(박성훈) college au. professor!sunghoon × student!reader
“You’re mine now. . . My perfect little pet.”
synopsis: you are a university student completely obsessed with your professor, Park Sunghoon. From the very first lecture, you begin craving his rare words of praise. Soon you’re wearing tighter and shorter outfits just to catch his eye, all while secretly writing your most filthy and forbidden fantasies about him in your private notebook. Until one day, you accidentally leave that notebook behind and he finds it. Now Professor Park knows exactly how desperate you are for him — and he’s done holding back.
a/n: heyy!! this is my first post here, so I'm a bit nervous, but I hope you all like it. any feedback is welcome, I'd really appreciate it <3 happy reading.
comment here to join the tag list! .𝜗𝜚 ݁˖
You walk into the lecture hall on your first day of the semester and choose a seat near the exit because you’re not expecting anything special from an Advanced Ethics class—until the door opens and Professor Park walks in.
He looks almost too young to be a professor, yet he carries an intriguing air of authority. The moment he begins to speak, introducing the course in a low, calm voice, you’re instantly hooked. Something deep in your stomach twists with sudden heat.
You spend the entire class staring at him, barely able to take any notes. He doesn’t smile once during the introductory lecture, and there’s something magnetic about it. He doesn’t seem to care about being liked by his students—he’s simply there, doing his job with strict discipline.
You’ve never been attracted to a professor before, but there’s something about him that captivates you instantly. Maybe it’s the way his biceps flex when he gestures while explaining something, or the fact that he seems almost too cold and professional.
By the end of the class, you feel an intense wave of jealousy over the measured praise he gave to other students. You want him to praise you. You want him to notice you. You want to be his favorite student.
Later that same day, back in your dorm, you make your first diary entry about Professor Park:
"Today I met Professor Park and my God, he’s so attractive. The way his thick eyebrows furrow when he’s explaining something… it honestly got me a little wet. I’m going to try to get his attention in the next classes."
You start sitting in the front row from that day forward, taking real notes and listening attentively to everything Professor Park says.
Throughout the week, you write more entries in your diary:
"God, the way his voice drops when he’s explaining something… I keep imagining him using that same low tone while he tells me exactly what to do on my knees. His hands look so big, with those long fingers. I wonder how they would feel gripping my hips or squeezing my thighs…"
"I want him to bend me over the desk after everyone leaves, lift my skirt, and fuck me hard. I’d stay so quiet for him… or maybe he’d fuck me even harder if I moaned his name out loud? Either way, I just want his cock to stretch me open."
By the end of the first week, he already knows your name because you answer a question correctly in class, where he simply replies with a neutral "Correct," but it’s enough to make your stomach flip.
Still, you want more. Knowing your name isn’t enough — you need all of his attention. So you decide to try something new in the second week.
────────
You wake up earlier to put extra effort into your makeup and outfit. For your first attempt, you go for something natural — soft mascara, a light blush, and a touch of lip gloss. You pair it with a blouse with a subtle neckline and a medium-length skirt that falls just at your knees.
Sitting in the front row, you raise your hand several times, making intelligent and well-thought-out comments because you actually studied for it. When you do, you receive a "Good point" from him, accompanied by a small approving smile. It’s enough to make your heart race.
In the next class, you try a bolder look — eyeliner, a proper lipstick instead of gloss, and a bit of contouring. He glances at you during the lecture, but he doesn’t compliment you. His expression remains neutral. When you make another smart comment, he simply nods. The conclusion is clear: he prefers the natural look, so that’s what you stick with.
Now it’s time to experiment with clothing. The following day, you wear a revealing outfit — a blouse cut low enough to show your collarbones and a shorter skirt that reveals your thighs. Professor Park’s eyes linger a little longer on your cleavage and bare thighs. It’s not obvious, but you notice. Cleavage and shorter skirts seem to work better, so you start leaning into that.
You keep pushing yourself — spending hours studying, pouring everything into every assignment, arriving early to class in hopes of catching a moment alone with him, craving his praise like it’s oxygen. With each passing class, your blouses get tighter and your skirts get shorter, exactly the way he seems to like.
Your efforts are paying off. His compliments come more frequently now — "Well argued" and "You captured the theme perfectly" — making you press your thighs together under the desk.
During one lecture, you participate actively, offering solid arguments and sharp answers, earning even more praise from Professor Park. When the class ends, he stops beside your seat. His gaze drops to your breasts for half a second before returning to your face.
"You’re showing great improvement," he says.
It’s enough to leave you soaked.
That night, your diary entry is filled with need:
"He looked at my tits today. He really looked. God, I want him to praise me while he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. I’d call him Daddy so easily — actually, that’s what I’m calling him from now on. I want to be Daddy’s favorite. I’d let him fuck my ass if that’s what it takes to be his good girl."
────────
After your morning class, you’re walking down the corridor when you spot him near the faculty offices, carrying a tall stack of papers and wearing glasses. Now you have a new fantasy — getting fucked by him while he’s wearing those frames.
You quicken your pace, pretending to be focused on something on your phone, and then "accidentally" drop your notebook right in front of him. "Oh no…"
You quickly drop to your knees, letting your short skirt ride up even higher. The view you give him is perfect: you on your knees, looking up with a submissive gaze, lips slightly parted, your breasts nearly spilling out of your low-cut blouse.
His crotch is right in front of your face. The fabric of his pants stretches tightly over the heavy outline of his bulge, the thickness clearly visible. This is exactly what you would see if you were sucking his cock. The fantasy of pulling that thick cock out and taking him down your throat while looking up at him with innocent eyes makes you shiver.
Professor Park makes no effort to help you up. He towers over you, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a rare expression of surprise on his usually neutral face. "Are you alright?" he asks.
Your eyes travel from the bulge right in front of you up to his face. You pick up the notebook and look up again from that perfect blowjob angle, whispering softly, "Yes, Professor. I’m just so clumsy sometimes."
For half a second, his gaze drops — taking in your glossy lips so close to his groin, the way your skirt has ridden up, and how your breasts look even more prominent from this angle. He clears his throat and forces his attention back to your face. "Be more careful next time."
You smile sweetly and finally stand up, tugging your skirt down even though it barely covers anything. "Thank you, Professor Park."
Your panties are soaked and your mouth is watering, the image of his bulge so close to your lips still burned into your mind.
He gives you one last lingering look before walking past you. If he had stayed even a second longer, you might have noticed the growing, hardening bulge in his pants.
That afternoon, you write in your diary:
"Holy fuck, I was literally on my knees right in front of him, exactly like I would be if I were sucking his cock. I wanted him to pull it out, grab my hair, and make me take every inch of that heavy length down my throat. I’m so wet just remembering how tall he looked standing over me. Please, Daddy… notice how desperate your good girl is."
────────
As the students begin to leave when the class ends, you deliberately take your time packing your things, hoping for another interaction with Professor Park. It works. He starts walking toward your seat and stops beside it.
"Miss, stay after for a moment," he says.
"Yes, sir," you reply. Your mind immediately wanders — imagining him locking the door, bending you over the desk, his strong arms pinning you down while his cock finally stretches you open as he calls you his "good girl."
Once the last students are gone, you walk up to him on shaky legs, your panties soaked and your nipples hard, clearly visible through the thin fabric of your tank top.
"Yes, Professor?" Your voice is soft and innocent, but your heart is pounding as hard as your clit. Please, touch me. Fuck me right here. I’ve been such a good girl for you, Daddy. The words echo loudly in your head.
His eyes meet yours before slowly drifting down, scanning you from head to toe. "I’ve noticed how much you’ve improved this semester, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to help one of the students who’s struggling. Sharing notes or a few short tutoring sessions would help a lot."
The disappointment hits you like a punch. You’re standing here dressed for him, dripping wet and trembling with need, and he’s asking you for academic favors. No locked door. No biceps wrapped around your throat while he fucks you hard. Just tutoring another student. "Of course, Professor Park. I’d be happy to help."
He gives a small nod. "Thank you. I’ll email you the details. Keep up the excellent work."
You linger for a few more seconds, hoping he’ll say something else, but he simply turns his attention back to the papers on his desk — clearly dismissing you.
While waiting for the email he mentioned, you write in your diary:
"He asked me to stay after class and I swore this was finally going to happen — that he was going to fuck me mercilessly on his desk, choking me between his biceps and calling me his good little girl, his desperate pet. But nothing happened and fuck, it’s driving me insane. I’m dressing like a slut for him and he still stays so cold and professional. Luckily, I don’t give up easily."
────────
You arrive early and take your usual seat in the front row. As soon as the lecture begins, you pull a cherry lollipop from your bag, unwrap it slowly, and bring it to your mouth. At first it looks innocent — but you make sure it’s anything but.
You suck on it gently at first, your tongue swirling around the shiny red head, then take it deeper, hollowing your cheeks slightly. Your eyes stay locked on him the entire time — watching the way his muscular arms move as he explains the material, the serious tone of his voice, and the way his thick eyebrows furrow in concentration.
Every time he turns toward your direction, you push the lollipop in and out between your lips in slow, suggestive movements, imagining it’s his cock instead. He pauses mid-sentence for half a second as his gaze fixes on your mouth, then smiles — flashing those sharp canines. Holy fuck. Your pussy throbs at the sight.
Feeling bold, you don’t stop. You lick the lollipop from base to tip with long, wet strokes of your tongue. Every time his eyes meet yours, you suck it deep while keeping eye contact.
When the lecture ends and most students leave, he looks straight at you while you’re still sucking on the lollipop and packing your things. "Miss, a word, please."
You stand up quickly and walk over to him, pulling the lollipop out slowly with a wet pop as you reach his desk. Your lips are glossy and shiny as you smile sweetly. "Yes, Professor?" You slip the lollipop back into your mouth while you wait for him to speak.
This time he doesn’t even try to hide it. His gaze drops to your glistening lips, then to your breasts — your hard nipples clearly visible through the thin tank top, no bra as usual. "Your latest essay was…" His eyes finally return to yours, a small mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Incredible."
"Thank you, Professor," you reply softly, matching his mischievous smile. "I’ve been working really hard to be your best student."
He nods. "Good. Keep it up and you’ll certainly become my favorite."
You give the lollipop one final slow lick while looking him straight in the eyes, then turn to leave, swaying your hips in those tiny shorts. You can feel his gaze burning into you the entire way out.
That night, you write in your diary:
"Fuck, the way he stared at my mouth while I was sucking that lollipop… I bet he was imagining how my lips would look wrapped around his cock. I wanted him to grab my hair and shove himself down my throat right there in front of everyone. Daddy looked so tense today, but he still praised my academic effort again. I feel like I’m getting so close to finally making him snap."
────────
The class starts as usual, with you sitting in the front row, paying close attention to Professor Park’s lecture as he discusses the topics in that controlled, precise tone.
In the middle of the lecture, Ni-ki — the guy you’ve been tutoring — leans over from the seat next to you and whispers in your ear, "Hey, are we meeting again today?"
You smile at him and nod, leaning in closer on purpose because you know Professor Park is watching. "Yeah, already missing me, Nishimura?"
Ni-ki stays close, chatting quietly with you while the class continues. You smile widely and laugh at everything he says — he’s so funny and goofy. "We can review that part after class if you want," you say sweetly, loud enough for Professor Park to hear.
Sunghoon’s reaction is subtle but noticeable. His jaw clenches, one thick eyebrow lifting for half a second as he watches the two of you. He pauses mid-sentence when he catches Ni-ki staring at your breasts, then continues with a noticeably deeper, colder voice. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s something different in them. Jealousy.
"Concentrate, please," he says to the entire class, but his gaze is locked directly on you.
After class, when most students have left, you stay behind, pretending to organize your notes. Professor Park walks over to your seat and stops right beside you, towering over you with his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his shirt.
"Miss… I appreciate you helping Ni-ki, but I’d prefer if tutoring sessions stayed professional and outside of my lecture time."
You look up at him with feigned innocence, biting your lower lip. "I’m sorry, Professor. I was just trying to help like you asked… I really want to be useful to you."
Those words make his cock twitch inside his pants.
"That’s fine, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your performance," he replies. "You’re one of my best students. I’d hate to see that change." He lingers for a second longer, staring at you, before stepping back.
"One of." That’s not enough. You want to be his favorite. The only one.
That day, you write:
"He was jealous today, it was so obvious. Daddy didn’t like me giving attention to another guy and fuck, that’s so hot — it left me soaked. I wanted him to snap right there, drag me to his office, put me on all fours and fuck me stupid. I need him to claim me, ruin me, remind me who I belong to. Please, Professor Park."
────────
Another class ends. This time, you don’t wait for everyone to leave so you can have a brief moment alone with Professor Park. In a rush to meet your friends at a nearby café, you end up forgetting your notebook on the desk — the one filled with all your filthy thoughts about him.
Professor Park is packing up his things when he notices the forgotten notebook on the seat where you sat during class. He picks it up, planning to return it to you next lecture, but decides to open it first to check for a name — just to make sure it’s yours. His eyes scan the first page, then the next, and the next.
"Today I met Professor Park and my God, he’s so attractive…"
"I want him to bend me over the desk after everyone leaves, lift my skirt, and fuck me hard."
"I want to be Daddy’s favorite. I’d let him fuck my ass if that’s what it takes to be his good girl."
"I wanted him to grab my hair and shove himself down my throat right there in front of everyone."
He freezes, jaw clenched tight, every muscle in his body tense as he keeps reading. Page after page of your explicit fantasies — the way you teased him with the lollipop, dropped to your knees in front of him, wore shorter and shorter skirts with tighter blouses, all of it deliberately done to provoke him.
With every new entry, his cock grows harder, throbbing painfully against the confines of his pants.
You only realize you forgot the notebook when you’re already halfway across campus. Panic floods through you instantly — every filthy thought, every "Daddy," every explicit fantasy is written in there. Your stomach twists at the thought of someone finding it and reading everything. You run back to the lecture hall as fast as you can.
When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar. Peeking inside, you see that Professor Park is still there.
Breathless, you push the door open. His eyes lock onto yours the second you step inside. The air feels thick, heavier than ever. His gaze is different now — darker, more intense, hungry. In that same instant, you know you’re fucked.
"You forgot this," he says in a low, serious voice. A cruel smile plays on his lips as he holds the notebook out toward you, but he doesn’t let go when you try to take it.
"Interesting reading…" He flips through the pages again and reads one of the entries out loud. "Please, Daddy… notice how desperate your good girl is." Then he lets out a low, mocking laugh — clearly amused by how desperate you sounded in those notes.
Your face burns with shame. The words get stuck in your throat. What excuse could you possibly give when everything is written so explicitly? "Professor… I—"
He closes the notebook with a sharp snap and pins you with a piercing stare that makes your entire body shiver. "We’ll discuss this later. In private."
He finally releases the notebook. The moment it’s in your hands, you turn and flee as fast as your trembling legs can carry you.
The rest of the day is pure torture. You can barely sleep that night, your mind racing with every possible consequence — and every possible thing he might do to you.
Later that evening, your phone vibrates with an email from him.
My office. Thursday, 4:30 PM. We need to discuss the contents of your notebook.
— Sunghoon Park.
On Thursday, you spend the entire day getting ready. You wear the tightest tank top you own — thin enough that your hard, needy nipples are clearly visible — paired with the shortest skirt you’ve ever worn, one that barely covers the curve of your ass.
At exactly 4:30 PM, you knock on his office door, your heart pounding so hard you feel dizzy.
"Come in," he says from inside.
You open the door slowly. There he is, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his broad chest, jaw clenched, a malicious smile on his lips and a hungry look in his eyes as they rake over your body from head to toe. The cold, professional mask he always wore in class is gone, replaced by something much darker.
"Lock the door and sit down," he orders, leaving no room for argument.
You obey with trembling hands, locking the door before sitting down, pressing your thighs together. You can already feel your panties getting wet. For a few long seconds, he just stares at you, his gaze lingering on your hard nipples straining against the thin fabric.
When his eyes finally meet yours, he speaks. "You wrote about wanting me to bend you over this desk. About my arms suffocating you. About calling me Daddy. About dressing like a desperate little slut just to get my attention."
You feel exposed, vulnerable, and shamefully aroused, your pussy throbbing.
"I didn’t… I mean, I—" The words die in your throat as he steps closer, towering over you.
"Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to stay professional?" he growls. "Watching you in class every day in those tiny skirts and tight tops. Reading how badly you want me to claim you."
Before you can respond, he grabs your waist and lifts you effortlessly onto his desk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them so he can step between them.
"Professor Park…" you whimper, your voice trembling with need and nervousness.
He kneels in front of you, eyes locked on yours as he pushes your skirt up and pulls your panties to the side, exposing your needy, dripping wet pussy. The first touch of his hot tongue against your folds makes you gasp sharply.
"Oh God—" you moan, gripping the edge of the desk.
Sunghoon eats you out like a starving man — with long, slow licks from your entrance to your clit, then sucking hard on the swollen bundle of nerves. Two long fingers slide deep inside you, curling perfectly to stroke that sensitive spot while his tongue works relentlessly.
"Sunghoon, fuck— that feels so good," you whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair. "I’ve waited so long for this…"
He growls against your pussy when he hears you moan his name so casually. The vibration sends shivers through your entire body. His fingers pump faster and deeper as he sucks your clit into his mouth. The pressure builds quickly until you cum hard, thighs trembling around his head, loud moans ripping from your throat as you soak his chin and the desk beneath you.
When he finally stands up, his lips are glistening with your juices. He’s breathing heavily, the massive bulge in his pants straining painfully against the fabric.
"Please, Daddy…" You spread your legs even wider, eyes glassy with tears of frustration and pleasure. "I need your cock. Please, fuck me."
Sunghoon steps forward, pressing his clothed erection firmly against your soaked entrance and rubbing slowly. You moan softly, rolling your hips against him desperately, chasing more friction, but he pulls away again.
"I’m not reckless enough to fuck you in my office," he groans, clearly fighting for control. "No matter how badly I want to bury myself inside this needy little pussy."
You let out a pathetic whine, eyes pleading. He leans in close, gripping your jaw firmly with one hand.
"Tonight. My apartment. 8 PM. If you want me to fuck you properly." He pauses, his voice low and dark. "I’ll send you an email with the address."
────────
You arrive at his building exactly at 8 PM, wearing the sluttiest outfit you own. Your pussy is already dripping down your thighs by the time you knock on the door.
Sunghoon opens the door dressed differently from usual — a simple black shirt and gray sweatpants that do nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his hard cock.
"Come in," He orders and you obey, the door closing behind you with a heavy click.
The second you step inside, his reserved professor mask finally shatters and he snaps.
He grabs you by the waist and slams you against the wall, his grip so strong it will definitely leave bruises. "You have no fucking idea what you’ve done to me," he growls, pressing his erection hard against your stomach. "Reading page after page of you begging to be my little whore. Calling me Daddy while thinking about my cock."
You moan, arching into him desperately. "Please… I need it. I’ve needed your cock for so long."
He spins you around and bends you roughly over the back of the couch. Your tiny skirt rides up, exposing your bare, dripping pussy — you didn’t even bother wearing panties. His large hand comes down hard on your ass, making you cry out.
"Look at this desperate little cunt," he says, stroking the spot he just spanked. "Dripping all over my floor." Two thick fingers slide through your folds and push deep inside you without warning. You scream, pushing back against his hand as he fingers you hard, curling his fingers against that sweet spot while his thumb circles your swollen clit.
"You’re tighter than I imagined," he groans, pumping faster. "All those weeks teasing me in those tiny skirts and tight tops… you’re going to take every inch of Daddy’s cock tonight."
He pulls his fingers out, yanks your top up to free your breasts, and spins you around to face him. Before you can say anything, his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, demanding, almost desperate kiss — his tongue pushing past your lips to claim you completely.
You melt into him, moaning into his mouth while grinding against his hard cock. When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen and you’re panting.
He walks you backward toward the bedroom, still kissing you between steps, until the back of your knees hit the bed. Sunghoon throws you onto your back, pulls off his shirt, and shoves down his sweatpants — finally freeing his cock that springs out, thick and rock hard with pulsing veins along the shaft. Your mouth waters at the sight.
He climbs on top of you, grabs your thighs and spreads them wide. Without any ceremony, he lines up and thrusts deep inside you in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt in your soaked pussy. "Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight."
Then he starts fucking you hard — deep, merciless thrusts that make the bed creak and his heavy balls slap against your ass with every stroke.
You’re completely lost in it, moaning like a whore because he’s so big and the stretch is overwhelming. "Your cock is so big… you’re stretching me so good."
He leans down and kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you. His muscular body pins you to the mattress, his heat and weight dominating you the best way possible.
"You’re mine now," he growls against your lips. "My perfect little pet. This pussy belongs to me now."
Sunghoon presses one hand firmly on your lower belly and starts fucking you with slow but incredibly deep strokes. His cock is so long and buried so deep that you can clearly see the bulge moving under your skin with every thrust.
"I can literally see my cock bulging your tiny stomach. Feel that?" He thrusts harder, pressing down so you can feel the head of his cock pushing against his hand through your body.
You nod, sobbing with pleasure, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Yes, I feel it. You’re ruining my pussy, Daddy. I’m so full."
"My cock is bigger than your little womb can handle… but you’re still taking every inch like a good girl," he groans, almost hypnotized.
"Please, don’t stop," you beg desperately, voice breaking. He fucks you even deeper, one hand still pressing on the bulge in your stomach while the other pins your wrists above your head.
The pressure becomes unbearable until you can’t hold back anymore. You cum hard, screaming as your pussy clenches violently around his cock, squirting while he keeps fucking you through it. The sight and feeling push him over the edge too. He buries himself as deep as your body allows and fills you with thick, hot ropes of cum, groaning loudly as he empties himself inside you.
He slowly pulls out of you, his cock glistening with the mixture of both your cum. You’re panting, legs still trembling from the intense orgasm, when suddenly he flips you onto your stomach without warning. He grabs your hips and pulls your ass up, putting you on all fours.
"Arch your back," he orders. "I want to fuck you like the desperate little pet you are."
You obey immediately, arching your back deeply and presenting your wet, swollen pussy to him. This position leaves you completely at his mercy as his tall, muscular frame towers behind you.
He leans over you, one hand sliding down your spine until he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. With the other hand, he turns your head to the side and kisses you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch while his thick cock teases between your ass cheeks.
You moan into the kiss, melting under him. "Daddy… fuck me harder," you beg breathlessly against his lips.
He kisses you even more aggressively, biting your lower lip before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "Open your mouth."
You obey without hesitation, sliding your tongue out slightly. Sunghoon leans over you and spits directly into your open mouth — a thick string of saliva landing on your tongue.
You moan pathetically and swallow it all. "Thank you, Daddy…"
"Good girl," he praises with a wide smile, then spits into your mouth again. "Now take my cock."
He pushes you back down onto the mattress, grips your hips with both large hands, and thrusts into you with one brutal stroke. The new angle lets him bury every thick inch even deeper, stretching your tight pussy to its limit.
"Fuck!" you cry out, fingers gripping the sheets. "You’re so deep like this… Oh my God."
Sunghoon starts fucking you hard, his hips slamming against your ass with loud, wet slaps that push your body forward with every thrust. His thick cock rubs against your cervix and every sensitive spot inside you — the obscene sound of your soaked pussy getting fucked filling the room.
He keeps one hand on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress while the other spanks your ass hard in time with his thrusts, leaving red marks on your skin. "Take it," he groans. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked like a bitch in heat by your professor."
"Yes, yes, Daddy." you moan loudly, pushing your hips back desperately to meet his rhythm. "Fuck me harder… I love being your little slut."
He leans over you again, chest pressed against your back, and continues pounding into you mercilessly. Every thrust makes your ass ripple and your tits bounce beneath you.
Sunghoon reaches around and grabs one of your breasts roughly, pinching your nipple without slowing his punishing pace — his heavy balls slapping against your clit with every stroke.
"You’re so fucking tight like this," he growls against your ear, biting your shoulder. "This tiny pussy was made for my cock."
You’re sobbing with pleasure, completely lost in how deep and hard his huge cock is fucking you. "I’m gonna cum. Sunghoon, please... can I cum?" you beg, voice breaking.
He slaps your ass hard again, making you squirm under him. "Cum on my cock like a good girl."
You scream into the mattress as your inner walls clench violently around him, the orgasm hitting you violently. He doesn’t slow down — he fucks you straight through it, chasing his own release.
Until he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with another huge load, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum deep inside your pussy in heavy spasms.
You’re still trembling and leaking his cum when he pulls out and suddenly flips you onto your back so he can look at your ruined body and flushed, wrecked expression. "On your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough.
You obey instantly, like you always do. Sunghoon reaches over to the nightstand where he keeps his satin ties and grabs a couple. "Hands behind your back, pet." He ties your wrists securely behind you and then binds your ankles, leaving you completely helpless on the bed.
The silk bites into your skin just tight enough to make you fully at his mercy. When you test the restraints and realize you can’t escape, a needy moan escapes you.
"Look at you…" he says, slowly stroking his cock, which is already rock hard again. "All tied up and dripping for me. Exactly how a desperate little slut should be.:
You whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing. "Daddy, please..."
He lets out a cruel laugh, then grabs you by the hair and drags you off the bed to the large full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. He positions you on your knees right in front of it, facing your own reflection. "Eyes open," he whispers into your ear. "Watch what I do to you."
You stare at the obscene image in the mirror: your wrists and ankles bound, your skirt bunched uselessly around your waist, tits exposed, and your face flushed with lust.
Sunghoon kneels behind you, his muscular body making yours look tiny. He yanks your head back by the hair and thrusts into you with one brutal stroke, burying his cock to the hilt.
He starts fucking you hard, deep and punishing thrusts that jolt your bound body forward. His biceps flex as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke. The mirror shows everything — your tits bouncing, your face twisted in pleasure, and his body dominating you from behind.
"Fuck, look how well your tight little pussy takes me," he groans. One hand wraps around your throat while the other arm snakes around your upper body. He pulls you back against his chest, smothering you between those massive biceps while he keeps thrusting. Your vision starts to blur from the overwhelming pleasure as you gasp for air, forced to watch yourself being destroyed in the mirror.
Sunghoon unties your ankles and in one smooth motion stands up, lifting your body like you weigh nothing. He presses you against the mirror, your tits and cheek smashing against the cold glass as he enters you from behind again.
The mirror fogs up with your hot breath while he fucks you relentlessly. "You teased me for weeks," he growls in your ear, one hand still gripping your throat. "Now you get to watch yourself get fucked like the whore you are." His hips slam against your ass with loud, wet smacks, his cock driving incredibly deep in this standing position.
You cum hard, screaming as your pussy squirts around his cock and your legs shake violently, but he doesn’t stop. He pulls out, spins you around, and lifts you onto his cock, impaling you completely again. His strong arms do all the work, bouncing your bound body up and down on his thick shaft.
"Beg for it," he demands.
"Please, Daddy, cum inside me again," you sob desperately. "Fill your good girl up… I need it so bad."
He buries himself to the hilt one final time and floods your pussy with another massive load, pumping rope after thick rope of hot cum until it overflows around his cock and drips down your ass.
Still buried deep inside you, he carries you back to the bed and sits you up on the edge of it, standing in front of you. "Open that pretty mouth. Time to clean Daddy’s cock and get your throat fucked."
He doesn’t wait for you to do it. He simply grabs your hair and slaps his cum-covered cock against your tongue a few times before shoving it straight down your throat. You gag hard, your eyes watering instantly as he forces his thick length past your gag reflex.
"That’s it, swallow it all, you filthy little cocksucker," he groans, starting to thrust deep and steady.
You gag and drool uncontrollably, thick strings of saliva running down your chin and dripping onto your tits and thighs. Glk- glk- glk. The obscene sounds fill the room as he fucks your face mercilessly.
You pull against the restraints around your wrists, trying to escape while moaning around his cock. When he pulls out briefly to let you breathe, you gasp desperately. "I’m your dirty little whore, Daddy."
He groans and thrusts back in, fucking your throat harder and faster while holding you in place. Tears stream down your face, but you keep looking up at him submissively. Finally, with a deep groan, he buries himself to the hilt and cums straight down your throat. You swallow every drop like the good girl you are, coughing and gasping for air when he finally pulls out.
Sunghoon releases the restraints from your wrists and sits on the edge of the bed, his cock still hard and glistening, slapping against his stomach. He pulls you onto his lap, gripping your hips possessively. "Get on top, baby," he says, his voice low and rough. "I want to watch you ride Daddy’s cock."
Even though you’re trembling and completely wrecked, you obey. You straddle him, align his cock with your soaked entrance, and sink down slowly, moaning loudly as he stretches you open again. "Fuck… Daddy, you’re so deep like this," you moan, bottoming out with a shaky breath.
Sunghoon leans back slightly, supporting himself on his hands, his thick dark eyebrows furrowed as he watches you. One large hand immediately slides up to your breast, squeezing it hard while his thumb brushes over your sensitive nipple. "Ride me. Show me how badly you wanted this."
You start moving, rolling your hips and bouncing on his cock. He slaps your ass hard. SMACK. the sharp sound echoing as your flesh jiggles. "Faster," he demands, slapping the other cheek even harder. "Don’t be shy. Fuck yourself on me like you wrote in that dirty little notebook."
You ride him harder, your tits bouncing wildly in front of his face. He leans forward and catches one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his other hand keeps spanking and groping your ass, occasionally spreading your cheeks so he can feel how tightly you’re stretched around him.
"Oh my God, Sunghoon!" you moan loudly, head falling back. "Your cock feels so good… I love your cock. Please, spank my ass harder!"
His big hand comes down again and again, turning your ass red while his other hand kneads and pinches your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The mix of pain and pleasure makes your pussy clench around him.
"Look at you… bouncing on your professor’s cock like a whore. These pretty tits are mine." He squeezes them together, burying his face between them, biting and sucking marks into your soft skin.
You’re losing control, riding him relentlessly while grinding your clit against his pelvis with every bounce. "I’m gonna cum, please. Can I cum?" you beg.
He slaps your ass one more time, hard enough to make you scream, then grips your hips tightly and starts thrusting up to meet you. "Cum," he growls against your chest. "Cream all over Daddy’s cock."
You scream loudly, your body shaking violently as your pussy clenches and squirts around his thick shaft. Sunghoon doesn’t stop — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, spanking your ass and playing with your bouncing tits until he groans deeply and buries himself inside you, pumping another thick load into your already overflowing pussy.
Sunghoon gently rubs your wrists and ankles before lifting your trembling body along with his and carrying you in his arms to the bathroom.
Under the hot streams of water, he presses your body against the tiles, pinning you there. "Can you take one more? Just one more for me, hm? I know you can, baby…"
You nod quickly. "I can."
He lifts one of your legs, lines himself up, and slides back into your sore, dripping pussy. The water cascades over both of you as he fucks you deep and steady, one thick arm wrapped loosely around your throat from behind while his other hand gropes your breasts and rubs your clit.
"You’re such a messy little whore, but so good for me," he whispers in your ear, thrusting harder. "Still leaking my cum down your thighs."
"Yes, I’m yours," you whimper, pushing back against him. "Fill me again, please. Breed me. I want to be yours forever, Daddy."
He pins you harder against the wall until you cum again, moaning his name. With one final deep thrust, he groans and releases inside you once more, making the mixture of cum and water run down your legs.
Sunghoon turns off the water, dries you carefully, and kisses every mark he left on your body. He carries you back to the bed and pulls you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest.
"You were incredible tonight," he murmurs softly, stroking your hair. "Such a good girl for Daddy. You took everything so well."
You nuzzle into him, your voice low and exhausted. "Thank you, Daddy… I loved every second. I’m yours now."
He massages your sore wrists, thighs, and neck with gentle, careful hands, then brings you water and holds the glass while you drink. He cleans between your legs again with a warm cloth, kissing your forehead the whole time.
"Stay here with me," he whispers, wrapping you in those strong arms. "Rest, baby."
You fall asleep feeling safe and warm in his arms, completely owned, satisfied, and already dreaming about the next time.
────────
You wake up slowly, your body sore and marked — your thighs sticky with dried cum, your throat still a little raw. You smile to yourself like a lovestruck idiot, then slip out of bed wearing one of his dress shirts that you stole from the chair in the room.
You walk toward the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee. He’s standing at the counter, so you quietly approach from behind and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his back.
"Good morning…" you murmur, kissing his back softly. "Thank you for last night. I can still feel you everywhere."
Sunghoon doesn’t turn around immediately. He stays still for a moment, then lets out a low, cold laugh that makes your stomach twist.
He finally turns, wearing that same reserved, stern expression he used during lectures as he looks at you like you’re something both pathetic and mildly amusing.
"You’re already acting clingy?" he says, his voice low and cruel. "One night of getting your holes ruined and you think you can play housewife?"
Your cheeks burn, but you still try to be sweet, pressing your body against his and rubbing your hard nipples against his chest.
"Sorry… I just feel so close to you right now," you whisper softly, looking up at him with big, adoring eyes. "I love being your good girl."
He reaches out and grabs your chin roughly, forcing your head back with a firm, almost painful grip. "Look at you," he says mockingly. "So desperate and sweet in the morning. You were screaming like a whore last night, begging Daddy to fill your insides with cum… and now you’re cuddling up to me like a lost puppy?"
Before you can respond, he releases your chin and turns back to the counter as if you don’t even deserve his attention. But you keep trying, stepping forward again and wrapping your arms around him from behind. "Please, Sunghoon… I really like you. It’s not just the sex—"
"Enough," he interrupts sharply. He turns again, grabs you by the waist, and easily lifts you onto the kitchen counter, spreading your legs. The shirt rides up, exposing your bare, still-swollen pussy. "You’re not going to play sweet and domestic after writing page after page about wanting to be my personal cum dump."
"But… I want to make you happy," you say softly, your voice trembling.
He leans in close, trapping you on the counter. "Then stay quiet and keep that little cunt ready for whenever I want it," he says coldly. "Sweetness doesn’t suit a desperate pet like you. Now spread your legs wider and stop pretending you’re anything more than my dirty little secret."
He delivers a hard, cruel slap directly to your clit, making you gasp. Then he steps back, leaving you sitting there exposed, dripping, and aching on the counter while he casually drinks his coffee.
── synopsis: everyone on campus knows Heeseung’s rules — no commitments, no second chances, and no girl stays long enough to matter. As basketball captain he collects hearts like trophies and leaves them broken behind him without a second thought. You watch him from far away, knowing you should stay away, but you don't just want to be another name on his list. You want him to choose you and see only you. The problem is you're completely inexperienced, a virgin in every sense, while the girls around him know exactly how to move, how to flirt, and how to keep him hooked. So you make a plan: practice with other guys, learn the skills you're missing, and completely reinvent yourself to finally make Heeseung notice you — and choose you over everyone else.
warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni), popping cherry, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, panty gag, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary, doggy style, against the wall, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting on pussy, praise kink, light degradation, dirty talk, begging, edging, possessiveness, manhandling, public/risky sex (library + locker room), risk of getting caught, use of pet name (babe, doll, angel, baby, slut, good girl), mostly dom!members with a bit of dom!reader.
wc: 18k ┆ a/n: I know some of you are waiting for part 2 of teacher's pet, but I was just so excited to write this one that I decided to work on it first (the idea actually came to me while listening to drake's 'practice') this ended up being way longer than I expected, but anyway... I hope you guys like it. happy reading! (btw if you guys want to request any fics, my asks are open!)
comment here to join the tag list! .𝜗𝜚 ݁˖
Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.
He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.
Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.
He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.
You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.
Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.
The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.
You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.
"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.
So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.
You’re going to practice.
You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.
────────
You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.
With a deep breath, you knock on the door.
Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."
You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."
He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"
You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.
"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."
Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.
"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."
Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"
Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."
Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"
His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."
He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"
"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."
Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"
You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."
Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."
He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"
Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."
Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."
You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."
You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.
"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."
As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.
Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"
"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"
"Yes," you sigh.
"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."
With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.
Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.
"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."
You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.
"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."
You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.
"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.
"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.
Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.
"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.
For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"
You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."
He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."
You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.
"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."
Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"
"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.
He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."
When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.
Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.
"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.
"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.
"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."
With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.
Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."
You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."
He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.
The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.
"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.
You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.
He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."
You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."
Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."
You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."
One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."
You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.
His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."
Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."
"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."
He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.
"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."
"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.
"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."
Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.
"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"
"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."
He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."
Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."
You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."
Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."
Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.
"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.
He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.
"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.
"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.
The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"
Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."
You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."
To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."
Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.
"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."
"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."
Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.
You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.
"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.
"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."
Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.
"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."
You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.
"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."
"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.
Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.
For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."
You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."
The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.
But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.
Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.
You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.
So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.
────────
That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.
You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.
The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.
That’s when you see him.
Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.
Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.
You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.
He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"
You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."
A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.
You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.
He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."
You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."
Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"
The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"
He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."
You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."
His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."
This is it — the next step.
You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.
The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.
"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"
"Maybe both."
Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.
You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."
He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."
His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.
You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."
Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.
"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.
He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."
Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.
You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.
His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"
Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."
Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.
"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"
You swallow hard and nod again.
"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."
"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."
He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."
You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.
His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."
Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.
"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."
You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."
You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.
His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."
Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.
"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."
You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.
"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."
You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."
Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.
"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."
You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.
"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"
You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.
With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.
Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."
You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.
"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."
He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.
"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."
The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"
You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."
A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."
Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.
"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.
You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.
"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."
He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.
"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.
Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."
Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.
"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."
He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"
"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.
With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.
You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.
"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."
You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.
He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."
Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.
One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."
His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.
Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"
"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."
He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."
You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."
His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.
Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.
Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."
────────
Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.
The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.
Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.
"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"
Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."
Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."
"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."
You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."
His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.
Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."
You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.
When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."
He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.
"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."
"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."
Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."
You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.
"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.
The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."
Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."
You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."
He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.
Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."
He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."
You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."
One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."
With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."
You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.
Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."
You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.
For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."
You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.
"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."
He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."
You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.
Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.
The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.
Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.
Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."
The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."
You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.
Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.
"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."
Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"
You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.
"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."
You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.
"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.
"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.
"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."
Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.
You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"
He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."
Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.
"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"
You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.
His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."
You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.
Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."
A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."
He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."
Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."
That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.
────────
The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.
When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.
A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.
More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.
When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."
You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."
Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"
There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."
If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."
"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"
"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."
Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."
His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."
He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."
He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.
Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.
Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.
He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.
He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.
"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.
Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.
He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.
Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.
Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.
Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."
He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."
You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.
You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.
It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.
"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.
The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.
Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.
Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.
He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.
Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"
You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.
Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"
Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.
Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.
Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.
You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."
"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.
He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."
"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."
He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.
"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.
"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."
You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.
"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."
You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.
You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."
With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."
The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.
Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.
After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."
You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."
Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"
────────
The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.
You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.
When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.
Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.
Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.
"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."
You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.
Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."
Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."
You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.
"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."
You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"
Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."
Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."
"Yeah… I’d like that."
Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.
Now it’s just you and Heeseung.
He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"
You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.
Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.
Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."
He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.
Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.
The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.
There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.
His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.
"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.
Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.
A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.
"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.
With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."
You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.
Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.
"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.
Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"
He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."
"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."
"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."
That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."
He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."
He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.
"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.
When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."
It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.
With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.
You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."
Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."
His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.
Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"
You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.
It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.
You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."
Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.
Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."
You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.
His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.
When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.
"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."
You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.
He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.
The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.
He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"
"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."
He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.
Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.
When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."
Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.
Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."
You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."
He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."
You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."
Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.
On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."
"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."
Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.
Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.
Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.
Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.
Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.
"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."
You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."
You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.
"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"
Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."
So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.
You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.
'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."
Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."
You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."
Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."
You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."
The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."
Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.
You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.
"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."
────────
Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.
You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.
Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."
You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."
"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."
"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.
You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.
Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.
In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"
You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."
Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."
"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."
Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.
The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.
"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."
You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.
"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."
He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.
When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.
"What the fuck were you doing in there?"
You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.
"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."
You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.
During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.
Heeseung:
I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.
Come over.
Baby, answer me.
I know you’re getting these.
Don’t play games with me.
Stop fucking ignoring me.
Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."
He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.
────────
You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.
And you realize you want that freedom too.
Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3
synopsis: you're moving into your college apartment when a handsome guy helps you with your heavy boxes on the stairs. He turns out to be Jay, your older neighbor — a lawyer who quickly becomes part of your new life. He listens to you ramble for hours but never offers much about himself, and you tell yourself it's fine, that everyone has boundaries. Being with him feels too right to question, so you let yourself fall anyway, completely lost in him and blind to what's right in front of you until it's too late.
includes: student!reader x lawyer!jay, age gap (not specified), neighbors to lovers (?), lots of domestic fluff mixed with rough sex, slow-burn buildup before the smut, explicit sexual content (mdni), big dick jay, size kink (emphasis on thickness, length, belly bulge, stretching, etc.), cockwarning, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, multiple orgasms, spitting in mouth, overstimulation, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, riding, missionary, spooning sex, car sex, doggy, spanking (punishment), manhandling, dirty talk, nipple play, soft dom!jay, brief mean dom jay, aftercare, pet names (princess & baby).
wc: 19.2k ─ a/n: ngl i'm so insecure about this... it took me forever to finish because i was running out of creativity and kept giving up, but i finally did it! really hope you guys like it anyways. i'd really appreciate any feedback! happy reading <33
comment here to join the tag list! .𝜗𝜚 ݁˖
You have been waiting for this moment for months, even years. You are finally moving out. It is because of college, but still, it is a new beginning far from home — a brand-new chapter in your own space. A mix of excitement and nervousness settles in your chest, because living alone requires a lot of responsibility, and you are not sure if you are ready to handle it all.
For the past five minutes, you have been staring at the mountain of boxes crammed into the trunk and backseat of your car like a game of Tetris. You are wondering how you are going to carry so many boxes up to the third floor where your apartment is. With a deep breath, you finally grab one of the boxes, and immediately stagger under its weight.
"Maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience" reads the sign taped to the elevator doors.
Drops of sweat form on your temples, down the back of your neck, and pool on your spine, making your shirt stick to your skin. Of course it would be hot as hell on the day of your move, and of course the elevator wouldn't be working — talk about lucky.
You take another deep breath, hug the box against your chest, and begin climbing the stairs slowly, careful not to lose your balance.
Your arms are trembling and your breathing is almost as heavy as the box by the time you finally reach the first floor, forcing you to set it down for a moment to rest. But just as you pick it up again, mentally preparing for the next flight of stairs, the sound of footsteps coming down from above catches you off guard.
A man is coming down the stairs. He’s tall, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. His jaw is sharp — probably sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen. He looks so put-together that you suddenly feel embarrassed by your sweaty face and disheveled state.
Seeing you, he stops immediately, his eyebrows furrowing with mild concern. "Whoa. Let me help you with that." His voice is low and smooth, the kind of voice that sends a shiver down your spine before you can stop it.
You blush, heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Oh, you don’t have to. I can manage—"
"I insist," he replies gently, waiting with his hands hovering, giving you the choice. You let him take the box, and the relief is immediate — your arms practically sing in gratitude. He lifts it as if it weighs nothing, cradling it against his chest with just one arm — the same box you were struggling to carry with both. "I’m Jay, by the way."
You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead and try to fix your hair because you want to look at least a little presentable for the incredibly good-looking man helping you. "Thank you so much. I’m y/n. I’m moving in today, to apartment 3B."
Jay’s expression softens, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "3B? That’s interesting. I live right next door, in 3A." He nods toward the stairs. "Looks like we’re neighbors." He gestures ahead. "After you."
You both climb the remaining stairs together and your heart still pounding. You can’t tell if it’s from the physical effort earlier or from his company. Because of the nerves, the words start tumbling out before you can stop them.
"I’m starting college this week. I got accepted and everything, and I was so excited when I found this apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived away from home, so I’m really thrilled… but also kind of terrified? Like, what if I get lost on campus? What if my classes are way harder than I expected? I brought way too much stuff, I’m kind of attached to my things, you know?" You let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry, I’m probably talking too much. I get really chatty when I’m nervous."
Jay glances at you as you walk, the box still balanced effortlessly in his arms. He doesn’t look annoyed — in fact, he seems amused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’re not talking too much. It’s a big change, but you’re doing great."
You bite your lower lip, watching him as you climb. There is something intriguing about him that sparks your curiosity. "And you? Are you a student too, or…?"
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I’ve already graduated. I work at a company downtown." He says it casually, offering no further details — which only makes you even more curious.
You reach the landing of the second floor and have to stop to catch your breath, while Jay doesn’t even seem slightly winded — it’s honestly impressive. "My parents helped me pack my bags, but they’re hours away now. It’s exciting, though. New city, new people. I just hope I don’t ruin everything."
"You won’t," Jay says gently. "Everyone feels like that at the beginning. The nervousness is normal. Besides, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. You’ll find your rhythm." He sets the box down carefully in front of your door. "Ready for another round?"
The words hit you like a spark. "Ready for another round." And before you can help it, your mind immediately drifts, imagining Jay on top of you, his strong body pressing you into the mattress, that same low voice murmuring the question against your neck while his hands pinned your wrists above your head. Heat flooded your face and settled lower in your belly.
You quickly shake your head, trying to push the thought away, desperately hoping your blush isn't too obvious. "Yes, let's do it."
He carries the rest of the boxes for you, going up and down the stairs multiple times. Meanwhile, you keep rambling nonstop about what you are studying, where you are from, and how you are feeling about this new phase of your life. He listens as if he genuinely cares, and even though you can’t quite place the age difference between you two, you feel surprisingly comfortable with him.
When the last box finally makes it through the door, you stand in the hallway with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Jay. Honestly. I don’t know what I would have done without you."
"Glad I could help. Moving is a big step. If you need anything else, I’m right next door." With that, he returns to his own apartment, leaving you surrounded by a sea of boxes that will clearly take hours to unpack.
A few days pass. You unpack — not everything, just the most important things. Your first classes are overwhelming. You get lost twice, accidentally walk into the wrong lecture hall, and sit through an entire lecture on quantum physics before realizing your mistake. But as embarrassing as it was, that mistake ended up leading you to a guy named Jake, who turned out to be incredibly nice and cute.
Now you are standing outside Jay’s door with a plate of cupcakes in your hands, ready to properly thank him for helping you with the move. The thing is, you can’t really bake; you tried making the cupcakes yourself but ended up burning the batch, so you had to go to the bakery on the corner to buy a box of them instead. They look a bit too professional, but since he doesn't know about your complete lack of kitchen skills, you're confident he won't suspect a thing — especially since you took them out of the box and arranged them nicely on a plate just to be extra safe.
You knock on his door, your heart pounding hard in your chest. He opens it a moment later, and his face lights up when he sees you. "Hey, neighbor," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "How are classes going?"
"Good," you reply, pushing the plate forward with a little too much force. "Great, actually. I only got lost twice today, which is an improvement." Your smile widens. "I brought these for you. For helping me with the move. I made them myself."
He looks at the cupcakes, then back at you, this time raising an eyebrow. "You made these?"
"Yes," you say, nodding firmly with your chin held high, trying to look confident. "From scratch. All by myself. I’m pretty good at baking."
He picks up one of the cupcakes and examines it, narrowing his eyes as he brings it closer to his face. You feel your determination starting to crumble.
"Really?" he asks with a smile, clearly testing how long you will keep up the lie. "From scratch?"
You hold his gaze for three whole seconds before you look away in embarrassment. Your shoulders drop and your face turns as red as a tomato. "Okay, fine. I bought them at the bakery on the corner. I took them out of the box so you would think I’m a functional adult who knows how to bake." You laugh at yourself. "I tried making them the other day, Jay. I set off the smoke alarm. I’m a danger to this entire building."
He throws his head back and laughs — not mocking you, but with a genuine, warm laugh that makes you feel less embarrassed about pretending you had baked the cupcakes. "Oh my God, you actually burned them?"
"I once burned noodles. I’m a total disaster in the kitchen."
He steps aside, still smiling, and gestures for you to come in. "Alright, come in. I’ll split one of these ‘homemade’ cupcakes with you. It’s the least I can do for someone who put so much effort into the task."
Your mom’s voice whispers in the back of your mind: "Don’t talk to strangers and definitely don’t go into their apartments, sweetheart." But is he really a stranger? He is your neighbor who carried all your boxes without complaining, and the way he stands there holding the plate of cupcakes with that smile makes you not hesitate at all.
You follow him inside. He leads you to the kitchen, grabs two small plates, and carefully unwraps a vanilla cupcake, splitting it in half before sliding one piece toward you.
"Have a seat," he says, pointing to the stool by the kitchen island.
"So, you mentioned you work downtown? What exactly do you do?" you ask as you sit down.
"I’m a lawyer," he replies, taking a bite of his half and nodding in approval. "Good choice of bakery, by the way."
You laugh, biting into yours. "A lawyer. That makes a lot of sense. You have this… I don’t know how to say it without sounding weird, but you have this organized vibe. Like you’re really good at arguing without even raising your voice."
His smile widens. "People have definitely told me that before that I have a ‘courtroom voice.’ It’s just my normal voice, only lower and slower. People tend to listen when you don’t yell."
"You’ll have to show me someday. If I ever get in legal trouble, I’ll know exactly who to call."
"Please don’t get in legal trouble. But if you do, I’m your guy."
The conversation flows just as easily as it did on moving day, and before you know it, you’re venting about your annoying professor, how massive the campus is, and all the times you’ve already managed to get lost. Between all the talking, the cupcakes completely disappear, leaving the coffee he made to sit cold and barely touched in your mug. There’s just something about him that instantly puts you at ease.
Despite the age gap, he never talks down to you or makes you feel small, which makes talking to him completely effortless. It’s just so comforting to have someone around who listens to you with that much care and attention — especially when he happens to be incredibly good-looking, leaving you totally hooked since the very first day.
As he walks you to the door when you finally get up to leave, he snatches a pen and a post-it note to scribble something down. Before you know it, he’s pressing the paper into your palm, his fingers brushing lightly against yours and sending a sudden warmth to your cheeks as he says, "Here’s my number, in case you ever need anything."
"Thank you," you say, smiling a little too wide.
He nods. "Anytime. Seriously. Don’t be a stranger."
────────
The grocery bags dig painfully into your fingers as you stand in the lobby, staring at the elevator doors that are still under maintenance. You look at them as if a miracle might happen — maybe if you stare for one more second, God will take pity and finally fix it. Nothing happens, of course, which makes you let out a long sigh of frustration. It has been days since you moved in and the elevator is still not working.
Your arms already hurt from carrying way too many bags. You definitely should have made two trips, but stubbornness won.
Reaching the second floor is pure torture; your arms are burning, those plastic handles are digging right into your palms, and the bags keep swinging awkwardly against your legs. Trying to stop and adjust your grip only makes things worse, to the point where you're seriously considering just sitting right there on the stairs and crying.
You finally collapse against the wall at the third-floor landing, letting the bags slide to the floor just to catch your breath. Right then, the door to 3A clicks open and Jay steps out — perfectly dressed for work with that annoyingly handsome lawyer look that instantly makes your stomach do a little flip.
He sees you immediately. For a second, his eyes take in the whole scene — your flushed face, the many overloaded bags, and the way you are leaning against the wall breathing heavily. A light, amused laugh escapes him. It is not mocking, just genuinely entertained, as if he expected nothing less from you.
"Carrying heavy stuff again?" he asks, walking toward you. "You really don’t learn, do you?"
Before you can even open your mouth to protest, he is already reaching for the bags, picking them all up at once as if they weigh absolutely nothing. His strong arms support the weight so effortlessly that his biceps press against the fabric of his dress shirt, making it completely impossible for you not to stare.
He turns and walks toward your door, carrying everything like it is nothing.
At your doorstep, Jay sets all the bags down carefully against the wall and turns to face you. His expression is calm, almost unreadable, but there is something more in it. You understand it the moment he starts speaking in a gently scolding tone. "You really shouldn’t carry so much at once," he says, crossing his arms. "It’s not safe and it’s clearly too heavy for you. Make two or three trips next time. Look at your hands, they’re all red. You were hurting yourself. Why? Because you’re way too stubborn, huh?"
You glance down at your palms, and they are red where the plastic handles dug in. "I was fine," you say, though even you do not believe it. "I almost made it."
"Don’t be stubborn."
"You sound exactly like my dad," you reply, crossing your arms to mimic him. "He’s always telling me I’m too stubborn for my own good."
Jay’s lips curve into a small smile. "Because you really are," he says with so much certainty that you cannot even argue back. "I’m serious. Next time, make multiple trips or just text me. I’d rather help than watch you struggle like that."
There is a protective tone in his voice that makes your cheeks warm with a mix of embarrassment and something else stirring low in your stomach. He is lecturing you like a child, but somehow it sounds kind of hot coming from him.
Then he glances at the grocery bags again. Now that the scolding is over, he seems to actually pay attention to what is inside them. He picks one up and looks inside — it is full of frozen meals, instant noodles, ultra-processed food, and canned goods. "Look, I know you’re in college now, but that doesn’t mean you have to live on processed food. It’s quick, sure, but you need real fresh stuff, not just things that come out of a can. Eating like this long-term isn’t good for you. You could get sick."
You blink, caught off guard by the extra lecture. He is fully in dad-mode now, and there is something strangely attractive about how seriously he takes it, like he is genuinely worried about you. "Okay, okay. I get it… I already told you I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so I just grabbed whatever is easiest so I don’t starve."
Jay’s expression softens a little. "I’m not trying to scold you. I just know how easy it is to fall into bad habits when you’re living on your own for the first time." He pauses and adds in a gentler voice, "If you ever need help in the kitchen, you know where to find me. I’m not exactly a chef, but I know how to make real meals."
Your mind wanders again because you can’t help it — you picture him in your kitchen, standing right behind you while teaching you how to cook, his hands guiding yours, the warmth of his body against your back…
"I’ll try to do better, I swear. Thanks for helping again. I think I owe you something now. How about brownies as a thank you this time?"
Jay shakes his head, chuckling softly. "You don’t owe me anything. Just be more careful next time." He glances at the heavy bags one more time. "Need help carrying these inside?"
You shake your head quickly. "I can handle it from here. I bet you’re busy, you look like you’re heading to work."
He checks the watch on his wrist. "Yeah, I have a meeting soon, but the offer stands anytime." Before turning to leave, he gives you one last firm look. "Take care of yourself."
After he leaves, you drag the bags inside, one half first and then the other, just like Jay suggested.
That night, you are sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you open your contacts. You saved Jay’s number, of course, but you have been telling yourself you don’t need to text him. It is an emergency-only number, but then you think about him carrying your groceries, the effortless way he took them from you, and the gentle scolding in his voice. Before you can overthink it, you are already typing a message to him.
────────
It is already past midnight and you have been staring at the same page of your textbook long enough for your vision to blur. Your brain has officially given up — it is impossible to absorb a single word more after hours of studying.
You are about to slam the book shut to take out your stress on it and drag yourself to bed when a soft knock sounds at the door. Your heart jumps slightly because you were not expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.
Another knock.
You get up slowly, stretching your sore muscles, and walk to the door. When you open it, Jay is standing there, looking different tonight without his formal work clothes and lawyer posture. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and is barefoot. He looks relaxed, holding a bottle of red wine — as if he made the sudden decision to knock on your door and came straight over without even putting shoes on.
"Hey," he says, his low voice making your stomach flip. His eyes scan over you, taking in your tired face, messy hair, and pajamas. Something in his expression softens.
"Hey," you reply softly, matching his tone.
"Hey," he repeats, then laughs when he realizes what he just did.
"Hey," you answer again, this time with a small smile. "You already said that."
"I know." He laughs again, shaking his head. "I just… it’s late."
"Very late."
"I know." He lifts the bottle slightly. "I bought this earlier today but… it’s no fun drinking alone."
You look at the wine, then back at him. The way he is standing there — messy hair, ridiculously handsome, and a little too soft — makes going back to bed suddenly seem like a very stupid choice. "Are you inviting me to drink with you?"
"I’m asking if you want to take a break. From everything."
The way he looks at you with those inviting eyes makes the decision easy, but you decide to tease him first. "I don’t usually drink with strangers."
"We’re not strangers," he says, his voice soft. Your teasing does not seem to faze him.
"We’re not exactly friends either," you reply, tilting your head and studying his reaction.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost lazy smile. "Then let’s change that."
You pretend to consider it for a moment, even though you were already fully committed the second you saw him at your door. "Mmm, okay. But let’s do it at your apartment. Mine is a mess."
His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Alright, whatever you want."
You grab your keys and follow him, also barefoot, to the door next to yours. His apartment is clean and organized as always, which makes the space feel strangely comforting. In the kitchen, he pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second and sending a spark through your body.
"Cheers," he says, raising his glass.
"Cheers," you repeat, gently clinking your glass against his.
You take a sip and let out a small, involuntary hum of appreciation — it is much better than you expected, probably the most expensive wine you have ever tasted. He gestures toward the living room. "Come on, let’s sit," he says, leading the way to the couch. You follow and settle onto his couch, trying to look more relaxed than you actually feel.
"This is nice," you say, taking another sip.
He sits on the other end of the couch — close enough to talk comfortably, but far enough to be polite. "It’s just wine." He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass.
"I mean relaxing… not thinking about classes for the first time."
He nods, understanding. "You think about classes a lot."
"It’s pretty much my entire life right now," you admit with an awkward little laugh, taking another sip.
"I remember going through that too. Everything revolving around exams, assignments, and exhausting responsibilities."
You tilt your head, studying him. "You make it sound like ancient history."
"Sometimes it feels like it." He takes a sip, not breaking eye contact. "I still remember when I was in college. I used to think a bad grade would ruin everything." A dry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. "There’s so much pressure."
Suddenly you find yourself wanting to know more about him, drawn by the experienced tone in his voice and posture. The wine is already loosening your tongue, so you ask. "How old are you, anyway?"
A small, playful smile appears on his lips. "I’m old enough."
You narrow your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. "That’s not an answer."
"It’s the only one you’re getting." He takes another sip.
"That’s annoying," you say, leaning forward slightly and resting your elbows on your knees.
"Maybe I am annoying." He shrugs, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that tells you he is enjoying this.
"You’re avoiding the question," you accuse, pointing a finger at him.
"I’m protecting my privacy."
"From what? Your neighbor?" You laugh, raising an eyebrow.
"Especially from my neighbor."
You pout, pretending to be hurt. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
"Everyone has secrets," he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.
"I don’t." You are not even sure why you say it. Maybe it is the wine, or the way he is looking at you right now.
"Everyone does." He holds his ground. "You have secrets too."
Your pulse quickens. "I don’t."
"Yes, you do."
You swallow hard. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with something you can’t quite name. You shift slightly on the sofa and notice how easy it would be to reach out and touch him. "So you have a lot of secrets, huh?" you ask, curious.
"Yes. Quite a few."
"Like what?" you press, wanting to see what he will give you.
"If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore." His lips curve into a slow, almost predatory smile.
"Touché." You raise your glass in an ironic toast, making him laugh.
A comfortable but heavy silence settles between you for a moment, thick with tension as you exchange glances and take slow sips. The wine is definitely doing its job — making your words come out slower, your laughter easier, and your body warmer.
"How old are you?" he asks, breaking the silence.
You blink, caught off guard. "Me?"
"Yes, you." He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You asked me, so I’m asking you back."
You smile, deciding to play his game. "I’m old enough."
A low, surprised laugh escapes him — rich and genuine. "That’s my line."
"I know." You take another sip to hide your smile.
"You stole my line."
You just shrug. "I borrowed it."
"That’s not how borrowing works."
"Yes, it is."
He laughs again. "You’re impossible."
"Am I? What else?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.
"You’re something," he says, his voice dropping again.
"What?" You are not sure what he means by that.
"I don’t know yet." He keeps his eyes fixed on you. "But I’m figuring it out."
You feel your cheeks heat up and take another sip of wine to try to hide your reaction. Jay, however, keeps watching you, and you can tell he noticed.
"You know what I’ve noticed?" By now your voice is a little slurred, so you have to be careful with the words that come out of your mouth.
"What?" His wine glass is almost empty. He sets it on the coffee table and turns all of his attention to you.
You lean back on the couch, turning to face him more directly. Your knee brushes against his thigh, but neither of you pulls away. "You don’t talk much about yourself."
He tilts his head, frowning slightly. "Don’t I?"
"No. You listen, but you don’t share. Like, you’re dodging right now. You give answers, but you don’t really answer."
"Well, I’m trying to protect myself," he says simply.
"Protect yourself from what?" You lean forward, genuinely curious now.
"From getting too attached." The words are honest, and you definitely were not expecting them.
You stare at him, your hand frozen halfway to taking another sip. "From what?"
"To you." His voice is almost a whisper, making your pulse race and your skin flush.
"Why would you get too attached to me?"
He stays silent for a moment, his eyes tracing over you as if he wants to memorize every detail. "Because it’s easy to get attached to you."
"No, it's not," you say, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escapes you.
"It is." His voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. "You just don’t see it."
You look away, feeling your entire body grow warmer. "You’re dodging again."
"I’m being honest." He leans forward slightly, and you can smell him now — a masculine scent mixed with the light sweetness of the wine.
You set your glass on the coffee table and turn to face him completely, the wine making you bolder. "You’re giving me half-answers. You’re telling me just enough to make me curious, but not enough."
He stays quiet for a moment, thinking. "What do you want to know?"
You hold his gaze. "Something real. Truly honest."
Silence stretches between you, thick with something heavy and suffocating that you can't quite name. Then he whispers, "I think you’re beautiful."
Your breath catches, and for a second you are not sure you heard him correctly. "That’s not—" you begin, but he interrupts you.
"It’s honest."
"You can’t just say that," your voice barely comes out as a whisper.
"I just did." His gaze doesn’t leave yours for even half a second.
"It’s too… direct."
"You asked for it." He says it simply, like it is the most natural thing in the world.
"You’re a tease," you say, not sure if you are complaining or not.
"Wait until you find out what else I am. You want to know me? Then make sure you’re ready."
You do not know what to say or what to do, so you look away, your face burning.
When he finally walks you to your door, you are a little unsteady on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle hand on your waist, and the touch is enough to send shivers through your body. "I’m fine," you murmur, even though you are swaying slightly.
"You’re drunk," he says, smiling at your messy state.
"I’m a little tipsy," you reply, giving him a blurry-eyed look.
"You’re drunk."
"It’s the same thing," you mutter dismissively.
"No, it’s not." He is looking at you with that warm, steady gaze that makes your knees feel weak.
You smile, light and tipsy. "Yes, it is."
At your door, you miss the lock twice. He laughs softly before helping you. "Thank you," you whisper. "For this, for the wine, the company, and everything."
His lips curve into a small, warm smile. "Good night, old enough.:
You smile again — you seem to always be smiling when he is around. "Good night, old man."
You step inside, close the door, and lean against it with your heart racing and your whole body warm from the wine and his words — still smiling like an idiot.
A few minutes later, you are curled up in bed when your phone buzz on the nightstand.
────────
You have been tossing and turning on the mattress for what feels like hours — shifting positions, turning to the other side, but nothing helps. You can’t fall asleep — you mind refuses to stop, racing with thoughts about exams, deadlines, and the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. You need air, you need to feel like you are not suffocating in that apartment, surrounded by boxes you haven't even had the time to unpack yet. There are several unfinished notes on your desk that constantly remind you that you are not doing enough, no matter how hard you try.
So you go up to the rooftop. The cool night air hits your face and lets you breathe again.
The city is an endless sea of lights — countless tiny glowing points in the darkness that remind you how small you really are. You sit on the old bench near the edge of the roof, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them like a shield.
Your thoughts slowly begin to calm as the minutes pass, and the knot in your chest loosens just a little.
Then the door creaks open behind you.
You turn quickly, your body instantly on alert and your heart racing. And there he is — Jay. He is wearing sweatpants and a black shirt, something about this casual, almost domestic look makes your heart skip a beat. He sees you immediately and stops. Surprise flashes across his face for a second before it turns into that familiar half-smile.
"Can’t sleep either?" His voice is low, almost intimate in a way that makes you shiver.
You shake your head. "I have too much on my mind right now…"
He nods as if he completely understands — and he really does. Walking toward you, he stops at a respectful distance before sitting on the bench beside you — close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, but not so close that he invades your personal space. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." You shift over a little even though there is already enough space.
He leans back, looking up at the sky, which is beautiful tonight with a full moon and stars shining brightly. The silence stretches between you. He doesn’t force conversation; he simply sits there observing the sky and the city with you. The silence is not awkward — it is actually comforting, especially when you are with him.
"I can’t sleep," you admit, breaking the silence with words that slip out before you can stop them. "I try, but my brain just won’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I start thinking about all the things I have to do, all the things I haven’t done, and all the ways I’m probably going to mess everything up."
"What’s on your mind?" His voice is gentle and patient as always, showing that he is ready to listen.
"Everything." You let out a shaky sigh. "College, exams, being away from my family for the first time… It’s a lot. I thought I was ready, that I could handle it. But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. Literally."
"I know how that feels," he says after a long moment of silence. His eyes stay fixed on yours, and there is something raw in them — something honest. "I remember feeling exactly like that. Like everything was too much and I was too small to handle it."
"You’re talking about yourself. That’s new," you say softly. "You always ask about me, but you never—"
"You already have enough on your plate," he cuts in gently.
You blink, caught off guard. "What?"
"You’re stressed about college, adjusting to a new city, and far from your family," he keeps his gaze steady on you, his expression sincere. "You don’t need to hear about my problems too."
"That’s not how it works." You shake your head as something warm and confusing blooms in your chest. "We’re supposed to share things. That’s what—" You pause, searching for the right word. "That’s what friends do."
"I don’t want to burden you when you’re already dealing with so much, and I certainly don’t want to make it worse."
You stay quiet for a moment, his words stirring something you cannot quite name — but it feels good. "That’s really… kind," you finally say.
"I try." He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.
The silence settles again, and you sit together quietly for a while longer. Then, out of nowhere, he tilts his head and asks, "How’s your succulent doing?"
You laugh at the unexpected question. "You’re asking about my plant?"
"I remember you mentioned it." He turns toward you — fully turning his body — with a small playful smile on his lips. "I bet you gave it a name."
You shake your head, still smiling. "I haven’t named it yet… but it’s still alive, which is honestly impressive."
"You’re supposed to water it," he says in a gently scolding tone.
"I know." You look away, feeling a little guilty about slowly killing a plant.
"But you forget." There is no judgment in his voice, only warm amusement.
"I forget." You laugh — something you always do when you are with him. "I have a lot on my mind, okay?"
"You’re a plant killer." He smiles, making you grin even wider.
"I’m not a plant killer! I’m just… forgetful. It is surviving, which is more than I can say about myself sometimes."
Something in your words changes his expression. It is still gentle, but now there is a hint of concern. "You’re doing better than you think."
You don’t know what to say, so you just look at him, with the words stuck in your throat.
"Does the succulent at least have company?" he asks after a moment, his voice light as always.
You blink, confused by the sudden question. "What?"
"Other plants, maybe some flowers, something to keep it company. Plants get lonely too."
You laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t think it gets lonely. It’s just a plant, after all."
"All living things have feelings. It definitely feels lonely," he says with so much conviction that you almost believe him.
"That’s not scientifically accurate," you reply, not entirely sure if what you are saying is accurate either.
"I never said it was." He shrugs. "I’m a lawyer. I deal with arguments, not facts."
"They’re the same thing."
"Not at all." He shifts closer to you on the bench, making sure you are listening. "Facts are objective. Arguments are subjective. I make a living turning subjective arguments into something that sounds like objective facts."
"That’s… something. And you’re so weird."
"I’m just concerned about your plant’s loneliness." His voice is incredibly serious, showing that he is taking this very seriously.
"You’re worried about my plant," you say, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, just like I worry about you."
You don’t know what to say again — Jay has a way of leaving you speechless. Your cheeks flush and you look away. "I’ve never received flowers before, anyway…" you say softly, the secret slipping from your lips.
Jay is not sure he heard you correctly. "What did you say?"
Even though you hesitate, you repeat it, louder this time. "I’ve never received flowers." You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "I had a boyfriend before, but he was an idiot. He never did anything romantic like giving me flowers or taking me for dates."
He stays silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you while your heart pounds loudly in your ears. He is thinking about something — you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. "Would you want to go on one? With me."
You stop breathing the moment you hear his words and everything around you seems to freeze. "What?"
"A date. A real date where I pick you up, open doors for you, and take you somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. It can just be two people spending time together. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
Your heart is beating so hard you are sure he can hear it, your mouth is dry, your palms are sweaty, and the words feel stuck in your throat again. Jay is asking you out on a date — a real date. The age gap has been on your mind since the day you met — he is a lawyer and you are still trying to figure out how to live on your own, but every interaction with him feels safe, like he truly sees you.
"Jay, I—" You stop, taking a shaky breath.
"You don’t have to answer right now," he says gently, giving you time to think.
"No, I—" You take another deep breath, and this time the words come out steady. "Yes. Yes, I want that."
His face transforms — a slow, warm smile spreads across his lips and reaches his eyes, making your stomach flip and your heart race just like always.
"Great," he says softly. "I’ll plan something."
A shy laugh escapes you as the reality of it sinks in. "What do you like to do on dates? I’m sure you’ve been on plenty."
He leans forward a little, resting his elbow on his knee. "I want to know what you like. That’s what matters right now, tell me your preferences so I can plan something good for you."
As you think for a moment, you suddenly feel embarrassed by how limited your preferences are. "I’m kind of picky, honestly. I like pasta, I hate anything too spicy, and I don’t like overly sweet desserts. Oh, and I’m not a big fan of seafood unless it’s fried. Is that too much?"
Jay listens attentively, nodding as if he is absorbing every detail. "Not at all. Being picky isn’t a problem, it actually makes it easier to get it right." He pauses, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "You know, for someone who’s a disaster in the kitchen, you have very specific opinions, princess."
The nickname lands softly between you — affectionate and teasing, with a hint of warmth. Your breath catches, your face flushes instantly, and you lower your head to hide the redness in your cheeks and the smile forming on your lips.
"I… You can’t just say that," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes.
"Why not?" He is smiling even more now, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It suits you. You have high standards and you know exactly what you want, even if you pretend you don’t."
You cover your face with both hands for a second, peeking through your fingers. "You’re going to make me regret saying yes."
"Too late," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. "You already said yes."
You lower your hands and meet his gaze, your heart racing in the best possible way. Jay stands up suddenly and offers you his hand. "Come on, it’s getting late and you have class tomorrow. Let’s get you back inside before you freeze."
You take his hand — which is so much bigger than yours — and let him help you up. He doesn’t let go afterward, his fingers stay intertwined with yours as you walk together toward your floor. The elevator is no longer broken, but you both take the stairs anyway, wanting to prolong the moment a little longer.
Stopping at your door, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand. “I'll text you about the date,” he says softly. "We’ll pick a night that works."
You nod, still feeling a little shy about everything. "Okay… Good night, Jay."
"Good night, princess."
────────
The next day, you are more nervous than you have ever been. Every notification on your phone makes your heart skip a beat, terrified that it is Jay confirming the date. Your stomach is in knots with a mix of panic and hope, even though you want to go on this date, you are still incredibly nervous about it.
Your phone buzzes while you are in the library trying to study. "Friday at seven? I’ll take care of everything. Just be ready for a proper night out."
The words "proper night out" send a shiver through you. He is taking this seriously, treating it as something special, even though he said it didn’t have to be romantic. Still, it means something. Smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt, you text back agreeing.
When Friday finally arrives, the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. In fact, they become even more restless as the time of the date gets closer. Hours before, you start getting ready — taking your time as you choose an outfit that makes you feel confident and beautiful. You spend extra time on your makeup, keeping it natural but enhancing your eyes and lips, making sure everything is perfect.
Exactly at seven, you take the elevator down. Jay had insisted on waiting outside the building instead of knocking on your door. "I want you to have the full experience," he had texted earlier, and the gesture made you smile despite your nerves. The moment you step out onto the sidewalk, you see him leaning against his sleek black car parked at the curb. He looks unfairly handsome in a tailored dark shirt and pants.
For a moment, he simply looks at you — slowly scanning from your face to your dress and back up again as his smile widens. "You look beautiful," he says, taking a step closer. "Really, truly beautiful."
Your cheeks flush quickly and a smile forms on your lips. "Thank you. You look really handsome too."
Before you can say anything else, he reaches inside the car and pulls out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "I remembered what you said on the rooftop…"
The bouquet is perfect, wrapped so beautifully that it makes your chest tighten. "Jay…" you whisper as you reach out to take the flowers. "They’re beautiful. I don’t even know what to say."
Without thinking, you give him a grateful hug. His arms wrap around you immediately, one hand resting on your lower back while the other gently caresses the nape of your neck. "You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy tonight. That’s all I want."
When you pull away, still smiling widely, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and asks, "Ready to go, princess?"
You nod, holding the flowers like a lifeline. He opens the car door for you, waiting until you are settled before closing it gently. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he looks at you with a playful smile. "Seatbelt, please. Safety first."
You laugh and buckle up. "Such a gentleman."
"Only for you."
The drive starts peacefully, soft music playing in the background as you talk. He asks about your day and teases you lightly when you admit that you spent half of your class daydreaming about tonight and that it took you forever to choose what to wear.
You can’t stop stealing glances at him — the way his hands rest easily on the steering wheel, those large hands with long fingers, and the way he looks at you at red lights as if making sure you are still real.
After a few minutes, you notice the city lights fading and buildings giving way to trees. "Where are we going?" you ask curiously, realizing he has been driving for a while — much farther than you expected. "This is pretty far from our building. Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"
Jay laughs, keeping his eyes on the road. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m just taking you to a place I love, and I think you’ll love it too."
The drive takes about thirty minutes, but when you finally arrive, the restaurant leaves you breathless. You immediately understand why he chose it — it is cozy and elegant, with a stunning view of the city. He reserved a intimate corner table with the perfect view.
He pulls out the chair for you, and as soon as you sit down, he leans in slightly to whisper in your ear, "Relax, okay?"
The dinner unfolds perfectly. You order pasta — creamy, exactly the way you like it — and he chooses a steak dish, offering you a bite from his fork with a raised eyebrow that feels far more intimate than it should. You talk a lot, and he listens as always, head tilted and eyes focused only on you.
You tell him about the friendships you are making in college, about the strange noise your AC is making, and absentmindedly mention the doorman. "He’s nice, I think… but sometimes he looks at me like he knows something I don’t."
Jay’s expression shifts with something unreadable for half a second, but he quickly covers it with a soft chuckle. "He’s probably just in a bad mood. Or maybe he sees how much you’re distracting your poor neighbor."
You laugh. "Poor neighbor? You seem to be handling it pretty well."
His foot brushes against yours under the table. "Barely."
In the middle of the conversation, Jay’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, frowns, and silences it, slipping it into his pocket.
But a few minutes later, it buzzed again. Jay sighs. "I need to take this. It’s probably an emergency with a client. I won’t be long. I’m really sorry."
"Go ahead. I’ll be here judging the dessert menu."
He leans in and gives you a quick kiss on your temple before standing up. "I’ll be right back, princess."
The casual display of affection makes your heart race as you watch him walk away. While he is gone, you take a sip of your wine, observe the people around you, and study the dessert menu.
He returns after about five minutes, sliding back into his seat with an apologetic smile. "All sorted. Where were we?"
When the check arrives, Jay pays without hesitation, even though you offered to split it. Outside, the night air is cold, so he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Then he pulls you closer for a moment, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for saying yes," he murmurs against your hair.
You look up at him, smiling. "That was the best decision I’ve made in a long time."
The drive back feels shorter than the trip there, unfortunately — you wish this moment could last forever. Jay keeps one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. You arrive at the building sooner than you would like, but instead of stopping at the curb, Jay drives into the underground garage.
You unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you, Jay. For everything, the flowers, the dinner, the evening… I had a really great time."
He turns to you, that slow smile playing on his lips. "I’m glad, princess."
You reach for the door handle, but his hand moves quickly, wrapping around your wrist and stopping you. Your breath catches at the unexpected contact. "Wait, aren’t you going to thank me properly?"
You blink, confused. "I just did? The hug outside the restaurant and just now."
Jay chuckles, and his gaze shifts into something hungrier. "That was sweet, but I was thinking of something a little more fitting for the end of a perfect night."
Without overthinking it, you lean across the console and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," you whisper again, pulling back to see his reaction.
His smile widens. "Still not enough, princess. Come here."
He cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. The kiss starts soft, his lips meeting yours hesitantly, and you quickly melt into it, which makes him deepen the kiss while still keeping a slow, deliberate pace. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him with a small sigh.
What begins as one kiss turns into many, you lose count as they grow more intense, hungry, and urgent.
Somehow, you end up climbing over the console. His hands guide your hips until you are straddling his lap in the driver’s seat. The space is tight and the steering wheel presses against your back, but you couldn't care less right now. His hands roam along your sides, sliding up your dress until they rest on your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles that make you whimper against his mouth.
You kiss him again and again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, which draws a low groan from him. That only encourages you — hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you. The friction makes you gasp, and Jay clearly loves the sight — he squeezes your thighs, encouraging your movements.
"God, you’re incredible," he whispers against your mouth between kisses. "So responsive… so perfect."
Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, breathing hard. "You deserve better than this, princess. Our first time shouldn’t be in a car like a couple of impatient teenagers."
You kiss him again, more intensely, nipping at his lower lip. "I don’t care, I want you right here."
He groans, sliding his hand into your hair to pull you into another hungry kiss. "You’re so eager, princess… and so perfect grinding against me like this."
His mouth moves down to your neck, sucking lightly and drawing more whimpers from you. Your movements become restless, rubbing harder, chasing friction. "Jay…" you whisper between kisses. "I need you, please."
His hands find the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up inch by inch with clear appreciation until he discards it onto the passenger seat. "Beautiful," he murmurs reverently as he stares at your tits. "So beautiful." He leans down, pressing hot, wet kisses along the soft skin, then his tongue circles one nipple before sucking it deeply into his mouth.
You arch your back, a moan escaping your lips. He gives the same attention to the other tit, licking, sucking, and grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth while his hand massages and caresses the first. “You taste so good,” he praises, his voice muffled. "These perfect tits in my mouth… you’re already trembling. So sensitive for me."
He kisses lower, along your sternum and ribs, then back up — worshipping every inch of you while you keep grinding against him. Your panties are soaked, and the friction against his hardness only turns you on more.
He waits until you’re trembling in his lap before he finally moves. Reaching between you, he lowers his pants and boxers just enough to free himself, and when he does, your eyes widen. He is big — thick and hard. The sight makes your mouth water and heat pool low in your belly.
Jay reaches into the glove compartment, fumbling for a condom. He tears it open and rolls it down his length with surprising skill while you watch, hypnotized and a little intimidated by his size and thickness. "You’re… really big," you say softly.
Jay notices your nervousness and caresses your cheek, trying to soothe you. "We’ll go slow, princess. I’ve got you. My good girl can take it."
He helps you shift your panties to the side, guiding you as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense but delicious — you take him inch by inch, breathing deeply as he fills you completely, murmuring praises nonstop. "That’s it, princess… so tight, so good for me… so fucking perfect around me."
You bury your face in his neck as you sink all the way down, taking him completely until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap. "Oh God… you’re so, so big," you moan, still adjusting to the intense stretch.
The age difference flashes through your mind — he is older, more experienced, probably used to women who knew exactly what they were doing. You want to be good for him, so once you feel ready, you start moving — bouncing with almost frantic energy, desperate to please him. Your hips move and grind fast, determined.
"Easy, princess," Jay groans, gripping your hips to slow you down. "Slow… just like that. You feel incredible, but there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere."
You moan, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "I just… you’ve probably been with so many others who were better at this. I want to make it good for you. I want to be the best—"
He cuts you off with a deep kiss, then pulls back to look into your eyes while still guiding your movements into a slower, deeper rhythm. "Hey, none of that. It’s just you right now, and you’re already the best, baby. Look at how perfectly you take me." He thrusts up gently to emphasize his words, drawing a moan from you. "You’re my princess."
You relax into his words and the rhythm he sets, moving your hips in deep, grinding motions instead of frantic bouncing. It feels even better this way — his thickness brushing against every sensitive spot inside you. "Like this?" you ask breathlessly, your voice shy but needy.
"Just like that," he praises, his voice rough. "So good for me. So wet… so tight. You’re perfect, listen to those pretty sounds you make."
You keep whispering to him the whole time — shy confessions and soft, breathless questions. "You feel so good, Jay… I feel so full. Does it feel good for you? Tell me if you’re enjoying it."
He groans, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass, then returning to your tits so he can lick and suck them while you ride him. "I love it. I love everything you do. The way you squeeze me… the way you say my name. You’re ruining me, princess."
The pleasure builds uncontrollably, intense and overwhelming, leaving both of you sweaty and breathless. He slides a hand between you to your clit, circling it with his thumb in time with your movements. You tremble hard, moaning and gasping, telling him how close you are, how good he feels, and how much you have wanted this since the day you moved in.
When you come, your walls pulse tightly around his thickness and your body shakes as you cry out his name. Jay follows right after, holding you firmly against him as he finishes into the condom with a deep groan, murmuring endless praises. "That’s it, come for me… so beautiful giving yourself to me completely… my perfect girl."
You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. He wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing your temple while his hands gently caress your back. "You okay?" he whispers after a while. "Was it too much?"
"It was perfect," you murmur, nuzzling into his neck. "Better than I imagined. Thank you for slowing me down when I got too excited. I probably embarrassed myself, right?"
He shakes his head lightly and laughs, then he gives you one last kiss on your temple and helps you climb back into the passenger seat, watching as you slip your dress back on. "Don’t forget these," he says, reaching for the bouquet.
You take it with a happy smile. "I wouldn’t dare."
He walks around the car to open your door and intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. Once inside, he pulls you close and kisses you the entire way up to your floor.
"Your place tonight?" you ask against his lips.
Jay’s hand slides to your lower back, pulling you even closer. "Yes, because I’m not done with you yet. I need you in my bed. The thought of you in my sheets, smelling like me when you wake up… it drives me crazy."
The elevator doors open and he pulls you down the hallway toward his door, unlocking it effortlessly. The moment you are both inside, he takes the flowers from your hand, sets them on the counter, and turns to you with hungry eyes. "Come here," he growls, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. His hands cup your face first, then slide down your body. "Let me take care of you properly this time."
He leads you to the bedroom and there, he undresses you slowly, admiring and kissing every inch of exposed skin. When you are completely naked, he steps back and looks at you with pure admiration and desire. "Fuck, look at you… so perfect. Every curve, every inch… all mine tonight."
He removes his own clothes and guides you onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. His warm palms caress them, spreading you open even more. His mouth is on you immediately, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, savoring you. "Mmm, already so wet," the vibration of his voice makes you gasp. "You taste so sweet, princess. Like you were made for my mouth."
You let out a shaky moan, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. "Jay… that feels incredible. Oh God—"
He slides a finger inside you, curling it against that sweet spot while his mouth continues sucking and licking. The suction around your clit, the rhythm of his finger stroking that perfect spot deep inside — it all turns the pleasure into something deliciously overwhelming. He adds a second finger, then a third, carefully stretching you as he pumps them in and out.
Your hips move against his face as the pleasure intensifies. "Don’t stop… please, Jay, just like that," you moan, your voice breathless and desperate. He eats you out like a starving man — licking, sucking, and thrusting his fingers into you until your thighs shake around his head and you fall apart with a long, loud cry. You clench and pulse around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you.
Jay doesn’t stop right away, he keeps licking and fingering you through it, prolonging every sensation until you are limp and panting. Only then he drags his mouth up your body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and up your neck. "You taste like heaven," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could do this all night, make you come on my tongue until you go stupid."
He grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on quickly over his hard, leaking cock. You reach down, wrapping your hand around his thick, hard length — stroking him slowly, feeling the weight, the pulsing heat, tracing the veins with curiosity. "I want it raw, Jay… I need to feel you, please."
He groans deeply, his hips pushing forward into your fist. "Baby… protection first, remember? I’ll still make you feel good even with the latex between us, I promise." After kissing your forehead, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes in inch by inch, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You feel a burning stretch as your walls slowly give way to him, every thick pulsing vein dragging against your sensitive insides. When he’s halfway in, you look down between your bodies and see the clear bulge pressing out against your lower belly.
He notices it right after and quickly slides a hand down to press against the bulge, feeling it move under his palm as he sinks deeper. "Fuck, look at that. You see how deep I am? My cock is rearranging your insides, princess. Stretching this tight pussy so you can see it from the outside."
Your hand joins his, pressing against the visible outline, feeling him move inside you from both the inside and the outside. He teases you mercilessly, thrusting slow and deep so the bulge shifts under your combined touch. "You’re taking me so well, like this pussy was made for my cock. So greedy, swallowing every inch."
He sinks the rest of the way in with a guttural groan, bottoming out completely. "Shit… so tight, so hot. You’re already milking me."
His thick cock fills you so completely that every movement presses against sensitive spots that steal the breath from your lungs. His thrusts start controlled and incredibly gentle instead of brutal force. One hand stays intertwined with yours above your head, while the other caresses your cheek, squeezes your breast, and lightly pinches your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. "You look like pure sin wrapped around me… My beautiful princess, creaming all over my cock, taking every inch like a good girl. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else."
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jay… it feels so good. You’re so deep, I can feel you everywhere." He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his hips move faster in a devastating rhythm that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
You come hard around him, your walls fluttering and clenching tightly as you cry out. He does not stop, thrusting deep and steady, prolonging your orgasm until you are shaking. "Fuck, that’s it, come on my cock, baby."
Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a long, broken groan of your name as he cums, pulsing inside you. He stays buried deep for long moments afterwards, holding you close and covering your face, neck, and shoulders with soft kisses until both of your breathing steadies.
Eventually, he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and returns from the bathroom with a warm, damp cloth. He cleans you both gently, murmuring more praises the entire time. "You were perfect, princess. So responsive, so beautiful when you come for me." He pulls the sheets over both of you and wraps you in his arms.
Your head rests on Jay’s chest while his fingers trace a lazy path along your spine, down to the curve of your waist. Without a word, you shift, turning onto your side. Jay follows naturally, molding his body against yours from behind in a perfect spoon. His chest presses against your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. You can already feel him half-hard again against the curve of your ass, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.
He nuzzles into the back of your neck, placing soft kisses there. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough in the quiet room.
"More than okay," you whisper back, pressing lightly against him. "I like feeling you close like this."
Jay reaches for another condom from the nightstand. You hear the faint rustle as he puts it on, then his hand returns to your body, tenderly caressing your side and hip. He lifts your top leg slightly, hooking it over his, opening you up for him. The thick head of his cock brushes against your entrance before he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he is buried completely inside you.
"So good," he whispers against your neck, sliding a hand up to caress your breast. His fingers massage gently, his thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.
He starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, thrusting unhurriedly so you can feel every inch of his thick cock dragging against your walls. While he fucks you, his hand on your breast never stops worshipping it — squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pinching lightly before soothing it with gentle caresses. And his mouth keeps placing open-mouthed kisses along the back of your neck, back, and shoulder.
You reach behind you, running your fingers through his hair as you move with him. "Jay… deeper like that feels so good."
His thrusts become a little deeper, but still controlled. "You take me so well every single time. Look at how perfectly you fit around me. I could stay inside you forever." His mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark while he continues playing with your breasts — pinching, rolling, and caressing until your nipples are deliciously sore. Only then he slid his hand down to your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The combination of sensations is overwhelming and pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "You’re so close… I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me again, princess."
And you do. Your walls contract rhythmically around his thickness as you moan his name, your body trembling in his arms. Jay follows right after you, burying his face in your neck with a deep groan as he comes, filling the condom.
You turn your head slightly to capture his lips in a lazy kiss. "I feel so safe with you," you whisper. "And so wanted."
He stays inside you until the aftershocks fade, then carefully pulls out, discards the condom, and cleans you both once again with gentle care. He pulls the sheets up around you both and draws you back into his arms, spooning you again.
Jay’s hand rests tenderly on your stomach, tracing small circles there. You feel deeply in love and completely at peace as you start to drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.
Sunlight is already filtering through the curtains by the time you slowly wake up the next morning —.only to realize the space beside you is empty, even though the warmth of Jay’s body and the faint scent of his cologne still linger around. You stretch and sit up to look around the room, noticing one of his shirts draped over the back of a chair. Slipping it on, you pad barefoot out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, drawn by the rich aroma of coffee and food already filling the air.
Jay is at the stove, flipping eggs while a plate of toast and cut fruit waits for you on the counter. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. "Good morning."
He turns off the stove and turns around, settling his hands on your hips. His gaze softens instantly when he sees you wearing his shirt. "Good morning, princess. You look way too good in my clothes."
You laugh softly and tilt your face up, expecting a kiss. He leans in but pauses with a playful look. "Ah, but you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. No good-morning kisses until after breakfast."
You pout and dramatically pull away. "Not even a kiss on the cheek? You’re so cruel."
With a sigh, he gives in — pressing a long kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead. Before you can say anything, he effortlessly lifts you and sits you on the edge of the kitchen counter, standing between your knees. "There. Now I can look at you properly while I finish this."
As he moves around the kitchen, your eyes wander until they stop on the refrigerator. Something catches your attention — photos are held up by magnets, but one in particular stands out: a Polaroid of Jay smiling with his arm around a woman’s shoulders. You hadn't noticed it on your previous visits to the kitchen — you had been too focused on him. "Who is that?" you ask curiously, nodding toward the fridge. "The woman in the photo with you?"
Jay glances over while sliding a plate toward you. "That’s my sister. We don’t look much alike, I know. We’re actually half-siblings."
You tilt your head, studying the photo for another second. They really do not look very similar, but that is not unusual for half-siblings. "She looks nice," you say lightly, accepting the plate he offers. "Breakfast looks delicious, by the way. You really didn’t have to."
"I wanted to," he replies, stepping between your knees and stealing a quick peck. "After last night, it feels right to take care of you this morning… and maybe every other morning too."
You smile shyly. "Speaking of last night… it was incredible. You made everything feel so good, so right. I keep replaying every part of it in my head."
He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "You were perfect, baby. I loved every second of it." He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. "You’re so beautiful when you let go for me."
"You’re going to make it really hard for me to focus in class today." You take a bite of the toast, savoring it. "Oh, by the way, I’m going out with some new friends from college tonight. They invited me to a party, it’s a chance to get to know each other better outside of class."
Jay nods, resting a hand on your thigh and stroking it lightly. "Sounds fun. Just be careful, okay? Text me when you get there and when you’re heading back."
"I will," you say, stealing another quick kiss from him. "I won’t stay out too late anyway. I have an early class tomorrow."
He picks up a piece of fruit from the plate and brings it to your mouth, brushing his fingers teasingly against your lips. "You deserve to have fun… I’ll be here if you need anything when you get back."
You stumble out of your friend’s car a little after 1 a.m., waving goodbye as you sway on your feet. You make your way toward the building entrance and suddenly remember that you promised to text Jay — which you didn’t. So you call him to let him know you arrived and are heading up. In response, he says he is waiting for you.
When you reach the third floor, Jay’s door is already open and he is waiting for you. "Heyyy," you say cheerfully, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. "I’m back. Just like I promised."
Laughing Jay’s arms wrap around you automatically as he looks at you more closely. "You’re pretty drunk, princess. How was the party?"
"So much fun," you ramble, clinging to him tighter as he guides you inside and closes the door. "We danced, there was a shot game, and my new friends are so funny. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt." You tilt your head up, puckering your lips. "Kiss?"
Instead of a proper kiss, he gives you a quick one on your forehead. "You smell like a distillery and your shirt is soaked, what happened?"
You look down at the sticky stain on your shirt and pout. "Someone spilled on me. It’s gross. But I still want kisses, real kisses." You try to pull his face down, standing on your tiptoes. "I missed you all night. I kept thinking about you during the party… about how nice you were last night. We should do that again right now."
Jay gently holds your wrists to stop you. "Not tonight, princess. You’re drunk."
"But I want you," you beg, pressing closer, but he doesn’t give in at all. "You’re so hot, so gentle, and… big. Please?"
He shakes his head and guides you toward the bathroom. "No. Only when you’re sober and can remember everything clearly. Right now, I’m just taking care of you, okay?"
"Let’s get you cleaned up," he says gently once you reach the bathroom. Reaching for the hem of your wet shirt he carefully pulls it off, followed by the rest of your clothes.
"You’re always so gentle with me," you murmur, watching him adjust the shower temperature. "No one has ever been this gentle. I really, really like you, Jay."
He smiles softly and helps you into the shower, joining you still fully dressed so he can take care of you. Jay keeps one hand on your waist to steady you while the other runs soapy over your shoulders and arms.
The alcohol in your system makes your emotions spill out easily before you can stop them. "I think… I think I’m falling for you," you confess, your tongue loose, making your cheeks flush. "Is that crazy? It feels too fast. I know I’m younger and still figuring everything out, but being with you just feels right. You make me feel safe, wanted, and special."
Jay pauses for half a second, processing what he just heard, but then continues washing you carefully — lathering the floral-scented body wash over your skin. "This smells like… girl stuff," you say, a little curious. "Is it yours?"
He looks away for a moment before answering. "It’s my mom’s. She left some things here the last time she came to visit."
"Ah," You rest your forehead against his chest as the water runs over both of you. "I meant it, though. About falling for you. Even if it’s too soon… I can’t help it."
Jay wraps his arms fully around you under the spray of water, holding you close — voice is full of affection when he finally replies. "Hey… look at me, princess." He gently lifts your chin. "What you’re feeling… I feel it too." Softly, he kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose. "We don’t need to rush or label anything right now. Just know that I’m here and I care about you a lot."
Even in your alcohol-fueled haze, his words calm the part of you that was worried you were moving too fast. "Really? You feel it too?"
"I do." He continues washing you carefully — your arms, your back, your sides — just taking care of you. "Being with you is easy. Natural. So let’s just enjoy it, okay? One day at a time."
Jay finishes rinsing you off and helps you out of the shower. Wrapping you in a towel he dries you gently before dressing you in one of his shirts. By the time he guides you to bed, you are already sleepy. He helps you lie down and you snuggle into the sheets, murmuring one last "I really like you" before falling asleep.
────────
The following days feel almost too good to be real.
You wake up in Jay’s bed, wrapped in his arms and wearing one of his shirts. He always wakes up before you to make breakfast and greet you with a good morning kiss and that smile that still makes your heart flutter. But on some mornings, you pull him back into bed to cuddle before classes and work, and without any argument, he makes time to make you feel loved.
When you get home from class, tired, Jay is already there to greet you cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. He texts you during the day, asking how your classes are going and reminding you to eat. When you are together, he pulls you in for slow, affectionate kisses — the kind that make your legs weak. Some nights you cook together as he tries to teach you how to make proper meals. Other nights he orders takeout and you eat on the couch while you tell him every detail of your day. He still doesn’t share much about himself, always dodging the subject, but you do not push — you don’t want to be invasive.
The sex is frequent — sometimes slow and worshipful, his mouth and hands adoring every inch of you until you are trembling and coming apart. Other times it is faster and more urgent — against the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the couch, in his home office. One night you try baking cookies together, ending up covered in flour and laughing as he kisses the mess off your cheek. Another night you start watching a movie cuddled together, but the movie is forgotten halfway through when clothes come off and he fucks you right there on the couch.
Suddenly everything feels so domestic — he now keeps an extra toothbrush for you, your notebooks are on his coffee table, and some of your clothes are scattered around his apartment. It is undeniable that you are falling deeper and deeper in love.
On a Sunday afternoon, you are studying on his couch while Jay is in his home office, working on a complicated case that demands his full attention. After hours buried in books and notes, concentrating is almost impossible. At this point, your mind keeps wandering to him without permission. When your brain finally gives up, you close the book with a dramatic sigh.
You walk down the hallway and peek into his office. Jay is sitting at his desk with his sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly attractive as he concentrates on reviewing some papers. "Jay?" you call, walking in without waiting for an answer.
He looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, the tension in his shoulders softens. "Hey, princess. How are the studies going?"
Boring." You take a few steps closer and don’t ask for permission — you simply climb into his lap, settling on his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, then his cheek and lips. "I missed you. Pay attention to me? Just for a little while?"
One of his hands rests on your waist while the other continues organizing the documents. "I’d love to, baby, but this case is a nightmare. There are documents everywhere. I’m going crazy with these."
You nuzzle into the curve of his neck and kiss him there. "You’ve been in here for hours… you deserve a break." Your hips move subtly against him, restless, the friction sending a spark through both of you. You feel him twitch beneath you, already starting to respond to your movements.
Jay’s grip on your waist tightens. "Princess…" There is a warning tone in his voice, bordering on frustration. But as you grind against him, you can feel him beginning to harden, and that gives you hope — you think he might give in.
"You’re really testing me today." He pulls you into a kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. When he pulls away, it is with a frustrated sigh.
"That's the point," you whisper, smiling proudly against his lips as you continue grinding, slower this time, feeling him get even harder.
Jay curses under his breath, gripping your hips more firmly. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, he can’t, the desire is uncontrollable. He reaches between you and unzips his pants. "Fine, but you’re going to behave." He frees his hard, throbbing cock and pulls your panties and shorts to the side. This time there is nothing between you — no latex barrier, just him.
You sink down onto him slowly, and the new sensation hits you immediately — it’s different, hotter, more intimate. Every ridge and vein is raw against your walls, the skin-to-skin contact sends a shiver through your entire body and makes you moan as you settle fully onto him. The stretch feels deeper and more overwhelming than ever.
For a moment, it feels perfect — connected, raw.
But then his hands close firmly on your hips, holding you completely still. "Don’t move," he commands, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher. "Stay just like this. No grinding, no whimpering. I’m serious."
His cock pulses hot and heavy inside you, and you can barely focus on what he said. "Jay… oh my God, you feel—"
"I said don’t move," he interrupts, repeating it more harshly this time. His free hand returns to the stack of papers while the other arm stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place.
At first, you try to obey — resting your head on his shoulder and breathing deeply every time his cock twitches inside you, but the longer you sit there, the harder it becomes. You let out a soft moan as your hips twitch involuntarily. "Jay… please, just let me move a little bit."
"I told you not to move. Jesus, you’re really pushing it today." The irritation is clear in every word now, and his grip on your waist tightens even more. "I have a deadline. I can’t afford to get distracted like this."
Again, you try to stay still — you really do, until frustrated tears prick at your eyes — but your body betrays you with small, involuntary movements of your hips. "I’m sorry… I can’t help it. This is driving me crazy. I need you to move, please."
Jay’s jaw is tense and his breathing comes in heavy bursts — clearly fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You think I don’t want to? You’re so tight and wet around me right now, but I can’t. I have work to do and you’re not letting me focus." His tone grows even harsher. "Stop squirming. Be a good girl for me and just sit there.”
But you do not listen — you roll your hips again, letting out a moan as he rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. "Jesus Christ. I told you I have work and this is fucking important."
"But I missed you and this is torture. Please, please just fu-"
He cuts you off sharply. "You always miss me, always need something. Kisses, hugs, my cock, my fucking attention. You practically live here now, your things are all over my apartment, you sleep in my bed like it’s yours. Isn’t that enough attention? You know what? I need you to get off so I can actually finish this case."
The words hurt, making your chest tighten — tears of frustration turn into something heavier and spill down your cheeks. "I didn’t mean to be annoying… I just wanted to be close to you."
"Yeah, well, wanting to be close to me doesn’t magically make my deadline disappear. I’m already behind because of distractions like this." His hand on your hip tightens even more, holding you completely still, the pressure bordering on uncomfortable. "You have your own apartment right next door. Just give me a few hours alone, for once."
You stare at him in disbelief at what you just heard. Suddenly the intimate position feels humiliating — the way you are still stretched around him while he looks at you like you are nothing but am annoyance. "You want me to leave? Like this… right now"
"I’m telling you to give me some space." With no patience left, he lifts you off him, leaving you empty and trembling. "Go to your place, take a nap, study, whatever. Just let me work."
You stand there with shaky legs, wiping away your tears, feeling small, vulnerable, and unwanted. With a quiet, trembling breath, you whisper, "…Okay."
It's past 9 PM when Jay finally steps out of his office, having finished dealing with that pile of papers. The silence hangs heavy now, normally you would be humming, curled up on the couch waiting for him, or laughing at something silly on your phone. Without you, the space feels too empty. He had been rude — way too rude — and he sees that now. He owes you an apology, so he walks over to your door, but just as he is about to knock, he notices the door is not fully closed — it’s slightly ajar, allowing him to hear low murmurs of voices.
Frowning, he pushes the door open a little more and steps inside, finding a guy standing right at the entrance to your living room, putting on a jacket. The guy turns at the sound of the door, his expression quickly shifting to surprise. "Ah, hi. You must be Jay. She talks about you a lot."
He looks over the other guy’s shoulder toward the couch where you are sitting with your knees pulled up. The guy cleans his throat, sensing the tension between the two of you. "I was just leaving… It was really nice talking to you." He gives you a small wave. "Text me if you need anything else, okay?"
You smile and wave back. "Yeah. Thanks, Jake. Drive safe."
As Jake heads for the door, Jay blocks his path. "Wait. What exactly were you doing here?"
Jake blinks, surprised by the sudden question. "She seemed pretty down when we texted, so I decided to stop by and check if she was okay. Anyway, I’m heading out. Nice to meet you, man."
He steps aside, letting Jake pass. The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of you in the suddenly too-quiet apartment.
You stand up, hugging yourself. "Jay… what are you doing here?"
The regret he felt for being so harsh with you is quickly replaced by jealousy and irritation. "I came because my place was too quiet without you. I started thinking maybe I was too hard on you earlier, but clearly you didn’t waste any time finding company."
You frown, confused by what he means. "He’s just a friend. I told you about him before, we met during my first week on campus when I accidentally walked into the wrong lecture hall. I was upset after you basically kicked me out, so I texted him. We weren’t doing anything, just talking."
Jay lets out a short, bitter laugh and steps closer. "Talking late at night like it’s a casual visit. You mentioned him before, of course, but I didn’t know you two were close enough for house calls."
The hurt from earlier mixes with frustration now. "You were so rude, Jay. You made me feel like I was an annoying pest who can’t function without your attention. I understand you’re stressed with work, but you didn’t have to push me away and kick me out like that. I felt embarrassed."
He closes even more of the distance between you, standing close enough that you can feel the jealousy radiating off him. "You’re the one who can’t sit still for five minutes without demanding something, climbing into my lap while I’m trying to meet a deadline, whimpering and squirming like a spoiled brat because you ‘missed me’."
You take a step back, but the couch hits the back of your legs. "I just wanted to be close to you."
"But the world doesn’t revolve around your need for attention. I love having you around, but today? You made it impossible for me to concentrate, and the second I ask for a few hours to actually get things done, you run straight to this Jake guy?" Jay doesn’t care that nothing happened — the image of another guy in your space, late at night, while you were upset, makes his blood boil.
"I didn’t run to him! I was crying when he got here and he just listened. Unlike you, who basically told me to leave because I’m too much."
Jay’s laugh is harsh this time, completely humorless. "Too much. Yeah, that’s one way of saying you’re a spoiled brat who demands attention every second, and the moment things get difficult, you replace me with whoever is most convenient."
Neither of you speaks for a long moment. You look away, Jay’s jaw clenches, and soon his gaze drifts from your face to the way you are hugging yourself, then lower, lingering on your bare legs. The jealousy is still burning in his chest, mixed with the memory of you sitting on his cock earlier, demanding attention, all needy.
"Come here," he says, nodding toward the couch.
You hesitate, biting your lip, which makes Jay exhale sharply and close the distance. His hand wraps around your wrist, guiding you toward the couch. "We’re not done talking about this."
He sits on the couch and pulls you closer until you are lying across his lap, your stomach pressed against his thighs. Your shirt has ridden up naturally, but he is not satisfied. "This is in the way." His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside — leaving your ass completely bare for him.
Jay’s palm rests on one of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh possessively. "You’ve been pushing all day… needing attention, teasing me, and then Jake shows up at your place, and I’m supposed to just swallow that?" His fingers dig harder into the flesh. "You’re mine, and it’s time you learn what happens when you piss me off this much."
His hand makes slow circles over your skin, almost soothing. "How many spanks do you think you deserve for acting like this?"
Your heart races as you try to process his words — head turning slightly to look at him. "What? Are you serious?"
He meets your eyes with a firm, dark expression — one you have never seen from him before. "Very serious. You’ve been spoiled all day, teasing me on purpose. So tell me, how many do you think you deserve?"
You swallow hard, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I don’t know… Five? Maybe?"
Jay lets out a mocking laugh. "Five? That’s way too low, baby. You’re going to take twenty, and you’re going to count each one out loud. If you lose count or mess up, we start over. Understood?"
You hesitate but eventually whisper, "Yes… okay."
"Good girl." His hand lifts and the first spank comes without warning — firm and sharp, the sound echoing through the silence. You jolt, a surprised moan escaping you — heat spreads instantly across your bare skin, the sting stronger than you expected.
"One," you gasp.
He immediately rubs the spot in slow, soothing circles, calming the hot skin where he struck.
"Two," you say after the next spank lands on the other cheek.
Jay keeps a steady rhythm — delivering hard spanks followed by almost tender caresses. Then his fingers slide lower, tracing your wet folds, spreading them teasingly, brushing against your entrance, lightly circling your clit before pulling away.
"What a spoiled little brat," he murmurs during one of the pauses, rubbing your reddened cheeks while two fingers tease your slit again. "You’re already getting so wet… You like this, don’t you?"
You moan instead of answering, which earns you another sharp spank. "Five."
He continues, the spanks leaving marks and building heat across your ass. Now his fingers are dip inside you, moving with slow, shallow thrusts, curling just enough to brush that sensitive spot and make you clench around him desperately. But he always pulls back before you can get close to the edge.
"Six… seven… ah!"
By ten, tears prick your eyes, your thighs trembling as the sting turns into a pulsing heat.
Jay pauses longer this time, massaging your sore ass and spreading your cheeks so he can tease your entrance again. "You’re mine. When you need attention that badly, you come to me, even if I’m stressed, even if I tell you to leave." A finger pushes deep inside you, staying there while his thumb brushes your clit.
You lose track amid the overwhelming sensations and he makes you start over, just as he warned. "Back to one." During the restart, two more fingers slide inside you, moving in a torturous rhythm. "You feel how wet you are? This is what happens when you forget who you belong to."
"You’re mine. Your time, your attention, this body. I don’t share it." Spank. Soothe. Tease. "Say it."
"I’m yours," you moan.
"Louder." Another spank.
"I’m yours, Jay!"
When he finally reaches twenty, you are a trembling mess with tears streaming down your face. Jay finally pulls you up and turns you so you are sitting in his lap. His hands stay on your ass, carefully massaging the sore flesh and you press yourself against the hard bulge in his pants, burying your face in his shoulder. "You did so well, my good girl."
Jay lifts your chin, meeting your eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you — really looks at you — taking in your flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. Then he leans in and kisses you. One hand remains on your sore ass, squeezing gently, while the other slides into your hair. He kisses you like he needs to claim every part of you — hungry, insistent, his tongue tracing your lower lip before sliding inside. You melt into him, moaning against his mouth as you start slowly grinding your hips.
He pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. "Still so needy… even after all that." Then he kisses you again, deeper and hungrier, tongues sliding together with fervor. The hand on your ass slips between your bodies to tease your wet folds with light circles and shallow dips — keeping you right on the edge.
When he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects you for a second before breaking. "On your knees, princess."
Obediently, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Jay looks down at you, one hand lazily stroking your hair as he frees himself from his pants — his cock springs out, thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.
"Open. Tongue out," he says, tapping your lower lip with two fingers. You open your mouth and obediently stick your tongue out. He leans forward and spits directly into your mouth. The warm, viscous saliva lands on your tongue, degrading in a way that makes you shiver. "Swallow that first," he instructs. You swallow while keeping your eyes locked on his. He nods with a satisfied hum. "Now show me how sorry you are for pushing me today."
You start with kisses along his length before dragging your tongue from base to tip. Jay groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, but he doesn't force you — not yet. His thickness stretches your lips as you finally take him into your mouth. He is big enough that you can only take about half before he hits the back of your throat. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what does not fit in a steady rhythm.
"Fuck… that’s it," he murmurs, tilting his head back for a moment before his gaze returns to you. He doesn't want to miss a single second of this. "Look at me while you suck it."
You do, looking up at him with teary eyes, and the sight makes his cock twitch in your mouth. When you pull back to catch your breath, he slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, leaving strings of saliva connecting you, before guiding you back down. "Yeah, just like that… good girl."
Between bobs, when you pull back to breathe, you say breathlessly, "I’m sorry for distracting you and for Jake being here." Then he guides you down again.
Jay’s hips start moving, pushing a little deeper and testing your limits. Tears continue to prick your eyes from the stretch, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks and moaning around him.
When he finally gets close, Jay’s grip tightens, his thighs tense, and his breathing becomes ragged. "I’m going to come. Don’t waste it, swallow everything." You nod around him, doubling your efforts and with a deep groan, he comes down your throat — thick, hot pulses that you swallow eagerly, not letting a single drop escape.
He pulls out slowly, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip before it breaks. "Open your mouth. Show me."
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to prove you swallowed everything. “That’s my good girl.”
He helps you up, pulls you back into his lap, and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you that makes Jay groan into your mouth, one hand sliding down to grab your bare ass and guide your movements.
"Still not satisfied? Such a greedy little thing." Even though he just came, his cock is already stirring again, hardening beneath you as your wet pussy slides along his length.
You gasp against his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Jay… I need you so bad."
He answers by kissing you again, but soon pulls back to meet your eyes. "Then take what you want."
You don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Rising on shaky knees, you reach down and align the thick head of his cock against your entrance, and slowly you sink down, gasping at the stretch and every inch that fills you. The lack of a barrier makes him feel impossibly thicker than the last time in his office — hotter, more intimate. The spanked skin of your ass burns as you settle fully against his thighs.
"Fuck," Jay hisses, his head falling back against the couch for a moment as his hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you fully impaled on him. "So wet… so fucking tight like this."
You start moving, rolling your hips in a slow, deep rhythm, the angle letting you feel every ridge and vein raw inside you, pulling broken moans from your throat. One of his hands slips under your shirt to caress one tit while the other stays on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in time with your movements. The mix of pleasure and stinging burn makes everything more intense.
"That’s right," he growls, thrusting up to meet you. "This is what you wanted all day, isn’t it? My attention. My cock." You lean forward, kissing him messily while you bounce, moving your hips faster.
With a low curse, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly flips you, laying you down on the couch cushions, driving him even deeper which pulls a sharp cry from you.
Now he is on top, pinning you beneath him — one of your legs hooked over his shoulder as he starts thrusting into you with deep, powerful strokes — hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt each time and the lack of a condom lets you feel every raw inch.
Clinging to his back, your nails dig in as the pleasure borders on overwhelming. Jay’s face hovers above yours, his hair damp with sweat falling into his eyes. Rhythm falters for a second as he looks at you, something darker flashing across his face, the jealousy from earlier — the image of Jake leaving your apartment — has not disappeared. "Are you on the pill?"
You shake your head, breathless, barely able to form words between moans. "No, I’m not."
He thrusts harder, hitting deep against your cervix as if to emphasize the point. "Good," he growls, eyes locked on yours. "Actually, fucking perfect. Maybe I’ll knock you up tonight, put a baby in you so you won’t even think about another guy like Jake. You’ll stay right here with me, we’ll have a beautiful family, me, you, and our kids. No more distractions."
The words should have shocked you, but in the heat of the moment — with him fucking you raw, his body claiming yours completely — they only send a fresh wave of arousal through you. Moaning loudly, your legs tightening around his waist. "Jay… fuck—"
He groans at your reaction, his hips moving harder. "You like that idea, don’t you? My cum deep inside you, getting you pregnant so everyone knows you’re claimed." One of his hands slides down to press lightly against your stomach, as if he can already imagine it.
The couch creaks beneath you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet noises of him fucking you filling the room. Jay’s earlier irritation fuels every deep thrust, but so does possessiveness — the need to claim you completely after the stressful day. He presses you deeper into the cushions, his hips moving in a way that grinds against your clit with every stroke.
When you finally come, it is intense — your walls contracting tightly around his cock as you scream his name. Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible, and you feel the hot pulses of his cum filling you, thick and warm.
For long minutes, Jay simply holds you — kissing your neck, your jaw, your swollen lips — his cock softening slowly inside you, but as the minutes stretch on, you feel him coming back to life, pulsing against your sensitive walls. "Already?" There is a playful tone in your voice.
"I can’t help it." He moves, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before slowly pulling out. You moan at the loss, feeling his cum start to leak out of you, but his hand quickly reaches down to push it back inside you with two fingers. "Don’t waste it."
He leans back on the couch, stroking himself until he is fully hard again. "Turn around. Hands on the backrest."
You obey, your body trembling as you shift position, kneeling on the cushions, gripping the top of the backrest and arching your back slightly while Jay moves behind you, his gaze fixed on the evidence of the earlier spanking — your cheeks still red with visible handprints — as one of his palms smooths reverently over the heated skin before squeezing firmly.
"Fuck, look at this… Still so red from your lesson." His cock brushes against your entrance before he thrusts deep inside you in one powerful stroke, the new position letting him sink even deeper as the head of his cock presses against spots that make your toes curl drawing a loud moan from you while you grip the backrest tighter as he bottoms out.
Jay starts fucking you with firm, powerful thrusts — deep and deliberate, the couch creaking beneath you both — as every thrust makes your sore ass bounce and the red marks darken even more with the impact, his eyes unable to leave them while his thumbs press into the soft flesh, pulling you back onto his cock repeatedly.
"These marks… they look so good on you." Without warning, he lands a hard, stinging spank on your right cheek, the already sensitive skin making you cry out and clench hard around his cock as Jay groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering for a moment before he resumes his deep rhythm.
He gives your left cheek another spank, making you writhe and moan again as you push back against him desperately despite the burn — or maybe because of it — the mix of pain and pleasure making you even wetter, the previous creampie turning everything obscenely wet and messy.
"That’s it," he praises, smoothing his hands over the fresh marks he just added. "Squirm for me. I love how sensitive you are right here." He gives you one more spank, lighter this time but still enough to make you shudder, and immediately soothes the area with his hands, massaging the sore flesh while he continues thrusting deep and hard from behind.
Jay leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside yours while the other reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit. His chest presses against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks between thrusts. "You’re going to take every drop again, princess. I’m going to give you my babies, keep you so full you won’t even think about anyone else."
When you come again — hard, your vision blurring from the overwhelming sensations — Jay follows right behind, burying himself deep with a groan and flooding you with another load of hot cum. He stays inside you for a long time afterward, thrusting slowly through the aftershocks.
Finally, he pulls out carefully and pulls you into his arms, stroking your back in slow, gentle movements. "You’re a mess, princess. Come on, let me take care of you."
He stands up with you in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. Once inside, he turns on the shower, adjusts the temperature, and removes the rest of both your clothes before guiding you under the hot spray with him where the water cascades over you both. Jay takes his body wash, lathers it between his hands, and runs them over your skin — being extra careful around your sensitive ass, massaging the foam in light circles that ease some of the sting.
"Maybe I was a little too rough tonight," he says, his hands moving along your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of the many rounds. "Work stress got to me, and then seeing Jake… I took it out on you more than I should have. You handled it really well, but I’m sorry if it was too much."
You lean back against his chest, letting the water rinse off the soap as you tilt your head to look at him. "It hurt… but it also felt good. In a weird way. I just hated feeling like I was bothering you earlier. I didn’t want to annoy you while you were working. I just… missed you a lot."
After rinsing you, he turns off the shower, wraps you in a towel first, then himself and dries you carefully, paying extra attention to your ass and rubbing some soothing lotion he finds in the cabinet. "There. Better?"
"Much better," you admit, reaching up to touch his face. "Thank you for taking care of me like this."
He leans down and kisses your forehead. "You make it easy to want to take care of you." Pulling you closer, his voice shifting to something even calmer and more sincere. "I don’t know what I’d do without you around. I can’t imagine coming home and not having you here like this. You just… fit. Right here with me."
You hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest. "I feel the same. I always want to be close to you because you make everything feel better."
Smiling against your hair, Jay guides you to the bed and pulls the covers back, lying down beside you to pull you close against his chest. One arm wraps around you securely, his hand rests gently on your ass — not squeezing, just warm and protective over the sensitive skin.
You snuggle even closer, your leg draped over his as exhaustion finally takes over completely. "Stay the night?" you ask sleepily.
"Wouldn’t dream of leaving," His fingers trace lazy circles on your back until your breathing evens out and you fall asleep.
Next morning you stir slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles and Jay’s heavy arm draped over your waist, his body curled protectively against your back. He feels you waking up and trails lazy kisses along your shoulder before moving up the side of your neck. "Good morning, baby," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep as his hand slides to your stomach. "Sleep well?"
You turn in his arms, smiling despite the slight soreness when you move, and reach up to brush the messy hair from his forehead. "Yes… thanks to you."
He leans in and kisses you properly — slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you melt. At this point, he couldn't care less that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet. "You were incredible last night. Let me make it up to you a little more with breakfast."
Jay borrows a pair of your sweatpants that look comically tight on his incredibly nice ass, making you laugh as he models them. In the kitchen, you work side by side like so many mornings before — he cracks eggs for scrambled eggs while you toast bread and slice fruit. Small touches are stolen throughout: a hand on your lower back as he reaches past you, a quick kiss on your temple when you hand him the salt shaker, a playful bump of his hip against yours.
"You’re in a good mood today," you tease, leaning against the counter while he plates the food.
"I can’t help it when I wake up next to you." He sets the plates on the table and pulls you in for another kiss before you both sit down.
After eating, you start getting ready for college and he for the office. Jay kisses you one more time before heading back to his apartment next door to get ready for work. You take a long shower and, once dressed in jeans and a comfortable blouse, you step out into the hallway at the same time he does, looking impeccable in his work clothes.
He quickly pulls you in for a proper goodbye, hands gently cradling your face as he kiss your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Have a good day at class. Text me when you’re done." With one last soft kiss on your lips, he pulls away with a smile. "See you later, princess."
College passes in a whirlwind of classes and notes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Jay — the way he holds you, the sweet words, the kisses. He has not sent many messages during the day, which is a little unusual, but you figure he must be busy at work.
When you finally get home in the early evening, you step into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. Just before the doors close, a woman you have never seen in the building before enters, but something about her face seems vaguely familiar.
The woman smiles politely as the elevator starts moving. Curiosity gets the better of you and before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Hi… do you live here? I’ve been in the building for about two months and I don’t think I’ve seen you around."
She nods, laughing lightly. "Yes, I do, but I’ve been away on a work trip. I’m a lawyer and a complicated case kept me out of town longer than expected. I actually got back this morning."
"Wow. That sounds intense… By the way, my name is y/n. Nice to meet you."
The woman’s smile widens. "Nice to meet you too. Jay has already told me about you. He’s mentioned his sweet neighbor a few times."
Your heart flutters with joy — Jay talked about you to the neighbors. It feels special, like proof that you are really becoming a bigger part of his life. "He did? That’s nice to hear."
The elevator dings on the third floor and you both step out together. A small flicker of confusion crosses your mind — she is going the same way — but you don’t think much of it. Maybe she lives farther down the hall.
Then you see Jay standing there and your face lights up immediately. He hadn't texted you all day, and seeing him now makes excitement bubble up inside you. You walk toward him with a radiant smile.
At the same moment, the woman also walks straight up to him. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him — a deep, familiar, affectionate kiss. Jay’s hands settle on her waist automatically as he eagerly kisses her back.
The world stops.
Your feet freeze mid-step and everything inside you turns cold and numb. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you are seeing, but then the pieces fall into place with painful clarity. That was Jay’s wife. The woman in the Polaroid photo he casually said was his "sister." The late-night calls he claimed were from the office. The feminine body wash he said belonged to his mom. The distant restaurant he took you to on your first date, probably so no one nearby would recognize him. The way the doorman sometimes looked at you with that judgmental expression, like he knew something — he did. All the small inconsistencies you had ignored because you were so blinded by how gentle and attentive he seemed.
Every sweet word, every touch, every promise of "you’re mine" had been built on lies. He was married. His heart already belonged to someone else, and you had been nothing but a convenient distraction from the apartment next door — blind, eager, and so in love with the version of him he showed you that you never saw the truth.
Jay’s eyes meet yours over his wife’s shoulder, and for a fraction of a second, something like panic or guilt flashes across his face. The shock turns into pure pain, making you practically run to your door as you fumble for your keys while hot tears blur your vision.
You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor as sobs begin to escape you. Your chest hurts as if someone had ripped a hole in it. All the cute moments — the kisses, the touches, the date, the bouquet — turn ugly and humiliating in your memory.
You cry hard, knees pulled up to your chest, as disappointment turns into shame for having fallen so completely for the man who made you feel special, desired, and loved… and it was all a lie.
The thin walls allow you to hear muffled voices — his wife asking about his day, the normalcy of their conversation only making everything worse. You press your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound, but the damage is already done. Your heart is shattered.
The man you had grown so attached to — the one who held you so tenderly after sex, who made you breakfast and promised more comfortable days like that — was someone else’s husband, and you had been the other woman without even knowing it.
i just can't decide — which road is leading me to hell or paradise?
🦡★. ݁˖ SUMMARY :: your overly possessive boyfriend makes an agreement with his best friend in order to try to control himself and his jealousy issues — his best friend has to flirt with you, and if you fall for it, you'll earn something that you will remember for the rest of your life. This prize for your boyfriend is supposed to be a punishment, however he can't help himself but realize he likes it too...
🦡★. ݁˖ TAGS :: possessive jake, jealous jake, oral sex, cuckolding, threesome, queer themes, internalized homophobia, m x m content, fingering, nipple play, doggy style, hidden feelings, mentioned sunoo and jungwon, toxic jake, unhealthy relationship, possessive relationship, cheating (idk?), loads of dirty talk, breast fucking, masturbation, dom!sunghoon, sub!jake, verbal humiliation, homoerotic friendship, handcuffs, slight bdsm, sunghoon is a freaking braaaaat in this, sassy!sunghoon, unprotected p in v, rough sex, fingers in mouth
🦡★. ݁˖ GENRE :: smut with plot
🦡★. ݁˖ PAIRING :: boyfriend!jake x reader x boyfriend's!best friend!sunghoon
🦡★. ݁˖ WC :: 11k
🦡★. ݁˖ NOW PLAYING 💿 jealous type | doja cat
A/N :: i cant even put into words how much i HATE the first part, but pls dont let it scare you away because the rest is good💔 this is a very old draft haha thought id post something while im working on my longer fics (SURPRISE SURPRISE!!!)
Jake has always been a jealous type since you’ve known him. Ever since you and him got together three years ago, he got envious of the tiniest things. Even seeing you ask for directions in an amusement park from another male made his blood boil with anger.
You told him it was kind of upsetting you, and he has tried to control it ever since. But it's just so hard, when in his eyes you are the most beautiful and precious thing ever.
So, instead of trying to control it, he buried the thoughts deep down in his mind. He just hid it that he felt jealous every time you had to go out, possibly meeting someone you know and seeing you smile while talking to someone else.
“She told you she's with her friends” Sunghoon’s voice rasps through the phone’s speaker.
Jake walks around in the living room, almost nervously as he bites down his nails. It is a Thursday night, and you are out with your friends working on a uni project.
He wanted to trust you and not act childish, so he let you go without saying anything, not even a sneaky comment about how you could’ve just invited your friends over to do the project in your shared apartment.
But here he is, on the phone with his best friend who tries to reassure him as much as he can. Sunghoon finds it funny how Jake gets upset at the smallest things ever. It surprises him a little bit, because before he got with you, he was never like this.
“What if one of her friends wants to get with her?” He questions, earning a sigh from the other side of the phone.
“Man, you are seriously something else since you guys are together” Sunghoon says, having the audacity to laugh.
Jake stops circling around in the living room and looks out of the window, biting his lower lip down. “Are you saying that if you had a girlfriend you wouldn't be—”
“Straight up possessive?” Sunghoon interrupts “No”
“I'm not possessive” Jake projects, clenching his teeth together tightly. “I'm just worried”
Another sigh from the other side of the phone, and Jake is seriously beginning to debate if he should just simply put the phone down and, maybe, maybe… go after you. He knows where you meet your friends all the time, it's always the same bar on the corner of the street.
“Alright” Sunghoon says after a few moments of silence. Jake thinks this is finally the time when he says ‘don’t be a loser’ or something like that, and puts the phone down. “I'm coming over”
Jake’s eyes widens suddenly hearing the words from his friend, and he opens his mouth to say something back, to deny it, but he already hears the small ‘beep’ that indicates the end of the phone call.
-
Jake lays on his couch, not feeling like moving a singular muscle when he hears a key in the door. He glances over at it, just to see Sunghoon stepping in. He doesn't even know since when Sunghoon has a key to your apartment, but he doesn't really care at this point. This man has invalidated his private space a long time ago, and he doesn't bother to leave any time soon.
Sunghoon laughs when he sees his best friend laying on the couch unbothered, having his eyes on the tv but not really watching it.
“Jeez, you look faded, man,” Sunghoon comments, putting his leather jacket on one of the kitchen’s chairs.
“I'm not faded” Jake mumbles back, sitting up weakly.
Sunghoon hops down next to him on the couch, slightly pushing his arm to move away. “You are overreacting” he states.
“Thanks, that's really reassuring!”
Sunghoon runs a hand through his dark locks, putting both of his legs on the couch “I’m serious. Have you ever looked in the mirror? Why would she want anyone else when you— nevermind” he trails off mid sentence, turning his head away to look at the glowing tv screen, the light hitting his face making his soft features stand out more.
Jake frowns his brows in slight confusion. Why did Sunghoon get shy all of a sudden? He looks stressed, which isn't an usual thing to see on his face. Not when he was about to compliment his best friend; it was a casual compliment and nothing else.
“What?” Jake lets out a small chuckle, gaze staying on his best friend “when I what?”
“You look good, Jake. You don't have to worry about her cheating on you” Sunghoon barks finally, eyes still avoiding Jake at all cost. He wanted to say handsome, he wanted to say more, but he decided it was for the better to keep his mouth shut. Jake doesn't have to hear all his thoughts about him.
Jake chuckles again, but this time it's different. It sounds like he's satisfied with the compliment. “Thanks” he smiles to himself. “But that doesn't really help. My mind just can't stop”
Sunghoon ducks his head back and looks at the ceiling, he’s starting to get fed up by hearing the same thing over and over again all the time. Then, just as if a light bulb lit up in his mind, he straightens his back “I have an idea”
Jake looks up at him, cocking a brow curiously. “What is it?”
“I can prove to you that she only wants you. I can test her”
Jake grimaces “You want to flirt with my girlfriend?”
Sunghoon runs his hand down on his face, gesturing with his hands while he explains. Sure, if you word it like Jake, the idea doesn't sound so good… “No, no. I mean, kinda, but she won't fall for it. Trust me. I can flirt with her and everything, and I will tell you everything she tells me. So you will know everything about our interactions.”
Jake curls up in a ball at the end of the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest and biting down his nails as he thinks through the idea. It seemed very bad at first, but now that he thinks about it maybe it isn't that bad. Sunghoon flirts with you, just like a stranger would. But he can tell him about all of your interactions, how you react to each of his words. Yes, you know that Sunghoon is Jake’s best friend, but it isn't a problem since you guys never actually talked that much, just rushed greetings and goodbyes.
This is all what Jake wants. This is all he has been wanting ever since you two got together. Ever since he kissed you for the first time, ever since he tasted you for the first time. Knowing how you react when you talk with someone else and he's not there.
“So, what do you think?” Sunghoon asks, snapping Jake out of his cloudy thoughts.
“And what if she does cheat on me?” Jake assumes.
“She won—”
“No, I’m serious. I'm not overreacting, or whatever. What if she really does?” His tone is serious, meaning every word he says.
Sunghoon bites down his lip, seriously thinking. “Well, then we fuck” he shrugs.
“What the fuck? And what do I gain from that?” Jake exclaims, throwing a pillow at the dark-haired boy.
“I don't know, man. You can— like— watch?” He says the last part of the sentence like it's the most forbidden thing to say, like it's a slur, quietly. But he still says it, and Jake heard it very well.
“Watch? Are you serious?” He asks, knitting his brows together “You want me to watch how you fuck my girlfriend?” he lets out a nervous giggle, ignoring the shivers that run down his spine at the idea.
Sunghoon throws the pillow back, and Jake catches it smoothly. “Okay, look, I know it sounds bad— like— very bad.” he starts, and licks his lips. Jake looks at him with brows knitted together, eyes as big as ever. Sunghoon looks away from his heavy gaze for a moment. “But, if you think about it… You have to work on your skills. You have to control yourself, to not get jealous.”
“Come on, my jealousy is not that bad”
“You called me to talk about how much it irritates you that your girlfriend went out with her friends to do a project for school” Sunghoon says, in a tone that makes Jake look childish and dumb.
“Well, yes—”
“The call lasted for two hours. You said it yourself. Your mind can't stop making up shit”
Jake bites down his lip until it bleeds, looking Sunghoon up and down for a flash of moment, trying to take in what he's saying exactly. It's not that bad. You would never actually cheat on him, right? You wouldn't fall for his best friend.
“Okay”
“What? Really?” Sunghoon asks, surprised at the sudden mind changing. He would never have thought that Jake would let him even try to flirt with you, but letting him fuck you was the bigger thing that made his heart skip a beat. If things go well, obviously. The fact that he would watch it is just cherry on top.
“Yes” Jake lets out a huff and stands up, walking to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. After this conversation he will need something way stronger than water tonight.
Sunghoon follows him, still being flabbergasted by Jake's words. “I can't believe you actually said yes”
Jake turns away from the sink, facing the overly happy Sunghoon “Go home before I change my mind”
-
A few days, maybe two weeks have passed since the agreement with Sunghoon, and Jake would lie if he would say he was able to stop thinking about it. When you got home, he welcomed you with kisses and hugs, and you could practically not scrape him off of you until you went to sleep.
He even milked information out of you, making you tell him every single detail about your night. Honestly, it wasn't big of a deal. Meeting your friends for project work never was. You tried to tell Jake about the details of the biological research you guys did, but he didn't care about that. Obviously.
All the things Sunghoon said kept him up at night. What the bigger trouble was is that he didn't only imagine him flirting with you and felt jealous. That wasn't the case at all. The thing is that he didn't feel even a grain of jealousy as he imagined you with him.
His mind kept going back to Sunghoon sitting on the couch in a black sleeveless top and black sweatpants, practically begging him to let him flirt with you. He couldn't help, but he had to admit that he found it a little bit hot. Imagining that Sunghoon, his best friend, getting intimate with you, his girlfriend, was even hotter.
He'd been thinking about Sunghoon so much in the past few days that he had to realize that he found his best friend attractive. Was he okay with that? Jake didn't know. Because even though he found Sunghoon visually appealing, and the thought of him pounding into you made him hard, he still had you. His girlfriend.
The girlfriend he protected at all cost, the girlfriend he jerked off to on the nights you were out with your friends, working on whatever biology project you had. The girlfriend he loved and admired with his full heart.
Besides, who said he can’t find two people attractive at the same time? He isn't in love with Sunghoon, his best friend since high school. He is still in love with you.
And jerking off to two people in the shower while you were away was even more exciting. It felt a little forbidden, dangerous.
It was always the same scenario that had popped up in his mind; Sunghoon fucking deep into you while your moans are echoing in the room. He sits on a chair, watching and touching himself.
This fantasy in his mind made him come so hard he didn't even know he was able to be all alone, without you. So he let himself keep going. And he didn't tell you, he was way too worried that you would break up with him.
The small plus that Sunghoon planted the idea into his mind in the first place made it at least three times better, because he kept remembering that this was an agreement at the end of the day. It might happen in real life too.
You were surprised when Jake let you go for the night easily, even though you never mentioned you are working on the project with your friends or anything like that. You had no idea about the fact that when you were not home, he was playing with himself while thinking of you and his best friend. Sometimes together, sometimes not.
The truth is that you started to feel like the atmosphere was suffocating. Sure, in the past week you were working on the school project with Sunoo and Jungwon (your friends), but school made you so depressed at the same time.
Coming home after a long day on campus and having your boyfriend kissing every inch of skin on your body was good, sometimes. However there were times when all you wanted to do is sleep without feeling any worry of school or anything. You felt like you were missing out on that.
“Really?” Sunoo’s voice drops, looking at you like you just told him that you are pregnant.
“I'm serious. Not even a ‘the project again?’, he just said yes” you shrug as you explain, pulling your glass of cocktail closer to take a sip from the straw.
Jungwon chuckles “That's not your boyfriend, y/n. Somebody stole him and cloned him, I’m telling you”
The conversation by the bar counter is interrupted by the overly hot bartender who has been looking at you all night, practically eye fucking but who cares about the details. He steps closer when he sees Sunoo's glass being empty and gives you a soft smile. “Another one of those?” he asks, and Sunoo nods.
You watch as he works on the drink, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up perfectly on his arms, just so his forearms are flexing with every move.
He tosses the glass to Sunoo on the black marble counter when he's done and walks away back to his colleagues.
“Girl” Jungwon slaps your arm playfully “I know Jake is still your boyfriend even though he acts suspiciously careless but that was crazy”
You laugh, eyes flickering between him and Sunoo “What was crazy?”
“Eye fucking with the bartender on a random friday night” Jungwon adds “Now that's something”
“I mean, If you were single or if he wasn't hot I would say it's nothing” Sunoo says, chugging down the rest of his own drink “But Park Sunghoon is something”
You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear at the mention of the name, your eyes finding Sunghoon in the corner again, his eyes still glued to you although he's chatting with one of the other bartenders.
“He’s the hottest boy on campus” Sunoo looks at him too, shaking his head.
This whatever thing between you and Sunghoon started around two weeks ago. You already knew him - somewhat - because he's your boyfriend's best friend, but you never had a conversation with him. That changed two weeks ago, when he randomly came up to you after class. He asked if you needed a ride home, and he was just so bubbly and kind that you had to say yes. After that, he might’ve taken that as a sign that you wanted to get closer to him, because he kept inviting you to the bar where he worked after school, he kept offering you rides home which you gladly accepted, and he kept saying you should go to the library together sometime.
You weren't exactly against getting closer with him. Sure, you had Jake, and Sunghoon was his best friend but all this time Sunghoon’s sudden change of behavior just suggested that he wanted to be friends with you. He knew you were Jake's girlfriend.
Talking with him felt different than talking with Jake. It's not that you weren't absolutely obsessed with Jake, being with that man felt like winning the lottery, but Sunghoon was approaching you with kindness. He cared about your day while he drove you home, at least he pretended to care about it. Sometimes he even asked back about your biology project you’ve been working on with Sunoo and Jungwon, and you often caught him smiling at you while you talked about the interesting — for you, for someone it could be boring — facts about fishes and their behavior.
In the past few days you might have realized that Sunghoon made you feel in some kind of way. Something scarily close to how Jake made you feel. However, it didn't make you question your feelings for Jake. It made you confused, but you decided to ignore that and enjoy both of their presence at the times when you were with them.
“Whatever.” You shake your head, turning it away from Sunghoon and fixing it on your glass instead “I would never leave Jake. Besides, Sunghoon is only my friend.”
Sunoo sighs, running a hand through his blond hair “I don't want to say anything that would mess up your mind, but Sunghoon definitely wants you too”
-
Your fingers are tangled in Jake’s black locks, pushing him closer to your dripping folds as he devours you. You are laying on your bed, you just got back from a long school day. He told you he couldn't wait for you to get home, and as soon as you stepped inside, he kissed you like he never did before.
When he made you lay down on the edge of the bed and spread your legs, you noticed he was already hard but you didn't question it.
This time, you let your thoughts leave your mind, letting him do whatever he wanted with you.
He let out a gasp, his breath caressing your exposed core so heavenly. He backs up a little and looks up at you. You don't look at him, you keep your eyes on the ceiling, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets next to you.
He swallows and gets back to work, carefully tracing your wetness with his tongue, then he slurps on your clit. You let out a moan at that, but it sounds lifeless.
You enjoy it for sure, you always enjoy it when he eats you out or does intimate things with you. This time you promised yourself to let the thoughts escape your mind, to finally let go a little. However you couldn't stop the thoughts of Park Sunghoon flowing into your mind, and you hated it. A little bit.
“Is this good?” His voice is soft, his index finger reaching up to your clit as he begins to do circular moves on it.
“Yes” you say, trying to sound breathless, but your voice is concerningly firm.
He pushes down harder, the sudden sensation on the bundle of nerves makes you arch your back and let out a moan. He smirks at the sound you make and keeps doing the same movement with his finger. With his other hand, he traces your entrance, teasing the wet hole before he pushes his index and middle finger inside at the same time.
The sounds you make are finally genuine, and you grip his hair tightly to hold onto something.
“Fuck, you are so tight” he hisses, curling his fingers upwards to press it to your walls.
You whimper “Fuck, Hoon”
Jake is in the middle of speeding up when you let out those two words. He stops immediately, eyes snapping up from your core right into meeting your eyes.
He pulls out his fingers and wipes it in the sheets. Your heart is beating faster than ever in your chest when you see his sharp look, and you feel like it's about to explode at any moment.
“Jake, I’m sorry I don't know why—”
He stands up, smoothing his sweatpants out, trying to hide his painfully obvious erect. “Why?” is all he asks, voice coming out more shy than he intended it. He swallows hard, you see the way his Adams apple bobs in his throat.
The lack of reaction surprises you. When the name slipped out of your mouth, you thought he would snap and yell at you. Knowing how possessive Jake can be, especially at a vulnerable moment like during sex, you would've never thought he would just ask why.
That's why you didn't know what to say.
You prop yourself on your forearm, observing the way he crossed his arms in front of his chest “I’m sorry” you apologize once again.
“Did he fuck you?”
Your eyes widen, and you feel your cheeks turning crimson at the sudden question. You should’ve expected this one. “No,” you shook your head. “I wouldn't cheat on you”
“Then why did you say his name? Out of all people” Jake hisses, his mind going back to the agreement once again. The same agreement he just couldn't get his mind off in the past weeks. Seems like you and him are on the same page, yet it hurts him so bad.
You bite down your lips, sitting down fully on the bed. You try to cover your exposed breasts with your arms, suddenly feeling way too naked and vulnerable in front of him.
“I can't lie to you” you begin, taking a deep breath “He has been approaching me in the past weeks, for some reason. He’s very kind, but I thought his intentions were to become friends. I mean, Sunghoon knows you are my boyfriend, right?” you try and look up, into his intense gaze. “I didn't even notice but I guess I… fantasized about him a little. In the past days. But, that doesn't mean I don't love you, Jake. You are my everything and you know that”
The end of the monologue sounds like you just tried to save your skin, but when you look at him again you see him listening to your every word. And by listening I mean he actually looks like he was interested in what you said, unlikely when you told him about the biology project.
“So” he sits down on the edge of the bed, turning away from you “You want both of us?” he fidgets with his nail.
You have to think that through for a moment. You were more than confused in the past weeks, the sudden approaching by Sunghoon made your whole world flip around, but you still love Jake. No one could ever question your feelings for him. So, looking at these things all together, you could say yes. It was just weird to think about it like that, because you sounded greedy.
“Yes” you say in a bitten whisper, between your teeth.
You fix your gaze on your knees, but after a silent beat, you look up. Though, Jake doesn't even have a cool spot on the bed where he had been sitting before.
Great. He got up and ran away or something, because when you went out to the kitchen + living room, he wasn't there either.
Oh, what have you done…
-
“What's up, pretty?”
You jolt your head up at the familiar voice, being faced with the smiley Sunghoon. “Why are you all alone?”
You shrug, looking back at the top of the barcounter, trying not to cry. It has been two hours since the thing between you and Jake, and after you dressed up you made your way straight to the bat where Sunghoon works, you don't know why either. That was the dumbest place you could’ve ran away to.
During these two hours, two different waiters served you, and Sunghoon just started his shift around twenty minutes ago.
“What's wrong?” his voice softens, tilting his head as he observes you.
You, you want to say, but that would be a little rude.
“Nothing” you bark instead, fidgeting with your own finger instead of looking up at him.
He pushes his tongue to the inside of his cheek, taking your state in for a few moments before he slaps his palms on the countertop. “Alright” he begins “I see that you are sad, so, what about coming with me tonight for dinner? I’ll cheer you up?” he tries, looking at you with puppy eyes.
You sigh, trying not to smile at his sweetness “Sunghoon, you know I have a boyfriend… who also happens to be your best friend. You can't keep doing this” your stomach twists as soon as you say the word ‘boyfriend’ out loud. Do you really have a boyfriend? You can absolutely not handle Jake breaking up with you. If something, that will ruin you.
You swallow hard, and just like if he could read your mind, he says:
“Something happened between you and Jake?” He says it like it's a statement rather than a question. Though, he doesn't seem so concerned about it. His tone is filled with curiosity.
How ironic, Sunghoon being the one who's asking this question “It's complicated.” you say, trying to close the topic as soon as possible.
“You know you can tell me,” he presses.
You clench your jaw tightly, hesitating if you should tell him about the little story or not. The way he looks at you, black shirt sleeves rolled up on his forearm while his palms are on the countertop, tilting his head and looking so cute but also masculine at the same time… it's driving you crazy. “He was eating me out and I kind of might have said a different name. That's all” you say, and the sudden topic of your and Jake's sex life makes him freeze in place for a moment.
“Really?” his voice is slightly more high pitched than before, you don't miss that. He crosses his arms and leans on the countertop, leaning forward to be able to whisper “And what name did you say?”
You swallow the lump in your throat, getting lost in his dark eyes. He frowns with his thick eyebrows, his expression seeming more serious than before “Yours”
He leans back, humming to himself. The loss of his presence close to you lingers in the air as he moves away to the sink, grabbing a glass and drying it with a towel. “Hm, that's interesting, cuz’ me and Jake have a… how do I say it… an agreement ” he says casually, not looking up while doing his work.
You knit your brows together in confusion. What is he talking about?
“What agreement ?”
“We figured Jake has to work on his obvious jealousy issues. So, we made a bet that if you fall for my flirting and want to have sex with me, he has to watch it” he places the glass down next to the other ones with a clinking sound that feels heavy in the bar, because in your mind suddenly everything else is silenced. His tone is so calm and casual it nearly makes your blood boil.
Your heart pounds against your chest heavily. Was it all a game to him? - that is one of the main questions inside your head right now, and you rather shove down the part inside of you which felt excited about the idea.
He turns to you, and his heavy gaze breaks the train of thoughts inside your head. “I guess saying my name during sex makes it up too” he offers a smile.
You don't smile back at him. He lets out a small laugh at your confused reaction, ducking his head down for a moment.
“So, are you in, angel?” he tilts his head, his smile as sweet as ever.
You bite down your lower lip and nod without hesitation. You love Jake, you really do, but Sunghoon has been driving you crazy since you talked with him for the first time. Having them two at the same time sounds a little bit too good to be true. You knew you had to decide as fast as possible.
He hums in approval, walking around the counter so he can be next to you. “I didn't think you would say yes this fast”
You shrug, finally smiling back at him. Sunghoon leans closer to press a small kiss at your earlobe before he whispers “I’ll give you a ride home”
-
Sitting on the passenger seat next to Sunghoon who is holding the steering wheel with one hand while his other is swinging out of the window has never been so awkward. You don’t even attempt to take a glance at him, feeling too embarrassed.
The air feels oddly suffocating, and your heart is still pounding in your chest. You couldn't stop thinking about Jake ever since you got out of the bar. Last time you were home, he magically disappeared. So, where is he? Did he really run away? Did he get home after that?
Upbeat music radiating from the radio snaps you out of your thoughts, and you finally take a gaze at Sunghoon who is humming along with the beat, tapping on the outside of his car’s door with his fingers.
He must have turned the radio up not so long ago, because you clearly remember the dead silence that filled the car a few minutes ago. Seems like you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice it.
“Traffic is shit these days” he comments to himself, pulling out sunglasses from the glove box and sliding it on the bridge of his nose with a smooth move.
You are currently stuck in the traffic for the past twenty minutes, which makes this whole situation even more embarrassing for you, knowing where you are going with what suppose.
You turn away from the window to look at him, getting tired from looking at the same damn electricity pole in these past minutes. “Do you think he's home now?”
When you got into the car, you decided to tell him about every single detail, including the one where he literally disappears out of nowhere.
Sunghoon nods, keeping his eyes on the road.
You furrow your brows “How are you so confident?”
Without a word, he reaches to the backseat, rummaging in his bag for his phone. He hands it to you, the chat with Jake being opened.
you : dude, u fr ran away? dont be a pussy lol. we had an agreement , remember?
Jake : i know. i just needed time to think, thats all
you : are you home now, babyboy?
Jake : yes
Jake : babyboy…?
you : nice, me n yn are going to your place like rn
Jake : what? why?
Your eyes scan the messages, your hands gripping the phone a little bit too tightly. “You don't want to answer him or what's up with the last message?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, not being bothered by it in the slightest “We’ll tell him everything once we get there”
“Makes sense,” you mumble, throwing his phone at the backseat. “Baby Boy?”
A smile tugs in the corner of his lips, but he bites it down “Just joking”
-
The golden light of the sunset from outside creeps its way into the room through the small gap between the curtains, shining at the spot right where you and Sunghoon sit on yours and Jake's bed, making out.
You both sit on your knees, he has one of his hands on your waist to keep you stable while he stuffs your mouth with his tongue and you let out small moans.
When you got to Jake’s and your place, Sunghoon explained everything to Jake. He said he was still in the deal, and you guys basically started it right away. It still felt somewhat absurd, especially because you never would've thought Jake would like this kind of stuff.
So, that's why you and Sunghoon are sitting on the middle of the king sized bed, while Jake sits on a chair settled right in front of the bed, watching you. His eyes are flickering between you and Sunghoon, unsure who to watch.
Sunghoon kisses differently than Jake. He’s more rough, like there's no tomorrow. He moves his lips on yours like if it's possible to eat you up, then he is able to do it.
You can feel Jake's eyes on you, but when you open yours for a moment and glance at him, you see that his eyes are fixated on Sunghoon. He sits still. His posture is straight, his arms are awkwardly on his lap and he doesn't move.
You would be worried that he feels uncomfortable, but Jake himself said it: he’s still in the deal. And you don't have time to overthink it, since Sunghoon bites down your lip, and you can't help the sound that comes out of you.
“Fuck” you mumble, pulling back to take off your shirt.
Sunghoon doesn't try to be subtle with his staring, his eyes immediately set on your red lacy bra, and you see Jake's eyes looking at you from the corner of your eyes too.
You gulp, straightening your back to push out your chest more. You can't help but feel both excited and nervous at the feeling of their eyes on you, looking up and down at you hungrily.
In the next moments, Sunghoon takes off his shirt too, and your eyes fly to his toned abs. His upper body is perfectly worked out, from his wide shoulders to his small waist.
He glances at Jake, then smirks at you when he looks back. “Alright” he starts, and grabs you by your wrists.
Before you could ask what he's doing he makes you sit at the end of the bed, leaning your back against the bed frame as you face Jake now, who’s sitting impatiently in the chair in front of the bed.
Sunghoon shifts next to you and grabs your jaw firmly, turning your head away from Jake to kiss you deeply, his tongue moving roughly in your mouth. While one of his hands holds your jaw, his other makes its way down to your chest, teasingly hovering over one of your boobs. Then he caresses your skin between your breasts with his index and middle finger, making your back arch up in anticipation. He smiles into the kiss and moves his hand lower, pushing down your stomach slightly.
“Sunghoon” you moan softly into the kiss.
“Shh” he pulls away, licking his lips “let's put on a show for him”
Your eyes shift to Jake, who’s leaning a little bit forward in his chair. Sunghoon’s hand moves to the button of your jeans. He’s unbuttoning it so slowly that you are sure if he doesn't rip it off of you in the upcoming few seconds your wetness will be visible on your pants.
When he finally undoes it and pulls it down, throwing it away next to the bed, he grabs both of your thighs, still sitting next to you and giving Jake a clear view as he spreads your legs.
Jake bites down his lower lip, palming the front of his own — now very uncomfortable — jeans.
You eye his very obvious bulge, trying to keep the sounds in your throat, but it's getting harder with each second. You can't stop thinking about both of them ruining you, even though the agreement was only about Jake watching you and Sunghoon.
You pull up your knees, and Sunghoon moves his palm to your core, massaging your wetness with his slender fingers. He pushes down roughly, and you moan.
“Fuck, Hoon” you hum, one of your hands going up to grab onto the bed frame.
Sunghoon’s eyes shift to the top of the bed frame, and he smiles down at you “Great idea” he starts, and you frown your brows at him.
“Do you have any handcuffs?” he asks, his voice sounding way too innocent for this question.
You stutter, making eye contact with Jake who's silent “Uh- yeah it's in the front drawer”
Sunghoon pulls out the said drawer on the bedside table and laughs at the sight “I knew you are a nasty ass couple. I fucking knew it”
He pulls out two pink handcuffs and grabs your hands, handcuffing them together. “Is this okay?”
He asks, and when you nod he moves them above your head, cuffing them to the bedframe with the other handcuff.
“Don't be too greedy” he comments and moves his hand down again, his fingers circling through the wet fabric rougher than before.
“Hmpp— Sunghoon—” you choke out, closing your eyes.
Sunghoon looks at Jake, who still has his right hand on his clothed cock, palming it heavily. “Jake, you should look at yourself now. You look so pathetic.”
A small whimper leaves Jake, and you snap your eyes open to look at his flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids. “You haven't touched yourself because I haven't told you yet. What a good boy” Sunghoon adds, then looks back at you.
You would be lying if the dirty talk he spoke (yes, even with your boyfriend) didn't turn you on even more. Besides, you are sure you look even more pathetic than Jake, being tied up helplessly and laying on the bed, looking up at him with big eyes.
Sunghoon leans down and presses a kiss in-between your breasts, and god, you want to grab onto his hair so much, but all you can do is to ball up your fists desperately. He hooks his fingers onto both sides of your red panties and pulls them down with a smooth move, throwing it aside probably around where your jeans landed too.
He looks up at you, shaking his head “Wearing matching underwear, what a slut”
He glances at Jake again “Do you want to see me finger her?” he asks, voice rough.
Jake nods heavily, and you’ve never in your life seen him being so submissive. Especially for another male, now if something, that was new.
“Good” he turns his head back to you again as he mumbles, and he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead “I’m going to be rough to make him suffer more” he whispers in your ear like it's some secret. “Is that okay, love?”
And you can't help but nod your head, not knowing exactly what you are signing up for. “Yes”
He gently licks your earlobe, but before you could fully focus on that interesting sensation, his fingers firmly penetrate your leaking hole, making you nearly scream.
“Oh my—” you arch your back, and you hear him chuckling next to your ear.
He doesn't start off slowly or anything like that, no, instead he moves his ring and middle finger in and out in a fast rhythm. The wetness of your pussy makes it way easier to move, but he still struggles to set up a steady rhythm at first.
You look at Jake through your knees, he’s biting down his lip so hard it probably bleeds by now. You imagine what he could be thinking about: he probably wishes it was him who was fingering you so hard, and not his best friend.
Sunghoon lets out a deep sigh, his own aching bulge making it hard for him to keep his rhythm steady and not stutter with his fingers. It's also Jake's presence that feels heavy, but having both of you under his dominance makes his ego boost.
Sunghoon glances at Jake, and the sight of him, being so desperate to touch himself yet so silent, almost makes his jaw drop. His face is so red, his skin is probably aching for a touch. Sunghoon finds himself wanting to touch his best friend, but he looks back at you quicker than ever when you let out a breathy moan, distracting him.
“You can—” he clears his throat, looking back at Jake who's listening to his every word closely “Touch yourself.” he adds in a commanding voice.
And he doesn't have to tell Jake twice, who is already out of his pants when you look at him while Sunghoon’s long fingers curl inside of you, your mouth hanging agape as you watch him getting out of his boxer, sitting down at the chair with his hard dick in his hand. He has his eyes on you, his precious girlfriend, prettier than ever, laying on the bed, offering yourself like you are a whore.
Sunghoon suddenly adds a third finger, and your vision goes dizzy for a second, letting out a guttural moan. “Take it” is all he tells you.
The stretch is insane, you feel like your walls are about to rip at any moment. He slows down as he sees you struggling, his other hand caressing your hair softly.
He shifts his gaze to Jake again, who is groaning helplessly in the chair now, leaning back as he strokes his cock.
“Don't cum” Sunghoon says to Jake, and he pulls his fingers out of you too.
You take deep breaths, disappointed at the fact that he didn't let you or Jake come.
He fixates his eyes on Jake, moving his hand to his own hardness now. “What do you want?” he asks gently.
Jake lets go of his shaft, grabbing the armrest of the chair. He hesitates before talking, his eyes flickering between Sunghoon and you “I— Can you kiss me too?”
The question comes a little unexpected, and you frown your brow at Sunghoon for a moment, just to scan his reaction. He looks surprised too, but he doesn't back up. If anything, he gets on all fours and crawls to the end of the bed, looking at Jake for the whole time.
He doesn't even look back at you, and Jake doesn't bother to take a glance at you either, they just lean in as Sunghoon approaches the man in the chair. Sunghoon kisses him just like he kissed you before: roughly.
It's torture, because you know exactly how it feels and you know exactly what must Jake feel. The latter’s hands wrap on the sides of Sunghoon’s face, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.
You can't look away from them. Both of them are undeniably hot, and seeing them kiss is also not the least attractive thing you've seen. Sunghoon sits on his knees so he can run his fingers through Jake's dark locks, his fingers grasping his hair into his fists. They look like this is practice for them, like they have been doing this since they knew how to kiss.
You hear Jake whimper into the kiss, Sunghoon probably bit down his lip. Then, Sunghoon yanks Jake back by his hair, making him look up, a string of saliva still connecting their lips together. “You are so needy, Jae” he smirks and lets go “Sit with your back to the bedframe. I want you to have a clear view”
Jake just nods and crawls to the bedframe, leaning his back against it as he sits down next to you. He’s too embarrassed to look down at you, but you look at him. You have never seen Jake this desperate and needy in your whole life, and it was such a big turn on. He looks pitiful and embarrassed, face red and hair messy because Sunghoon messed it up during their kiss.
However, you don't have much time to enjoy the view of Jake, because Sunghoon stands next to you and undoes the handcuffs that kept you still by the bed.
He leads you to the end of the bed by your wrists, gesturing you to sit down on the edge of the bed. You do as he tells you, laying down and propping yourself on your forearms to look up at him from under your lashes.
In this position, you see nothing of Jake who's sitting by the bed frame, his semi-hard cock already in his hand again, stroking it vaguely. You only see Sunghoon who squats down in front of you, his eyes shifting behind your back, at Jake.
“What do you want me to do to her?” He asks, like you aren't even there.
There's a silent beat before the answer comes. “Undo her bra. I want to see her breasts bounce while you fuck her”
Jake’s voice is firm again now, seems like he gained back his confidence he usually has when it's just the two of you. Sunghoon gives him a sly smirk before turning back his attention to you, looking at you like you are the only woman in the world. He pulls his eyebrows together as he looks up, eyes big like a puppy's.
“Can I undo your bra, angel?”
You nod your head, and his hands are already caressing your back up and down as he reaches for the back of your bra and undoes it with a soft click that feels like an echo in the silent room. You hear Jake murmur when Sunghoon throws your bra away and looks at him. “You want to see her breasts, hm? It must feel so bad that you can't see them right now and it's me seeing them. They look pretty good, right, Jae?”
You hear something behind your back, and you recognize the sound : Jake is definitely stroking himself again. Sunghoon’s dirty talk works on him better than anything else, and even though it surprises you it makes you oddly turned on too.
“They are so round, and the nipples are so hard…” he continues, now setting his eyes on your breasts. Jake knows all of it, he knows how your breasts look like more than anything else, but now he only can see your back and it makes him impatient. “Angel, your breasts are perfect” Sunghoon softens his voice, it's crazy that you can make a difference between when he's talking to Jake and when he's talking to you so easily. His whole demeanor changes. “Can I fuck these pretty tits? Please?”
He still squats in front of you and his hands are on your sides, thumbs softly pushing your stomach down as he looks up at you with his pretty, thick eyebrows knitted together. You just can't say no to this. You bob your head, and he finally reaches town to his pants to free his cock that's aching to be touched.
There's pre-cum spilling out of his flushed tip, and he smears it over his cock with his hand before he stands up in front of you, looking over your head straight at Jake like you were only here when he was squatting in front of you.
“Baby, I don't want to waste lube yet…” Sunghoon grabs your hair and yanks your head so you look up at him as he offers you a sweet smile “Would you be so kind and let me use your mouth instead?” He lets your hair loose so you can nod, no words coming out of your mouth.
He moves his hand from your hair to your face and grabs your jaw as he pushes his thumb into your mouth eagerly, forcing you to open it. Sunghoon slightly slaps your cheek before letting your jaw go and he puts his leaking cock to the tip of your tongue. He pushes in slowly, and he moans when he meets the warmness of your saliva, your tongue immediately licking the part of his cock that entered your mouth.
You lick off all the pre-cum that has leaked in your mouth and begin to move your head, looking up at him from under your lashes while doing it. However his gaze doesn't meet yours, he has his eyes fixed on Jake who still sits in the end of the bed with spread legs, but he's not touching himself anymore. He's completely silent as he watches the scene unfold before him.
You do your work and bob your head at Sunghoon’s cock while he stays still, one of his hands tangling in your hair to lead you slightly. There's a vein going down from the base of his cock to his tip, and you slide your tongue across it earning a soft whimper.
After a few moments he averts his gaze away from Jake and suddenly pulls out of your mouth, slapping your cheek again slightly in a form of appreciation. “Fuck, angel, you did such a good job” he comments, his gaze flickering between you and your boyfriend “He taught you so well how to suck dick, you could be a whore by now”
Jake's brows furrow together at the mention of you with other men, but he doesn't say a word. He lets Sunghoon talk. “Though he is very possessive of you so that isn't in your vision board, I’m guessing” he lets out a laugh “But… seems like he doesn't mind it when you are with me. He's still hard, even though he already jerked off once”
Sunghoon eyes Jake, and he looks at him like he's just a piece of meat and nothing else. His eyes darted from his flushed face and sharp eyes to his lap and a sly smile tugs in the corner of his lips “Or am I that special, Jae?”
Jake runs a hand through his messy black hair, looking away from Sunghoon’s dark gaze. “You are not special, it's just a one time thing” he murmurs.
“A one time thing?” Sunghoon repeats mockingly “Don't act like you don't jerk off to the image of me and your girlfriend together”
You furrow your brows confusedly at that, looking up at Sunghoon who still has his eyes on the man behind your back “Sunghoon…” you try to hush him
“It’s none of your business” Jake barks
“It’s hot” Sunghoon says back, like it's the most casual thing ever. But was their friendship ever casual?
Before Jake could say anything at that, before he could address everything, that he might have slight feelings for his best friend too, Sunghoon is looking at you again.
“You warmed up my cock so well, love” he reaches down to grope your breast, pinching your nipple that makes you let out a choked sound. “It’s time to ruin these cuties”
He bites down his bottom lip as he moves closer to you again, pushing his hard and flushed cock between your breasts. “Push them together” he commands, and you do as you were told.
He slides his cock upward, the saliva you left on it and the pre-cum it's mixed with makes it move easily. He rolls his hips, watching as his cock slides between your breasts while you push them together so they wrap around it better. “Fuck” Sunghoon’s thrusts stutter while more and more pre-cum leak out of his cock. But before he could come, he grabs onto your shoulders and pushes himself away from you, leaving you with your breasts covered in your own saliva and his pre-cum.
He looks over at Jake again to see his reaction, and he just sits there while eyeing Sunghoon with his head tilted back toward the bedframe.
“Do you want to fuck her?” Sunghoon asks, and you turn your head around to look at him too.
Jake's eyes flicker between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he shakes his head which surprises you. “You fuck her. That was in the agreement.”
“Let's make another agreement,” Sunghoon suggests, looking at both of you. “If you’ll be a good boy and won't touch yourself while I fuck your girlfriend, we both fuck her. How about this?”
Jake nods with you at the same time, totally synched up. Having both of them in you is all you want right now. Not just Sunghoon, not just Jake, but both of them at the same time.
“Awesome” Sunghoon smiles, his gaze darkening “Jake you sit back in the chair, y/n you go to the side of the bed.” he commands, and Jake practically jumps out of the bed to sit back into his chair that's placed in front of the bed.
“Let's make sure you’ll be good for me” Sunghoon says as he walks over to Jake with both handcuffs in his hands, clicking them open to handcuff his hands to the armrests. After he’s done, he gives him a satisfied smirk. “Now you definitely won't touch yourself, right?” he looks down at Jake who is now totally tied up to the chair. Then after a few silent moments, Sunghoon decides to lean forward and click one of the handcuffs open. Jake blinks up at him.
“You know what? The choice is in your hands, Jae. I give you the right to touch yourself but… as you can see, I left one of the handcuffs on for a reason.” He turns around, not giving any more shit about Jake.
You sit down on the edge of the bed, but Sunghoon gestures to you to stand up instead. “Turn around and bend over, beautiful”
You get on fours on the bed and bend over slowly, arching your back teasingly to put a show up for him. Sunghoon bites down his lip as he watches your ass get in the air and your chest pushed down to the sheets. He puts his hands on your waist possessively, pulling you closer to himself. “What a good girl” he murmurs as he strokes his cock and places it to your entrance, then pushes in firmly without any warning. You grasp the sheets in your fists, trying to swallow a high-pitched scream.
He begins to move easily, thrusting deep into you with every roll of his hips until you become a moaning mess. Sunghoon on his own is groaning after every move, enjoying how deep he can go inside you to fill you up.
He places one of his hands on the arch of your back while his other hand lingers on your waist, digging his thumbnail into the skin of your stomach. Your walls wrap around him so perfectly like you were meant to be filled up with his length, too bad it's Jake who owns you.
You try to keep your head down on the mattress while Sunghoon pounds into you, the skin-to-skin sound filling up the room. Jake sits in the chair eagerly, trying so hard to not touch himself. It’s hard, because he can feel his cock twitch every time he sees Sunghoon penetrate you deeply as your pussy drips.
Sunghoon’s hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you by your hair so you can talk. “You like it?” he asks, breathless.
“Yes” you cry out, feeling a drop of tear spilling from your eye “Please Sunghoon keep fucking me like this” you beg.
Sunghoon smiles and furrows his brows in pleasure as you arch your back even more so he can hit you just at the right angle. “You heard that, Jake?” he turns his head towards his friend, who grabs the armrest so hard that his knuckles have turned white. “He likes how I fuck her”
Jake swallows hard, biting the inside of his cheek down as he feels the rage building up in himself. This scenario only worked well in his head — he thinks, though he's undeniably hard again.
With a long groan, Sunghoon pulls out of you and strokes himself, pushing your back down with his hand to make you arch deeper. “Good girl” he says when he sees you back shrinking down deeper, and after a few moments he spills his cum all over your back with a soft whimper escaping him.
“Shit” he mumbles when he comes, making a mess of your back. Then, he looks at Jake who’s still sitting in his chair helplessly, one hand cuffed to the armrests and the other grasping the other armrest as hard as he can, trying to restrain himself.
“You listened to me.” Sunghoon states, analyzing Jake’s state by looking him up and down. “You are so cute like this, Jae. Just sitting in your small chair whining like a puppy while you try to restrain yourself from touching. But you’ll do it eventually, right? Because when you put food in front of a puppy and tell him to not eat, he’ll eat it after a few desperate whines anyway.” He leans forward, their faces close together while you still try to gain yourself together on the bed. “Right?”
“Just… undo the handcuff already” Jake turns his head away, feeling like he can't look into his best friend’s eyes right now. Not like this. Not in this state. He reaches his cuffed hand as much as he can towards Sunghoon, the chain clinking slightly as he shakes it.
Sunghoon hums but then gives in and undoes the handcuff, letting Jake’s hand totally free. Now he's not under his mercy, not anymore. Jake massages his red wrist with his other hand, fixing his gaze on his own hands instead of looking at Sunghoon who’s still hovering above him.
“So, are you going to analyze the veins on your hand or would you rather come to see that beauty laying in your bed, hm?” Jake finally looks up and glances at you, who’s sitting on the bed with messy hair and a dirty back. You make eye contact with him for a thin moment, but you both realize it's a bit awkward.
You’ve never been this vulnerable in this relationship, and neither had him. It’s a new thing, and you aren't sure how things will be after this night.
Jake walks over to you and leans down to hint a kiss on your forehead. It’s the most gentle thing that has happened to you today. Then, he cups your cheeks with his hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. “Are you okay?” he whispers, only for you to hear. You nod your head in his hands, opening your eyes to look at him.
Jake pulls away from you, letting your face go. Then, he looks at Sunghoon, something pitiful in his eyes. “So, did I do good?” a small smile tugs in the corner of his lips as he asks, and Sunghoon just lets out a laugh.
“Of course you did” Sunghoon answers, folding his arms in front of his chest “You earn a prize” then, both of them look at you as you sit on the edge of the bed and they are towering right in front of you.
You suddenly stand up from your place and walk over to them, grabbing both of their heads and pushing them close to each other until their lips meet. Then, you pull your hands away and just watch as the scene unfolds in front of you and they deepen the kiss, Jake’s tongue darting out to lick Sunghoon's lips.
Their hands can't find their places, Jake sometimes grabs onto Sunghoon's neck while Sunghoon's hands get glued to his waist, but they grope each other hungrily everywhere they can touch.
You sit back on the bed to spread your legs, your hand going down to your core. You start to message your clit, watching them kissing each other. Jake lets out a small moan when Sunghoon goes down with his head, kissing on his neck now. He bites and sucks the skin there, and Jake runs his hand into his dark locks “Fuck, Hoon”
Your thumb remains on doing circular moves on your clitoris while you move your middle and index finger between your folds, sliding them down and up. You feel the tension building up in your nerves as the two men in front of you get hungrier and more in heat. Sunghoon goes lower and bites Jake’s collarbone, and Jake can't help but close his eyes to enjoy, feeling every wave of heat the kiss brings go down to his arousal.
“Can I… can” Jake mumbles between small whines, and you push your middle finger in your pulsing hole. “Can I choose a — ah— prize?”
Sunghoon backs up, looking at him with wide eyes “What do you mean?”
Jake bites down his lip, unsure if he should really say his thoughts out loud. “Would you give me head?”
“What?”
Jake feels his cheeks becoming crimson color, and he turns away “Nevermind”
You stop your movements and pull your finger out of yourself, watching all of this with pure curiosity. What is up with Jake? Since when is he like this?
“Okay, you fucked up the whole mood” Sunghoon says as he walks around the room to collect his clothes, already putting his shirt back up.
“But what about Jake’s prize? He didn't touch himself” you question, kind of confused and disappointed by the sudden cut-end of the night.
“Maybe next time” Sunghoon pulls his jeans up, doing his buttons. When he turns back around, he faces two blinking faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I thought this was… you know, a one time thing” Jake mumbles.
Sunghoon lets a laugh out “We already talked about this”
You and Jake share a look while Sunghoon looks for his socks then puts them on, after finding it eventually. “You want to keep doing this?” you dare to ask, and Sunghoon nods casually.
“Why not? Did you guys have fun? I think we can keep this thing up. As long as no one knows about it… I don't want people to think I’m a weird pervert or something”
“So you want to do it in secret” Jake says, nodding to himself as he lets the words sink in.
“Yeah” Sunghoon pulls his phone out of his jeans's pocket, checking his messages “Shit, I got called in for work stuff. I have to go.”
“We’ll talk about it, I guess” you add before he goes away, waving goodbye.
And in the next moment, you and Jake are left alone in complete silence, and for a moment you avoid his gaze. You feel that again, that weird vulnerable feeling you felt when you accidentally said Sunghoon's name while you two had sex. Fiddling with your fingers, you ask “Do you think it's a good idea?”
Jake folds his arms as he thinks for a moment, then nods “I’m not against it”
“What?” you question, genuinely surprised. That would mean he has to share you with someone, and last time you checked Jake definitely wasn't the type to do that. “You would share me with Sunghoon?”
“Look, I— I don't know, okay? He’s my best friend and I know you are in good hands when you are with him.” he stops for a moment, mouth going dry. “I have to work on my jealousy issues. They cloud my every day, and trust me y/n it’s not good. I hate it, I don't want to have it. I feel like this could help. Sunghoon is open minded and… well, you find him attractive, don't you?”
You bite down your lip until it bleeds a little, your teeth leaving a small wound on it. If he asked you this a few hours or days ago, you would definitely lie to this question. But now, everything has changed.
“Yes, I do”
“So are you in? It wouldn't be a big thing if it's just between the three of us, right?”
You hesitate for a moment before you say: “Yes”
A/N :: WOOHOOO!! if you reached the end of this, thank you for reading this story ♡ every like, comment (especially comments), reblogs and support is very very appreciated!! and don't be angry about this VERY open end because 🥁🥁🥁 part 2 is comingggg cuz i only wanted to make this as a short smut oneshot as funsies with no specific plot written down in my drafts but its already kinda long and i absolutely fell in love with this plot, and i feel like i can add so much more feelings and stuff to it!! so stay tuned, maybe this'll become my first series
IN WHICH ─── Sunghoon and you are having a little trouble while getting ready for a brunch, his morning wood couldn’t start the day without your morning dew.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut (MDNI), porn without plot
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : dom!sunghoon, swearing, manhandling, morning sex, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), reader has a WAP (again), big dick!sunghoon, kissing, skinship, use of nickname : baby
𝐰𝐜 : 1.6k {1.694}
❕# It's one of my fav so far hahaha, i'm starting to drool over him these days it's not even funny...But anyways :)) Dada is next ;)
INSPIRED BY : MORNING DEW (Donk) - Beyoncé
You stir slowly in the sheets, the summer heat already pressing down like a thick blanket even at 9 AM. Sunghoon’s arm is draped possessively over your waist, his bare chest flush against your back, skin slick with a light sheen of sweat from the night’s exertions and the warm morning air. The AC is on in the corner of the bedroom, doing little to cut through the humidity. Your body aches in the best way ; thighs sore, lips still tingling from countless kisses and rounds that melted into the early hours.
“Baby…” Sunghoon’s voice is low and raspy, still thick with sleep as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your damp skin. “We have to get up. Brunch with Jake and Jay in an hour.”
You groan softly and press back against him, refusing to open your eyes. “Three more minutes,” you mumble, pulling the thin sheet higher over your bodies even though it’s already too hot. The thought of leaving this cocoon ; his strong arms, the scent of his skin mixed with the remnants of last night ; feels wrong.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. One large hand slides down your side, gently squeezing your hip as he tries to coax you awake. “Come on, Y/N. You know Jay will text me ten times if we’re late. Again.” His lips brush your shoulder in soft, persuasive kisses, trailing toward your collarbone. When that doesn’t work, he shifts, rolling you onto your back with effortless strength so he can hover over you, messy dark hair falling into his eyes. You finally crack one eye open, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Sunghoon looks unfairly good even half-asleep ; flushed cheeks, sharp jaw, and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. However, as your gaze drifts lower, you notice it instantly : the huge bulge of his morning wood straining against the front of his boxers, thick and hard, tenting the fabric right above where his thigh presses between yours.
A slow heat blooms in your stomach. “Hoon…” you murmur, voice still husky, one hand instinctively sliding down his toned abdomen until your fingers graze the waistband of his boxers. “You sure we have to leave right now?”
He groans, forehead dropping to yours, there’s amusement in his eyes along with clear desire. “Don’t tempt me. You’re the one who said yes to brunch yesterday—before I fucked you senseless.” Still, he stays close to you. His hips roll forward just slightly, letting you feel the full, hard length of him against your thigh. “If you don’t get that pretty ass up, I’m carrying you to the shower myself.”
You smile sleepily, fingers teasing along his hardness through the thin material, feeling it twitch under your touch. The ache between your legs returns with interest, but the distant ping of a phone ; probably Jake wondering where you two are ; reminds you both of reality. Sunghoon sighs, kissing you deeply once, slow and lingering, before he forces himself to sit up. The sheet pools around his waist, doing nothing to hide how ready his body still is for you. “Shower. Now. Together. But no funny business or we really will be late.” He stands, offering you his hand with a raised eyebrow, his morning wood proudly on display. “I don’t want to explain to the guys why we look so…tired.”
You reach out quickly and grab his hand before he can fully pull away, your fingers wrapping around his wrist with gentle insistence. Sunghoon pauses, glancing back at you. You look up at him with those pleading eyes ; still heavy with sleep and leftover desire ; and whisper, “Just a kiss, please? Then we’ll get up.”
He stares at you for a beat, clearly fighting an internal battle. His jaw tightens, but the way you’re looking at him, all warm and tempting in the morning, makes his resolve crumble. “You’re being stubborn right now,” he mutters, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite the words. With a defeated sigh, he climbs back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settles over you again. His body presses you into the sheets, hot skin against hot skin. One of his hands cups your cheek as he leans down, capturing your lips in a unhurried kiss. It starts soft, almost sweet, but quickly turns hungry, with tongues sliding together, breaths mingling in the already stifling room. You melt beneath him, fingers threading through his messy hair.
Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon’s hand slides down your body with ease. He grips the back of your thigh, lifting it and hooking it around his waist, pulling you flush against him. At the same time, his other hand tugs your underwear down your legs in a single move, then quickly shoves his own boxers lower, freeing his throbbing cock. It’s muscle memory at this point, how many times had he done exactly this in the middle of the night?
The thick head of his cock brushes against your bare heat as he rocks his hips forward, teasing your entrance while he kisses you harder, swallowing your soft moan. Sweat beads along his spine from the summer heat, but neither of you cares. “One kiss,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice rough with need, “and now look what you’ve done…”
You smile into the next kiss, rolling your hips up to meet him, encouraging him closer as your thigh tightens around his waist. The brunch with Jake and Jay is quickly becoming a distant afterthought. You feel him pause right there, his body tense above yours, cock heavy and hot over your inner thigh. Sunghoon pulls back just enough to look down at you, that signature smirk curling his lips as his eyes gleam with mischief and lust. “What are we even going to tell the guys when we show up late?” he asks, voice low and teasing, one eyebrow raised. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, still hooked firmly around his waist.
You can’t help but chuckle, the sound breathy and light in the heated air between you. “Not my problem,” you reply with a playful shrug, your fingers tracing lazy patterns down his sweat-slicked back. He lets out a quiet laugh that turns into a groan as he shifts his hips. He reaches down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, and slowly rubs the swollen head up and down your slick entrance. The pressure makes your breath hitch every time he nudges against your clit, coating himself in your arousal.
“Fuck…I don’t want to think about it right now,” he murmurs lowly against your lips, his voice rough and needy. He keeps rubbing, slow and sluggish, pressing just barely inside before pulling back again, drawing it out until you’re squirming beneath him. The summer heat makes everything feel more intense ; skin sticking, breaths short, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your shared breathing and the faint creak of the bed.
His forehead rests against yours, eyes half-opened as he watches your reaction to every stroke. “What’s with you being this wet already?" He teases softly. You whimper as he keeps teasing you mercilessly. He pushes the thick head of his cock inside you, stretching you open just enough to make your walls flutter around him, then pulls out with a wet pop. He does it again and again ; slow, shallow dips that leave you aching for more, your hips chasing him every time he withdraws.
“Fuck, Hoon…” you breathe, nails digging into his shoulders.
He finally gives in with a low groan. In one smooth thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, filling you completely. Your back arches off the bed as he starts thrusting ; deep, steady strokes that make the headboard tap softly against the wall. The heat in the room only intensifies everything : skin slapping skin, sweat making your bodies glide together, your thigh still hooked tightly around his waist.
Just as the rhythm starts building, his phone begins ringing loudly on the nightstand. Sunghoon curses under his breath but doesn’t stop right away, thrusting a few more times before he reluctantly slows. He pulls out of you with a slick sound, shifting down the bed in one move. As you were about to protest, his broad shoulders push your thighs apart and his mouth is on you. His tongue drags hot and flat through your folds, licking up your wetness before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently. You moan loudly, fingers threading through his hair as he eats you out with hungry, practiced strokes.
The phone keeps ringing. On what must be the final ring, he reaches over, grabs it, and answers without pulling his mouth off you. “Yeah?” he says, voice muffled and graveled. He flicks his tongue faster against your clit, two fingers sliding into you and curling perfectly as he speaks.
You hear Jake’s voice faintly through the speaker, firing off a ton of questions—where are you guys, why aren’t you there yet, did you oversleep again?
He lifts his head just enough to speak clearly, lips and chin shiny with your arousal. “I’m eating breakfast right now,” he replies casually, then dives back down, sucking on your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you steadily.
Jake laughs on the other end. “Dude, we’re literally about to have brunch. Why are you eating already?”
Sunghoon chuckles against your pussy, the vibration making you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “I was really hungry while getting ready,” he answers smoothly, voice low and slightly breathless. His tongue circles your clit faster as he adds, “Give us like…twenty minutes. We’ll be there.”
He hangs up without waiting for more protests, tossing the phone aside and focusing entirely on you again. His mouth works you harder, fingers curling deep as he looks up at you with hungry eyes.
“Better come quick, baby,” he murmurs against your soaked folds, smirking. “We’ve got brunch plans.”
You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.
៸៸៸ minors do not interact!
៸៸៸ simp gamer ! lee heeseung x afab reader
៸៸៸ wc: 30k
៸៸៸ tags: smut, sister’s boyfriend trope, exhibitionism and voyeurism, dom heeseung, he is also unemployed lol, gaming antics, discord streaming, sexting, sex bets, shameless behavior, food mentions, alcohol use, implied sickness due to said alcohol, jake, sunghoon, and jay as the gamer friends who have a bet going. also the guys who get to watch….kind of.
៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: cheating/infidelity, dubcon-ish at one instance, heeseung is mean and manipulative. instances where jake, jay, and sunghoon take advantage of a situation where reader is drunk (conversation based), the reader can be lifted, visibly marked, has hair that can have fingers ran through it, and blushes visibly.
៸៸៸ a/n: this fic was written for heeseung's gf @drunkhazed! i really loved the idea, as you can see, i kind of went crazy with it. i hope it lives up to your imagination but maybe not idk. you better love it anyway oomfie, bc i loved writing it for u. this fic was briefly edited but likely still has a million typos and grammar errors.
៸៸៸ nsfw tags below
៸៸៸ nsfw tags: 10” heeseung, dubcon-ish at one instance, masturbation, pillow humping, cum eating, degradation, hentai watching, sexting, sex on camera, blow job, voyeurism, exhibitionism, deep penetration, cream pie, breeding, blood and spit, one mention of piss but no actual piss (form of degradation), fingers down your throat.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Walking into an empty room has never felt so freeing, especially in knowing this is your space. Safe from your parents, bare and ready to be adorned with all of the things you hold dear to you. What’s even better? It’s bigger than your room back home, and you even have a little attached bathroom of your own.
Life is great. You think studying here will ease your mind and allow you to graduate top of your class by the time it’s all over and done with. If you could kiss your sister, you would, really.
You remember being kids and the two of you promising that when you grow up, you’d live together and never grow apart. After actually growing up though, she finished her degree and went off on her own, leaving you by yourself with no one to get you through the hardships of becoming a college student yourself.
With her working full time for several years and you struggling your own way to the top, she really did follow through with that young childhood promise.
“Why don’t you come live with me through college? I’m sure it would be easier than living with all those rules.”
You didn’t even think twice and had your bags packed a single day after the invitation. You stayed up all night getting it done, emptying your childhood room filled with both good and bad memories. Alas, you did have to wait until the spring semester was over though. Thankfully, you were only sleeping in a packed up room for about a week.
You find yourself here now, with your sister lovingly making lunch in the kitchen while her boyfriend, who you have only met briefly at holiday gatherings, stays in the office-turned-gaming room hooting and howling over some game he’s playing.
“Don’t mind him.” She half-smiles when he doesn’t immediately head for the kitchen, making her own plate and moving to the table with a sense of annoyance. “He’ll be out in a bit, it’s a pretty normal occurrence.”
“You don’t think it’s rude?” You furrow your brows now, automatically assuming that your sister deserves a man willing to work just as much as she does. Still, you don’t entirely mind that you weren’t forced into an official meeting of the man of the house first thing when you walked in.
“Nah, not really. Been dating him for years, I knew what I signed up for when I moved him in.” She smiles while shaking her head, seemingly accepting all of his positives and negatives.
“Does he not have a job?” You pry, picking at your plate and trying to memorize his actual name because for a little while, you really started to wonder if his name was just a variation of “honey” and “babe”. Thankfully not.
“He’s looking for one.” She says, looking at you and trying to read your judgment. “Before you say anything, he has money. Or–well, his parent’s have money. They pay his half of the rent right now.”
You shrug, noting that she really does seem happy and you’d be the best person to judge her level of fulfillment outside of herself anyway. You trust that she picked the right man, even if he’s still screaming in the other room with an empty stomach.
“By the way…” She says with a wicked smile, one that you remember growing up with. The other end of that smile always ends with some sort of…antic. “We’re throwing you a welcome party this weekend. Inviting all of our friends too, so it’s easier for you to start being social on this side of town.”
You would groan, but growing up in your childhood home with your parents never came with parties. No birthdays at home, no sleepovers, nothing. Hell, they wouldn’t even allow you to attend other parties as a child, and going to college parties was out of the question.
The only party you ever attended was during the time you snuck out. They made damn sure you never snuck out again after that mishap as well.
“Oh, really?” You chew and speak at the same time, not minding your manners at all considering you can get away with it now. “Is there gonna be alcohol?”
“Oh, yes, yes.” She smiles again. “Gonna give you a proper party since, you know.”
You nod to her and you both laugh together at the found freedom you share, and then, well, the king of screaming like a toddler walks in. His hair looks like shit, an indent at the top of the messy locks indicating that he must have had his headset on for a long fucking time. Loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, eyes sleepy and red, probably burning from the sunlight coming through the windows, and some sort of smile on his face. He looks at his girlfriend with that tired smile, about to thank her for the meal, then his eyes trail to you.
“Oh fuck–” His hands raise to run his fingers through his hair, then both rest on the back of his neck as he lets out a big sigh. “Was that today?”
You give him the side eye of all side eyes at this moment. Reminding yourself how you and your sister spent all morning hauling your stuff in without his help. She also did say he would have put together your desk, dresser, shelf, and bed frame by the time you got here. Well, he didn’t.
“Yep.” She pops the p on the end of her word indicating passive aggressive annoyance.
“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, placing his empty plate right back into the cupboard and making his way to your room. “I’ll do it now. I’m sorry babe.”
Your sister nods triumphantly, watching your look of surprise in reaction to the way he instantly appears to fix his mistake without more than a single word from her.
“He knows when he fucks up. He was supposed to do it yesterday but as you can see, he hasn’t left his PC since like, nine o’ clock last night.” She shrugs.
You laugh, furrowing your brow at her.
“I really didn’t expect him to be so lazy, sis, I always figured you’d be dating a doctor or something.”
She brushes off her shoulders with a proud look, leaning towards you with a smile.
“He was working a really good job but I could see how unhappy he was. I’m giving him a year or two to figure himself out. He’s been back and forth trying new things, hasn’t quite landed on anything he likes yet though.”
She is a fucking saint. Honestly, Heeseung might be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman willing to do such a thing for him.
“Woah,” You start, taking a sip of your water. “He’s trying to make it as a streamer right now, I take it?”
She shakes her head with an eye roll.
“Not really, he’s just always spent as much free time as possible playing but, I trust that he’ll figure something out sooner rather than later.”
And you pry for a while longer. Learning about all of the things your sister and Heeseung do together, learning about her friends and his friends, the rules of the house, and the not-rules of the house. For instance, you’re allowed to bring home hook-ups or dates if you give a fair warning so she doesn’t have to hear it. However, the food in the fridge is for the house occupants only, and people need to ask before opening the cupboards and filling their plates. Of course, unless there is a party.
Another rule, which was a bit too much information but you figure it’s fair since everyone here is an adult. She and Heeseung apparently have a pretty active sex life and apologized in advance for some of the things you may end up hearing. She also noted that there will be ear plugs if you need them, but that she suggests throwing on some headphones and ignoring it. Fair enough, it’s her house anyway.
And after a few hours pass, Heeseung makes his way out of your room with a smile on his face. You remember seeing him maybe two or three times during the holidays but he never mingled with you. He never mingled with anyone, actually. He tended to keep to himself, with his loose fitting outfits always sticking out in the awkward family photos that your sister would sneak him into. That’s all you can really recall about him.
It is kind of strange seeing him in his natural habitat of your sister’s house. Already, you’ve seen more personality in him than you ever did during the brief meetings. It’s kind of nice to see him proudly nodding his head to your bedroom as if to invite you in properly like he should have done hours ago when you arrived. He took it upon himself to rearrange the room for maximum space. Arguably, you’re impressed.
“I unpacked some of your things too.” He comments as he hugs your sister from behind in the doorway. “Needed to make sure the dresser drawers wouldn’t cave in.”
Your eyes trail to the pretty dresser, painted white with even prettier trim on it. It’s the first time you’ve ever had a matching bedroom set. You head over and take a peek in the drawers, noting that he didn’t just haphazardly throw your clothes in there.
Top drawer, all of your undergarments are fucking folded. Second drawer, socks, tights, and leggings, third drawer, soft pajama sets also folded. And the fourth drawer remains empty.
You turn to look at him, embarrassed by the fact that he took it upon himself to do that. You can’t see a single shred of embarrassment in his own face though, and it appears he really was just being nice.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I do the laundry here so I’ll be folding those more often than you’d think.” He smiles, and your sister lends a chuckle.
“He’s gotta do something while I’m making most of the money.” She shrugs, totally fine with the fact that her boyfriend just handled every piece of underwear you own save for the ones you’re wearing.
“Closet too, hung up what I could but I’m like, really hungry so I figured I could leave the rest to you.”
You nod in appreciation, in awe of your new room and the soft, plush carpet on your floor. Your old room was hard wood with dust filled corners, it felt cold. Here though? You feel welcomed, warm, and cozy.
Hundreds of ideas flood your mind about how you want to decorate the room and as you go to start unpacking your miscellaneous items, your sister nods and backs out of the room with her boyfriend still hugging her from behind.
There, you’re left to your own devices.
Another thought crosses your mind when you hear the door close as well. The fact that you haven’t had a door to close for your bedroom since you snuck out all those years ago. The sound felt like music to your ears as you found yourself falling back on the bare mattress with a deep and relieved sigh.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
With all of the unpacking, wall art compositions, and napping in between, the week flew by quicker than you anticipated.
Waking up today, at half past two in the afternoon felt so good. Your duvet felt crispy, your room was completed and finally your own, and it felt safe. You could smell the breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and your sister’s voice paired with Heeseung ringing fondly at each other.
Little bit strange that you didn’t wake up to silence in the house, considering Heeseung is usually just now heading to sleep with that fucked up sleep schedule and your sister is normally lounging in the living room with a snack, iced coffee, and watching her favorite reality shows. Save for when she’s at work all day, of course.
Still, you slowly pull yourself out of bed feeling happy and refreshed, stepping into your attached bathroom to do your morning routine before exiting the room, and then heading into the kitchen with a small “good morning.”
“It’s nearly three in the afternoon.” Your sister smiles at you. “But good morning to you too sis.”
Heeseung, seemingly dressed for the day with a band tee and a beanie on, lends you a glance and a wave as he swings back and forth in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter in a bowl for your sister and unaware of the speckle of said batter stuck in a strand of his hair.
You lean over your sister’s shoulder after waving back to him, noting how she’s making little bite-sized pieces of pancake. Ah, this is the life, really.
“Well? Don’t just stand there? Pour some juice or something. We need a big meal before tonight.” Your sister laughs at your sleepy content hum from behind her, noting how you act much like she did when she first got out of the childhood home.
You take a step back, eyeing the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together as to why Heeseung is awake and dressed and why she’s making a big meal to begin with. Both your sister and Heeseung note the confusion on your face.
“Ah, she forgot.” He rumbles with a smirk, not keeping his eyes on you for too long as his focus falls back to mixing.
“Did you really forget?” Your sister rolls her eyes with a spatula in hand, turning to you and putting her other hand on her hip. “Everyone seems excited to meet you, they’ll probably start pouring in around six or seven tonight.”
“Oh, right! The party!” You exclaim, shocked that you really did forget about it. With your sister’s promise of alcohol, you assume that explains the large breakfast, and also probably why Heeseung doesn’t look like a total slob.
“Yeah, the party.” Heeseung snickers, his back turned away from you but overall acting as if you’ve already lived here for months. Throwing the same sarcasm at you that your sister does.
“Now go pour some juice, we have to go to the store after this and pick out drinks.” Your sister finally says, turning back to flip the pancakes in the pan. “You have drank since I moved out, right? You never wanted to try anything with me back then.”
You reluctantly nod your head, and your sister gasps fondly.
“Someone got into the liquor cabinet?”
You nod with a laugh, knowing that you learned how to do it from her despite always being too chicken as a teenager to do it with her. The curiosity of being drunk didn’t outweigh the fear of being caught at all for you, at the time anyway.
“Sunghoon is usually the one babysitting us, so no need to worry about pacing yourself.” Heeseung comments along with his sneaky side eye at you.
You don’t notice him do it at all, and even if you did you’d just assume it’s a passing glance. After all, you did open the fridge a little too hard.
“Sunghoon?” You ask.
“One of my friends,” He raises his hand to his hair to try and shake out the now, obvious, speckle of batter that’s starting to dry in the strands. “By the way, when you go to bed tonight– make sure you lock your door.” He continues, turning around now and leaning against the counter just to watch you lift on your toes for some of the cups in the cabinet.
His eyes watch the way you lift, your calf muscles flexing, your back arching slightly as you try to reach…And, well, he’s acting much like any man would, if he’s being honest, but ultimately he keeps his eyes to himself when your sister is turned or looking at him.
“Noted.” You nod without paying much attention, pouring the drinks and now moving the filled glasses to the table.
You make brief eye contact with him, noting how he’s already looking at you while your sister is simply listening, facing the other way and mostly just focused on not burning the pancakes.
“I’m serious. Lock your door.” He repeats, scanning your body and judging just how dangerous it is for you to be living here.
Mostly because he’s always found you quite cute, and he’s very aware that his friends probably will too. Hell, he’s already crossed a line with you since day one of you living here, he’s shocked you haven’t yet picked up on it, and knows very well that his friends will make moves instantly if you give them a chance. And with all things considered, you seem a bit too unaware of how attractive you are.
“Hm?” You raise a brow as you make your way back to the kitchen. “I was going to, but now you’re making it sound important.”
“Well,” Your sister chimes in, stepping back once and holding out her hand. Heeseung is quick adjust his eyes, handing the fresh bowl of batter to her with a kiss to her cheek as if he wasn’t just eye fucking you. “All of them are single, and you’re just about as good looking as I am.” She laughs half-heartedly.
She’s not trying to have an ego, but it’s best to warn you now at least. It’s not that she thinks she’s hot or anything, but she knows they think she is. And if that’s the case, they’re gonna be drooling over the younger, more single, version of herself.
Heeseung rolls his eyes now though, leaning back against the counter and scanning you again the second your sister has her back turned. This time more blatantly. Eyes landing on the curve of your hips to the length of your legs.
“Yeah.” He says, sucking in a breath with a half lidded gaze, letting his eyes trail down. “I’ll try to keep them at bay, though.”
For Heeseung, there is nothing wrong with looking. For you? You feel very seen by him and it’s kind of throwing you for a loop. Your appearance becomes the main point of conversation and it makes you want to kind of leave the kitchen.
“I doubt that’ll be an issue.” You try to laugh it off.
“No, seriously.” Your sister says, turning to look at you briefly to give you a serious expression. “Back when I first met Heeseung, all four of them were after me. I swear, they’re more than just competitive with their games.”
“I always win though.” Heeseung nods triumphantly, now keeping his eyes to himself and focusing more on his girlfriend.
“That, you do.” She boasts for him, leaning back after moving the pancakes to a plate and landing a kiss on his lips.
You study how they move together. So in sync, not stepping on each other’s toes, ultimately moving in harmony. Likes it natural to them. She really does look happy, and he just looks like a guy who doesn’t know where to land his gaze.
A normal guy, you think, who was given the same freedom your sister gives to you. It really is just who she is to take care of people, and the harsh judgment you originally had about Heeseung kind of fades a little bit as you watch them.
You try not to study him too much though because damn, your sister knows how to pick them in terms of like, scale of attractiveness. Heeseung is the type of guy the two of you would giggle over at the mall. The type you’d silently bicker over from behind a store rack of jackets, or perhaps even fantasize about during a long and boring tv show with your parents.
It’s not strange to find him attractive, because, well, he is. But you know your place here, and you’ve grown up to the point to know that you can appreciate a person’s looks and not need anything from them at the end of the day.
However, you kind of hope his friends are at the same level as him. For one, to avoid having a secret crush on Heeseung, because who wouldn’t? And secondly, they’re single, just like you.
Apparently they’re also a threat to the “innocence” both your sister and Heeseung seem to want to protect within you.
“I’ll lock my door.” You say finally, receiving a happy nod from both of them as they continue their cooking and you make your way to the table.
And while you do plan to lock your door, you also plan to take your time in getting dressed for the party. You kind of do want to be pounced at, or at least, feel the freedom of knowing you can look however you want without your parents forcing you into the ugliest outfit known to man. You know how to dress yourself, you’ve just never quite been allowed to do it. All those sneaky clothes your sister bought for you can finally come in handy.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
When your sister mentioned throwing you a welcome party, you expected a gathering of friends standing around awkwardly sipping wine coolers. What you didn’t expect was for there to be mood lighting, music, an array of nicely dressed people, and a large gaming set up in the living room where the big screen television was muted and a maximum of eight at a time could go head to head on super smash bros.
You found yourself enjoying it more and more as the night went on and you became more comfortable being greeted by strangers. Each drink you were handed mostly came from your sister, but by the time she stopped making her own drinks and began to drink whatever the hell-mix her friends were giving to her, Heeseung was the one handing you drinks.
“Come here–” Heeseung says over the blaring music, still floored by how good you look now versus how good you looked this morning. To him, the drinks he’s having paired with you running around looking like this? It’s even more dangerous than he thought as he continuously finds himself staring, and finds you seemingly still unaware of it.
“I’ll show you how to mix this one.”
Your sister was off somewhere in the house with her group of pretty friends, and you’ve really only briefly met everyone as they walked in the door. The drinks in your system make you want to actually mingle though. Everyone else is mingling, everyone else looks comfortable and happy to enjoy the party. It drives you to feel the same.
You nod to Heeseung with warmth in your cheeks, noting that he looks about as tipsy as you do when he stumbles his way back into the brightly lit kitchen with you. Your eyes burn at the light, as do his, and he groans at it before opening the fridge and pulling out the cranberry juice.
“Your sister said you’ve probably only chugged from a bottle, so I opted to give you the easiest drink to make.” He explains in a slight slur, setting the juice on the counter and ultimately knocking it with his elbow when he turns to grab the vodka bottle. “Cranberry juice and vodka.”
You feel endeared by his genuine smile and embarrassed laugh at the way he knocked over the juice, watching him in his own element and comfort zone. It makes you feel a little guilty that he’s been the one making your drinks, only because your sister must have asked him to by the time she got too drunk.
Heeseung seems to do just about everything she asks of him, and while you’re thankful, you feel a little bad that he’d probably rather be in the other room with his friends rather than trapped in this empty and terribly lit kitchen teaching you how to make a fucking mixed drink.
“I put about–” He starts, grabbing your cup and pouring it half full with vodka. “this much into yours.”
In your own state, it’s not like you’d know what’s too much or what’s too little to put into a drink, but so far everything he’s handed to you tasted good. So, you nod at him, attempting to focus in on the cup.
“And this much juice.” He continues, now pouring not enough juice into the vodka.
From this angle, watching him from behind, you pause for a moment in your tipsy brain. Distracted by the way his shoulders flex when he’s grabbing that big ass bottle of juice, but you’re quick to tear your eyes away. He’s just a nice looking guy, dressed up for the first time since you moved in, you can’t fucking help it. Surely your sister would understand if she ever caught you checking him out, right?
“Then just stir it.” He adds now, turning to face you and dipping two fingers deep into the liquid of your cup, swirling them, then handing you the drink.
He sucks the remaining mixture off of his fingers in a blatant show of his interest that you’re still far too aloof to pick up, watching you pretend he didn’t catch you staring. And with his fingers still in his mouth, he smirks around them, giving you a pleased expression when you take a sip from the cup.
You glance up just for a second when you taste the same exact drink he’s been making you for the past forty five minutes and nod, trying not to focus on the way his tongue darts between his fingers twice before he pulls them out of his mouth.
“Good?” He asks for confirmation, and when you smile and nod again, his eyes stare harder.
Surely it’s just because you’re drunk, but you swear he’s giving you bedroom eyes, and paired with what he just did with his tongue….well. He looks at you similar to how he did this morning. And when you moved in. And back during that one Holiday party he attended at your childhood home.
Definitely the alcohol. Like, he’s dating your sister. She’s the prettier one, the more successful one, the one with more personality. You’re just you. No way in hell is he really looking at you the same way he looks at her. It’s just your boosted confidence of finally being able to wear such a skimpy outfit. It’s just the liquid courage, that’s all.
“You know–” He starts this time, leaning against the counter like he did this morning while helping your sister cook, trying to appear casual, cool, and perhaps attractive in this stance. “When I was beating Jay’s ass on smash bros earlier, he mentioned you.”
You continue to sip your drink, feeling a buzzing in your chest and ears as you listen to him. Far more able now to have any conversation he could throw at you compared to any other day. Even with the thought in your head that he might be checking you out.
“Oh? Which one is Jay again?” You ask, leaning slightly to peek around the wall at the crowd of bodies just a room over. Interest peaking solely because the majority of people in this house right now are like, next level attractive. Maybe this Jay guy can take your thoughts off of your sister’s fucking boyfriend.
“The one with the sunglasses on his head, wearing all black.” He starts, leaning close next to you and pointing just in front of your line of sight. “He’s a fucking loser, though.”
You look at the guy, trying to remember the short greeting he gave to you. A nod of his head when he pushed those same sunglasses up and into his hair. He threw a very quick glance at you, to your face, chest, legs, then back to your face where he nodded again before making his way into the kitchen to make himself a drink. You think, maybe, that Jay guy judged you positively upon meeting you.
“He didn’t even tell me his name, no wonder I didn’t know which one he was.” You lend a drunken laugh as you check him out, sipping your drink again while listening to Heeseung laugh next to you.
His laugh sounds closer, which makes sense considering he’s now leaning his weight on you with his elbow on your shoulder, resting his head there.
“I thought he was that one–” You say, now pointing your own finger to the other guy you met briefly, the one with the longer hair, dyed blonde with hella untouched roots..
He had a nice smile when he greeted you, leaning in for a warm hug with a small “great to finally meet you.” His clothes drastically differed from Jay’s though. Far more casual and normal, loose jeans and a large hoodie just like what Heeseung seems to wear so often, except the colors were a bit brighter.
“Nah, that’s Jake.” Heeseung snorts, breathing in your scent as he leans into you as closely as he can, letting the stands of his hair poking out from his beanie tickle your neck. “Careful with that one, he’s a pervert.”
You’re quick to admit interest in this one too, swatting Heeseung’s hair from your neck without thinking much about it. Which, arguably, doesn’t quite sit well with him.
Not only are you almost entirely ignoring him now, but it’s his fault for pointing out his friends to you again despite his attempts at making them appear unappealing to you. It seems that his girlfriend’s little sister is a bit too eager to look at guys, yet not eager enough to look at him.
“Oh yeah?” You look for a little too long at Jake, in Heeseung’s opinion, as he draws his finger over to the very sober Sunghoon.
“You remember meeting him though, he made sure of it.” Heeseung rolls his eyes from beside you, leaning hard. “Also a pervert, just a little less obvious. I’d steer clear.”
“Is Jay the only one that isn’t a pervert?” You ask off handedly in a shy chuckle, bobbing your head now to the music bumping against the walls.
“God, did I not just tell you he mentioned you?” Heeseung shifts his weight to his other leg, skewing his head and looking straight down your shirt. “He asked if you were like your sister, the freak.”
He leans away from you at that point, noting that your drink is already near empty again and needing to refill it so that way he can push his own opinions into that empty little brain of yours.
“What do you mean, like my sister?” You ask, watching him take the cup from you and place it right there in front of the same ingredients he just used to make the drink before.
“Well,” He tilts his head back slightly when he turns to prepare the drink, eyes looking at you in a dark and somewhat scary way, still with a charming smile though. “Your big sis kind of got a little dirty on our first date. Guess Jay hopes you’re the same.”
Heeseung hopes you are too, but not for them.
And, for you? It’s not like you’ve ever been given a chance to do such a thing. However, upon meeting and then re-meeting his friends from afar, all of them really are quite attractive. Maybe you could follow in your sister’s footsteps just to say that yes, you fuck on the first date too.
“I guess I am a bit like her.” You say offhandedly, looking away from Heeseung and tipping your head back around the corner to check the three men out again.
And when Heeseung turns to give you another full drink, he snaps his fingers.
“Get back in here.” He says, and when you turn to face him again, his eyes land right back on your chest.
“I’d advise against it.” He slurs at seeing your curious gaze land on one specific friend, stirring your drink with his fingers much like he did before. “Jay is a slut.”
“All of them are, actually.”
Unfortunately, Heeseung’s warnings go through one ear and out the other. He can see it, especially with the way you place that drink up to your lips and make your way into the living room, leaving him behind without so much as a “thank you”.
And when you sit, directly between Jay and Jake, both of them turn their heads from the large TV screen, which allows Sunghoon to land some pretty major blows on them until he, himself, turns his head to witness two drunk idiots and a pretty girl between them.
“Heeseung said you asked about me.” You state boldly, leaning into the wrong person to say it.
“Well, he’s a liar.” Jake bellows out, studying how drunk you are and glancing up at Jay with a snide grin. Raising his brows and gripping his controller.
“That would be me who asked.” Jay pipes in, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice directly address you, but man, alcohol is fun. It makes you feel even more bold when you turn to look at him with a face that you assume shows interest.
“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” You ask, ignoring that you fumbled the greeting.
“You weren’t drunk enough,” Jay laughs, ignoring the screen as it gives Sunghoon his win. “I see now though,” He looks you up and down, slouching back against the couch and stretching his arm wide around the back of it, and you.” You’re definitely drunk.”
You nod happily, eyes turning to Jake, who is still just checking you out.
“Sure am.” You laugh, hopping up in one motion and turning to face them. “Heeseung also told me that you’re all fucking perverts, so.”
Jay and Jake both lend a “what the fuck, bro?” face at Heeseung, who was slouched against the wall, yet again, watching how you interact with his friends. He simply shrugs at them with a malicious smile into his drink. After all, he’s the one on top of the world right now. Not only does he have a hot as fuck girlfriend who lets him live and do as he pleases, but now he’s got a younger version of her running around, acting like she knows how to whore herself out.
He can tell you’re just like her in that regard. Ready, willing, wanting to experience everything all at once if the world throws it at you. From the way you sat between his friends to the way you snitched on him with a pretty smile on your face. Oh man, the guys probably love you already.
“So, what?” Jay rolls his eyes as Jake watches you stand on wobbling legs. “You don’t like to get laid?”
You bellow out a laugh that nearly throws you off balance, but Jake is very quick to lunge forward and grab your arm to steady you, forcing you to spill your drink all over yourself and him.
“Sure I do,” You ignore the blatant show of your mindstate and instead, remember how you’ve actually had plenty of sex during whatever time you could fit, in whatever place was hidden enough that didn’t involve your own home. “Why, you trying to get some?”
Jay smirks at you as Jake holds your half-spilled drink, listening to you flirt and smiling much the same way.
“Maybe.” Jay shrugs, side eyeing both of his friends. “You gonna give it up?” He adds, now blatantly checking you out from head to toe, liking very much what he’s seeing.
“Nope.” Heeseung suddenly cuts in, staring his three friends in the face as he grabs your drink from Jake and hands it back to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pretending to be the knight in shining armor your sister wants him to be.
You look back at the three men as Heeseung leads you away, then you note that Sunghoon shrugs at you.
“What the hell?” You ask, slightly annoyed with Heeseung and the lights of the kitchen blinding you once again. “I was busy.”
“Busy doing what? Teasing my friends?” Heeseung shakes his head as he turns away from you, placing your cup down and opening the bottles back up. “You’re playing a dangerous game, babe, I’d stop if I were you.”
“And? Maybe I like it.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how the alcohol radiates behind your eyes and lends two Heeseungs to pretend you’re not attracted to. At least with his friends, you can be more open about it.
Heeseung stops making your drink and turns to look at you and the way your eyes struggle to adjust. He’s entirely floored by that statement. The fact that you’ve kept to yourself for the most part since you’ve moved in, and now you’re all cute and drunk in front of him revealing just how much of a whore you might be if you were given the chance? Damn.
“Your sister would kill you.” He says, turning back to your drink and knowing that your sister probably wouldn’t actually give a shit if you fuck his friends. He does though.
“I mean, I guess I won’t stop you.” He lies, now turning back to make your drink the exact same way and giving it to you despite knowing he shouldn’t be giving you more.
“Can honestly say you’re a bit too pretty for them, though.” He adds in a snide compliment, wanting so badly to flirt but doing his best to appear like it’s totally normal for him to say these things.
And as he notes your stare at him, processing the words, he takes this moment to grab a towel from the sink to dab away at the drink that you previously spilled all over yourself.
You look at him, watching him dab the towel against your arm. He seems focused on doing it, pretty face and clear skin shining in these morgue lights in the kitchen compared to everywhere else in the house. And then, you note how when he looks up, his eyes stop momentarily at the amount of cleavage you’re revealing for this occasion. Hah, he probably thinks his messy strands of hair hid his eyes from you, but you saw it.
“Oh, I get it.” You take in a deep inhale, reaching to pull his beanie over his eyes and letting out a bold laugh because really, you’re pretty drunk by this point. “You’re a pervert too.”
Heeseung shrugs, lifting the beanie back up and standing much taller in front of you. He skews his head down, looking right past your face and down your shirt this time. Proud of seeing the curve of them and the space between that could probably stimulate any cock you squeeze there.
“Maybe, yeah.” He smirks, taking a slight step closer and letting both arms trap you against the counter, hovering above you with an intimidating stance. “Maybe even more than they are.” He adds, already preparing himself to press his hips up and against you, uncaring of how it would look if he were to be found like this with you.
Unfortunately, he’s forced to care because there’s a happy pair of footsteps making their way to the kitchen, and he really should not have been about to do that in the first place. He stumbles back at the sound, smiling at you with a quick, tipsy wink.
It leaves you a little dizzy as you stare at him with a weird kind of aroused feeling in your gut. Surely that’s the alcohol too, it has to be. You’re very quick to shrug off the small intimate moment as you hear your sister’s loud and booming voice calling out his name.
You watch as she envelopes him in a fraction of a second, lifting on her unbalanced feet to immediately start making out with him.
You’re not sure why you stand there and watch for a second, a little zoned out before Heeseung opens his eyes briefly and looks at you throughout the bruising kiss he’s currently an active participant of.
There’s that same look again, only this time he’s doing it while licking into your sister’s mouth. You’re so fucking confused right now. All the signals have to be your imagination, right?
You snap out of the daze then, whispering a small “ill just go somewhere else.” before leaving the kitchen and finding yourself at the table just outside of it.
You try to keep your eyes to yourself at this point regarding Heeseung, feeling all of the buzz and heat in your gut at the idea of being allowed to be openly sexually attracted to just about any man you lay eyes on. He’s nothing special, just a handsome guy. His friends are just as attractive, right?
And as you trail your eyes around the room trying to find someone to go mingle with, you are instead surrounded by your sister’s friends. Still, when you glance to the living room, every single time, either Jake, Jay, or that other guy is watching you with eyes that you’ve read before from other men.
Arguably, the same eyes Heeseung gave you just a few minutes before. At least with them, you know you’re not reading those bedroom eyes wrong.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Give me a week.” Jake says, elbowing Jay in the side and taking a hefty sip of his terribly mixed drink as his eyes drift to the new girl surrounded by other hot girls. “I'll be in her bed before the week is up..”
Jay rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching out his own tipsy limbs as he walks to Sunghoon and sits on that couch instead.
“Three days for me then.” He says, giving Jake a too-confident face. “I could go over there right the fuck now and have her on her knees, probably.” He says as he looks at you, fitting in so well with the group of girls. Possibly being the hottest one too. “Maybe.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at his slurring best friends, clearly drunker than they realize.
“You both take the wrong approach.” He says, stiffening his shoulders before slouching entirely against the couch, considering ditching the baby-sitting job and having a drink as well. “You think they’d just let you fuck her? I’ll get her to go on a date with me first. Get her legs open in my car after.”
“Quite frankly, Sunghoon, I don’t really give a shit if they’d let me. I’m going to get some of that.” Jay responds.
All three of them are staring at you, thankfully, you don’t seem to notice as you fall into a conversation with that same group of girls, plus your sister now. And just as Jake was about to add more to the conversation, Heeseung makes his way in.
“Don’t–” Heeseung slurs as he flops beside Jake, letting his heavy limbs hurt his friend. “–even think about it, Jakey boy.” He says, knowing for a fact what all three of his whore friends are thinking. They’ve been staring and glancing at you all night.
Jake avoids eye contact, because he’s definitely thinking about it.
“No worries.” Jay shrugs. “We’re just looking, that’s all.”
Somehow, someway, all three of Heeseung’s friends pick up on what Jay is putting down. Ah, a deal of leaving him out, they suppose.
After all, Heeseung already managed to bag your sister. They know he’d keep her little sister off limits to them too. Out of respect or some shit, probably. Bro code, all of that.
“Keep it that way.” He hums, shoving Jake and laughing. “She’s too hot for you guys anyway, just like her sister.”
There’s a shared look between the three as Sunghoon lunges for Jay’s drink and takes a sip of it.
“Heeseung, we’re crashing here tonight.” He bellows out through tangy lips.
And, well, Heeseung didn’t argue because he knows he’s not in a state to really give a shit at this point. The only thing he needs to be focused on right now is willing his cock to soften up a bit before he does something drastic about it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung thinks hard as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s seeing two of himself which is kind of funny in one aspect, but also terrifying because he didn’t intend to drink this much.
Why is he so upset to see his friends go for you? You’ve been here a week and he’s already feeling so jealous? Really? Then again, he knew from the moment your sister told him you were moving you that it was going to be either very interesting or incredibly difficult.
Mostly because he’s stolen glances at you for years. Wondering when you’d ever come to visit, always looking so pretty and happy during those brief holiday gatherings. Oh yes, he’s had his eye on you for a fucking while. And now? You’re living here? And coming onto his friends right after he warned you not to?
For the past hour as he sipped and watched you roam the house, back and forth between the girls, your sister, and his boys, he couldn’t help but scoff at you for it. You haven’t spoken to him since the kitchen incident. A little bit of a blatant moment on his part, he admits, he even surprised himself with that.
Still, this protective feeling doesn’t come from being your future brother in law. Absolutely not. It stems entirely from the twitch in his pants he’s gotten nearly every single moment he’s gotten to take a long look at you.
It was manageable before, where he’d see you maybe once or twice a year. But now? It’s every single day, and it pisses him off that you’re not mingling with him during this party.
He stares at himself, bobbing his head to the music in the mirror before leaning forward against the counter and inching closer and closer to his own face.Finally, he can focus in and see only one of himself looking back in the mirror.
All he sees is a man who has managed to bag himself the perfect woman. One willing to coddle him and take care of him like a mother would, one willing to let him float through life unemployed for the time being, one that doesn’t entirely let him fuck the way he wants to solely because she’s far too confident in herself to let him pull such a thing with her.
Heeseung tilts his head at himself as he examines his face in the mirror, knocking his beanie off and running his fingers through his hair. Leaning back and once again to relish in his own doubled vision.
What he really sees looking back at him in that mirror is a man who bagged himself an almost perfect woman who appears to have a truly perfect sister. It’s the fact that suddenly, he can admit that he is bored in the bedroom, and a man who is far too eager to ignore that if he got the chance, he would be just like his friends regarding you.
He would be getting your number and asking to see what those tits look like under that skimpy shirt you’re wearing tonight. You’d probably show them too, considering the fact that you lived your entire life up until this point barred by church sermons and non-existent doors that offer no privacy to so much as finger yourself. You’re probably dying to experience all of the things you were already supposed to be well acquainted with at your age.
And as he thinks about it, head spinning in thoughts of what he’s already done just moments after you officially moved in, he slips his hand down. Groping himself through his jeans and staring down at the bulge that sits just above the counter.
He hangs his head, smirking and shivering at the small touch he lends to his own length. It’s the fact that he just got hard over the confirmation of being sexually unsatisfied in his own bedroom. The shamed truth that he stood here thinking a little too hard about what kind of nudes you’d send if he ever chose to ask for them, it’s not something he’s ashamed of either.
In fact, the thought of sneaking out of the bed while your sister sleeps just to slip into your room and cover your pretty little mouth in his cum? That’s more arousing than knowing he could just leave the bathroom right now and fuck your sister.
And he stands there for a few minutes testing that theory, running his fingers along the swollen inseam of his pants in a careful way, like his girlfriend does. He twitches once at the feeling, glancing up at himself in the mirror again, trying hard to imagine her in this bathroom with him.
Another twitch, weaker this time. He laughs at himself quietly in defeat before breathing in a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the muffled music just outside of the door to fade off through his hot ears and aroused mind.
He closes his eyes briefly when he grabs himself now. Rougher, harsher, messier. Trying to mimic the hand of a woman who probably hasn’t done this too much, trying to mimic what he thinks you’d do. His hips shift forward almost immediately and without intention, chasing the feeling of inexperience. Chasing the thought of someone that isn’t his girlfriend. He chuckles more now, confirming his theory.
Chasing it with his eyes closed up until he does open his eyes and sees himself looking so out of it for you. Knowing that you’re just ten feet away if he were to walk out of this bathroom right now, so drunk and cute, you probably wouldn’t think twice about giving it to him. Knowing that if he really wanted to, he could take you the way he’s always wanted your sister and you'd probably love every second of it.
He’d fuck you better. You’d be tighter, wetter, and louder for him than she ever has been.
And just as he goes to slide his hand down the front of his pants, intending to fuck his own fist to the thought of you tonight rather than turning that lock behind his own door to get between your sister’s legs, there’s a loud knock on the door. He jumps at the sound, adjusting his pants right back to where they belong before whipping around a bit too quickly and sending a bottle of perfume clattering to the floor in a loud POP sound.
“Shit-” He groans, smelling the intense aroma of what your sister wears, forcing his mind back to the reality of not being allowed to fuck you.
He tiptoes around the broken glass, nostrils burning at the strong scent before swinging the door open with an annoyed roll of his eyes.
“Heeeeeeeeseungie!” Your sister sings, fumbling over and leaning on him instantly with her arms circling his shoulders. She’s so gone that she doesn’t even notice the scent of her favorite perfume that just got destroyed.
“Hey honey,” Heeseung says calmly, appearing far more sober despite being a bit buckled at the knees. “Need help?”
She nods against his chest, unaware of his softening cock that wasn’t at all raging for her just moments before.
“There’s glass all over the floor right now, let’s go use your sister’s bathroom.”
The length in his pants shrank nearly instantly upon feeling her cling to him like this, with that cute, high pitched, voice she tends to use when she’s needy. He tries not to think about that though. Coming to terms with the fact that what used to get him off is currently turning him off? That’s too much of a dangerous thought right now.
“Mhm,” Your sister hums as he guides her to your closed bedroom door. “Wait!” Your sister panics, coming to her drunk senses for just long enough to blurt “She came in here with Sunghoon earlier, we should knock.”
Heeseung stiffens for a moment, pausing his step just outside your bedroom door. The weight of his own girlfriend against him should be something he loves right now, but he just finds himself wishing she’d get the fuck off of him.
The fact he’s somehow more pissed about you behind this door, probably giving it to Sunghoon, than he is in love with his girlfriend right now? Telling. He knocks once before immediately turning your door knob. Locked.
“Hey, your sister needs to use the bathroom.” Heeseung shouts right up against the crack of the door, wiggling the knob. “Open up!”
“Use the other bathroom!” You shout back in a muffled and far away sounding voice.
Heeseung stands there, pretending he doesn’t notice the sound of shuffling on the other side when the song booming through the speakers changes for a split second.
“Can’t use the other bathroom! There’s glass on the floor!”
Silence from the other side of the door for a brief moment then, click! You crack it open, cheeks flushed and eyes struggling to focus on him. Heeseung immediately pushes the door open to reveal not only Sunghoon, but Jake and Jay all three lounging around your room.
Still fully clothed, at least, but he can tell at least one of them appears to be struggling to hide his hard on. (Jake.)
Heeseung narrows his eyes at all three of the men. Jake sitting stiffly on the floor at the end of your bed, hands over his lap. Jay, lounging on your bed, as if he’s been on it a thousand times with a half-boner on full display. And then Sunghoon, clearly feeling some type of buzz as he’s the only one still drinking, leaning right up against the dresser that Heeseung built himself.
“Ooh,” Your sister hums, wiggling her finger at you.”Scandalous.”
You lend her a shy smile as you take a step back, willing them sooner rather than later to leave solely because you were busy in here.
Not like, fucking or anything. Just having a nice, innocent, conversation with three hot guys. That’s all. Plus, you’d never have been able to handle sitting alone in a room with these three if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system anyway. Especially with the way you initially only invited Sunghoon into your room to show him how you had the same style of socks he was wearing. Jake immediately followed both of you, followed by Jay, who was the one who closed the door and locked it.
And you pay no mind to Heeseung and your sister walking to your bathroom on unbalanced steps, you find yourself flopping back on the bed right beside Jay instead.
None of them have done anything at all to make you feel awkward or like this situation is dangerous either. In fact, the only thing you guys have talked about are the mutual interests that you share.
Poor you, so aloof when drunk. Unable to comprehend the fact that every single one of the guys in your room right now have made attempts to steer the conversation in their own way to things not so innocent.
You do try to ignore what happened in the kitchen with Heeseung though, avoiding eye contact with him as he makes his way back out of your room after helping with your sister. You think he’s glaring, maybe, but oh well.
“Anyway, back at home my dad would have never let me wear band shirts.”
“That’s tough.” Jay comments, side eyeing your chest in that top and low-key wondering how nice your tits would look braless, under one of his band shirts. “Bet he didn’t know he raised not one, but two sneaky daughters.”
You smile triumphantly, ignoring the shadow of your sister that they force you into.
“They made it really hard to break rules. Now though? I get to wear stuff like this and hang out with guys like you.”
“Yeah,” Jake trails off, turning his body to peek at you from the end of the bed. “Probably not the smartest move on your part.”
You bring your attention to him, seeing a blur of charming eyes and messy hair.
“What do you mean?”
“What he means is that, it’s probably not ideal to get shit faced then lock yourself in a room with three horny guys.” Sunghoon asserts, pushing off of the dresser and now setting himself on the foot of your bed. “You can’t tell?”
You, for some reason, are astonished at his words. Sunghoon, compared to the other two, seemed more quiet and reserved if you’re being honest. Then again, you’ve only known these guys for a few hours by this point. What you do know about Sunghoon, is that he’s horrifyingly attractive in the way he carries himself, which you can’t really say the same for Jake or Jay.
With his perfected dark hair and tall stance. he looms around with each expression on his face leaving little to the imagination in the way his eyebrows accentuate whatever thought flows behind his eyes. Somehow, he’s still the hardest to read, as you watch him assert his own form of dominance on your bed.
You’re blissfully unaware of how tame Sunghoon was actually being at this moment though. All three of them, they’re competing to see who fucks you first, and whoever wins? Ah, not only do they get a paid night at the bar out of it, but both losers have to fork over another sum of money equal to that of two seasons worth of battle passes to whatever game the winner may choose to play.
“I think this is a good time to hand you my phone, give me your number.” Jay cuts in quite quickly, ignoring the way Sunghoon invites himself into the space he created with you.
Jay doesn’t even let you process his words as he tosses his phone to the side and at you, watching it land on your stomach before sliding off to the other side of you.
“Ah, you’re cute.” He chuckles upon noting your terrible coordination skills of grabbing said phone.
“Well, I’m drunk, so.” You dead-pan, freezing when you feel him lean over you to grab the phone himself, staying there and hovering over you with it in his hand.
You let out a small gasp when you meet his eyes, staring straight through you.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jay’s blatant show of interest, and Jake simply watches. Studies how you react to the forwardness.
“Go on.” Jay encourages you, holding the phone directly in front of you, where your eyes are still glued to his confident face, as if he’s not practically caging you in on your own bed like this. “Type it in.”
You do. Somehow managing to type your number perfectly on the screen placed in front of you, and he’s quick to turn the phone to himself, flicking his eyes back and forth between you and the screen as he presses the call button.
Your phone vibrates from the dresser and Jay gives a victorious and somewhat dark smile.
“One for me, zero for the idiots.” He laughs, lending you one more glance, a squeeze of his palm against your waist, and then he’s moving off of you and your bed as a whole. “Call me when you kick them out, I’ll sleep in here tonight.” He adds, leaving no room for argument before leaving the room entirely.
That leaves Sunghoon and Jake, sitting there trying to pretend it wasn’t expected of Jay to at least get your number first. He always starts strong, then again, he also always fumbles hard when things get gritty. In game and out of game.
“What a prick.” Sunghoon sighs, flopping back on the end of your bed and forcing you to shift your legs up and press them together to make room for his broad body.
He turns his face to look at you from down here, watching you spread your legs to look back at him. The motion is innocent at best, because you seem to trust that he’s not trying to be a pervert right now. Oh, but he is.
He looks at you from this angle hard, realizing how easy it could be to shift just a foot in the right direction to have his face right where you’d probably like it.
And you note the way he’s looking at you.
“Do you guys like…” You glance away from him, over to Jake who is now making his own way onto the bed where Jay was lying before. You shift for a moment, feeling like prey. “Do you guys always share a girlfriend?”
Jake snorts.
“Share?!” He laughs at your question more before settling back against your pillows and landing his hand on your thigh. Easy, simple, and obvious. “We don’t share anything.” He explains now, feeling the fabric of your bottoms and pushing your legs closed so that Sunghoon can’t lay down there and think up all sorts of fantasies.
“You’re gonna have to pick.” Sunghoon says in an annoyed tone, glaring at Jake for closing your legs.
He lifts up on his arms now, raising a brow.
“I’ll give you some advice though.” He says, noting how you listen to him more than you do Jake. “Jay has the stamina of a dead horse.”
Snorting only for a moment, you think hard about Jay. Noting his cool and collected demeanor. Uncaring, somewhat cold, but his face seemed warm and endearing when he looked at you from time to time. You could sense the confidence in him from the moment he looked at you when he walked into this house. Instant attraction, without even knowing his name, is what you felt. With that sleek hair style and pretty hands gripping a full bottle of tequila. He probably has more stamina than Sunghoon gives him credit for.
“And Jake.” Sunghoon laughs this time, pointing directly at the guy lying next to you. “Two strokes and he’s out of the game.”
You laugh again looking over to Jake, who stares at Sunghoon with a dark glare.
“What the fuck dude? That was one time!” He defends himself, babbling about how it was the first time he ever had sex, and how he can go way longer now.
“Me, on the other hand.” Sunghoon perks up as he runs his hands through his hair before smiling at you. “I just want to take you on a date.”
Ding ding ding! We have a winner.
“Really?” You ask, floored over possibly landing your first date in years that your parents wouldn’t be attending.
“Of course.” He nods politely, ignoring that Jake is even in the room now. “I’m not the kind of guy who is just trying to get between your legs.” He lies easily, glaring at Jake again for closing your legs earlier.
“So, what do you say?” Sunghoon encourages you to pick him at this moment, and the nod you give has him pulling his own phone out, asking you to tell him your number rather than forcing you to type it into his phone.
You smile as you give him the numbers, not at all seeing Jake try to sneakily type it into his phone as well.
“Good.” Sunghoon says, flopping back on your bed and now using his own hand to part your legs again. You look at him from above and feel elated by how petty and clean cut he is. “Don’t call Jay when I leave, then.”
You hum a confirmation, stretching out your arms and feeling confident as all hell at the way tonight has gone. Up until, well, Sunghoon makes his way out of the room and tries to drag Jake with him. Only because he knows Jake is awful at talking to girls but man, do they swoon if they’re into desperate guys. You seem to be into just about anyone, if Sunghoon is honest with himself.
“Come on, dickhead.” Sunghoon gripes at Jake, grabbing his hoodie and physically trying to drag him out of the room.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Jake says, pressing all of his body weight against your mattress and kicking Sunghoon away from him. “Play fair or I’ll tell her about last weekend.”
Sunghoon instantly avoids eye contact with him, knowing that if Jake were to spill the beans on how he forgot to leave the server during his uh…session, a date would be out of the question not only for now, but for good.
“You’re the fucking worst.” He grimaces before releasing Jake’s hoodie and stepping out of the room, only half wondering if he should truly let Jake shoot his shot as well.
Ultimately, Sunghoon finds himself stepping out of the door and directly into Jay.
“Well played.” Jay comments. “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that you’re full of shit, won’t I?”
Sunghoon smiles a wicked grin, eyes narrowing at Jay.
“You won’t even get the chance.” He says, looking past Jay and down the hallway at Heeseung, who is shooting a death-glare at them. “Oh, check it.” He changes the subject by shoving Jay in the side to look at their friend. “He’s mad.”
Jay turns to look at whatever it is Sunghoon is talking about and simply laughs.
“He can tell something is up. Maybe we should tell him?” Jay asks, crossing his arms in interest.
“Eventually.” Sunghoon laughs as he pushes past Jay and makes his way to the kitchen for another drink.
Jake, on the other hand, is fucking vibrating as he sits alone in this room with you, dodging the questions about what Sunghoon did last weekend to cause such a reaction with an entirely made up sob story.
“Oh my god?” You coo out, turning to face him entirely. “That’s so sad!”
Jake mumbles, nodding his head as if he pities himself with a pout on his face.
“Yeah, I guess that’s just how things go for me though.” He shrugs, blinking at you with the biggest and softest eyes he can manage.
“I can’t believe she did that!” You bellow out now, entirely invested in the backstory of the love life he lost just a few months prior. “With her own cousin, too?!”
Jake nods again with that same pout, looking as defeated as he can, trying to be as charming as he possibly can.
You lean forward to give him a some form of hug at this moment, drunken emotion overtaking you as you sit and watch this poor guy pour his little broken heart out.
“If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because my dad threatened him.”
“No, that’s awful.” He chuckles sadly, shaking his head at you. “We’re both just unlucky, huh?”
He nods his head, seemingly to get you to shadow his actions, and as expected, you do. You nod to confirm his words, still invested in the fact that such a nice looking guy got fucked over like that, only to be made fun of by his friends for it.
So invested that you don’t note the way he keeps his hand on your leg or moves it upwards inch by inch.
“Can we change the subject?” Jake pouts harder, looking at you with sparkling eyes..
“Yeah, of course–”
“You’re really, really, pretty.” He suddenly blurts, looking you in the eye and using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You totally believed his entire story, if the saddened look in your eye is anything to go by. “I think you should go on a date with me instead.”
You break eye contact, looking down again and only just now noticing his hand on your leg. Only just now noticing that hard-on he’s sporting in his pants.
“Jake.” You say, lifting your eyes back to him. “Are you–hard?” You lift your brows in pity again with the subject change, drunken brain telling you that he’s probably crawling in his skin over how hard he is, and how sad everything is for him.
“Oh, over this?” He asks, dropping his hand and blatantly groping himself. “A little. It always happens when someone as good looking as you gives me the time of day.”
Oh, how sweet. How cute. The fact that Jake gets hard simply over someone being nice to him?
“Well, don’t worry!” You try to perk him up, not at all realizing that he’s full of shit. “I know it’s not because you’re trying to get into my pants or anything. I won’t tell anyone.” You nod to him with a smile before– Uh oh.
“Well, actually–” Jake tries to start, already about to make his move when he notices the color on your face change and you’re fumbling to the bathroom.
And just like that, Jake has failed, as he stumbles out of your bed and to your locked bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” He asks with a sweet and caring voice.
Silence from the other end save for the sound of your sink running full blast probably to mask the sounds of your stomach trying to evacuate the copious amounts of alcohol that’s been fed to you.
So much for the pancakes being a fix-all solution. And with that, Jake leaves the room while pulling out his phone, texting the number he stole when you gave it to Sunghoon.
Jake: hey, don’t be embarrassed about getting sick. I’m gonna crash on the couch so if you need me i’ll be there.
After that, the party is pretty much over. Everyone save for the three perverts, Heeseung, and your sister remain.
This leaves your sister already passed out and tucked into her bed by none other than Heeseung himself, Jay already asleep on the couch, Sunghoon piled up on the floor between the dining room and the living room. Probably to create a barrier that would wake him if Jay really tried to get into your room.
And poor fucking Jake, forced to actually pity himself as he curls his body up on the love seat in the living room, pretending that it’s totally big enough for him to be comfortable here.
Heeseung looms around the house once everything goes silent, checking to be sure no one has passed out or died in a corner before coming back to the living room and staring at all three of his bitch-ass friends.
On one hand, he’s glad they’re in the living room and not in your room. On the other hand, he wants to smother all three of them. One by one.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is in his head for a solid three days after the party. So much that his focus is more on you than his games. Which is super fucked up when he thinks about it. That’s why, when your sister heads off to work, he’s plotting in his head every time. He needs you to like him somehow.
The thoughts loop in his mind. From images of him pinning you up and against that kitchen counter again, to the fantasy image of you dropping to your knees in front of him. If anything, it’s not that he needs to fuck you, he just needs you to want him to.
And this is why he finds himself orbiting you. Finding reasons to come into your room, or reasons to get you out of it.
“I’m gonna do some laundry, do you have anything I need to wash?” When you didn’t have anything more than what was already in your basket, he still washed your clothes. He also folded one of his own shirts into your pile just to see if you’d wear it.
“I made some lunch, come eat with me.” You already ate while he was in the office playing his games, which he should have guessed.
“Hey, can you help me wash the dishes?” You had nodded, but never left your room and he ultimately ended up washing and drying them all himself. Waiting, waiting, and fucking waiting.
All three times he tried today, you brushed him off with your eyes glued to your phone.
Something has got to give because it’s starting to get embarrassing how much he thinks about you. With the way he avoided sex last night with his own, very beautiful girlfriend, just to hide in the bathroom at four in the morning getting off with something he absolutely should not have in his possession.
He doesn’t know how fucking long it’s gonna take to get you to break for him but it’s going to happen one way or the other. You don’t have a choice in the matter at this point .
It looks like you won’t even consider him in that pretty little head of yours simply because he’s considered off limits. He’s gonna have to prove you wrong.
Still, he remembers the way you looked at him during your welcome party. So cute and sweet when you’re drunk, so willing to hang out with him. The interest was there. He knows it was.
And now, as he ticks away at the WASD keys on his keyboard, running his little pixel version of himself back and forth between headshots that he misses every time, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jay shouts through the headset. “He was right there!”
Heeseung knows his friends have every reason to rag on him right now. It’s the fifth lost ranked game of the day and he’s rotting inside at the thought of dropping back down to gold.
“Platinum my ass.” Sunghoon pipes in, slamming his mouse on his desk out of sheer annoyance at what happened during the last game. “You didn’t down a single person in the past three games.”
Heeseung sighs, ripping his headset off and closing out the game. He can feel it in his body. The frustration bubbling up to the point that he really only thinks about you and this shit needs to stop now before his precious rank drops so far down that even their bronze boy Jake could boast above him.
He ignores the annoyed shouts from his friends as he disconnects from discord, stands up, and practically storms out of the room and up to your door.
“I’m coming in!” Heeseung gripes.
This is your first time witnessing him in a bad mood, as he does exactly as he says and swings your door open for the fourth time today.
“You and me.” He says, pointing a finger at you “Right now.”
“Right now, what?” You ask in a nonchalant tone.
Which only pisses him off more because, fuck if he knows.
“Get off your phone. We’re hanging out.”
You furrow your brow at him, pointer finger locking the screen of your phone and hiding the string of texts you’d been sharing with one of his very own best friends. Your eyes scan him only for a moment, noting how rushed he appears to be while barging into your room like this.
Large hoodie covering the majority of his body, sweat on his brow probably from all of that screaming you heard in the office earlier, and that same very embarrassing dent on the top of his head from his headset.
As you look at him in all of his gamer boy glory you nod, only because out of all of his friends, you think you’d rather hang out with him because at least he’s not in your texts trying to land a date, or a hookup, or dropping dick pics by “accident”.
He’s just Heeseung, your sister’s loving and very hard to read boyfriend. Who you don’t happen to fully remember is capable of pinning you against the kitchen counter while trying to show you how much worse he is compared to his friends.
“Okay, what do you wanna do?”
He pauses, standing in your room and looking at you lounging on your bed. If he really told you what he’d like to do, it would probably scare you. He needs to think fast, not desperate.
“Uh,” He hums, glancing away from you and lifting his hand up to finally ruffle that embarrassing dent in his hair away. “Have you ever played video games?”
“Yeah. Not the ones you play though.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at sudden small talk.
God, he shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t think you could make yourself any more alluring to him after saying that. While his girlfriend has never once even considered picking up a controller, you have? Oh, shit. Man, that’s so hot.
“Oh yeah?” He perks up in genuine interest, taking a step forward and landing himself on your bed without invitation. “Like what?”
“Party games mostly, I guess. Mario Party, Super Smash Bros, Wii sports, Among us.”
He nods as you list the most mundane games in the industry.
“Did you pick up pretty quickly? Like, did you ever win?” He asks, unaware that this conversation feels like literal foreplay to him, pleased by the fact that there’s suddenly more to like about you than just those tits and face….and personality….and intense need to break rules…and–
“Yeah, I can be kind of competitive.”
“Mm.” Heeseung nods in approval, turned on by the very image of you staring into a screen with dead eyes, fingers smashing on buttons and intensely focused.
“Do you wanna watch me play something?”
“How is that hanging out?” You ask, scoffing at the idea. “Why would I want to watch you have fun?”
Heeseung looks at you. Yeah, that’s fair. He would probably end up ignoring you the whole time anyway, but still. Is it so bad that he asked simply to fulfill the fantasy of having a girl fawn over him and his successes?
“Okay, then what would you want to do?” He shoots back, knowing it’s fair but hating it nonetheless. Wondering if there’s a chance that someday you’ll pile up on his lap and watch him carry the whole team to victory. Boasting for him more than he does for himself.
“Horror movie. I’m sure she’s told you but our parents were very strict about what media we consumed. I have a whole list of horror movies I’m trying to work through, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to watch by myself.”
Fuck yeah. Maybe it’ll end in that cringe and cliche scenario he’s used time and time again when flirting with girls. Images of you jumping from a jumpscare and grabbing him on instinct. Fantasies of you cuddling up real close. So close that he can smell how much you want him. He could get hard right now just thinking of doing this very thing with you. Plus, he fucking loves horror movies.
“Get your pretty ass in the living room then. ” He nods, smiling at you in a way that hides every thought behind his empty, horny eyes.
And he just gets up and walks out like calling you pretty just now wasn’t at all out of place, he fucking winks at you. It really does throw you off that he just did that so nonchalantly, like he talks to everyone that way when you know for a fact that outside of this house, your sister has to fight him just to get him to wave hello to someone.
You wonder why it feels like maybe you shouldn’t be spending time alone with him. Arguably, you don’t want to admit that it makes you feel good either. Already with three separate, very attractive people, in your texts insisting that you pick them, that you choose them.
All of it is very desperate. Almost as desperate as you are to give in to every single one of them, but you can’t just let them know how sheltered you were and how free you feel the need to be now.
Of course Heeseung, your sister’s boyfriend, calling you pretty would make you feel confident. Like maybe you could be with someone just as attractive as him, or perhaps no longer live in the shadow of everything you wish you could be.
Her. Everything was always about her.
“Oh, your sister got top of her class! She’s gonna be moving out soon!” She really just left you there to suffer alone.
“Ah! Your sister just bought a house! I heard she and her boyfriend might marry soon!”
You scoffed that day when you entered college, no one congratulated you for the countless free rides or multiple acceptance letters. No, it was all about her despite the fact that she lived an hour and a half away and you were right there.
She was only better than and outshined you because she was older and got there first. It was never competitive with you until everyone in your life expected you to outshine, outdo, and outwit her.
Still, you jumped at the opportunity to live here solely to get away from your parents. Solely to try and live outside of everything you could be, only to become whatever the fuck you want to be. And yeah, you love her immensely because she truly is the only person who never expected you to be her. There’s so much resentment but an equal amount of love within you for your sister.
And while Heeseung has no idea of this resentment you have rotting in your chest, you also have no idea that Heeseung believes the one thing you hold over your sister is the fact that you’re just her, except, well…younger, hotter, wilder, prettier, more inexperienced. Cuter voice. Snarkier attitude. Open, and perhaps, willing.
If you knew that, perhaps Heeseung calling you pretty as if it’s his natural born right would become something different in your head. Perhaps you’d want to live in your sister’s shadow just once more. Why not try and take what your sister has? Wouldn’t that be fun?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
What a fucking bummer, Heeseung thinks, as he sits on one end of the couch with you on the other. He’s watched you more than the movie at this point, but the clock is tick-tick-ticking, and you’re just sitting there pushing through the horrors with a smile. Something's got to give.
Your sister comes home in three hours, leaving space for just one more movie and he is truly determined to score this win if it’s the last thing he does. The worst part? Morals don’t mean shit if you want him to fuck you.
If there’s one thing Heeseung hates more than losing, it’s one-sided attraction. He knows he’s not the problem, you are for not looking at him long enough. You are for not even considering that he could fuck you better than anyone in all of those porn accounts you follow on twitter. Not that he stalked it or anything (he did.)
And that’s why, as his stare becomes darker, he stands up and scratches the back of his head with a sigh.
“I’ll be right back.” He says, watching you wave him off as if you were totally paying attention to him.
That’s going to change right the fuck now.
He heads to his shared room with your sister, stepping into the walk in closet and examining himself in the wall length mirror before sighing.
Goddamn, he really stopped caring about how he looked once he finally got between your sister’s legs and locked her down. It’s no wonder you gave his friends more attention that night than you’ve ever given to him. He inspects his hair, messy and frizzy from his hoodie being pulled over and off of his head throughout the day. The cowlicks in the back leaving nothing to your imagination in regards to when the last time he washed the fucked-up locks was.
He sighs at himself, licking his palm and trying to tame the cowlick. God, a shower right now would seem ridiculous because he’s supposed to be on the couch with you, standing up the gore and death on screen so your hand will accidentally touch his dick or something.
No good. He needs to backpedal a little bit with his confidence, probably. He steps out of his room, taking his hoodie off at the same time. He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt now, wanting to at least reveal his shoulders and arms to you. Wanting to parade himself around the house until you drip for him.
“Hey.” He walks back into the living room, still rolling the last bit of his left sleeve up and over his shoulder. “Can you pause the movie for like ten minutes and throw a pizza in the oven or something?”
You look up at him and the way he seems like he’s thinking about something far off from any situation that’s currently happening.
“Yeah, sure.” You nod, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “We could just keep watching while the pizza cooks though.”
He chuckles, knowing you’d say that and not at all having an excuse.
“I need to take a shower.” He dead-pans, as if it’s not sudden or weird that he’s decided to rudely interrupt the last movie of the night with a shower that could definitely wait.
“Just shower after we finish the movie.” You roll your eyes, still standing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen. “It’s not like your stink will get any worse in the matter of a few hours.”
Oh, so now he smells bad?! Is that why you aren’t into him?
“Or you could stop complaining and make the fucking pizza.” He snaps for the first time with a tone that indicates you should probably listen and do as he says.
“God, what’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s yours?” He shoots back, far too annoyed that you play hard to get like this. There’s no way you seriously aren’t getting it. “You’re the one sitting around like you’d rather be doing anything else.”
You press the preheat button on the oven, and look at him shocked. Are his–feelings hurt? Are you really acting like a bitch, or uninterested in getting to know the man your sister will probably spend her life with?
Were you really acting like you weren’t having a good time? God, you must be such a drag.
“What? I was having fun, Heeseung, I like watching movies with you.” You try to explain, but he cuts you off.
“Fucking act like it then.” He gripes before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the kitchen.
It’s not like you knew he expected you to be interested in friendship with him or anything. You were just…hanging out. You really didn’t know it was supposed to go differently in his head, and the fact that it appears that he does have a specific expectation? You wonder how to fulfill it.
After all, you’re trying to avoid showing all the interest you actually have for him when you’re hanging out. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And well, by the time he’s out of the shower and presenting himself to you, you think you might have a better idea as to what he’s thinking. Is he trying to impress you right now?
You can smell his cologne mixed with a minty scented shampoo. His hair looks blow dried. His skin is glistening, and he’s fucking shirtless.
He watches when he sits down, this time closer to you on the couch presumably so you could share the pizza sitting on the coffee table just in front of you then he checks the clock. Only about thirty minutes wasted out of the remaining time he has with you alone, and then he checks you. Staring. Damn right.
To you, he looks different.
Not just handsome, or kind of endearing in a loser way. But he actually looks sexy sitting there, with those loose gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of size, and his exposed torso makes it harder to keep your eyes to yourself.
His broad shoulders seem to accentuate his neck much more than you imagined considering you never have seen him lounge around like this, and his hair is no longer dented. It’s washed, fresh, and looks fucking good on him.
Then, his smirk. It’s permanent on that knowing face of his.
“What are you looking at?” He side eyes you, totally ignoring the pizza because he wasn’t actually hungry.
He feels a victory welling up in his chest at the way you look at him though, seeing you already get so flustered? So easy.
“Um,” You pause, tearing your eyes away in embarrassment. “Nothing.”
He chuckles once in a short breath before stretching himself back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide and taking dominance over the space in the room.
“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He flirts easily, testing the waters of how willing you are to admit that he’s getting his way. “You were checking me out.”
You face forward now, shifting closer to the arm of the couch and pretending like you can't feel the warmth of the hot water he must have used radiating off of him.
“Of course not!” You laugh nervously, lunging forward for the remote again. “Why would I check you out?”
Heeseung rolls his eyes at your shitty attempt to lie.
“Because I took my shirt off for you.” He says, turning his head to look at you with a malicious smirk. “Was that not obvious?”
You turn to look at him in surprise. Why the fuck would he even say that to you?!
“Do you like me better this way? Half naked?”
“What are you talking about?” You avoid him like your life depends on it, not wanting to admit that you definitely find him more attractive right now than you ever have, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this only further pushes you to want what you can’t have.
“You think I’m hot, don’t you?” He presses, bouncing his leg and keeping his eyes on the way your chest heaves at his words.
“You want me, don’t you?” He continues pressing, repeating the question in a way that makes you feel forced to agree with him.
“You’re gonna think about me the next time you–”
“Heeseung!” You shout, turning your entire body towards him with heat searing on your cheekbones. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re dating my sister.” You try to bring both him and yourself back to reality with that statement, more upset internally at the fact that you’re right about it.
He’s dating your sister and yet, he’s…doing this. To you. And you fucking like it?
“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs you off, looking down at his lap and feeling a twitch at the way you don’t leave the room. Proving in some way that you definitely like it. “And I’m still right, aren’t I? You’re just playing hard to get.”
You stare at him, dumbfounded and utterly shocked by his blatant attempts to come onto you. Unfortunately, you’ve never been in this situation before and your eyes tell on you the same way your body language does. Of course he’s right, and you know you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.
“Ah, Yeah.” He smiles, watching how you try to keep your eyes on his face but failing. “I’m right.” He continues, lifting his ass just slightly to accentuate the shape of his cock under these sweats for you to get a good eye full.
You swallow, looking away from him and squeezing your legs together. It feels like such a sudden change of atmosphere. What was once a deniable crush on him becomes a confusing whirlwind wet panties and zero morality.
Does he get off on trying to rile you up? There’s no fucking way he’d actually go through with any of this. He’s just doing it because he thinks it’s cute that you want him. Right?
You know for a fact that if Jay talked to you this way, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. But this is Heeseung. Not Jay, not Jake, not Sunghoon, with their shitty attempts at trying to pull off the exact thing. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad.
“I’m going to my room.” You swallow around the thick words, not at all wanting to leave the room solely because your body is giving in instantly to the fact that Heeseung is dirty talking to you for no goddamn reason.
Perhaps it’s the fact that the one thing your sister has that you shouldn’t ever be able to obtain is doing this. Never did you think a mere idea that he’s attractive would turn into a split second decision of wanting him to fuck you.
“No, you’re not.” He chuckles, spreading his legs a bit wider now and looking down at his lap, the same exact spot your eyes are looking at. “You’re going to try and keep your eyes on the screen, and we’re going to finish this movie.”
Safe to say, that was a harder demand to follow than you anticipated and he seemed to fucking love raising his brow at you each time he caught your eye on him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By the time your sister returned home and essentially tamed her boyfriend from acting out any longer, you felt…insane. She tamed him without even knowing that he was acting out, not double-taking at all when she walked in to him spread out and shirtless on the couch with you struggling to watch the movie. You felt his confidence radiating, making the living room feel suffocating and unstable in terms of if you belong there or not.
You find yourself in your room now, cuddling up in your bed with thoughts ruminating on how you have not one, not two, not three, but four men throwing themselves at you. You don’t recall ever actually giving them the idea that this is okay. Or maybe you did? You’re not sure.
You scroll through your text messages, old friends from back home falling into the background each time you open a message from Jake, or the other two that consistently check in with you like you’re some sort of prize to be won.
Maybe you want to be a prize for some handsome guy to flaunt though, and you embody all of that confidence you got from, somehow, having the one man you’re not supposed to ever obtain parading around for you.
You embody it to text back. To be bold. To give in to the arousal that just slammed you in the gut, reeling from the very idea that there are men in this world who want to fuck you and you’re about fed up with pretending it’s a lie.
You: are you done with your game?
You send the same message separately to all three of Heeseung’s friends, and somehow you’re still unaware that they all three share the information with each other in discord.
“Are you done with your game?” Jake mimics in a feminine tone. “She’s playing with all of us.”
Jay chuckles through the mic, damning them to be second and third place as he quickly texts back.
Jay: no, but I can be. Why?
“To be fair, we’re kind of playing with her too.” Sunghoon cuts in, responding in his own way to your text and telling you that he’s bored, that he’s waiting on you to give him a date and time to pick you up, that he’s annoyed with his friends.
“Well, yeah!” Jake bellows through the muffled mic. “I mean, look at her.”
“Oh, I’ve looked.” Sunghoon smiles at himself before snapping his eyes to the discord and noting how Jay has muted himself.
“That mother fucker.”
Jake follows suit, noting exactly what Sunghoon is calling out before lending a groan of his own.
“He’s trying so hard.” He rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Jay is probably already mid text-conversation with you.
And he would be right, as you lay against your pillows and let Jay’s conversation overpower the two other unopened texts from his friends.
You: im a little overwhelmed right now, not sure how to explain it.
Jay: overwhelmed how?
You: well…
You take a second to yourself to breathe, feeling your entire body radiate with a feeling that can only resemble that of want, or perhaps need. You’ve sexted multiple times in your life, but never in a situation where you’re sexting because you’re overwhelmed more than just aroused.
It’s the fact that you’re bringing it up this time after playing uninterested since any of them started texting you. You’ve dodged Jake’s dick pics, you’ve pushed off the date you agreed to go on with Sunghoon, and you’ve even gone as far as telling Jay you’re not interested at all.
Now though? You can imagine what he’d think of you to see you bring it up. Do you care though? Not that much. After all, you’re single, you’re consumed by the ability to do whatever you want, and Jay’s hot.
You: im frustrated.
You: REALLY frustrated.…sexually
Jay: oh yeah? for me?
You stare at the screen, sending him an emoji that confirms your words for a third time before swiping away and looking at your inbox of available men. You know who else is hot? Sunghoon.
You: hey if we went on a date, where would you take me?
Sunghoon: probably a movie or something idk, why? what would you wanna do?
You: id wanna go to your house
Sunghoon: and why is that, cutie?
And as you pick up conversations with both men, reeling from the attention, you think…hmm, you wanna know who else is hot? Jake.
You: Jakeeeee
Jake: whaaaat :)
You: remember that dick pic you sent to me then begged me to delete because it was an accident?
Jake: …
You: i didn’t delete it.
Jake: you like it?
You: maybe.
And you guess this is who you are now, plotting and setting up some form of sexting situation with three different men, who are all very close friends, who all very much seem to reciprocate your advances.
It’s actually pretty cool, as you lay here reading words from a different man every two minutes. Jay telling you exactly how he could help you with that frustration, Sunghoon asking you to explain what you’d wanna do in his house with him, and then Jake blatantly sending his cock to you again like he has nothing better to do.
It’s all fun and games until things start to get real heated and you get kind of into it. Focusing on Jay’s little message of, “im helping you out here, you should help me too. send pics.”
You ask yourself why you consider doing it before swiping away and landing on a video of Jake, face bright and smiling before lowering the camera. Blatantly fucking himself just because you said he had a nice dick.
Your body is feeling permanent goosebumps because of those two, overwhelming you more than you could have imagined to see just how far they’d be willing to go to try and convince you to do the same for them.
Sunghoon brings a different form of arousal in his inbox though. Far more tame than the others, asking you to push, telling you to say all of the dirty things rather than him. Pushing for a date.
Sunghoon: keep talking to me like this, ill come get you right now.
You: not yet, just this for now.
Sunghoon: no pressure, are you touching yourself at least?
You: I am
Sunghoon: yeah? thinking about me too right?
You: yea
You’re lying. Kind of. Half-lying, at least, because you are thinking about him but you’re also thinking about Jake, and Jay, and sending nudes, and– Heeseung.
You’re thinking about Heeseung, and only because you can hear the shuffling in the room a wall over. Then? Thumping, right behind you as you lay in your bed. At this moment, you should be able to focus on the men blatantly trying to fuck you, but instead you’re reminding yourself of how Heeseung looked earlier.
And you’re listening. Thumping, thumping, thumping, until you hear–
“Don’t cover your mouth, she’s probably asleep anyway.” You hear Heeseung bellow out in a far-away voice.
Great. They’re fucking. Just fucking great. Well, now what? You think, as you thumb back and forth between messages with frustration.
Your mind reels as you listen though. Imagining Heeseung more than anything being the force behind those thumps on your wall. His voice almost croaked when he regarded you directly to your sister while fucking her. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? All it took was a single day of marathoning movies?! A single shower?!
God, you’ve got to seem desperate to be reacting this way. He probably thinks that shit is funny. And as you now shove your headphones in your ears so as to not hear anymore of it, you stand on your feet and walk to your bathroom. You’re too interested in being fucked now, might as well give the boys something to look at, right?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“She really is trying to get away with it.” Sunghoon says, dumbfounded by the receipts provided by all three boys in their own private group chat.
Without Heeseung.
“Yeah, but she sent me an ass pic.” Jay boasts, smiling to himself and silently saving the other provided images that you sent to his friends.
“Whatever, I’m picking her up today for what she wants to call a “date”. She literally said she wanted me to pull her hair.”
Jake gasps, offended.
“What the fuck? She said she wanted to pull my hair!” He groans. “Why am I the one she thinks would like that?! I have a big dick! I could–”
“Anyway,” Jay cuts him off. “She really is just like her sister. Heeseung doesn’t even know how I’ve seen his precious girlfriend’s pussy, only a matter of time before I’m seeing her little sister’s too.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, ignoring Jake’s huffing and puffing as he does his best not to laugh at Jay’s almost victory over your sister.
“Well, I’m getting the girl this time.” He says, opening his texts and reading through the presumed masturbation session he shared with you last night. “Said she couldn’t wait to see me.”
“I’m sure she could though.” Jay says, competitive, wanting to win. “You’ll see.”
Sunghoon can sense the competition in the air, knowing that Jay is probably coming up with some lame ass plan to get in your pants before he can even get the chance to pick you up tonight.
And then there’s Jake.
“You know, maybe she’s right.” He rambles on, thinking hard about how your dynamic with the other two seems to differ greatly from the way you speak to him. “I do have better hair than both of you combined.”
And they stay like that, roasting each other while simultaneously lusting over the same girl until Heeseung gets online and pings them in the regular group chat for a round of gameplay.
“What’s up, virgins?” Heeseung greets, booting up his game and noting the silence in the voice chat.
“I said, what’s u–”
“We heard you.” Sunghoon chimes in, preparing himself for a direct mission of humbling the fuck out of him. “Call me a virgin all you want, doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting my dick wet tonight.”
“Please.” Heeseung laughs, rolling his eyes as he waits for them to get into the game lobby. “Who would stick your dick in them anyway?”
“Your girlfriend’s little sister.” Sunghoon announces.
Excuse me?
“In your dreams.” Heeseung tries to laugh, but is interrupted yet again by his two other friends laughing first. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Sunghoon hums a confirmation, which leads Heeseung to wonder what the fuck happened in the span of one single night. He could have sworn he had you in the palm of his hand on that couch. He knew you heard how good he fucks your sister.
There’s no way.
“Nah, she’s already got a crush on someone else.” He continues to brush Sunghoon off. “And it’s not you.”
“Yeah, because it’s me.” Jay laughs, bombarding Heeseung with another low blow. “Why else would she take her shorts off for me?”
Anger? Yes. Jealousy? Also yes.
“Bullshit.” Heeseung calls out, staring at his discord and the way his friend’s names light up every time they laugh.
“What are they trying to do, Jake? Spill.”
Jake silences his laughing.
“Oh, you think he didn’t get nudes too?” Jay laughs harder. “She sent them to all three of us last night. Different pictures too, she wasn’t skimping on the goods, I can tell you that much.”
Heeseung takes a moment to breathe through his nose. “And just why did she send you nudes?”
“I didn’t even ask for them, Hee, honest!” Jake tries to get on his good side. “I guess showing her my dick did something for her though.” That did not get him on Heeseung’s good side.
“Why the fuck is she sending you guys nudes?” He asks again, this time slightly raising his voice.
You should have been sending him nudes to prove your insatiable lust that you must have. Right? Like, why not him? If anyone?
“Oh, right.” Sunghoon finally reveals the truth. “First person to fuck her wins.”
“Is that so?” Heeseung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes at their stupid usernames.
Competition is what he’s best at.
“Yeah.” Sunghoon confirms. “And by the end of the night, I’ll be the winner.”
“That’s what he thinks, anyway.” Jay snickers. “She’s already texted me a cute little good morning like she didn’t sext three guys last night.”
“Mhm.” Jake hums into the mic. “Me too.”
Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion at that, now checking his phone and noting that he hasn’t received his own good morning from you yet. Weird.
“You guys are aware that you can’t do that, right?” Heeseung chimes in, knowing that he’s playing their game now. And he’s good at playing games. “You seriously can’t be trying to rail my girlfriend’s sister.”
“Yeah. We are, actually.” Jay overtakes the conversation. “Besides, she wants it.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You wake up feeling insanely embarrassed by how you acted like night.
Tonight’s date with Sunghoon probably won’t happen. There’s no way you can live up to the confidence you showed him.
You: hey can we raincheck?
Sunghoon: no wtf?
He reacts negatively, because his victory is now being ripped from his hands by the prize herself. It’s not even just like, the fact that he wants to fuck you just to say he did it before anyone else could. It’s the fact that you’re kind of cool. Incredibly hot, and super willing to slut yourself out.
Just his type. He loves being able to tame girls and keep them locked between his legs, with his cock in their throat.
You: sorry i just don’t feel good today, can try this weekend?
Sunghoon sighs, sending you a short approval before focusing back on the intense game playing out on his screen.
“She canceled on me.” Sunghoon complains, shooting a player dead between the eyes before crouching and running off to find his next kill of frustration. “Jay, what did you fucking do?”
Jay snorts, smirking on his end of the screen, camping like an asshole in a bathroom and waiting for some unsuspecting dad of six to run by and get his cheeks clapped by some idiot with the username of DADDYJAY02.
“Told her I’d fuck her real good if she cancels.” He jokes, mostly focused on the current game at hand.
Heeseung is pleased to learn that you’re skipping the date though, leading him to believe that maybe he was right in thinking he’s got you in the palm of his hand.
Still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got nudes in your phone. Nudes that you sent to three fucking losers that couldn’t even come close to doing what he could do for you.
“He’s talking shit. She hasn’t left her room all morning.” Heeseung says. “I already told you guys that she has a crush on someone, and it’s not any of you. So, you can go ahead and kiss your bullshit sex-game goodbye.”
Jake pipes in now, listening to the sheer amount of confidence coming from Heeseung and Jay.
“I dunno.” He breathes, picking people off one by one in his own, less-than-great playstyle. “She’s still texting me and being all cute. Maybe she just thinks you guys are weird.”
“What did she say?” Heeseung asks, now more focused on what Jake might say rather than the fact that Jay just got downed and needs help.
“Something about how she feels embarrassed about everything but likes talking to me, heart emoji and all.” He says in a nonchalant tone, now being downed himself in game. “Me and Jay are down.”
“Stay down then.” Heeseung scoffs, ignoring both dying friends as he focuses on the win.
“Dude, fucking pick me up.” Jay now argues, throwing his hands up at the gameplay, watching Heeseung blatantly run straight past him. “Heeseung! Pick me the fuck up!”
He snickers in response.
“Stop trying to fuck her and I’ll pick you up.”
“I’d rather die.” Jay argues back, accepting his in-game death and instead pulling his phone out to text you. “In fact, I’ll text her right now.”
Sunghoon, listening to the chaos and still neck-to-neck in terms of kills with Heeseung, tries to ignore the fact that he’s losing the only game he cares about winning right now.
“All three of you are starting to get annoying.” Sunghoon mumbles into the microphone, killing the last remaining player and stretching his arms out in a sigh.
“You’re just mad because she’s ghosting you for me.” Jake sings out happily.
Heeseung listens, seething in his head about how they’re really just gonna keep doing this shit and decides, fine.
He’s already playing the game they’re playing. He’s been playing it for much longer, actually, with those panties he took from your dresser when he built it. With the way he placed your bed against the same wall his bed is against, just so you could listen and suffer for his cock to stuff you full instead.
If it’s a fucking competition they want, they’re gonna get it.
And with that? He logs off without so much as a goodbye before heading to his bathroom. For the first time in years caring more and more about how he dresses and carries himself just to see you want him.
He styles his hair, brushes his teeth, perfects his hair with the hood up on his hoodie, and then heads straight to your room.
“Hey, Sunghoon said he’s supposed to be going on a date with you tonight.” He says as soon as he gets to your door.
You look panicked.
“Oh, he told you?” You say, avoiding eye contact with him because goddamn does he look good today but also, what the fuck Sunghoon?!
“Yeah.” He answers in a less than entertained tone.
“Did he–” You pause, now looking at him and his stupid attractive stance against your door. “–say anything else?”
“Oh, he told me all about it.” He admits to you now, loving the way you curl into your own embarrassment. “I did warn you, you know.”
You blink at him, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Especially because the only reason you went for his friends was because he got you all choked up.
“Still, I thought you’d tame yourself a little bit. I mean– Jay too? Really?” Heeseung starts to pick you apart with the information he’s learned today. “And Jake?”
You groan out, covering your face with both hands.
“God, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You try to explain. “I just–”
“You were wet.” He answers for you, smiling at the way you try to run from the truth. “So wet for me that you ran to my friends?”
Only now do you move your hands from your face and look at him. Shocked that he got straight to the point, and is entirely correct.
“You got their hopes up, you know.” He continues, taking control of the situation as he crosses his arms and leans his head back and against your doorframe. “Right after getting my hopes up.”
“What are you–”
“You know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what I’m doing.” He cuts you off, speaking for you, thinking for you, not letting you get a word in to doubt a single thing he’s saying. “You know what you’re doing too. So, look at me next time I come in here and call you out on your bullshit.”
Your eyes stay on him, full of embarrassment and a sense of guilt. You feel scolded, which is so fucking wrong and weird for it to come from him of all people.
“Time to stop pretending now, babe. If you want this–” He says, looking down between his legs and grabbing his bulge. “You’ll stay away from my friends.”
And then he just…leaves with a smile? Doesn’t even let you respond?
“I’m going to the store, we don’t have shit to eat in this house.” You hear him complain as he walks down the hallway, acting as if he didn’t just word-fuck you with the truth that you weren’t quite ready to accept.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re losing it. Truly, you’re losing every ability in your body to ignore the fact that you not only think about Heeseung in ways you shouldn’t, you want him in ways that should be a fucking crime.
Seeing him grab himself like that in your doorway? Fuck, if he hadn’t of walked away right after, you very well may have found yourself with your ankles up by your ears, begging him to use it on you.
No self restraint at this point, and you don’t even care.
Your phone is long forgotten as you pace your room, wondering if you should leave the house too, just to find a sex shop that has a Heeseung sized and shaped cock for you to fuck yourself on in order to get this intense feeling of need out of you.
That’s really all it took for him to make you go fucking feral for it? A little bit of flirting? A little bit threatening? A grab of his cock, practically dangling it in front of you like the two of you are allowed to be having those kinds of moments together?
Fuck him for knowing how to get you horny more than you know how to do it yourself. Since when did you like men to act that way towards you? Since fucking when did you get off on a boyfriend that your sister intends to fucking marry?!
It’s so fucked up, and it’s equally fucking hot to you because it’s fucked up.
Out of everything your sister has that you don’t, Heeseung is the one you want most. And he’s just fucking…he’s just–
God damn it. You sigh, pacing back and forth, checking the time on your phone and ignoring all of your unread texts. Heeseung has only been gone for a total of ten minutes and it feels like you’ve been pacing for hours.
Throbbing between your legs at the small glimpses of his size under whatever pants he wears. With his hair, and his skin, and his stupid, shit-eating smirk that he throws at you. Telling you he knows. Showing you that he likes it.
You stop your pacing for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and flutter the images of him out of your head. Trying to get the reality to come back to you.
What’s fucked up is that it is reality that he’s doing this to you. You can’t avoid it like it’s a guilty little wet dream you’d be able to hide.
It’s real.
And, well, fuck it. You love your sister just as much as you always have, even as you want to fuck her boyfriend. Even as her boyfriend seemingly wants to fuck you.
Even as you leave your room, entering their room for the first time.
Even as you inspect their bed, the placement suspiciously right on the other side of your own bed against the wall.
Even as you smell the familiar scent of Heeseung on one of the pillows and instantly throw yourself on the bed against it, shoving it between your legs in a desperate and obvious show of how much you really, really, fucking want it.
And if this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind? So be it.
His pillow is soft, offering little pressure to your clit as you writhe against it, but you moan louder than you ever have while pleasuring yourself. For once, the house is empty and for once, you have a point of arousal that doesn’t involve porn.
Your mind falls into images of him, and the way he moves his body during every day instances. Then, to the way he sounded when he fucked your sister in this very same bed. He must fuck hard, because that consistent thumping on your wall seemed to prove it already.
Fuck, you hope he fucks hard.
You saw the outline of it a few times by now too, so big even while flaccid and uninterested in you. He must know how to contain himself too. Real calm, real collected when it comes to how he’d probably use it.
The images swim up and down behind your eyes as you writhe your clit against the corner of his pillow for what feels like ages, knowing your panties are being pushed into the folds of your wet core, feeling your shorts skew as you move, back and forth, stretching with each grind forward.
You’re aware that parts of your pussy are out in the open between grinds, feeling the soft material of his pillow rub you only slightly raw with the force of your movements, and you simply don’t care. You’re home alone, remember?
Wait. How long have you been doing this again?
“Oh, fuck yeah.” You hear from behind you, startling you into a defensive position of curling around the pillow. “Bumping it real good, weren’t you? Right up on my pillow?” Heeseung laughs, standing just inside of the room with a step much quieter than he’d normally have when he’s walking around.
“Fuck, that’s so gross.” He snickers with hooded eyes and a triumphant smirk as he crosses his arms.
“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Like I wouldn’t be able to smell it? I smelled you when I walked in.”
God, the fucking horror that replaces the arousal hits you harder than you ever knew it could as you jump to your feet on buckled knees and try to mutter out an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
He just said you were gross. He said he could smell you while scrunching his nose.
“I’m sorry, Heeseung, I’m sorry.” You continue, trying to make your way past him ultimately so you can lock yourself in your bedroom to never come out.
“Hmm, what makes you think you could just come in here and fuck my things?” He isn’t going to let you go that easy, of course he isn’t.
The thing about him is, he knows he’s got you now. That little sex bet going with his friends? They’re done for.
Full control of the whole situation is right here in the palm of his hand, and the proof is that embarrassing wet spot you left on his pillow. This was all he needed. You made him chase, and he’ll be damned if he gives you what you want now so easily.
It’s your turn to ache with the same feeling between your legs. You’re going to be fucking gone by the time he finally gives it to you.
“I thought y–” You try to explain, not looking him in the eye when he holds you in place by the arm from leaving.
“Thought I wanted you over her?” He mutters to you in a hot whisper, pulling you back and against him, dipping his head and chasing your line of sight to force you to look at him. “Oh my god, how sad.”
You try look away, entirely confused, embarrassed, fucking ashamed.
Never have you let guilt take you over like this because you’ve never allowed yourself to be in a position to feel so goddamn stupid.
He’s going to tell her what you did. You might as well go pack your shit now and get ready to go back home because this was not okay.
“I’m sorry. I misread…” You’re being forced to look at him, but you still keep your eyes on the bottom of his chin rather than his eyes, feeling his hands squeeze you, not at all noticing how rock fucking hard he is due to the sheer terror you feel at this moment.
“Mm, no you didn’t.” He explains, eyes scanning over your flushed face, tears prickling in your eyes.
And once again, fucking confusion. The weight of guilt lifts off of you at his words, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes this time. Urging him to tell you that he does want you. That everything you thought previously was true.
That he was trying to come onto you.
“You were throwing your legs open for just anyone.” He lands the blow harshly, with his breath hitting you square in the forehead. “I just wanted to see if you were really as slutty as Jay said you were.”
A direct blow to any confidence you ever could have had walking around this house.
You fell for it. Your sister is dating a piece of shit, and somehow you still find him so attractive. You still wish he was lying.
You still wish he liked you, or wanted you on some level.
“God, such a cry baby too.” He rolls his eyes now, breathing in deep before releasing his hold on you. “Go cry in your room, I’m sure you still have an orgasm to get, don’t you?”
You refuse the eye contact again as you try to walk away in a way that you wish could make you disappear. He’s making damn sure to shame you straight into the dirt, and it makes you feel so unclean.
“Don’t you?” He repeats with a louder voice as you walk away, stepping into your room, and closing the door behind you.
Yeah, you’re still probably going to get that orgasm. He knows it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is a nightmare to be around. You’re annoyed that you didn’t notice it before and actually wanted to be around him before that mishap with his pillow.
You can’t read him.
When your sister is home, he ignores you for the most part. He spends his time on his PC yelling with friends, he scoffs at you, looks at you like you look and sound ridiculous any time you say something, yet, when he’s with your sister, he’s so, so, loving.
All over her, really. Hands on her waist, back, thighs, ass. He’s so sexual with her in front of you, to the point that you can’t make eye contact at all with either of them.
To the point that you miss it every time when he checks to see if you’re watching.
What’s worse about Heeseung is that you think now that he has no interest in you. Everything he did really was for an ego boost, or like some shitty game he was playing. It got to the point that, yeah, you’re sexting at least one of his friends as often as possible despite never giving them a reason to come over, and certainly not going to see them yourself.
It’s like a bandaid as you lay in your bed night after night listening to Heeseung on the other side of the wall draw you into a state of lust, pining, and absent passion. So vocal, when he’s fucking her. You always feel alone when he does it, with your fingers slamming away and offering pleasure that never gets you there. You always come up short, never being able to get off.
Even with all of that, he still flirts.
Which fucks you up even more. He’ll make you feel so awful about everything that’s happened, everything you actively say or do, and then turn around and smile at you when your sister is at work.
He’ll offer to make dinner for you. He’ll do your laundry and fold it, always mixing his clothes into the pile by accident. He’ll touch your waist. He’ll brush his hand past yours when he catches you in the hallway while walking by.
When you try to flirt back, or look at him for too long though? Hope in your eyes and weight lifting from your shoulders at his hidden actions? He shuts you down instantly.
Like this morning, when you left your room and went to the kitchen to make coffee, he was already there. He came up behind you real close, rubbing what you presume to be his soft dick against your ass as he lifted and grabbed the filters down for you.
And when you choked up and looked at him? He could see that little glint of hope in your eyes.
“I was just helping. Jesus christ, you’re more needy than your sister.”
Or that time yesterday, when you were lounging on the couch and he came out after a shower in those same fucking sweat pants, without a shirt again, and sat down next to you. Spreading his legs wide, smirking, and watching you try to avoid his eyes.
“Can’t even look at me without getting wet, huh?”
Safe to say, Heeseung is playing the game with his friends a little too hard. Knowing that at any point during the day if he wanted to push you to the floor and take you, he fucking could.
So that leaves you now, sitting here feeling about as crazy as you did the day you ran into his room and started fucking his pillow. Every day is felt with sexual frustration that you don’t know what to do with, even sexting his friends, even receiving their videos and hot words, even with their promises of multiple orgasms and hour long sessions of head, your frustration isn’t satiated.
You worry it never will be if Heeseung doesn’t move out, or like, fall out a window or something.
And as you leave your room to go back to the kitchen for a snack, of course you note the open door of the office that is far too silent compared to thirty minutes earlier.
Of course, Heeseung has trained you to be entirely too curious about what he’s doing at all times when the two of you are alone.
Of course, you don’t turn and walk away the moment you see his back turned, shoulder moving, and a brightly colored hentai flashing across his monitor.
In fact, you stand there solely because you can’t deny yourself of this.
“Was wondering if you’d come in here.” He mutters through a breath, turning his face for a moment before pumping his hand harder. “S’only fair that I let you watch too, right?”
He’s bringing up the pillow incident. Again. Like he hasn’t brought it up a million times since it happened as a form of shaming you. Telling you how it smelled, laughing and asking how many times you planned to do it behind his back.
You’re still frozen though, coming to terms with the fact that he could call you an ugly whore and you’d probably accept it at face value just to watch the very scene in front of you.
Are you selfish or are you just desperate?
Maybe a bit of both.
“Come over here.” He says to your silence, now swiveling his chair around and ignoring the animated fuck-fest on screen.
You take in an inhale, trying not to show it by looking away from him, but ultimately failing when your eyes fall straight to where his hand is in his pants. The tent created by the sheer size of him leaving far too much for you to think about.
Anyone in this situation would call him a loser. Jerking it to hentai? Looking the way he does? Being unemployed and doing this at like, eleven in the morning? You can tell he hasn’t slept too, and that’s entirely something a simp would do. Something a virgin would do.
But, you want him. You’ve never been so attracted to someone, actually. He sees you swallow at the image too, smirking and stilling his hand.
“Shit, you’re really just going to watch me?”
Yeah. You figured that was obvious to him, considering he already thinks you’re gross, embarrassing, and shameless. It’s not like you not watching at this point would change his mind about you.
So, you just stand there, watching, waiting.
Until he gives you a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head.
“Come on, get a better look then.” He encourages you through a soft moan, sliding his fingers on the underside of his length, feeling the pre-cum drip out.
There it is again. Him acting interested.
It’s really the worst because you give in every single time, clinging to the hope that maybe he really is interested this time, only to be shot down time and time again.
Right now is no different from the countless other times he’s flirted just to laugh at you trying to flirt back. Even as you walk towards him with shaking hands gripping the bottom of your own shirt for comfort, you know he’s probably just going to pull his hand out of his pants and probably present a very large cucumber or something before laughing at the fact that you really thought.
Except, he doesn’t do that.
You can see the wet spot at the top of the tent his cock creates, right where the head rubs up against the fabric and it proves that he’s really touching himself right now.
“Lower.” He instructs under hooded eyes, head leaned back against his chair, body slouched and relaxed. “On the floor.”
Ah, the fucking power he has is electrifying. You really just do everything he says in the hopes that someday, he’ll put it in you. In the hopes that someday, he will show you what it is that your sister loves so much about him.
The way you do lower yourself to your knees on his floor, sitting right there in front of him with your eyes glued to the hidden act of what he’s doing to himself? God, you’re dirty.
He chews on his lower lip as he works himself up to the image of you simply on your knees, gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing holding you from falling off of the earth. So pretty, so complacent, so willing.
Fuck, he knows his friends want you and he can imagine that they must furiously get off to this very image themselves, thought up all by themselves. Except they’ve actually seen your body, Heeseung hasn’t seen shit.
“Take it off.” He says through a breath, the words shaking with each pump of his fist as he tries to stimulate the whole length of his cock without pulling it out.
It’s a tight fit in his pants right now, but he isn’t going to show you a damn thing.
You blink up at him, your eyes shining and bright at the fact that you’re fine not seeing it. You seem totally satisfied just watching him pleasure himself.
Oh god, you’re fucking perfect.
Even more perfect when you do remove your shirt, tits sitting nice and naked for him to stare at harder. Big. Plush. Prettier than the ones that are drawn to perfection by horny men on his screen just to the side of him. Prettier than your sister’s, even.
“Ah, yeah.” He comments, hand pumping faster, cock leaking more. “Just sit right there and look pretty for me.”
And, you do. Hands now pressed into the carpet beneath you, gripping the texture much like you did your shirt just to press your tits together for him. Just so he wants you right now, even if he won’t ten minutes from now.
He really does just watch you too. The image of you alone like this seemingly just enough to get him there when you notice his head slam back against the headrest of his chair again.
Bottom lip bitten, eyebrows raised, a held breath, and then he’s releasing that same breath along with his cum. All into his hand and against his pants as he pumps harder through the sensitivity of his orgasm.
Eyes falling back to you, darker this time, he smirks as he slides his hand from his pants, careful not to lose any of that thick, milky, cum, and tipping his fingers at you.
“Ahh-” He opens his mouth, speaking to you as if he’s feeding you a snack, and for some reason, you mimic it.
Your mouth opens as you lean forward and he slips his fingers in, relishing in the feeling of your frantic tongue licking up the taste of him.
So desperate, god, you want it so bad and he can see it.
He can feel it.
And by the time you’ve licked his fingers clean, eyes tearing up because you know he’s about to mock you for how much you loved the taste of it, he pulls his hand back and says nothing.
He doesn’t even smile at you when he stands up, staring down at you like he owns you.
You’re just sitting on the floor shirtless, avoiding his eye contact and preparing for whatever fucked up thing he wants to say about it, salty sweet remnants of his flavor in your mouth, and near tears in your eyes.
“You really did that.” He says before stepping to the side of you and heading for the door. “Swallowed all of it too.”
You did, and of course you’re ashamed despite sitting here wet and aching. You nod as you stare at the floor in shame, hands clasped in your lap.
“Good girl.” He breathes out to you before leaving for the bathroom, not another word muttered to you.
And as Heeseung stands looking at himself in the mirror, chest heaving as he reels from what just took place, he smiles. God, the horror you must feel right now. If you knew how much he liked this and how willing you were to take what you can get, you’d probably be the happiest girl alive.
You’re so willing to feel ashamed, so willing to be shamed, just to look at him? Just to see him do this? Just to suck all of his cum off of his fingers?
You’re fucking crazy.
If you knew how he silently jerked off, breathing in that pillow you had against your pussy, you’d probably orgasm on the spot. If you fucking knew how he stole your panties the very day you moved in, you’d probably give him the ones you’re wearing now just to please him.
Ah, so perfect. It’s only a matter of time now.
Only a matter of time before he wins and shuts his friends up for fucking good, because honestly, it’s getting old now to hear his friends pretend they have a shot at this with you.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Living with your sister became something you never meant for it to be. You’re not living with her, you’re living with fucking guilt, and confusion, and insatiable lust for the man she’s supposed to be pleasing every night.
In fact, the amount you see her is far less than you originally thought. She works so much, and when she’s not working overtime just to come home and love on her asshole of a boyfriend, and tell you sweet goodnights like you didn’t eat his cum off his fingers, she’s sleeping away the exhaustion of being the only good person in this house.
Unfortunately for her though, you don’t care.
You appreciate the freedom she’s given to you on a silver platter, with a nice new bedroom suite and good food in the fridge, but you know she didn’t bring you here with the intention of giving you this much freedom.
She gave you the ability to fuck and be fucked whenever and where ever you want, but the choice wasn’t meant to be Heeseung. With his ever changing moods, annoying gamer rage, and disconcerting need to flirt and shame you.
You can’t believe you’re sitting here across from her before yet another one of her shifts, drinking the same juice, eating the same breakfast, pretending like you haven’t tasted the same cum she has.
You can’t believe that while growing up, you always shared her stuff against her will. She hated finding you wearing one of her favorite tops, or her new pairs of shoes. She would get so mad and all you can think now is that, surely she would kill you if she found out what else you’ve used behind her back.
And when you watch Heeseung kiss her goodbye, he seems all too entertained with the situation. Watching you pretend like you don’t want him, watching your sister be blissfully unaware of who his dick twitches for.
Watching, watching, watching.
Staring, really, at you through the kiss. Up until she leaves for the day and you’re left staring back at him. Heeseung lends you a small wave with an uncaring face, wiggling the same fingers he fucked your mouth with in your face, almost seeming like he’s attempting to lure you to open those same lips again for him.
Almost as if to remind you that you’re pathetic.
And goddammit. You fucking are.
That’s why, of course, you’ve found yourself time and time again in these same text messages. Fully guilty of leading these guys on but not nearly as guilty as you feel each time you show how bad you need it to the one man who doesn’t deserve it.
Jay, if he could, would probably fuck you right on the doorstep by this point with the amount of nudes, phone calls, and blatant shows of sexual interest. You can sense how annoyed he is with cumming all by himself using your photos, but like, that’s very attractive of him to wait.
Sunghoon? So frustrated with you for never following up with him, but entirely willing to fuck you with his dirty words and images of what he’d love to do if you’d just get the fuck out of the house for a day.
And Jake, ah, Jake. The cutest. One you’d take all of this frustration out on, the one who would probably apologize to you for everything bad that’s ever happened to you mid-orgasm solely because he wouldn’t know what else to say or do when he’s feeling so good.
Sexting any of them, or all of them, is really your only relief from the man who looms around this house. But at this point, even that is doing nothing for you.
Even as you read Jay’s texts, knowing he’s actively playing video games at the same time and not jerking off like he claims.
Jay: take a new one, i want more material
You: you’re not even touching yourself, you know I can hear heeseung yell at you right?
Jay: what? you think I can’t multitask?
You: is that why he’s yelling then?
Jay: one handing it and still got more kills than him, yea
God, he’s too confident while being such a fucking loser, but yeah, you’ll send him a new picture. You’ll go ahead and send it to Jake too. And Sunghoon, of course.
Then you pause with your fingers on the screen, zooming in on your body and checking it. Only half wondering what would happen if you took a pussy picture. Only half thinking of sending it to Heeseung. Not the other three, just him.
Half wondering turns to full wondering, as you listen to him yell something about Jay going down again mid match, proving that he probably was, in fact, fucking his fist mid-game and absolutely not getting more kills.
Heeseung’s voice sounds so full of anger. So loud, cracking in pitch even. It’s hard to imagine someone sounding so stupid being able to act in a way that’s made you feel so lost and ashamed of wanting him.
Yet, he did. And that’s why you decide right at this moment, you’ll always give in to his flirting even while knowing he’ll mock you and make fun of you for it. You’ve already dealt with it to the point that you’re used to it. At least you still get something out of it, right?
At least, maybe, he’ll give you something else to feel ashamed of today, right?
And as you take that photo, lying back on your bed, shifting your panties to the side and spreading your lips open for the camera, you snap a photo of your hole for him. Right there, already wet just imagining him thinking you’re pathetic for doing this.
At this point, you’re not feeling too ashamed of it right now. After all, he jerked off looking at you like there wasn’t at least three holes being fucked and filled on the screen behind him before. So…
You send the photo to him, ignoring the displayed message from Jay stating, “you only sent this one to me, right?”
And then you wait.
And you wait.
And wait.
You can still hear Heeseung yelling his gaming talk, but you watch his text messages like a hawk. Feeling nervous, terrified, embarrassed, shamed, turned on, curious, wet.
Each time he’s silent, you stare at the messages, up until you notice that he’s opened it.
He saw it.
You wait for footsteps, you wait to hear him tell his friends that he’ll be back. You wait for him to stomp in here and call you gross.
And you wait more.
And more.
Up until you can’t wait any longer and you find yourself shifting up and off of your bed, leaving your phone behind as you make your way to the office. He’s facing away from you as usual, the character on screen on a swivel as the scope of the gun searches for a head to shoot, and then– his phone.
Right there beside him, open, the image pulled up.
“What are you trying to do?” He says, but you can’t tell if it’s for you or his friends.
You stand there, pussy looking much the same as it was in that photo, except now with your shorts back on you, and panties back in place.
“Trying to fuck me over right now?” He continues when a kill screen shows up and he’s got a few seconds to lift his hand from the mouse. Not even looking at you, he beckons you with two fingers and pushes his chair back just slightly.
By the time you get up beside him, he puts his fingers over his mouth, glancing up at you, then down at his phone and tapping it. Immediately after tapping, he points to the floor in front of him, scooting back more to make room for you.
The silent conversation is loud as he narrows his eyes at you when you sink to your knees on the floor in front of him. You crawl under the desk, legs quivering at the idea that he’s absolutely ignoring you, but also inviting you.
As if he’s feeding you what you want. As if he doesn’t need this too.
And maybe he doesn’t, you think, as you carefully reach forward to his knees, feeling him push his chair in and trap you under the desk. He doesn’t look hard, proving that he’s simply allowing you to quench your thirst for his cum, surely.
Allowing you to be pathetic.
Allowing you to see it.
And finally, you do. He’s even polite enough to lift his ass up a bit just to let you pull his sweats down to get it out. Slowly growing at the feeling of your breath against it.
You breathe deeply before you press your lips against it instantly, darting your tongue out curiously and closing your eyes to relish in the first taste of his skin. It’s a clean taste, and despite him not being fully hard for this just yet, it only drives you to do better, to do more, until he actually wants you to do this for him, not just for you.
You could argue that it seemed much bigger when he was jerking it off in front of you, then again, he’s still not fully hard yet.
It actually hurts your feelings that you’re the one needing to get him horny right now. After all, you are clearly hungry for it, not him.
And you take him into your mouth again, and again, feeling him stiffen by the second. Still, his focus isn’t on you or what you’re doing down here.
Until it is, anyway.
By this point, you’re actually struggling to take him into your mouth, and you can argue he’s only at half-girth as you try. The top of your head bumps his desk every few seconds, which forces you to keep him in your mouth.
Kind of terrifying actually, to have put something in your mouth so readily only to regret the fact that his cock is essentially locked in by the small pace you’re trapped in, and it’s only swelling up more and more by the second.
Hardening until your throat is constricting around it, forcing you to gag and search for breath.
It’s hard to breathe as you cough and drool around him, frantically trying to pull off of him and hitting your head hard against the desk when you do.
He fucking chuckles at it before you feel his hand slip under the desk with you and grab his now fully hard cock. What does he do with it? He fucking slaps it straight across your face before forcing it right back between your lips.
You hate to say how wet that made you, and you hate even more to say that you kind of like the feeling of your throat getting bruised. Willing yourself to gag around him again, trying to twitch your tongue against the weight of his far too big length in your mouth.
You don’t want him to laugh though, you want him to fucking moan. All for his friends to hear. After all, it’s the first time you’re going down on him and it’ll probably be the last time too, right?
Not to mention, you’ve barely had experiencing sucking dick as it is, he should he fucking helping you get through this.
But he’s not. He’s just…playing his fucking game. Hell, the twitches of his length against your gag reflex is probably more for the kill he gets rather than the way your dripping spit all over and down his balls.
This is embarrassing, and yet– you love it. You fucking adore it, with the way your clit aches just at the thought that he’s letting you put your mouth on him at all.
Maybe it really is for you, and not for him.
“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung groans, probably more to his game than to you.
His hand shoots under the table, right to the top of your head as his other balances himself on the seat of his chair. There, he holds your head down on him and angles his hips just slightly to fuck up. Gaging you repeatedly, holding back his own moans at the way you’re just going to let him use you like this.
And as quickly as it happened, that short grunt from him not going unnoticed, he’s drawing his hands back above his desk, relaxing his body, and giving back the control.
Already, you can hear his fingers against the keyboard again.
“Back in the game, Jay, to the right!” He shouts, showing you that he absolutely just fucked your face because he got fucking downed in the game.
And you continue, trying to give him that same feeling that he forced on you just now, and never quite getting the same force behind your lips or tongue for him. His cock is throbbing though, choking you with each dribble and spurt of precum, up until he’s pulling the same trick.
Fucking up, holding your throat down on him, for just a bit until he’s back in the game and playing.
This happens for what feels like forever. To the point that surely, you’re drenching the carpet under you, and you’re starting to feel insecure in the fact that he hasn’t cum yet. Are you really just…bad at giving head?
Heeseung’s legs shift as you continue, slowing your pace and trying to rub your jaw through it with your free hand that’s not gripping the fabric of his lowered sweats. You do this up until his cock is suddenly sliding further and further out of your throat when he rolls his chair back.
Ah.
Oh.
Oh, my god. You think, getting the first glimpse of his face since you started. Blown out pupils staring down under his desk, hair a mess, mic right up against his smirking lips.
He looks…like he enjoyed it? Maybe? Are you getting ahead of yourself?
“You want more?” He asks, straight into the mic and confusing his friends. “I can see how much you want it, baby, come on. I’ll give it to you.”
You stare up at him, pretending that when you crawl out from under the desk and try to stand, you can’t hear the way he turns up the volume of his friends responding in confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You hear the familiar voice of Sunghoon. “If you’re gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least mute yourself, dick.”
You nervously glance to his game that’s still full screened. You knew he was gaming with his friends since this morning, but for him to talk to you like this as if they can’t hear him?
“They’ll want to hear you.” He comments now, alerting his friends that he’s obviously not talking to them. “Trust me, they don’t fucking shut up about you.”
That’s when they realize.
“No fucking way.” Jake blurts. “There’s no way.”
Jay remains silent, staring at his unanswered text message before minimizing his game and dropping his mouth in surprise.
“Come on then, you already let me fuck that pretty mouth, might as well, right?” He says to you again, this time lifting his hips and tapping his desk. “Bend over for me.”
What you think is just an unmuted mic, unfortunately, is much, much more than that. You see, Heeseung likes to stream to his friends, back and behind his full screened game was the image of him suffering through your need to deep throat him half to death.
He remained calm, at first not exactly wanting his friends to know. Not wanting them to see you like this, and most certainly not wanting them to have any images of you to get off to. But now? Oh, to win their own game in front of them?
‘Fuck, look at that.” He says, watching you take the spot in front of him and bend over his desk, keyboard buttons pressing in and glitching the screen out momentarily due to your tits lying against it. “Now look up.” He instructs.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Jake blurts again once he minimized his game and instantly saw you on the camera, looking so out of it, so unaware. “Sunghoon, are you seeing this?”
Jay was still watching with his mouth agape, cock leaking as it always does for you except now? It’s the fact that Heeseung is really just gonna do something so awful to your sister? He’s really going to fuck you right here, right now? With proof?!
“Heeseung, don’t.” Sunghoon warns, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him.
“Don’t what? Sunghoon?” Heeseung smiles as he reaches his hands around the front of you, pulling you back by groping both of your tits. “Fuck your girl in front of you?”
You just listen, shocked that Sunghoon is actually asking Heeseung to stop. Shocked that they apparently have beef or something, over you? Surely not.
“No–” Sunghoon chokes back. “Don’t turn off the camera.”
“Camera?!” You panic, trying to break free of his grip on your chest, but he holds you there, pressing you closer with your back to his chest, his cock throbbing under your thigh.
“What? Now you have an issue with cameras?” Heeseung seethes sarcastic words into your hair, squeezing your tits harder now. “Relax, baby, I know they’ve already seen you like this.”
“Right?” Heeseung now directs his attention to the screen, lunging forward to quickly minimize the full-screened game, getting a good look at his friends and you in the camera against him.
The image is wildly attractive to him for many reasons. For one, he can see himself on the screen with his point of desire sitting right here on his lap. Secondly, his friends are awestruck by what he gets to have right now. Shamelessly watching, biting their words back, taking in deep breaths. And lastly, he can tell that everyone on camera right now either wants to be him or be fucked by him.
What’s not to love about this?
And Heeseung is quick when he flashes his eyes away from each of his friends, straight to you in the camera, watching you avoid looking at the screen. He moves one hand from your chest, pushes his chair back, and immediately cups between your legs.
“You show them this too, or was that just for me?”
You shake your head at Heeseung, reeling with embarrassment and arousal as you try to squeeze your legs closed around his hand. You feel choked up, throat sore, legs buckled, clit throbbing for him to dig his palm against it.
“Mm, you see that Jay?” Heeseung moves his eyes to his friend on screen. “Couldn’t even get her to show her pussy for you?”
Jay appears entirely tuned into the situation, eyebrows sitting furrowed and focused on you. God, if only he focused that much in game, Heeseung thinks he could probably out rank him if he wanted to.
“Jake?” Heeseung trails to his other friend, making sure each and every one of them hears and sees exactly what he’s doing.
Your eyes follow the names Heeseung calls out. Shyly, somewhat dazed. Tearing your eyes from Jay was already hard enough as is. After all, seeing his blatant attraction to you right there, in front of everyone? Maybe you should have let him hit, even just once because damn. It’s almost pitiful, that look in his eye as he watches you.
Jake on the other hand? You can tell he lets his hair fall partly in front of his eyes but he smiles to himself while watching. Something about seeing him like this makes you feel like you’ve just experienced extreme whiplash. It embarrasses you more knowing that you figured Jake was too inexperienced to know how to fuck a girl. He was too sweet.
Too soft.
Too different from his friends.
As you look at him now though, you realize he isn’t different at all. In fact, he might have been more full of shit than any of the others as you stare at his wicked eyes and nod of approval at Heeseung.
Hell, he’s even the one who mutters out a small, “Show us her tits.”
The only reason Heeseung does as Jake asked is because he can’t help but relish in the look on their faces of seeing what they could have had, but now never will. To see them lose. To witness him win.
They’re pathetic. Truly, when he drags your shirt up your belly and over your chest. Already braless, of course. And honestly, you’re shocked that they all react this way like you didn’t just send them tit pics but–
This is more embarrassing somehow. Four pairs of eyes are on you and only one pair of hands. You want all of their hands.
“I fucking knew you’d let me do this.” Heeseung chuckles against your ear, cupping his hands under your tits and presenting them to his friends. Bouncing them, rubbing them, pulling on both nipples before releasing them and letting your tits fall into their natural position. “Knew you were a slut the moment I saw the kind of panties you had hidden in that suitcase of yours.”
You glance away from the camera now, knowing Heeseung is right with his words.
“You should be fighting me, not dripping that pretty pussy all over me. Am I wrong?”
You should be fighting. You shouldn’t be okay with this moment being broadcasted to three different people that you’ve been leading on. And yeah, you should hate him for all of the confusion and mental anguish he put you through.
Yet, the arousal you have for him outweighs all of it. The arousal you have for this situation in general outweighs any shame you could feel, or the shame that comes after it.
Being wanted like this by four men who you find incredibly attractive?
“What more could a girl want?” You murmur in a hushed tone, rolling your hips just slightly on his lap, letting him feel the warmth of you seep into his sweatpants. His cock still hard and raging from your previous actions of choking on him.
Those words shock him as his eyes glance to the screen, noting how you’re writhing your body on him, totally shameless, totally fucking perfect with your tits out and on display, only pushing for more. It’s the fact that he fucking forgot he had his head set on for a moment and didn’t even catch that you whispered that shit straight into his mic.
He only realized it when he saw three faces on screen drop to a slack jawed expression and Sunghoon immediately leaned forward with a groan of “spread her legs.”
On any other day, for Heeseung, Jake, or Jay, seeing Sunghoon clearly push his pants down his thighs off camera would make them recoil and make fun of him. But they’re not right now, because the focus isn’t on any of the cocks being openly hard in this shared online space.
The focus is on you, and the way Heeseung absolutely spreads your legs and pushes your knees up by the thighs so that the flat of your feet are resting on his knees. There, he drops his hands from your tits and reaches around you, rubbing the line of your shorts on the insides of your thighs just enough that glimpses of your panties flash every few seconds.
From back here, the camera offers Heeseung the same view but it hits him differently because he’s the one doing it. He’s got his head resting on your shoulder as he watches, noting how you lean your head back against his own shoulder and breathe through his guided touches.
“Look at yourself.” He turns his head to whisper right against your cheek. “You’d let us all take a turn, hm? Wouldn’t even know which dick is in you.”
Your eyes open in a roll, landing your gaze on the screen and feeling flushed at the image. You don’t care how embarrassing or pathetic you are for this. No, because, look at them. Everyone wants you to act like this.
“Probably wouldn’t even care either, as long as you’re being fucked. Yeah, that’s right.”
Nodding in a daze against him, you roll your hips harder, trying to bump his hand against your pussy, trying to prove to everyone that you have three holes and two hands for a reason.
You don’t flinch when he slides his hands up the leg of your shorts either, pulling them to the side to reveal how wet you are to everyone. Listening to your body and the way it sings to him, brushing his knuckles against the swell of your clit, tapping the space where your hole sits and clenches to be seen.
“Ah, fuck.” Jay finally lets out in a shaky breath, hand clearly still working himself because, well, he was half hard before you made an even appearance on camera. “It looks like she pissed herself–”
Heeseung laughs as he drags his eyes to the image between your legs, so wet, entirely drenched through your nearly see-through panties at this point. Jay is right, it does look like you’ve pissed yourself, which only makes his cock throb more. That you’re so wet for him? So fucking drenched? God, he doesn’t even need lube with you.
You slick up so nice for him, it’s actually becoming painful not to test the stickiness, the slide it offers, the warmth. With this much pouring out of you, like you’ve already squirted, surely you could take all of him.
In an instant he pushes you from his lap, making you feel dizzy and light headed because suddenly you’re on your feet in front of him again. He gives you no time to balance yourself when he’s pulling your shirt up and off of you in a huffed out sigh, holding you in place by your tits to keep you from toppling over and breaking his monitor.
And when you steady out, his hands run straight down, shoving your shorts and panties down in one go before immediately pulling you back to his lap, holding your arms behind you, and spreading his own legs to force yours open for his friends.
“Take a good, long, look.” Heeseung directs towards his friends, sliding his hand in front of you and using two fingers to present your hole to them. “If you think she’s pretty, let her know now.”
It’s the way Heeseung moves his hand from behind you just to set his headset on your head now, quickly pinning your arms in place again and allowing you to listen to his friends do just that.
Immediately, pussy spread and unintentionally clenching in the camera, one of your senses is enveloped with the sound of Jay’s palm shamelessly dragging up and down his hidden cock. Then, the sound of Jake and his deep inhales paired with slight cracked whines, just as shameless, doing much the same.
Then, Sunghoon.
Fucking Sunghoon. Barely moving, but more willing to talk to you with that headset on your head.
“This why you didn’t come over?” He asks you blatantly in a breathy voice, glaring at the fingers of Heeseung holding your cunt open for him. “That could be me right now, but you’re really just going to fuck him? Of all people?”
You groan, lifting your head to give a proud nod and accidentally bumping Heeseung in the chin with the action.
The bump forces him to bite his tongue, a metallic taste of the small amount of blood flooding his mouth mixed with saliva when he dips his head, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your mouth to his.
You can taste the blood too, when he presses his wet tongue past your lips without so much as swallowing the mixture first. Practically drooling and spitting into your mouth through the rough kiss. It feels like your drowning, kissing him back like you’ve always wanted to, tasting him in a new way now and moaning into it.
Like a slut, really. Just fucking moaning. And he only forces more out of you too, as you feel him adjust his hands, holding you here on his lap, rough tongue bleeding against yours, sliding two fingers into you with one push.
God, finally. Fucking, finally.
Your mouth falls open in a sharp inhale of feeling his fingers, his lips turning to a smirk at hearing one of his friends audibly moan at the image on screen for them. You just showed how much of his saliva you were savoring, diluted red in the drool dripping down your chin through your moan.
You’re dirty, all four of them can see that much. But only Heeseung gets to feel it.
His cock throbs at the image when he strains his eyes to the screen, plunging his fingers in, out, in, out, until he pulls them from you entirely, thrusting them into your open mouth instead.
You squeal at the intrusion of his sudden fingers against your tongue, offering a third taste in your mouth. Yourself.
“Mhm,” Heeseung encourages you. “Suck it up like you did for me the other day.”
You hear Jake gasp at the idea that you’ve already done this for Heeseung before, probably leading him to believe that Heeseung has also probably already fucked you.
And hell, with how it’s looking, none of them would be shocked if that were the case.
“You’ve been doing this while talking to us?” Jake tries to confirm with you through a breathed sigh, groaning and unintentionally showing that he…wouldn’t mind.
“God, I don’t even want to fuck you now.” Sunghoon on the other hand, isn’t so willing and lies, absolutely wanting to be the person fucking your lips with his fingers. “After Heeseung? Disgusting.”
Oh, they think he’s fucked you already?
You shoot your eyes open, trying to shake your head in a “no” at them but still suckling around his fingers.
“Goddamn,” Heeseung grunts, rutting up against your back, letting his cock leave leaking little spots of his precum against your lower back. “Your sister would never act like this.”
“You should be ashamed, but you love it.” He continues, talking, talking, talking. Shoving his fingers deeper, deeper, deeper. “Work that tongue like a good girl.” He continues to whisper from behind you before–
You’re gagging. Feeling his fingers reach deep into your throat and press your tongue down to the point you’re forced to open your mouth wide. Exposing not only your finger-fucked pussy to his friends, but now your open and constricting throat.
Sunghoon immediately regrets his insult at you, seeing how wide and open your throat can be. Gagging openly with very little sound as Heeseung compresses your tongue through it.
You’re drooling again, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if you could possibly find a way to drink away your tears.
That’s about as much as Jay can take, gripping the base of his weeping length, willing it to stop threatening him with an orgasm before Heeseung really gets you looking pretty. He chokes up through the mic, and the sound runs straight through your body.
There, he watches you moan through an open and dry mouth, throat muscles tensing just to get the sound out. He grips harder, needing to pull his eyes away but struggling so hard to fucking do.
“Shit, baby. Stop.” Jay calls through the microphone, forcing his friends eyes on him, yours included, as all of you watch him vibrate in his seat in an attempt not to cum. “Stop moaning.”
Heeseung hears him say it, and intentionally gags you again instead. Bumping his fingers at the back of your throat with a smile on his face. Glancing between all of his friends, seeing how pathetic they are for what he does to you.
The fact that they’re sticking around at all? Both great and fucking embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than you.
Then Heeseung focuses back on you, tears running down your pretty cheeks, mouth agape, throat struggling to adjust still to his fingers despite taking his cock like that’s the only shape or size it wanted.
Ah, your body is so pathetically telling, and he grants you the release of another gag by sliding his fingers out of your mouth and straight back to your warm, pulsing, hole.
Right back in, one hole filled at all times it seems, as he feeds into the whiplash he’s able to give you. You didn’t even notice how he shoves you off of his lap until you can no longer see the screen in front of you and are face to face with his keyboard. No frustrated face of Jay, no forced calm and collected expression from Sunghoon, no blatantly bitten lips of Jake.
No, only the feeling of Heeseung chasing your hole with his fingers, your hips running from the touch due to sensitivity and buckled knees. He holds you there against his desk, standing behind you and pressing his cock between your ass cheeks. Fingers roughly rubbing your clit, sliding down to fuck into you, then out again to rub you harder.
His friends watch you try to run your lower half away from him, but his eyes stay glued to the camera, as if he’s staring into the soul of his friends.
“You guys wanna see me fuck her?” He comments in a sly tone, cock grinding against you. “I can fuck her.”
“Ah, Hee–” You groan as a response, listening to the slapping of palms against cocks only grow more furious and finally relaxing your body to now search for his fingers, just to push yourself back on them. “Please.”
He snickers from behind you, grabbing a hand full of hair at the back of your head as he rips his fingers from your needy hole, wiping them along your cheek as he forces you to look at him.
“Again.” He demands, now pinching your cheeks with one hand, arching your back more by the pull of your hair. “Say, “Please, Seungie, fuck me.” He whispers into your mouth, loud enough for the mic to pick up the way you swallow around his words.
“Say, “Please, Hee, give it to me.” He continues, making his voice higher pitched as if to mock your moans.
Sunghoon watches and listens in shock, never once wanting to know that this is how his own friend fucks someone, but goddamn. It’s like he’s just found the video on page 86 of pornhub that hit just right as he watches. Fucking up and into his fist like his life depends on it, waiting, waiting, waiting, for you to moan out just like Heeseung is telling you to.
And it’s the fact that you fucking do, Heeseung watching the way Jake presses his entire body into his chair, staring down at himself with a fast moving palm, so fast that he can see his friend lose himself to the pleasure.
Jay, near tears in his eyes as he watches, probably moaning in your ear like a mad man right now.
You fucking say it.
You say both, moaning in a choked gasp when you feel him stick his tip in you at it.
“Please–” You hiccup as you try to repeat the words again and again for him. “God, yes.” You rasp out in a deeper tone at the feeling of him slide in.
And he keeps sliding in, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes back when he bottoms out and feels your cunt clench him as if you’ll never let it go.
And then, one quick thrust, holding your hair in his hands, arching you harder, his other hand reaching for yours and holding them behind your back, he fucks forward.
Your tits bounce with the movement, neck strained to keep your eye on his face as you try to adjust to the full size of him entering you.
“She just takes it.” Heeseung grunts with a choked breath. “Shit, so goddamn tight.” He murmers again, nearly unable to stand on his own two feet how tight you are.
He forces you to look at him through it, squeezing your hands together so tightly through it that you can barely focus on the pain of your positioned body against the feeling of his cock splitting you open with each hard thrust.
And then, you let out the most filthy, wet, pornographic cry.
Heeseung then brings his attention to his monitor one last time, watching the pathetic mess of people in front of him getting off entirely on his cock driving into you.
“I win.” He says with one pointed thrust, keeping his hips pressed against your ass and only pressing in harder, trying to reach another inch in, trying to break past whatever wall inside of you keeps him from impaling you entirely on him.
All three friends burst into a feeling of realization, Jake already mid orgasm at the sound of that moan you just cried out–
Then theres….nothin but the feeling of Heeseung releasing your hands and allowing you to grip his desk through this deep hold of his length inside of you.
Suddenly, no sound through the headset, the light of the monitor in your peripheral vision goes off, and Heeseung is breaking his demeanor just to moan out in full again.
“Drove them crazy,” He chuckles through a wet groan, now snapping his hips back and leaning forward just to push back into you, deeper, deeper, until his desk ruts against the wall with the tight hold on you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He whispers, holding his open lips right against your neck when he hunches over in this paused thrust.
“You looked so good.” He says again, suddenly praising you, suddenly able to relish in the pleasure he’s giving you rather than pretending it does nothing for him.
You blink away tears, feeling your twisted and turned body, still trying to look at him through this even if he’s released your hands.
He can see that look of realization on your face and smiles at that too before shooting his hands to your middle and forcing you back and against him.
He keeps his dick in you, too obsessed with the drag your walls offer to him, and holds you against him just to shift to the side and press you back on the misplaced couch in the room. Man cave stuff, and alla that.
You watch him guide you face first into the cushions before he is grabbing your hands again, holding them right back in pace behind your back with one hand, and the other pushing your face even further into the pillows.
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” He grunts, slamming into you again, eyes glued to the way your body strains to accommodate the position he wants you in. “How much better you are?”
Oh. Really now?
You smile through suffocated breaths, the fabric of the couch invading the taste of your own breath and forcing you to love it just as much. You bite down, listening to his spilling words.
“Begging me like that for my friends to hear, like you didn’t know I wanted to do this?” He continues, burying himself deep again and holding it there again. “Fucking my pillow instead of me.”
He seems a little more angry now.
“Turning my friends on when you wanted me,” He grabs your hair again, pulling you back into that same painful arch and forcing you to stare up at the wall. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, I would’ve given it to you every time.”
The reality that this is not your boyfriend is so far from you right now. The fact that your sister is working away right now to pay the light bill, gonna come home later and share a bed with this man? You’re not even jealous.
In fact? You’re on top of the world listening to him want you more.
And at this point, Heeseung can tell you’re smiling, looking blankly at the wall and totally lost from this world. This is exactly what he wanted.
Such a pretty little sister, winning him over the bitch that won’t even choke on his cock? It could have been so much easier for you. But this was fun for him, watching you want him and know you couldn’t have him.
Despite him proving that you could have had him any day of the week.
“All you had to do was ask.” He repeats into your ear, now slowing his pace until he pulls out.
He takes a step back, gazing at the way your open pussy still clenches for him, the way your ass shakes slightly with your legs.
“Aww,” He coos, blinking at you from behind and reaching forward to flip you over. “You wanted it so bad too, can’t believe you waited.”
You see him now, fully in person rather than through the image on his monitor. His skin looks so much more full of life, cheeks tinted and hair more fucked up than you’ve ever seen it. Cock huge, weighed against his leg.
You’re shocked you took all of it like that previously, unable to relish in the pain of it because your senses were overloaded with moans and his own boasting.
“Your sister doesn’t have to know.” He says now, eyes trailing your body.
“Ah–” You wince when he licks his fingers and lowers his hand to your clit, one hand spreading your legs out now that he’s got you on your back. “I really didn’t know.”
Heeseung chuckles, finding you entirely too cute and endearing as you look up at him with those fucked out lips trying not to quiver at your sensitivity.
“You were too dumb to take a hint.” He leans forward, now, using his hand to lift your leg up to your chest, rubbing his cock right against your hole as he pulls his other hand up now, propping up your other leg. “Too stubborn to realize.”
You nod in a slightly broken way, unsure of if you were the one putting yourself through torture, or if you really were too dumb to notice he was trying to get you to go insane for him.
He wanted you to jump on him. He wanted you to take it like this.
“And you won’t tell her?” You whisper now, losing the ability to think much more when he grinds himself down, keeping eye contact with you, that same smirk you both hated and loved.
He shakes his head at you, almost sweetly when he adjusts his cock to slide in again, knocking the breath out of you with a choked moan.
“She won’t find out if you can be quiet when she’s home.”
Oh fucking no. He wants to…continue this? This isn’t a one time thing? He’s going to try while she’s home? While she’s gone? Arguably, you’re fucking glad.
“When she’s–?” You try to question, stopping short when he bottoms out in a groan, breathing in through his nose before lending you a tight, short thrust.
“Mm, yeah, I’m gonna be in you every day.” He moans, thinking about the image alone of sneaking into your room while his girlfriend is fast asleep.
Fucking you in his bed. In your bed. On the shared couch. Everywhere. Everyday.
“God, she’d hate us both.” He chuckles through the same moans he can’t stop from spilling out of his throat. “Finding out I’m so deep, so raw like this.”
Fuck. Right.
“Wait–” You come to realization, clenching from panic at the fact that a condom didn’t even come to mind. “Fuck, Hee, wait!”
He only presses harder now, smiling at how you’ve finally managed to come to your senses. Fucking you faster when you try to wiggle your hips away. Fucking you harder, pressing his entire body weight against the back of your thighs just to force you to stay in one place. Pussy open and spread out, clenching his cock so nicely.
“Gonna fuck you full,” He kisses your forehead with the horrifying words. “You’ll do it for me right? She won’t let me.”
Those words ring in your head. If she won’t let him, you sure as fuck will. You can deal with the consequences later. You no longer fight to pretend he’s not ramming your g-spot, forcing your voice to shake through a cry of his name.
“I’m not–” You choke out through cries, feeling your body tense up. “I’m not on birth co-”
“Fuckkkk, yes.” He rolls his eyes back at your half spoken words, losing it at the thought of dripping his seed into you and knowing he’s sterile enough to scare you both for good. “Take it,” He thumps his cock as far into you as he can, willing you to nod your head, willing you to love this as much as he does.
It’s the fact that you’re not trying to wiggle away now, he can feel your hole pulse at hit words, the way you want to be better than your sister, the way you’d truly let him.
Even more the fact that you’re not the one he should be shooting his seed into. It should be your sister, the woman who wants to marry him, the woman who said she simply wasn’t ready to bear his child. Not that you want to either, but goddamn do you want to be fucked full of the possibly, you say it yourself in a harsh grip around his neck, tugging at the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do it.” You whisper through hiccuped moans, his thrusts scooting you up and down on the couch at the sheer force of them.
“Yeah,” He nods his head, pressing harder against your legs as he chases the very high you’re asking him to give to you. “You want it?” He encourages you to keep telling him. He needs you to tell him.
You nod frantically, feeling your body tense up again, trying to reach your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Shockingly, that simply touch of your fingers sends you straight over edge, cumming so hard around his deep thrusts that you can barely hear him praise you through it with drawn out groans of “Ah, you’re squeezing me–” and “Just like that, I’m–”
His voice is clear though, when his hips stutter in place and he’s holding himself still. You can feel the pulse of him releasing into you through the last moments of your orgasm.
“Take it.” He moans. “Take all of it.” He continues, pulling out half way so that his cum drenches every part of your hole.
There, he uses his hand to milk the rest of it out of him, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the sensation of your own orgasm only slick up the inside of you more than he is, and then– he rams back in. Pushing his cum deep. So deep that you moan at the feeling, knowing the mess is dripping down your ass, and being shoved so far against your cervix that– Well. You panic.
Arguably, Heeseung should panic too, but he doesn't as he heaves in a deep and relieved sigh, sliding out of you once and for all.
He just looks at you, a mess on the office couch, pussy pumped full of him, swollen, still pulsing.
“Can I be honest?” He breathes out after running his hands through his sweaty hair, dropping them down with a slap to your now relaxed legs.
At your silence, he continues anyway. “You’ve never looked prettier than right now.”
And, well. You realize that with those words alone, selfish and self absorbed as you relish in them, you decide you don’t care that he’s just fucked you raw without a care in the world that he just cheated on the supposed love of his life. You both have won in this situation, and pregnancy isn’t such a scare anyway when he walks away a mere minute later and comes back with a fucking Plan-B pill.
You’re confused by it at first, popping it into your mouth and looking at him with raised brows.
“Why do you just have these?” You ask, still catching your breath.
“She takes one every time we have sex, even with a condom.” He rolls his eyes.
You smirk, noting how if there’s anything you do better than your sister…It’s fucking her boyfriend.
── synopsis: everyone on campus knows Heeseung’s rules — no commitments, no second chances, and no girl stays long enough to matter. As basketball captain he collects hearts like trophies and leaves them broken behind him without a second thought. You watch him from far away, knowing you should stay away, but you don't just want to be another name on his list. You want him to choose you and see only you. The problem is you're completely inexperienced, a virgin in every sense, while the girls around him know exactly how to move, how to flirt, and how to keep him hooked. So you make a plan: practice with other guys, learn the skills you're missing, and completely reinvent yourself to finally make Heeseung notice you — and choose you over everyone else.
warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni), popping cherry, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, panty gag, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary, doggy style, against the wall, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting on pussy, praise kink, light degradation, dirty talk, begging, edging, possessiveness, manhandling, public/risky sex (library + locker room), risk of getting caught, use of pet name (babe, doll, angel, baby, slut, good girl), mostly dom!members with a bit of dom!reader.
wc: 18k ┆ a/n: I know some of you are waiting for part 2 of teacher's pet, but I was just so excited to write this one that I decided to work on it first (the idea actually came to me while listening to drake's 'practice') this ended up being way longer than I expected, but anyway... I hope you guys like it. happy reading! (btw if you guys want to request any fics, my asks are open!)
Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.
He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.
Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.
He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.
You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.
Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.
The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.
You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.
"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.
So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.
You’re going to practice.
You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.
────────
You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.
With a deep breath, you knock on the door.
Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."
You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."
He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"
You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.
"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."
Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.
"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."
Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"
Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."
Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"
His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."
He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"
"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."
Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"
You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."
Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."
He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"
Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."
Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."
You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."
You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.
"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."
As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.
Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"
"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"
"Yes," you sigh.
"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."
With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.
Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.
"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."
You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.
"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."
You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.
"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.
"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.
Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.
"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.
For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"
You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."
He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."
You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.
"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."
Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"
"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.
He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."
When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.
Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.
"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.
"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.
"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."
With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.
Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."
You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."
He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.
The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.
"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.
You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.
He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."
You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."
Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."
You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."
One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."
You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.
His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."
Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."
"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."
He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.
"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."
"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.
"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."
Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.
"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"
"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."
He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."
Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."
You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."
Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."
Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.
"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.
He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.
"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.
"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.
The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"
Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."
You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."
To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."
Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.
"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."
"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."
Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.
You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.
"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.
"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."
Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.
"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."
You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.
"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."
"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.
Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.
For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."
You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."
The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.
But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.
Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.
You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.
So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.
────────
That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.
You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.
The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.
That’s when you see him.
Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.
Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.
You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.
He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"
You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."
A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.
You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.
He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."
You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."
Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"
The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"
He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."
You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."
His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."
This is it — the next step.
You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.
The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.
"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"
"Maybe both."
Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.
You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."
He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."
His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.
You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."
Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.
"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.
He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."
Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.
You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.
His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"
Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."
Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.
"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"
You swallow hard and nod again.
"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."
"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."
He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."
You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.
His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."
Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.
"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."
You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."
You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.
His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."
Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.
"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."
You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.
"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."
You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."
Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.
"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."
You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.
"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"
You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.
With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.
Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."
You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.
"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."
He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.
"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."
The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"
You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."
A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."
Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.
"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.
You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.
"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."
He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.
"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.
Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."
Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.
"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."
He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"
"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.
With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.
You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.
"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."
You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.
He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."
Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.
One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."
His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.
Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"
"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."
He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."
You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."
His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.
Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.
Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."
────────
Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.
The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.
Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.
"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"
Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."
Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."
"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."
You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."
His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.
Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."
You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.
When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."
He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.
"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."
"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."
Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."
You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.
"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.
The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."
Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."
You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."
He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.
Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."
He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."
You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."
One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."
With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."
You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.
Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."
You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.
For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."
You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.
"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."
He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."
You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.
Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.
The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.
Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.
Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."
The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."
You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.
Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.
"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."
Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"
You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.
"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."
You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.
"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.
"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.
"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."
Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.
You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"
He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."
Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.
"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"
You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.
His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."
You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.
Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."
A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."
He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."
Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."
That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.
────────
The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.
When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.
A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.
More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.
When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."
You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."
Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"
There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."
If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."
"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"
"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."
Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."
His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."
He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."
He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.
Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.
Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.
He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.
He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.
"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.
Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.
He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.
Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.
Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.
Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."
He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."
You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.
You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.
It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.
"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.
The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.
Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.
Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.
He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.
Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"
You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.
Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"
Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.
Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.
Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.
You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."
"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.
He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."
"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."
He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.
"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.
"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."
You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.
"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."
You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.
You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."
With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."
The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.
Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.
After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."
You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."
Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"
────────
The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.
You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.
When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.
Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.
Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.
"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."
You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.
Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."
Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."
You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.
"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."
You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"
Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."
Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."
"Yeah… I’d like that."
Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.
Now it’s just you and Heeseung.
He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"
You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.
Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.
Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."
He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.
Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.
The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.
There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.
His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.
"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.
Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.
A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.
"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.
With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."
You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.
Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.
"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.
Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"
He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."
"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."
"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."
That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."
He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."
He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.
"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.
When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."
It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.
With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.
You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."
Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."
His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.
Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"
You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.
It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.
You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."
Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.
Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."
You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.
His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.
When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.
"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."
You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.
He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.
The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.
He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"
"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."
He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.
Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.
When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."
Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.
Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."
You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."
He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."
You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."
Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.
On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."
"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."
Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.
Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.
Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.
Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.
Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.
"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."
You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."
You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.
"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"
Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."
So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.
You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.
'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."
Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."
You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."
Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."
You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."
The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."
Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.
You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.
"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."
────────
Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.
You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.
Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."
You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."
"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."
"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.
You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.
Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.
In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"
You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."
Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."
"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."
Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.
The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.
"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."
You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.
"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."
He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.
When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.
"What the fuck were you doing in there?"
You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.
"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."
You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.
During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.
Heeseung:
I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.
Come over.
Baby, answer me.
I know you’re getting these.
Don’t play games with me.
Stop fucking ignoring me.
Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."
He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.
────────
You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.
And you realize you want that freedom too.
Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3
Fortunately, you got the best, filthiest fuck of your life with your boyfriend’s friends. Unfortunately, Sunghoon doesn’t tolerate sneaky sluts. ─── In which Sunghoon's dick does all the disciplining :)
content tags/warnings: cheating, vouyerism (video), mention of double penetration, sunghoon smokes, jayke cameo, slut shaming, objectification, nymphomania implications. uhm. angst at the end? explicit content (smut): revenge unprotected sex, spitting, slapping, headlocking, throat fucking, mild pussy eating, squirting, power imbalance, creampie, dub conish. MDNI. WC: 5.4K
“Ahh—fuck! Harder! Want it harder! Please, please, please!”
Sunghoon sat low on the sofa, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. His other hand clutched the phone tightly, knuckles slightly white around the edges. His gaze was fixed, unmoving, pupils dilated.
He took a long, deliberate drag from his vape. Smoke filled his lungs, a bitter warmth crawling up his throat as he leaned his head back and exhaled slowly toward the ceiling, watching the vapor curling at the air.
His jaw tightened, thumb hovering, he paused the video at just the right moment: your mouth stretched open, eyes glazed and hungry. Jay was buried deep inside you, and you were still trying to force Jake’s cock past your lips like you couldn’t get enough.
Sunghoon should’ve known better than to trust a fucking slut like you.
He let the video play, it was torture, but he didn’t stop. He watched—watched you, his girlfriend, on your hands and knees, getting railed back and forth by the two people he called "friends".
Every sound bled through the speaker: your squeals, your moans, the choked-out begs between thrusts. You sounded wrecked, gone, cockdrunk out of your mind.
“Jay, man, take a video of me too,” Jake muttered.
The camera shook as it switched angles. Sunghoon blinked slowly. You yelped when Jake pushed into you from behind, face buried into a pillow, your ass bouncing from the impact. His grip clamped tight around your waist, dragging you into every thrust.
Jake bit his lip, one hand locking on your hip as he slammed into you harder. When he noticed the camera again, he flashed a quick grin, threw up a lazy west side sign, and laughed, right before burying himself even deeper.
Sunghoon didn’t realize his hand had moved until the sound of shattering glass snapped through the room. His phone hit the wall hard and fell to the floor in pieces.
He stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on the broken fragments scattered across the floor. His pulse throbbed in his ears, Fuck his friends. Fuck everything. And fuck you for letting them touch you. For letting them use you like that. Was his dick not enough? Was his attention not enough? You couldn’t stop at one—you had to take both of them?
His hands curled into fists at his sides. Heat crawled up his neck, his fingers trembled at rage, disbelief, something else he didn’t want to name. And God—fuck him, for the way his cock throbbed through it all.
—
“Baby! Miss you, miss you, miss you so much! How was your trip?”
Your voice spilled out with that same sugary tone you always used. You threw your arms around his neck, clinging tight, lips grazing his cheek, trailing up to his jaw, then to his mouth, like you had no idea what you’d done. Like you hadn’t fucked two of his friends like the filthy little cum-soaked toy you were.
Sunghoon stood still.
Not because he didn’t feel anything—but because he felt too much. Anger sat thick behind his ribs, it made his skin itch. Made his muscles tighten. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His jaw locked as he stared past you, eyes locked on the clock ticking against the wall. Each second felt louder than your voice. Each tick reminded him to hold the line.
Your perfume clung to him, so sweet that it made him fucking sick.
God, you really had the audacity. Clinging to him like you missed him. As if those bruises on your hips weren’t from someone else’s hands. As if your throat hadn’t been used just days ago while he was away.
Pathetic.
That’s all he could think. You were pathetic.
A lying, moaning, desperate little slut who’d do anything for attention. Spread your legs for the first hand that touched you, then crawl back to him with that same fake innocence in your eyes. How many times had he fallen for it? How many times had you smiled up at him with those soft lips, pretending to be his and his alone?
He almost laughed again.
“Did you miss me?” you whispered against his ear, voice sweet like sugar melting over rot. You didn’t even know what you’d walked into.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
You beamed at him. He smiled back, just enough to keep the game going. Just enough to keep his hands from wrapping around your throat.
You didn’t deserve anger, not the full weight of it. You didn’t deserve to be screamed at or broken down. No. You deserved to be seen for exactly what you were and stripped of the illusion you wore so well.
That’s why Sunghoon was quiet now, laid back against the headboard, watching you beautifully ride his dick.
You rode him with that same practiced rhythm, hips rising and falling, skin gleaming with sweat. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers curling against his skin as you moaned his name.
“Ahh! Hoonie!” you gasped, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut.
Sunghoon eyebrow twitch at the way your pussy clings to his dick. His jaw slackened, eyes traveling from the way your breasts bounced with every grind, down to where your slick folds swallowed his cock, again and again.
His grip on your waist tighten, He wondered if you even knew you were showing him your tells. The little things—how your hands trembled slightly, how your moans pitched too perfectly, how your eyes kept darting open to check his face when you thought he wasn’t looking.
Guilt, maybe. Or fear. Or just the habit of someone used to performing for an audience.
He let his thumb slide along your waist. “You’re working hard tonight,” he said finally, “trying to earn something?”
You froze for half a second. Then gave a breathy laugh, hips rolling again. You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed that spot deep inside you, the one that made your thighs shake.
Sunghoon leaned in close, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Keep going,” he whispered. “I want to see how far you’ll go pretending like you haven’t fucked any man behind my back.”
Your breath caught hard in your throat. Eyes shot open, wide, startled—exposed. Panic spilled into your face faster than you could mask it. You looked to the side, slowly, like maybe you’d misheard, like maybe he hadn’t just said what he said.
Sunghoon sat back slightly, his eyes fixed on yours, that smirk on his face was evident and it wasn't playful, it was cruel.
You scrambled instinctively, trying to lift yourself off him, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear your own breath.
Sunghoon hands clamped around your waist. In one swift, punishing motion, he dragged you back down onto his cock, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. You let out a sharp squeal, a breathy cry of surprise as your walls clenched around him. Your hands braced against his chest, legs trembling around his hips.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “You were doing so well.”
He began to thrust up into you, deep, grinding against that spot that made your body betray you. You couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes fluttered shut even as shame colored your face.
“S-Sunghoon…”
“Shhh, baby,” Sunghoon whispered, almost gentle. A sick mockery of comfort. His hand slid up your thigh, then curled around your waist again. “Just ride it out. You’re so good at it.”
He smiled up at you hazy. Enjoyment, yes, but laced with contempt.
“You fucked them like this too?” he asked softly “Bounced on their cocks just like this?” His eyes dragged over your body, taking in the way your tits moved with every thrust, the way your mouth opened like you couldn’t breathe. “Moaned their names the way you moan mine?”
You whimpered, trying to press against his chest, to pull back but the moment your hips lifted, he slammed back up into you sharply. You cried out, your hands trembling where they pressed against him.
“Oh? What’s wrong?” he breathed, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you from moving. “It was easy when it was Jay, right? When it was Jake choking you on his cock. You didn’t stop them.”
He fucked up into you harder now, each thrust punishing. “But now you’re shy? Now you can’t take it?”
His other hand moved between your legs, thumb brushing your clit, with just enough pressure to send your body jolting. A cry left your throat, your hips twitched instinctively, confused between pulling away and pushing closer.
Sunghoon watched every reaction. His smile widened when your head dropped forward, shoulders shaking, your entire body caught in the unbearable space between pleasure and shame.
You whimpered, a sound choked with emotion—humiliation, arousal, panic. Everything at once. Your thoughts scattered, dizzy, your chest heaving as tears welled in your eyes threatening to fall.
“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Sunghoon murmured. “On my cock. After spreading your legs for my friends like a filthy, greedy little thing—you’re still going to fall apart for me.”
His thrusts didn’t stop. He kept you pinned, grinding deep inside you, thumb flicking against your swollen clit.
“You are a slut, aren’t you?” he breathed. “Mine or not—you were made for this. Made to take cock. Any cock. As long as it fills you up.”
Your body jerked as a sob hitched in your throat, but before you could look away, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.
His eyes were on fire. Cold rage underneath that made you whimper in fear. “Look me in the eyes,” he said. “I want to see what’s left. What’s left of your fucking dignity when I make you cum on the cock you were supposed to stay loyal to.”
You trembled under his gaze, lips parting, chest stuttering for breath as his thumb circled harder, relentless, synced with each thrust.
Your orgasm built fast, twisted in shame. You couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from your throat as your walls fluttered violently around his cock.
“S-sorry… I—I am… I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice breaking as your orgasm dragged through you. Your body was shaking, overwhelmed, your skin burning with the heat.
Your head felt light as if you might float away if not for the solid grip of his hands anchoring you to him. He was still thrusting into you, slower now, but just as deep—riding your high, using your own climax as fuel to fuck you further into submission.
“Sorry?” Sunghoon echoed, a dark, breathless laugh curling from his throat. “That’s it?”
You choked on another moan, trying to pull away, but he held you tight, one hand still in your hair, the other sliding to your throat again keeping you in place like a doll.
“That’s your apology? You cum on my cock like a fucking whore and think sorry makes it better?”
He tilted his head, eyes locked on your tear-streaked face. “You begged them too, didn’t you?” he continued, “Bet you moaned for Jay just like that. Bet you looked up at Jake with those same cute innocent eyes."
He thrust up harder, forcing a strangled moan from your throat, and you hated that it felt good.
“That’s what makes you sorry?” he hissed. “Not the cheating. Not the lies. Not the way you spread your legs the second I was gone. No—you’re sorry because I found out.”
Your lips parted to deny it, but nothing came. Just another whimper, another shaky breath.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say what you are.”
You blinked at him, glassy-eyed, barely able to think past the ache between your legs, the fog in your brain.
Sunghoon’s hand came down hard across your breast, the sharp smack echoing through the room. You cried out, gasping as your back arching from the sting, skin blooming with heat where his palm landed.
“Say it.”
“I’m a slut,” you whispered, eyes shutting tight.
He didn’t move right away. Just sat beneath you, cock still buried deep, like a man in complete control. Then he leaned in, face close, his lips brushing your ear. “What?” he murmured. “Louder.”
You hesitated, swallowing the shame thick in your throat.
“I—” your voice caught, but his grip on your waist tightened, and he gave one slow, grinding thrust up into you that made your stomach clench and your throat tighten.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he said, each word coiled with threat.
“I’m a slut,” you said louder this time, voice shaking.
He chuckled, he brought both hands down hard on your ass, your body jolting forward instinctively. “Now ride it, bitch,” he said flatly.
He laid back, arms folding behind his head, eyes locked on you. You sobbed softly, body trembling, tears dripping from your chin. Your legs felt like they were giving out beneath you, but you moved, slowly, awkwardly, lifting your hips and sinking back down onto his cock. You whimpered from the stretch, your body clenching in protest.
It wasn’t pleasure anymore. Not really.
Your slick had dried, leaving just the raw friction of swollen flesh and too much use. Each downward push made you flinch, made your breath hitch. But you moved anyway, grinding your hips weakly, trying to obey.
“Why are you crying?” Sunghoon muttered.
You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t even look at him. You kept your eyes down, throat tight, lips trembling as more tears rolled down your cheeks.
“After everything you did, you’ve got the fucking audacity to cry?”
You flinched, but kept moving, trying to hold yourself up as your knees wobbled.
“I make you cum—again—even after what you did, and this is what I get?” he sneered. “You ride me so fucking ugly. Limp, clumsy, pathetic."
You blinked through your tears, heart sinking deeper into your chest.
“This is how you repay me?” he continued. “Slutting around behind my back, then giving me this?” His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into sore flesh
You gasped, hands trembling where they braced against his chest.
“If you’re so sorry,” Sunghoon said flatly, “then show it. Stop running your filthy mouth. It’s disgusting.”
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Off,” he ordered. “This is getting fucking boring.”
Your breath caught, but you obeyed. Your legs shook as you slowly lifted yourself off of him, wincing from the rawness and the ache. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breath.
Sunghoon stepped off the bed, ignoring you entirely as he grabbed his vape from the nightstand. He took a long drag, smoke curled around his lips as he exhaled, head tilted slightly, eyes locked on you.
You stared at him, uncertain. His gaze didn’t soften, the moment your eyes met his, your stomach turned. That look—cold, disgusted, fully aware of your every weakness—made your skin crawl. You instinctively tried to cover your body with your arms, shrinking under the weight of it all.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Kneel.”
You hesitated.
“Kneel,” he repeated, slower, deadlier.
You dropped to your knees, the floor cool against your skin. Your palms settled on your thighs, head lowered, trying not to cry again.
He took another drag before stepping closer, towering over you. "You know what to do. Hmm?"
You nodded faintly, lips already parting as instinct took over. You leaned forward, pressing your mouth to the tip of his cock, licking slowly around the head, soft, tentative, almost apologetic.
Above you, Sunghoon sighed, his head tilting back slightly, mouth parting. His hand slid into your hair, fingers tangling at the roots. His hips rolled forward without warning, forcing more of him past your lips.
You choked softly but didn’t stop. You pressed your tongue along the underside, taking him deeper, your jaw stretching. Your eyes fluttered shut, tears slipping again.
You heard him breathe out again, pleased but quiet, watching the way you submitted—how your cheeks hollowed, how spit clung to your lips and chin.
“Deeper,” he muttered. “Don’t make me do all the work.”
You moved, slow but desperate to please, sucking him in until your lips touched the base, your nose brushing his skin. Your throat tightened, gagging softly, but you held him there, swallowing around him. Your hands instinctively gripped his thighs, nails pressing into the skin as you tried to steady yourself through the strain in your jaw and the tightness in your throat.
“Keep your hands off me.”
Sunghoon’s voice cut through. You froze, then slowly let your hands fall, resting them on your own thighs instead. The position made you feel even smaller, more exposed. Forced to hold yourself steady without any support, you sank deeper into the reality of what this was.
He didn’t look down at you with affection. There was no care in his touch, no softness in his grip. He simply pushed your head forward again, guiding you down until you were swallowing him whole.
Even with the heat in your cheeks, even as tears lined your lashes and your chest tightened with shame, you felt the ache between your legs.
The growing slickness, the way your pussy clenching with each shallow breath you took.
You hated how the humiliation bled into arousal, how the sting of his words and the weight of his control made your body want.
You sucked him deeper, every wet glide of your tongue along the underside of his shaft made your own thighs press together. Your slick coated your folds.
Sunghoon’s fingers tightened in your hair again, holding your head still as he began to thrust slowly into your mouth, using you at his pace.
“Ahh—fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, head falling back as the pleasure surged low in his gut. His stomach tightened, breath ragged. He bit down on his bottom lip, then forced his gaze back down.
There you were—eyes wide, teary, locked on him.
Your lips stretched around his cock, spit dripping down your chin, but your gaze didn’t falter. Those wide, innocent eyes. That soft expression. The contradiction of it all. His thighs tensed, another shaky breath escaping him—half sigh, half moan.
God, you looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Perfect in a way that made his chest ache. You were beautiful—painfully so. Beautiful in your face, your mouth, your movements. Beautiful in how you took him, how your tongue still moved even when your jaw had to hurt, how you kept trying to please him no matter how much you were falling apart.
It infuriated him.
You were so beautiful, it made him angry.
Sunghoon took a long drag from his vape, chest rising slowly as the heat burned in his lungs. The smoke curled in his throat while his other hand tightened in your hair, and he began to move faster.
Your whines were muffled around his cock as you struggled to take him, the slick, wet gagging sounds filling the room. He exhaled the smoke in a slow stream, the haze rising as his head fell back, a groan tearing from his chest.
The pleasure was overwhelming. Your mouth, your heat, the way your throat tightened around him—it all crashed into him at once. Every sound you made echoed through his body, feeding every lust on his brainstream.
His muscles tensed, jaw clenched, hips grinding forward again and again, chasing that high while watching you choke on him.
Painfully perfect.
Sunghoon took a drag from his vape again, his other hand gripped the back of your head, and without warning, he pushed you down until your nose pressed to his skin.
His hips stilled. He let out a long, guttural moan as he came, the pleasure crashing through him in heavy waves. Warmth spilled into your throat, his breath caught in his chest, and the smoke slipped out around his lips before it ever reached his lungs—lost in the force of the moment.
His stomach flexed, fingers tightening in your hair as he held you there, making sure you swallowed everything.
“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving.
The room fell quiet for a moment, just the sound of his breath, the faint hiss of the vape in his hand, and your muffled gasp as he finally let you go.
You pulled back slowly, coughing once, spit trailing from your lips as you caught your breath, face flushed and soaked, lips swollen from use.
Sunghoon looked down at you—still high off the orgasm, but his gaze already sharpening again. “On the bed,” he said. “Lay on your back. Spread your legs.”
You hesitated for a moment, throat dry. Slowly, you stood, legs trembling beneath you. Your mouth opened as your voice cracked out. “L-Love…”
His expression shifted instantly. The glare he gave you made your breath catch, your body stiffen. “Who said you could talk?” he snapped. “I gave you an order. Lay down. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. The word stayed frozen on your tongue as you climbed onto the bed. You lay back slowly, your hands slid to your thighs, hesitating again until you saw him watching.
Without another word, you parted your legs, exposing yourself fully, the slick between your thighs sticking to your skin, making everything feel vulnerable.
Sunghoon stared down at you, his thoughts turned over themselves again, looping in quiet intensity.
You were pathetic. And somehow, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. That contradiction burned in him. You had the perfect face for submission. The perfect body for ruin. The perfect pussy.
Sunghoon climbed onto the bed slowly, knees sinking into the mattress as he settled between your legs. His eyes never left your face, watching every twitch, every breath. You gasped softly as his hands reached for you, fingers sliding along the inside of your thighs before spreading you wider with both hands.
His thumbs parted you carefully, deliberately, exposing the soft pink flesh that throbbed under his gaze.
Your chest rose and fell with short, anxious breaths. Heat flushed across your skin as his eyes moved lower, tracking every inch of you. He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over your slick entrance, close enough to make you twitch.
“Mine,” Sunghoon growled, the word thick with possession.
You moaned at just the sound of it—your body reacting before he even touched you.
His mouth found you, tongue dragged along your folds, swirling over your labia with deliberate pressure. The heat of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue—it sent a pulse straight through your core. Your hips jerked upward, instinctive, desperate for more.
"'Hoonie!"
His nose pressed against your clit as he pushed his face deeper into you, letting your thighs squeeze around his head. The rough drag of his tongue, the way he flicked it just beneath your clit before flattening it again—it made your eyes roll back, a breathless cry tumbling from your lips.
Sunghoon’s hands slid up your body, settling on either side of your breasts. He kneaded them with slow, heavy pressure, watching you from beneath his lashes, eyes half-lidded.
He flicked his tongue faster, lips locking around your clit, sucking it once. Then his fingers found your nipples, pinching them lightly between his thumbs and forefingers. Your back arched instantly, the sudden stimulation shooting straight through your chest.
You cried out, overwhelmed, hips grinding against his mouth, trying to chase more of that friction. His grip tightened.
He moaned low into your pussy, the vibration making your whole body jolt, heat surging across your skin as your walls fluttered in response.
You almost believed for a second that the Sunghoon you knew had returned.
It was the way he pressed soft kisses to your inner thigh after you came, the way his hands shifted you from position to position with steady control, the way he fucked you so deep and slow that your vision blurred. You saw stars. Again. And again.
But it wasn’t the same.
The Sunghoon you remembered didn’t talk like this. Didn’t whisper filth into your ear with each thrust. Didn’t slap your ass raw or choke you until your moans turned to broken gasps.
Still, you took it. You let him. Because deep down, you knew that you deserved it.
“Ahh—s-stop, p-please…”
You’d lost count of how many times you’d come, how many times he’d flipped you over, dragged you back, split you open on his cock without pause.
Maybe it was the frustration in him. Maybe it was the shame in your eyes. Maybe he liked how breakable you looked under him, how pliant your body had become, how you still clung to him with every breath. Something about that flipped a switch in him. Whatever restraint he had was long gone now.
And once that restraint broke, he discovered things.
He saw it clearly.
You were a slut in the most literal sense, a body that didn’t know when to stop. A mouth that begged him to slow down while your pussy clenched tighter the rougher he fucked you. You kept saying you needed a break, that it was too much but you bounced harder on his cock every time he called you a liar.
And he was learning fast. The more he overstimulated you, the more honest you became.
The shame turned into hunger. The cries turned into moans. And your begging… it was starting to sound less like desperation.
“More… more—please, g-give me… nghh, more!”
Sunghoon kept his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he drove into you from behind. His hips snapped against your ass, each thrust deeper than the last, his chest slick with sweat against your back.
He bit his lip hard, eyes dropping to watch your body unravel. Your head lolled forward, hair damp and clinging to your neck, mouth falling open with every jolt of his cock hitting deep.
He gritted his teeth, groaning low as your pussy clamped down hard around him, spasming again.
He didn’t miss the way your moans kept rising—louder, sloppier—your voice barely forming real words anymore, just needy sounds spilling from your throat.
Your whole body was trembling, overstimulated past reason. He hadn’t even touched your clit, and yet you came again, your walls fluttering around him as your ass rocked back into his hips, trying to keep him inside just a little longer, trying to stretch the pleasure further. Your mind was so far gone, he almost wondered if you even knew where you were.
High, like on him. On the way his cock punished you. The way he filled you over and over until you didn’t care what you looked like, what you sounded like, or how broken you were getting.
“More! More!” you squealed again, the pitch cracked.
Sunghoon clicked his tongue, his arm came up fast, locking around your neck, bicep flexed tight across your throat as he pulled you back into him.
You gasped, then moaned louder despite the pressure. Your hands shot up to his arm, nails digging into the muscle, but you didn’t try to stop him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled into your ear, hips pounding forward even harder. His cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside you with cruel precision, over and over again, and you squeezed him so tight he nearly saw white.
“Fucking hell,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna milk me dry like this.”
You whimpered something, eyes rolling again, mouth slack, tears mixing with sweat down your cheeks.
Sunghoon realized he could keep going for hours, and you’d never stop asking for more.
“Gonna cum, g-gonna cum!”
Sunghoon’s arms locked around you tighter, dragging your body down as he shifted his weight over you, pressing your chest into the mattress. His full weight settled on top of you, forcing your legs wider, holding you down. Your breath hitched. Vision blurred. The pressure in your core spiked as your stomach tensed, nerves screaming from the inside out.
And then it hit.
The orgasm ripped through you, your back arched beneath him, toes curling, fingers clawing at the sheets. You tried to scream, tried to say something—but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. The air caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat. Every nerve in your body burned.
Your pussy clenched so tightly around him, it was unbearable. He didn’t stop.
“Ahhh—fuck!”
A rush of liquid spilled out of you, your body jerking, forcing his cock to slip halfway free. But Sunghoon growled under his breath and drove back in, ignoring how your walls convulsed violently around him, squeezing him too hard to be comfortable.
You tapped his arm, again, again, frantic, but he didn’t slow.
He kept thrusting, rough and deep, chasing his own high. His moans got louder, breath ragged against the back of your neck, hips slamming into you with a rhythm that felt merciless.
Drool slipped from your parted lips, dripping to the sheets beneath you as your body went limp beneath him. You tried to form words, to beg, but your voice came out broken, slurred.
“H-hurt…”
Sunghoon paused only for a second, but then he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, grabbing your hips and lifting them higher, changing the angle. His thrusts became faster, more direct, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room.
You gasped, eyes wide and unfocused, body jerking with every motion. Your body trembled under him, your legs shook, unable to hold form, collapsing slightly with each heavy snap of his hips.
Sunghoon gripped your waist harder, knuckles pale, holding you steady as he fucked deeper.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he moaned. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even remember their names.”
Your eyes rolled back, vision going white at the edges. The ringing in your ears drowned out everything but the heavy beat of your pulse.
Until you felt the sharp grunt against your skin. The way his cock throbbed as warmth spilled inside you. His whole body trembled, every muscle locked tight. His grip on your throat and waist tightened with that final release, pouring everything into you—rage, frustration, need—all of it buried inside you.
You swore you almost blacked out.
Your body went limp the second he let go of your neck. His cock slipped out of you, overstimulated and leaking, and without warning, he flipped you onto your back. You landed against the mattress roughly, arms falling open—one near your head, the other across your stomach, completely drained.
Your skin was pale, cold in some places, burning in others. Your chest rose and fell in shaky, uneven breaths. Eyes unfocused and drifting.
Sunghoon stood over you, chest heaving, his body shining with sweat. The bedsheet beneath you was soaked between the sweat, the slick, the mess of it all, everything was drenched.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, jaw tight. His eyes dropped to your pussy still twitching, so red, his cum starting to leak out, pooling beneath you.
Still riding the edge of his rage, he leaned forward and spat right onto your stomach. The wet splatter hit your skin, sliding down over the curve of your hip.
A single tear slipped from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t flinch. You just laid there, still and open, chest rising in shallow, erratic breaths.
Sunghoon stepped back, reaching for his vape, fingers trembling slightly. He took a long drag, turning away as smoke filled his lungs. His jaw stayed clenched, shoulders tight as he tried to center himself.
“N-need… m-more cock…”
He froze. Slowly, he turned, eyes narrowing.
You hadn’t moved. Still flat on your back, limbs slack, eyes unfocused. But the tears kept coming, streaming quietly down the sides of your face. Your lips were curved into a strange, hazy smile.
“Want… more…” you breathed.
Without thinking, Sunghoon moved back to you. His vape clattered onto the nightstand as he dropped to the bed, hands gripping your waist. He pulled you into him, cradling your body, his chest pressing to yours. His arms wrapped around you tightly.
You kept whispering soft, broken words that made no sense. Repeating yourself and pleading.
Your body twitched slightly, your hips shifting even now, instinctively seeking more.
Sunghoon just held you tighter, burying his face into your neck and breathing in your scent, grounding himself in your warmth and in the truth of what you were.
jay probably shouldn't have introduced you, his girlfriend to his teammates─especially sunghoon, if he'd know sunghoon would be the one to pop your cherry jay thought was his by his patience alone.
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader ft. 박종성 𓊇 jessie is a friend. yeah, i know he's been a good friend of mine. jessie's got himself a girl. and i wanna make her mine, you know i wish that i had jessie's girl. i wish that i had jessie's girl. ─ jessie's girl, rick springfield ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 thank you 🐝 anony for the ask/request! (you're the first one, so you got it special mwa). i really, really love writing this and i hope i did it justice~ it's quite hard to write the buildup so i hope this doesn't feel rushed ♡ don't forget to comment and reblog! means more to me than you know.
word count 7.3k
content advisory emotional cheating + literal cheating, emotional manipulation, morally gray reader, slight manipulation, angst if you're park jongseong, guilt–themes, secrecy, possessive undertones, almost badboy!sunghoon + goodgirl!reader, sexual tension + flirting
smut advisory loss of virginity (reader), voyeur–adjacent tension, pussy fingering, squirting, handjob, reverse cowgirl, profanity, dirty talking, soft(?)dom!sunghoon, innocent!reader, slow corruption, nipple play, making out, saliva play
you love jay, truly—how could you not? when he's just so good at everything he does.
he walks you to class, buys two of everything so you can enjoy it at a later time, buys you flowers everytime… if the world could be bought with money, jay would place it in your palms wrapped in silk ribbon.
jay calls you angel, but you’re starting to want to be ruined instead.
“you’ll be fine!” you boyfriend said, a grin etched on his face as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. you let him, bottom lip puckering out slightly. “are you sure? i’m so nervous though,” you murmured, covering your face with your palms as you let out a muffled groan.
he always looked so annoyingly calm—while you felt ridiculously jittery. excitement twinned with dread twisting in your stomach. for the first time ever, you’re finally meeting his team. like all the eleven players. the famous football players. the ones everyone gravitated toward on campus…
those loud, tall, shining, charming boys who slapped backs and laughed with their chests.
jay pried your hands down gently, holding them in his. “they’ll love you,” he said, so certain it almost hurt. “you could walk in and say nothing the whole time and they’d still love you,” he continued with a hum, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “because my girlfriend is so lovable like that.”
because you were his. that’s what he didn’t say, but you heard it.
you swallowed, lips pursing. “what if they don’t?”
“then that’s their problem,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead—soft, reverent, protective in that way that made your knees go weak. “you’re amazing, don’t worry.”
you exhaled, tension beginning to melt just a little—right as the restaurant door behind you swung open. a couple walked out, then the noise behind spilled out—laughter, shouts, someone joking.
jay nudged you forward gently. “perfect timing. c’mon.” giving your hand a playful squeeze, you let your boyfriend guide you inside. the restaurant hummed with various noises, the team’s voices rising from the back corner in chaos.
“jay–ah!” jake said, waving his hand so enthusiastically he might knock over a glass. “here!” your boyfriend laughed, lifting the other hand to wave back. “sorry, sorry, parking was insane.”
“excuses,” another boy chimed in, grinning. “who’s that?”
heat rushed to your cheeks immediately. jay’s arm slid around your waist, casual but proud. “this is my girlfriend,” he announced, gently guiding you towards an empty seat. “come on, let’s sit.”
before you could even think, he guided you to the nearest open space at the long table. you slid in, keeping your eyes down in what you hoped was a polite, sweet–girlfriend way instead of a terrified baby deer entering the forest.
jay took the seat on your right, the end of the table. he never lets you sit at the end. you took the seat on the right, pulling your chair closer under the table. his arm brushed yours as he sat, ensuring you’re comfortable.
the conversation quickly spilled around you, voices overlapping:
“coach made us run suicides again—”
“‘m going to skip weights this week,”
your boyfriend laughed, throwing an arm over the back of your chair as he engaged in the topic. you sipped the cold drink that’d been put in front of you, hands wrapped around the glass so you’d stop fidgeting.
it’s so awkward and so… out of place for you. you just sat there quietly, content to just listen. jay was in his elements, laughing with his dearest teammates, so full and bright and warm in a way you liked seeing.
a glass clinked near your left, and you glanced that way.
“hi,”
next to you, sunghoon leaned slightly in your direction—holding his drink loosely, fingers around the condensation–slick glass. he wasn’t loud like others—just listening as well, eyes flicking between his friends, lips curved slightly at every joke.
you gave a small, sweet polite smile back. “hi.”
it came out airy, barely above the hum of the table. not shy, just soft. sunghoon nodded once, almost gentle. he didn’t move his gaze away, no such thing as social rules of not staring at someone else’s girlfriend too long applied to him, not when said girlfriend is probably the prettiest little thing sunghoon has ever laid his eyes on.
he seemed calm. and yes—objectively very good–looking—the kind that would normally make you flustered (it worked) if you didn’t have a boyfriend.
“first time meeting the team?” he asked, voice steady and calm. you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before nodding. “yeah… jay’s been… talking about this for a while.”
sunghoon’s lips ticked up—into something of a slight smirk. “jay talks a lot about you too,” he said, low enough as if it’s meant to be for you. “i was starting to think he made you up. but i guess not, a girl like you does exist.”
you blinked, warmth pooling low in your stomach—jay’s name in someone else’s mouth, from the reality of just how much he must gush when you’re not there.
your breath caught in your throat—not because it was overly charming, but because it was so smooth. you blinked, barely managing a tiny laugh. “well… surprise.” you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek.
“lucky him,” he murmured, then lifted his glass slightly in a casual half–cheers gesture. “i’m sunghoon, by the way.”
“yn,” you placed your hand in his when he offered it, his palm warm against your cool ones, grip firm and brief. “nice to finally meet you,” you said, offering the sweetness you always have on.
“yeah,” sunghoon replied, giving your hand a light squeeze before he pulls away with a lingering heat, leaning back in his seat as he tapped the rim of his glass with his thumb, “the pleasure’s all mine.”
your boyfriend laughed beside you, nudging your knee under the table by accident. you looked away, warmth blooming in your cheeks as you leaned slightly towards jay, placing your hand on his thigh.
still, you could feel sunghoon’s gaze linger on you.
——
after that night, you went home warm with relief—jay’s team liked you, like he said, jay was happy, and you’d managed to get through dinner without spilling anything on yourself or make a fool.
just a few days later, a notification slid from the top of your screen. you’d just finished showering and sank into bed, getting comfortable to face another night.
p.sunghoon just followed you.
you blinked. once, twice—oh? you pursed your lips, thumb hovering stupidly over the screen for a moment. you weren’t sure if you remembered exchanging usernames—actually, you were positive you didn’t.
jay definitely didn’t mention giving it. he wasn’t the “here’s my girlfriend’s instagram” type; if anything he really tried to protect you from the eyes of men.
and yet… there it was. sunghoon’s follow notification.
“let me just stalk you…” you murmured, humming to yourself as you tapped on his profile. his display picture sharp even in the tiny circle—a mirror selfie of him in his white tank. his feed was curated—football, track pants, icy expressions, candid flashes.
everything about him just screamed he knew exactly how attractive he was without ever needing to try.
and fuck, he was.
before you could hit the follow button, another notification popped up. sunghoon had liked a picture of you from a couple months ago—the one where you were visiting the alpaca world in gangwon.
then another—a summer picture of you and your friends, wearing a bikini top underneath sheer cardigan, and a pair of shorts.
a quiet instinctive oh sat low. he was stalking your instagram, the same time you were stalking his.
you followed him back, tossing and turning on your back on the bed, getting ready to close the app. but before you could do so, sunghoon sent you a message.
p.sunghoon: hey there
you cocked an eyebrow at the message, fingers lingering above the keyboard.
yn.ln : hi
p.sunghoon: you showed up in my suggested by the way
p.sunghoon: totally wasn’t searching you up or anything
you bit down a smile, his sarcasm threading clean through the screen—light warmth crawled up your neck despite every rational cell in your brain telling you stop that.
yn.ln : oh right that’s so believable
another bubble appeared almost immediately.
p.sunghoon: you gotta trust me.
p.sunghoon: but i guess i got lucky too
yn.ln : how so?
a second, then two passed—before the bubbles appeared again.
p.sunghoon: i got to talk to you, didn’t i?
your heart skipped in your chest. not romantic, not sweeping, not anything that should matter… but awareness that this felt wrong, and to an extent it probably was wrong—but it’s not like the two of you were doing anything aside from talking, right?
your fingertips hovered above your keyboard, stomach pulling tight. dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you thought of a reply that could come off as neutral.
yn.ln: you give me too much credit lol
p.sunghoon: guess so.
p. sunghoon: coming to heeseung’s party tmrw?
p.sunghoon: heeseung is the guy in jersey num 01 btw
you pursed your lips, sucking the inside of your cheek as you stared at the messages. a party… jay hadn’t mentioned it yet—but jay would want you there. his girlfriend, on his arm, at his friend’s party.
yn.ln: ohh i remember himm.
yn.ln: i’ll ask jay!! wld be awkward going without someone i know
you rolled on your stomach, legs swinging in the air.
p.sunghoon: well we can get to know each other
p.sunghoon: then i can be the other person you know
you chuckled softly, tapping your index on your lips before replying,
yn.ln: let’s see :p
then, you tossed your phone onto the pillow, buried your face, and groaned into the sheets—a muffled, frustrated sound because this felt messy already and you hadn’t even done anything bad.
rolling over for the nth time of the night, you hugged your pillow and stared at the ceiling again, breathing out slowly like maybe if you exhaled long enough, you could convince yourself that this wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it inside your head.
later, just before bed, you’d ask jay about the party. you’d go with him, hold his hand, stay close, and be good—and be there because you wanted to know the people in jay’s life.
totally not because someone had asked you first.
——
the music thumped—deep, heavy bass vibrated through the walls, the floor, your ribs. coloured lights strobed across a sea of bodies, cups raised, laughter spilling louder everywhere you went.
jay’s hand was warm at your lower back as you stepped inside. he’d kissed your temple before you walked in and said, "you're so perfect. gosh, can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” in that sweet, earnest way that always made your heart skipped joyfully.
“come, let’s greet heeseung first,” jay leaned in, murmuring in your ear as he guided you towards the living room—where most boys (and girls) were gathered. you nodded, letting yourself melt into his side as he steered you through the crowd—arm instinctively looping around his middle, the clean scent of his cologne filling up your nose.
the living room was alive—boys yelling over some game, girls cheering, people dancing and swaying at the sides. jay fit into it all effortlessly—but in a good way, so easy and loved and respected.
and you were right there next to him, jay’s pretty, smart, proper, lovely little girlfriend, tucked perfectly against him like you belonged—his world, afterall.
jay spotted heeseung across the room first. “ah, there he is,” his hand squeezed you waist softly. “ready?”
you nodded, jittering nervously.
and then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.
park sunghoon.
leaning against the arm of the couch, cup in hand, body half–turned to you—until you looked, and he instantly looked right back. as if he could sense your eyes on him.
sunghoon’s lip curled into a small smile, but he didn’t nod. just a flick of his gaze—deliberate—travelling from your kitten heels, up your bare legs, the curve of your hips and breasts, lingering at your neckline where you wore a necklace of your first initial, before meeting your eyes with a subtle acknowledgement, like a secret.
like a secret.
your breath caught in your lungs—just for a second—heat skimmed your skin. you felt so self–conscious, not in the insecure way, but in a way where you’re aware. you swallowed, turning fully back to jay as he waved and called out heeseung’s name, grounding yourself in the warm firmness of his hold.
you loved jay, you really did.
and yet…
“hey,” sunghoon said softly, leaning against the countertop where you were just getting yourself a can of soda. one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cup lazily.
you blinked, then smiled, hooking your finger into the tab and pulled it back, letting out the short and sharp hiss of the gas. “oh, hi sunghoon,” you hummed, turning your body his way so you were facing him.
sunghoon huffed a laugh, a small one, “you made it.” his gaze swept over you again, quickly, but not quick or subtle enough to pretend it didn't happen. you shrugged, sipping your soda through the straw.”mmhm, i told you i’d ask jay.”
sunghoon nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line momentarily before he smiled. “you look nice. silver looks really good on you, don’t they?” your brows listed slightly, amused. glancing down at your dress, you suppressed a smile, biting the inside of your cheek.
“you think so?”
sunghoon’s eyes flicked down your figure again—properly taking you in now that there was a reason to. “yeah,” he said, voice low like the compliment was meant just for you. “i do.”
you felt a flutter in your stomach—the sharp pinch of attention you weren’t supposed to enjoy.
fiddling with your straw, a soft laugh slipping out. “you… look nice too, i guess. for a pair of jeans and white shirt.” you teased. his jaw ticked, barely, like he was trying not to show how much the words pleased him. or maybe irritated him.
with sunghoon it was hard to tell; everything he felt passed like shadows under water, there and gone before you could name it.
“you guess,” he echoed, leaning one shoulder against the counter, head dipping closer. “i complimented you, said you’re pretty ‘n all, and all i get is a you guess?” sunghoon feigned offense, raising an eyebrow like he’s curious.
you giggled, shaking your head. you rolled your eyes playfully, circling the soda can in your hand. “hey—that’s good enough,” you shrugged, pressing the straw between your lips. “and you said i look nice, not that i’m pretty.”
sunghoon scoffed playfully, the corner of his lip turned into a smirk. “a pretty girl like you don’t need to be told that you’re pretty, yn,” he hummed, taking a sip of his drink as he watched you through the rim.
“you know that better than anyone else.”
huh, weird—it’s not the alcohol but something tighter, hotter, wrong in a way that pulls you forward like gravity. you blinked at him, throat doing that useless little swallow. “you’re just saying anythin’ now,” you hmph–ed, shaking your head.
sunghoon’s brows lifted in the smallest, laziest arc, like he was amused you thought he was saying anything unusual. he dipped his head toward you, voice calm, steady, too confident for how casual it should be.
“why not?”
a beat.
“you are pretty.”
there it was again—that thrumming pulse, that quiet guilt slithering along your ribs. “okay well,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on him. “now you’re just milking it.”
sunghoon chuckled, his pretty canines flashing through. “well,” he murmured, swirling the liquid in his cup lazily, “before you accuse me of milking it—” he smirked, “you’d have to be spoiled first.”
your mouth parted in outrage—confusion, or something warm and electric you didn’t want to acknowledge. “did you just—” you whispered, half–laughing, half–aghast, “that’s not even—that didn’t even make sense!”
you giggled, and sunghoon just watched. so pretty—how did jay bag someone like you? gosh, he should’ve met you earlier.
“well, whatever you say,” your giggled died down, straw pressed against the corner of your mouth as you sipped again, still looking at him through your lashes you swore you weren’t fluttering on purpose.
your gaze flicked toward the living room—where your boyfriend’s laugh carried faintly over music and shouts. “oh,” you cleared your throat, placing your empty can on the counter. “think i should go now, i left jay alone for too long.”
sunghoon hummed, nodding as he watched you. “right,” he said, lips curving slow. at least you weren’t leaving him because of the way he was. “yeah, wouldn’t want him to get worried.”
you nodded with a shrug, already turning your body halfway when sunghoon called you out,
“see you around, then.”
you looked back against your shoulder, offering him a smile as you lightly waved your hand. “see you around, sunghoon.”
his eyes dipped, watching as you disappeared between the bodies of people.
baby steps.
——
you and sunghoon’s friendship was… strange. too light to call it anything, but too charged to call it innocent.
it was harmless, really! you and jay were still together, still held hands and smiled and he still brought you flowers, and you still melted every time he kissed your forehead.
but there was also… space where sunghoon existed—it’s soft and subtle and it threaded through your days before you realised he’d already made a place there.
it’s just little moments, but those little moments were big.
“oh gosh, it’s so sunny,” you hissed, covering the sunlight with your hand in front of you. jay was laughing with his friends, too busy recounting a play to notice your discomfort. this was like the first time ever that jay was unattentive, but you just let it pass since they’d just won their latest match, with your boyfriend being the valuable player.
let him have his moment.
sunghoon next to you, however, noticed. he didn’t say anything at first, just watched you tilt your forehead, lashes fluttering against the glare. his gaze flicked upward, catching something you couldn’t see.
“hold still,” he murmured. before you could ask, he leaned in. sunghoon’s hand lifted—not to block the sun, though part of his shadow fell over your face anyway—but to gently brush something from your hair.
a tiny petal clung to his fingertip before drifting away on the breeze.
his fingers didn’t leave right away.
they lingered from your hair, down to tuck a strand behind your ear. his thumb ghosted your cheekbone, like he was checking just how far he could go before you pulled away.
you didn’t.
you breath caught, just for a second, a fragile heartbeat suspended between you. his eyes stayed on your face. finally, he dropped his hand, shifting slightly on the picnic mat so he absorbed most of the sun.
“better?” he asked softly. you swallowed, forcing a tiny, shy smile. “mmhm.. just bright…”
“oh—crap, sorry baby,” jay’s voice cut in, warm and full of genuine concern. you turned just in time to see him breaking the conversation, already tugging off his cap. “sorry baby,” he apologised again.
before you could tell him it’s okay—he leaned down to settle the cap gently over your hair, adjusting the brim with his fingers so your hair wouldn’t get messy.
“there,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone—so close to where sunghoon was just grazing. “don’t want my girl burning up.”
you laughed softly, cheeks warming as you leaned in toward his shoulder shyly. “so cheesy,” you murmured, pressing your cheek against his forearm.
sunshine bright, golden affection.
at the corner of your eyes, you saw sunghoon’s gaze slide back to you before he looked away, a small scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head.
it wasn’t just that.
another day, after a dinner together with his friends, jay excused himself to the restroom, leaving you and just a few others outside the restaurant. it’d gotten chilly these past few days, and you cussed yourself for not wearing something warmer.
you shifted your weight, exhaling a shaky breath that left a cloud in the air.
“cold?”
you hadn’t even noticed sunghoon watching you until his voice cut through the chatter. he stood slightly apart from the group, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. you blinked, caught. “what? nah, i’m fine,”
a thin puff of white lip left your lips.
sunghoon’s brow lifted just a little, one corner of his mouth tugging into a teasing smirk at your stubbornness. “yn, you’re shivering,” he chuckled, ruffling the back of his head.
you shook your head again, but you were hugging yourself and that was already proof that you were lying. with no hesitation, suddenly his varsity jacket was draping over yours. heavy, warm, smelled so strongly of him—of sunghoon, one of your boyfriend’s bestfriend.
“sunghoon—” you started, holding the collar with awkward fingers, heat prickling up your neck. “you don’t have to—”
“i know,” he cut in simply, hands sliding back into his pockets like nothing happened. “just take it.”
he shrugged lightly, eyes returning to the street. “just don’t get sick,” his gaze slid to you again, lingering just long enough. with a raise of his hands, sunghoon buttoned the top buttons of his jacket. “jay would feel awful.”
you nodded, pursing your lips. “yeah, he would.”
——
you should’ve woken jay up and left when you felt your boyfriend’s head slowly drooping on your shoulder. heeseung sat on the floor with a pillow, already halfway gone, blinking slower and slower between scenes.
sunghoon lounged on the other end of the couch, next to you, his legs rested atop of the coffee table. stretched back, black tee, fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest.
and you?
you were indulging the movie. some romcom from 2004 about a girl navigating her way in the city, and a boy who wants to leave the city—you weren’t aware of the quiet and the closeness.
at some point, jay’s head landed softly against your shoulder, his hands resting on the pillow on his lap. your heart warmed instinctively, and you adjusted the blanket over him just a little—out of muscle memory of love.
suddenly—breathless moans, bare skin, tangled limbs on screen.
“oh my god—” you gasped, too loud and sharp in the room. your hand flew to your pillow where you brought it up against your face, covering it. your other hand fumbled the remote where you smacked pause, making the audio cut mid–whimper.
jay stirred, but didn’t wake.
you could feel the heat rushing to your face, ears, everywhere, mortified.
“what?” sunghoon murmured, voice low and almost confused, eyes on you rather than the frozen image on the screen. it didn’t help that the actor was obviously on top of the actress.
you shook your head. “nothing, nothing, just um—” your tongue felt clumsy, the silence pressed, soft breath of two sleeping boys, and the sharp awareness of the one awake beside you.
raising a brow, sunghoon glanced at the screen, then back to you—before finally realising what was up. “ahhh,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, full of knowing. your cheeks burned, fingers tightening around the cushion, shoulders tensing.
“stop,” you muffled, even though he hadn’t said anything else yet.
“i didn’t say anything,” he chuckled, leaning back again. but his eyes didn’t leave your face. they stayed on you—amused. you swallowed, toes curling the sofa fabric.
sunghoon’s grin widened as he propped his elbow on the backrest and his chin on the heel of his palm, now facing you. “are you getting shy over a sex scene?” he teased, tilting his head slightly.
“you have a boyfriend, yn, don’t tell me a little sex movie makes you flustered.” he finished, voice dipping just low enough.
slowly, you pulled the cushion away, shooting him a warning glare that was more like a kitten glare to him. “i’m not shy, i—i just didn’t expect that scene, okay?” you waved a hand helplessly at the paused screen, “it’s different watching it.”
sunghoon blinked slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he processed your phrasing. “...watching it…?
you nodded, rolling your eyes. “like—when it’s not theoretical, or—whatever.”
a beat of silence.
then, sunghoon’s lips parted, breath catching in a tiny laugh that slid right down your spine.
“you mean,” he said softly, leaning closer like a predator humoring prey that hadn’t yet realised it was cornered. “when you haven’t done it yet?”
you froze.
your throat worked and nothing came out—you’re not good at lying.
you whispered, barely breathing, “...i wouldn’t know.”
sunghoon still. then, slower than hunger, his head tilted and his lashes lowered. “right,” he murmured, gaze locked on your mouth. the room didn’t feel like a living room anymore. two boys slept inches away, but it felt like just the two of you breathing.
“aren’t you curious?”
you swallowed, pulse fluttering. “i mean… isn’t everyone?” you whispered, eyes fixed somewhere near his collarbone instead of his eyes. “at one point of their life? it’s not like i—” you exhaled, glancing briefly at jay’s hands on his lap. “it’s everything… and i respect his choice.”
sunghoon’s brows lifted. “his choice,” he tasted the words at the tip of his tongue. “and yours?”
you blinked at him, “mine?”
“you respect his,” he leaned just enough that your knees brushed against each other. “but what about you? anyone ever asked you what you want?”
you breath caught, you shifted on your seat, pulling your legs closer to your chest. “that’s not—” you murmured, eyes dropping to sunghoon’s hand playing with the drawstring of his sweats. “i don’t… i don’t want to do anything wrong.”
sunghoon smiled faintly, like he’s coaxing a kitten from under the table.
“wrong?” he echoed, “yn, i’m not talking about… cheating.” he shrugged, brushing the cushion by your knee. “i’m asking if you ever think about learning. understanding, not because you were lacking—” his gaze flicked down to the bobbed in your throat, “but because you’re curious. you deserve to know your body, not just wait for someone else to figure out first.”
your heart skipped.
holy shit.
then sunghoon continued, “there are ways to… explore. to feel without crossing lines you don’t want to cross.”
you stared at your boyfriend’s friend, helpless and burning, brain blank except for the pounding rhythm of your heart, and the heat slowly pooling in your stomach.
“...what are you saying?”
sunghoon’s smiled curled, his fingers pinching and releasing his locks. “i’m saying," he murmured. “you respect him. that’s why you don’t do anything.”
he breathed a soft scoff at the thought—a girl like you existed, perfect in all edges, and yet jay couldn’t give you that one thing you probably wanted in a relationship. his eyes cut toward jay sleeping by your side, before returning to you.
“but if you’re holding back for him…” he leaned in just a fraction, and your pussy twitched—you swore you felt your panties getting wet.
“...what’s stopping you from learning with someone who isn’t asking you to wait?”
your lips parted, breath shaky.
“with me, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
lies.
“hngh, mhh,” you whimpered against his lips—sunghoon pressed his lips against yours, muffling your little moans and whimpers and mewls, one hand sliding down your tummy and beneath your panties.
he slipped his tongue inside yours, tangling and twirling and dancing with your tongue, breath warm and heaty. his rough hand grazed your clit, just airy and barely there bit it elicited a hitched sound from you.
using two fingers to stroke and rub your clit in circular motion, sunghoon dipped his fingers between your labia where he scooped your juice to lather over your cunt. “you’re so wet,” sunghoon murmured, nipping at your earshell.
you shifted on his lap, throwing your head back against his chest, heart shuddering where his hand rubbed your wet pussy. “fuck,” he breathed, feeling his painfully aching cock pressed between your asscheeks.
“are you wet for me, baby?” he continued, licking the curved shell before kissing your concha. you nodded pathetically, both hands holding sunghoon’s other hand that rested on your tummy, anchoring yourself down on his lap.
the way he worked with your cunt left you breathless, fingertip grazing and flicking the little pea, ring and middle fingers dipping just at the entrance where it teased—contemplating if you deserve to be fingered or not.
“d—don’t tease me, sunghoon,” you gasped softly arching your back, which made your ass pressed harder on sunghoon’s bulge. the boy hissed, nipping at the soft skin just below your jaw. “no baby,” he murmured warmly.
again, sunghoon dipped the second crease of his ring inside your pussy, teasing. “call me hoonie and i’ll finger you,” he continued, lapping his tongue on the spot he’d just bitten. you let out a soft moan, squeezing his hand.
nodding, you wanted to rock and buck your hips against his palm, but not sure if that was the right thing to do, so you opted to let sunghoon take the lead. “hoonie, hoonie, please?” you pleaded adorably, just the way sunghoon liked it.
with a light chuckle, continuing a little rubbing on your pussy, sunghoon slid one finger inside your cunt, already making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “hngh,” your body responded nicely, back arching as sunghoon began pumping his finger in and out.
just one and he’s got you folded like origami?
“baby, relax,” he whispered, one hand (still being gripped by your hands) moved to lift your top, letting it rest above your collarbone. sunghoon hooked one finger underneath your bra as he pulled it up, your pretty tits bouncing lewdly.
running his thumb over one perky nipple, it distracted you enough for him to slide another finger in, two fingers already stuffing his tight cunt full. “oh, oh god, hngh—” you whimpered like a kitten, fingers curling around his palm.
sunghoon began moving his fingers to his knuckles, in and out, back and forth, biting his bottom lip at the faint wet noises from your slickness coating his fingers. instinctively, you started rocking your hips against his palm, burying his fingers deeper inside.
“fuck, your pussy’s gripping my fingers,” he moaned as you grinded on his cock. sunghoon didn’t know if that was on purpose, but fuck that felt good. his fingers made a scissoring motion inside of you, stretching you good and nice for something bigger—his desperate, throbbing cock.
leaving a hickey just behind your ear, sunghoon then curled his fingers inside of you, pressing against your gummy soft spot. you whimper a broken moan, head tipping back against his chest. “hoonie, oh there,” you breathed out, guts twisting in your tummy. “right there, please, feels s’good there,”
knowing you were close, sunghoon picked up his pace, fingers started thrusting into you faster and faster, pressing the spot harder as his thumb circled your clit mercilessly, you were making a mess out of his hand, wetting your pants.
his other hand tugged on your nipple where he rolled the bud between his fingerpads, pinching and flicking with his index. “oh shit, hngh, think ‘m cumming, mhh,” you cried out softly, the pressure building up inside of you.
the orgasm hit—you arched your back and squirted on sunghoon’s hand, legs shaking and trembling in sunghoon’s lap. “mh—oh hoonie, ah,” sunghoon gave your pussy a couple more pumping, helping you ride out your high.
once you’ve weakened on him, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy twitched and clamping around nothing—the sudden emptiness. he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean—just his ring finger.
then, he brought his middle, the one that’s still coated with your squirt and juice over to your lips, where he parted them. “taste yourself baby,” he murmured, slipping his finger inside your mouth where you sucked on it.
you rolled your tongue around his finger, bobbing your head—and god if it weren’t for the situation and the place the two of you were going to fuck, sunghoon would definitely make you suck his cock sloppy.
but your boyfriend and heeseung were sleeping just a few feet away—and as much as sunghoon fucking loved—and loved to fuck you—he also loved his position in the team.
besides, there’s always next time.
this wasn’t going to be the last time sunghoon fucked you.
“take out my cock, baby,” he hissed, pulling both your pants and panties down. you shivered at the cold air that made contact with your puffy, wet pussy, shivering under his touch. sunghoon was desperate, there’s a wet patch on his grey sweats from his precum, and he couldn’t be bothered with the foreplay but fuck—
it’s you.
his girl—but you didn’t know that yet—that’s going to get her cherry popped by him. so of course he needed to treat you gently. full of love—prove that he’s better than your boyfriend.
nodding, you backed a little to settle his clothed tent just in front of your pussy. lifting yourself up a little to pull down sunghoon’s sweats and boxes, your eyes widened as his throbbing, angry, needy cock sprung out, slapping your cunt.
precum oozed and trailed down from the tip along the side and it looked scary—scary at how that thing will be stretching and pounding your pussy. you swallowed the lump in your throat, heart thumping. “h—hoonie, you’re so…”
sunghoon chuckled, one hand still toying with your nipple. “yeah, baby,” he groaned, his cock twitching. “i’m gonna mold your insides to the shape of my cock.” he teased, using his free hand to guide your soft hands, making you wrapped your them around his shaft.
it’s so… textured, and so big. “jerk me off a little, baby,” he murmured against your ear where he once again, rolled his tongue around the curve. “pump me a little, make him feel good.”
you nodded obediently, beginning to stroke it. behind you, sunghoon’s breath hitched, you’re lathering his precum around his cock, and using it as lube to make it more slippery. but that wasn’t enough—”spit on it, babe.”
you gathered a blob of saliva in your mouth, letting it fall past your lips as the warm thick liquid landed straight on the head, before it dripped down along your knuckles. “ahh, fuck, so warm,” he rasped, bucking your hips slowly to your grip.
you’re feeling confident at his reaction—you felt good. pumping his cock up and down, up and down, you gave it occasional squeezes where it’s soft, eliciting a rough moan from his chest. his heavy breathing reverberates against your back as your stroked him from the base up to the head.
“feels good, hoonie?” you bit down your lower lip, picking up your pace, his veins dragged against your soft palms. sunghoon nodded pathetically and eagerly, using both hands to fondle your tits like stressballs. “so fucking good, baby just do your thing,”
god, that boosted your ego. you pressed your thumbpad against the tip, rolling around where he’s sensitive. sunghoon bucked his hips instinctively. “there, fuck, there babe,” he breathed out, thrusting into your grip. languid strokes filled the living room, wet and sloshy.
you played around the mushroom head, twirling your thumb, while the other hand stroked him back and forth. sunghoon felt it building up—as he quickened his pace, one last stroke of your hand made him ejaculate, shooting ropes of cum over your knuckles.
“fuckkkkk,” he hissed, as quiet as he could and his balls pumped cum, squeezing your tits like he’s holding himself sane. you let out a soft gasp, this was the first time you’d ever seen a guy cumming up close.
sunghoon tipped his head back as you released your grip around his dick, letting it fall limply and tapping against your pussy. slowly, you looked back over your shoulder. “hoonie… now what?” you murmured so softly and so cutely, sunghoon felt his cock twitch again.
his spine straightened as he leaned forward, pressing his back against you. “what do you wanna do baby?” his lips ghosted over your lips. “tell your hoonie.” he continued, pecking your lips. heat rushed to your face as you bit down your bottom lip.
“i… want your cock inside my pussy,” you whispered shyly, leaning to take his lips in yours. sunghoon grinned, “whatever you want.” he wrapped his hand around his cock to guide it to your pussy, teasingly rubbing the wet head between your pussy lips.
you moan softly, whimpering, “you’re such a tease,” the sensation was not the ideal amount of friction, but teasing felt so good—like the rising action before the climax. sunghoon chuckled, watching as his head collected and mixed with your juices.
“if you let me fuck you like a boyfriend, i’ll fuck you stupid,” he murmured into your ear, teasing you as he slipped in the head, then pulled out. you couldn’t take it anymore—nodding and turning your head to kiss sunghoon on the lips, you were about to do just anything to lose your virginity tonight.
“mmhm—mmhm, please, you can be my boyfriend hoonie,” you pleaded, grinding your pussy along his cock. fuck—that was all that sunghoon’s ever wanted to hear. he’s done playing the side bitch for the last two months.
grabbing ahold of your hip, sunghoon’s cockhead pushed past your entrance where it stretched her again.
“hah—!” you half–whispered, half–gasped, feeling sunghoon’s cock slowly getting buried deeper, and deeper until the curve of your ass made contact with his pelvis. “my fucking goood,” he whined, letting it still for you to adjust yourself, walls clenching at the sudden fullness. “so tight, baby, holy shit,”
you knew he was big, but fuck did he grow inside? you should’ve seen this coming the second his cock sprung out of his sweats.
“i’ll let you move first, baby,” he nipped your jaw, one hand circling your pussy to help you loosened, the other fondling your tit. fuck sunghoon loved your boobs. “don’t wanna hurt my pretty girl,”
you nodded, slowly began grinding back and forth, stirring your hips in circle. “s’big hoonie,” you whimpered, going in all directions. the pace of your grinding gradually picked up as sunghoon started rocking his hips too in short and deep thrusts.
he shifted in his seat, sitting up right and comfortably. then, his hands slid under your things, fingers curling possessively as he lifted you easily, guiding you higher on his lap.
sunghoon began thrusting his cock back and forth, in and out of your wet pussy. so wet it slipped back in perfectly with no resistance. “ah fuck,” he rasped, laboured breathing at your back combined with the wet sounds connecting from where your skins met.
he hefted up your legs, almost pushing them to either side of your head, but your flexibility could only go so far. sunghoon drove into you at a pace, balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every thrust.
you moaned, playing with your own tits as you tried muffling your moans with one hand. this new angle allowed sunghoon to reach and hit deeper inside, knocking on your cervix that it jerked your body upward.
it also just hit you that you were displayed so erotically in front of your sleeping boyfriend and his friend. the second jay fluttered his eyes open—he’d instantly be greeted with the sight of his girlfriend being fucked reverse cowgirl by his own bestfriend.
alcohol couldn’t even be blamed.
“harder, hoonie, deeper,” you drooled, tits bouncing with each pound of sunghoon’s cock. sunghoon obeyed, picking up his pace, his cock was barely seen before it disappeared again, engulfed by your needy pussy.
“shit, i love you so much,” he confessed, licking your saliva that slipped at the corner of your lip. it’s disgusting, but it’s you, so who gave a fuck, really?
sunghoon was pounding into you so hard it felt like he was going to tear your body apart. your g–spot was being stimulated with every graze of his cock. while he felt like his cock was going to burst if you kept clenching and gripping around it like a vice.
his grip on yours was like iron, not letting you move an inch as he did all the work—slamming his cock deep inside you that you swore he was trying to rearrange your guts.
“oh my god, oh god,” you cried out, arching your back as you tipped your head on sunghoon shoulder. his speed increased, and rapidly reaching at a pace he didn’t know existed. “you’re gonna cum baby?” he hummed, mixed with panting and heavy breathing as he kissed your temple.
you nodded, the air was being fucked out of your lungs that it’s hard to even form a simple yes—you squeezed your eyes shut, eyelids fluttering with each time sunghoon’s cock pistoned into you.
“fuck, i’m gonna cum too,” he hissed almost painfully, your walls spasmed around him unforgivingly as you rode out your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hips began to stutter, and so were his grip on your thighs.
“uh huh, hoonie, please, please, cum inside—are you going to cum inside me?”
sunghoon cocked a brow, before a chuckle left his lips. “yn baby,” he licked a long stride of your cheek. “if i give you a creampie, you’ll get knocked up with my baby,” he groaned softly at the thought, slamming his cock.
“smart girls like you should know that we should get married first.”
gosh—you weren’t in your right mind anymore. it was as if sunghoon’s cock had messily scattered all the knowledge inside your brain, he truly was fucking you dumb and stupid.
the tip of his cock kissed your cervix—and with one brutal slam that knocked the air out of your lungs, sunghoon immediately hefted you up, his cock sprung out wobbly and almost instantly, shot out a second round of cum ropes on your tummy.
decorating your pussy with thick white semen, you let out a gush of wetness on sunghoon’s pelvis—your moans being muffled by sunghoon’s hand. he knew you would let out the sexiest sound known to man, but he couldn’t risk you being caught and humiliated.
your legs trembled as sunghoon milked every drop out of his pulsing cock. twitching as they softened on your cunt.
chests heaving and exhausted, you collapsed on sunghoon’s chest. he gently let go of your legs, settling you between his legs as his cock pressed against your bag. “oh my god,” you panted, resting your head against sunghoon’s chest.
he pulled down your shirt before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up slightly closer. nuzzling into the warmth of the crook of your neck, sunghoon gently kissed your skin, rubbing circles on your tummy.
“how’s that. baby?” he hummed, getting all giddy and jittery. you lolled your head lazily, holding his hands that rested on your stomach. “feels s’good…” you mumbled, slowly feeling your eyelids growing heavier.
sunghoon kissed your cheek with a soft mwah—”don’t sleep on me yet,” he murmured, lips grazing your flesh. “still gotta get my girlfriend cleaned up.”
in front of you, jay groaned softly, getting comfortable on the sofa—still not awakened.
jay probably shouldn't have introduced you, his girlfriend to his teammates─especially sunghoon, if he'd know sunghoon would be the one to pop your cherry jay thought was his by his patience alone.
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader ft. 박종성 𓊇 jessie is a friend. yeah, i know he's been a good friend of mine. jessie's got himself a girl. and i wanna make her mine, you know i wish that i had jessie's girl. i wish that i had jessie's girl. ─ jessie's girl, rick springfield ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 thank you 🐝 anony for the ask/request! (you're the first one, so you got it special mwa). i really, really love writing this and i hope i did it justice~ it's quite hard to write the buildup so i hope this doesn't feel rushed ♡ don't forget to comment and reblog! means more to me than you know.
word count 7.3k
content advisory emotional cheating + literal cheating, emotional manipulation, morally gray reader, slight manipulation, angst if you're park jongseong, guilt–themes, secrecy, possessive undertones, almost badboy!sunghoon + goodgirl!reader, sexual tension + flirting
smut advisory loss of virginity (reader), voyeur–adjacent tension, pussy fingering, squirting, handjob, reverse cowgirl, profanity, dirty talking, soft(?)dom!sunghoon, innocent!reader, slow corruption, nipple play, making out, saliva play
you love jay, truly—how could you not? when he's just so good at everything he does.
he walks you to class, buys two of everything so you can enjoy it at a later time, buys you flowers everytime… if the world could be bought with money, jay would place it in your palms wrapped in silk ribbon.
jay calls you angel, but you’re starting to want to be ruined instead.
“you’ll be fine!” you boyfriend said, a grin etched on his face as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. you let him, bottom lip puckering out slightly. “are you sure? i’m so nervous though,” you murmured, covering your face with your palms as you let out a muffled groan.
he always looked so annoyingly calm—while you felt ridiculously jittery. excitement twinned with dread twisting in your stomach. for the first time ever, you’re finally meeting his team. like all the eleven players. the famous football players. the ones everyone gravitated toward on campus…
those loud, tall, shining, charming boys who slapped backs and laughed with their chests.
jay pried your hands down gently, holding them in his. “they’ll love you,” he said, so certain it almost hurt. “you could walk in and say nothing the whole time and they’d still love you,” he continued with a hum, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “because my girlfriend is so lovable like that.”
because you were his. that’s what he didn’t say, but you heard it.
you swallowed, lips pursing. “what if they don’t?”
“then that’s their problem,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead—soft, reverent, protective in that way that made your knees go weak. “you’re amazing, don’t worry.”
you exhaled, tension beginning to melt just a little—right as the restaurant door behind you swung open. a couple walked out, then the noise behind spilled out—laughter, shouts, someone joking.
jay nudged you forward gently. “perfect timing. c’mon.” giving your hand a playful squeeze, you let your boyfriend guide you inside. the restaurant hummed with various noises, the team’s voices rising from the back corner in chaos.
“jay–ah!” jake said, waving his hand so enthusiastically he might knock over a glass. “here!” your boyfriend laughed, lifting the other hand to wave back. “sorry, sorry, parking was insane.”
“excuses,” another boy chimed in, grinning. “who’s that?”
heat rushed to your cheeks immediately. jay’s arm slid around your waist, casual but proud. “this is my girlfriend,” he announced, gently guiding you towards an empty seat. “come on, let’s sit.”
before you could even think, he guided you to the nearest open space at the long table. you slid in, keeping your eyes down in what you hoped was a polite, sweet–girlfriend way instead of a terrified baby deer entering the forest.
jay took the seat on your right, the end of the table. he never lets you sit at the end. you took the seat on the right, pulling your chair closer under the table. his arm brushed yours as he sat, ensuring you’re comfortable.
the conversation quickly spilled around you, voices overlapping:
“coach made us run suicides again—”
“‘m going to skip weights this week,”
your boyfriend laughed, throwing an arm over the back of your chair as he engaged in the topic. you sipped the cold drink that’d been put in front of you, hands wrapped around the glass so you’d stop fidgeting.
it’s so awkward and so… out of place for you. you just sat there quietly, content to just listen. jay was in his elements, laughing with his dearest teammates, so full and bright and warm in a way you liked seeing.
a glass clinked near your left, and you glanced that way.
“hi,”
next to you, sunghoon leaned slightly in your direction—holding his drink loosely, fingers around the condensation–slick glass. he wasn’t loud like others—just listening as well, eyes flicking between his friends, lips curved slightly at every joke.
you gave a small, sweet polite smile back. “hi.”
it came out airy, barely above the hum of the table. not shy, just soft. sunghoon nodded once, almost gentle. he didn’t move his gaze away, no such thing as social rules of not staring at someone else’s girlfriend too long applied to him, not when said girlfriend is probably the prettiest little thing sunghoon has ever laid his eyes on.
he seemed calm. and yes—objectively very good–looking—the kind that would normally make you flustered (it worked) if you didn’t have a boyfriend.
“first time meeting the team?” he asked, voice steady and calm. you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before nodding. “yeah… jay’s been… talking about this for a while.”
sunghoon’s lips ticked up—into something of a slight smirk. “jay talks a lot about you too,” he said, low enough as if it’s meant to be for you. “i was starting to think he made you up. but i guess not, a girl like you does exist.”
you blinked, warmth pooling low in your stomach—jay’s name in someone else’s mouth, from the reality of just how much he must gush when you’re not there.
your breath caught in your throat—not because it was overly charming, but because it was so smooth. you blinked, barely managing a tiny laugh. “well… surprise.” you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek.
“lucky him,” he murmured, then lifted his glass slightly in a casual half–cheers gesture. “i’m sunghoon, by the way.”
“yn,” you placed your hand in his when he offered it, his palm warm against your cool ones, grip firm and brief. “nice to finally meet you,” you said, offering the sweetness you always have on.
“yeah,” sunghoon replied, giving your hand a light squeeze before he pulls away with a lingering heat, leaning back in his seat as he tapped the rim of his glass with his thumb, “the pleasure’s all mine.”
your boyfriend laughed beside you, nudging your knee under the table by accident. you looked away, warmth blooming in your cheeks as you leaned slightly towards jay, placing your hand on his thigh.
still, you could feel sunghoon’s gaze linger on you.
——
after that night, you went home warm with relief—jay’s team liked you, like he said, jay was happy, and you’d managed to get through dinner without spilling anything on yourself or make a fool.
just a few days later, a notification slid from the top of your screen. you’d just finished showering and sank into bed, getting comfortable to face another night.
p.sunghoon just followed you.
you blinked. once, twice—oh? you pursed your lips, thumb hovering stupidly over the screen for a moment. you weren’t sure if you remembered exchanging usernames—actually, you were positive you didn’t.
jay definitely didn’t mention giving it. he wasn’t the “here’s my girlfriend’s instagram” type; if anything he really tried to protect you from the eyes of men.
and yet… there it was. sunghoon’s follow notification.
“let me just stalk you…” you murmured, humming to yourself as you tapped on his profile. his display picture sharp even in the tiny circle—a mirror selfie of him in his white tank. his feed was curated—football, track pants, icy expressions, candid flashes.
everything about him just screamed he knew exactly how attractive he was without ever needing to try.
and fuck, he was.
before you could hit the follow button, another notification popped up. sunghoon had liked a picture of you from a couple months ago—the one where you were visiting the alpaca world in gangwon.
then another—a summer picture of you and your friends, wearing a bikini top underneath sheer cardigan, and a pair of shorts.
a quiet instinctive oh sat low. he was stalking your instagram, the same time you were stalking his.
you followed him back, tossing and turning on your back on the bed, getting ready to close the app. but before you could do so, sunghoon sent you a message.
p.sunghoon: hey there
you cocked an eyebrow at the message, fingers lingering above the keyboard.
yn.ln : hi
p.sunghoon: you showed up in my suggested by the way
p.sunghoon: totally wasn’t searching you up or anything
you bit down a smile, his sarcasm threading clean through the screen—light warmth crawled up your neck despite every rational cell in your brain telling you stop that.
yn.ln : oh right that’s so believable
another bubble appeared almost immediately.
p.sunghoon: you gotta trust me.
p.sunghoon: but i guess i got lucky too
yn.ln : how so?
a second, then two passed—before the bubbles appeared again.
p.sunghoon: i got to talk to you, didn’t i?
your heart skipped in your chest. not romantic, not sweeping, not anything that should matter… but awareness that this felt wrong, and to an extent it probably was wrong—but it’s not like the two of you were doing anything aside from talking, right?
your fingertips hovered above your keyboard, stomach pulling tight. dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you thought of a reply that could come off as neutral.
yn.ln: you give me too much credit lol
p.sunghoon: guess so.
p. sunghoon: coming to heeseung’s party tmrw?
p.sunghoon: heeseung is the guy in jersey num 01 btw
you pursed your lips, sucking the inside of your cheek as you stared at the messages. a party… jay hadn’t mentioned it yet—but jay would want you there. his girlfriend, on his arm, at his friend’s party.
yn.ln: ohh i remember himm.
yn.ln: i’ll ask jay!! wld be awkward going without someone i know
you rolled on your stomach, legs swinging in the air.
p.sunghoon: well we can get to know each other
p.sunghoon: then i can be the other person you know
you chuckled softly, tapping your index on your lips before replying,
yn.ln: let’s see :p
then, you tossed your phone onto the pillow, buried your face, and groaned into the sheets—a muffled, frustrated sound because this felt messy already and you hadn’t even done anything bad.
rolling over for the nth time of the night, you hugged your pillow and stared at the ceiling again, breathing out slowly like maybe if you exhaled long enough, you could convince yourself that this wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it inside your head.
later, just before bed, you’d ask jay about the party. you’d go with him, hold his hand, stay close, and be good—and be there because you wanted to know the people in jay’s life.
totally not because someone had asked you first.
——
the music thumped—deep, heavy bass vibrated through the walls, the floor, your ribs. coloured lights strobed across a sea of bodies, cups raised, laughter spilling louder everywhere you went.
jay’s hand was warm at your lower back as you stepped inside. he’d kissed your temple before you walked in and said, "you're so perfect. gosh, can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” in that sweet, earnest way that always made your heart skipped joyfully.
“come, let’s greet heeseung first,” jay leaned in, murmuring in your ear as he guided you towards the living room—where most boys (and girls) were gathered. you nodded, letting yourself melt into his side as he steered you through the crowd—arm instinctively looping around his middle, the clean scent of his cologne filling up your nose.
the living room was alive—boys yelling over some game, girls cheering, people dancing and swaying at the sides. jay fit into it all effortlessly—but in a good way, so easy and loved and respected.
and you were right there next to him, jay’s pretty, smart, proper, lovely little girlfriend, tucked perfectly against him like you belonged—his world, afterall.
jay spotted heeseung across the room first. “ah, there he is,” his hand squeezed you waist softly. “ready?”
you nodded, jittering nervously.
and then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.
park sunghoon.
leaning against the arm of the couch, cup in hand, body half–turned to you—until you looked, and he instantly looked right back. as if he could sense your eyes on him.
sunghoon’s lip curled into a small smile, but he didn’t nod. just a flick of his gaze—deliberate—travelling from your kitten heels, up your bare legs, the curve of your hips and breasts, lingering at your neckline where you wore a necklace of your first initial, before meeting your eyes with a subtle acknowledgement, like a secret.
like a secret.
your breath caught in your lungs—just for a second—heat skimmed your skin. you felt so self–conscious, not in the insecure way, but in a way where you’re aware. you swallowed, turning fully back to jay as he waved and called out heeseung’s name, grounding yourself in the warm firmness of his hold.
you loved jay, you really did.
and yet…
“hey,” sunghoon said softly, leaning against the countertop where you were just getting yourself a can of soda. one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cup lazily.
you blinked, then smiled, hooking your finger into the tab and pulled it back, letting out the short and sharp hiss of the gas. “oh, hi sunghoon,” you hummed, turning your body his way so you were facing him.
sunghoon huffed a laugh, a small one, “you made it.” his gaze swept over you again, quickly, but not quick or subtle enough to pretend it didn't happen. you shrugged, sipping your soda through the straw.”mmhm, i told you i’d ask jay.”
sunghoon nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line momentarily before he smiled. “you look nice. silver looks really good on you, don’t they?” your brows listed slightly, amused. glancing down at your dress, you suppressed a smile, biting the inside of your cheek.
“you think so?”
sunghoon’s eyes flicked down your figure again—properly taking you in now that there was a reason to. “yeah,” he said, voice low like the compliment was meant just for you. “i do.”
you felt a flutter in your stomach—the sharp pinch of attention you weren’t supposed to enjoy.
fiddling with your straw, a soft laugh slipping out. “you… look nice too, i guess. for a pair of jeans and white shirt.” you teased. his jaw ticked, barely, like he was trying not to show how much the words pleased him. or maybe irritated him.
with sunghoon it was hard to tell; everything he felt passed like shadows under water, there and gone before you could name it.
“you guess,” he echoed, leaning one shoulder against the counter, head dipping closer. “i complimented you, said you’re pretty ‘n all, and all i get is a you guess?” sunghoon feigned offense, raising an eyebrow like he’s curious.
you giggled, shaking your head. you rolled your eyes playfully, circling the soda can in your hand. “hey—that’s good enough,” you shrugged, pressing the straw between your lips. “and you said i look nice, not that i’m pretty.”
sunghoon scoffed playfully, the corner of his lip turned into a smirk. “a pretty girl like you don’t need to be told that you’re pretty, yn,” he hummed, taking a sip of his drink as he watched you through the rim.
“you know that better than anyone else.”
huh, weird—it’s not the alcohol but something tighter, hotter, wrong in a way that pulls you forward like gravity. you blinked at him, throat doing that useless little swallow. “you’re just saying anythin’ now,” you hmph–ed, shaking your head.
sunghoon’s brows lifted in the smallest, laziest arc, like he was amused you thought he was saying anything unusual. he dipped his head toward you, voice calm, steady, too confident for how casual it should be.
“why not?”
a beat.
“you are pretty.”
there it was again—that thrumming pulse, that quiet guilt slithering along your ribs. “okay well,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on him. “now you’re just milking it.”
sunghoon chuckled, his pretty canines flashing through. “well,” he murmured, swirling the liquid in his cup lazily, “before you accuse me of milking it—” he smirked, “you’d have to be spoiled first.”
your mouth parted in outrage—confusion, or something warm and electric you didn’t want to acknowledge. “did you just—” you whispered, half–laughing, half–aghast, “that’s not even—that didn’t even make sense!”
you giggled, and sunghoon just watched. so pretty—how did jay bag someone like you? gosh, he should’ve met you earlier.
“well, whatever you say,” your giggled died down, straw pressed against the corner of your mouth as you sipped again, still looking at him through your lashes you swore you weren’t fluttering on purpose.
your gaze flicked toward the living room—where your boyfriend’s laugh carried faintly over music and shouts. “oh,” you cleared your throat, placing your empty can on the counter. “think i should go now, i left jay alone for too long.”
sunghoon hummed, nodding as he watched you. “right,” he said, lips curving slow. at least you weren’t leaving him because of the way he was. “yeah, wouldn’t want him to get worried.”
you nodded with a shrug, already turning your body halfway when sunghoon called you out,
“see you around, then.”
you looked back against your shoulder, offering him a smile as you lightly waved your hand. “see you around, sunghoon.”
his eyes dipped, watching as you disappeared between the bodies of people.
baby steps.
——
you and sunghoon’s friendship was… strange. too light to call it anything, but too charged to call it innocent.
it was harmless, really! you and jay were still together, still held hands and smiled and he still brought you flowers, and you still melted every time he kissed your forehead.
but there was also… space where sunghoon existed—it’s soft and subtle and it threaded through your days before you realised he’d already made a place there.
it’s just little moments, but those little moments were big.
“oh gosh, it’s so sunny,” you hissed, covering the sunlight with your hand in front of you. jay was laughing with his friends, too busy recounting a play to notice your discomfort. this was like the first time ever that jay was unattentive, but you just let it pass since they’d just won their latest match, with your boyfriend being the valuable player.
let him have his moment.
sunghoon next to you, however, noticed. he didn’t say anything at first, just watched you tilt your forehead, lashes fluttering against the glare. his gaze flicked upward, catching something you couldn’t see.
“hold still,” he murmured. before you could ask, he leaned in. sunghoon’s hand lifted—not to block the sun, though part of his shadow fell over your face anyway—but to gently brush something from your hair.
a tiny petal clung to his fingertip before drifting away on the breeze.
his fingers didn’t leave right away.
they lingered from your hair, down to tuck a strand behind your ear. his thumb ghosted your cheekbone, like he was checking just how far he could go before you pulled away.
you didn’t.
you breath caught, just for a second, a fragile heartbeat suspended between you. his eyes stayed on your face. finally, he dropped his hand, shifting slightly on the picnic mat so he absorbed most of the sun.
“better?” he asked softly. you swallowed, forcing a tiny, shy smile. “mmhm.. just bright…”
“oh—crap, sorry baby,” jay’s voice cut in, warm and full of genuine concern. you turned just in time to see him breaking the conversation, already tugging off his cap. “sorry baby,” he apologised again.
before you could tell him it’s okay—he leaned down to settle the cap gently over your hair, adjusting the brim with his fingers so your hair wouldn’t get messy.
“there,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone—so close to where sunghoon was just grazing. “don’t want my girl burning up.”
you laughed softly, cheeks warming as you leaned in toward his shoulder shyly. “so cheesy,” you murmured, pressing your cheek against his forearm.
sunshine bright, golden affection.
at the corner of your eyes, you saw sunghoon’s gaze slide back to you before he looked away, a small scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head.
it wasn’t just that.
another day, after a dinner together with his friends, jay excused himself to the restroom, leaving you and just a few others outside the restaurant. it’d gotten chilly these past few days, and you cussed yourself for not wearing something warmer.
you shifted your weight, exhaling a shaky breath that left a cloud in the air.
“cold?”
you hadn’t even noticed sunghoon watching you until his voice cut through the chatter. he stood slightly apart from the group, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. you blinked, caught. “what? nah, i’m fine,”
a thin puff of white lip left your lips.
sunghoon’s brow lifted just a little, one corner of his mouth tugging into a teasing smirk at your stubbornness. “yn, you’re shivering,” he chuckled, ruffling the back of his head.
you shook your head again, but you were hugging yourself and that was already proof that you were lying. with no hesitation, suddenly his varsity jacket was draping over yours. heavy, warm, smelled so strongly of him—of sunghoon, one of your boyfriend’s bestfriend.
“sunghoon—” you started, holding the collar with awkward fingers, heat prickling up your neck. “you don’t have to—”
“i know,” he cut in simply, hands sliding back into his pockets like nothing happened. “just take it.”
he shrugged lightly, eyes returning to the street. “just don’t get sick,” his gaze slid to you again, lingering just long enough. with a raise of his hands, sunghoon buttoned the top buttons of his jacket. “jay would feel awful.”
you nodded, pursing your lips. “yeah, he would.”
——
you should’ve woken jay up and left when you felt your boyfriend’s head slowly drooping on your shoulder. heeseung sat on the floor with a pillow, already halfway gone, blinking slower and slower between scenes.
sunghoon lounged on the other end of the couch, next to you, his legs rested atop of the coffee table. stretched back, black tee, fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest.
and you?
you were indulging the movie. some romcom from 2004 about a girl navigating her way in the city, and a boy who wants to leave the city—you weren’t aware of the quiet and the closeness.
at some point, jay’s head landed softly against your shoulder, his hands resting on the pillow on his lap. your heart warmed instinctively, and you adjusted the blanket over him just a little—out of muscle memory of love.
suddenly—breathless moans, bare skin, tangled limbs on screen.
“oh my god—” you gasped, too loud and sharp in the room. your hand flew to your pillow where you brought it up against your face, covering it. your other hand fumbled the remote where you smacked pause, making the audio cut mid–whimper.
jay stirred, but didn’t wake.
you could feel the heat rushing to your face, ears, everywhere, mortified.
“what?” sunghoon murmured, voice low and almost confused, eyes on you rather than the frozen image on the screen. it didn’t help that the actor was obviously on top of the actress.
you shook your head. “nothing, nothing, just um—” your tongue felt clumsy, the silence pressed, soft breath of two sleeping boys, and the sharp awareness of the one awake beside you.
raising a brow, sunghoon glanced at the screen, then back to you—before finally realising what was up. “ahhh,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, full of knowing. your cheeks burned, fingers tightening around the cushion, shoulders tensing.
“stop,” you muffled, even though he hadn’t said anything else yet.
“i didn’t say anything,” he chuckled, leaning back again. but his eyes didn’t leave your face. they stayed on you—amused. you swallowed, toes curling the sofa fabric.
sunghoon’s grin widened as he propped his elbow on the backrest and his chin on the heel of his palm, now facing you. “are you getting shy over a sex scene?” he teased, tilting his head slightly.
“you have a boyfriend, yn, don’t tell me a little sex movie makes you flustered.” he finished, voice dipping just low enough.
slowly, you pulled the cushion away, shooting him a warning glare that was more like a kitten glare to him. “i’m not shy, i—i just didn’t expect that scene, okay?” you waved a hand helplessly at the paused screen, “it’s different watching it.”
sunghoon blinked slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he processed your phrasing. “...watching it…?
you nodded, rolling your eyes. “like—when it’s not theoretical, or—whatever.”
a beat of silence.
then, sunghoon’s lips parted, breath catching in a tiny laugh that slid right down your spine.
“you mean,” he said softly, leaning closer like a predator humoring prey that hadn’t yet realised it was cornered. “when you haven’t done it yet?”
you froze.
your throat worked and nothing came out—you’re not good at lying.
you whispered, barely breathing, “...i wouldn’t know.”
sunghoon still. then, slower than hunger, his head tilted and his lashes lowered. “right,” he murmured, gaze locked on your mouth. the room didn’t feel like a living room anymore. two boys slept inches away, but it felt like just the two of you breathing.
“aren’t you curious?”
you swallowed, pulse fluttering. “i mean… isn’t everyone?” you whispered, eyes fixed somewhere near his collarbone instead of his eyes. “at one point of their life? it’s not like i—” you exhaled, glancing briefly at jay’s hands on his lap. “it’s everything… and i respect his choice.”
sunghoon’s brows lifted. “his choice,” he tasted the words at the tip of his tongue. “and yours?”
you blinked at him, “mine?”
“you respect his,” he leaned just enough that your knees brushed against each other. “but what about you? anyone ever asked you what you want?”
you breath caught, you shifted on your seat, pulling your legs closer to your chest. “that’s not—” you murmured, eyes dropping to sunghoon’s hand playing with the drawstring of his sweats. “i don’t… i don’t want to do anything wrong.”
sunghoon smiled faintly, like he’s coaxing a kitten from under the table.
“wrong?” he echoed, “yn, i’m not talking about… cheating.” he shrugged, brushing the cushion by your knee. “i’m asking if you ever think about learning. understanding, not because you were lacking—” his gaze flicked down to the bobbed in your throat, “but because you’re curious. you deserve to know your body, not just wait for someone else to figure out first.”
your heart skipped.
holy shit.
then sunghoon continued, “there are ways to… explore. to feel without crossing lines you don’t want to cross.”
you stared at your boyfriend’s friend, helpless and burning, brain blank except for the pounding rhythm of your heart, and the heat slowly pooling in your stomach.
“...what are you saying?”
sunghoon’s smiled curled, his fingers pinching and releasing his locks. “i’m saying," he murmured. “you respect him. that’s why you don’t do anything.”
he breathed a soft scoff at the thought—a girl like you existed, perfect in all edges, and yet jay couldn’t give you that one thing you probably wanted in a relationship. his eyes cut toward jay sleeping by your side, before returning to you.
“but if you’re holding back for him…” he leaned in just a fraction, and your pussy twitched—you swore you felt your panties getting wet.
“...what’s stopping you from learning with someone who isn’t asking you to wait?”
your lips parted, breath shaky.
“with me, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
lies.
“hngh, mhh,” you whimpered against his lips—sunghoon pressed his lips against yours, muffling your little moans and whimpers and mewls, one hand sliding down your tummy and beneath your panties.
he slipped his tongue inside yours, tangling and twirling and dancing with your tongue, breath warm and heaty. his rough hand grazed your clit, just airy and barely there bit it elicited a hitched sound from you.
using two fingers to stroke and rub your clit in circular motion, sunghoon dipped his fingers between your labia where he scooped your juice to lather over your cunt. “you’re so wet,” sunghoon murmured, nipping at your earshell.
you shifted on his lap, throwing your head back against his chest, heart shuddering where his hand rubbed your wet pussy. “fuck,” he breathed, feeling his painfully aching cock pressed between your asscheeks.
“are you wet for me, baby?” he continued, licking the curved shell before kissing your concha. you nodded pathetically, both hands holding sunghoon’s other hand that rested on your tummy, anchoring yourself down on his lap.
the way he worked with your cunt left you breathless, fingertip grazing and flicking the little pea, ring and middle fingers dipping just at the entrance where it teased—contemplating if you deserve to be fingered or not.
“d—don’t tease me, sunghoon,” you gasped softly arching your back, which made your ass pressed harder on sunghoon’s bulge. the boy hissed, nipping at the soft skin just below your jaw. “no baby,” he murmured warmly.
again, sunghoon dipped the second crease of his ring inside your pussy, teasing. “call me hoonie and i’ll finger you,” he continued, lapping his tongue on the spot he’d just bitten. you let out a soft moan, squeezing his hand.
nodding, you wanted to rock and buck your hips against his palm, but not sure if that was the right thing to do, so you opted to let sunghoon take the lead. “hoonie, hoonie, please?” you pleaded adorably, just the way sunghoon liked it.
with a light chuckle, continuing a little rubbing on your pussy, sunghoon slid one finger inside your cunt, already making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “hngh,” your body responded nicely, back arching as sunghoon began pumping his finger in and out.
just one and he’s got you folded like origami?
“baby, relax,” he whispered, one hand (still being gripped by your hands) moved to lift your top, letting it rest above your collarbone. sunghoon hooked one finger underneath your bra as he pulled it up, your pretty tits bouncing lewdly.
running his thumb over one perky nipple, it distracted you enough for him to slide another finger in, two fingers already stuffing his tight cunt full. “oh, oh god, hngh—” you whimpered like a kitten, fingers curling around his palm.
sunghoon began moving his fingers to his knuckles, in and out, back and forth, biting his bottom lip at the faint wet noises from your slickness coating his fingers. instinctively, you started rocking your hips against his palm, burying his fingers deeper inside.
“fuck, your pussy’s gripping my fingers,” he moaned as you grinded on his cock. sunghoon didn’t know if that was on purpose, but fuck that felt good. his fingers made a scissoring motion inside of you, stretching you good and nice for something bigger—his desperate, throbbing cock.
leaving a hickey just behind your ear, sunghoon then curled his fingers inside of you, pressing against your gummy soft spot. you whimper a broken moan, head tipping back against his chest. “hoonie, oh there,” you breathed out, guts twisting in your tummy. “right there, please, feels s’good there,”
knowing you were close, sunghoon picked up his pace, fingers started thrusting into you faster and faster, pressing the spot harder as his thumb circled your clit mercilessly, you were making a mess out of his hand, wetting your pants.
his other hand tugged on your nipple where he rolled the bud between his fingerpads, pinching and flicking with his index. “oh shit, hngh, think ‘m cumming, mhh,” you cried out softly, the pressure building up inside of you.
the orgasm hit—you arched your back and squirted on sunghoon’s hand, legs shaking and trembling in sunghoon’s lap. “mh—oh hoonie, ah,” sunghoon gave your pussy a couple more pumping, helping you ride out your high.
once you’ve weakened on him, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy twitched and clamping around nothing—the sudden emptiness. he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean—just his ring finger.
then, he brought his middle, the one that’s still coated with your squirt and juice over to your lips, where he parted them. “taste yourself baby,” he murmured, slipping his finger inside your mouth where you sucked on it.
you rolled your tongue around his finger, bobbing your head—and god if it weren’t for the situation and the place the two of you were going to fuck, sunghoon would definitely make you suck his cock sloppy.
but your boyfriend and heeseung were sleeping just a few feet away—and as much as sunghoon fucking loved—and loved to fuck you—he also loved his position in the team.
besides, there’s always next time.
this wasn’t going to be the last time sunghoon fucked you.
“take out my cock, baby,” he hissed, pulling both your pants and panties down. you shivered at the cold air that made contact with your puffy, wet pussy, shivering under his touch. sunghoon was desperate, there’s a wet patch on his grey sweats from his precum, and he couldn’t be bothered with the foreplay but fuck—
it’s you.
his girl—but you didn’t know that yet—that’s going to get her cherry popped by him. so of course he needed to treat you gently. full of love—prove that he’s better than your boyfriend.
nodding, you backed a little to settle his clothed tent just in front of your pussy. lifting yourself up a little to pull down sunghoon’s sweats and boxes, your eyes widened as his throbbing, angry, needy cock sprung out, slapping your cunt.
precum oozed and trailed down from the tip along the side and it looked scary—scary at how that thing will be stretching and pounding your pussy. you swallowed the lump in your throat, heart thumping. “h—hoonie, you’re so…”
sunghoon chuckled, one hand still toying with your nipple. “yeah, baby,” he groaned, his cock twitching. “i’m gonna mold your insides to the shape of my cock.” he teased, using his free hand to guide your soft hands, making you wrapped your them around his shaft.
it’s so… textured, and so big. “jerk me off a little, baby,” he murmured against your ear where he once again, rolled his tongue around the curve. “pump me a little, make him feel good.”
you nodded obediently, beginning to stroke it. behind you, sunghoon’s breath hitched, you’re lathering his precum around his cock, and using it as lube to make it more slippery. but that wasn’t enough—”spit on it, babe.”
you gathered a blob of saliva in your mouth, letting it fall past your lips as the warm thick liquid landed straight on the head, before it dripped down along your knuckles. “ahh, fuck, so warm,” he rasped, bucking your hips slowly to your grip.
you’re feeling confident at his reaction—you felt good. pumping his cock up and down, up and down, you gave it occasional squeezes where it’s soft, eliciting a rough moan from his chest. his heavy breathing reverberates against your back as your stroked him from the base up to the head.
“feels good, hoonie?” you bit down your lower lip, picking up your pace, his veins dragged against your soft palms. sunghoon nodded pathetically and eagerly, using both hands to fondle your tits like stressballs. “so fucking good, baby just do your thing,”
god, that boosted your ego. you pressed your thumbpad against the tip, rolling around where he’s sensitive. sunghoon bucked his hips instinctively. “there, fuck, there babe,” he breathed out, thrusting into your grip. languid strokes filled the living room, wet and sloshy.
you played around the mushroom head, twirling your thumb, while the other hand stroked him back and forth. sunghoon felt it building up—as he quickened his pace, one last stroke of your hand made him ejaculate, shooting ropes of cum over your knuckles.
“fuckkkkk,” he hissed, as quiet as he could and his balls pumped cum, squeezing your tits like he’s holding himself sane. you let out a soft gasp, this was the first time you’d ever seen a guy cumming up close.
sunghoon tipped his head back as you released your grip around his dick, letting it fall limply and tapping against your pussy. slowly, you looked back over your shoulder. “hoonie… now what?” you murmured so softly and so cutely, sunghoon felt his cock twitch again.
his spine straightened as he leaned forward, pressing his back against you. “what do you wanna do baby?” his lips ghosted over your lips. “tell your hoonie.” he continued, pecking your lips. heat rushed to your face as you bit down your bottom lip.
“i… want your cock inside my pussy,” you whispered shyly, leaning to take his lips in yours. sunghoon grinned, “whatever you want.” he wrapped his hand around his cock to guide it to your pussy, teasingly rubbing the wet head between your pussy lips.
you moan softly, whimpering, “you’re such a tease,” the sensation was not the ideal amount of friction, but teasing felt so good—like the rising action before the climax. sunghoon chuckled, watching as his head collected and mixed with your juices.
“if you let me fuck you like a boyfriend, i’ll fuck you stupid,” he murmured into your ear, teasing you as he slipped in the head, then pulled out. you couldn’t take it anymore—nodding and turning your head to kiss sunghoon on the lips, you were about to do just anything to lose your virginity tonight.
“mmhm—mmhm, please, you can be my boyfriend hoonie,” you pleaded, grinding your pussy along his cock. fuck—that was all that sunghoon’s ever wanted to hear. he’s done playing the side bitch for the last two months.
grabbing ahold of your hip, sunghoon’s cockhead pushed past your entrance where it stretched her again.
“hah—!” you half–whispered, half–gasped, feeling sunghoon’s cock slowly getting buried deeper, and deeper until the curve of your ass made contact with his pelvis. “my fucking goood,” he whined, letting it still for you to adjust yourself, walls clenching at the sudden fullness. “so tight, baby, holy shit,”
you knew he was big, but fuck did he grow inside? you should’ve seen this coming the second his cock sprung out of his sweats.
“i’ll let you move first, baby,” he nipped your jaw, one hand circling your pussy to help you loosened, the other fondling your tit. fuck sunghoon loved your boobs. “don’t wanna hurt my pretty girl,”
you nodded, slowly began grinding back and forth, stirring your hips in circle. “s’big hoonie,” you whimpered, going in all directions. the pace of your grinding gradually picked up as sunghoon started rocking his hips too in short and deep thrusts.
he shifted in his seat, sitting up right and comfortably. then, his hands slid under your things, fingers curling possessively as he lifted you easily, guiding you higher on his lap.
sunghoon began thrusting his cock back and forth, in and out of your wet pussy. so wet it slipped back in perfectly with no resistance. “ah fuck,” he rasped, laboured breathing at your back combined with the wet sounds connecting from where your skins met.
he hefted up your legs, almost pushing them to either side of your head, but your flexibility could only go so far. sunghoon drove into you at a pace, balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every thrust.
you moaned, playing with your own tits as you tried muffling your moans with one hand. this new angle allowed sunghoon to reach and hit deeper inside, knocking on your cervix that it jerked your body upward.
it also just hit you that you were displayed so erotically in front of your sleeping boyfriend and his friend. the second jay fluttered his eyes open—he’d instantly be greeted with the sight of his girlfriend being fucked reverse cowgirl by his own bestfriend.
alcohol couldn’t even be blamed.
“harder, hoonie, deeper,” you drooled, tits bouncing with each pound of sunghoon’s cock. sunghoon obeyed, picking up his pace, his cock was barely seen before it disappeared again, engulfed by your needy pussy.
“shit, i love you so much,” he confessed, licking your saliva that slipped at the corner of your lip. it’s disgusting, but it’s you, so who gave a fuck, really?
sunghoon was pounding into you so hard it felt like he was going to tear your body apart. your g–spot was being stimulated with every graze of his cock. while he felt like his cock was going to burst if you kept clenching and gripping around it like a vice.
his grip on yours was like iron, not letting you move an inch as he did all the work—slamming his cock deep inside you that you swore he was trying to rearrange your guts.
“oh my god, oh god,” you cried out, arching your back as you tipped your head on sunghoon shoulder. his speed increased, and rapidly reaching at a pace he didn’t know existed. “you’re gonna cum baby?” he hummed, mixed with panting and heavy breathing as he kissed your temple.
you nodded, the air was being fucked out of your lungs that it’s hard to even form a simple yes—you squeezed your eyes shut, eyelids fluttering with each time sunghoon’s cock pistoned into you.
“fuck, i’m gonna cum too,” he hissed almost painfully, your walls spasmed around him unforgivingly as you rode out your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hips began to stutter, and so were his grip on your thighs.
“uh huh, hoonie, please, please, cum inside—are you going to cum inside me?”
sunghoon cocked a brow, before a chuckle left his lips. “yn baby,” he licked a long stride of your cheek. “if i give you a creampie, you’ll get knocked up with my baby,” he groaned softly at the thought, slamming his cock.
“smart girls like you should know that we should get married first.”
gosh—you weren’t in your right mind anymore. it was as if sunghoon’s cock had messily scattered all the knowledge inside your brain, he truly was fucking you dumb and stupid.
the tip of his cock kissed your cervix—and with one brutal slam that knocked the air out of your lungs, sunghoon immediately hefted you up, his cock sprung out wobbly and almost instantly, shot out a second round of cum ropes on your tummy.
decorating your pussy with thick white semen, you let out a gush of wetness on sunghoon’s pelvis—your moans being muffled by sunghoon’s hand. he knew you would let out the sexiest sound known to man, but he couldn’t risk you being caught and humiliated.
your legs trembled as sunghoon milked every drop out of his pulsing cock. twitching as they softened on your cunt.
chests heaving and exhausted, you collapsed on sunghoon’s chest. he gently let go of your legs, settling you between his legs as his cock pressed against your bag. “oh my god,” you panted, resting your head against sunghoon’s chest.
he pulled down your shirt before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up slightly closer. nuzzling into the warmth of the crook of your neck, sunghoon gently kissed your skin, rubbing circles on your tummy.
“how’s that. baby?” he hummed, getting all giddy and jittery. you lolled your head lazily, holding his hands that rested on your stomach. “feels s’good…” you mumbled, slowly feeling your eyelids growing heavier.
sunghoon kissed your cheek with a soft mwah—”don’t sleep on me yet,” he murmured, lips grazing your flesh. “still gotta get my girlfriend cleaned up.”
in front of you, jay groaned softly, getting comfortable on the sofa—still not awakened.
this genre of jay would be super manipulative but if you’re not susceptible to his tactics then he’d just do what he wants anyway because he thinks he knows what’s best for you. thinking about heeseung ‘cheating’ on you but maybe he actually didn’t and jay is just spreading rumours.
jay calling you and saying he really needs to talk to you but won’t tell you why. he drives over and makes you sit down on the couch, holding your hands in his, purposely just putting you more and more on edge. when you can’t take it anymore and you just need him to tell you, he does. he lies and says he saw heeseung making out with another girl at the club when they went out together on the weekend. then when you don’t seem upset ‘enough’, he adds that he saw her in hee’s living room when he got up to leave this morning after crashing overnight.
whether you believe him or not, he’s ‘helping’ you ‘cope’ however he sees best. he pushes you onto your back on the couch, trailing his lips down the side of your neck. ‘you deserve better, babygirl, you know that, right?’ but you’re squirming and trying to push him away. you ask him what he’s doing, pleading softly for him to stop, you want to talk to heeseung first, this is all happening too fast… you barely know what ‘this’ is supposed to be.
‘you’re lucky you’re cute because you’re so dumb, i told you heeseung was bad for you from the start.’ jay murmurs against your lips before he forces his tongue into your mouth. he’s acting like he’s your best friend or something, but he’s not… he’s just some guy, a friend of heeseung’s that you’ve met a handful of times.
his hands explore you like he’s mapping out his territory, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh while ignoring your pleas for him to stop. he moves like he’s on auto-pilot, guided only by his innate desire to claim you for himself after however many months of watching heeseung touch you and kiss you in ways he didn’t deserve to.
jay takes his time working you open on his cock, knowing he’s just too big for you to take all at once. ‘not used to my size, huh?’ he’s clearly smug and insinuating heeseung is smaller than him. ‘god, you’re so tight, baby, let me in,’ using his thumb to part your folds as he slowly rocks his hips to press himself deeper inside of you.
you lay back and let it happen, trying to find comfort in the idea of jay taking care of you, forgetting about the nature of your circumstances… every inch he gives you making you forget another detail of his fabricated story. it hurts, to think that heeseung would’ve so carelessly broken your trust like that… so unlike him and not at all the boyfriend you thought you knew, but at least jay is here to make you feel better.
bestfriends share everything, right? even if they go beyond your moral values? when a streamgirl captures the attention of two boys, loyalty becomes optional.
𓊆박성훈 & 심재윤 x fem reader𓊇 well, my girl's in the next room. it's really good to hear your voice saying my name. it sounds so sweet. coming from the lips of an angel. but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful. ─ lips of an angel, hinder ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 first post, first time writing threesome smut! i hope you enjoy ˘͈ᵕ˘͈⸝* if you do, please don't hesitate reblogging and let me know what you think. means so much to me.
word count 8.9k
content advisory cheating/infidelity, jealousy & possessiveness, mind intoxication, manipulation, uncomfortable social dynamics, lowkey toxic friendship & relationship, moral ambiguity, morally grey characters
smut advisory rough fucking, throat & face fucking, mean!dom sunghoon, dom!jakey, light bondage, cowgirl, profanity, dirty talking, light choking, kissing, saliva play, creampie, unprotected sex, voyuerism, cervix fucking, threesome, missionary, cum eating, coercion…? but not really
sunghoon hadn’t meant to find you.
it wasn’t intention, boredom, or hunger that led him there—just a queue timer and a tired brain after too many late–night ranked games.
“fuck!” he slammed his fist on his desk, rattling the empty cans of cola on it. his teammates’ voices kept echoing in his head—how did you fumble that? just uninstall bro. he’d just lost another ranked game to some snobby pay2win underage player, and rather than cursing the shit out of that boy—sunghoon just exited the match halfthrough.
“i’m out, fuck this shit.” he murmured under his breath, leaving the discord call and heeseung hanging and battling by himself. yanking his headphones off, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. he stared at the loading screen, blue light bleeding into his vision.
sunghoon dragged his cursor out of habit, scrolling, unfocused, looking at the insufficient materials he needed to upgrade his weapons, half–thinking about rerunning tutorials, half–thinking about nothing at all.
since there was nothing else to do, he opted to quit for the night, deleting websites—
then he saw it.
a small live icon tucked in the corner of the a “tips on how to ace anivia”—nothing flashy or screaming for attention about it. it’s just an ad titled,
“bored? come chat and watch people around the world! 100% free!”
he scoffed under his breath. yeah, right. free never meant free.
still, he clicked. the screen shifted to a homepage full of random streams—not sexy, yet, but normal people doing normal things.
a guy cooking ramen shirtless in terrible lighting. a girl studying with music in the background as she chatted with her viewers. two friends singing karaoke so off–key sunghoon winced. some dude in a ski mask ranting about crypto. creepy.
this was stupid and weird, but it was entertaining to say the least. people doing their own thing—made sunghoon realised there’s more to life than what he was doing now, or before. raging over some videogame that brings him no benefits.
click. swipe. click.
a girl painting her nails. a man showing how to clean keyboards. someone asleep on stream with thousands watching and spamming emotes.
sunghoon leaned back, scratching his neck, a tired laugh slipping out. “what the hell is the internet anymore…”
he almost closed the tab. almost.
then a different thumbnail slid into view as he scrolled.
soft lighting. warm tones. a blur of skin of tank tops and shorts that hugged curves in the right ways.
purposely seductive? sunghoon couldn’t tell. the title of the stream was: “just chatting for a bit while waiting for my food delivery <3 come hang out.” not “hot camgirl live” or “18+ come play”.
for some reason, sunghoon didn’t think twice before his finger flicked the trackpad and clicked it like instinct.
the stream loaded.
your voice filtered through his speakers—airy, half–whispered like a friend talking to another friend in bed past midnight.
“—yeah, and then i just reported him for the missing assignments. i keep it anonymous though, i didn’t want him finding out it was me who snitched. but it’s valid, right?” you talked to the camera, planting your chin atop the heel of your palm.
a few people commented—agreeing that whoever that guy was, he deserved getting a zero for the group assignment, while some questioned why you didn’t give him a chance to apologise and re–do it.
you skimmed through them, unimpressed, then rolled your eyes. “guys, c’mon,” you sighed, rolling your eyes with mock offense. “he literally ghosted the entire group. not even a single test. you don’t get grace if you don’t even show effort.”
you shifted, straightened up a little, and that’s when sunghoon really saw you—sitting on the bed, knees tucked beneath you, top hiked a little and exposing a sliver of tummy. you didn’t bother pulling it down—sunghoon didn’t think you saw it.
there’s a wool blanket pooled messily behind you, fairy lights blinking tangled over your bedframe.
like every other men—he’s sure of it—sunghoon’s eyes traced the curve of your shoulders, sharp where it needs to be, the fall of your low tied hair, the way you absentmindedly rubbed your thumb over your owala like you weren’t on display to strangers.
as his eyes almost travelled down the curves of your breasts, a soft ding sounded—someone tipping, heart emojis flying.
your eyes widened for a split second before your face broke into a shy smile—and sunghoon’s chest tightened in a way he didn’t like. “oh what—? thank you… user7609! that’s so sweet,” you chuckled as you read the username.
sunghoon exhaled slowly through his nose, shifting on his chair.
god. he hated voices like that—soft, a little playful, almost sticky in the way they clung. if honey could talk, it’d sound like you.
he probably should’ve clicked off and got ready for bed, but instead, sunghoon found himself staying… just a minute more—just a minute longer.
the chatbox spammed again. someone asked if you’ve eaten, someone else asked for a spin. there’s a person who asked where’d you get your top from, and that gave sunghoon another reason to allow his eyes on your… body.
yeah, that crop top really hugged your figure nicely, don’t they?
you ignored almost all the comments you didn’t want to reply, stretching your arms above your head with a tired little groan. “ugh, i need a massage,” you murmured, bending down to the laptop on your bed, chest inclined toward the camera in a careless, unaware sort of way—like someone simply getting comfortable and not… posing.
the angle is unforgiving in all the ways that make strangers glued to their screens.
the rounded collar of your crop top dips slightly with the movement, just enough to expose your cleavage and the little lace bra you were wearing. your cheek pressed to your wrist, eyes half–lidded and unfocused as if you’re talking more to yourself than anyone watching.
sunghoon couldn’t blink. his breath hitched, lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t hear a single thing you were saying.
the chat didn’t help either—people just continued asking about harmless stupid questions like the course you take, how you deal with toxic boyfriend, how do you get your armpits to be so clean—although the last one was probably a fetish question—
sunghoon felt stupid. is he the only one who feels… strangely uncomfortable in the best way? he stared at the screen, almost offended. that’s what they noticed? out of everything in front of them? why was nobody addressing the… elephant in the room?
you made a small, breathy hum as you replied to a question, and it hit him—right at the center of his chest, sinking low and heavy. nobody really gave a fuck—how could it be that he was the only one unraveling from the smallest movement—the way the fabric clung, the breathy was you complained about needing a massage, the curve of your body as you leaned forward?
sunghoon’s finger flicked to the trackpad once again, deciding it was the time to exit the website. yeah, okay. he this was stupid and ridiculous and he didn’t even know you and girls show cleavage all the time—
but then you suddenly glanced up. not at him—just at your macbook lens, just a passing flick of your gaze—but it felt like you looked straight at him.
“ugh,” you exhaled softly, rubbing your bare shoulder. “do you know any good massage place? my back’s killing me.”
it was so innocent and it wasn’t even directed at him. but his stomach dropped anyway—heat sparking low and fast, and he hated how instant it was, how real it felt in his body before his brain could catch up.
oh fuck.
no, no, no—
the chair suddenly felt too small, his sweats too warm and tight, his pulse too loud in his ears. sunghoon shifted, panic flickering through his as realisation hit hard and humiliating and very physical.
jesus christ, get a grip—
sunghoon was getting a hard on, throbbing boner under his pants.
he immediately switched off his pc by the button—the sudden black screen stared back at him, and he stared right back, breathing a little too sharply.
silence.
then, sunghoon dropped his head in his hands and whispered a quiet, furious, “fuck.”
his cock was aching, and he knew he had to do something about it later.
sunghoon also knew this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d see your face.
——
“oh? sunghoon! why aren’t you asleep yet?”
shit.
yeah. so it was hard not coming back to you. that night he shut his pc, showered cold (pained him so bad), called his girlfriend goodnight—sunghoon stared at the ceiling afterwards, convincing himself that this reaction was fine and normal.
that men got boner all the time seeing pretty girls their way.
but he managed to last only two days later when the ad popped again. that same stupid box, same harmless “come chat!” banner, and his mouse hovered a second too long before he clicked. what funny, or humiliating, was that sunghoon tried so hard scrolling through random streams like a man browsing aisles, pretending he wasn’t waiting for that one name to show up.
he watched a guy play chess. clicked on some girl ranting. the same dude giving crypto tips.
doing almost everything and anything to prove he wasn’t here for you. but his fingers moved on their own.
backspace. backspace.
your username typed out with pathetic memory that shouldn’t have existed. just checking, he told himself. just seeing… if she’s live. then i’ll leave.
but you were on live—and you were laughing and your cardigan fall of your shoulder and you had make up on which sunghoon came to a thought that you’d just came back from an outing, and you looked so fucking hot without trying.
and his stomach flipped like a traitor.
shit.
psh0802: i can’t sleep :/ why rnt you sleeping?
you smiled, pushing your glasses up on the bridge of your nose. “i have a test tomorrow,” you murmured, tone playfully suffering. “i’m pretending to study but i think i’m just talking to avoid anxiety. so nervy.” you continued, shifting on your study chair to reach for your laptop to bring it down to show the book on your desk.
sunghoon laughed, you’re so disgustingly cute. with your pyjama and bare face and mannerism. he typed before his brain caught up again.
psh0802: you’ll do fine. you’re a smart girl.
you tapped your pen against your lips, eyes skimming the chat before you nodded, a tiny grin etched across your face.
“you think so?” you hummed, leaning towards the lens. “if i pass… can you buy me coffee? and a new lipstick?” you joked, shrugging and laughing it off with a dramatic sigh following. truth be told, your brain was getting fried since the past six hours of studying.
it was obviously playful—thrown at chat in throwaway line—but it hit sunghoon like a truck anyway.
and before he could stop himself:
psh0802: yeah
his soul left his body. he stared at the comment on the screen and there was no take–backs, no delete feature, no undo button. his ears burned, and he looked around his empty bedroom for anyone.
you blinked, then let out this tiny surprised laugh—soft and almost flattered. “oh? you trust me that much?” you teased, resting your cheek on your palm. “i’ll claim that from you, okie? don’t take back now,”
——
“hey, what are you up to tonight?”
jake is sunghoon’s childhood friend, having been born in the same neighbourhood, attended the same kindergarten, primary, middle, high school, and university—the two were practically inseparable. it’s weird not to say one name, without being followed by the other.
and as if the universe had a sense of humour, they were both dating a pair of bestfriends.
every other two weeks, the two couples tried to carve out time for a double date. a little ritual neither couple had ever broken—until recently.
“uh,” sunghoon glanced at jake, raking his hair back as he set his glasses down. “i have a group discussion.”
it wasn’t a total lie, not technically —there had been a group assignment, but the work was long finished, and the only person sunghoon was actually meeting tonight was you.
something he couldn’t exactly say to jake… not when jake still thought everything between the four of you was perfectly normal.
“at night? it’s friday.” jake frowned slightly, swirling the straw in his drink. “yeah, well—” sunghooon cleared his throat, eyes dropping to the screen of his laptop even though it was already shut. “we couldn’t find a time earlier. everyone’s… schedules are messy.”
sunghoon hated how stiff he sounded. how he was being too careful when there was no reason to—unless he was lying, of course. he reached for his water just to have something to do, taking a sip that didn’t even soothe the dryness in his throat.
to be honest, he could’ve just said he owed a friend a harmless, innocent favour, and jake would probably drop the topic. it’s just a dinner together—friends have dinner all the time, so what’s the crime here?
but he couldn’t.
because to sunghoon, it’s impossible that you were just a friend.
jake raised a brow. “since when do psychology majors grind on a friday night?”
sunghoon forced a quick laugh, shrugging. “hey, people are serious this semester,” he glanced at his friend, cocking a teasing brow. “you should take it seriously too.” he joked, hoping to ease the tension.
not a terrible excuse, but the tip of his ear was already warm. he pushed on before jake could press further. “besides, it’s not a big thing. just finalising slides. i won’t be long.”
that part was a lie. he already knew he’d stay out longer than necessary—he didn’t want the night to end, didn’t want to cut short that rare, casual excuse to see you in real life again.
“man,” jake leaned back, eyeing him. “so no double date tonight?”
sunghoon shook his head, pretending to be disappointed and bummed out by it. he scratched the back of his neck, lips pressed into a tight line. “rain check,” he murmured. “tell jiyoo i’m sorry.”
“alright.”
——
it was supposed to be just a dinner.
a “congratulations” meal. a harmless little reward because you passed, because you’d joked about him buying you something if you did, and he—stupidly, umpulsively—had said yes.
and the day actually came.
the dinner was comfortable, too comfortable. you talked about your exam, how you didn’t think it’d be that easy and you could’ve probably passed without studying ten hours non–stop, how you thought you bombed the question but apparently everyone else did too.
sunghoon listened like there was nothing else to do.
oh and—he never knew how much liked sitting next to a girl compared to being across from them.
you were just like in your streams, if not prettier. better. hotter. the dim lights of your bedroom did your face and skin no justice—they looked so soft in real life, so pretty. and no wonder why you liked talking so much, sunghoon thought, if he was a girl and he had a voice like you, he wouldn’t stop talking either.
when the bowls were empty, neither of you moved to leave. a little silence stretched before you proposed—
“wanna grab a drink?” you asked.
he probably should’ve said no—that the reward had been paid for—but your lips glistened with gloss, and your lashes fluttered when you smiled, and god, sunghoon had never been one that’s good at resisting softness.
“yeah,” he heard himself say. “my place is nearby.”
his voice came out soft and almost careful, he really wished you’d say yes—he could show you his pc set up. the one he’d sit on every night chatting with you.
“we could… continue there. if you want.”
you met his gaze, eyes flicking down to his lips just once—tiny, but enough to make his pulse throb in his neck, and cock twitches a little.
“yeah? that sounds nice.”
so that’s how—
“oh, fuuuuuck…” sunghoon pulled out from your mouth, giving you the chance to breathe. you choked and gagged, a string of saliva connected from your mouth to his huge cock, drenching and coating his shaft with warm slickness.
sunghoon fisted a lock of your hair, tilting up his way. even looking disheveled and messy like this, you were still just so pretty. glossy and smudged lipstick over your lips, flushed cheeks with mascara trailing down them.
swallowing the lump in his throat, sunghoon used his free hand to guide his cock back into your mouth, thrusting to the back of your throat. “mgh—!” you gagged once again when the tip of his long cock hit at the back of your throat, being used like a fleshlight.
“don’t tap out yet baby,” he groaned, feeling his veins glided along your wet tongue. sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut as he excitedly fuck your face. this was the first time that he’s even done this—receiving a fellatio and fucking someone’s throat.
it felt good, real good. sunghoon could get addicted to this.
it frustrated you that you couldn’t touch him the way you wanted—sunghoon had tied your wrists behind your back with your lace scarf, keeping your wrists still. even as your pussy throbbed and begged to be touched—if not fucked—you couldn’t rub it to keep yourself satisfied. the wet, warm patch on sunghoon’s wooden floor was becoming a puddle.
sunghoon kept taunting you as he thrusted his hips upwards and had a hitch in his breath, trying to bury his cock as deep as it could get in your hollow mouth. which—it could only go so far since your mouth was small. it’s cute, sunghoon thought. you were trying so hard not to cry or pass out.
just a month ago he was watching you from his screen, sometimes palming his cock through his sweats—and now he was inches deep inside your mouth, face–fucking your pretty face.
“you act so innocent,” he murmured, kicking his head back into the sofa rest as he bucked his hips into your wet, warm mouth. “when you’re into rough shit like this.” he continued with a groan, holding your head still and buried into the warmth of the base and his balls.
you squirmed and whimpered, the sound sending vibrations up and all over sunghoon’s body. he’s not cruel—sunghoon pulled you out of his cock, and you instantly heaved for air, rolling your eyes back as saliva dripped down your chin.
“you’re such a mess,” sunghoon chuckled, holding the base of his cock as he brought his wet, warm cock all over your face, wetting it some more. you sticked out your tongue and gave his cock kitten licks, wrapping your lips around the side of it, you bobbed your head back and forth—slurping and gulping down your saliva.
sunghoon winced, releasing the grip he had on your hair to smooth down your messy locks—juxtaposed with how he was treating you a second ago—using his other hand to jerk himself off, sunghoon brought his hand up and down, up and down his cock to chase his high, using your face (aside your lips) as a jerk off material.
your doe eyes, flushed face, batting lashes was better than anything sunghoon had laid his eyes on. so sickeningly innocent and adorable, given the situation the two of you were put in. so sexy without trying, so hot despite only one of your tits being spilled out of your bra.
you looked up to sunghoon, making out with the mushroom bulbous head of his cock. twirling your tongue around, you kept your gaze on him. “are you going to cum?” you hummed, kissing the tip. sunghoon hissed, picking up his pace on thrusting his grip.
“y—yeah,” he managed, hips bucking. “beg for it, c’mon, beg for it.” he groaned, trying his best to keep it down. he needed to cum to the sound of your honey drippy voice begging for a facial.
you didn’t bother nodding, using the tip of your tongue to kitten–lick the tip of his cock. “mhm—sunghoonie, i want it, please,” you pleaded, batting your lashes his way. you knew he fucking loved the way your eyes were on him. “cum on my face, make it pretty,”
you licked from the base to the tip, gathering a blob of saliva before letting it fall, gliding across his knuckles. “i want your cum on my face, mh, i want it real bad,”
both sunghoon’s eyes and his cock twitched—”shit! tongue out, pretty, tongue out,” he groaned, spastic thrusts carried him to his release. sunghoon ejaculated and shot out ropes of thick, warm, white semen over your face, landing on your hair, forehead, down to your the flat surface of your tongue and chin.
he huffed and panted, fisting his cock faster and faster as he milked for all he’s worth on your face. he kept his focus on the way you licked around your lips, gathering his precious cum on your tongue before swallowing—your throat bobbing as it entered your tummy.
“fuck, fuck… you’re s’good,” he panted, letting go of his softened cock to cup your cheeks, smothering and smearing and spreading cum on your face. you looked up and giggled, squirming on your wrists. “can you let me go?”
sunghoon looked at you before grinning, shaking his head. you’re on your knees with only your bra on, and there’s a glistening, glossy patch on his floor from your needy cunt. if he released the knot around your wrist, he’s sure you’d instantly start rubbing yourself.
—and then you’ll leave. when will the next time he sees you be?
“nah,” he clicked his tongue. “i don’t think so.” sunghoon pulled you up by your forearm, settling you on his lap where he kept his cock just between your pussy lips. you whimpered, already moving your hips back and forth on his slippery dick.
“make yourself feel good, baby,” he murmured, pulling up your bra to rest it just above your tits. you nodded, grinding and bucking and rolling your hips around it. “f—fuck, hoonie,” you gasped, shaking your ass as your wriggled yourself on him.
his lips parted into a soft moan, bringing his hands up to tug and pinch your perky nipples. his girlfriend could never be as half as what you are—she’d never give him fellatio, would never let him fuck her face, would always be so demanding and needy about needing her cunt stuffed…
but you? not a single complaint, just a whole lot of begging.
“stick out your tongue,” sunghoon ordered, wanting to put that mouth to good use rather than just moaning and whimpering. you nodded, sticking out your tongue obediently. there was still a hint of white on the surface, but sunghoon couldn’t care less.
he literally made a mess out of your face and fucked your throat—you deserved a little kiss.
sunghoon made out with you hungrily and messily. transferring his saliva and accepting yours—sucking your tongue and your lips and clashing his teeth against yours. he even did you a favour of gliding his tongue across your rows of teeth.
“mhh, ngh,” you cried out, grinding on his cock faster as you kissed him, fingers itching to play with your clit. you’re close—you could feel it, but it’s not reaching—your insides twitch like crazy, and even though you’ve grazed your little bud of nerves against sunghoon’s shaft, you needed more.
pulling away just enough for you to speak, your warm breath hits his swollen lips. “don’t you wanna be inside me? don’t wanna fuck my pussy, hoonie?”
sunghoon didn’t even know why such question even left your mouth—fuck, yes he wanted to fuck that pussy stupid—he was just waiting for you to beg for it. so if anything, it made him feel less guilty about screwing someone who’s not his girlfriend…
right? technically, it’s not sunghoon who wanted it.
he did you a favour of guiding his cock towards you entrance, where you slowly sank yourself down, trying to fit in all of his monstrous inches inside. his cock stretched you good—this was the kind of massage your pussy needed.
gasping and arching your back almost instantly, it was as if his cock had bent you—”oh my gosh,” you moaned, swearing you could feel him in your stomach. you began rocking your hips back and forth.
“oh, fuck me, fuck meee,” you warbled pathetically, fingers curling behind your back. “fuck who?” sunghoon chuckled as he grabbed your hips. it’s hard for you to lift and bounce yourself on his cock with no support from your hands, so the boy lifted you off his lap before dropping you, letting you slam down on his cock.
the head nestled and knocked on your cervix as an impact.
you moaned aloud, using the energy that’s left to ride him, your tits bouncing prettily in front of his face. “fuck me! fuck me, hoonie, shit,” you cried out, with each pounding thrusts, it was as if he was knocking the sense of reality out of you.
sunghoon hammered his cock into your cunt, the fapping of his thrusts filled the space. “you’re such a slut, jesus,” he hissed, glancing down at your puffy cunt. it’s sucking his cock like your mouth, appear and disappear within milliseconds as you bounced on it.
spitting on his hand, sunghoon brought his fingers down where he spread your folds apart, exposing your little clit. he flicked his index finger on it, before sliding his finger between the inner lips, rubbing your bladder opening.
you gasped—everything was so stimulating, sunghoon was using almost all his body parts to use—one hand on your cunt, another one your tit. he took in the way you looked on top of him—flushed face, half–lidded eyes as your pupils rolled back like hentai girls, puffy lips from the kissing and sucking and biting, traces of his cum almost drying on your cheeks and lashes.
so sluttily pretty. it’s disgusting. sunghoon gets off to the look that you have on your face.
“do you fuck every guy that buys you shit, yn? is that it?” he asked, each syllable followed with a sharp, jealous thrust. if you weren’t busy getting pounded, you’d reply to him with a teasing smirk and a—why? you jealous?—but that wasn’t the case, so you managed a different, honest, answer, “n—no, only you, only you, hoonie,”
sunghoon wasn’t expecting that answer, but his chest was blooming with something warm. his cock dragged against the sensitive tissue of your entrance, your velvety walls clinging around his cock as he pulled it back.
his thrusts were merciless and rougher than before which got you wondering if your reply was wrong, the curve of his cock hitting the deepest part of you. sunghoon moved his hand on your tits to wrap around your neck, tilting your jaw up his way as he pounded your cervix.
“really?” he clicked his tongue, almost flattered. you tried your best nodding, but bouncing on his cock resulted in a nod anyway. “that’s so fucking cute, baby,” he grinned, blood rushing over his cheek where he stilled, cock balls deep as he watched it bulge from underneath your tummy.
you rolled your eyes back, body stiffening and tensing up. his huge cock nestled so deep inside you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. “‘m going to creampie this tight pussy,” he groaned, tightening his grip around your neck.
you were blossoming with excitement and it only encouraged you to squeeze him tighter, rolling and rocking your hips on his lap. the sofa squeaked with each thrusts and bounce, showing you no mercy as he fucked the spongy spot.
“wanna cum, wanna cum, please, please,” you whimpered and sobbed, trying to fling your head back but couldn’t due to his grip around your neck. he groaned and nodded, hips stuttering. his cock was throbbing as your walls spasmed around it, wanting to squeeze the milk out of him.
with no true rhythm to his thrusts, sunghoon was just chasing his high. “yeah? fuck, fucking cum,” he hissed—and that was it. you contracting walls pushed sunghoon over the edge as he spurted his cum inside you, straight up filling your womb with warmth.
“mhhh…” you whimpered pathetically as you dropped your head on sunghoon’s wrist, his milk leaking from your fucked hole.
as he came down, he slumped back in his seat, letting go of his grip around your neck and settling your face on his chest. both of you were sweaty and slicked with sweat, saliva, and cum—but neither seemed to care that much.
rubbing your hair lovingly, sunghoon kissed the top of your head before his lips travelled to your temple.
“there’s someone i want you to meet.”
——
jake always stood his morals strongly. meaning that, if something was against his better sense of judgement—he wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t slip, wouldn’t let things “just happen” because the moment felt good.
a lot admired that about him. envied it, sometimes—to have something you stood by no matter what.
but what they didn’t know was that sometimes, there were also things he simply… looked away from. not because he didn’t care. but because caring—really caring—felt like dragging someone you love out into the light and watching them burn in it.
jake loved sunghoon, truly.
so when sunghoon sat jake down on his seat as he navigated his cursor, it didn’t feel wrong yet.
just two boys in a dim room, screens glowing, the low hum of sunghoon’s pc filling the silence between casual talks. sunghoon leaned over jake’s shoulder, breath shallow with a kind of jittery anticipation he probably thought he was hiding well.
“hold on,” he muttered, scrolling. jake raised an eyebrow. “you’re acting weird. don’t show me weird thin—”
click.
“you gotta see this girl,” and there you were—perched on your bed, wearing yet another ribbon tank top, showing off the latest page of your journal you crafted to the screen.
jake frowned slightly, glancing at sunghoon who had a boyish smile on his face. he looked back at the screen, now you were talking about something that needed context.
“... alright…?” he murmured, not fully understanding the situation yet.
“wait, listen—” sunghoon said quickly, leaning in, elbow brushing jake’s arm. he almost sounded giddy—like he’s showing you off to jake.
on screen, you brushed your hair back, scooting closer to the camera. “what do you guys think? i really want to be those girls online that are soo creative in journaling but my brain only goes so fa—”
jake blinked, still confused and puzzled on what he was supposed to catch here. he shifted on sunghoon’s chair, glancing at his friend. “so you… watch her journal?” he asked, cautious, testing the waters.
sunghoon scoffed softly, eyes never leaving you. “it’s not just that,” he said. “she talks funny. and she’s cute. you don’t think so?”
jake exhaled, crossing his arms. “i mean—yeah? she’s cute but so what? you have a girlfriend.”
sunghoon froze, before his eyes finally landed on jake. he didn’t look offended—or he did, a little bit. but he just shrugged it off. “ay, it’s not like that,” he muttered too fast, like he didn’t want to think too much of it. “i’m just… watching.”
the blonde hummed, cocking his eyebrow as he watched your stream. someone tipped you a 10$ note with a heart sticker.
he watched the casual intimacy of it—the softness and the comfortness and understood what one would get out of watching streams like this. a companion, if you’re lonely.
beside him, sunghoon tapped nervously at his keyboard. he swallowed the lump in his throat, then, like an impulsive instinct snapping into control, he leaned in.
good things… must be shared, right?
“do you…” he hesitated once—”... wanna meet her?”
jake was taken aback as he looked at sunghoon, frowning. “what? for what?”
sunghoon’s tongue wet his lips, eyes flicking between the girl he fucked, and his bestfriend. “she’s actually a friend,” sunghoon said, canines dragging his bottom lip. jake’s brows furrowed deeper. “a friend?”
“since when?”
sunghoon swallowed, throat tight. his fingers curled at the edge of his desk. “just a little while. it just happened.” his voice cracked slightly. “she’s cool, really.”
jake stared at him. really stared. sunghoon wouldn’t meet his eyes, and there was a twitch in his jaw. he didn’t know the full truth, but why would sunghoon… showed a live stream of a girl who was supposedly just a friend? why even show?
“does sooha know about your new friend?” jake asked quietly, tension formed between his brows.
you laughed softly on the stream, nudging your laptop down a little to show your scattered desk—but what jake saw when he glanced over briefly was your pretty cleavage popping—and he instantly got the idea why sunghoon showed you to him.
“come on, she’s just a friend.”
——
“oh—hey!” you greeted them. your eyes widened for a second, surprise flickering as your eyes landed on sunghoon’s friend behind him. you were wearing mismatched socks, short sleeved top, and thighs–length shorts. so casual, so homey.
sunghoon smiled, all twitchy and boyish. “hey,” he replied, already taking off his shoes as you opened the door wider. “hope we’re not too early.”
you shook aside, stepping aside to let them in with that bright, unbothered grin. “no, you’re good. i just made tea,” you stood by the door as jake stepped in too, taking off his shoes. “or coffee, whichever you want.”
you padded into the kitchen, humming under your breath, and sunghoon immediately made himself at home—sprawling on your couch. jake lingered, stiff and uncomfortable, hovering behind the armrest with his hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets.
sunghoon shot him a look over his shoulder. “dude, come sit here.” he patted the empty space next to him. jake slowly lowered himself onto the couch, knees pressed together, posture painfully torture. “this feels intrusi—”
from the kitchen, you called out, “sunghoon, coffee, okay? and uh—what does jake want?” your voice was light and breezy like it’s so fucking normal to have two guys over. and sunghoon—why the fuck was he so comfortable being here, in another girl’s apartment anyway?
“uh, coffee’s fine!”
jake flinched slightly, leaning slightly toward sunghoon. “she knows who i am?”
sunghoon nodded, eyes still lazily on the tv. “yeah. i told her.”
jake’s brows pulled together. “told her what?”
“dunno,” sunghoon said, a shrug rolling off his shoulder. “that you’re jake.”
jake frowned, leaning back against the backrest. “that’s not helpful.”
sunghoon didn’t get to answer because you bounced back in with two mugs and a little plate of snacks, placing them carefully on the coffee table. just as you were about to settle onto the ottoman, sunghoon suddenly shifted.
a quick shuffled, he made space, directly between them. “sit here,” he murmured, looking up at you. jake’s eyes widened in alarm but he didn’t get to say anything when you brushed hair from your cheek—and settled between jake and sunghoon.
the sofa was ridiculously small. not that small, but assuming that you live alone and didn’t often host, the two–seater (technically) were for people who didn’t mind brushing knees and sharing body heat.
and jake… minded.
but he sat anyway, suddenly too aware of his own limbs, too aware he should’ve stood up out of courtesy—because god, this was crossing a line—but he didn’t want to look rude, or dramatic. it wasn’t as if there was clear evidence that you and sunghoon fucked, and so far, you’ve been pretty sweet,
so he stayed frozen, trying not to notice your thigh warm against his.
sunghoon, in contrast, looked like he’d melted into the couch, elbow stretched behind you on the cushion, your shoulder brushing his chest when you shifted. sunghoon wasn’t like this. he was controlled and private and loyal.
if a situation toed some moral line, he usually didn’t even toe it—he stepped back.
“so,” you said brightly, oblivious, or pretending to be. “did you guys eat dinner yet?”
sunghoon glanced at you, lips twitching. “not yet,” he hummed. “we kinda came straight here.”
jake nodded absently, eyes fixed on the rising steam of his mug. they had eaten late lunch, technically. just… not anything you’d say out loud here.
“oh?” you brightened, leaning forward slightly to face sunghoon. “that’s nice, then! i just ordered chicken and beer for us, actually.”
jake hadn’t agreed to us. but sunghoon on the other hand, lit up. “no way,” he grinned. “you’re kidding.”
“nope,” you chirped, giggling. “it arrived before you guys got here,” your knee brushed sunghoon as you shifted. “i figured you didn’t have dinner, so i just ordered in advance.”
jake watched it happen—the little touches of sunghoon’s fingertips grazing your shoulder, the glances, that stupid flutter of a smile sunghoon wore on his face. and then your fingers wrapped around your mug again, nails tapping the ceramic as you turned to jake.
“beer makes everything more fun, right?” you giggled.
jake etched an awkward smile, nodding. sunghoon scoffed, elbow nudging your side. “you get so friendly when you drink.”
“and you get clingy,” you shot back with a playful roll of your eyes.
jake’s jaw tightened and he leaned forward to get a look of both you and sunghoon. “what, you guys drink together a lot?” he asked, tone flat but eyes sharp, peeling through the silence.
“sometimes, when he visits.”
sunghoon’s fingers drummed lazily on the couch cushion behind you, gaze heavy on your even as he replied, tone casual but threaded with something jake didn’t really like.
“yeah… it’s comfortable here.”
he should’ve stopped sunghoon the first time he mentioned you.
——
time passed too easily.
now the three of you sat around your tiny coffee table on the carpet, plates pushed aside. beer sweats down glass and the room hums with background dialogues and something hotter.
sunghoon and you sat shoulder–to–shoulder on one side.
jake alone across.
it looked normal, but it did not feel normal.
you giggled at something sunghoon whispered into your ear—too close, his breath stirring into your hair. your hand smacked his arm, playful, and tipsy. “stop,” you giggled, leaning into him, cheek briefly brushing his shoulder.
jake stared at his drink.
sunghoon poured you more beer. you nudged his thigh with your knee in thanks. sunghoon smirked.
jake cleared his throat.
“so… how long have you guys—” he gestured vaguely, bottle dangling between fingers, “—been hanging out like this?”
your lips parted, ready to answer honestly, but sunghoon beat you to it.
“not long,” he said. “just–recently.”
jake’s gaze flicked down to your knees touching. then his eyes slid to sunghoon’s hand resting casually behind you. a little too close to your shoulder. “mmm,” he swirled his beer. “looks like you’ve gotten pretty close.”
you blinked once, then smiled—sweet and tipsy. “he’s easy to talk to.”
sunghoon glanced at you, mouth softening, fond in a way he shouldn’t be. then, too casually, he murmured, “she’s easy to like.”
jake frowned, taking another long pull of beer, trying to drown the warning bell that rang in his head. this wasn’t just against his moral values—this was so fucking far from it. in what situation would it even be okay for two men with partners to be in another space with another girl?
when jake lowered the bottle—
sunghoon was already leaning in.
it happened stupidly fast, but also like it had been obviously building all night. jake froze, bottle hovering mid–air, breath caught somewhere between his chest and throat.
the kiss deepened. sunghoon cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like you were precious and his. your hands slid to the back of sunghoon’s neck. sooha’s boyfriend exhaled into your mouth, hungry and needy now, lips moving with growing urgency against yours.
jake couldn’t move a single inch as much as he wanted to—and he couldn’t avert his gaze away from the two of you that were getting more and more touchy and handsy with one another.
sunghoon’s hand travelled up to your tit when he squeezed the soft flesh, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. and almost instantly, his hand slipped beneath your top. the hem lifted the slightest, fabric tugging. jake watched as his bestfriend’s fingers splayed over your bra, squeezing and fondling.
“hngh, hoonie,” you moaned, tipping your head to the side as sunghoon dived into the warmth of your neck. sunghoon nipped his lips against your soft skin, tugging and grazing his canines. “you’re so whimpery,” he murmured, pushing your bra up under your shirt.
jake’s froze, his breath stilled. he couldn’t see your tits, but he saw sunghoon’s hand on it as he squeezed, fondled, and brushed his thumb against your nipple. sunghoon gently pushed you back on the floor but you didn’t lay fully, supporting yourself with your elbow.
sunghoon hovered above you, settling one knee between your folded legs. his knee grazed against your clothed pussy where he continued rubbing it. “mh, hoonie, jake is—jake’s—” you stuttered, words caught in your throat as sunghoon kissed the soft curve of your throat.
the man glanced briefly at his bestfriend before looking up at you, releasing your tit from his hand. when your shirt falls back, jake could see the outline of your breasts, the perky and hard nipples peeking through the fabric.
fuck,
jake shifted uncomfortably.
“just let him,” sunghoon murmured softly against your collarbone as his hand glided down, slipping underneath your shorts. your back arched slightly at the contact, nipping your head back. “hngh—” you breathed out.
sunghoon began massaging and rubbing his fingers over your pussy, wetting your shorts at your growing arousal. he rubbed circles into your clit, pressing, dragging the skin back and forth. “fuck, hoonie, there—” you moaned.
slipping a finger inside, sunghoon started pumping it back and forth, feeling the texture of your gummy walls against his fingerpad. he slipped another, his ring finger—stretching your little pussy before taking him—and jake—or just him.
“so tight,” he murmured, marking your neck like canvas. you’re tightening around his fingers, muscles clenching. his fingers work faster and deeper, pressing into the soft sensitive spot inside. your body is filled with heat that seeps through.
“please, hngh, ‘m close,” you tipped your head back, rocking your hips into his palm to chase your orgasm. sunghoon thrusted his fingers in and out, relishing the wet squelching noises that filled jake’s ears.
it didn’t take you long to release—squirting all over sunghoon’s hand and wetting your shorts and the carpet in progress. “shit, hoonie!” you cried as you squirtied your clear juice. sunghoon scoffed, still pumping for a little while before withdrawing his fingers, bringing them out of your shorts.
your pussy twitched at the sudden emptiness, hips stuttering. the boy brought his fingers up to his lips to taste. the taste of your arousal was nothing short of intoxicating.
with shaking hands, just as he unbuckled his belt—
“sunghoon,”
sunghoon glanced at jake from the corner of his eyes.
“you need to stop.”
the corner of his lips upturned into a sly smirk as he continued undoing his belt, taking it off. he shook his head as he unbuttoned his jeans, pulling that down too, leaving him in just his calvin.
“can’t,” he murmured, pulling you by your ankle where he settled closer to you. sunghoon fumbled with his boxer, pulling it down just enough that his massive length thudded against his stomach. “don’t want to.”
it’s nothing jake hadn’t seen before, obviously, but he still looked away.
jake heard the fabric rustling of your shorts being pulled down, and the little squeak of excitement you let out—followed by sunghoon’s small chuckle.
he frowned, swallowing the lump in his throat. they were really going to do it in front of him? what the fuck? was jake going to watch his bestfriend of 20 years fucking cheating on his girlfriend—who is his girlfriend’s bestfriend—right in front of him?
sunghoon guided his cock, gliding the head between your wet folds a couple times, collecting slickness along your slit. “no teasy~” you giggled. the boy hummed before he slipped his cock toward your entrance.
both of you simultaneously moaned as sunghoon’s cock fluidly stretched your tight cunt. he didn’t move right away, giving you some time to adjust, letting your pussy clenched and released around his cock.
“so fucking tight,” sunghoon muttered under his breath before thrusting, sliding his hard cock back and forth your pussy. you moaned aloud, arching your back as sunghoon picked up his pace, meeting skin to skin. “god, you’re so big, hngh,”
jake awkwardly looked everywhere but the two of you, shifting uncomfortable as his cock was slowly growing hard. your lewd moans, sunghoon’s dirty talking, and just the obscene noises that was filling up the room was enough to get him aroused.
sunghoon glanced at his friend and chuckled drily, hammering the tip of his cock against your cervix—eliciting short, cut off, cute moans out of you. “ah—ah, hngh! so deep, hoonie!”
jake’s ears grew warm, he only ever heard girls moaning like that in porn, not real life.
“jaeyun,” sunghoon hummed, engulfing himself in your pussy. he barely pulled back, just rocking his hips back and forth. jake didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on the carpet as his hands in front of him in an attempt to hide the tent in his pants.
“it feels s’good,” he continued with a hiss, dragging his shaft before slamming back inside, almost jerking your body forward. “just give it a try, we’ve never done this before,” sunghoon swallowed the lump in his throat.
jake finally mustered up his courage to peek—and he wished he didn’t. your back was arched so sexily, eyes half–lidded and rolled back, lips parted so cutely with drool on the side of your mouth—his cock was oozing with precum staining his pants.
this was far beyond his moral values—but, fuck,
and sunghoon was fucking you so passionately. he’s moaning and hissing and groaning as he thrusted you with rhythm, balls smacking against the curve of your ass. it looked so… amazing. it looked so good. sunghoon’s fucking you like you’ve got the best pussy in the world.
“s—so deep, fuck, your cock is so big,” you mewled with a giggle, resting your hands atop of sunghoon’s on your hips as he held you down on the carpet. the boy smirked, pounding your pussy with no mercy.
“really baby? say it, say it loud. tell jake how much you love my fucking cock.”
you gasped as the head of his cock knocked your cervix. tilting your head slightly to the side where you met jake’s eyes, you licked around your lips, lashes fluttering. “i—i love your cock s’much, hoonie, hngh,” you moaned, biting your bottom lip to suppress noises.
it didn’t help that your gaze fell on jake’s bulge he was desperately trying to hide. with an innocent smile, you looked up to him. “sunghoon’s cock is so big… i bet yours is too, jakey,” you continued, and just like that, your attention was back on sunghoon who picked up his pace in pounding you like he was proud on what you’d just done.
jake’s eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights and there were tugs at his heart—one telling him the obvious—not to do it, it’s against his better sense, and he has a girlfriend, for fucks sake!
but the other—seeing how good and in heaven his bestfriend was, how that pussy was clamping around his cock like vice, it should be okay, right? if sunghoon was doing it, he could too, right?
without realising, jake was crawling towards the two of you, settling above your head.
“oh?” sunghoon chuckled, snapping his hips hard that your head brushed against jake’s bulge. “her mouth is so warm, jake, you should give it a try.” sunghoon commented, nudging his chin. jake’s eyebrows twitched, how would sunghoon know that, if it wasn’t from experience?
“shut up…” jake murmured, fumbling with his belt as he pulled down everything. his throbbing, aching cock sprung out, casting shadow over your pretty face. your lips parted and a gasp escaped you.
much like sunghoon, jake was huge. they really are bestfriends, aren’t they?
the blonde wrapped his hand around the base as he guided the tip towards your mouth where you gave it a soft kiss. he didn’t need to tell you what you need to do—you stuck out your tongue, licking the precum off the hole. “shit,” jake hissed, using his other hand to caress your cheek.
after a few kitten licks, you wrapped your luscious lips around the mushroom head, the position was a little hard to move but you managed anyway—bobbing your head back and forth as your tongue swirled around the head.
sunghoon pounded into you shamelessly, keeping his eyes on his pretty stream girl sucking off his bestfriend. he felt oddly… proud. “oh, fuck, you really are a slut,” sunghoon grunted, hand roughly collded with your asscheek that it echoed off the walls.
the moan reverberated around jake’s cock and he let out a moan. pulling your shirt up, he squeezed your tits, running his thumb and flicking your perky nipple. you took jake deeper inside your mouth, salvaging his member with warmth.
“god damn,” jake moaned, rocking his hips as he began thrusting and fucking your mouth like fleshlight. he fondled your tits, squeezing and tugging like stressballs. his fingertips rubbed your nipple in between, making them red and puffy.
sunghoon’s nails dug into your hips as he pounded into you. “fuck, do you like that? like having both your pussy and mouth full?” he groaned, reaching a hand to toy with your clit. you whimpered, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.
jake started face–fucking you, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you tightened up instantly at that, earning a hissed and winced from sunghoon. “oh fuck, jake keep fucking her throat. she gets really fucking tight,”
jake smirked, holding his cock there against the back of your throat. the blonde rocked his hips in rhythm, excitedly fucking your face as his hand slapped your tit, jiggling it. your walls clenched around sunghoon, so tight he felt like you were trying to cut his cock off.
“shit, babe, so fucking good,” he slammed and snapped his hips brutally, one hand slapping your asscheeks. the flesh wriggled underneath you. sunghoon continued pounding your cervix, feeling himself closer to the edge. he couldn’t move his eyes off you, getting sickly turned on at the sight of you getting face fucked by his bestfriend.
not just anyone—but his bestfriend.
the feeling of you mouth was everything jake ever dreamed of and more. his wildest fantasies couldn’t even make him prepare for the real thing. you’re so warm and so wet and so good—”yn, i’m going to cum, fuck,” he rasped, squeezing your cheeks together. “you’re going to swallow it all, fuck, fuck,”
fucking your mouth, jake buried his inches deep inside your throat, the curve of his cock fitting nicely in the tunnel. his thrusts carried him to his release as he unloaded, shooting out ropes of cum down your throat. you tensed and tightened up—pussy clamping around sunghoon, that drove him over the edge too.
sunghoon’s balls smacked against you with powerful thrusts, cock tip delved so deep his thick heated cum surged within your pussy. “fuck! take it, take it, baby, take my fucking cum,” he held his cock inside you, occasionally jerking his hips in response to the aftershock of sensitivity.
you were stuffed from the top and bottom, mouth full bubbling of jake’s thick cum, and pussy oozing out sunghoon’s creamy milk.
for a little while both bestfriends didn’t move, letting their cocks buried in your holes. then, slowly, jake pulled out, followed by sunghoon. there was a string of cum connecting his tip to your pussy, and jake’s tip to your lip.
“hngh,” you swallowed jake’s cum, your throat bobbed as it entered your tummy. your pussy clamped and clenched around nothing, feeling his cum trickling down the thin skin down to the carpet.
sunghoon being himself again, scooped the leftover cum before feeding it to you, slipping his two fingers past your lips before letting you suck it. “yummier than jake?” he teased, in which you rolled your eyes in response.
jake, being the gentle boy he is, pulled down your bra and your shirt, using his thumb to wipe away the cum and saliva off your lips and chin and wiped it on his pants. sunghoon pulled your panties and shorts up, caressing your hips.
you sat up, arching your back. sitting up against the wall. “ugh,” you groaned, stretching your arms above your head. sunghoon grinned before settling next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.
the scene looked like homemade low quality porn—but the kind of sex that’s so good it’s better than production ones.
“sorry, baby,” sunghoon said, caressing the side of your head. jake simply watched, fiddling with his own fingers. your eyes averted toward him, where you reached just enough to take his hand in yours, pulling him towards the two of you.
“it’s okay, jakey,” you smiled innocently, resting your cheek against jake’s shoulder. sunghoon pouted before doing the same—pressing his cheek against your forearm. jake glanced at you, guilt swimming in his eyes.
“what your girlfriend doesn’t know, won’t kill you.”
summary: you should be used to your relationships failing by now, but after finding out your boyfriend, yeonjun, cheated on you, you're devastated yet again. and beomgyu, your best friend, is there to pick up the pieces, just like always. but isn't it a little odd that things just never seem to work out?
genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), yandere
warnings: YANDERE!GYU, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT (MDNI!) creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, degradation, if i missed anything pls lmk!
word count: 5.1k
notes: ... hi. i'm reposting this with major edits but i hope you all still like it!
｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡ ｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡
do you love your boyfriend? of course. do you trust him? of course. so are you surprised to see a photo of him very clearly making out with another woman? well, of course.
your friends, your family, and even passersby would simply tell you you shouldn’t be, though. yeonjun used to be very well known for his sexual escapades, so when you announced he was your boyfriend, nobody was particularly happy for you. especially not your best friend in the whole world, beomgyu.
“he’s just gonna hurt you, just like the last one!”
you remember flinching at this. you remember how hurt and indignant you felt at the time. you also remember the silent treatment you gave him, and the cold war that began shortly thereafter. he apologized afterwards, of course, but you had asked him what was so bad about you that he couldn’t just believe that yeonjun had changed for you. he was silent at this, which only made you even angrier. it was all pointless in the end, you suppose.
as you sit on beomgyu’s couch, your phone rings again. you have a special ringtone for yeonjun, so you don’t even bother to check the caller id before you silence it. he’s been calling you incessantly since you texted him that you saw the picture and were done with him. your face is downcast and if you weren't so consumed by your sadness, you'd notice the faint look of delight in beomgyu’s eyes.
“i think you should just block him,” he says as nonchalantly as he can muster. maybe in another state of mind, you'd register the satisfaction in his tone, but right now? all you can sense is his urgency, which can easily be explained away by selfless and sincere concern. just how he likes it.
“you’re right,” you sigh. “i guess i just don’t understand. things were going so well, and then he goes and does this to me. i don’t know what i did wrong,” you say while burying your face in your hands. he almost can’t control the way his lips want to curl up at this, but he’s become nothing if not a master of containing his true emotions. he’s kept them from your prying eyes for years, after all.
“aww, baby. it’s not you, it’s him. he’s just not the right guy for you,” he coos, but for some reason, you can’t help but be annoyed at his kindness.
“i know you want to say i told you so, so say it,” you snap, pulling your face from your hands and scowling at him.
“i don’t want —”
“if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it, alright? i don't need to be taught again,” you say with a huff. you know you’re being unreasonable. you know you’re being a bitch, but you just can’t help it. who told beomgyu to be right about your potential partners all the damn time? fuck his crazy-accurate intuition.
he looks genuinely hurt by your harsh words, though, so you can’t help but feel a wave of regret wash over you. you’re drowning in it, even, as you watch his puppy eyes gloss over.
“beomie, baby, i’m so sorry,” you say, gently grabbing his face with one hand and pushing his long hair behind his ear with the other. “i know i’m being awful to you when you’re just trying to help.”
“it’s okay,” he says solemnly, looking like a kicked puppy. “as long as you’re sorry.” somehow, his easy acceptance of your apology makes you feel even worse. you pull him in for a hug and he buries his face in your neck to a) soak up your scent and b) hide his growing smirk. but you’re too caught up in your feelings to notice.
“it’s really okay,” he assures once you part.
“no, it isn’t. i’m being a shitty friend. how about you stay over tonight? we can watch a movie and i’ll order something for us to eat,” you suggest. he graciously accepts your peace offering and the night is spent with giggles and an overt amount of cuddling.
as you’re drifting off to sleep, you feel beomgyu plant a kiss on your forehead. to anyone else, this might come across as oddly intimate, but you know better. people have said that you two would make a good couple, but you two do nothing but laugh it off every time. they just don’t understand your dynamic. he’s a man like any other, you guess, but seeing him as anything other than a friend is simply laughable. you know he feels the same exact way about you, too, which is why you are unfazed by his next words.
“i love you. it’s just — i just love you so much, you know?” he whispers.
“aww, beomie. you know i love you, too. you’re my best friend in the whole world,” you murmur as sleep finally overcomes you.
if the lights were on, you’d see how his face falls and contorts into something like a grimace.
-
yeonjun has been spamming you like crazy, so you listen to beomgyu and block his number as well as his social media accounts. you think this whole chapter of your life is over, but, as always, you are wrong.
a week or so after your messy breakup, a sudden knock at your door pulls your attention away from mindless scrolling on your phone. you don't think much of it — it’s probably just beomgyu with some takeout, or something. however, when you look through the peephole, you realize that yeonjun is not finished bothering you just yet.
“baby, please. i know you’re there. please, just open up. i’ll explain everything!” he pleads. you’re not particularly known for your callousness of heart, so it doesn’t take much more begging for you to feel guilty and let him in. you open your door with a sigh.
“thank you!” yeonjun says with a look of pure relief as he hurriedly enters your apartment. he takes a seat on your couch (unprompted, you might add) and takes a shaky breath. you cautiously seat yourself on the other end of the couch and prepare to listen to whatever bullshit he has conjured up for your viewing pleasure before you decide that it’s best just to cut to the chase. ripping the band-aid off, and all that.
“look, i don’t care that you’re sorry. there’s nothing you can say to make me change my —”
“it was beomgyu!” he exclaims before you can get another word out.
“... what?” you ask confusedly. where the hell is he going with this?
“the girl, the picture, fucking everything was all his fucking fault. he did it,” he rants. oh. he must think you’re fucking stupid.
“yeonjun, please don’t waste my time,” you sigh. “i think you should leave,” you add, getting up from your seat.
“wait!” he pleads, reaching for your hand and gently pulling you back down. “remember how i always told you that i had a weird feeling about him? like how something always felt… off?” oh well. if he wants to continue putting on a show, then so be it. besides, it’ll be a funny story to tell beomgyu later on.
you nod.
“well, he always looked at me weirdly. like, whenever i’d walk into the room, there was always this… this tension and i never knew why, but i understood it as soon as we made things official. it’s because he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment and yeonjun actually thinks he’s getting through to you before you burst into near-maniacal laughter. his face falls.
“beomgyu? beomgyu likes me?” you say between giggles. beomgyu loves you like a sister. no way in hell does he harbor a shred of romantic love for you.
“you’re not listening,” he grunts, slightly tugging at his own hair in frustration. “he’s always been weird, and the other night at the bar, he introduced me to that girl you saw me ‘kissing’. they kept giving me drinks until i could barely fucking see straight. then she kept coming onto me, but i said no. i finally told her to kick rocks, but the next thing i knew was that she was kissing me. i know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.” you want to dismiss everything he’s saying, but his utter sincerity seems to strike a chord within you. you can’t say you believe him, but he continues before you can properly digest his words.
“think about it. why the hell would i cheat in such a public place where all of our friends hang out? don't you think i would be smarter than that? and even if i wasn't, you know me. you know i would never cheat on you.” he seems desperate now, but it’s still hard to believe that beomgyu orchestrated this entire thing instead of the very real possibility that yeonjun just got drunk and acted recklessly.
“alright, this isn’t funny anymore. you need to stop,” you warn, not liking how much he’s making sense.
“think,” he repeats with conviction.
so you do. you think back to all of the tumultuous relationships you’ve had until now. they've all ended in different ways, yes, but they all had one common denominator: beomgyu. oh, beomgyu saw your boyfriend getting cozy with his ex. you’re having an argument with your boyfriend? beomgyu thinks he’s a piece of shit because of how he treats you, you obviously deserve better! wait, your boyfriend keeps taking too long to text you back? he’s just losing interest! it’s clearly better to break it off now rather than getting too invested when you’re inevitably going to break up, anyway. and all the other greatest hits. your face twists from focused to horrified as the realization sinks into your bones. it's beomgyu. it’s always been beomgyu.
you look to yeonjun with pure shock in your eyes and he meets your gaze with a look of sympathy. you finally get it.
“junie, i’m so sorry,” you say, tears springing into your eyes. “i’m so sorry i doubted you.”
“it’s okay,” he replies with a melancholy smile. “he manipulated you.”
“does… does that mean we’re back together now?” you ask, voice tinged with hope. his smile falters at your question, and you feel a sense of dread.
“i need some time,” he says after a pause, dropping his hand from yours. “you really hurt me. i understand that beomgyu manipulated you, but it really hurts that you didn't trust me, you know?”
“i understand,” you quietly reply. you’d be hurt if the tables were turned — it’s only natural. you just hope to god above that you haven’t let beomgyu ruin another good thing for you.
-
beomgyu is confused as to why you’ve been ignoring him for the better part of a week. you don’t respond when he texts or calls, and his intuition is telling him that it has something to do with yeonjun. maybe you’re just shutting down because of the breakup? it was particularly brutal this time around, after all. he’s lucky that yeonjun has such a lascivious sexual history, or else you might not have bought his little charade, even with the proof presented directly in front of you. that’s how much you love(d) yeonjun. the thought causes jealousy to rear its ugly head in his stomach, but whatever. there’s no way you’re going back to him after the way the scandal has made its way through your social life. even if you do want to get back together with him, there's no way your pride will let you. your pride has been a particularly nasty sort of obstacle in beomgyu’s pursuit of you, but it’s absolutely delicious to be able to use it against you like this. serves you fucking right.
still, it’s his job as your dutiful best friend to cheer you up. with this in mind, he picks up your favorite takeout and heads to your place. he smiles when he imagines the way you’ll gratefully embrace him once you realize that he’s here for you. maybe this time you’ll understand that he’s always been the one who’s there for you when someone hurts you. maybe this time will be his big break, finally freeing him from the purgatory he has been in for god knows how long.
he knocks on your door with a hopeful smile on his face. surprisingly, you’re swinging the door open mere seconds later with your eyes similarly lit up with hope.
“yeon— oh. it’s you,” you say, deflating immediately. there’s a certain sense of resentment in your tone that he catches onto, but he chalks it up to disappointment. his face falls. goddamn it. damn it all to hell.
“i brought you some food to cheer you up,” he says while shaking the plastic takeout bag, completely ignoring the slip of another man’s name.
he invites himself in, slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the couch as he usually does.
he waits for you to join him, but when he looks up at you, all he sees is you staring at him, arms crossed and face contorted in anger. surely you can’t be that upset that he’s not yeonjun, right? now that he thinks about it, why would you be expecting yeonjun, anyway? hadn’t you effectively cut him off? did you talk to him and take him back after all that (you think) he’s done? that can’t be right. unless… unless you actually let him talk to you. oh god, please tell him that’s not what happened.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, face devoid of anything deeper than curiosity and worry.
you’re silent for a moment before you carefully choose your next words.
“i talked to yeonjun,” you reply, and his heart sinks to his stomach. “he told me some… interesting things.”
beomgyu hopes you don’t notice how hard he gulps. you do not.
“what did he say?” he asks, face tense but still showing no clear signs of guilt.
“he told me what happened that night. he told me how you got him drunk and basically forced that girl onto him. he also said that you’re the reason none of my relationships work out,” you declare, opting to stop beating around the bush and just get some answers. you study his face for a crack of some sort, but there is none.
“and what do you think?” he asks quietly.
“i think… i think he might be telling the truth,” is what you say, but you’re sounding increasingly unsure with every word because beomgyu looks more hurt than you’ve ever seen him.
“you believe him over me?” he asks, voice cracking and lips trembling with his brown eyes glossed over in what you can only describe as devastation. god, either beomgyu’s a really good actor, yeonjun’s a really good actor, or you’re just fucking stupid.
“i… i don’t know what to think, beomgyu,” you whisper after a pause. all he does is nod before his next words pierce your heart.
“is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”
jesus christ. you were so sure that yeonjun was telling the truth when he told you about beomgyu, so ignoring him only seemed natural under the circumstances, but he looks every bit like the victim in light of your accusations. his trembling lips and wounded gaze make you want to strangle yourself for ever doubting him. as you feel yourself being consumed with remorse, though, you remember the sincerity and desperation in yeonjun’s words. maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding? maybe they’re both convinced that they’re right?
“y-yes. i’m sorry. i was just confused. maybe he just misunderstood?” you babble. he likes your hesitancy, but it’s still wearing on his patience. as much as he wants to say he can’t believe that you’d question him because of some guy you dated, he can believe it when it comes to you. you always, always, always hurt him like this, and he’s had just about enough.
“and what if it’s true?” he asks, pathetic facade wiped clean off of his face while something more somber replaces it entirely. your eyes lock with his and you’re stunned silly.
“what?” is all you can manage to reply with.
“what if i pushed that girl onto yeonjun? what if i ruined all of your relationships? what would you do?”
“so it’s true?!” is all you can say, guilt flaring into sheer rage and hurt.
“so what if it is?” he asks, as if he doesn’t comprehend how twisted this is.
“so… so how could you do that to me?!”
“i was only doing what’s best for you,” he impatiently replies. “they were only gonna hurt you, can’t you see that? even before i did anything, there were still all those men who cheated on you, lied to you, used you. what’s wrong with wanting to protect you from people like them? i just couldn’t stand to see you living like that!” he argues, clearly believing he’s completely justified in all of this.
sure, you’ve been hurt before even without his intervention, but that doesn’t mean he can just play puppeteer in your love life to “protect” you from anything similar happening ever again. you trusted him and he manipulated you. he acted like a knight in shining armor this entire time while knowingly sabotaging any potentially good thing that could come your way. and he did it all because he wants to protect you? bullshit.
“you know, i thought that even if everyone other man in the world could hurt me, you never would,” you say shakily, either from sadness or anger. maybe both. “i guess i was wrong.”
“hurt you?! hurt is watching the person you love fuck other people over and over and over again! hurt is watching you laugh me off and never even fucking considering me as an option, goddamn it!” he yells while slamming his hand on your coffee table.
“so your solution was to fuck up every relationship i have just to have me to yourself?! do you not realize how fucked up that is?!” you yell back, trying to appear unfazed by his increasingly enraged behavior. he seems to falter at this, genuinely at a loss for words at your unforgiving pinpointing of his erratic actions. the desperate, eager-to-please beomgyu you know all too well is finally back and you feel your confidence surge because of it.
“i only did that because —”
“why? because you love me? or think you do?” you mock with a hollow laugh. “you don’t purposely ruin the life of someone you love.” he looks genuinely wounded by your words.
“but i —”
“i don’t care. get out,” you say mercilessly. you’re absolutely through with listening to his fucked up ideations about love and what his twisted moral compass deems as justified because of it. you’re so preoccupied with preaching on your soapbox, you don’t even realize his attitude has once again shifted from the compliant beomgyu to the one you don’t recognize at all.
“... no,” he says flatly.
“did you not fucking hear me? i said get out,” you repeat through clenched teeth. normally, your raised hackles would be enough to scare him off, so you figure he’ll tuck his tail and leave right about now. oh, how wrong you are.
“are you deaf?” he asks with a sneer. “i said no.”
“what do you mean, no?” you ask. somewhere in the depths of your mind, alarm bells begin ringing, but it’s far too late to heed them. plus, you’re still under the impression that he’ll bend to your will.
“oh, so you’re not deaf. just stupid,” he snorts. your jaw is agape at his audacity. beomgyu has caught an attitude and gotten fresh with you before, sure, but nothing like this. to say you’re dumbstruck would be to put things in the mildest of terms. you can barely get out your next sentence.
“w-what do you mean?”
“i’m not leaving this apartment,” he says firmly, and before you can even ask him to explain, he’s dragging you away with a painful grip.
“ow! beomgyu, you’re hurting m—”
“shut up. i told you what real hurt is, but you're not fucking listening. i don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth,” he says in a monotone voice. if the alarm bells were ringing in the depths of your mind before, they’re absolutely blaring at the forefront of your brain right now.
“what are y-you —”
“i thought i told you to shut up,” he snaps before roughly grabbing your face and planting his lips on yours. the kiss is crude. it’s absolutely vulgar with the way it’s all tongue and teeth and saliva, but after a few seconds of uncertainty, you find yourself melting into it. this is wrong. you two are the best of friends, almost like brother and sister. and more than that, you love yeonjun, right? you’re supposed to be working on getting back together with him, aren’t you? but your reason starts to be sucked away as you feel his hands caress your body, leaving nothing but fire in their wake.
you don’t know how you got here, almost completely naked as you lay on your back while beomgyu continues attacking your lips. it’s blazing hot and you can’t help but feel your underwear becoming wet with every moan that escapes his mouth and consequently reverberates onto your tongue. as if he already knows the intricacies of your internal battle, one of his hands finds its way to your now soaking wet pussy and he uses his index and middle fingers to spread the slickness around. he swirls his fingers around your hole and just barely pushes one of them into the entrance. you gasp at the shallow intrusion and you can feel his notorious shit-eating grin pressed across your lips as he feels how tight you are. you’re ridiculously turned on and he knows it. he pauses his actions only to unzip his pants and yank them down to his knees. your eyes widen at what you can only describe as his huge appendage, all reddened and already leaking. you feel your cunt throbbing with even more need at the sight, but your last shred of reason still makes you hesitate.
“beomgyu, we can't… we're friends, and yeonjun is —”
“can’t you just let me make you feel good? god, you’re making this so difficult, but what the fuck else is new,” he growls.
he's right. you are making things difficult. there's no way of salvaging your friendship after this, so what's the point in holding back now? you realize that while he may be absolutely unhinged, his feelings for you are real. do you reciprocate them? you don’t know yet, but the thought of him doting on another person the same way he dotes on you makes you feel uneasy. as for yeonjun? well, he deserves better than the cesspool of turbulent emotions that you currently find yourself in.
“you still sure you don’t want me?” he asks cockily. you, with all of your pride, can only muster up a feeble shake of your head. he knew the answer before you gave it to him, but his condescending gaze shows you that your words have scratched a certain itch of his.
he rubs his hardened length against your folds and it’s all you can do to resist locking your ankles around his waist and pulling him into you, but something stops you. protection. you don’t even have to say it, because he knows you too well for your own good.
“let me fuck you raw,” he says breathily, just barely poking his length into your tight hole. “i know you need it, baby. just let me take care of you.” you’re silent for a moment before pinching out your next words.
“p-pull out?” he won’t because he knows you’ll be begging him for his cum when he’s done with you, and you already know he won’t, even when he nods and promises he will. you don't know why you even asked.
the ache you feel to have him buried inside you is quickly replaced by the ache you feel once he begins to stretch you out. it’s a stinging, burning sort of pain, but that’s nothing in comparison to the pure pleasure you feel as his flared tip drags along your walls. he begins with thrusting shallowly, fucking you open like you’re a virgin, and you’re so tight while he’s so big, you might as well be.
painfully slowly, he pushes each and every inch of himself into your gummy hole. he reaches places you didn’t even know existed and stretches you open so good all you have the brainpower to call the sensation is fullness. overwhelming fullness. when he finally sheathes himself in you completely, a strangled cry leaves both of your throats as you feel him throbbing inside of you and he, in turn, feels you pulsating around him.
after you adjust, you expect him to start drilling into you with reckless abandon, but he does nothing of the sort. just watches you with a strange look on his face.
“b-beomie? what are you doing?” you ask pathetically, head raising up from its place on the pillows to meet his wanton gaze.
“beg me for it.”
“beg for w—” your question is interrupted by a sharp smack on your sensitive pussy.
“beg me for it. beg me to fuck you like a whore. i won’t tell you again,” he says menacingly. your bleary eyes are so confused, so stupid, and so, so cute, but he’s determined to use the last of his self-control to get you to feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s felt for years. well, even if you don’t, he’ll spend the whole night fucking you dumb until you do. but you’re so hungry for his dick, you don’t even realize that he’s bluffing.
finally, you understand what he’s asking of you, and you waste no time to comply.
“n-need your cock, beomie. need you to make me f-feel good,” you say, trying to retain even a semblance of your dignity. this brings a mean smirk to his face, but he’s not done with you, yet.
“surely you can do better than that?” he taunts, rocking his hips ever so slightly so you can feel every inch of his length and girth teasingly hitting your cervix, but providing no relief. fuck your dignity. you need him.
“please! please, i need you! need your cock to fill me up!” you whine.
“mhmm, and?”
“need you to fuck me! need you to fill me up with your cum!” well, there goes your resolve to have him pull out. this seems to satisfy his sadistic desires.
“oh, my love. all you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin. and that’s when he starts.
his hips meet yours in the most punishing way, and that’s what this is: a punishment for the way you’ve treated him all these years. you can feel it in the way that his fingernails dig into your skin and in the way that he mercilessly presses down on your tummy until all you can feel is pressure building up to something unknown.
“who else can fuck you like this? who else can split you open like this?” he asks as lewd squelches reverberate throughout the room.
“n-nobody! only you, beomie!” you cry.
“that’s my good girl, such a good girl. baby just needs me to use her like a fucktoy, right?” and all you can do is whine and clench in carnal need as the poor springs of your bed squeak with every unforgiving thrust.
“oh, you like that, don’t you?” he snickers. “you like being my little whore. you’re just a toy for me, alright? free to use whenever i feel like it.” you nod in agreement and he lets out a chuckle as he pounds into you at an unimaginable speed, balls slapping your ass with every fiery thrust. each time he pumps into you, your pussy’s clamping down on him and sucking him in like that’s where he’s meant to be. and maybe it is.
“god, i’m close,” he groans after pumping into you for what feels like hours, and you whimper like a bitch in heat. “honey, don’t worry,” he tuts. “i’ll fuck you every day, i’ll fill you with my cum so you can’t leave. not that you’ll want to after this. you’re made for me, made to be my cumdump whenever i want.”
“y-yes!” you shriek, somehow liking the idea of being full of his cum forever and ever.
“that’s my girl. baby just wants me to fuck her good. that’s all you needed, right? that’s why you’ve been such a brat. you just needed me to show you what it’s like to be fucked right,” he says, rolling your clit for good measure, which is enough to make you reach your high as it comes crashing down around you. beomgyu wasn’t lying when he said he was close, so when he feels you clenching around his big cock as if you’re milking him for all that he’s worth, you feel it twitching before hot bursts of cum paint your inner walls until you’re leaking white and seeing stars. he continues with slow, lazy pumps until he softens. you stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, breathing raggedly while your bodies are overcome with thrums of delight.
when he finally pulls out and lays down beside you, bodies slick with sheens of sweat, he pushes your hair back behind your ear and plants a kiss on your temple. shakily, he takes his hand and rubs it along your distended tummy, full of his cum. he lovingly strokes it with an awed smile on his face.
“such a good girl for me,” he repeats. “i can’t wait until you’re pregnant. you’ll have as many babies as i can give you, right?” and all you can do is nod deliriously. he smiles in satisfaction as you eagerly agree to his every nasty, perverted thought. “god, i love you so much. and you love me too, right? say it. say you love me.”
“i love you.” and you realize that you do.
this man is deranged, but he’s yours, and for better or for worse, you're his. especially now that you might very well be carrying his children. and even if you aren’t, you know he’ll make good on his promises to keep fucking you until you are. should you be glad that he effectively ruined every potential relationship for you? you were unsure before, but you realize that nobody has or ever will love you as much as he does, even if he has a demented way of showing it. well, it is what it is. there’s no way out after this.
notes pt. 2: i hope this goes over better after the editing!
cws: smut, unprotected sex (I planned this to be protected, I SWEAR), fingering, riding, dry humping, handjobs, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), squirting, cum eating, throatfucking, love confessions, a bit of fluff, virgin!Reader, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink but with a twist, dom!Lee Know, service top!Lee Know
word count: 6686
summary: minho was the perfect boyfriend - sweet, caring but with a deep dark desire inside of him. When he finds out you’re so inexperienced, he can’t hold it back anymore
a/n: I actually had this idea for so long now and it was sitting in my drafts halfway done for literal months! I’m so glad I can finally present it to you
Your relationship with Minho had been effortless, almost perfect even.
He was considerate, a sweetie behind his sometimes stoic nature. He was a true gentleman, kind, caring and got along well with your family.
And well, you would probably describe his whole being as endearing.
He hugged you while he was asleep, pulling you against his chest, but would deny doing that the next morning.
He made you a cup of coffee first thing after getting up, even before he got the first sip himself, he would bring it to you when you refused to get up early.
He kissed you goodbye before heading to practice, lingering breaths left on your skin, his scent still burnt into your memory.
He texted you in every break, sending you a quick pic because he knew you were interested in his work.
He brought your favorite snacks with him when he came back home, telling you he thought you probably craved it all day.
But what you didn’t know about him were his desires deep down. When you smiled at him, eyes literally lighting up as soon as he did one of these things, there were these thoughts that almost plagued him.
When he held you close at night, his thoughts drifted off to a space where he imagined him pinning you down underneath him and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t speak, think or walk properly anymore.
When he made you breakfast in bed, there was this weird itch he had and it could only be properly smothered if he would fuck your face first thing in the morning instead.
When he kissed you before heading off to work, he always fantasized about pushing you against the wall and making you watch him ruin you all over in the broad mirror in the hallway.
When he sent you a selfie of him when he had a few minutes for himself, he had to fight the urge to facetime you and order you to show yourself to him in your entirety while he talked you through an orgasm.
When he stepped into your apartment in the evening, he wanted to jump at you so badly, his whole body screaming for him to bend you over the nearest surface.
But he did none of these things because he was kinda afraid to scare you off with it. Not all of his thoughts were that dark but all of them were full of filth. The two of you hadn’t been intimate yet, although your relationship was so fulfilling. It just hadn’t been the right time yet.
But in this very moment, your snuggle session on the couch while watching a movie had turned to him leaning over to you, kissing you slowly.
Your hands were so cutely braced against his chest, not shoving him away but feeling him. God, he really wanted to eat you whole - or eat you out, whatever happened first.
He moved his lips against yours, hand at the back of your neck to hold you in place like this. It wasn’t possessive, but firm and wanting. You let him, your heart fluttering and your stomach flipping out of excitement.
Minhos other hand ran up your thigh, squeezing your leg there before he cupped your core. Just for a second though, because your surprised gasp seemed to wake him out of his trance and he ended the kiss abruptly.
With his hands leaving you and him scooting away an inch, you felt your whole body tense up because of the loss of touch. This has been new but you wanted more, goosebumps formed on your skin.
“Sorry, I- uhhmm.. got a bit carried away”.
He looked at you so apologetically, shifting in his position as if it suddenly was uncomfortable to sit on the couch. You tilted your head in confusion, while in reality, he had to internally admit that the little sound you made just went straight to his cock.
“I liked it”, you finally said, voice trembling more than you had anticipated.
His face turned back to you.
“You did?”, he asked.
You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, his gaze made your body heat up. You felt weird, but in a good way.
“So- you want me to continue?”.
There was a pause, dead silence hung thick in the air between you. Your heart was so loud in your chest, it was the only thing you were hearing right now. You were nervous, but you knew this was right. Maybe you should have told him your secret sooner, though. You weren’t just inexperienced, you had no experience at all.
With your next nod, Minho immediately pulled you towards him, guiding you to sit on his lap and straddle him. You couldn’t describe the sensation, everything was so new and scary, but so good. Minho on the other hand felt like he was hitting the jackpot, he knew he possibly couldn’t indulge in all of his desires, but finally having the person he loved - yes, he indeed loved you - on top of him, was better than he had dreamed.
His hands were wrapped around your waist now, fingers digging into your flesh as he applied pressure to your form, urging you to move on top of him. But well, you were clueless, clumsy. You didn’t know what to do.
“Move, Jagi. Please”, his voice was broken, he wanted to pull your face down to kiss you, but your breathing hitched - he stopped.
“I don’t know how”.
At first, he didn’t really know how to react to that, he just looked up to you.
“I’ve never done something like that before”, you quietly admitted, avoiding eye contact, “I’m- uhmm”.
You felt tears already forming in your eyes so you squeezed them shut. It was embarrassing, you thought, and it probably weirded him out.
But poor Minho just tried so hard to sort his thoughts because oh my god, he could be your first. It was scaring him, to be honest. He wanted your first time to be something you would happily look back to. But deep inside, something told him to taint you. To ruin you for everyone else. To make you his own forever.
His silence was making you anxious and the tears started rolling. The sting in your chest was humbling, you felt incredibly dumb that you let this get so close to you. You couldn’t stop it even if you tried, but when you tried to get off of him, his grip just got stronger.
“No no no no. Don’t cry, Jagi”, his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you”.
You froze, your heart beating against your ribcage relentlessly.
“You’re not.. appalled by the fact I’m a virgin?”.
Oh god, you said it. He wanted to hiss, to moan, to press you down onto his cock, to rip off all of your clothes at this instant.
He needed to take a breath, all of these thoughts were not helping in his wish to make you feel as best as possible.
“No, of course not”, he said, voice as calm as he could muster, “Just under pressure”.
Although your body was still shivering and you couldn’t yet stop your sobs, his gentle and soft expression was soothing, so you leaned against him in need of the comfort he was trying to provide.
“What do you mean?”.
His hand moved to the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair.
“Well, the first time can be- a bit much? I wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed by me accidentally hurting you”.
He still was just being a sweetheart, face nuzzling into your neck, placing a careless kiss there. It sent a little spark down your spine, letting something bloom inside you. You started thinking. You liked how he had touched you, even with clothes on. He was so considerate, immediately stopping when you felt uncomfortable.
You were sure he would be the right one, you were sure that he would take care of you.
“I want it”, you whispered, “With you”.
He flinched, physically jolted and made a noise you couldn’t quite understand the meaning of, but when you sat up, you saw his pupils dilate. He trembled, whole body vibrating, his lips were parted.
Minho looked incredibly hot like this, more than he usually did. You smiled through the anxiety, raising a hand to stroke the hair out of his face.
“But you’ll have to guide me”.
It seemed like he wanted to say something, but no word came out, his fingers scrunched up the fabric of your hoodie.
“Are you sure?”, he asked softly.
You nodded, cupping his face gently, there was no hesitation. Sure, you were a bit afraid, nervous, curious, but you didn’t hesitate a second.
“You need to tell me what you like, okay? And give me a sign when anything feels off”, he said, hands gliding back down and resting on your hips, “And we’re only going as far as you feel like”.
It was so endearing, how nervous he seemed to be as well. He was lucky you couldn’t read his mind, because he was so fucking scared he couldn’t resist. He was scared he couldn’t fight the urge to choke you, to pull your hair, to throatfuck you, to humiliate you, to use words he would later regret. Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted but god, the idea of being your first and sculpting you the way he liked was so tempting. And he hated how toxic that sounded.
“I trust you”.
“I trust you, too”, he sighed.
It felt like a love confession, something that also didn’t happen out loud in your relationship. But it made your heart flutter either way.
“You want me to show you how to move- on.. top of me?”, his gaze was strong, you felt something inside you tighten involuntarily at it.
You nodded, his grip on you getting a bit tighter. Minho took a deep breath.
“Okay, with clothes on it’s- it’s about the friction”, he explained and pushed you away a bit, but pulled you back in quickly after that, “How does that feel?”.
The fabric of your jeans rubbed over your clit like this, your breath got stuck in your throat at the feeling. It was unfamiliar, but it pulled a little mewl out of you.
“Good”, you managed to get out.
“You can also like- move like this”, his hands guided you to gyrate your hips.
Oh, that was even better. The sensation was making you dizzy, you let your head fall back, hands on his shoulders gripping the fabric of his shirt harshly until your knuckles turned white.
You could feel him getting harder underneath you and it empowered you, it encouraged you to try and move a bit on your own.
“Yeah, just like that-“, he gasped through gritted teeth, clasping you desperately, “Kiss me”.
You leaned forward, connecting your lips and sighing in relief. The kiss was cautious at first, the both of you holding back before he sat up a bit, his erection bumping into your clit like this. You moaned at the same time and he used the opportunity to let his tongue swipe in between your lips.
It was oddly addicting, his taste so sweet that you immediately wanted more as soon as your tongues touched.
His hands bunched up your hoodie to touch your bare skin on your waist. The contact made you arch your back and break the kiss involuntarily. Minho hummed, shoving the fabric up some more, looking at you in a pleading way and silently asking you to take it off.
You did in a hurry, his hands frantically helping you to pull it over your head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, completely forgotten. Minho had seen you just in a bra before, but he still looked at you in awe, taking you in and growling quietly. This made you feel confident enough to reach back and unclasp it. Minho died on the inside.
“Can you like- touch me? Like you did before?”, you felt your ears flush at this, newly gained confidence gone in an instant as soon as you had said these words.
He smirked, something mischievous glinting in those pretty eyes. His hands were roaming over your body, enjoying the feeling of your skin. Your breath hitched when his fingers danced over the curve right under your boobs.
“You did like that, huh, kitten?”.
He froze in his movements. Did he really just call you that? That was a momentarily slip of his deeper desires, he didn’t mean to do that. But the way you were still looking at him, so innocent, so precious, it just made sense in his distracted mind. The distraction being you, asking him this while you are sitting on his hardened dick like that. He threatened to fuck up.
But when he saw you nod, something inside him stirred. He stood up, lifting you with him to spread you out on the couch underneath him. There was a bit of hesitation before opening your pants and pulling them off completely. It was exciting, actually a bit scary, to be completely bare in front of him.
“I’ll start nice and slow, yeah?”, Minho cooed, “Or- tell me how you like it”.
“I-“, you hesitated.
And he stopped, before even reaching your thighs properly he had stopped mid movement.
“Have you never touched yourself?”, he asked then, voice dropping.
Once more, you felt humiliated. Not by him, but by yourself. You were an adult, yet, you knew nothing about stuff like this. A slow shake of your head made him move again, still leaning over you, but getting more distance between you to look down at you.
“I’m gonna teach you, yeah? I’ll show you how to make you feel good”.
Minho reached for your hand instead, placing it low on your stomach and gently shoved it down some more, your fingertips slightly gracing your folds like this.
“Starting easy, slow”, he muttered under his breath, dark eyes searching for your gaze and holding it.
He guided you to part them, going deeper so torturously slow. You reached your entrance, feeling the wetness and flushing heavily when you realized.
“Gather it, you can push the tip in if you want to”, he instructed you and you did as you were told, “Good- good girl, use it. Will feel better when it’s wet”.
You moved your hand up again, touching your clit and jolting immediately. It felt insanely good, little electric shocks and sparks rushing through your body whenever you rubbed your finger over it just slightly.
Minho watched you with an open mouth. You tried setting up a show for him, empowered by the lustful stare he had. He gripped the cushion of the couch, nails digging in. He was holding on for dear life, this was the most sinful scene he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t even touching you anymore, you were doing it all by yourself, but you still had him panting heavily.
“How does it feel, kitten? Tell me”, his voice was raspy, hoarse.
“It’s- so good”, you got out, your body reacting on its own and your hips bucking into your hand.
One of his hands touched you, pinning your hips down onto the couch to keep you in place.
“Push your finger in, slowly”.
You did, blindly following his instructions and shoving your middle finger in. You gasped at the intrusion - the sound turning into a whimper as soon as you heard his groan.
“Curl your finger- like this“, he showed you and you tried to mimic it, “Search for the spot. Go in deeper”.
You were so clumsy, not really knowing what he meant. You tried to, you really did, but failed miserably.
“Min-“.
“You want me to find it?”, he asked gently.
And you nodded. God, why did you nod? Minho was shivering, he was about to combust just by watching you eagerly trying to find your g-spot and now he had to do the same? Fuck.
But he couldn’t deny it to you now. Not with those pleading eyes. He sighed, his hand moving once you removed your own, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. Minho had to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut - fearing he would drool if he didn’t.
He let his fingers slide through your juices, coating his fingers thoroughly before pushing one of them in. Your back arched off almost immediately. This felt so much better than your own attempt, your lack of experience once more humiliating you.
Minho was knuckles deep in, turning his wrist and- you moaned so loud, he thought he would cum into his pants if you did that again. He obviously had found it, your legs shaking at the intense feeling.
“Oh god-“, you choked.
You tried to memorize his movements, tried to picture what he was doing inside of you - but your brain stopped working for good.
“Feels good, yeah?”, he had the audacity to stroke the spot with the tip of his finger, pushing into it and bully your nerves with it.
“Min-“, all you could say was his name and damn, he loved it.
His mind drifted off. This wasn’t enough. He needed more. And when you even begged for more without him needing to say something, he felt like he was on cloud nine.
“What do you want, kitten? Another finger? Or my tongue? You’d let me taste you?”.
He hadn’t planned on suggesting things by himself. He wanted you to have the reins so nothing out of your comfort zone happened, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. This was everything he had ever dreamed of.
“Taste me? How?”, your voice was so shaky, so innocent.
Minho hummed, his thumb gently pressing onto your clit. Your hands shot forward, gripping his arm, but he didn’t budge. He rubbed quick little circles onto your clit with utmost care - the strong pull in your stomach made you moan again.
“I can eat you out, if you want me to”.
“Huh?”, you asked, mind still empty.
He grinned, he couldn’t stop anymore. He was addicted to the power he had over you.
“You want me to do this with my tongue?”, he tried again.
“Huh?”.
God, he had you this dumb with just his fingers? He was in heaven.
“I need you to say yes or no”, he mused, he wasn’t even able to fight off the next sentence, “Or I’ll stop”.
“Yes-“, you thrashed, squirming because of the sensation, “Do it, please”.
Minho had to hold his breath for a second, composing himself. He just froze before he removed his hands from you completely. And for a moment, you thought you had said something wrong. But he sank down on his stomach, hands gripping the outside of your thighs to press you closer.
Minho took his sweet time with it, leaning in and letting his nose slide through your wetness, eyes not leaving you for a second. Honestly, he never had looked better than in this moment - between your legs, pupils so heavily dilated and vibrating from sheer lust overwhelming him.
You noticed how embarrassingly fast you were breathing, your bare chest heaving quickly and glistening in a thin layer of sweat.
He kissed the spot right above your clit, going deeper, caressing your folds very gently before darting his tongue out. He was easing you into the sensation, letting his tongue ghost over your skin before he gave your entrance a soft and short lick.
“Relax, kitten”, his voice was a low rumble that vibrated through your whole body.
Minho was fighting for his life right now, but he tried to keep himself grounded. He tried to be slow, to be gentle. But all he wanted was to devour you, fuck your pussy with his tongue and drive you into overstimulation. This was torture for him.
And it got harder the more sounds fell out of your mouth - he got bold enough to rub his nose along the sensitive bundle of nerves before latching his mouth onto it.
You jolted, hard. He definitely knew what he was doing, alternating between licking flat stripes over it and sucking your clit into his mouth and making you wail heavily.
There was a strong pressure in your pelvis, an unfamiliar tug that let your legs shake uncontrollably around his head. He relished in your reactions, your sounds, being completely lost in it. One of his hands left your thighs, his middle finger finding your entrance in no time to push in gently.
“Min- hahh- Minho, wait-“, your fingers entangled in his hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him off or urge him closer in between your legs, “I- feels weird”.
“Ohh-“, Minho groaned, only momentarily being able to detach his mouth from your dripping pussy, “You’re close already? Fuck- this gonna be your first orgasm?”.
You nodded weakly. You were still thankful he wasn’t weirded out by the fact you were so inexperienced. It only spurred him on to make you feel even better, to give you the best release you’ll ever have and love to think back to it.
He inserted another finger, pulling them out and fucking them back in gently but quickly. The pull in your lower stomach made you gasp out in shock and you wanted to close your legs instinctively, but he held them open, a strong hand even pushing one of them up a bit.
“Don’t worry, kitten. I got you. Just relax and let go for me, yeah?”, he muttered, licking up from your entrance to your most sensitive spot, “Cum all over my face, jagi”.
You couldn’t stop the explosion of built up anticipation, the knot in your stomach ripped apart with a blinding force and you lost control over your body completely. You seized up, eyes rolling back into your skull and god no, you weren’t moaning anymore. You were screaming his name so loudly, it echoed off the walls, pulling at his hair so harshly, you could hear him grunt and hiss both in pleasure and pain whenever you needed to gasp for air.
His fingers continued to fuck into you, pulling the orgasm into an excruciating length. You gushed around them, soaking the sheets beneath you and Minho was more than happy to lap it all up as if it was the best meal he ever had.
“Fuck”, he grunted, still not done, still too fixed onto your used pussy, “That’s it, kitten. Good fucking girl for me”.
It was too much, you were so sensitive. You weakly pushed at his shoulders, trying to signal him to give you a break. It worked, he slowly snapped out of his daze, but it was so hard to do so. Minho really had to remind himself to keep it easy, to not overwhelm you too much, but he needed more than that.
His heart and cock ached all the same for you, he wished he could manhandle you onto your knees and-
God, he had to stop thinking about it.
He retracted his fingers, shivering. Your ears probably turned beet red when you saw his glistening face, some of your mess still dripping from his chin. There was a smug grin on his wet lips when he noticed, he leaned back over you, face hovering over yours.
“You want a taste, huh? Admiring your work?”.
He kissed you, his tongue swiping over your lower lip and prying your mouth open with it. You gasped heavily, your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him in deeper.
Minho groaned, he couldn’t help it. He needed relief so badly and you were there, fully naked right there underneath him. Your soft body so close, full on display.
He rocked his hips forward once, just once. And he was gone. Another groan from him, muffled by your own mouth. It just felt so good, he pressed his twitching cock against your core over and over again, thinking about how it would possibly feel like to sink into your tight heat. How it would feel like when he pinned you down. How it would feel to fold you in half just to hear you scream his name like that again.
“Min-“.
“Huh?”, he made.
He forced himself to still, but his whole body was vibrating. He really hoped you wanted to tell him that you needed a break. Or wanted to stop right there. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if you kept this pace up.
“Can I touch you now?”, you asked reluctantly.
Minhos brain short circuited.
“You- why?”.
“I don’t know- I want to make you feel good”, you said, your hands settling in his shoulders, “But you’ll have to show me how”.
Minho was about to burst. You were so innocent, adorable. He sighed deeply, sitting back against the backrest.
You crawled over to him, but instead decided to get up and kneel on the floor in between his spread legs to have better access. This would be Minhos downfall, he knew it. The way you looked up at him so patiently, waiting for him to guide you.
The bulge of his cock pressing against his pants was impressive, you thought. You reached for it, cautiously wrapping your fingers around the curve.
“Ohh- fuck-“, he gasped.
You weren’t even properly touching him, no skin on skin. But it was enough to make him lean back, slump against the cushions and let his mouth hang open.
Your eyes were watching him attentively, searching for any kind of discomfort you would make him feel with your lack of experience. But you could clearly see he found that endearing. His gaze was so fondly yet so lustful, every little hesitating twitch of your fingers made him gasp.
For the first time this evening, you noticed that Minho was turned on by it. And that changed everything for you.
“Can I pull it out?”, you asked, tilting your head.
He nodded, his fingers digging into the couch on each side of him.
Just like he did, your actions were slow. You remembered how exciting the anticipation had felt and you wanted him to experience the same. And Minho loved how bold you were with it, how much courage you seemed to muster, but also how you seemed to get behind the things he liked.
You unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper. You were still nervous, you had to bite your tongue slightly before you reached into his boxer briefs while pulling the waistband down a bit. Minho lifted his hips to help you, gasping softly when you finally touched him.
It was a bit intimidating to see his cock up close. He was hard, in a deep red color and a drop of liquid was already daring to drip down.
“You can- wrap your hand around it. Gentle”, Minho said, taking your hand into his to guide your fingers around it.
You squeezed him once, earning a hiss from him. He bucked his hips up, couldn’t stop himself from tucking into your hand with leisure and shallow little thrusts.
“Fuck- sorry”, he groaned, “Move your hand, yeah? You can twist it a little”.
He moved with you, showing you how he liked it, but let his hand fall to his side when you slowly got the hang of it. Seeing him falling apart like this probably was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Minho let his head fall back, every breath he took shaking and in uncontrolled gasps.
“Does that feel good?”, you asked.
Minho grinned, laughing a bit hoarsely.
You really knew what you were doing to him. You knew and you were teasing him. Little brat.
“Feels amazing, kitten”, he huffed, “Wanna taste it?”.
Minho hadn’t planned on asking you that - he hadn’t planned any of it. But he could see that little mischievous glint in your eyes. He wondered what made you so bold, although you had no experience. Either way, this was a dream come true for him.
“You’d let me?”, your head tilted a bit.
Minho wanted to bite his fist.
You leaned in, darting your tongue out to lap up the drop of pre cum.
God, how was he supposed to stop himself from fucking your mouth like this? You were so hesitant and unsure, but you still kissed the tip of his cock and licked over it so slowly, his eyes rolled back into his skull.
“Fuck-“, it was barely a sound, muttered under his breath.
“Tell me what feels good“, you demanded, your hand still on his base.
“Hahh- just- take it into your mouth first”.
You parted your lips obediently, sinking down and taking him inch by inch. Minho trembled, digging his fingers deep into the cushions to fight the urge to grab your head and hold it in place to fuck you into the wet heat.
“We can try that if you want to”, you said, “Why not?”.
Oh god.
Did he really just say that out loud?
“I- no”, Minho stuttered, but couldn’t contain the next groan when you licked the underside of his cock up to the head.
“I trust you, baby”, you said again.
“Don’t”, he laughed, “I don’t think I could handle this if you let me”.
There was a little whimper on his lips when you sucked on the tip for a second, that urged you to take his hand - pry it off the cushions to guide it to your cheek.
“I want you to show me how to properly do it. Show me exactly how you want it, Min”.
“Fuck- but- you gotta-”, he couldn’t control his body, his hand slipping to the back of your head before he roughly thrusted up into your mouth.
You gagged around his length, but still found a lot of appeal in the feeling of it reaching so far inside, you could feel it hitting the back of your throat. Minho groaned with a very broken sound.
“Sorry, kitten, it just feels so-“.
Should he do it again? Damn, it felt so good, but-
“Do it again”, you gasped.
Something snapped inside of Minho. He felt it. You did too. You saw it in his eyes, the way he stared down at you - he held his breath, there was silence for a second.
Then, his other hand crept towards you, fingers gripping your hair to push your head all the way down once, twice. He grunted again.
“Fuck, take it then”.
Your hands grabbed his thighs, bracing yourself. Although you were struggling, trying hard to keep your body as slack as possible so he could push you down whenever he liked it - you couldn’t deny how hot this was.
Minhos face was scrunched up in the darkest and deepest form of pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes half lidded as he moaned loudly every time you gasped. You felt your pussy dripping, ruining the carpet underneath you.
“Kitten-“, Minho cooed breathlessly, “If I had known your pretty mouth takes my cock so well- God”.
His movements were erratic, frantic, but still had some kind of rhythm in it. It helped you breathe more constantly through your nose and you couldn’t hold back your own moans as this scene in front of you was too good to look away unaffected.
He alternated between pushing your head down and pulling it back up by your hair and thrusting up in quick snaps of his hips.
You wondered how his cock would feel like when it was inside your pussy, you imagined it hitting the same spot he had shown you with his fingers - just like it was now hitting your throat every single time.
It was impossible to try and fight the urge to let one of your hands slip in between your legs. It was hard to concentrate and memorize what he had told you, how his fingers had curled inside of you. It was embarrassing how wet you were, your own arousal mixing with his saliva into a sinful liquid that you used to rub over your clit with a more intense feeling.
“You look so fucked out, kitten. So pretty. You like when I fuck your mouth like this? You like being used for my pleasure?”.
He pulled you up far enough so his cock slipped out of your mouth, a harsh grip angling your head up to look up at him.
“Tell me. You enjoy choking on that dick?”, he asked, his thumb gently removing your spit from your lower lip in a heavy contrast to his previous actions.
“Yes- I love it”.
“Are you touching yourself? Getting off to being throatfucked? Am I really turning you into such a filthy slut? Damn-“, he mocked you and your pussy acted accordingly by throbbing against your hand.
You nodded hastily, the friction against your clit felt so good, your mind was so empty.
“You’d let me cum into your mouth? Be a good girl and swallow it for me?”.
He wasn’t afraid of going overboard anymore. Not with your bright grin and enthusiastic nod.
“I’m already close, kitten. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer, yeah?”, his voice was hoarse but gentle.
You took him back into your mouth by yourself, but proceeded to let him do as he pleased again. His cock twitched heavily and relentlessly against your tongue. The circles on your clit got faster, trying to find the same rhythm he had chosen, but his thrusts were uncontrolled and messy.
The amounts of groans and moans were getting more and more with every passing second, and he was right, he was very close.
One last push on your head, combined with him burying his dick as deep as possible to force his cum down your throat. You gagged, swallowed around him and it only seemed to make his orgasm even more intense.
His grip on your hair was rough, pulling at it to smother down the intense feeling and you were almost finishing yourself when the pain mixed with the pleasure. But he let you breathe as soon as he stopped spilling inside of you, his hands leaving you completely as you came up again.
Minho was certain. You had never looked hotter than in this moment. Your eyes were almost crossing, breathing heavily as his cum was still dripping from your lips.
His cum tasted salty, it was heavy on your tongue, but also kinda addicting. The reminder that you actually managed to make him feel that good.
This has been more than Minho had expected, more than he even dreamed to ever happen. His heart soared, felt light.
“I love you”, he muttered.
You didn’t even hesitate.
“I love you too”.
You climbed into his lap without thinking, wrapping your arms around him and pulling close. He was still incredibly hard, pressing against your core and making both of you gasp.
“I love you”, he whispered again, leaning in some more to kiss you chastely, “I love you so much”.
“I’ve waited so long for you to say that”, you mused, combing his hair back and out of his face.
“I know”, his hands wrapped around your waist, gently rubbing you, feeling you, “And I’m sorry about that”.
You shook your head, signaling him he didn’t need to. You looked at each other and you could clearly see how enamored Minho was. His gaze was so soft, so gentle after what just had happened.
“I want to feel you-”, you said quietly, hands searching for his skin under his shirt, which he quickly discarded, “Inside of me”.
Minhos grin was silly.
“Kitten, I don’t know if I can last that long”, he chuckled, “We don’t have to do it right now, you know?”.
But your body and your mind were so certain. You were sure you wanted this. Maybe - it was more of a need than a want. And to be honest, you probably would reach another orgasm very quick as well, you were still all riled up.
“I don’t care”, you said, feeling bold enough to grind down on him and making him gasp in surprise.
“Damn- I really did that to you”, he shook his head, “Let me get a condom, I’ll be right back”.
You shook your head.
“I said I wanted to feel you”.
He swallowed audibly before he groaned. You felt him twitch underneath you, urging you to rock your hips forward - just like he had shown you.
“Kitten- I don’t know what to say”, he huffed.
“Don’t say anything- just- fuck me”.
Your hands came up his chest, reaching for his pecs and letting your nails graze over the skin.
“Fuck- you’re going to be the death of me”, he helped you lifting yourself up, a hand around his cock guided himself to your entrance, “Go slow, yeah? You decide the pace”.
You nodded, letting him sink in slowly. He hissed, eyes closed in a concentrated and pleasure twisted face. Your heart was loud, you could hear it ring in your ears and it drowned out every other sound - you almost missed Minhos choked out moan.
“God- you feel- so fucking tight”, a hand left you, balling into a fist so he could dug his teeth into it, “Slow down-“.
But you didn’t even think of it, your pussy sucked him in greedily. It didn’t want you to go any slower. You arched your back, the feeling of his cock reaching so deep and dragging against your walls was mind blowing.
“I said fucking slow down-“, his hands squeezed your hips to make you stop right when he bottomed out, “I’m gonna cum- stop”.
“You- Min”, you were already trembling, already on the verge of your release, “You’re filling me up so good”.
The sound he made led to you clenching down on his length. The feeling of his cock stretching you out wasn’t even hurtful, it was grounding, intense and breathtaking.
“Don’t say shit like that- makes me want to-“.
“Do whatever you want with me”, you breathed, letting your head fall back while you gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life, “Please, fuck me”.
He didn’t even answer, he grabbed you and flipped you over - just like he had done it before when you had been in this position. He held himself up on his knees, his hands holding onto the lower part of your hips for leverage. His thrusts were harsh, relentless, but already stuttering.
“Min- hahh-“.
You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, but you weren’t able to speak either way. He was fucking you into the couch, making it squeak underneath you and punching every thought out of your brain with every snap of his hips.
It sent you over the edge immediately. This orgasm was even more intense, crushing your lungs as you tried to gasp for air.
“Fuck- fuck- you wanted this, gonna fill you up, make you mine”.
His cock was probably bruising your insides, marking you in the best way possible and claiming your pussy for good when he came inside of you with a guttural moan. You felt him twitch as he reached his peak, spilling as deep inside of you as possible and fucking his cum in every crevice of your walls. You whimpered, whined loudly out of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. The waves of endorphins were paralyzing your whole body, every muscle was seizing and relaxing in sync with his thrusts and your heartbeat.
It took him some time to come down, to even realize he was still moving - as if your pussy had entranced him and made him drunk on the sensation.
God, Minho really hoped this wasn’t a dream. Because now, when he had you like this once - he would make sure to fulfill every single one of his darkest thoughts. He was certain you’d love it.
if you're gonna break me in two ⋆ masterpost ⋆ do what you gotta do
GENRE + PAIRING ⋮ college au. ice hockey player!fratboy!sunghoon x fem!reader. PART 01 WC 29.3k
SYNOPSIS ⋮ you’ve been crushing on lee heeseung for most of your college life — long enough that you were beginning to crack. one blessed night, when a girl at a party slips you his number, it feels like fate finally taking pity on you. what follows is a slow, intoxicating unraveling — late-night calls, perfect pick-ups, subtle flirts you’d expect from a charming guy like him. so why is it that when you finally wave at him on campus, he looks genuinely confused?
CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ explicit themes, includes smut so +18 only. themes of mental illness sex as a coping mechanism self esteem issues angst with happy ending miscommunication skinship physical intimacy inferiority complex featuring enhypen slowburn pining
AUTHOR'S NOTE ⋮ hi!! thank you so much for waiting on me. this fic was such an ambitious idea of mine that i had no idea if i would be able to pull it off.. but after 6 months of typing n gathering feedback from my wonderful friends (veevee, annabanana, and mona to my minju + many more) i was able to do just that <33 hoonyn have such a special place in my heart, even though i worked on other fics while fleshing out this one, this project always got me the most excited (and also the most frustrated lmfao). anyway!!!! i had to split it up into two because of the block limit... VERY SORRY about that it's like 52k ish total? i got lost in the plot and just enjoyed my time writing, so that's why...... i hope it lives up to your expectations! i love U aaallll enjoy the word vomit ++ taglist at the end of the fic <3 thank u and see u in part 2 veryy sooonnn
REBLOGS APPRECIATED ⋆ THANK YOU FOR READING
everyone always told you that you had terrible luck. this applied to most things: friendships, competitions, meeting a friend’s parents, even.
but love? oh, love was where it stung. this was somehow more painful than everything else, because while you could flaunt at least one instance where a friendship didn’t explode in your face, or a parent actually liked you, or you won a gold star—you could never say you hit it off with a guy, ever.
perhaps the men of this generation were simply too terrible for this to ever be a matter of luck. it felt more like a rigged casino: every bet placed in good faith, every hand played carefully, and still you walked away lighter, bled dry all the same.
you weren’t desperate. no. far from it. you did everything right. you waited, chose the boys who made you feel safe instead of reckless, who offered steadiness instead of the dizzy thrill everyone else swore by. you could say, with a quiet sense of pride, that you followed the rules and played it by the book. hell, even after all that, every guy’s true colours somehow emerged victorious by the end of it: they just want sex, sex, or sex.
the truth was that deep down, you didn’t want anything to do with it. even if it was indeed the sexiest, biggest, smartest guy on campus… there was only one guy you set your sights on. just one, with the light brown hair and charming smile, shooting hoops at the basketball court by the cafeteria—lee heeseung.
though, the problem was simple: you’d never actually talked to the guy. this could’ve been easily solved if you shared even one class, but of course, he’d signed up late—every elective already full, while you, being the good student you are, had locked your choices in the moment the portal opened.
the second solution, proposed by oh jiwon herself, was rejected the instant it left her mouth. you were sprawled in her dorm room on a normal saturday night—you, legs spread indecently across the tiny couch she’d smuggled past security in first year, and her, upside down on the bed, hair brushing the floor.
“why don’t you just bump into him and knock all his books down?” she muttered, teeth chomping down on a stack of (probably) expired bbq-xtra-hot chips.
oh, heeeell no. what the fuck was this? a poorly produced drama plotline?
“was he born yesterday?”
the third option, though, felt a little more… dignified. it came to you on a random thursday evening, when the rain felt a little too heavy and you were wishing that lee heeseung would swoop in and hold a $5 umbrella over your heads.
replaying the events of the day in your head as your boots sloshed in muddy puddles, kim sunoo’s annoyingly pretty face comes into view.
“the fundraiser’s gonna be so busy this year, gosh…”
yes. indeed, it will.
the annual fundraiser organised by the student relations club. you remembered being ridiculously excited for it last year—around the same time you’d first started noticing heeseung. after some careful “asking around”, you’d learned he was attending, too. and, as if the universe was personally apologising to you for your tragic love life: he was trying his luck at the blind date booth.
what a sweet guy. donating his hard-earned money to charity and putting himself out there? he had your heart in his hands, and you came to understand that his was the target of many others.
so, it was obvious what had to be done. you signed up the moment sunoo—thank the angels for him—let the information slip. it’s nothing short of fate that you shared an elective with him; it took a bit of coaxing and more than a few judgmental looks, but by that sunny wednesday afternoon, good had prevailed in the world.
it’s safe to say you did not get lee heeseung as your date. instead, you endured a miserable twenty-minute speed dinner listening to a stranger ramble about his league rank. ou’d never been more thoroughly turned off in your life.
but this year?
this year, it will be different.
─────────────────────────
the house smells like weed and alcohol, and also everything that you should not be doing on a thursday night. you got the call from jiwon in the middle of your assignment, head half buried in your hands as the glow from the laptop screen burned your retinas—it’s twelve midnight now, and you have class in eight hours, but the impending sleep deprivation still beats handing in sloppy work.
the house belongs to the frat heeseung’s in. sigma alpha eta, if you remembered correctly. it’s three stories tall, tacky, and reeks of soju and everything wrong with the male species. you’re not even sure if the place ever gets cleaned, but considering it’s full of rich mama’s boys, they’ve probably hired someone to deal with the mess for them.
“what the fuck is going on?”
oh jiwon’s staring at you like you’re the one who dragged her here. you scan the room for no one in particular (lie), and when you turn back—
she’s gone.
“who’s ready to party?!”
the dj is embarrassingly bad. like, physically painful to listen to. the bass is cranked up so high it rattles the floorboards, vibrating straight through your bones. you cringe, already picturing the culprit: some frat guy who bought a $100 mixing set off amazon last week and now calls himself “up and coming”.
everyone you know seems to be here. you’d brushed shoulders with ahn yunjin and danielle on the way in, only to watch them dart toward the porch with a joint already lit.
you snake your way through narrow hallways packed wall-to-wall—overlapping conversations, smoke blown straight into your face, bodies pressing in from every side as you aim for the kitchen. instead, you stumble into the living room. leather couches are occupied by unconscious adults—drunk, high, or some lethal combination of both—bathed in warm overhead light that all but promises brutal hangovers tomorrow.
it seems like the party started long before you got here. where the hell did your jiwon go, anyway?
your feet start to move again, carrying you mindlessly through the first floor—you cross the hallway, take a turn into another doorway, and finally stumble upon the kitchen; it’s less crowded, with fewer drunk people and comparably quiet in contrast to whatever’s waiting for you outside the threshold of that door. your eyes are hesitant, oddly enough, though you know why.
parties like this usually mean hookups. and when hookups are involved, lee heeseung is the first name that comes to mind. the guy’s practically a walking target—especially in his own frat house, swarming with every girl who’s been blessed enough to know the name.
this whole situation feels like a ticking time bomb. your chest tightens. how long before someone else gets to him? how long before you turn a corner and see his face buried in someone else’s neck? 10 minutes? 10 seconds?
“hellooooo!”
and as fast as the thoughts come, they go; head snapping toward the sound, locking onto oh fucking jiwon—standing there, smiling innocently, as if she hadn’t abandoned you to die in the crowd.
“where the fuck have you been?” you sigh, hands running through your hair, like you’d just spent a whole day looking for her. to be fair, time moves weirdly in places like this.
“refilling!” she hiccups. “see?” she tips her red cup to show a dubious mix of jack and coke.
she’s tipsy—no surprise there. jiwon’s always been a lightweight. still, she manages to wobble over and hop onto the marble island, scooting back until her legs dangle comfortably. she looks down at you with glassy, sparkly eyes.
“sooo… heeseung’s place, huh? didn’t know their frat was so fancy. they literally have wine older than my grandparents in here.”
you roll your eyes and drag a stool out from under the island. it screeches against the tile, making you wince, before you climb up onto it.
“you’ve been snooping in their alcohol?” you giggle, shaking your head in mock disapproval. you’ll have to look through it later, too. “you’re a shit guest.”
“guest is always right!” jiwon babbles, before abruptly sneezing. the action makes you flinch. “oh… sorry. anyways,”
you cross your arms, waiting. she’s halfway to blackout, but you humor her anyway.
“fundraiser!” she slurs. “heeseung’s in the pantry. think he’s lookin’ for chips. i dunno. he was with sunghoon, and then i ran into him while lookin’ for more soju—”
and it’s like the universe wants to show you how much it wants you to stay in this lifetime, as a form of divine mercy, or something similar to an apology, because lee heeseung slides the pantry door open and waltzes right out with chips tucked under his armpit, as he munches on something else. your eyes follow him, and so does everyone else’s, and naturally they trail towards the slightly shorter man behind him.
park sunghoon. the guy with the ridiculously sharp, thick eyebrows, a staring problem, and close to half of the campus’s female population wanting to lick his boots. there’s often two responses to the question ‘who’s the cutest guy on campus’, and many of your peers often utter one or the other: heeseung, or his colder counterpart, sunghoon.
you took an economics class with him last year, and thank god you didn’t hit the lottery and end up in the same group, because you’d heard… things. too many things. stories about him tearing into a girl’s work so viciously, she had to beg the professor to let her switch groups with sunoo (it’s strange, how he seemed to be in almost every class you took, now that you think about it).
you’d never talked to him, or anyone from that little group, really, aside from kim sunoo. you knew sim jaeyun was popular over in the engineering block; all brains and good looks, apparently. nishimura riki was another name you heard in passing—always surrounded by a crowd whenever he danced with his crew in some random corner with a giant mirror. as for jongseong and jungwon… you didn’t even want to think about the things people said. absolutely vile in nature.
it seems like the whole lot of them were heartthrobs, in every sense of the word.
it’s just… park sunghoon?
that guy didn’t deserve half the glowing reviews he got.
you were half convinced that if people had star ratings floating above their heads—complete with scrollable comments—he’d be inflating his own with burner emails.
park sunghoon. 5 stars. wow, this guy is sooooo hot and rich! — nothoon12345. he just looked like the kind of guy who did that kind of thing.
okay, maybe you were being a little harsh, considering you’d never actually spoken to him. still, it felt telling when even other men talked shit about him: apparently being both the most disliked and the most respected player on the ice hockey team was impressive enough to land him the captain title.
he walks a few steps behind heeseung, his own bag of chips in hand. you don’t realise you’re staring until his gaze snaps towards you as he passes—a look equal parts smug, disgusted, and painfully punchable.
“what the hell is that guy’s issue?”
“stop looking at him,” jiwon waves you off, swinging her feet. her heel accidentally thuds against the wood. “heeseung's right there.”
your eyes flick back to heeseung, now hovering near the front door, greeting the flood of people streaming in—tonight’s barely started, but somehow, you feel ten times heavier than when you walked in.
lee heeseung, leaning casually against the wall, all perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfectly charming face… and park sunghoon, just a step behind him, stiff, scanning the crowd until his gaze finally locks on you.
before you can tear your eyes away, he cocks his head and gives you a smile—all mockery, all challenge, like he just told a joke you’d never understand. you shift your weight on the stool, cross one leg over the other, but your eyes stay zeroed on him.
“i don’t like that sunghoon guy,” you mutter, dragging a hand through your hair and pretending to look elsewhere.
oh jiwon rolls her eyes, snorts, and leans her weight back on the counter. “you’d be surprised how many people wanna get in his pants—”
“don’t. talk. to. me. about. park. sunghoon’s. pants.” you snap, stabbing a finger toward her chest for emphasis—she giggles at the action, and you do, too. though your eyes flick back, just once, toward where he was.
but when you do, he’s gone. no sunghoon, no heeseung. just the occasional partygoer opening and closing doors, the sound barely registering to your ears through the shitty music.
“how have you not drank anything yet?”
“i literally just got here!”
────────────────────────
it’s one in the morning, and the party seems to be at it’s peak—there’s no one else coming through the front door, and it’s more packed than you could imagine; you’re leaning against the staircase with a cup swirling in your hands, only having taken two sips out of it. jiwon’s still next to you, chatting to a guy you’ve never seen before.
you look at him, then at her. unimpressive, if anything. you’re turning to look at your cup again and the feeling hits, sudden and sharp as it claws at your chest: you feel extremely out of place, even in a house full of people and possibility. people shove their way past you and you hold your cup tight to your chest as it happens. you barely hear anything with the laughter, chatter, and music all at once.
your eyes drift toward the window—yunjin’s with someone else; danielle must’ve left earlier. you scan the room again, half-heartedly looking for a familiar face to talk to—sunoo, maybe, even if the guy doesn’t really think you’re normal. or for park sunghoon, perhaps for some explanation as to why he’d looked at you like that earlier.
“looking for hee?”
that voice. too close. it sends shivers down your spine, every hair standing before your neck snaps to your left—jiwon’s gone, and so is that guy, instead replaced by a girl you know all too well.
she’s smiling at you with her lips curled in a way that makes your stomach drop—unsettling by its very nature. the lights strobe across her face, red and white, purple and blue, painting her in something eerie as her expression lingers, sharp and all-knowing.
“what the fuck do you want?”
she laughs softly, hands coming up to her face to cover her mouth like she’s some gentle, kind creature that’s come to save the day. kim sooha’s always been like that. ever since high school, ever since you’ve been bestowed the honour of knowing how ruthless she gets when she wants to be.
her hair falls over her face before she moves to tuck it behind her ear.
god, you want to slap her. some things never change, no matter how many years pass.
“you need to learn how to relax. you’ve been staring all night,” she sighs, leaning her back against the wall as she talks—like you two are friends, always have been—and that this is the most normal conversation ever. “you’re definitely looking for heeseung, aren’t you? i got a shortcut, if you’re interested.”
you don’t answer. you’ve learnt it’s best to shut your mouth instead of lie, because with girls like sooha, the snake always bites first.
your mind flashes, briefly, to the image of him again: light brown hair falling over his face, his genuine smile as people poured in from the front door, eyes squinting as he spots a good friend from a few feet away. your eyes had never truly left him, until you caught park sunghoon staring daggers at you right behind.
and, strangely, it’s never found him again since.
“listen, i have his number—it’ll save you a looot of trouble.”
you don’t realise you’ve turned away from her until you glance back. her smile widens as you meet her eyes—glinting with something dangerous, like this isn’t truly all there is to her offer.
kim sooha is not about goodwill and donating to charities. the charity would have to return her 110% before she could ever consider doing so; in this case, the charity seems to be you.
“what do you want?”
and it feels like you’ve just sold your soul to the damn devil with how bright her face gets. like a child on christmas morning, unwrapping a brand new toy. well—you suppose you’re a toy, too, in this.
she reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, the jingle of her phone charm barely cutting through the kendrick lamar song that’s causing the floor to vibrate. you wonder how long until someone calls the cops on this place—it’s too loud, too much, and you don’t even want to think about what the second and third floor looks like right now.
“one click, and i’ll send it to you.”
you scoff, breaking the eye contact to take a sip of the peach soju in your hands. you almost roll your eyes before remembering that this was sooha you were getting in bed with—one wrong move, and she’s retracting, and you’ll be left to awkward waves and stuttered hello’s at the fundraiser three months from now.
“my jacket’s upstairs, and i need you to get it.”
if you weren’t confused before, you definitely are now.
“your fucking jacket?” you repeat, and it almost comes out as a laugh. she doesn’t think it’s funny, though, because she’s quick to fire back a response:
“i don’t want to bump into whoever you’re gonna bump into. not in the mood. consider it a gift from me,” she pokes a finger at your collarbone, “to you.”
you flinch, her sharp nail making you stumble back, just a little. her eyebrows raise as you tilt your head towards the stairs, watching you glance up and towards the flight of stairs above your heads—there’s people moving up and down, and it just doesn’t click—why not someone else?
“so… are you doing it? don’t have time to sleep on—“
you chew on the lining of your cheek. something isn’t right. she’s looking at you like she doesn’t care if her jacket actually makes it back to her—all that matters is that you fall into whatever she’s setting up.
“fine. keep your fucking word when i get back down here.”
the smile that spreads across her face makes your heart drop straight to your ass. you don’t like this—not the feeling of being a step behind, not the way it feels like she’s holding something over you.
but… like she said. it’s not as if you have a whole day to sit on your ass and think it through.
“you should know by now. i always do,” she sings, voice lilting and smug, watching as you turn away and head for the stairs. “thank you, dear [name].”
you pause at the bottom, fingers curling tighter around your cup as you glance upward. bodies move through the hallways above—laughing, stumbling, disappearing into rooms that smell like sweat, alcohol and poor decisions. the music thumps faintly through the walls, distorted here, like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you.
your head feels light, almost dizzy, but you go anyway. one step. then another. your shoes stick slightly to the floor as you climb, each step feeling heavier than the last.
“this yours?”
your head cocks up, eyes locking onto a familiar face—park sunghoon, standing at the top of the staircase, with a leather jacket haphazardly folded into his hands. it looks expensive when it’s under this kind of light, and knowing sooha, it probably is.
“yup,” you say, the word coming out more clipped than you intend. reluctant, wary—but who the hell could blame you? the guy who’s been staring all psycho and weird, treating you like an out-of-earth entity is holding onto the one thing you need to finish this amazing deal. “thank you!”
he’s tall. towering. with you two steps below him, he’s giving himself a stiff neck just looking at you. his face gives nothing away—not surprise, barely any curiosity, perhaps slight irritation. more than anything, there’s that unreadable calm, like he’s not only three steps ahead of whatever this is, but also skies above it.
your arms reach out to grab it from him, but sunghoon’s quick to retract his hand. he dangles it in front of you, an eyebrow raised, still staring as if you were some kind of odd specimen—you blink a few times, waiting for him to say something, anything.
“i’d watch out if i were you.”
his voice is low, nearly lost beneath the bass thudding through the floor below. it’s flat enough that it barely registers as a voice at all.
but just why the hell is he telling you this? park sunghoon’s talking like he knows kim sooha personally.
really, if you had to pick between the two of you… you’d have to consider yourself the expert.
“o… kay?” you mouth, the word barely audible over the bass thrumming through the walls.
for a moment longer, he just looks at you, then lowers the jacket into your hands. you don’t manage to thank him, because you’re turning around before you can even utter another word.
nothing else matters right now. you’re praying that by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, sooha will be there—phone in hand, ready to send those digits your way, just like she promised.
though, even if she isn’t, you’re not entirely sure what you’d do about it. there’s no backup plan. you’re definitely not asking sunoo—because you’re not an idiot with a weird obsession with lee heeseung (lie), and you’re not that desperate to talk to him (lie), enough to corner one of his closest friends and expose yourself completely (truth).
well… you guess you’ve already done so by poking around about the fundraiser, but his number is crossing the line. apparently.
you square your shoulders and keep walking, clinging to the thought that this will all be worth it once lee heeseung’s finally a button away, instead of thirty meters and 6 men apart.
“you’re quick with it,” sooha yells over the song playing, now a remix of some chainsmokers single. roses, a classic, which also means people are starting to get oddly energetic despite it reaching two in the morning.
you watch her eyes flick down to her phone, the screen lighting up her face as she brings it to her chest—typing, swiping, pausing just long enough to be irritating—until your own phone vibrates against the back pocket of your shorts.
“thanks a bunch, y/n.” she says lightly. “always so obedient.”
your jaw tightens. you don’t bother responding—just thrust the jacket into her abdomen, harder than necessary. kim sooha doesn’t take it personally, she never does. the flare of your nostrils, the way your fingers curl like you’re holding yourself back—that’s more than enough to make her night.
a sweet, disingenuous smile blooms across your face, as if to say: ‘no problem, bitch.’
she slips past you, shoulders barely brushing, already headed for the front door. just before she disappears, you catch it—the smudged eyeshadow, the eyeliner dragged unevenly beneath her eyes, foundation streaked down her cheeks like she hasn’t bothered to check herself in a mirror.
for a fraction of a second, you find yourself worrying—for her, and for yourself. you’ve never once seen sooha with makeup this (for lack of a better word) bad; she’s always immaculate, flawless, even if that bruises your ego to admit out loud.
which means there are only two possibilities: she’s just fucked someone and realised, far too late, what a mistake it was—or her heart has just been torn into a million tiny, irreparable pieces.
you don’t take much time to dwell on it, before you tear your eyes away from sooha’s figure slowly fading into the distance. her boots clack against the concrete pavement before it comes to a stop, and for a moment, she just stands—until a car pulls up and she ducks her head to fit into it.
what the hell was that?
the front door slams shut from someone else pulling it closed, the sound cutting clean through the music, and your head turns instinctively toward the staircase.
park sunghoon.
the second floor is quieter, stripped of the flashing colours and strobe lights below. in that softer, warmer glow, park sunghoon comes sharply into focus.
he’s leaning over the railing, forearms bearing his weight. an empty soju bottle hangs loosely from his hand, head bowed, expression obscured by shadow—almost like he’s staring straight down at you.
he’s annoyingly gorgeous. his side profile is so lethal that you think if not for his shitty attitude and tendency to stare at everyone sideways, he’d be a model.
you catch yourself wishing he’d just fuck off and do that instead.
your breath catches in your throat. you’re not really sure why—but your body makes the decisions for you tonight, thoughts of sunghoon quickly dissolving as fast as they invaded, feet carrying you toward the front door.
sleek wood and cold metal doorknobs in all their unassuming glory. it’s an exit. a way out of the noise, the lights, and the man upstairs who feels far too aware of your existence.
you move. fluid, deliberate, like this was always the plan.
sunghoon’s gaze tracks you as you slip through the crowd, hair brushing shoulders, bodies pressing in too close. the lights repaint you with every step—pink, purple, red—until you glance back once, just for a second, and the colours smear into something unreadable.
when you finally cross the threshold of the front door, your body is hit with cold wind; unsurprisingly, there’s scattered groups of people across the front yard, smoking and drinking in their quiet bubbles. you inhale the relatively cleaner air, deep, slow, until it settles in your lungs and you’re spared from the remnants of vape flavours and fruity alcohol.
the music dulls behind you, but the vibrations still reach your feet nonetheless.
you sigh, a hand dragging through your hair, before you make your way towards a stone pillar, only to lean your weight against it. you didn’t realise how quiet it could be, after almost two hours in that god forsaken party—the quiet chatter doesn’t make your head spin out here and the occasional laugh isn’t as annoying as the screams inside.
that’s when you see him.
lee heeseung—smoking—with that guy from engineering. jake sim.
the cigarette is pinched between his fingers, and he takes slow drags like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this messy, overgrown scene. jake’s rambling beside him, hands flying as he retells some story you can’t hear, and heeseung just nods along, offering the occasional laugh that reassures his friend that he finds it equally as funny.
everything feels slowed down. time is suspended. his hair slips into his eyes, and every now and then he shakes his head, a small, unconscious motion to clear his vision.
this is kind of creepy. you’re watching lee heeseung smoke at two in the morning from his front porch. you, a year ago, wouldn’t have believed this even if someone swore on it.
okay. that’s enough. you’re leaving—immediately.
but not before you bring your phone to your face—the blue light stings, almost burns your retinas. you blink hard once, twice, until the haze clears. your thumb swipes into your messages.
kim sooha has kept her word.
sooha (do not reply): +82-xx-xxxx-xxxx 01:53
sooha (do not reply): enjoy yourself! <3 01:53
bitch.
you add the contact while lee heeseung is still laughing in your peripheral vision, smoke curling into the dark, completely unaware that—through totally legitimate and ethical means—he’s now a button away.
─────────────────────────
park sunghoon was not interested in love.
this was, somehow, a known fact across campus.
anyone could guess by that stoic look on his face and that gigantic duffle bag he drags around everywhere, that the man couldn’t be paid a million dollars to be locked down—that’s what so little time and too many (non-romantic) commitments does to you.
mondays were the gym. tuesdays, practice. wednesdays, rest. thursdays, practice again. fridays, the gym, and a night run. saturdays and sundays, practice too. he was surprised he even had time to fit kim sooha into his schedule, though, it was not as often as she preferred.
okay, he admits it was just sex—but an hour or two once or twice a week was already cutting it close.
sunghoon was an ex-figure skater turned ice hockey player, so it was clear what the future held for him: he’s talented, rich, disciplined, a genius—the world was his oyster. everyone around him was in his court.
who would he be if he let someone make the rules for him?
you see: park sunghoon couldn’t be bothered with the girls throwing themselves at him, or the ones who acted shy. in his eyes, it all ended the same.
they wanted more. he couldn’t give more. he didn’t want to give more.
kim sooha was no different. of course she wasn’t—park sunghoon couldn’t deny it, because she fit the stereotype of every girl who’d ever wanted him: bashful, a little self-deprecating, and far too clingy.
at least he had been decent enough to tell her that sex was all it would ever be, and all he could afford to give. but what do you know (park sunghoon always knows), someone ends up wanting more.
the night of the party, around ten, sunghoon found himself holed up in his bedroom trying to finish up a paper before the house had started swarming with people. one moment he’s typing, fingers mashing away at his keyboard as the words flow flawlessly, perfectly, and his mind occasionally drifts to the grade he’d get for this assignment. nothing less than 100, of course. he wouldn’t expect anything less from himself.
“hoon!”
and his genius flow is disrupted by none other than jake, peeking his head from behind the doorway, with an idiotic smile painted across his glowing face.
“what do you want?” sunghoon mutters, head turning back to the screen of his laptop. jake sim’s prsesence usually meant the message wasn’t all that important—if it was, it’d be jungwon up here instead. “i’m busy.”
“sooha’s here,” he says. “she wants to see you.”
sunghoon kisses his teeth in annoyance, solely out of instinct, an action which jake pretends not to notice. it only irritates sunghoon even more, really—he’d rather jake just be honest with him, instead of pretending to be polite just for the sake of being polite. he knows better than anyone that all of his brothers hate when kim sooha is around, and that hiding it won’t convince park sunghoon otherwise.
for varying reasons.
he recalls that one dinner two weeks ago, when jay told sunghoon to ‘do a better job at shutting sooha up’. he could barely eat the rest of his food.
“please don’t send her up here. i’ll be downstairs soon,” and jake is almost ready to turn his pretty face right around and back downstairs to help set up the speakers, before sunghoon asks: “why is she even here?”
“hey, you’re the one fucking her, man.” jake shrugs, before he turns around for the final time. sunghoon’s face morphs into one of disgust, weirdly fast, even though the statement isn’t exactly false—still, it doesn’t stop him from wanting to crawl into a hole and die.
there’s something wrong with him. he can’t deny the sex was good, and yes, kim sooha was gorgeous… but commitment? staying? forever? that was different.
he remembers when yang jungwon had a girlfriend. those were not good times. definitely. the guy refused to leave his bedroom for two days after they broke it off—and sunghoon, as much as he cared for poor jungwon, couldn’t stop thinking about how two days meant two lifetimes of missed productivity.
just how much of an asshole could he be?
so, that’s precisely why he settles for sex. a dopamine hit to get himself off edge, so he’s ready to stretch himself thin all over again.
lee heeseung says it’s not healthy, but what the hell would he know? he’s too busy drowning in love letters, home-baked cookies, and instagram requests to understand why this is the best option out of any presented to him. the golden boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about—the only reason he even bothers giving advice is because of the one, maybe two girlfriends he had in first year, which he seems to think qualifies him as an expert in sweet, innocent, and healthy love.
park sunghoon doesn’t even have instagram. it’s a waste of time.
why the fuck doesn’t he get cookies, anyway? why don’t girls approach him just to talk, instead of trying to grind on his crotch at parties? why doesn’t he have someone sweet and steady, sitting in the stands and watching his games—wiping his tears when he plays like shit, or being the first one he looks for when he scores an amazing shot?
never mind the way he takes their hand and leads them upstairs. never mind how easily he leans into a stranger’s touch and lets himself pretend it means something. never mind that he’s learned to let names slip past him, unheard, while his gaze drifts instead to the shape of their lips.
never mind all of it.
he tells himself it’s circumstantial—something inevitable, something learnt. that he would be different, could be different, if the world around him didn’t demand this version of him in return.
lee heeseung gets to commit. he gets to feel it all—the highs, the warmth, the quiet safety of having someone stay, and he makes it out unscathed, unhurt. he gets to ground himself in knowing that she won’t walk out of that door when shit hits the fan, too—fuck, he doesn’t know anything at all.
footsteps thud from the hallway, but he knows it’s just jay and riki shifting furniture around—boards scraping, chairs sliding—enough to rattle the plaster on the walls. jake’s voice cuts through the mess, yelling at heeseung to find the extra loud speakers jungwon had “borrowed” for his own use. somewhere upstairs, sunoo’s probably napping, blissfully unaware of the chaos below.
sunghoon doesn’t mind. five people are more than enough to handle party prep, and he refuses to be dragged into it. the music, the clatter, the erratic shouts—it all feels like someone else’s life, a background noise he doesn’t need to claim.
instead, up here, he can focus on what matters: finishing his paper, keeping his head down, staying untangled in this mess that’s about to spill over the entire house in about an hour.
he leans back against the leather of his chair, shoulders finally relaxing, and lets his gaze wander over the room. the house smells like air freshener, a somewhat helpful idea proposed by riki, but the sharp tang in his nose makes him grit his teeth.
for the first time that evening, he almost smiles at the absurdity of it all, the chaos of his brothers trying to pull off another last-minute party. he knows it’ll all work out fine, and that this will be the talk of campus until it fizzles out in two weeks, but it’s still ridiculous how these people never learn to plan ahead.
he remembers the last party sigma alpha eta threw—someone broke a table, then went swimming naked in the pool. safe to say, jake and him had to track the culprit down the next morning and demand the funds to get it cleaned.
“hoonie?”
a soft click from the front door snaps him out of his thoughts.
he knows exactly who it is.
kim sooha. standing by the dark frame of his door, dressed in something that would’ve had him weak in the knees if he was some random horny loser—skirt smooth, tight against her skin, a leather jacket framing her small body. it’s too bad that he doesn’t give two shits, though.
“you’ve been avoiding me,” she announces, voice sharp yet playful, as if she owns the room that sunghoon’s made his. it irks him.
she leans against the doorframe, one hip jutting out, arms crossed with a face so smug that it makes him want to flip her off. “so, i came early. just to… check in.”
he looks back at the screen of his laptop, bright blue light shining in his face, and barely moves another muscle. “you know where the rules stand. i’m busy.”
“hoonie—“
“told you to stop calling me that.” sunghoon cuts her off, “i don’t need you checking on me, thanks. party’s not starting for another hour. maybe you can help them prep?”
the words land like a slap. sooha’s jaw tightens, but she forces a smile, refusing to let him see the way it stings.
she steps closer anyway, as if proximity can wear him down, break the walls that are already hardening—or climb over whatever’s already there.
“come on. it doesn’t have to be like this.” she tilts her head, letting her hair fall over one shoulder, “i’ve been asking you for weeks, hoon. i’ve always wanted—”
“no.” sunghoon exhales, forcefully slow, as if that’ll help him calm down. “i’ve been saying the same shit for weeks. you’re pushing me.”
she takes two steps closer, heels tapping against the shiny wood floor. the space between them closes as she leans over his desk, shadow casting over the dark oak. he feels like slamming his head into it—the bruise would be less painful than this, the sharp smell of her fruity perfume that sunghoon never bothered to register, but hates anyway now that it finally has.
he never thought he’d have to tell her that he hates the notes of citrus. it didn’t matter if she never stayed long enough to get the words out.
“hoonie,” sooha mumbles, hands bracing the surface of his table. “i thought we were getting somewhere.”
“even after i told you we weren’t?” sunghoon shifts his chair backwards, widening the gap just so he could feel like he wasn’t going to choke at the smell of her perfume. “know what? i’m done. can’t fucking draw any lines with you—“
“that’s it? we’re just—“
sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and he leans back slightly in his chair. “i said it was just sex. nothing more. if you’re begging for a hug and some kisses, go somewhere else.”
the silence hangs in the air, thick, impenetrable. for a minute, sunghoon wonders if he’s gone too far—sooha’s face falters, her sultry smile now replaced by lips that tremble before her teeth bite down on them. she nods once, slow, looking at park sunghoon like he’s driven a ten-foot pole straight through her chest, twisted it, and ripped it back out.
his eyes flick from his laptop screen to her irises. if one thing’s admirable about park sunghoon, is that if he was going to tear you to pieces, he’ll have the decency to look you in the eye.
at least, for that final word. it’s about as much emotion as he can manage.
“get out.”
so she does—nods slow, before turning on her heel, the sharp click of her shoes echoing once, twice, until it fades down the hallway.
the door shuts behind her with a quiet finality. sunghoon doesn’t watch it close.
the smell of sooha’s perfume lingers in the air, unwanted, and he feels petty for even trying to block it out. after all, they’ve shared a bed before, even if they skipped every prerequisite to get there—but it rarely ever felt worth it to him, if at all.
he’s had his fair share of women. he’s always prided himself on being honest about what he wants—in his mind, there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as everyone’s on the same page.
no promises, no expectations, yet it always ends the same way. someone always reaches for more pieces of him than he’s willing—or able—to give. pieces that have were never there to begin with.
jake tells him he’s lucky. says it with a laugh, like sunghoon should be grateful for the attention, the bodies, the ease of it all. heeseung tries to offer half-assed couch therapy, something about “opening up” and “not shutting people out,” advice sunghoon knows was pulled straight out of his ass—or worse, his tiktok feed.
god, if he wanted someone to tell him what was wrong with him, he’d just pay someone with a degree five hundred a session to do just that.
park sunghoon is not interested in love. park sunghoon is not interested in love. park sunghoon is not. interested. in. love.
it’s inefficient—unstructured, demanding, and prone to spilling into places it doesn’t belong. it asks for time he doesn’t have, space he’s already accounted for, pieces of him that are scheduled, measured, calculated and spent elsewhere, where it should be.
he repeats it like a mantra: no one is looking at him and realizing he’s absent more than he’s present—because sooner or later, they always want more, and he’s learnt that it’s better to draw the line early than to watch disappointment set in later.
this is mercy.
but to whom, he can’t answer.
─────────────────────────
you’re not very sure where you’re going with this.
there’s a list of problems so long it could double as a grocery store receipt:
one) how do you even explain that you got lee heeseung’s number, and
two) what excuse do you have to actually talk to him?
still, you’re laid in bed, the glow from your screen washing your face in harsh white light, painting the ceiling in sharp rectangles. your eyes squint, blinking against the burn, as if staring long enough might make this whole thing less terrifying.
it’s nearing four in the morning, and you’re fairly certain the party has been over for hours—probably everyone has stumbled home or collapsed on some couch somewhere, except for you, hovering in your room like a guilty ghost.
okay, no. these are excuses, and this is you overthinking, twisting your brain into knots. once you finally text that damn number kim sooha “gifted” you—reluctantly, no less—you’ll either regret it or… regret it. either way, there’s no turning back.
you: hiiiii
creep.
you: hi
ominous…
you: is this heeseung?
too direct.
this isn’t working. your thumb hovers over the screen, trembling slightly, and the numbers stare back at you like a puzzle you’re too tired to solve. maybe, if you stare long enough, they’ll rearrange themselves into an opening line that isn’t mortifying.
though, instead of the numbers moving, your thumb does.
“shit. shit, shit, shit—“
oh, yes, your butter fingers saved you the trouble of texting him: why don’t you just fucking call him, instead? like that’s so much better, real smooth of you.
riiing. riiing. riiing.
you barely have time to process before the line goes quiet.
the silence swallows you whole—your ears ring with it. it’s the kind of quiet that makes you question if you’ve suddenly lost all ability to hear.
oh my god. this is hell. you’re either died, or the world has ended, or some black hole just opened up in your room, because it’s too silent for it to be even remotely normal.
“hello?”
the voice on the other end of the line sounds sharp, clipped, like you’ve interrupted something important—or worse, like you’ve woken him up.
you can’t even fault him for it. it’s four in the morning, after the biggest party this term, and you’re an unknown number calling like you’ve lost your damn mind. still, it makes your heart twist a little.
“who is this?”
it’s not rude… not exactly. still, something in your chest sinks because you know what that tone usually means.
you have, roughly, three seconds to justify your existence before lee heeseung hangs up and you become another embarrassing almost in your own head.
maybe one.
“hi,” you mumble, and somehow almost stutter—if that’s even possible over the phone, with a single word—it comes out thin, fragile, and utterly useless.
the line goes quiet again, and you genuinely consider slamming your head into the wall just to feel something else other than the tiny voices evil-laughing in your head. “heeseung, right?”
more damn silence.
not the dead-line kind. it’s worse. it’s the thinking kind.
you picture him on the other end, phone held away from his ear, brow furrowed as he debates whether this is worth his time. unknown caller. 4 in the morning. zero context. and it’s some girl who can’t even say ‘hi’ right.
if you were him, you’d hang up. you’d block the number, move on, this becoming nothing but a blip in your already eventful life.
your grip tightens around your phone. “i—sorry,” you rush out, words tumbling over each other now that the dam’s broken. “this is probably really weird, i know. i wouldn’t usually call, i swear. i just—i got your number earlier and—”
“earlier?” he cuts in.
there’s something in his voice now—not annoyance. interest, maybe. a sprinkle of curiosity edged with suspicion that you weren’t exactly authorized to clear.
your pulse stutters. you should’ve consulted with jiwon before doing something as stupid as this—or sunoo. hell, even the neighbour next door. anyone would’ve been better than diving into this unprepared.
“yeah. tonight, at the party.” you say quickly, like saying it fast will make it make more sense. lee heeseung, pleaaaase be hungover. just this once. “you hosted, right? sigma alpha eta?”
“riiight,” he says slowly, like he’s testing the word on his tongue. “and who gave you my number?”
your stomach drops.
shit.
“uh,” you hesitate, immediately regretting it.
lying feels wrong. lying is wrong, actually, according to everyone ever—but the truth feels… way messier.
you weren’t going to hang kim sooha to dry—who knows what she’ll do to you? you can’t risk heeseung finding out the lengths you went to for some digits. besides, you practically played fetch with her.
“a friend,” you say finally, wearing a prideful grin on your face, as if anyone couldn’t have come up with that ridiculous excuse. “yep.”
“a friend,” he repeats, flatly, like he doesn’t believe a single thing coming out of your mouth. “what friend?”
you squeeze your eyes shut. god, this is going terribly. divert!
“look, if this is a bad time, i can hang up. i really didn’t mean to bother you, i just—”
“you already are,” he says, but there’s something off about it. his tired voice crackles, but it barely sounds angry. almost amused in nature.
you blink. “oh.”
there’s a heavy breath on the other end. you can hear it clearly, like he’s shifted positions, maybe sitting up now, or turning over in bed. definitely more awake than he was a minute ago.
gosh. you’re imagining bed-hair heeseung now. this isn’t good.
“you usually call people you don’t know at four in the morning?” he asks.
“no,” you respond immediately. “never. absolutely not. this is a first and hopefully, a last.”
that gets him—you can tell, even without seeing him. there’s a soft huff through the speaker, not quite a laugh, but close enough to make your chest flutter traitorously.
“so, i’m the trial run?”
you hesitate, then answer honestly, because at this point, what do you have left to lose? your dignity that’s already been thrown out the window and run over by a car?
“i wanted to talk to you.”
another pause. this one lingers, stretching just long enough to make your fingers tingle around your phone. strangely, it comforts you, the idea that he might hang up—that this could end cleanly right here, because you’ve (smartly, or accidentally) yet to tell him your name.
he’ll never have to know if he just—
“yeah?” he says, quieter now.
“yeah,” you echo, barely above a whisper.
something shifts. you can feel it, even through the line—the way he’s genuinely listening now, leaning into every word instead of brushing you off. your heart flutters, warmth blooming from somewhere in your chest (you can’t pinpoint it), and lee heeseung seems to be at the center of it all.
“well,” he says finally, voice way smoother now, like he’s got all the time in the world to offer you. “you’ve got my attention.”
“i do?” you ask, genuinely amazed by yourself. “you’re not hanging up?”
“do you want me to?”
“no,” the word slips out before you can stop it—soft, a little too quick, and much too honest to take back.
for a beat, there’s nothing, then a breath on the other end of the line—slow, deep—followed by a low sound that might be a laugh, or might just be him exhaling tension.
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i thought so.”
you roll onto your side, sheets whispering against your skin. the ceiling blurs above you, white and featureless, while the rest of the world stays asleep—unaware that something small yet irreversible is happening at four in the morning, right in this room, in your hands.
“so,” he says, “why’d you really call?”
your fingers tighten around your phone. your phone peels away from your cheek, and for a brief moment, you just stare at the glow of the screen, at his contact—*heeseung lee—*like it might blow up if you lie.
“well,” you mumble, chewing on the lining of your cheek. “i just wanted to introduce myself.”
“ah,” he says. there’s movement again, like he’s forcing himself to stay awake and hear you out. “did your… friend warn you i’m not friendly at this hour?”
you can almost picture him now. propped up against his headboard, hair a mess from sleep. his arm slipping under the hem of his shirt to scratch absentmindedly at an itch on his lower abdomen. knuckles rubbing hard at his eyes, chasing away the last stretch of drowsiness you interrupted—before you called, that is.
“i don’t think she mentioned that,” you say, a nervous smile tugging at your lips despite the fact that he can’t see it. your knees draw tighter to your chest, arms locking around them like you’re bracing for impact. it feels like there are insects beneath your skin—restless, frantic, crawling along the lining of your stomach. “she just said you wouldn’t hang up.”
“you trusted that?” his laugh filters through the speaker, low and unexpectedly warm, the sharpness from earlier dulled into something almost fond. “what if she gave you a fake?”
“then i guess i just woke up some random guy at four in the morning,” you say after a second, attempting nonchalance and failing spectacularly. “which would be… humiliating.”
“hm.” there’s movement on his end again—fabric shifting, a quiet thud like he’s moving around the room. god, you wish you knew what his room looked like. “so, you’d just apologize and hang up?”
“…literally what else would i do?”
there’s a pause before he speaks. you can almost hear him think out loud. “don’t know. try harder?”
the words are simple, but they settle heavy in your chest. what the hell does he mean by try harder?
“try harder?” you repeat, incredulous, a little astonished that the man you’ve dreamt up is a little different from what you’re hearing.
“yeah.” his voice lowers a fraction, losing the teasing edge and gaining something steadier. “if you wanted to talk to someone that bad, i’d hope you wouldn’t give up after one wrong number.”
your fingers curl tighter around your phone. “you don’t even know why i called.”
“don’t i, though?”
okay—what the fuck? you’ve moved somewhere closer to your window by now, staring at bright windows, counting the very few amount of people walking around at this hour downstairs. anything that’ll fill the silence between his words and your reply, which your brain has yet to compute.
do not call boys you like at four in the morning. note taken.
“anyway,” his voice sends a soothing relief through your body. “what’s your name?”
the question feels strangely intimate.
“why?” you deflect, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you are. there’s no going back from this—once he knows you’re you, it’s sealed.
you might have to discuss… alternative routes tomorrow. there is no way in god’s green earth that you’ll be able to face lee heeseung in those hallways once this is done.
“because,” he say purposefully slow, like he’s explaining things to a toddler. “if you went through the trouble of getting my number, i should at least know who i’m losing sleep over.”
“y/n.”
okay—flights to antarctica. a new name. a new identity is what you need right now, in order to combat the nerves in your body going into overdrive.
he goes quiet for slightly less than ten seconds—though you’re not exactly sure why you’re counting—and the quiet literally burns. it’s embarrassing to hear his breathing on the other end of the line, because what does it mean? is he disgusted? is he shocked? is he going to block you, or fall in love with you right now?
“it’s a pretty name,” he says. “haven’t heard it before.”
you’re fighting every urge in you to scream.
this feels oddly reminiscent of that middle school crush you had back when you were 13. it’s all butterflies and shaky hands, and even sweatier palms.
lee heeseung’s voice is silky smooth at this hour. exhaustion creeps up on him like it’s claiming his sleep debt, and you hear it in the tiny yawn that sounds through your speakers. you hoped that not holding your screen to your cheek would aid in the worry that he could hear your nervous breathing.
“well, we’ve never talked directly before, so…”
he hums in response. “well, it’s almost five.”
“trying to get rid of me?” you joke, and boy, does the post-flirt-humiliation hit—your eyes screw shut as you silently mutter a ’what the fuck?’.
he scoffs, “am i?” with the faintest trace of a smile in his voice. you can hear it well enough without the need to look at him—though that would be preferable—which only sends you further into a delusional spiral.
lee heeseung finds you funny.
you bite back a grin, pressing your lips into a thin line. your cheeks ache. you’re probably flushed tomato red from this conversation alone.
you stand up just to keep yourself busy. sittig still feels dangerous, like if you let your body settle, your mind will only follow.
the fear of focusing too much on him—on the way his voice dips at the end of certain words, on how easily he fills the quiet with that strangely confident tone—could be catastrophic.
your fingers trail along the edge of your desk, feeling the shallow nicks in the wood, the uneven varnish near the corner. you latch onto the smallest details: the coolness of the surface, the faint tremor in your hand.
anything to keep yourself grounded to the earth, in the very possible case that lee heeseung sends you into orbit.
on the other end, there’s the muted shift of fabric, like he’s rolling onto his side. you picture him staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the phone resting against his cheek.
“didn’t think you’d be the type to be so responsible.”
“one of us has to be,” he says easily. “you don’t sound like someone who keeps track of time, no?”
us.
the word slides into your chest and sits there, heavy and bright all at once.
us, us, us.
you hook a finger through the metal ring of the keychain hanging from your backpack and start spinning it slowly, watching the small charm catch the faint light from your desk lamp. “i absolutely do,” you protest, but the retort comes out thinner than intended.
“do you?” he presses, gentle but unrelenting. “you called me at four in the morning.”
“it wasn’t exactly planned,” you mutter.
“impulsive, then.”
there’s no judgment in his tone. he talks to you like you’re something intriguing under the lens of a microscope.
you cross your room in slow, restless steps, phone held up to chest-level as if the added distance will somehow steady you. the floor is cool beneath your feet. outside your window, the sky is beginning to pale, the darkness thinning into something bluish and uncertain.
“you picked up, though. you didn’t have to.”
the counter-argument is weak. there’s a brief pause before he admits, “yeah, so?”
“so, what does that say about you?”
your fingers still against the keychain. your feet stand still across from it, refusing to move until he says something to keep this seemingly empty conversation moving. there’s a short, succinct moment of quiet that makes you swallow.
and then—a breath. a faint exhale that sounds nothing like a laugh, but more acknowledgement than anything else.
“i make bad decisions before sunrise. i need my sleep,” he answers. “i got an early morning.”
huh. okay. your eyes are narrowing in suspicion before he can get the last word out. “how early?”
“early enough.”
you let it go, though the curiosity lingers. instead, you’re turning around to lean your weight back against your desk, pressing yourself against the solid wood edge, focusing on the cadence of his breathing. “you don’t sound tired anymore."
“that’s your fault.”
your pulse stutters. “mine?”
“hard to sleep when someone’s interrogating you.”
you huff out a quiet laugh, but your grip on the phone tightens. “i’m not interrogating you.”
“right.” the sound vibrates low through the speaker. you imagine him dragging a hand down his face, sitting up now, feet touching the floor. there’s a faint creak—wood under weight—followed by the soft scrape of something being nudged aside.
“i should probably end this,” he says after a moment, words slowed. “tomorrow’s going to be brutal.”
right—he’s crazy popular. probably has a lot going on.
you straighten instinctively. the conversation has shifted into its closing act without warning. “right, yeah. of course.”
“don’t stay up,” he adds, tone a smidge lighter, yet it doesn’t quite hide the undercurrent. “you’ll blame me when you miss your alarm.”
“bold of you to assume i’d admit that.”
“you wouldn’t,” he agrees easily. “you’d just call again. wake me up for the second time to complain, yeah?”
again.
“goodnight, heeseung,” you say before you can dissect the word further. any longer and you might’ve memorised the oxford definition for it.
a beat. you can hear a snicker on the other end of the line, but before you can say much, lee heeseung beats you to it.
“goodnight.”
the line disconnects. you remain standing in the corner of your room, keychain still looped around your finger. your heart’s drumming against your ribs as the early light creeps further across your walls.
your mind’s swirling again—it’s sending you further into that rabbit hole that looks a lot like heeseung’s perfect hair and charming smile.
note to self: call lee heeseung again. tomorrow. four in the morning.
─────────────────────────
the line goes dead.
the sun is barely peeking above the trees now, as if easing it’s way into the sky. he thinks it’ll be fully up by the time he finishes brushing his shower—and there’s that faint smell of citrus. again. disgusting.
a dull, faint thudding sound comes from downstairs. the sound of glasses clinking together reaches all the way up here; echoing in the dimly lit house.
it must be sunoo. making breakfast, he guesses.
there’s sunlight diffusing into the room, divided into slits by his white blinds that’ve all but stayed drawn throughout the night. skin’s sunken in under his eyes, partially, as a result of microsoft word creeping it’s way into his routine again—he supposes he should know better by now, but still. time is short.
his hands trail under his tank, scratching at a small itch under his chest. the metal hanging on the far wall catches the widening morning light, thin ribbons casting fragile shadows against white paint. a golden trophy sits dead centre on his dark oak bookshelf, polished to an almost obnoxious shine.
“fuck…” he groans, dragging both hands through his hair, fingers pressing against his scalp like he can physically push the night out of his system.
the strands fall back obediently, barely disturbed—as if exhaustion has weighed them into submission. there’s something irritating about that, too. like even his body refuses to reflect the fact that he was up until sunrise.
the weekend usually goes like this: brush. shower. dress. breakfast. run. shower. practice. assignments fit somewhere in between.
he begins to crawl out of his duvet. it’s cold—it always is when it’s this early into dawn. the wind kisses his skin like it’s reminding him of this fact, clinging to him as he drags his feet against the wood floor: slow, lazy shuffles until he actually manages to wake up.
open the door, down the hall, to the right. he passes by rooms, involuntarily listening to the muffled snores through wood as his feet carry him to the tiled room at the end of the hallway. the light in sunoo’s room casts shadows at his feet, peeking under the door, which confirms his suspicion: the waffle smell is coming from downstairs.
the door hits the wall with a soft thud. one perk about being the first one up is that the bathroom is almost always spotless.
his toothbrush sits in a black mug, along with six others. it’s a plain white, his name written in permanent marker at the handle. just in case a repeat of five months ago happened—nishimura riki, of course, making that mistake.
toothbrush in the mouth. bristles against teeth. back and forth, left and right, circles. gums. tongue. he stares at the stupid smiski figurine that jake left on the shelf just to give himself an excuse not to look at how tired he is.
and as he spits the mint paste out of his mouth—his phone vibrates against the marble counter. there’s water on his screen from putting it face down.
we2fuckincold🥶 (informal gc)
yeonjun (vice): good morning princesses 06:01
yeonjun (vice): rink opens at 6pm 06:02
yeonjun (vice): game’s coming up. do not be late or our dear captain will not be happy! 06:05
yeonjun (vice): can we all strive for a happy hoonie today 06:05
yeonjun (vice): also send ur fucking food logs bro @nicho 06:07
for fuck’s sake.
he groans, yanking the phone closer, tilting it to shake off the water droplets. the screen lights up his tired face in brief flashes of fluorescence, each message a reminder that the world outside this house has already started without him.
shower. breakfast. run. practice. the ritual is looping in his head, mechanical, familiar—but today, each step feels like it’s being forced through molasses. it’s definitely the microsoft word.
he squints against the glare, ignoring the faint taste of toothpaste still clinging to his tongue, scrolling past the ridiculous group chat chatter to land on the pinned schedule.
2027 training schedule.pdf
and at the top—his name, in bold, for everyone to remember, as if he hasn’t spent long enough drilling it into his team’s heads.
“captain: park sunghoon/vice captain: choi yeonjun”
sunghoon leans against the counter, elbows braced, letting the faint vibrations of the phone thrum through his fingers. the early sunlight, spilling in at an angle the shitty blinds can’t fully block, makes him want to shut his eyes and go back to bed—jungwon’s interior design choices continue to do him no favors.
he stares at the phone a moment longer, thumb hovering over the text threads he knows he should respond to. teasing from his fellow teammates that they know gets under his skin. stupid morning selfies that no one asked for, because the informal group chat is run by no one but the noisiest.
he showers. he’s downstairs. he’s shoving a spoonful of oats into his mouth, gulping down a protein smoothie like it’s water, and only then is he outside and tying his laces. it’s like he’s fucking teleporting around this place.
something feels off. he almost forgets his apple watch before crossing the threshold called sigma alpha beta’s front door. forty minutes later and the morning air is still damp with dew, the neighbourhood quiet save for the distant hum of traffic that hasn’t fully reached it’s potential yet.
the door shuts behind him with a click. heart rate: 93 bpm.
sunghoon begins his run like any other morning. the stretch of his limbs feels mechanical at first, the stiffness in his bones finally relenting after hours spent hunched over his laptop. he jogs in place, letting his blood move, allowing his muscles to remember their morning rhythm.
the street around him is quiet, edges softened by dawn—a stray leaf skitters across the sidewalk and the faint smell of a house’s breakfast drifts through the wind. everything is ordinary, almost painfully so, except for the faint pull in his chest.
god knows why.
a heavy sigh leaves him, curling into vapour the second it meets the cold. his calves are warm, ready to move, muscles primed for the first push forward—
bbrrr. bbrrr. brrrr.
choi fucking yeonjun.
“the hell?” he mutters, wrist lifting automatically as he taps the flashing green icon. “what the fuck do you want?”
there’s a small, sacred list of things that can truly get under park sunghoon’s skin. missed passes. sloppy drills. people who don’t keep their word. anyone who interrupts him. and now, apparently, choi yeonjun calling him at six-fifty in the morning, on a fucking sunday.
“are you on your period or something?” yeonjun’s voice comes through crisp and far too alive. “good morning, my honey bun.”
“stop bothering me.”
“how did you sleep, huh? why do you sound so angry? you usually save it for practice, in case you don’t remembe—”
the thought interrupts him so abruptly it almost throws off his breathing.
okay, to be fair, it was the assignments first. the blinking cursor, and the way microsoft word has this sick habit of stretching minutes into hours until the sky outside starts lightening without permission. he’d told himself he’d sleep right after submitting. just one more paragraph. one more edit. one more citation.
it sounded a lot like a random girl calling his phone at four in the morning. asking about lee heeseung, no less.
gravel crunches harder beneath his shoes as he picks up his pace without meaning to, breath sharpening on the exhale.
“i slept,” sunghoon says flatly, somehow. his eyes stay fixed on the long stretch of road before him.
he doesn’t bother to address that. not worth his time. “i’m running.”
a snort crackles through the tiny speaker. “yeah, no shit. i can hear you trying to outrun your personality.”
sunghoon rolls his eyes, though there’s no one there to see it. the park path stretches ahead, thin and empty, washed in early gold. right foot over the left, his stride perfect, pace never faltering. “why are you psychoanalysing me at seven in the morning?”
“it’s six fifty,” yeonjun corrects. he keeps running. “and it’s only cause you sound like you died yesterday.”
and just what the hell am i supposed to do about that, he thinks—it’s not his fault someone rang him in the middle of the night, asked for his best friend like it was urgent, like it mattered at all. it’s not his fault she ate up the remaining hours of sleep he’d planned to ration carefully. it’s not his fault she sounded so intent—so utterly determined—to talk to lee heeseung.
his jaw tightens slightly.
it’s also not his fault that she doesn’t know anything—who she was actually talking to. how easily she let the conversation stretch. how readily she laughed. how she filled silences that would’ve seemed suspicious to anyone else.
you’re so fucking naive. it makes him sick.
“are you trying to break a record right now?”
sunghoon glances down at his watch. his pace has increased by almost thirty seconds per kilometre.
what exactly was he supposed to do, anyway? interrupt her mid-laugh and tell her she’d reached the wrong person? tell her she’d misdialed and should try again? hand her off like a misplaced package?
park sunghoon tells himself he only kept the call going because it was easier, and that it was late—and most of all, it’ll only happen once.
that’s all.
“sunghoon.”
“what?”
“did you hit your head or something?”
sunghoon exhales sharply through his nose, pace steady, shoulders squared like they always are when he runs. unshakeable. “focus on your own head.”
yeonjun laughs. “wow. so cold. captain, your bedside manner is terrible.”
“goodbye, yeonjun.”
he ends the call before the vice captain can squeeze in another comment. silence rushes back in, thick and uninterrupted, save for the steady impact of rubber against pavement. sunghoon’s eyebrows knit together as he continues down the path, watching windows flicker to life in real time—one square of yellow, then another, then three in a row. the campus is waking up, unaware of the private absurdities that unfolded at the expense of park sunghoon’s rest.
and he wonders, briefly, if you slept soundly after that call.
if you rolled onto your side with a faint smile, phone still warm in your palm, thinking about lee heeseung.
or if he were the one you believed you were talking to, would it have sounded the same?
would you have laughed like that—would you have fallen for every word?
the thought is almost amusing.
perfect lee heeseung, who forgets half his deadlines. who shows up five minutes late with an apology grin that fixes everything. who doesn’t have to hold a locker room together or pretend his moods don’t exist. who can afford to be charming because nothing rests on his shoulders long enough to bruise. and still, you never fucking noticed the difference.
but the thing is this: park sunghoon might as well have his face plastered on billboards, because everyone around him knows—or thinks they do. they all see him. they’re all watching him.
a slightly clipped tone. a delayed response in the group chat. half a second too long between reps at practice. they notice. they always notice.
if he’s irritated, the team feels it. if he’s distracted, the drills get sloppy. if he’s quiet, the locker room gets tense. his mood isn’t just his—it’s contagious. spreading like hazardous, passionate wildfire. a fucking plague that everyone’s afraid to upset.
heeseung doesn’t need to think about that, does he?
heeseung doesn’t have thirty pairs of eyes scanning his expression the second he walks into the rink. doesn’t have rookies straightening their posture when he passes. he doesn’t have to calculate the weight of every word because one careless comment could echo for weeks.
how pathetic. sunghoon really has to stop throwing himself into self-deprecating chains of thought in the middle of his morning runs.
─────────────────────────
you move through the day like you’re on autopilot.
your alarming lack of errands feels like the source of your misery—nothing fills the time well enough. the clock drags its feet out of spite, each minute stretching thinner than the last, and there are simply not enough tiktoks in the world to scroll through until four in the morning.
…does it even have to be four in the morning?
you’re sprawled across the couch in your apartment, limbs loose, attention even looser. jiwon’s out tonight—dinner with that guy she met at sigma alpha eta—and you waved her off earlier with a distracted nod after sitting through a solid hour of her spiralling about how she’s “not sure if he’s the one.”
your fingers tapped impatiently against your phone while she twirled in front of you, once, twice, the fabric of her dress catching in the stale air of the living room. you were slumped against the backrest, head heavy in your palms, fighting sleep that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with boredom.
“i literally told you my opinion,” it escapes as a groan, your lashes fluttering shut before your head lands against the cushions. “if you’re just gonna keep going back to this dress, just wear this one.”
jiwon looked at you like you’d shot her in the chest. “you’re just so patient, aren’t you?”
your arm drifted lazily toward the glass table, fingers stretching for your phone like a dying man reaching for water. it’s barely out of reach, but somehow still too far.
you hook it toward you at last. the screen lights up: nothing. of course.
and then she continues to talk—something about silhouettes, about first impressions, about how boys apparently notice everything—but her voice dissolves into background noise. you nod when it feels appropriate. hum when she pauses, look over when she calls your name.
sorry, oh jiwon. you do not have the capacity to give a fuck right now—lee heeseung’s name is sitting on the top of your call log like a secret, ready to be shown off to the world.
“fine. i’ll just wear this—“
she leaves with her keys jingling down the hallway. you chew your lip like the short-lived guilt might manifest into an apology and hunt her down that corridor, but between you and literally anyone else?
it will be forgiven and forgotten when she returns tomorrow morning, you assume, only because there’s smuggled condoms in her purse—like she’s starring in some coming-of-age film.
the rest of the evening passes in a strange, slippery blur.
you’re cooking dinner at one point, staring absently at the stove while oil crackles in the pan, nearly burning the garlic because you drifted too far into your own head. later, you’re in the shower, steam clinging to your skin while you tilt your face away from the showerhead, replaying last night’s conversation in fragments—the way he laughed. the pause before he answered certain questions. the tone of his voice when he teased you.
you’re checking your phone again. this is definitely worse than that crush you had when you were thirteen.
─────────────────────────
a few miles away on campus soil, practice runs longer than it should. park sunghoon has sweat clinging to his skin, darkening the collar of his shirt, tracing the lines of muscle that took years to carve into something worth respecting. every movement feels marginally heavier than usual despite the near-flawless precision of his drills. his turns are clean. his stops sharp. his passes calculated.
still, there’s just something about today.
he pushes the team harder than usual. he tells himself it has nothing to do with your voice bouncing around in his head like an insufferable little ping-pong ball. absolutely nothing to do with the way you laughed at something he said at four in the morning.
it’s discipline. that’s all.
there’s hesitation in the juniors’ movements. it’s especially obvious in the way they avoid him—questions rerouted to choi yeonjun instead, who is currently preoccupied with his self-assigned duty of shooting nicholas with two pucks at once for reasons known only to him. sunghoon watches it unfold with a faint twitch of annoyance—he has to take off his helmet just to breathe right. sometimes, he genuinely wonders how yeonjun managed to snag vice captain.
eventually, though, the confusion climbs its way back to him like it always does. a hesitant shuffle. a cough. a poorly disguised glance in his direction.
“captain—”
his voice cuts through the rink’s cold air with surgical clarity. he explains every movement, every angle, every adjustment with mechanical perfection. there is no room for misunderstanding when he speaks. there rarely ever is when he’s this worked up.
by the time he gets back to sigma alpha eta, his muscles ache and his head feels heavier than it should—his skull weighing on his spine, every knot tightening in a body that was already rigid to begin with. even if he swears he warmed up enough, his gait still comes out stiff.
he heads straight for the bathroom after tossing his bag onto the floor, haphazardly by the doorframe of his room. the tiled floor is slightly slippery from someone else’s shower, much to his dismay.
he peels his clothes off, the overhead light catching the sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin. his gaze lingers, unintentional, over the familiar outline of his body—something he built, piece by piece, over years of repetition and restraint.
it’s taken him so long to get here.
park sunghoon turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. his eyes squint at the subtle tints of blue and purple, an occasional yellow and familiar reds.
a faint bruise blooms along his back—noticeable enough to catch his attention, but still subtle enough to ignore. his thumb presses into it briefly. it doesn’t hurt much, sitting in a valley between his shoulder blade and the deep impression of his spine.
he doesn’t dwell. no time. there’s roughly ten minutes before his eyes have to shut and his cells get to work at repairing the strain he never fails to put himself through.
the shower is quick. burning hot water pelts his shoulders, steam gathering thick against the tiles as the tension in his body dulls into something manageable. afterward, he downs another protein shake, the grainy texture catching in his throat like it’s meant to fill more than just hunger.
then, the sheets rustle as he settles in. tonight feels cooler than usual, though that might have more to do with the window he left wide open—jake sim always made the habit of reminding him to, otherwise, it’d be too stuffy. the blinds sway with the wind, wood tapping lightly against the glass in a steady, hollow rhythm.
no assignments. class begins early tomorrow. park sunghoon needs all the energy he can get if he wants to maintain that stellar gpa of his—it’s reason enough to shut his screen off and reach for the charger without hesitation.
this is what most nights look like. the temperature shifts by a degree or two. the sounds outside change. the air moves differently. but if he squints, it’s all the same, really. park sunghoon—the captain, the leader, the one everyone watches—falls asleep the same way every night, staring at what he’s built.
his gaze drifts back, almost involuntarily, to his now-dimmed phone. the last item on his mental checklist has been crossed off, but the weight on his shoulders doesn’t lift. if anything, it settles deeper, heavier, as the thought of monday presses in.
there will be mondays for the rest of his life. obviously.
it’s sunday nights like this—quiet, cold, stretching endlessly before them—that serve as meaningless prologues that do nothing but make park sunghoon feel like the loneliest man in the world, at the top of the chain that he’s tried so desperately to scale.
his eyes shift to the wall instead. an attempt at distracting himself.
medals, trophies, certificates. plaques stacked where there’s no space left for more.
there’s boxes shoved beneath his bed, too. filled with the rest of it, or rather, everything that didn’t make the cut. almost all of it’s in there—wrinkled homework from the when he first learned how to write his name coherently, all the way to the year he left his hometown.
it’s taped shut with cheap, barely-there adhesive, the kind that curls at the edges if you look at it for too long. he’s almost certain his mother shoved it in the car, insisted he bring it with him to college—something about keeping memories close, about not forgetting where he came from. he can’t recall how else it would’ve ended up here, with him, haunting his conscience like a guilty ghost.
sunghoon plugs the cord in, the battery icon flashing obediently on the corner of his screen. that should be the end—
ding!
his jaw tightens. his tooth almost cracks from how hard he’s gritting them. it’s even more annoying, because his arm’s already bent over the table, ready to drop the device on his small night stand.
so god help him, if it’s choi yeonjun asking for the practice footage again, or sending another half-coherent voice note about formations he absolutely should have memorised by now—
ding!
sunghoon exhales sharply through his nose and retracts his hand. the attention-aware feature on his phone causes his screen to light up almost immediately, and despite the fact that he was just staring at it moments ago, it burns all the same.
unknown contact.
he doesn’t even need to see the name. sunghoon sees the call log from last night, ending at five in the morning, and immediately knows.
y/n l/n: day went great btw 01:21
y/n l/n: not a single yawn 01:21
he’s going to bed. he’s tired, and he’s not definitely past dealing with a girl who doesn’t even care that he doesn’t sound like lee heeseung—or at the very least, not enough to verify that it is indeed park sunghoon on the other end of the line.
y/n l/n: i know you said 4am but i have class at 8 tmr sooo 01:21
absolutely. fucking. not.
riiiiing. riiiing.
park sunghoon is not picking up the phone.
─────────────────────────
“and then?”
he lied.
there are a few things park sunghoon would never admit to anyone else. firstly, that he’s terrible at making his own coffee and still gets riki to do it for him. secondly, that he needs to hug his ridiculously large, sausage-shaped pillow to fall asleep, or he wakes up worse than usual.
and third—
that he’s genuinely listening to a random girl on the phone, without slipping in a quiet, so are you coming over or not? somewhere between her sentences.
it doesn’t feel like a decision. there’s something settling into place, clicking in his chest before he has a real chance to question his own intentions. the words come out easily, slipping off his tongue and past his lips like water, because that’s what this is—natural, for reasons beyond him.
sunghoon lies back with one arm tucked behind his head, the other holding his phone loosely against his cheek. moonlight spills into the room through the half-open blinds, stretching across his ceiling like it has nowhere else to go. he knows he should’ve closed them earlier, but the thought passes without consequence, dissolving somewhere between the moment your name lit up his screen and now.
his hair falls in soft streaks across his forehead, long since dried from the aggressive towel action he’d put himself through not even half an hour ago—something he refuses to think about too meticulously, especially not in relation to the notification that had pulled him back to his phone.
incoming call from y/n l/n.
there’s a dull ache pressing at his temples, insistent, like it’s trying to remind him of something he’s choosing to ignore. he knows better than this, he really does. in the same way he knows that you think he’s someone else entirely.
he breathes, slow and deep like it’ll undo all the knots in his muscles. it’s strange that it’s working now, compared to all the times where he got a sports massage after practice with no real effect, and he wonders—no matter how absurd it is—that if it’s your voice that’s making him so, so sleepy.
on the other end, you never hesitate. you answer him with a kind of ease he isn’t used to, words flowing like there’s nothing in the world worth holding back. there’s something almost intimate in it—not intentional, barely meaningful, but there all the same. like two people who have already decided, somewhere along the way, that they belong in each other’s space.
the thought comes uninvited.
is this what couples do?
it makes him want to shut his eyes and forget he ever had it.
your voice carries through the line with the same unfiltered simplicity that he’s already starting to recognize—light, animated despite the hour, spilling from one thought to the next with barely any pause. there’s a lack of calculation in the way you speak, a clear absence of consideration in what words were okay to say, and what details were appropriate to omit—in which there were none. you even told him about your ten minute doomscroll session on the toilet midway through biochemistry.
it fills the silence before it can exist. it’s not like he’s not used to the noise—he’s surrounded by idiots who can’t keep their mouth shut, and god, has he wished for years that everyone around him would just be quiet for at least ten minutes—but when your soft, sweet voice rings in his ears, he’s not even sure what he’s feeling.
the realistic part of him, however useless he may be now, knows that everything is a lie. there’s you, rambling to him solely because you think he is the man you have that miserable crush on, and then there’s him: feeding your delusions, for his own selfish intents, as if that makes him any less dumber than you.
you’re talking to him because you think he’s someone else. because you’ve attached yourself to a version of a person that doesn’t exist on this end of the line.
he lets it happen, anyway.
sunghoon shifts against his pillows and the mattress dips slightly beneath his weight. the room remains dim, lit faintly by the fluorescent lighting radiating from his screen, probably killing off all his melatonin receptors by now—the dull wash of streetlight slips in, occasionally cut off by a passing car through half-open blinds. the air moves lazily, wind brushing past his skin, cooling what little heat still lingers from his shower.
his responses lag. he lets you talk. it’s intentional at first, an easy excuse for something he can fall back on. you seemed like the type who didn’t need much prompting, anyway—your words come in soft bursts of laughter, half-finished thoughts and tangents that circle back around before he can fully follow them. it should be difficult to keep up with, but as with everything that’s occuring, it’s unknown to him why it isn’t.
somewhere along the way, it stops being passive. there’s things that he’s noticing that he doesn’t want to notice. hearing things that he never means to. it’s lodged into his brain that’s already fighting for more storage space—your tone that shifts when you’re about to say something embarrassing, or how you rush through it a little faster, before doubling back as if to justify it. there’s pauses that aren’t quite pauses, just brief breaths where he can almost picture you thinking, deciding whether to keep going or jump to the next part of your day.
he remembers that party. he remembers how your hair fell on your face, and in the moment, sunghoon thought you’d just be passing in his already busy life—he finds it extremely irritating that he can recall almost every mundane feature on your face as if you were the most beautiful girl he’d seen. that dress that you probably found deep in your dresser and didn’t bother to smooth out, or that cup in your hand that’s barely holding any liquor. you were there for someone, after all.
he stood at that stairwell, watching, as if you were someone he couldn’t approach. please—if lee heeseung wasn’t the one you already set your sights on, he bets he could have you in his bed that very night.
if only he hadn’t froze.
you’re not anyone meaningful to him. you’re not supposed to take up what precious space he has for himself, and yet, here you are, barging into his life like you demand his attention.
it’s not like he’s any better, honestly. he knows that much.
“i was wondering if i should call, y’know,” you mumble through his phone’s speaker. he raises an eyebrow, as if you could see it. “it’s really late. don’t you have class tomorrow, too?”
“i do,” sunghoon sighs. he makes a conscious effort to stop himself from sharing which. “all day.”
unknown to park sunghoon, you’re lying upside down on your pink duvet, hair falling over the edge of your bed. you’re acting like you have no real responsibilities or hour long classes tomorrow morning, and that energy is somehow infecting him, too.
his grip around the phone shifts, thumb brushing absentmindedly along the edge of his thick case. the thought of telling you who he really is comes and goes without fully forming, though the feeling that claws at his ribs is quieter than guilt. it’s not sharp enough for him to address just yet.
you say something. he doesn’t catch all of it, only the way your laughter follows right after. sunghoon almost thinks you must love hearing your own voice with how giggly you are.
nevertheless, it pulls something out of him before it can be stopped. a response—low and tired in nature, slipping into the conversation as if he didn’t spend the past ten minutes wondering if anything he’ll say will give him away.
and still, you respond, picking it up without hesitation, folding his words into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“i didn’t even realise the time until i checked my phone,” you lie. “i’m sorry if you were just kidding yesterday… and didn’t want me to actually call. i wasn’t sure.”
“it’s fine, really.” sunghoon murmurs, voice low and threaded with sleep. “but you really should’ve called earlier. i’m about to knock out.”
there’s a soft scoff on your end, fabric shifting faintly. sunghoon’s ears pick that up, too. “you picked up anyway, didn’t you?”
he doesn’t respond to that, and the silence continues. it’s not empty or uncomfortable, filled with something else that simmers under his skin. he lets it stay.
you don’t push, instead humming like you’ve already moved on. you talk more about your day, admitting to things that you probably shouldn’t, voice drifting back into that easy rhythm that makes him want to turn over and shut his eyes for the night. “i kept checking my phone like something interesting would happen today, but…”
“nothing did?” he asks, eyes half-lidded—his eyelashes feel heavier now.
“wellll…” you drag out the word slightly, a hint of a smile tucked into it, like sunghoon couldn’t already hear the teeth in your voice. “i’m telling you about my day now, so i guess it all worked out.”
he exhales softly. his finger comes up to his face to rub at his nose, and he sniffles before responding, “that’s a really low bar.”
“i’m being honest,” you admit, voice dipping just slightly, unaware of the cliff you’re driving yourself off of. “you seem like someone who’s always busy.”
he supposes, in a sense, he is. just not in a lee heeseung way. “i’m not that busy.”
there’s a hint of disbelief in your laugh that fades quickly. it gives way to something more curious, and all it does is ease the conversation into something quieter and more fluid. your voice lowers as words blend together, and sunghoon finds his shoulders caving into his chest.
he shifts against the pillows, letting the weight of the night settle into his tired limbs. you wrap around him like a thread pulling taut—he doesn’t need to respond immediately; the words coming from you are enough to fill spaces he’s left behind.
sunghoon blinks slowly. “you’ve got me wrong.”
“yeah, now that i think about it,” you whisper. “i don’t think i know enough to be right.”
park sunghoon rarely gets nervous, if ever. there were a few times in fifth grade that he’d gotten a tummy ache before going up on stage, or in middle school when he had to give a presentation on the cultural history of korean calligraphy. he supposes the habit just vanished, because by the time he turned sixteen and played in his first hockey match, it never manifested again.
there’s a relief that comes with finding your coping mechanism. sunghoon never really examined why he would feel like throwing up before getting in front of a bunch of strangers, but he understood, even if on a very basic level, that hockey took that away from him—it’s the smooth slide of his skates against ice that tends to narrow down the world to just him, where nothing and no one else matters.
he’s not exactly sure why that is; reflection wasn’t really his thing. he knew it when his teacher would set him aside from other kids and ask ’how are things at home?’, to which he had no answers.
as long as it works, right?
still, it’s here now. that feeling of his heart dropping straight through his mattress, and his stomach churning something that refuses to let him speak.
“i feel like i’ve just been yapping,” you say. you aren’t wrong. it’s barely your fault, though he can’t really tell you that.
sunghoon swallows, throat dry and constricting around nothing. the grip he has on his phone tightens momentarily before easing again, his gaze darting around the room like he’s searching desperately for answers that’ll magically manifest.
he could say something. he should. something vague would be good. easy to follow up with, or be mysterious about. slightly personal so you don’t pry too much, that doesn’t let this tip any further than it already has.
and yet—the words don’t come. it barely makes it past his throat.
sunghoon exhales and the sound is almost lost against the line. “it’s getting late.”
it’s been ’getting late’ for the past two hours. his voice sounds worn, and he blames no one but himself—for letting his schedule fall apart like this, and still picking up the phone anyway.
and you, being the unsuspecting, naive girl you are—humming softly as if to tell him you understand. “yeah, i guess so.”
park sunghoon tears his screen away from the warmth of his cheek. only now does he realise how long it’s truly been; the absence of his warm device and the presence of cold wind hitting his face helps him remember how absurd this is.
he looks at the duration of the call, now barely over two hours.
the number sits there, steady and indifferent, as if it doesn’t account for the way time had slipped past him without resistance. as if it doesn’t mean anything at all.
for a moment, he just stares at it, his thoughts lagging behind the reality of it. two hours of listening, of responding, of letting himself exist in something that shouldn’t have been this easy.
this should end here.
sunghoon brings the phone back to his ear, the warmth returning in a way that feels almost deceptive now. he blinks once, twice, before clearing his throat. “goodnight, y/n.”
“goodnight, heeseung.”
the line cuts. sunghoon lies still in his white sheets, the duvet crinkling softly beneath his weight—though it feels heavier than it should, like it’s dragging him deeper into the earth. he stares blankly into the space above him, eyes fixed on nothing, as if he can’t quite register the way the room seems to close in, inch by inch.
outside, the world goes on, completely unaware.
cars pass. lights flicker somewhere beyond his window. time moves the way it always does—steady, indifferent to him, and for a fleeting moment, he wishes he wasn’t in this body.
the thought comes quietly, almost absurd in its simplicity. the thought that he could step out of himself and into someone else—someone forgettable, someone ordinary—someone who doesn’t carry the weight of expectation so tightly wound around his chest. he imagines it briefly, the ease of it: letting tomorrow belong to someone else.
letting the responsibilities, the precision, the constant awareness slip from his grasp for just a day.
just once where he doesn’t have to move like he knows exactly what he’s doing, or carry himself like someone people look up to—like someone who has everything under control, when the truth is that he’s no different from anyone else. just one fucking day is all he asks.
it was nice—the two hours sunghoon got to pretend like he wasn’t sunghoon. he could say it was almost natural, which only unsettles him even more.
he shifts slightly against his sheets, and the loud rustle only anchors him further into the reality he’s in. he blinks slowly before letting his eyelids shut, and almost as if to say ‘you’re never living this down’, your face appears right behind them.
here you are, reconstructed behind his shut eyes like you’re something worth remembering—it's your perfect hair. your eyes that dulled the lights strobing in your face. that dress that looked weirdly good on you.
this is so fucking frustrating.
─────────────────────────
you only see kim sunoo once a week. there’s careful planning that goes behind the days leading up to psychology of mass media—it’s the only hour you can get any intel, if at all, due to the convenient fact that sunoo likes to be the first to leave and last to arrive.
in reality, it’s just you showing up earlier than necessary, and lingering a little longer than you should in hopes that you’ll catch sunoo again.
you have one question. just one. he won’t mind, would he?
the lecture hall is still half-empty when you slip in, and the fluorescent lights actually burn—rows of seats stretching out in that familiar, uninspired gradient of grey and black. there are a few scattered groups that have already settled in, most of them slumped over their desks with jackets thrown over their heads. the sound of keyboard clicking echoes, bouncing off the sterile walls, and you do your best to tune it out.
it takes two minutes for kim sunoo to walk in, beige tote slung over his shoulder, stride light and easy—he always looked put together despite the hour. there were times you considered if he was a vampire, considering how he never looks tired, but the thought never sticks long enough to matter.
he slides into his usual seat without much ceremony, setting his bag beside him before pulling out his macbook. there’s a faint glow of white casts over his face, highlighting the smoothness of his skin, and it feels ridiculous—that split second when you feel a little jealous of him.
fifty five minutes left.
you move before you can think too hard about it, because you already know how that ends. your sneakers thud softly against the carpeted floor as you make your way down the steps, gaze flickering briefly around the room—not because there’s anything to actually be wary of, but because it feels like there should be.
as if anyone here could read your mind, and as if they’d even care enough to judge you for it. the thought lingers in the back of your mind all the same.
you slow just a fraction as you near his row, like the sensible part of your brain’s giving you one last chance to turn around and act like the normal girl who doesn’t care that much. there’d be some grace in taking that empty seat behind him and pretending like the thought of snooping around lee heeseung’s love life never crossed your mind at all—but it has to happen, and unless the gift of time travel is suddenly bestowed upon you, your ass is about to meet the plastic chair beneath you.
the chair creaks softly under your weight, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the low hum of the room. everyone’s blissfully unaware of the humiliation you’re about to put yourself through, though it somehow makes your courage muster a little easier.
“you’re staring at me.”
sunoo’s voice is monotonous. he doesn’t bother to spare you a look, because in truth, he doesn’t need to turn his head to see the way you’re burning holes through his.
“i’m not.”
he scoffs, though he means nothing spiteful of it. as much as he hates to admit, you were one of the nicer seatmates he had this year. “you are.”
“okay, well,” you begin, hands coming up from under the long, laminated wooden desk in front of you. you press them together, like that’d make things less awkward—your fingers fidget just for the sake of doing something other than staring at sunoo. “i was thinking—”
“about me?” kim sunoo smiles, still not looking at you. the corner of his lip is lifted up in something similar to genuine amusement, but it does nothing to help the embarrassment that’s stabbing at your nerves. “you’re blunt, [name].”
“ha ha,” you mock. sunoo can’t help but giggle at that. “the posters. outside. i saw them.”
ah. he sees what this is about.
soul searching ✦ booth 35, level 1, outside block A
friday, 10th september 2026, 1pm-8pm
❤︎ love life in shambles? wanna meet new people? come visit our booth to find your perfect match!
❤︎ a quick questionnaire, a curated pairing—one conversation might change everything. rumour has it that the first person you meet… might just be the one.
for early bird tickets, scan here!
the promotional poster that you stumbled upon was one of many pasted across campus. there were a few that jiwon mumbled to you about this morning, over the phone, and while you can’t exactly recall the exact details of the conversation, you just know it made her reconsider attending. it was obvious in the way she kept asking, ‘should i?’ followed by ‘i don’t know, maybe i should’, circled back with ‘i’ll think about it’.
it was for, roughly, five seconds that you wondered just how many girls would be lining up for it as well. you remember standing there a little longer than necessary, eyes skimming over the bold lettering like it was supposed to mean more than it did. the paper had been slightly wrinkled at the edges, tape barely holding it against the wall like it had been put up in a rush—but it was bright, unapologetically pink, and you almost grimaced at the thought of other people stopping to stare at it the same way you did.
you’d already decided you were going to go.
scanned the qr code right then and there, shamelessly, in the middle of the hallway on the way here—thumb hovering for less than a second before pressing submit, like hesitation would somehow make it worse.
the soulmate part, though—that stuck, unfortunately. it clung in a way that was irritatingly persistent, like gum pressed into the grooves of your thoughts. not because you believed it, necessarily, but because it was the kind of idea that refused to leave once it had somewhere to sit.
“so…. details?” you ask, a bright and inviting smile plastered onto your cheeks. “is heeseung going for sure? how does it even work?”
kim sunoo shrugs, typing briefly into his laptop before looking at you. “it’s a fundraiser booth. students sign up and get paired at random. i think, like, five seniors found their husbands here a few years back, and it’s been a myth ever since.”
you blink. “wait—so the first person you meet thing, that’s real? the soulmate shit?”
“yeah. haven’t you seen how many campus couples made it because of us? it’s really weird.”
soulmates. it’s all bullshit.
people talked about fate like it was something clean and predictable, like they didn’t sit behind the steering wheel of their own life. it’s as if someone or something invisible was guiding them—like there was a line drawn somewhere out there with your name on it, waiting for you to follow it without question until it led you to the right person.
you’ve never experienced it that way. if anything, your history with relationships feels like the opposite: bad timing, poor judgement, moments that almost worked until they didn’t. near misses are dressed up as something meaningful, but conversations fizzle out just when they start to feel like they might matter.
nothing stayed. nothing was ever meant to. you, having a soulmate—in that sense—it felt extremely unlikely.
it isn’t in a dramatic, self-pitying way—it’s the same way you understand that most things in life don’t fall neatly into place without sustained effort and consistency. relationships aren’t something pre-built that you stumble into, perfectly right and accommodating despite yourself, and they’re definitely not something you keep just because the universe decided you should.
couples will look you in the eye and tell you they’re meant to be, like it was written somewhere long before they ever met, but they barely talk about the parts where they almost walked away, or the moments where instinct told them to leave and they didn’t. the hesitation. the doubt. the very real option of not choosing each other.
fate, soul ties, forever. there are a lot of excuses people make when they don’t want to admit their own fault in something. it’s easier to dress things up as something inevitable than to acknowledge the effort it took to keep it going—or the moments where it almost didn’t.
do people just like pretending that they don’t have a say in what they do?
sunoo pauses, shifting his dark hair from his eyes before glancing at you. “do you think it’s cringey? saeri told me to remove that part of the poster… but i didn’t. it’s the charm of our booth, i think.”
“i don’t think so,” you lie, adrenaline humming through your veins. it is kind of corny, but who would admit that to him—kim sunoo probably doesn’t need more people hating on his poor slogan choices, and the more you act like it was a wise move, the better the chance you get paired with heeseung once he realizes you signed up. “i think it’s… uhm, plausible.”
anything but asking him directly, though.
“anyway,” sunoo glances back at his screen. microsoft word fills the entire monitor with graphs and figures you’re sure are from jiwon’s econ class. “i think everyone’s coming, except sunghoon. that guy…”
you raise an eyebrow. this is the first you’ve heard of him since that party two weeks ago—at this point, he almost feels like a hallucination. “sunghoon? what’s his deal?”
“he’s not a relationship guy. i think he knows it’d be a waste of time to sign up and make the girl feel like shit for five minutes straight,” sunoo sighs, leaning into his palm as if this were the harsh reality he’s learned to accept. “he cares, but has no idea how to show it. he’s like a three year old.”
you nod slowly, like you understand. you don’t.
though, something’s happening in your body that’s reminiscent of sunday night. it’s that odd, simmering sensation—proof. it flickers at the edge of your mind like a fuzzy memory, echoing that same low, lingering pull that sat right in the centre of your sternum.
sunoo’s cheek leans back into his palm, his eyes following professor choi’s figure that’s just strolled in. it’s your queue to shut the hell up and start preparing your materials for class, but it sets something else off.
you try, briefly, to chase it. to trace it back, to link it to something tangible and real and concrete. a face, a voice, a moment that would justify the way it settles into you so easily, but it slips through your fingers just as quickly, dissolving before it can really take shape.
“i see,” you hum. “well, i’ll come. don’t worr—”
“i wasn’t worried.”
“okay, then.”
─────────────────────────
the text comes while he’s brushing his teeth. his hair’s a mess as he stares into himself, eyes flicking down to the sink where some of his toothpaste’s fallen off his toothbrush—your voice is replaying in his head like a sick alarm, though he knows that it’s only because he’d hung up the phone only two hours ago.
sunghoon found himself silently praying that practice was cancelled. it was unlike him; the way he lingered in his sheets and had to take a deep breath before getting up. he dragged himself to the bathroom, hand swiping at the towel rack outside the door—hoping that he didn’t take jake’s by mistake, and begging (to whom?) that he wouldn’t need to use it.
snu hockey boys ’26 ⛸️🏒
yeonjun: practice is cancelled 06:32
yeonjun: coach has an emergency but pls send your food logs by 2200. whoever misses = double ur distance tmr 06:32
yeonjun: rink is still open tho 06:32
he took one good look at his to-do list this morning and resolved that he was going to the library. he’s fully convinced that if he lets his assignments pile up any more, his professors will start to think he’s slipping. god forbid—as if the boy hasn’t gotten less than a a in years.
we2fuckincold🥶 (informal gc)
nicho: guys pls stop eating by the benches too the janitors r gonna beat us :( 06:45
yeonjun: u guys cant fucking control yourselves can you 06:56
park sunghoon moves through the early dawn like he usually does, except that he walks right past the folded jersey and duffle bag already sitting on his desk. he lets himself slouch a little as he walks downstairs; the tiredness is already seeping in despite the constant self-correction.
it’s going to be a long day of cramming if he wants to get anything done, clearly—so he decides on unplugging his laptop charger, folding it neatly into the small zipper of his backpack, and leaving the house without his running shoes packed.
he’s still stretching when he hears the shuffle of footsteps outside. it’s too early for any one of his brothers to be up—on weekdays like this, park sunghoon was always the first to get moving, followed by jay in another hour.
it’s only six. nobody else gets up at six.
sunghoon reaches for the strap of his backpack as he makes his way towards the door—slightly ajar, swaying faintly with the draft, about to shut itself. it’s only when he’s a step away from the frame that he catches sight of lee heeseung walking past.
lee heeseung doesn’t get up until eleven.
reaching for the metal knob, sunghoon pulls back the door with more force than he’d like to admit, only to see heeseung—already at the top of the stairs, leaning lazily against the railing like the early hour means nothing—plaid boxers slung low on his hips, hair flattened in odd directions, and the faint imprint of wrinkled sheets still pressed into his back.
he just watches. doesn’t want to ask. the answer is already written across heeseung’s body in fading purples and reds, scattered along his neck and arms, threaded between the pale, healed superficiality of old scars.
instead, park sunghoon makes his way towards the stairs as well, with a backpack slung over his shoulder and an undeniable tiredness in his bones. he passes his dear friend before making his way down the flight of wood steps, feet thudding against the floor, eyes occasionally glancing towards the big entryway before him.
there’s a girl by the front door, half-crouched as she slips her shoes back on. her hair is messy in an unmistakable way, fingers combing through it as she balances herself against the wall using her other hand. she doesn’t look up, too preoccupied with fixing herself—it’s the last thing on her mind, and all she wants is to fit her heel into the mary janes she’s got sitting outside.
she pulls the metal handle, and looks back up at lee heeseung. nothing else is said, not even a wave, nor does he dismiss her presence—he just watches her warm smile curve up.
it feels like he’s walked in on something intimate. heeseung has a faint smirk that sunghoon was never able to wear when sooha was around, no matter how satisfied she made him feel, and he’s wearing that look of comfortable, guilt-free laziness that he recognises in the mirror every morning, after he hangs up on you.
─────────────────────────
sunghoon walks into the library like he owns it. professional poker face and all, heading straight for that seat by the windows that aren’t facing east, so the sun doesn’t burn his face off. just how he likes it.
the air-conditioning hits his skin and the lights above him are bright enough to sting. it’s enough to keep him awake for the next few hours, combined with the warm black coffee swishing around in his tumbler as he takes his time setting his stuff down.
a few stares and silent whispers are expected as he passes by the busier sections. he takes his usual seat—not many people know about it, due to the fact that it’s shoved so far away in isolation, miles from the bathroom and entrance, but park sunghoon appreciates this fact. nobody is around to stare at him sideways while he does his work, and there won’t be any eyes that refuse to leave his when he finally looks up.
the large, wood-laminate six-seat table was completely empty, and spotless. no coffee stains or broken sockets, and completely cut off from student civilization.
he settles into a bright orange chair by the window, where his face is obstructed by a large pillar—the sun warms his hands up as they pull his laptop out, already booted up from the night before, on the microsoft word home screen.
he groans when he sees at least three empty documents, all of which he meant to start yesterday. of course, that was the plan prior to your call, and sunghoon swore he’d at least try to multitask, if only not to feel the guilt later on. it’s obvious that he can’t do that anymore.
his slender fingers slide over the touchpad, navigating to his most urgent assignment for economics.
the cursor blinks at the top of his toolbar—it’s waiting for him to click something, anything, and he almost does. it circles around the add text box and darts away again, to open chrome. park sunghoon is staring at his screen like it’s a foreign, alien-sent object.
once upon a time, this would’ve sufficed. a quiet corner, an uninterrupted day, and his laptop on full-charge. work and productivity comes easily to someone as hard-working as him, and when there’s nothing else competing for his attention. compartmentalization is an incredibly common skill, but sunghoon is different, in the sense that he could live two separate lives in a single day, if need be.
though, these days, concentration feels far rarer than he’d like to admit.
the sound of soft, carpeted footsteps approaching barely registers in his ears. he’s too focused reading over the same one line he’s written—his name and student id number—to shift his eyes elsewhere.
his peers pass through this section all the time. not many, but enough for it not to be alarming. this was still a public space, after all.
his eyes remain fixed on the screen as he reaches for his tumbler, taking a slow sip of coffee. outside, the sky is finally brightening into that familiar golden, instead of a depressing, cold blue. few students pass by the large glass panels, some in clusters and others alone.
this is simple enough. all he has to do is write. sunghoon has the brains for this, the attention span, and overall capability to complete this useless assignment—so he adjusts himself further into the chair and begins skimming through the brief for what feels like the tenth time since it’s released. it’s all market trends, consumer psychology, something about forecasting models by the time the words begin to blur together.
the caffeine isn’t circulating fast enough. he reaches, sips again, and draws a deep breath in through his nose. halfway through his second paragraph, a chair thuds quietly against the carpeted floor, before the faintest “shit” is heard.
libraries are full of idiots. nobody can even drag a chair out properly anymore, apparently. now that the sound has derailed his train of thought, sunghoon can’t help but to flick his dark brown irises up, locking right onto you.
for a second, he genuinely wonders if his sleep deprivation has evolved into hallucinations.
of all the tables and empty seats scattered across four. fucking. floors.
park sunghoon’s grip tightens slightly around his black, metal rimmed tumbler, an action you thankfully do not notice. this corner of the library is so damn meaningless to him—but now that you’re here, it’s like this is all he’ll ever remember, all he’ll ever associate with the place.
the moment of recognition doesn’t last very long. surprisingly, it doesn’t send panic through his bloodstream, nor does it get his heart bursting out of his chest—though, he can still feel it pounding a little harder—instead, it’s just vague acknowledgement written all over that pretty face of yours, reserved for familiar faces.
park sunghoon. hockey captain guy. heeseung’s friend, the one who unintentionally stared at you sideways that one friday night (that he’ll never forget).
“oh.”
the tension binding his shoulders tight is loosened, just a fraction. the tiny sound leaves your mouth quietly, though it sounds nothing like shock, and it’s more to yourself than to him.
“hope you don’t mind if i—”
sunghoon’s response comes out rougher than intended. “no.”
you smile in response, and god, sunghoon wants to fucking drive a ten foot pole into his chest at the sight of your cheeks puffing up. there’s a faint flush on your cheeks from walking in the morning sun, and he notices a few blemishes on your skin as the sun almost blinds you—he can tell it’s getting into your eyes because you’re squinting. “you can sit here.”
you almost choke by the time sunghoon realises what he’s just said. “what?”
“it’s hot on that side.”
there’s three chairs on his side of the long, dark side of the table. it’s oddly poetic how he’s sat in the dark and you’re standing across from him, bathed in that golden sun like it’s your rightful place, and how he can’t help but have you next to him, even now, even selfishly.
fortunately, you save him the humiliation of walking away or just planting your ass down in the sun. you circle around the table, keychains on your backpack jingling as you do, and pull out the plastic chair two seats away from him.
perfect. it’s enough distance for him to pretend like you’re not even there. your gaze flickers between him in the corner of your eye, to the span of other empty seats in front of you. why the hell are you even here?
there’s a moment where he thinks you’re going to change your mind, get up, and walk away without looking back. it’s mostly due to the fact that you haven’t even set your things down yet, organised your stationery or even took out your sleek, plastic-shielded macbook. sitting next to park sunghoon when there was an entire eight-seat table like, ten feet away made most people nervous.
and still, when he turns (or merely pretends to by reaching for his tumbler again), he realises you’re far from nervous, and instead very confused.
your eyebrows are still raised in slight confusion, and you’re scrambling to find a pen you lost somewhere deep in your bag. flecks of dust float in the air, and one lands right on the top of your head—shining so beautifully in this terribly congested space, warmth bouncing off the dull carpet and reflecting back onto your face, dusting your skin like it knows how exactly to make him weak.
you don’t notice, but he does. park sunghoon is noticing everything, and for suddenly, painfully, and very unpredictably, he realises why people write songs about these kinds of feelings.
“do you need something?”
god, you’re so pretty. your eyebrows lift slightly, out of genuine curiosity (or perhaps concern, with the way sunghoon is staring at you… he can’t find a fault), and those lips of yours look so effortlessly perfect, soft, a faint sheen veiling it thanks to the lip-balm chained to your backpack zipper.
“no.”
and it’s like he’s slammed the door on you again.
again?
you’re not sure why you dwell on it too much, actually. most of the evening is spent staring at blank documents, because this module unfortunately included math, and for some odd reason, lee heeseung was always good at math despite being an arts major. he’d know what to do, and for a good minute you wonder if you should just call him right now.
you pause for a moment before your attention slips away from him again. turning back to your bag, hands still searching for something you apparently cannot find, your fingers moving with growing frustration through compartments that seem to hold everything except what you actually want.
sunghoon should probably mind his own business now, yet instead, he’s glancing over your shoulder and at your empty document.
he turns back to his laptop, slightly, or pretends to, lifting his tumbler just enough to give himself something to look at that isn’t you. in doing so he finally catches the full spread of your movement as you settle in, pulling your laptop out, then your charger, then your pencil case, then a small pouch that seems to contain an entire separate ecosystem of items, all of which you organise with a kind of quiet determination that feels oddly intimate to witness.
your brow furrows as you dig deeper into your bag, hand disappearing and reappearing empty more than once, and he notices the way your mouth presses into a line of mild frustration that never fully escalates into anything outright upset, just plastered there as an expression of someone mildly inconvenienced by their own decisions.
somewhere between your second and third attempt at finding whatever it is you’re looking for, your phone appears in your hand, screen lighting up briefly before you unlock it. sunghoon’s attention shifts almost against his will because the movement is too familiar now, even to him, with something he shouldn’t be aware of.
your thumb hesitates over the contacts screen. lee heeseung.
his eyes are beginning to strain with how hard he’s trying to make himself appear unsuspicious. you hover over his contact, before looking back up at your empty document, and then down again. hesitantly you settle for resting your phone atop the mahogany, letting the screen darken on the words ‘lee heeseung’, then typing your very first words.
the mistake on your screen comes predictably. that’s not to say sunghoon thought you were stupid—it’s only honest for him to say many people messed up the way you did. careless, happens when you haven’t spent the days prior drilling these kinds of theorems into your head. his eyes were starting to hurt, squinting, trying to see how to help you.
the guilt creeps up on him, unexpectedly. he just can’t.
it’s unfortunate that sunghoon already knows exactly what he’d do if he were sitting right next to you, looking over your shoulder properly instead of pretending not to while still catching every mistake you make.
unfortunate that the assignment in front of him is something he could finish in less than an hour if he actually tried, something so mindless it doesn’t even deserve the amount of attention he’s currently refusing to give it, and yet he keeps sitting there anyway as if the decision is more complicated than it actually is.
“swap your x and y values.”
sunghoon has never in his life packed his things so quickly. he’s already moving before he fully processes what he’s done.
his chair scrapes back lightly against the carpet as he gathers his things in motions so quick it almost feels automatic—laptop closing before his assignment is anywhere near complete, tumbler shoved into his bag without care for whether it spills or not.
you’re still looking at him when he straightens, your brows drawn together slightly as you glance down at your screen again, scrolling back to where you left off.
your expression only changes the moment you realise what he said was correct. the mistake is exactly what he pointed out, sitting there so obviously wrong now that it feels almost insulting that you didn’t see it earlier.
sunghoon slings his bag over his shoulder too quickly, the strap wrong-side up, before he quickly settles it in place. he doesn’t look at you directly again, even though he can feel your attention still on him.
there is no explanation he can give that wouldn’t make it worse. no version of this situation exists where staying longer feels safer than leaving immediately, because the longer he sits here, the more likely it becomes that something small will slip.
you will notice. it may be something in the way he speaks or pauses or breathes that does not belong to heeseung at all. he knows you will put it together, because these are things he notices about you, unwillingly.
so, he leaves.
sunghoon’s footsteps are steady as he moves between tables, fiddling with his car keys between his slender fingers—until he reaches the aisle where the library opens up toward the exit.
only then does he allow himself one brief glance back.
you’re looking at him, still. like you haven’t decided whether you’re supposed to stop or keep watching, eyes slightly wider than they were a moment ago, as if you’re still catching up to the fact that he actually spoke, actually stood up, and actually left without giving you anything close to an explanation.
it’s not like he owed you one, anyway. right?
there’s a faint crease between your brows now, nothing like frustration, instead softened into something that makes his heart twist and do all sorts of things against his ribs. it’s not an exaggeration to say that he’s never felt such a feeling, and it’s even more of an understatement when he says it scares him.
he almost trips over his jeans when he crosses the threshold of the library, out into the pavement and in front of the carpark.
sunghoon needs to go home. he needs to get his shit together and go to practice, like how he’s always done in the months before this, and how he’ll continue to do—and yet, god knows why he can’t even drive out of the lot, instead he’s glued to his seat with his feet planted on the mat like it’ll kill him if he stepped on the gas pedal.
sunghoon is already outside the library by the time he’s back in his own body, aware that he’s moving.
the air hits him colder than expected. sharp against skin still warmed by the inside of the building, and for a moment he just stands there, half between steps, like his body has forgotten what it was supposed to do next. the carpark stretches out in front of him in clean, repetitive lines, familiar enough that it should be automatic, but nothing about his movements feels familiar anymore.
“fuck—“
sunghoon almost trips when he steps down the last curb, not because he isn’t paying attention, but because his body is slightly ahead of his thoughts and neither of them are aligned with anything resembling control. he corrects himself quickly, hand tightening briefly around the strap of his bag, and continues forward in a way that would look normal to anyone watching from a distance.
sunghoon’s car is where it always is. he gets in, sits his ass down, and doesn’t move.
the engine is not on yet, keys resting in his hand without being inserted, and his foot stays planted on the mat as if there is some unspoken rule that says starting the car will make something irreversible happen. he stares at the steering wheel for a long time without really seeing it, jaw set in a way that suggests focus but is really just restraint.
that look on your face is so easy to remember. park sunghoon knows he has to tell you, if there’s any chance—any at all—that he gets to look at you like that again.
a curse, truly, because now he knows what it feels like to be so close to you, to have such a feeling strike him so deep, lodging itself in his chest; whenever your face pops up uninvited in his peripheral, or in his daydreams, or on his cell. almost humiliating and actively consuming his sick brain.
the honesty might not even make you stay, and it probably will not make the confession noble—it feels ridiculous to him, almost absurd, because the only thing keeping him tethered to his car mat is the replay of your face in his mind: so painfully uncomplicated that he can’t stand the thought of touching it with borrowed hands and stolen time.
he can still picture the way you looked at him across that table, brows faintly drawn together in confusion, not because you were intimidated or nervous or trying to figure out if sunghoon was really as the rumours say, but because you genuinely did not understand why he had stood up and left.
no expectant eyes, no carefulness, barely any fear. frowned when you were confused and smiled when something amused you, all with the kind of ease that feels so natural on you that he doubts you even notice it yourself. it is the sort of thing most people take for granted, he thinks. the sort of thing people are lucky enough to have for so long that they stop recognizing it as freedom.
sunghoon only notices because he does not have it.
hockey captain, top student, dependable, intimidating, disciplined, the guy could make his own dictionary with the obnoxious amount of adverbs attached to his image. almost every room he walks into seems to demand something from him before he even opens his mouth, and somewhere along the way he stopped questioning it. teammates watch his reactions before deciding how to react themselves. juniors reroute questions through other people because they are too nervous to ask him directly. professors talk to him like they actually have expectations—classmates wait for him to know the answer. even the fraternity treats him like a fixed object, something solid and predictable that will always be exactly where it is supposed to be.
then, there’s you. all perfect hair and soft lips and weirdly adorable frustration carved onto your face, sitting beside him with a pen between your fingers with the other hand on your keyboard. your entire life is on the verge of spilling out your mouth whenever you talk, completely unaware of how rare it looks from where he stands, saying things because you want to say them—because it’s funny, even if it’s meaningless, even if it contributes nothing of value to the conversation.
you call when you miss him, you laugh at his unintentionally self-deprecating humour, you ask questions when you don’t know. you get sad, you cry on the phone, and you get so ridiculously angry about such trivial matters, that he can’t help but smile at his screen.
for one brief, stupid, and careless moment in that library, sunghoon thinks he wanted to stay because you were pretty.
the thought survives all of five seconds. pretty girls are not exactly rare, but the feeling stirring in his chest and the warmth spreading through his body definitely is.
barely any of it has to do with the curve of your smile or the sunlight caught in your hair. instead, it had everything to do with the feeling of being around you, the uncomplicated nature of it all, and the subtle identity crisis where he did not have to be a captain, student, impressive or disciplined.
you will probably leave him, he thinks. the only other option seemed much too cruel, even for him, stripping that choice from you.
You: can we meet up? 12:34
─────────────────────────
ever since you moved into your apartment, you’ve been trying to build a routine—something efficient and optimal, taking up the least amount of time and effort, while maximizing the amount of tasks done.
the first few weeks were horrible—every small decision felt disproportionate and too time-consuming. there’s ten minutes you could’ve used to get ready for bed that you spent cooking dinner, which you should’ve made prior to leaving the house, bla bla bla. you knew it was bad when the sequence after unlocking your door alone was enough to irritate you: whether to eat first or shower, how long to wait before brushing your teeth so you wouldn’t scrub your enamel off. it was stupid, the amount of thought you poured into things that were supposed to be automatic, but you couldn’t help it. everything had to fall into place in this busy life of yours and serve it’s rightful purpose.
there were too many small decisions like that. too many things to get right.
maybe that’s why this feels so off. because there’s nothing to figure out, and no reason for it to happen so often.
there’s no adjustment period, no careful slotting of time or reshuffling of habits. he just fits into the spaces you’ve already made. it’s incredibly mundane and underwhelming in the way it happens.
for now, heeseung calls you almost every damn night, and you feel weirdly normal about it.
it starts on a random thursday. then it’s saturday, then monday, then tuesday. somewhere along the way, it stops being a coincidence or convenience.
by wednesday, you’re calling him to help you pick out an outfit for a department event, holding up different tops to your mirror like he can somehow see through the line. you’re describing the colours, the cut, every minute detail, assuming his imagination could keep up with your rambling.
on thursday, you’re complaining about how much you hate psych, words spilling faster than you can filter them. by the time friday rolls around, he’s the one calling—something about needing help with an assignment, though it diverges quickly into him venting about a useless groupmate in his behavioural economics class.
it morphs into something consistent, though, still strange regardless.
you could’ve sworn lee heeseung took his electives in art culture this year. yet, with the way he’s talking about stock markets and all rationality being lost on the modern day consumer, it sounds like he’s well-versed with the contents.
“you ate an entire block of cheese for dinner?” he repeats back to you. now that you’ve retold the entire process of cooking dinner, down to the amount of parmesan cheese you used, hearing it repeated back to you makes it sound a little insane. “you couldn’t just salt it?”
“are you judging me?” you giggle, turning over in your sheets. the fabric twists with you, cool against your skin and your joints protest almost immediately—your right shoulder’s starting to cramp from how long you’ve been hunched over on your side.
you let out a quiet sigh into the air. “it was a better choice. tasted good, so… i don’t see any problem.”
there’s a pause on his end. you fidget as you wait—picking at your cuticles, long overgrown and in desperate need of a maintenance check, even cracking your knuckles just to fill the silence.
“i think that’s the issue,” he huffs. your shoulders finally relax at the sound of him—lacking any true judgment despite his words.
there’s faint rustling that crackles through your device, and for a minute, you imagine how he must look like right now: laid up in bed in some old jersey, shorts barely hanging onto his hips from how lazy he is to tie the drawstrings tighter. the night’s winding down and you’re still here, with him, like this is an absolute must-do before your eyes shut.
and the routine must repeat tomorrow, of course. not that you’re complaining.
the rest of the conversation flows without much resistance. lee heeseung talks about his afternoon run that seemed to piss him off a great deal, because he got a call from choi yeonjun—something about being five minutes late to the gym and how he’s clearly not committed.
“oh. you’re friends with him? isn’t he in a completely different department from you, though?” you mumble, hoping that it doesn’t come off as blunt—you very well could have missed this detail in your earlier conversations. *“*how do you guys get to the point of going to the gym together?”
“he’s been bothering me ever since freshman year.” heeseung responds, “seriously. i don’t know how i haven’t strangled him yet.”
you chew on your bottom lip, searching for a response. the silence stretches just a little too long, and something about it starts to itch—like you’ve asked the wrong question and you’re pushing somewhere you shouldn’t.
“ah,” you say finally. “i see… he’s really popular, so i’m not surprised.”
“yeah, he is. it gets annoying as fuck when he brings his girls to lunch…” heeseung mutters under his breath—you’re toying with the string of your hoodie, if only to make yourself feel less awkward. there’s another long and excruciating pause before you finally decide to push the conversation in another direction:
“are you going to that fundraiser?” your voice comes out softer than intended. you can only hope that heeseung doesn’t make you repeat yourself. “sunoo’s… one. you know.”
“sunoo’s one…” he repeats back to you, slower. the concept almost sounds abstract to him. “no. not my thing.”
not his thing.
you’re back to fiddling with your fingers again. suddenly, the drawstring of your sweats seems more interesting than anything else you can hear from the other end of the line.
his voice fizzles out. you hear him, yes—his tired, monotonous voice crackling through the speaker reaches your ears and lands straight in your stomach. between short breaths and awkward pauses, you hyperfocus on the wind howling past your thin curtains.
“oh,” you manage after a moment. the word escapes weakly, scratching at your throat before you clear it up. “thought you were. my bad.”
you don’t realise how sweat-slicked your palms are until your phone almost slips from your hand. you turn over in bed, just to save your eyeballs from the sting of streetlights hanging outside your window—it’s almost three in the morning, and despite that dreadful fact, cars are still honking like they own the neighbourhood.
“are you?” heeseung asks. “probably, huh?”
“shut up,” you laugh. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
a quiet huff escapes through the line. your free hand traces the hem of your blanket, now tangled between your legs, serving no real purpose.
“it just sounds like something you’d be into.” heeseung states without a hint of laughter or a smile. “trying new things, even if they’re childish and embarrassing.”
“well—”
“it’s not a bad thing.”
you don’t respond immediately. a soft hum of acknowledgment is heard through the device—it’s barely triumphant or teasing—like he understands the reasoning behind why you’re throwing yourself out there, unknowingly, to him.
you roll onto your back again, tucking your arm over your belly. the cotton’s cold from the absence of your body against it, pillows still damp from your wet hair and impatient self; phone pressed awkwardly against your cheek, the heat almost battles that of sunday mornings.
speaking of, you haven’t experienced in it’s entirety for the past few weeks.
“why don’t you try it, then? it could be fun.” you murmur, eyes screwing shut at the instant the words rolled off your tongue. “sorry. you don’t have to… if you find it weird.”
his laugh makes your heart rate stutter, then spike.
it’s sweet. genuine. warm and unrehearsed in it’s charm, filling the dimness of your room and settling right under your ribs. your face burns up like you’ve just swallowed something hot, and the heat blooms right in your abdomen and crawls up your neck ridiculously fast.
“relationships aren’t my thing.”
lee heeseung says it like it’s already been decided—something fixed and immovable, written in bold or carved into a rock somewhere far beyond him. existing outside of his control, predetermined, and he’s made peace with it—it’s simply the way things are—though the heavy sigh that follows betrays him, outlined faintly with something that sounds nothing like acceptance.
the past few weeks have unfolded into something more than they should’ve. conversations stretching deeper than expected, softening and melting into quiet teasing that feels almost familiar, like you’ve known each other your entire lives.
“really?” your lips can’t help but to curl slightly upward. “you’ve never dated?”
“never had time for that. i’m not the best with affection. people talk to me like they’re scared of me, that kind of thing. even at that stupid party, i just drank by myself upstairs.”
perhaps your memory is failing you, then.
it’s strange, in hindsight, how most of your attention that night had never really stayed where it was supposed to. you remember the first few times you saw lee heeseung—his best friend following shortly after—and your gaze always seemed to lag behind who you claimed to like.
just how did those two end up together?
your seniors used to tell you to look forward to college. new place, new faces, new prospects—like the world finally opens up and hands you options you didn’t know you had. one day, you’re trapped in a classroom from seven to six; the next, you’re weaving through a campus that doesn’t know you yet, trying to decide who you get to be in it.
lee heeseung made it easy to know. he was the kind of person people noticed without trying. effortless in a way that felt almost unfair—hair falling exactly how it should, skin catching the light like it was always meant to. you’d pass by his friend group and hear him before you saw him, laughter loud and uncontained, a basketball tucked under his arm like it never knew how else to store itself. he fit into everything so naturally that it almost felt like the world was his and his alone.
it made sense to like him. and even then, your attention seemed to stray—slipping quietly and slowly just past him.
sunghoon hangs behind like it pained him to be around other people. always a little removed and distant enough to not involve himself in the conversation but not to turn around and walk away unnoticed; broad shoulders angling themselves slightly away, eyes flicking over other people like it physically pained him to see other humans.
it’s small, useless things. the way he’d shift his weight from one foot to the other when conversations dragged on and he was tired of it. his hands would stay tucked into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them otherwise. watching more than he spoke, like he was just slightly out of sync with everyone else.
you’ve only ever seen him laugh once*.* it was weirdly off-timed and the rest of his friends laughed only three seconds later. you wondered if all of heeseung’s friends were as strange as that, or if it was just him.
it’s weird, actually. thinking about it now, you realise you remember more about park sunghoon than you should for someone you never consciously paid attention to. his name seemed to be the last piece to his mysterious identity, no thanks to oh jiwon.
“i’m sure that’s not true.”
“it is,” he says. “i try to stay, but things don’t work out. rarely ever do.”
you raise an eyebrow. “work out? so you almost dated?”
“i show up. i do what i’m supposed to. it just stops feeling like something i want to be in after a while.”
“so you just dip?” you question.
“not all at once. i get scared. i pull back and i cancel things that i already fought to fit into my schedule,” he pauses. “i say it’s nothing. they don’t press much after that.”
you hum. the line goes quiet for a few seconds. you’re trying hard not to bombard him with every invasive question on your mind: who’s your most recent girlfriend? how long ago was the relationship? why do you run away?
he continues regardless.
“people get frustrated with me,” he mutters. “i can’t even handle my own emotions. i run from my issues and go on pre-workout to deal with my baggage. nobody sane does that shit.”
“heeseung—”
the name slips from your tongue like a mistake. you bite down on your bottom lip as if that would stop the words from echoing into his ears, somewhere, miles away.
“you’re the only girl that doesn’t treat me like that. i still don’t get it.”
just where did all these thoughts come from? there's weeks of conversations that stretched until midnight. unfiltered words that you silently agreed to keep between you two. your heart’s begun to match the rhythm of his voice, unintentionally, from the moment he picks up the phone to the second he cuts the line. somewhere between your first call to now, you’ve gotten to know him—it’s exactly why you can’t blame the confusion bubbling in your head or the pit in your stomach that only seems to sink deeper.
“aren’t you scared of me, too?”
and here you were, thinking that the answer was abundantly clear. he cuts himself off when you want to start rambling. he finishes your sentences when you’re falling asleep. he asks what ridiculous, unhealthy dish you cook up for dinner every single day without fail—so why does he still sound like that?
you shift slightly against your sheets, phone pressed a little tighter to your ear as if proximity could make sense of it. “i don’t get it,” you admit quietly. “why would anyone be scared of you?”
there’s a pause on the other end. it doesn’t feel empty. things rarely ever do when you’re on the phone with him; it feels more like he’s weighing whether to answer honestly, soften the blow or leave it alone entirely. “this is what i mean, [name].”
you frown. there’s a shuffle of feet upstairs, thudding against your ceiling, which momentarily distracts you. it’s almost four in the morning and nothing feels any clearer than it did ten minutes ago. “what?”
“you don’t care,” he continues. “simple.”
he doesn’t bother to explain further. he hasn’t bothered to say much at all, actually—not in a way that should make sense to you or anyone that knows the name heeseung. still, you understand it anyway, in that vague, unspoken way that two people manage to do, where language feels slightly too slow for what’s already being felt, and too shallow to tell the other person what you really mean.
there’s a hollow kind of discomfort sitting low in your stomach. you’ve learned by now that this is usually a warning sign, even if you don’t always know what it’s warning you about.
you’ve never had particularly good luck with these things, anyway. whatever invisible logic governs timing, people, attachment—it has never seemed especially fond of you.
you exhale softly, pulling your blanket higher over your shoulder, as if that might settle something internally. your gaze drifts to the empty space beside you, unoccupied, waiting in a way that feels louder than it should at this hour.
“what don’t i care about?”
your voice comes out as a whisper, unintentionally. the sound barely makes it past your lips, weak and soft like it’s embarrassing that you even thought about saying it and just plain humiliating that you let it out. either way, heeseung’s answering it seconds later.
“what people say about me,” he sighs, “i like it better like that.”
you don’t really know what he means by that—your hair scratches against the cold, crisp pillowcase under your head as you turn over anxiously. lee heeseung was very known, yes, but the way the words land just feels so… odd.
sniffling when he speaks again, the responses that follow never reaches your ears.
─────────────────────────
finals week has made you it’s bitch.
there’s something almost childish in how irritable you get in the days leading up to exams. you’ve never learnt to move past it, and soon enough, the people around you eventually adapted to the sensitive storm that is you, minimally three days before a major paper.
three rules:
one) do not disrupt y/n l/n’s naps;
two) do not text, call, or approach first, and
do not ask how studying is going. the answer is never changing: it’s bad, i’m going to fail, my life is over.
okay, to be fair, these rules were not as strict as they sound. most of the time, people are already cooped up in study rooms and occupied with their own revision—clearly much too busy to talk to anyone else, much less you. so, when your entire friend group goes awol, you do nothing but let it happen.
though, there is just one person that remains.
lee heeseung, sounding entirely too relaxed over the phone with a blender going somewhere in the background, because he’s making his second protein shake of the day. he doesn’t sound very… worried about the approaching three-hour exam.
your feet are folded together, criss-cross on your office chair as you hunch over your desk. your room is pitch dark, save for the bright, white light radiating from your study lamp—sprawled over the surface of your cheap table is rewritten notes, scribbled equations and the occasional bible verse (for good measure).
“you sound upset,” he says.
“oh, do i, now?”
you almost drop your phone at that. you’ve been silently panicking for the last forty minutes without realising you’ve been breathing like that, and talking like this. you’ve spent even more time, close to five hours on this laptop that’s crying for you to shut it down, on lectures that you should’ve watched weeks back.
there’s a pause on his end, something shifting in the background—cupboard, blender stopping, maybe him leaning against the counter—and when he speaks again, it’s slower. “which one are you on?”
“twenty,” you say.
“how many left?”
“twelve,” you admit, already hating how it sounds when spoken out loud. somehow, all hope seems lost when you utter that forsaken number, despite it being (very) obviously displayed on the top left of your screen for the past few hours. “…fuck.”
this morning felt like hell. you’re sure your eye-bags have magically darkened themselves in the past few hours, and for a minute, you grimace at the thought of having to show up to school like that every damn day, all because you’re too tired to seem put together. breakfast was skipped, which was unfortunate, cause the guilt of preparing a heavy lunch only made the stress worse. heavy eyelids blinking open, slow, regretful for every delayed hour of sleep—limbs still tangled in cold sheets like it physically pained you to leave.
the sun bled through your blinds, warm over your ankles and blinding you through your eyelashes. you walked around the house in nothing but your underwear, even forgetting your slippers under the bedframe; there was only one thing on your mind. that much stayed consistent today, with the only variable factor being lee heeseung on the phone.
you didn’t think he’d call. schedules do that.
“it’s manageable,” his voice crackles through the speaker, and then there’s the sound of a cupboard slamming shut, along with the soft shuffling of… something. you actually consider hanging up on him, just for a brief moment. “how many topics?”
to be honest, you’d half-expected heeseung to tease you. laugh, even. maybe even tell you to stop being so dramatic, to answer his texts, and that he doesn’t understand why you’re freaking out over a dumb test—but here you are, and here he is, telling you that you have it figured out.
“four. it’s over,” you answer flatly, staring at the lecture list like if you looked hard enough another topic might spontaneously disappear. “it’s actually so over.”
“it’s not, y/n.”
heeseung’s voice stays annoyingly level. the speaker crackles with something that sounds like a spoon scraping against plastic and the jealousy almost gives you whiplash. he’s making a fucking protein shake while you’re stuck here memorising lecture slides on two-times speed and slowly developing permanent neck damage.
“you said your paper’s next tuesday. if there’s four topics left and you stop rewriting things you already know, you’ll finish tonight and still have time to revise.”
your head hits the table before you even realize you’ve moved. forehead pressed into paper, warm skin sticking slightly against cheap ink and printer sheets, you let yourself rot there dramatically. with your phone right beside your face, his voice sounds clearer than before—too clear, actually—and it feels vaguely humiliating, how quickly your chest warms when he talks like this.
you let out a long breath instead of responding, eyes drifting downward toward the floor beneath your desk. there’s crumpled paper scattered near your chair. a few sticky notes had missed the bin entirely and ended up attached to the outside of it instead, clinging there stubbornly like even they didn’t want to commit to failure.
he’s talking like he knows you.
“how’d you know—”
heeseung cuts you off with little trouble. “you’ve told me. pretty sure you can cut some lectures out, since you’ve been learning them for the past few weeks.”
you don’t answer. you narrow your eyes at his response, because who the hell is that observant? he doesn’t even need to confirm your schedule anymore—he just talks and cuts you off, knowing he’s completely right, because he listens that intently—but god.
he has no idea how warm that makes you feel.
on the other end of the line, heeseung walks back upstairs with his phone trapped awkwardly between his cheek and shoulder, head tilted enough that his neck would probably hurt later. his laptop balances in one hand, tumbler in the other, and his steps slow unconsciously as your breathing filters through the speaker.
his room looks exactly the same as always.
his duffel is already packed for practice tonight despite being excused for finals week. the afternoon sun catches against the medals mounted along his wall and reflects across his desk in strips of gold, schedule taped beside his wardrobe. his calendar is updated three weeks in advance, with a single day blocked out for the day you end your exams.
his eyes drift over the reminders stuck to his wall, and he’s reminded of it—the reason why he decided he was still going to practice today.
studying isn’t enough, clearly, if he’s still on the phone with you.
he already decided that he’d wait. finals week meant distance. finals week meant no showing up unexpectedly and no making this worse than he already has. finals week meant letting you breathe and not letting himself confuse temporary loneliness for something else, and finals week also meant not sinking deeper into you.
it’s just two weeks.
two weeks, and then, he’ll tell you.
“do you think i’ll do okay?” you mumble, so soft that you almost don’t hear yourself. it’s so quiet that you can hear the exact moment his fingers stop clicking against his keyboard, and so intense that the second he answers, your heart begins to pound.
“yeah. i know you will.”
─────────────────────────
you don’t think much of it when you tell heeseung where you’ll be tomorrow, or rather, today. truthfully, you haven’t been thinking much at all lately—unless you count the thirty-second ponder about lunch options earlier this morning.
finals week does something deeply unfortunate to people. everybody becomes uglier in small, socially acceptable ways, because everyone around you just… gets it. hair goes unwashed for an extra day, clothes repeat twice, thrice in a row, and eyebags sink further in with no substantial effort to conceal them. entire friend groups, including yours, quickly dissolve into delayed replies and weak promises to hang out after exams, because who the hell wants a mass social gathering after four all-nighters?
your room starts becoming unbearable by day four. there’s something fundamentally wrong with spending twelve hours in one place—any longer and you might’ve begun associating your digital lock chime with impending doom.
the second you sit at your desk, your chest tightens automatically. it’sm like your brain immediately morphs the cute wallpaper around you into blank rows of seats, and your ears only hear mindless scribbling, despite the cheerful music blasting through your headphones.
by the time noon comes around, you’ve scarfed down every grain of rice from your takeout container—dragging your feet and will to live through your apartment, searching for your purse before leaving.
it’s wednesday. the sun is shining on you, warm and consequentially irritating as the sweat begins to pill on your temples. they roll down your cheek in fat beads, and it almost serves as motivation for you to get your ass into that library as soon as possible.
your macbook is pressed against your side, tote slipping down your shoulders every few minutes, only to be caught by the crevice of your elbow. there’s an iced coffee from last night, standing in for your mid-day snack; and, as if you hadn’t eaten just an hour ago, your stomach rumbles in defeat.
the library doors open as you stomp against the carpeted sensors. the cold air hits your face hard enough that you nearly stop walking, but you settle for a deep, relieving sigh before turning left and speed-walking down those winding corridors built out of metal shelving.
your body already knows where to go now—past the noisier floors, up the stairs, away from printers and bathrooms and groups of students pretending to study while giggling about their situationships at full volume. roughly fifty-six seconds later, your consciousness kicks back in full gear, and you’re dumping your things down onto a familiar table before immediately realizing that you forgot your fucking charger.
“are you fucking—”
oh, well. problem for future you. worse comes to worst, you’ll scare some freshman away with your horrendous, sleepless eyes and unusually wide smile and steal theirs.
libraries distort time as well as they force you to keep track of it. hours behave well in the quieter corners, but if you’re somehow in urgent need of completing an assignment, they start speeding themselves up. it’s exactly why you’re chanting mantras to yourself now: studying isn’t urgent at all. this exam will not kill me! yes! i already know everything there is to know!
afternoon becomes evening rather quickly. suddenly, your water bottle is empty, your iced coffee splits into two separate layers of cloudy water and room temperature caffeine, and the light crawls across the carpet so much that your chair is no longer in the same patch of sun you sat down in.
you stopped checking the time thirty minutes ago. notes multiply, hair becomes tangled at the back of your neck, and your spine hurts. you spent forty minutes writing notes on a lecture, not realizing it’s a replay.
sometime later, when your legs are beginning to feel like tv static, movement catches in your peripheral and your eyes lift automatically before your brain even has a chance to catch up.
“sunghoon?”
my god. just stand up and run into his arms, why don’t you?
his reaction comes a fraction of a second later. despite the prior brain lag, you’re suddenly thinking about his face—sunghoon looks different outside of wherever you usually see him. less assembled, with a ridiculously large hoodie hanging loose around his frame, which only makes him look even bigger from where you’re sitting; there’s shadows beneath his eyes that soften his face unexpectedly.
his hair looks horrible. his sweatpants are dragging against the floor, too. sunghoon looks exhausted, and his gaze hangs low, until you call out for him, that is.
the corners of your lips curl upward before you even realise it’s happening. his expression doesn’t change much, but the faint raise of his thick eyebrows tells you enough. his eyes flick toward the empty chairs around you, and you almost assume that you weirded him out—great, he’ll walk away now—but all sunghoon does is return a soft, supposedly meaningless smile in your direction.
there’s that brief moment, where people who know each other silently debate whether acknowledging the other’s presence is necessary in public—and then he gives you a small nod, right before he takes his laptop out and sits right in front of it.
two seats away from you. like last week. if you hadn’t met the man before, you would’ve thought he wanted to kill you with a face like that. eyebrows knit together in frustration, typing furiously at his keyboard like it owed him twenty bands, tapping his foot against the carpet like he was thinking about something deathly important.
cute—wait, what the fuck, said you, around fifteen times over in the past two hours.
you become aware of him in entirely useless ways. he drinks water without looking away from his screen, sometimes even types with one hand as the other holds that tumbler to his lips. he cracks his knuckles at every given opportunity, and his fingers hover over the keyboard occasionally when he thinks. you leave for more coffee, come back, go to the bathroom, and he’s literally still there.
at one point, you look up because your neck hurts, and caught yourself stretching. fucking stretching, left to right, just for an excuse to get a full view of his side profile. in that tiny, meaningless moment, you witnessed him rub his eyes and immediately return back to typing his unfinished methods section.
it’s strangely comforting that park sunghoon is there for you to look at. oddly. it helps with the whole ‘i’m the only one in this universe, it’s all a simulation’ delirium.
regardless, at around six, the words on your screen are beginning to morph into one big demonic face, and every letter on your keyboard just resembles an egyptian hieroglyphic. words are decorative, english is just a bunch of made up gibberish, and you need to get out of this plastic seat before you melt into it—so after rereading the same paragraph four times, absorbing nothing (shocker), your eyes begin to ache and decide: changing tasks will fix all these worldly pains you have.
the ‘changing tasks’ arrives in the form of a reference nook your professor mentioned. standing, stretching, you’re doing it all before disappearing into the shelves.
it’s warmer here than it is at the tables, somehow. perhaps it’s the way the sun is setting now, and it’s getting all in your eyes and in your hair, just like it did this morning. though, when you turn towards the closest, wide-set window, your breath almost gets taken away at the blend of pinks and oranges that colour the sky.
you see this sunset almost every day. still, it doesn’t take any of the beauty away.
dust catches in the overhead light, paling in comparison to the golden hue that the light is bathing the room in—the smell of old books penetrates your nose in a way that makes you think about middle school. you drag your fingers across rows of spines, reading titles under your breath, stepping slower in each aisle because your brain refuses to remember the author’s name. you bet sunghoon doesn’t struggle with things like that.
“behavioural psychology… where the fuck even is that?”
─────────────────────────
following a mini mental breakdown, park sunghoon’s brain decides not to accomodate a single molecule of information until he gets up and got his blood moving.
there was only so much economics and statistics a person could consume before words stopped behaving like language and started looking like numbers flipped around. his screen brightness had been lowered twice, and his coffee had gone cold sometime around four—the sleeves of his hoodie were pushed halfway up his forearms and there was a faint imprint from resting his cheek against his knuckles for too long, which he finds immensely humiliating.
he closes the document, opens it again, reads the same words over and over, and realises he won’t get anything done like this; so his eyes leave the screen for the first time in twenty minutes and settle automatically on the empty seat in his peripheral.
his head back turns so fast that he almost curses at himself.
and, to make things extra embarrassing, his mind starts to weigh the odds of whether you’re about to leave, or if you’re just gone for another break. scanning your side of the desk, taking in your untouched water bottle, open laptop and tangled wired headphones—you’re somewhere nearby, a conclusion he unwillingly comes to.
sunghoon’s fingers drum once against the tumbler before he remembers there was a book he wanted earlier. or needed. something vaguely related to an assignment he’d been putting off. either way, he stands, pushes in his chair halfway, and makes his way into the shelves.
it really does feel different in here. the high-pitched clacking of mechanical keyboards is muffled, almost muted behind these thick walls of books, where light filters in through strips and catches every speck of dust floating around. he turns once, twice, passing business ethics—until he finally reaches behavioural psychology, and stops dead in his tracks.
it’s not even about the book. if he remembered correctly, the one he was looking for’s two floors down, but this—here, in front of him, on this floor, was you.
sunghoon ducks into the next aisle like he’s guilty. he presses his back lightly against the endcap of the shelf, as though the solid structure might help him reset whatever just short-circuited in his brain.
this is ridiculous. he’s in a library. on a weekday. trying to study. and yet, somehow, his entire nervous system has decided that walking in a straight line is suddenly the most difficult thing in the world.
he exhales, before trying to occupy himself by looking for something similar to what he’s studying for another module. he stands still for a second longer than necessary, fingertips running against this one book which he can’t bother to know the name of, and all it does is feel like a weak alibi.
business psychology is a popular section. lots of students with sunghoon’s major share modules, hence, explaining why the other book he’s pretending to need isn’t even here. it also explains why the fuck his eyes keep gravitating towards you, through tall-enough gaps, locked on your concentrated face and frustrated pout.
every interruption in his life, somehow, becomes framed with you. a horizontal slit between two rows of books, a deliberate architectural hesitation, tall enough to fit even the thickest and tallest of publications out there—and you, existing between it.
it’s closer than before, not in distance but in clarity. the kind of proximity that does not require physical reduction to feel intimate. the light falls differently here, angled through a window he cannot fully see, softening the edge of everything it touches—your tip of your nose, the ends of your hair, and the faint movement of your hand as you adjust your page.
you look so beautiful. nothing has changed. he knew it when he saw you sitting in front of him today, he knew it when you walked into this place last week, and he knew it when he saw you at that party, wearing a dress that seemed so inclined to his attention and a smile that made all the flashing colours pale in comparison.
and, most of all, he knows it now. a fool he is, for thinking that these feelings would fade.
sunghoon tries to locate himself properly in the task he came for—something about organisational theory, a phenomenon he can usually reduce into clean frameworks and exam-ready structure. his hand has been resting against the spine of the book for the past twenty seconds, fingers curled just enough to suggest intent, but nothing in him is actually compelling the pull.
the thought arrives with a sharpness that feels almost physical, like pressure behind the ribs.
park sunghoon wishes he could redo college from the start. not in the abstract, as nostalgia or regret type thing, instead with specificity—clean edits to timing, tone, and presence. a revision pass on himself. one that would let him stand a few steps closer to you now, without feeling like the distance between yourselves is self-inflicted.
his thumb shifts minutely along the book’s spine. the motion is absent-minded, almost mechanical.
once you know who he really is—strip away whatever version of him you’ve only seen in passing corridors and half-glances at the long oak table—will you stop looking for him?
fuck. he doesn’t even care enough to stop looking at you. hair falling over your face, your lips blowing air to get the tiny, annoying strands to stop itching your nose.
selfish. selfish, selfish, selfish. that’s all he is.
─────────────────────────
─────────────────────────
august meant summer.
the sun is unforgiving, blazing hot rays beating down on your back as sweat trickles down your shoulder blades—everything about today seemed relentless, exam included. around you, people are already decomposing the paper in clusters: comparing answers, laughing too loudly, swearing they’re finished in voices that sound almost celebratory. someone says question 47 was impossible. someone else says it was free marks. you keep walking.
there’s that feeling when you finally press submit on a paper. not relief exactly—more like your body forgetting what to do after operating at full capacity for too long. to be truthful, there were multiple times where you thought you were fucked throughout the exam, and then you’d look at the bottom of your screen and see: 21 out of 80 questions saved.
you really, sincerely thought handing in that empty thing was better than typing whatever you studied. no matter how hard you worked these past few weeks, there was always that irritating, sly little voice whispering into your ear that it was for nothing. that all those late nights, colour-coded notes, skipped breaks and panic-induced productivity spurts would collapse into one single, defining moment that you were never going to catch up.
somewhere around the second hour—after your eyes started blurring and the timer at the corner of the screen felt less like a clock and more like a countdown to execution—you broke. quietly, of course. you had enough tact not to lose your shit in front of a hundred other students in the same venue.
you understood less than you thought. you should’ve started earlier. you’re embarrassing yourself.
you just stared at question 22 for three minutes straight and felt your throat tighten because suddenly, everything became impossible at once. reading felt impossible. thinking felt impossible. even moving your cursor felt weirdly impossible. you literally just bought it yesterday, because you were convinced the one you always use would die.
fuck everything, you thought, until some other voice started talking to you—in that calm, gentle demeanour that you’ve gotten used to over months. low and amused in tone when he said, “why’re you so hard on yourself, y/n?”
last night, he was on the phone with you. you remember lying flat on your bed with your notes open but untouched, your lamp the only thing still awake in your room. coffee wasn’t doing it, or maybe it was just the fact that it was your sixth cup today; he’d called later than usual, and somehow the conversation drifted away from exams, and shifted more toward your incessant need to be perfect, despite and in spite of the circumstances.
“what do you mean?”
moonlight spilling in through thin curtains, the thrum of public transport and dogs taking late-night walks with owners who talk too loud on the phone. no one knew where you were, no one cared what you were doing, but it didn’t matter. he knew. he cared.
you don’t even remember how the conversation got there, either. was it some joke about failing? one too many of those were made, now that you think about it. it wasn’t even self-pitying, either—all casual in the way that people talk, repeating the same thing enough times that it sounds like truth—but then he went quiet and said, “you talk like you’ve already decided on fucking it up.”
you remember laughing. whatever, because what do you do when someone says something so accurate? what the hell do you say when someone sees right **through you?
“i just have bad luck in these things.”
he laughed. fucking laughed. it was this short, incredulous breath through his nose like he couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused. “you study all day, every day, and act surprised when you know the material.”
you frowned automatically. “well—”
“no,” he interrupted. “you’re smart. hard working. you’re trying, and i don’t think you should dismiss those efforts.”
“but—”
“i have to get back to work,” he breathed into the phone. his voice dropped slightly at the end, words softened by distance and whatever position he’d shifted into. you could hear movement through the phone—the subtle crackle of fabric, the hollow acoustics of a room that sounded emptier than yours. “get some sleep before your exam. goodnight.”
no good-lucks, no you’ll-do-wells, no last minute reassurance that would only soothe your nerves for ten minutes before you’d spiral again. last night, it had seemed cruel. not in the obvious sense—he wasn’t mean nor dismissive—but there was something irritatingly unsympathetic about the way he refused to give in to you. you’d left that call mildly offended, convinced he was sick of hearing you talk like that. sick of your catastrophizing, sick of your weird habit of turning every achievement into an exception and every mistake into evidence. sick of you.
yet, now, walking towards your car with the heat sitting heavy against your skin and your student id still peeking out the pocket of your jeans, it seemed more like belief.
in you, that is. almost as if that you doing terribly had never come across his mind, occurring as a possibility.
you recall staring at your ceiling, phone falling face flat to your mattress, face flushed with embarassment and annoyance that only seemed to erupt when it came to late replies and slightly off-sounding tones. it’s almost exclusive to him—you were never that great at reading rooms, after all.
your car keys twirl around your index finger, a different spring in your step now that the bitter taste of last night has dissolved completely. you’ll call him tonight, later, maybe once your foot crosses the threshold known as your front door, or once you step into the car. you’ll tell him about the exam, about how there was a moment where you genuinely considered submitting half a paper because, somehow, failing after trying felt more humiliating than failing without trying.
you’ll tell him that his stupidly calm voice somehow survived twelve hours and a three-hour exam. that while you were sitting there spiralling and preparing to abandon the entire thing, you remembered the way he said it—like he knew, understood, and reached for you when you abandoned yourself.
you’re already halfway through mentally composing the conversation when movement ahead catches your attention. someone’s walking towards you from the opposite direction, feet dragging against concrete in a way that would usually annoy, but instead of diverting your attention to the phone in your pocket—you look up.
you recognize him immediately. lee heeseung.
weirdly enough, you haven’t seen him up close around campus for the past three months. you assumed it was probably because he was just that busy—you’d seen his figure in the distance, but by the time you caught up, he’d be gone. there were tons of excuses that he made up on the phone, too, earlier into your relationship: personal projects, mostly, though the details were always lacking.
perfect hair. perfect face. perfect stride. even now, people notice him as he walks past. conversations soften for half a second, eyes lifting instinctively and following his pace before returning to wherever they were before. heeseung moves through it without acknowledging anything, shoulders relaxed, expression neutral, looking exactly like someone who’s long stopped recognizing attention as something unusual.
you straighten automatically, lifting your hand, almost waving, but not quite yet. heeseung doesn’t even need to see it in motion for him to look right into your eyes.
his expression shifts—something adjacent to confusion, an eyebrow raised as if to say, where do i know you from?
notes: as we can see here sunghoons a bit unstable mentally… but i’m so sorry for the wait on this! and for toxic jungwon lmfaoo that will be out soon i know thats heavily awaited for but i promise i didnt forget about u guys!! this one is a bit heavy so beware but the reason i’ve been so busy is bc i graduated and went on vacation lol. so better things are coming soon!! also.. did anyone peep where he started sober up?
we are a beautiful disaster, but selfishly i don't care about the wreckage as long as i get to keep consuming you.
(박성훈 x fem reader) what are you waiting for? you got me lost in the clutch of you, and what's worst to know, i got a girl at home and my baby loves me more. what are you waiting for? ‘cause maybe her loving me with much wont do ─ lavender sunflower
༄❣︎ ─ psst hello, this was supposed to be longer i swear but i’m thinking of doing a longer part 2 with the full version of how it all started plus maybe some jealousy from both sunghoon and reader ? i’d like to see yuri catching on a little too ?? idk <33 let me know if that’s something you guys would like to see.
smut advisory oral (fem rec), cunnilingus, pussy eating, dirty-talking, teasing, sunghoon swallows readers cum, masturbation, mention of virginity loss, sunghoon cums in his pants, sneaky, mentions of sunghoon’s girlfriend, no p in v sex (yet ;) basically just porn with plot <33
“i’m serious yn, you make the best fucking cookies” sunghoon groans taking another bite, eyebrows stitched together at the taste. he usually gets like this.
aggressive when he eats.
you lean forward on your kitchen counter, chin in your hands. “you think so?” a small smile makes its way across your face when he nods, wiping the crumbs off his sweatpants.
“that’s good to hear” you stand up straight now, busying yourself by putting away trays— attempting to clean up your kitchen at least a little before your parents get back.
it’s late. coming on 9.
sunghoon just watches you from your counter, swinging side to side on your kitchen bar stool. there’s a comfortable beat of silence between you two as you wash up.
having been best friends for years now, you enjoy each others company— even if it’s just this, silence.
his eyes drape over your figure taking in your outfit for the first time tonight.
you’re dressed in that little black mini skirt that sunghoon always says could be mistaken for a headband, along with a white blouse, the first two buttons undone— exposing a little cleavage but not too much that it’s obvious.
he clears his throat, you turn off the sink.
“why are you all dolled up tonight anyways?” curiosity gets the best of him. his phone buzzes in his pocket but his eyes stay locked on your back until you turn.
“i’ve got a date” you answer, drying your hands with your kitchen towel. you’re not nervous to tell him. he’s your best friend after all. sunghoon raises an eyebrow.
“a date huh?” he nods to himself running a hand through his messy dark hair. he’s trying hard to look unbothered, “with who?” you shrug.
“this guy i’ve been seeing”
he follows you into the living room, standing tall behind you, his cologne now stronger. “do i know him?” your breath hitches at his tone, low— careful. you turn to face him, your eyes scanning his stern face, he looks frustrated? you frown. “yeah his name’s jungwon, i think you two have math together?” sunghoon’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.
“yeah we do, chill guy” without another word he plops himself on your couch, legs spread comfortably, right arm draped along the back, like it’s his own house. which technically it is. you two basically grew up together— many memories, play dates— in this house. it was like a second home for sunghoon.
you sit down beside him, eyes on the clock beside your tv— your parents should be home any minute now, and jungwon was scheduled to pick you up at half nine. you called sunghoon to come over to keep you company in the meantime. you two had been so caught up with school work you hadn’t hung out in a while.
sunghoon agreed, of course— he always did. coming straight to your place after his shift. his phone buzzes again and this time he decides to check it.
you raise an eyebrow at him, “yuri?” his eyes meet yours. yuri was sunghoon’s girlfriend of six months. it’s safe to say the two of them were in love.
he took her out often, bought her flowers every weekend, complimented her daily even posted her all over his social media. it was hard to understand though, because all the things he had done for yuri in the past six months, he’s been doing them for you for years.
sunghoon takes you out at least once a week even if it’s just to the movies. he buys you flowers when he knows you’re sad or on your period. he compliments you without really thinking about it. and it’s safe to say he has many pictures of you on his social media, maybe even more than yuri. pictures of you all dressed up, some of you completely caught of guard but it’s when sunghoon thinks you look the prettiest.
at first yuri had a hard time adjusting to you and sunghoon’s dynamic. but sunghoon would always reassure her that you two have always been close. he always told her—
“yn’s like a sister to me”
and because yuri loves sunghoon so much, she pushes down the ugly feeling that tangles in her chest when she sees the two of you together in the halls, laughing at another inside joke that she wouldn’t understand even if she tried.
sunghoon only nods throwing his phone beside you on the couch, “yeah i’m supposed to be at hers right now actually” your smile falters a little. “why’d you come here then?” sunghoon shrugs his shoulders like it’s obvious, “you asked”
“aren’t you at least gonna reply?”
sunghoon sighs leaning his head back on your couch, legs instinctively spreading wider, he turns to look at you again, a playful smirk on his lips, eyes dark.
“she can wait” you feel your stomach flip at his words. his eyes trail down to your blouse, then down to your long legs in that tiny skirt. he stares shamelessly, sucking in a sharp breath.
“plus jungwon should be here soon” he leaves his sentence hanging. almost— suggestive. and you pick up what he’s putting down almost too quickly. you let your own eyes travel down his frame, sprawled out on your couch. his biceps tight against that black compression shirt. paired with his grey sweats that look dangerously inviting.
fuck.
he only watches you.
let’s you look.
okay maybe you left out another thing the two of you get up to before you go on dates.
───
“s—shit hoon— hmfph!”
you throw your head back, thighs clamping around his head when you feel sunghoon’s tongue lick the length of your dripping slit.
“shh baby need to make sure you taste good remember?” he murmurs against your heat.
you notice something flash in sunghoon’s eyes as he stares up at you from between your legs, the prolonged eye contact making you melt against your couch. he only grins at you, and you can’t do anything but gasp and whine as his tongue swirls around your clit— his large hands gripping your thighs, holding them open for him.
sometime about nine months ago— you had come to sunghoon with a problem. a problem most people wouldn’t dare to whisper in an empty room.
but sunghoon being the friend he is, well, he noticed something was off with you. and he had pushed and pushed you to tell him what was wrong. said it’s not healthy to keep everything inside.
you had just rolled your eyes.
bullshit.
he was just nosy.
you remember that night so vividly, you were getting ready to go to your boyfriend at the time— heeseung’s— house. sunghoon was laid lazily on your bed, scrolling through his phone.
keeping you company.
tonight was the night. you and heeseung had talked for months about. you agreed to let him take your virginity. and even then, when you were coating your lashes with mascara, your stomach was in knots. you and heeseung only ever made out, occasionally dry humped at most, but that’s the furthest you two got— never anything beneath clothes.
sunghoon knew all this— he was your best friend after all, you told him everything. he knew about tonight, being the big night. he had teased you all day about it. and if anything it was just making you more nervous— all the while heeseung was blowing up your phone, telling you how excited he was to see you, feel you
taste you.
you slammed your phone down on your vanity hard, running a hand through your long dark hair. sunghoon noticed, he sat up on your bed, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you pace back and forth.
“what the fuck is wrong with you yn” sunghoon chuckled a little concerned. you only huffed, standing in front of him.
“i’m scared” you admit, lips pouty. sunghoon smiled, his heart skipped a beat. of course you were scared— you’d never done anything like this before.
“you’re gonna be fine yn, i promise you’re overthinking it, the first time is always scary” his hands flailed about as he spoke, a habit he always had while reassuring someone, a habit that always made you smile.
“no god it’s just—“ you sighed loudly.
“c’mon baby tell me what you’re scared about” sunghoon’s hand reached out for you and you shuffled closer towards him, letting him sit you down on your bed beside him.
“i guess more than anything i’m just—“ you don’t let yourself finish, scared you’ll sound ridiculous. but sunghoon only pried more. “tell me yn come on, it’s only me”
so you made him promise he wouldn’t judge you. he complied immediately, linking his pinky with yours. you took a long shaky breath before you spoke again.
“i’m just scared that i won’t—god i can’t say it” you threw your head into one of your pillows— your face flushed, too shy to face him, and sunghoon could only laugh, rubbing your back.
“tell me with your head in the pillows then baby” you whined louder at the nickname.
“i’m just scared i won’t taste good” the words come out muffled by the pillow— faster than intended. but sunghoon picked up on every syllable. and unfortunately for you, he laughed, that same annoying laugh he did when you tripped during hop scotch in second grade.
you immediately sat up, hitting him with your pillows. “what? what’s so funny?” sunghoon laughed a little softer now, “nothing— nothing” he shrugged, his hand heavy on your thigh.
“it’s just— well i personally never imagined you tasting bad” his eyes scanned your face for any kind of reaction. you didn’t give him one right away, instead you repeated his words in your head. processing them.
slowly.
“you’ve— you’ve imagined me? how i taste?” you gulped, throat gone dry. sunghoon’s eyes were locked on yours when he nodded, slow. he looked nervous. almost like he was scared he was crossing a line, which technically he was, i mean you had a boyfriend.
but sunghoon doesn’t mind crossing that line if you’re willing to hold his hand and cross it with him. you’d never seen sunghoon in this light. i mean, sure you’d thought about him a few times— late at night. wondered what his lips would feel like, what he’d sound like moaning your name.
but that night, your room was dimply lit by a small yellow lamp, resting in the corner of your room that seemed to highlight his sharp features perfectly, his jaw—dangerously sharp, his lips perfectly soft. but what was making your chest hurt was the way he was looking at you. like he’d just confessed a deep secret of his.
he gulped once, mouth opening and closing a few times before he finds the courage to speak— break the silence. wondering what he could say to ease the tension. “uhm— why don’t you just you know, taste yourself?”
you groaned softly, “i tried but i just don’t think i’m a reliable source you know?” his thick eyebrows furrowed a little, a soft crease forming between them. “what do you mean?”
“like i just wish i could get someone— that’s willing to be one hundred percent honest with me, to you know, taste me just once! and tell me how i taste, is that crazy?”
“i just don’t know how i’m gonna enjoy heeseung eating me out if i’m not even sure what i taste like. i mean it’s different everday, what if tonight is bad?!”
sunghoon swears he forgets how to breath the moment those words leave your mouth. he just stares at you, mouth a little agape. and before he can stop himself— he’s talking. taking a chance.
“i could— you know, taste— taste you?”
your head turned to him slowly, head racing with a thousand thoughts, you could hear your heart thumping louder than ever. did he really just say that? he watched your expression carefully. “make sure you taste good for him— heeseung, i mean” he cleared his throat.
that night the two of you started something really, really fucking stupid— that neither of you were sure was possible to come back from.
before each one of your dates, each date where sex is promised— sunghoon found his face buried between your thighs, tasting, slurping you up, making sure you were all good for your date.
it was to reassure you, to help calm your nerves.
that’s what you kept telling yourselves.
but somewhere down the line things shifted— sunghoon found himself encouraging you to talk to guys, selfishly finding any excuse for his head to be crushed by your thighs by the end of the week.
to your surprise it didn’t stop when yuri came into the picture, it was wrong and you knew that. but why did he have to be so fucking good at it? i mean technically it isn’t cheating if nothing goes inside, right?
even now— this is your first date with jungwon. obviously you aren’t going to have sex with him. yet here sunghoon is— lapping at your folds like a dog in heat. sunghoon hums against you, moving his head side to side— completely devouring you, the sensation making your toes curl.
sunghoon’s on his knees before you, one hand rubbing himself through his sweatpants, the other pushed down on your lower tummy, thumb reaching to rub at your clit, circling it slowly. his phone continues to buzz from the sofa beside you, he rolls his eyes mentally knowing it’s yuri. probably asking him where he is, why he isn’t replying.
you moan louder each time it buzzes, a reminder that sunghoon is choosing to be between your legs— eating you out, knowing he should be snuggled up with his girlfriend right now.
“hoonie— yuri” he smacks your thigh at the mention of her name, fucking his tongue into you, wriggling it around inside of you before pulling away, chin and mouth covered in your juices.
“text her back” he’s breathless— so are you. you reach for his phone, unlocking it with ease,
you know his password.
yuri doesn’t.
“what do i say?” you open her chat, hundreds of messages appearing. sunghoon bites his lips, his eyes glued on your pussy— completely gone, still rubbing himself through his sweatpants.
“tell her there’s traffic” sunghoon whispers, his nose brushing at your clit, you smell so good— sunghoon can’t believe you even doubted your taste for a second because him?
he can’t get enough.
his mouth moves closer to you, like your pussy is a magnet pulling him in. you comply, shaky fingers typing a reply before you throw his phone again— grabbing his hair and reconnecting him with your heat. “addicted to this pussy baby” sunghoon is eating you out like he has all the time in the world, like he doesn’t have anyone waiting for him at home, like you don’t have a date on their way to your house.
“can’t stay away”
“so good at this hoon” you gasp when he focuses in on your clit, sucking and licking with broad strokes, enjoying the reaction your body is giving him— hips bucking against his tongue.
“holy shit” your nails did further into your couch, letting out a lewd moan when you arch your back. sunghoon moans against your core at the noises your making for him, hand sliding into his sweatpants. you can’t take the pleasure, head thrown back against the couch, mouth agape, eyes shut. sunghoon scowls against you “eyes on me baby, watch me eat this pussy”
you whimper when he pulls back to blow cool air between your legs, your thighs shaking, more slick oozing out. "all this for me?" he cooes, going down to kiss your soft lips. and you can’t do anything but nod.
sunghoon swears he starts salivating, he licks his lips before diving back in— like he was made to do this. he’s completely pussy drunk. tongue circling and flicking while his nose bumps upward against your clit, his tongue sliding past your walls, fucking you with his tongue.
you can only cry out in pleasure, embarrassment flooding over you at the sloshy sounds your pussy is making. his eyelids are resting heavy, looking up at your parted mouth and pink cheeks, soft tits bouncing through that blouse when you grind against his mouth.
his hand moves faster under his sweatpants, he knits his brows at the sensation. close to cumming at the feeling of your pussy on his lips.“best thing i’ve ever fucking tasted” he kisses your lips again— fully making out with your pussy now. your eyes roll back at how sensitive you feel.
you can feel the warmth pool into the pit of your stomach, a coil winding tight with each stroke of sunghoon’s sinful tongue. you pant harshly as your hips start to stutter, the pleasure gnawing its way at your insides. your thighs shake and clench around his pretty face.
“hoon, hmpf gonna cum— shit”
sunghoon keeps his focus, skilled tongue eating you up just right, holding you open with one hand when your thighs shake, the other hand matching the pace of his tongue under his sweatpants.
“yeah? cum then— come on baby, cum all over my fucking face” your body shudders in ecstasy as you scream his name, your walls clenching as you cum— hard.
sunghoon only groans when your orgasm hit his tongue and chin, the sweet taste of you lingering in his mouth sends him over the edge— he cums in his pants, all over his hand with a deep growl. he wastes no time lapping up your juices— he’s earned it after all.
he nods below you, satisfied with his work. he pulls away slowly, watching your hole clench around nothing, the soft light of your tv making your pussy glisten.
“you taste sweet baby, all ready for your date”
there’s silent for a beat, the only noise being your heavy breathing. sunghoon picks up your panties, wiping his cum from his hand on the lacy fabric. it’s when you both hear your front door unlock that sunghoon curses under his breath. your parents are home.
he helps you put your panties back on— pulling down your skirt. sunghoon stands up straight adjusting himself in his sweatpants discreetly, face flushed and covered in your juices, he grabs his phone shoving it in his pocket.
“i should go— yuri’s waiting” you only nod following him to your back door so he can sneak out swiftly. “enjoy your date sugar lips” he winks, wiping his chin dry, before he steps out into the cold air.
“goodbye sunghoon” you roll your eyes— closing the door behind him, you press your back against the door, taking a long, shaky breath. suddenly becoming hyper aware of sunghoon’s cum pressing against you through your panties.
you two are too far in to stop.
“yn, sweetheart, we’re home— are you ready for your date?” your moms voice echoes through the hallway and you whine, shutting your eyes.
right, you have a date tonight.
jungwon should be here any second actually. you already know the date wont go well, because like all your dates, you actually look forward to the before more than the actual date.
the before being sunghoon between your legs.
you’re fixing your hair and blouse in the mirror before you when your phone vibrates. it’s sunghoon.
“yuri’s in the bathroom, can still taste you on my tongue;)”
