your feet pound the floor as you race toward the kitchen, lungs burning.
But thenâHis hand. It misses you by less than an inch.Â
You throw yourself into the kitchen and lunge for the drawer. The knife. The drawer sticks. You yank. Too slow. His hand grabs your hairâhardâand you feel your head jerk back, your scalp screaming as he slams you forward. Your temple hits the counter edge with a sickening crack. The world wavers. You dropped to the floor.
Heâs pacing now, breathing hard, muttering. Mindless. Mechanical. Like a record skipping on loop.
âYou were made for me,â he hisses, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. âDonât you get it? You donât exist without me. I built you.
He slams the drawer shut with his footâBANGâand the sound explodes through the kitchen. You flinch instinctively, shoulder curling inward. He laughs under his breath.
âNo one else will touch you. Not after this. You think someoneâs gonna want you after Iâm done with you?â He gestures to you like you were trash. âTheyâll see right through you, babe.â
He steps over your legs like theyâre part of the floor, starts pacing in front of the fridge, cracking his knuckles, dragging his hand through his hair, muttering. His eyes are wildâglassy and glowing with something sick.
âYou keep pretending youâre scared. But youâre not. Not really,â he says, smiling now, voice dipping into something slower, darker. âYou like it when I get like this. You made those sounds for me, remember? The begging, the whimpering... the way you said my name when you couldnât take it anymore.â
He crouches suddenly, right in front of you, and grabs your jawâtight, fingers pressing into your cheeks.
âYou remember that, donât you?â
You try to pull away. He doesnât let go.
âI own you. Every noise you make, every breath you takeâthatâs mine. You donât get to run anymore. You had your little tantrum. Now?â His voice softens like silk. He stands again, towering above you, breath heaving, arms loose at his sides like he doesnât know whether to touch you or kill you.
âNow you don't get to leave.â
âPlease⌠just stop,â you whispered, voice raw, tears streaking your cheeks as your back pressed against the cold wooden kitchen counter. âYouâve had your fun.â
Jungwon didnât flinch. He only tilted his head, eyes drinking in your trembling frame like it was art he couldnât look away from.
âGod,â he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and dark with something you couldnât name. âYouâre so damn pretty when you cry.â
You turned your face away, breath hitching.
Jungwon's hand shot out, fingers tangling harshly in your hair. He fisted it tight, yanking your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. The sudden, painful grip made you gasp, tears flying from your eyes as he wrenched you off your feet. Your knees scraped against the hardwood floor, sending jolts of stinging pain up your legs, but he showed no mercy.
"You donât get to turn away from me," he growled, voice dripping with venom.Â
Jungwon slammed you down onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, the breath whooshing out of your lungs at the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he had you by the hair again, bending you over the edge of the counter roughly. You felt the chill of the granite against your skin as he forced you to arch your back. "Look at you," Jungwon snarled in your ear, his voice a low, feral rumble. "What a sweet, trembling mess you are. You can't deny how much you fucking love this, can you? How much you've missed having me inside you, ruining you?"
He punctuated his words by grinding his hard, clothed erection against the curve of your ass. You could feel every thick inch of him, a whimper escaped your throat, equal parts fear and shameful, traitorous arousal.
"This is what you do to me," Jungwon growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. "This is the effect you have on me, you fucking tease. I've been thinking about this pussy, about burying myself in you."
He tore the delicate fabric of your panties without hesitation, the rip sharp in the silence. The ruined lace discarded, leaving you bare and shivering as the cold air kissed your exposed skin. His touch followedâfingers finding your slick heat, dragging through your folds with a rough, unrelenting rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs.Â
"You don't get to say shit," he hissed, "You don't get to deny me anymore. I'm going to take what's mine, over and over again until you're dripping with my cum."
You heard the frantic tug of his zipper, the hiss of fabric shoved down in hasteâhe was struggling, almost clumsy in his desperation. He couldnât wait. The need to be inside you was written in every rushed movement, every uneven breath. Your mind was fogged, flooded with heat, and the sound of him losing control just made it worse.Â
Jungwon's hips surged forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your core in one brutal thrust. A scream tore from your throat at the sudden, intense intrusion, your walls clenching desperately around his invading length. He didn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a hard, punishing pace as he bent over you from behind.
His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you completely.
"Fuck," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with lust and dark satisfaction. âYou can hate me all you want. Doesnât change how perfectly I fit in you.â
One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rutted into you. The other snaked up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump and race. Your vision swam, head spinning as he fucked you with brutal intensity, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen.
âBeg all you want. I know exactly what you need.â Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. âBy the time Iâm done with you, there wonât be nothing left.âÂ
His fingers tightened around your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. âYouâre going to carry a reminder of me, one way or another.â
A surge of pure panic shot through you at Jungwon's dark promise. Your heart raced, pounding wildly against your ribs as his fingers tightened around your throat, restricting your airflow. You tried to shake your head.
"No," you gasped out, voice barely a whisper. "Please, Jungwon, don't. Pull out, please..."
But even as the words left your lips, you knew it was futile. Jungwon was beyond reason, beyond caring about your pleas and fears. He was driven by a singular, obsessive desire to claim and conquer.
Ignoring your desperate entreaty, he was fucking into you with brutal, animalistic intensity. The kitchen filled with the vulgar sounds of your coupling - the slap of skin on skin, your strangled cries, his grunts and growls of pleasure.
"Fuck, I can feel it," Jungwon snarled, his voice tight with impending release. âYou feel that? The way you pull me in like you were made for this? Like your body already knows it belongs to me.âÂ
He punctuated his words with a harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt his cock jerk and pulse, growing even harder, impossibly bigger. Your eyes widened in terror and a sickening mix of reluctant arousal.
"Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't cum inside me. I don't want to..."
But your pleas fell on deaf ears. With a guttural roar, Jungwon slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his cock erupted. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his cum.
"Take it," he commanded harshly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you. "Take every last drop.â
You shuddered and sobbed as you felt his cum filling you up, your body instinctively clenching and milking his pulsing cock. The sheer depravity of it, the utter lack of control, sent a confusing surge of dark pleasure through you.
As Jungwon finally pulled out, you could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs.
You couldnât move so you remained bent over the kitchen counter, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the cold granite surface below. Your body ached, used and abused in the most intimate way possible. The sticky evidence of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder of your defilement.
Behind you, Jungwon was already fixing his pants, tucking his spent cock away and smoothing down his shirt. He acted as if he hadn't just violated you, just taken something from you that you hadn't willingly given. As if this was an everyday occurrence, a simple transaction.
"Shut up," he barked harshly, silencing your muffled sobs and whimpers. âDid you really think someone would come running if you cried loud enough?â
You flinched at the biting words, then he was bending over you again, looming large and menacing. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head almost gently. For a moment, you thought he might caress you, soothe you. But then his fingers tightened, gripping your hair almost painfully as he wrenched your head to the side to force you to meet his gaze.
"You'll never be clean again," Jungwon whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Not after this. Not after me."
His eyes bored into yours, gleaming with a manic, possessive light. Before you could look away, his mouth was on you, his lips brushing against your forehead in a mockery of a tender kiss. A promise of something far darker.
And he was right, no matter how far you ran, how high you built your walls, or how many times you tried to cut him outâJungwon always found a way back in. Like smoke slipping through the cracks, like a shadow that knew your every hiding spot. It didnât matter how fiercely you tried to protect yourself. He would always find you, you knew the truth: you would never be safe from him. Not really. Not ever.Â
⤡ fox hybrid head cannons
vampire head cannons
ill come back to you like i always do
the taste of sin
horny yeonjun head cannon
daddy yeonjun
healing process
me or the laptop
hyung and noona (unfinished LMAO)
rule breaker ft! wooyoung from ateez
eldest pup
âCHOI SOOBIN â
⤡ bunny hybrid head cannons
needy
a helping hand
too much
sub soobin head cannons
sugar baby soobin
purrfect pussy
perv gamer soobin head cannons
dream team? more like cream team
look at me daddy!
strawberries and cream
2 peas in a pod
don't stop im close
all day
tired and horny
im a pervert
blood bunny
âCHOI BEOMGYUâ
⤡puppy hybrid head cannons
money? more like honey!
puppy love
not a lot, just forever
loser lover
am i good enough for you?
hard thoughts #1
cramps
hard thoughts #2
hard thoughts #3
your tears make me hard LOL
just the tip
under pressure
eternal
colouring book
âKANG TAEHYUNâ
⤡ cat hybrid head cannons
after hours
clingy cat hybrid tyun
professor
biting is my love language
wolf type
âHUENING KAIâ
⤡ wolf hybrid head canons
hold it
i dont bite, unless you ask me to
oversized
âOT5â
⤡ sharing is caring
daddy txt
bucket list (unfinished, prolly never will be finished LOL)
half a human, the master list
little one
one, two, three. (CSB, CBG, HK)
hard thoughts
already?
inexperienced
too much
packing my bags
scentin n repenting
hard thoughts #1
hard thoughts #2
hard thoughts #3
TAKE IT OFF (KTH, CBG, CYJ)
where your new boyfriend, jake, is the perfect man for you. heâs everything youâve ever wanted, to the point that he feels almost.. familiar.
pairing: jake x f!reader (ft. ex jay)
length: 5.3k
warnings: copycat au, manipulation, jake is unwell af, smut; masturbation, both oral, dom!jake, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, mouth spitting, nasty shit.. 18+ MDNI
notes: hey⌠lil quickie to get me back in the writing groove #makeitwashed
YOU THINK YOUâRE GOING TO MARRY JAKE SIM.
never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate â all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldnât search for it, or even try for it ever again.Â
but thatâs the thing about love, isnât it? it happens when youâre least expecting it. you donât find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that thereâs no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake.Â
jake had always been around â heâs a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair.Â
he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasnât so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you mightâve found a good friend in jake.Â
none of it couldâve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead.Â
love. real love, pure love. a love that didnât keep you waiting, that didnât have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didnât deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you.Â
after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex.Â
he comforted you through it â held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldnât take care of yourself â and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side.Â
once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didnât have to be around the stuff any longer.
jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, youâre not sure if jake even has any. heâs so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu.Â
youâre convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone youâve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs.Â
youâre so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow â he loves you even more.Â
â
not a day goes by where jake doesnât think about marrying you.Â
you donât even have to do anything and already, heâs picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. heâs been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. heâs not prepared enough. but he will be, soon.Â
he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little âtake your time handsome :)â text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants â jayâs sweatpants.Â
every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake â youâd called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, heâd thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadnât realised was from the pile of your exâs clothes.
by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after youâd had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it wouldâve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadnât stopped things before they could escalate.Â
youâre too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again â not after you handed it over to jakeâs hands.Â
jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you donât even realise it, but itâs why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place.Â
jake pockets his phone into jayâs sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt â also jayâs â before spritzing on a layer of jayâs favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jayâs favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jayâs. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once heâd heard the news of your breakup, he didnât think twice about dyeing it back to black.Â
jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jayâs height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jayâs.Â
jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesnât recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick âOn my way cutie <3â before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jayâs jeans he wore yesterday on the floor.Â
jake hadnât thrown out a single possession of your exâs like he promised you. that day he drove them to the âdumpâ to end up in a heap of landfill, heâd actually just taken them right back to his house, where heâs since been studying them harder than his college finals.Â
every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. heâs even tried learning some of jayâs homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jayâs scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jayâs closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay â every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much youâd think he was in love.Â
no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.
what you donât know is that jake wanted you first, from afar â from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing.Â
you donât even remember jakeâs existence before you met him as jayâs friend. he wasnât memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay.Â
and itâs worked better than he couldâve ever imagined.Â
yesterday, while he was over, youâd shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.
âyou should start again,â he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. âitâs a healthy hobby to have.â
âi only ever wrote when i was upset.â you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. âi donât need it anymore.â
so today, he has an objective.Â
jake had treated you to a date night-in. heâd cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jayâs recipes â including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients â then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how youâd fall asleep whenever he put them on.
drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadnât expected you to last long. and yet youâd hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants.Â
jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like heâd planned.Â
your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot.Â
diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page.Â
all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love.Â
he moved quickly â since thereâs no telling if youâd miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise heâs gone â so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. heâll be watching the video back later anyways, when heâs alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible.Â
as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time youâre both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure youâll never want to leave him. and now heâs got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.
âjakey?â
the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, âyeah baby?âÂ
âwhereâd yâgo?â you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep.Â
âjust getting the bed ready,â he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. âiâll carry you in, okay?âÂ
âmâkay..â
jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there.Â
yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jakeâs body. he did it though â he fucking did it! heâs gonna make you his for life.Â
â
two pages in and jake thinks heâs scarred for life.Â
he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately youâve wanted it since youâve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay.Â
not just from jayâs own word of mouth â loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he âdidnât know how to handle all thatâ â but from jakeâs own ears too. heâd walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. theyâd be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jayâs mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.
being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another â but this⌠this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation.Â
you slept with jay on the first date â or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didnât care.Â
here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip.Â
heâs helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just canât look away. he needs this knowledge â he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe heâs made for you.Â
he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldnât do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you wouldâve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back.Â
hm.Â
jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jayâs) sweats. thereâs even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants.Â
who wouldâve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard.Â
shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading.Â
that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throatâ
jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick.Â
with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees heâs not even halfway through. he hasnât even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where thereâs sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him.Â
heâs in for a long night with his right hand.Â
â
âjake, what are you thinking?â
jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly.Â
honest answer? jakeâs thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning.Â
heâd surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where youâve been buried in each otherâs mouths since.Â
somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, youâd taken the initiative to climb into his lap â and where heâd usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each otherâs bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose.Â
âjakey,â you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. âwhatâs up?â
he huffs a laugh. âme.â you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. ânah, iâm just.. i still canât believe youâre real.â
and he means that more than you could know. heâs spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now youâre on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.
his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, âurgh, iâve been waiting so long, jake.â
âi know,â he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. âyouâve done so well, baby, iâm proud of youââ
âjust let me sit on your dick already!â
jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how youâre behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet youâre.. bossing jake around?Â
this isnât going how it should beâŚ
âi want you in me, jake.â you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. âi wanna ride you.â his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow heâs taking this. âlet me?âÂ
shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there â slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that heâs supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you.Â
âyou think you can tell me what to do?â he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. âthatâs no way to get what you want, baby.â
âjakeââ you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. âiâ iâm sorry..â
he hums, unconvinced. âyou use your manners when you ask.â jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. heâd bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands.Â
you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesnât recognise. submission, must be. âplease?â your voice comes out barely above a whisper.
jake pokes his cheek with his tongue â something jay did that drove you crazy â and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jakeâs grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval.Â
âplease.â you almost whine. âjake, please, iâve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, iâll be so good.â
the sweetest girl heâs ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?
he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed â jake chuckles in your face.Â
ânah.â
within a blink jakeâs got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours.Â
âweâre doing this my way,â he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. âwhat you need, baby, is to get fucked.â you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. âthen maybe, if youâre so good, you can ask again.â he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. ânicely this time.â
âah, jakeââ you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves.Â
âyouâve been waiting so long?â jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. âbaby. you have no idea about me.â
âa-ah! iâm sorry!â you babble, to jakeâs confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. youâll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?
not even a few seconds later youâre clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise youâre cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until youâre pushing at his chest, whining that itâs too much.Â
jakeâs dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how youâd daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well heâs doing in mimicking your ex â and youâre drunk off it, you donât even realise that youâre about to get fucked by the exact same man.Â
jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before heâs back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore.Â
with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as youâre gripping him like a fucking vice. everything heâs ever wanted, everything heâs sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.
heâs able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell.Â
âyou feel so perfect, baby,â he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. âiâm gonna fucking wreck you.â
jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while heâs fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet youâre taking all of him without protest. because thatâs just how you like it.Â
once youâve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name.Â
âyeah, baby?â he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. thatâd be the one difference between them â jake wonât be that stupid. âfeels good huh?â
you canât even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises whatâs happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back.Â
you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldnât lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. youâve popped off twice and heâs barely gotten started.Â
jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive.Â
âcâmere, baby, youâre doing so well,â he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. âyouâre gonna take more for me. right?â
you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.
jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew youâd fallen in love with jay.Â
he wants to see it happen for himself.Â
jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. heâs chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he canât help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him.Â
jakeâs vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until heâs spilling out inside of you. heâs so possessed he doesnât even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?
âja..â you try to say his name, trailing off halfway.Â
he opens his eyes â not even realising they closed â as he looks down at you. youâre even more gone than he is. do you even realise that itâs not your ex fucking you stupid right now?Â
with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?
jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jakeâs tongue.Â
âj-jaâ! jaâ jaâ!â you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jakeâs groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like youâre saying jay.Â
j-jay! jayâ jayâ!
heâs done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay.Â
âkeep on saying that, baby,â jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you â right until youâre letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until heâs releasing your clit with a wet pop.Â
he lifts himself up again until heâs at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind.Â
âhold it.â he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. âopen, baby.â
you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you.Â
âyou gotta return the favour, yeah?â he only hopes you donât notice how breathless he is, how heâs just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasnât putting on this whole jay persona, heâd be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now.Â
you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now.Â
jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until heâs shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks heâs ready for yet another round.Â
before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands.Â
âoh no, no, hey,â jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. âbaby, did i hurt you? did iââ
âno, jake,â you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. âyou didnât do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i justââ another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.
what you donât tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and youâre sure you mustâve even said your exâs name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man whoâd put you there.
everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you donât miss him, you donât still love him. itâs just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them.Â
âiâm so sorry,â you sniffle. âjake.â you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who youâre with.Â
âno, no.â he shushes you, stroking your hair. âitâs okay, thereâs nothing to be sorry for.â
he really is too perfect for you. you donât know how youâll ever deserve someone as pure as him.Â
âi love you.âÂ
jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that youâre not serious. âwhâ you.. you mean that?â
âi do.â you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. âi love you, jakey.â
itâs the first time heâs heard it from you. it might be too early, but you donât care. nothingâs too early if itâs all fate, all meant to be.Â
âi love you more.â he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âmore than you could ever know.â
your body stiffens as youâre suddenly transported back in time â living out a once fond memory with jay, how heâd said those exact words back after youâd said you love him first.Â
jayâ no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.
jake wasnât him, heâd never be him. what were you tripping for?
