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home to all @dollhoonki's fave fics 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ‘02 𓏲ּ𝄢 she/her

[miffheewon]

ゆびさきと恋々 ────── tomorrow, i will like you even more、

𝓛𝘜𝘊𝘒 𝓛𝘐𝘍𝘌 ‧˚꒰🐾୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ──── set loose to the deepest part of the heart. make it a sound that pierces through, and that won't come out. believe it all times and set loose. so i can be myself.

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[miffheewon]

reading this knowing i'll never meet a man that matches this freak 🥲

i won't even elaborate on how amazing this was because i genuinely do not have the vocabulary for it. perfection all the way through 👩🏾‍🍳💋

[hoonstrology]

 MILLION DOLLAR BABY.ᐟ  ✩  ENHA.

OT7!ENHYPEN⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀stupid silly little headcanons of what enhypen would post / go viral for if they were js regular schmegular guys on tiktok.

MASTERLIST.  ┆ CONTAINS ➤ 2.3k words. non-idol!au. suggestive bc when have people on tiktok ever been normal. they're kinda freakout out though so maybe mdni. crack. attempts at comedy. tw: personal opinions. drinking and smoking mentioned. profanities. just chaos tbh.

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ this is the basic but maybe really fucking stupid thing i mentioned cooking. had my friend make a comment on my fyp and she said i'm weird as fuck so i thank her for this idea. done in under 2 hours and rly not proofread but enjoy! :3

  𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡

── HEESEUNG

posts whenever he wants. one month he's posting up to twice a day, and then his next post would be like 3 months after.

he's big on carousels / photo dumps. mostly just scenic things but he'd sprinkle a half-body picture or two in between.

definitely goes semi-viral a few times for singing covers and he's soooooo proud of it, as he should be.

posts thirst traps. not the super slutty, skin-showy ones. just lip-syncing vids to maybe brent faiyaz or the weeknd songs complete with the hand gestures. do not argue with me on this.

"the hoes gon' love this" ahh heeseung 🥀🥀 but they do. the hoes go crazy for it.

gets known for being very fucking good, like INSANELY good, at a lot of different things. rollerskating vlog???? basketball vlog??? perfect pitch challenge? you name it, he has a video of himself being good at it.

he posts a video of him doing yoyo tricks and its by far the Most Viral and most popular video on his page because the comments are just different levels of unhinged

he has several comments saying "what is bro NOT good at 😭😭" or "didn't know an adult playing with a kid's toy could look this attractive" and he'd be so fucking cheeky and reply something like "i try haha ty :)"

ZEROOOOOO SHAMEEEEE when it comes to being equally freaky with people the comments section

tiktok-user00879 commented: omg i love ur voice .... do u do whimpering audios? heavenlee_ replied: really depends how much ur willing to pay for it, pretty :p tiktok-user60912 commented: please keep going im close heavenlee_ replied: ur such a good good girl for saying pls :)

in conclusion: he'd be a little shit but you'd still want to check everyday if there's a new thirst trap post.

── JONGSEONG

i think he'd be fairly active when it comes to posting!!

he posts guitar covers. bass, acoustic, electric. lots of diff kinds !

but FACELESS. exclusively. he angles it just below his neck. if you're lucky and he's a bit careless with cropping, you'd maybe get a bit of his jawline at most.

regardless his hands are hella attractive so it attracts a huge amount of freaky audience in no time.

i see him as having like 200k-ish followers? he dgaf about the numbers though. he really just wants to post with his pretty little guitars.

he's really kind !!! :(( he'd reply to comments asking question abt guitars / questions from guitar newbies. maybe sometimes he'd post slowed down tutorials with edited tabs ehehe he's a lovely guy overall.

his account is strictly just about his guitars — but once in a blue moon, he'd post a photo carousel of a trip overseas. not to brag but like ??? maybe let his community in a little abt his personal going ons? and his audience eats up the old money vibe he has like "wow. bro is Rich rich."

he does a chase atlantic guitar cover w his electric guitar and it's so good so he just decides to post it with his face in the frame and Oh My God his comments are full of people foaming at the mouth.

tiktok-user81237 commented: okay do that finger thing again but on my puh next 🥰 parkedonmy.guitar replied: What? tiktok-user0912 commented: next thing u can cover: me in your cu- *gunshot* parkedonmy.guitar replied: ???

immediately weirded out by all of it and has to take like a 2 month break until the hype of his face reveal dies down.

it never does.

── JAEYUN

semi-active but you don't see much of his face.

his niche would maybe be in animal care? vlogs like "life as a dog dad." or "day in the life of an animal volunteer!" super sweet boy. :(

he DEFINITELY fosters. makes videos of dogs he's fostering in hopes his audience would be as invested in getting the dogs a proper home as much as he does. < 3

reposts weratedogs' videos. Every. Single. One. and maybe like informative videos about dog breeds / what type of dog breeds are best for different kind of people.

i see him maybe like doing a couple of videos on nerdy stuff too??

he'd stitch one (1) dumb science take and go viral because people are enamored about how earnest and genuine he is in trying to correct the person as much as possible.

the video: "proof that dinosaurs did NOT exist." 

jake's stitch: actually, here's proof that it did. 🤓☝️ and goes on abt the discovery fossils and the aftermath of the big bang so on and so forth

he tries to have good faith conversations but overtime his posts become snarky as FUCKKKKK like it starts off "okay what misinformation are you dumbasses spreading again?" (he's just like me fr)

in usual tiktok fashion, people are being dumb on purpose in his comments just to be funny and he Genuinely gets ragebaited.

he stops engaging in That Side of tiktok entirely but up to this day, in his sweet layla vlog video, he'll get conspiracy theory comments like:

tiktok-user12389 commented: ok but if the water is flat inside my glass then that means the earth is flat too right? luvlylaylas_dad replied: PLEASE familiarize urself w the concept of gravity tiktok-user5543 commented: the people lost at sea actually just reached the border of the earth and fell off into space. change my mind. luvlylaylas_dad replied: don't pmo. 😐

── SUNGHOON

he's pretty active!! but his posts are like . 90% of him being inside the gym.

GYM! GYM! GYM! he's big on fitness content.

i love him but he'd definitely reposts videos with text like "Lean is Law." make of that what you will.

uhhhhh i think he'd be too shy to keep actively filming himself using gym equipments unless the gym is pretty empty so his posts are mostly like slideshows / carousels with informative texts.

shit like "how to engage your core when using the captain's chair" or "this machine for this specific group of muscles"

he was feeling extra confident and extroverted so he did something new and filmed a vlog of him trying pilates. (it did not end well.)

said pilates video is just cuts of him struggling with mozart's lacrimosa as the background music and its still racking up views up to this day. a bunch of regular people and pilates people are in his comments having a BLAST.

he would post shirtless pics but only of his back. (still yummy.) he'd probably post actual topless all-muscles-flexed progress pics like maybe once every year or every two years.

i don't think he'd fall into the toxic gym dude archetype? like he loves fitness but he isn't an ass about it.

would maybe even make a post of his first week at the gym with him looking lost and scrawny with text laid over it like "he's the guy that got me where i am. :)" a lil corny but Very Sweet. i lov him.

the only non-gym background videos he makes are meal prep tutorials of his high protein low carb food or how he makes his healthy dessert recipes or favorite takeout orders :3

you know that sleeper build trend??? yeah. he joins that and gets like maybe 2mil views on it AT LEASTTTT.

comments go crazy and he's def cocky abt it LOL

tiktok-user1031 commented: when sza said i need a big boy..... yeah i get her tiktok-user9723 commented: bro CHILLLLL im on this app 😂 builtlike_sh replied: LMAOOOO y'all funny 😂😂

── SUNOO

okay. rubs hands together. i personally see him as very active. not chronically online type of active. just very aware of trends.

he wants to try each trend he can but wouldn't overextend himself trying to chase after them if u get what i mean???

has gone semi-viral multiple times for different shit. cute trends. a few faceless product recommendation carousels.

the most viral video he has isn't even from his account??? a rando saw him and posted sumn like "oh my god i saw this cute guy at a cafe. does anyone know his name???"

he'd comment on that post saying "hey! that's me! 😅" and instantly gain like 60k+ followers overnight.

he falls under the lifestyle + beauty niche. any other answer is Wrong. talk to a wall.

he doesn't mean to go viral. he just posts whatever the fuck he wants (mostly yap vids abt about skincare and makeup he's been liking) and it just happens. he loves the attention though.

he's so EASY to be parasocial with because he replies to comments like everyone's his irl ALKSDJASKLD

"trying -insert trending dessert here- for the first time!" and people love it bc when it's good he gets super giddy and its cute to see him happy but when it's bad u can tell he hates it by his facial expression. he still tries to word his critiques nicely though!! 😭 oh, my sweet baby

cute ootds. mini life-vlogs. he's big on HAULS. funny challenges w his friends.

reposts dessert mukbang videos, cute animal videos, or dreamy aesthetic videos with sweet encouraging texts. < 333

every now and he'd get in a mood of being not-so-cutesy and he'd post a masculine-leaning dance video (re: vedo fine shyt video. yes THAT video) just to send his audience SCRAMBLINGGG.

tiktok-user0623 commented: ok do that hip thrust thing again but on me sunnysideout replied: bet. c'mere baby. tiktok-user0623 replied: ??? WHAT tiktok-user87041 commented: a tear ran down my legs sunnysideout replied: let me wipe it for you then tiktok-user87041 replied: OH MY GOD STOP

he laughs like a maniac alone in his room reading the comments and flirting back because his ego is boosted when he gets people to fold. he's psychotic and i love him and i want him to do it 2 me. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

── JUNGWON

downloaded tiktok SOLELY for the vibes. loves catching references. watches memes and recreates them but only puts them for friends only / private.

reposts videos of people ragebaiting kids on roblox. he actively gets a giggle out of them.

also just a lot of weird shit. "over-under mukbang" of a guy trying to eat a whole cheesecake in 3 bites or "how many cigarettes can i smoke in 2 hours at a children's park?" or satire content that u might not be able to get unless you're on tiktok everyday. shit like that.

eventually he gets over his desire to be mysterious and he js posts whatever tf he wants. his dog. fit checks. lip syncing to random trends. those tiktok game filters. mini life-vlogs (rare, but he does post it.)

his fit checks are done from HORRIBLE angles. camera on the floor tilted so far up the overhead lights are glaring against his phone and it's barely showing his face but the fit still eats so he'll post it anyway.

he eventually finds his niche in commentary videos. i see him in something adjacent to the same content drew gooden / kurtis connor makes??? he mixes it with a bit of comedy and brainrot but his eloquence really brings home the point he wants to make. v smart boy. :3

a viewer makes an edit of him and that goes viral and it drastically increased his viewership which encourages more of his funny shenanigans

the edit builds him a considerate fanbase !! and yes they love him but like 95% of the time they're just "blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff" and you know what??? i get it.

goes out for a drink and gets a little drunk. he says "fuck it, dance challenge"

he's an amazing dancer. Duh. of course it blows up too. and people are going insane because??? who knew THE dry humor king yang jungwon could bust out a few moves???

tiktok-user14302 commented: ur like.. not doing anything to help my increasing parasocial crush on u 😭 garden.jwon replied: just because i danced? tiktok-user15021 commented: storytime on how u learned dancing is going 2 be an insane video topic garden.jwon replied: i learned to move my limbs. get off ur phone and try it. 😐

people obviously find him to be attractive based on looks alone but considering how smart and aware he is??? OUHHHHH the comments are just constantly so thirsty but he's having NONE OF IT!!

flirty comments will be ignored or made fun of. be warned.

── RIKI

he's active on scrolling through tiktok. it takes up most of his screen time, even. but he genuinely doesn't gaf about posting.

his reposts are goofy as fuck. druski, kai cenat, tony statovci type shit. reposts videos dogging on every drake release. maneesh on the beat shebang??? he's got VARIANTS of that clip reposted dawg TRUSTTTT

has a whole collection of dance tiktoks that he's saved to his favorites.

one day he's bored and he's like??? ykw ? let me try posting sumn

first one he posts goes VIRALLLLLLLL im talkin like 3m views in 5 days. he's happy abt it. maybe shows it off to his insta close friends but doesn't take advantage of the virality. he still posts whenever he wants.

he has a formula. low exposure + backlit so you barely see him???? he has his hood up too so like you only really see his silhouette but even then the dance skills are there . he's talented as fuck and no one can tell him otherwise

he doesn't just dance to anything too. he's stubborn and has a bit of an ego and wants to prove a point so when he does post a dance video, it's gonna be those hard-as-fuck-to-execute dances

eventually warms up to the idea of posting his dances Seriously. he works up the courage to make his own choreo to a trending song, too!!

goes viral for it AGAIN

every video on the song for an entire week has "dc: @ nishi.mura" included in the captions iktrrrr 🤏🏻

HIS FIT CHECKS GO HARD BRUHHHHHH he def attracts like . indie streetwear brands and wears them for his dancing vid sumtimes :3

tiktok-user0623 commented: hello??? wheres ur dc??? nishi.mura replied: fym dc dwag 😭😭😭 im literally the choreographer 😭 tiktok-user87041 commented: omg totally unrelated to the dance (its cool i promise) but where'd u get ur rings!! nishi.mura replied: all chrome hearts 😂

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled

© hoonstrology 2026. do not translate, plagiarize, steal, or repost any of my works across any platform.

[miffheewon]

yan, this is a million dollar post 😭

i couldn't tell you how much i agreed with every headcanon you made! i saw everything you wrote so vividly, i'm mildly upset it's not real 😭 alos, riki's 'maneesh on the beat, shabang!' made me creaseeeee 😭 i love your brain sm, im in your walls 😁 i WILL be coming back to this often 🙂‍↕️

[mwaeom]

FUCK THE MAYOR.ᐟ sim jaeyun

PART ONE ─── you run a hate account against mayor!jake, but in real life? you’re his one and only favorite journalist that he has a big fat crush on. he’ll also do anything to get you to interview him again and again (๑°o°๑)

pairing downbad/mayor!jake x manhater/journalist!fem reader: you’re jake’s #1 hater, while jake is your no 1 fan 𔘓 genre romcom crack smau, let’s not idolize politicians, same universe as my hoon smau ✶ warnings profanity, use of y/n, very chaotic lol𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

( ℰ🪽 ) —— after husband!hoon, we have mayor!jake (as i teased in my hoon smau) <3 i had to delete some tweets bcuz the limit is till 30 only arghh T__T users hotgirlssupremacy & angelkisses r reader's acc! likes, comments, & reblogs r always appreciated <3 mwahh

════════════════════════════════════

( ℰ🪽 ) —— no divider again bcuz of the pic limit LMFAOO i didnt realize i went over 30 :'(( so for part 2, i'll add those parts that didnt make the cut ! ALSO after i post this, im making the hoon smau part 3 !

perm taglist / my loves ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ @kienhawon @evangelicai @hyuneskkami @mailovesreading @vikeuchu @coergene @ilofflee @bhunlit

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[nephynes]

TIPPING IS OPTIONAL ── .✦ park sunghoon

You’re rich, entitled, and on vacation with your sister in some exclusive hotel resort, where staff is meant to serve you—not speak to you, or stare at you, and definitely not put their hands on you. Too bad the hotel’s bellhop doesn’t care how rich you are…or how loud you get when he puts you in your place.

minors do not interact

pairing ── sunghoon x afab reader

wc ── 12k

content tags/warnings ── power imbalance, class difference, brat taming, degradation & praise, rough behavior, strong language, emotional manipulation, dubious consent undertones, entitlement, light humiliation, alcohol mention, rude behavior, reverse slut shaming.

nene’s note ── consider this my comeback after getting my account deleted and going on a short hiatus. i can’t believe i haven’t posted any work since JULY, i’m soooo sorry, forgive me and enjoy 💕

nsfw tags under the cut

oral sex (m!receiving and f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation (light), edging (implied), begging, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, possessive dirty talk, squirting, cumshot, light restraint, hair pulling, pussy slapping, consensual power imbalance, mutual fixation. let me know if i missed any.

The headache forming behind your eyes could be because of many things right now—the car is too warm, your heels are way too tight, and also your sister’s bright and unrelenting voice has been clawing at your nerves since you both got in the car this morning.

Outside the tinted windshield you watch the gates of your family’s private airstrip slide open with the kind of smooth efficiency only money can buy, and the sleek shape of the jet comes into view, shining beneath the mid day sun.

"You're going to love it," Dani says, adjusting her sunglasses, she’s said that six times already. "The spa, the food, the water—God, you haven't even seen blue water until you've been to Bali. I swear."

You don't respond, she seems to be forgetting you’ve already been there before.

You cross one leg over the other, staring straight ahead, and pretending you’re not even there.

"Don't be like that," she adds, her voice laced with practiced patience. "This trip is supposed to help. It's for you."

That last part makes you laugh, very humorlessly. "I didn't ask for help."

"No, but everyone around you is tired of you being a miserable bitch, so here we are."

You turn your head just enough to glance at her, her hair is freshly blown out, her designer tote is next to her, and you can catch the glint of thr diamond studs in her ears. Your sister is undoubtedly perfect, effortlessly so.

"Sorry my bad mood's ruining your aesthetic."

"Oh, please." She waves you off like a fly. "You've been impossible lately. And not in your usual, high maintenance, spoiled brat way. This is new. This is dark. And as your big sister, I need to do something about it."

The car slows to a stop beside the jet, and even through your irritation, you notice the way the ground crew moves with precision, bags already being offloaded, a bottle of chilled champagne waiting just beyond the open cabin door.

"You need a reset," Dani continues. "Some sun. Some tequila. And someone with nice hands to put you out of your fucking misery."

You arch a brow. "So this is a sex vacation now?"

"If I have anything to say about it—yes."

The door clicks open, and the humid air rushes in, heavy with jet fuel and heat. You smooth your skirt, step out onto the tarmac, and inhale the scent of luxury like you think it might actually calm you down.

It doesn't.

Even the jet doesn’t calm you down, even the promise of five star everything waiting for you in Bali, doesn’t calm you down.

It’s like no matter how far you fly, you're still going to be you—spoiled, irritable and restless you. And if Dani thinks this trip is going to ‘fix’ you, she's in for a long ass week.

The jet's interior is cool and pristine, all cream leather and polished brass, exactly like you remember it from last month. You barely glance at the steward offering champagne, you just wave him off and sink into your usual seat by the window, crossing your arms as Dani settles in right across from you.

And she's still talking. "You know the problem, right?" she says, kicking off her heels and immediately curling up. "You've got this...thing about control. About standards. You act like you're allergic to normal men."

"I am." You deadpan

"No, baby. You're allergic to effort. Daddy spoils us too much—yes. But you think anyone without a trust fund is beneath you."

You say nothing, because she's not even wrong. Your father has never denied you anything. From private schools to designer wardrobes and cars you barely drive, even property you don’t spare a glance at for years. There's nothing you want that you can't have with a single call—except maybe a man who's not a complete fucking disappointment.

Every eligible guy in your social circle is the same. High bred, well mannered and utterly and completely soulless, devoid even. You've dated heirs to fortunes, sons of politicians, future CEOs, and they all feel like copy paste versions of your father's friends, that is cold, predictable and so boring in bed, if you ever make it that far.

"You could at least try slumming it once," Dani says, picking at her cuticle. "Date a bartender. A barista. A fucking dog walker. Just to feel something."

You scoff. "Is that why I saw the doorman sneaking out of your bedroom this morning?"

She shrugs, so unapologetic. "He was hot. And he had this thing he could do with his tongue—anyway, we're not talking about me. We're talking about you and your miserable, sexless, lonely little existence."

You glare at her, but she's already looking out the window, unfazed by your stare.

"You need to let loose. Just once. Stop acting like the world's going to end if someone who works for a living makes you cum."

You don't even dignify her with a response, because to you it's not about sex—not really. It's more about control, maybe status and standards, sure. You've been raised to expect a certain level of everything, especially from men. So the world can suck your dick cause you don't want some random nobody touching you, and you definitely don't need some vacation fling messing with your head.

But as the jet starts to taxi and you catch your reflection in the glass, you start to wonder about what Dani has been preaching about, what it might feel like to be wanted for something other than your last name?

You focus on the hum of the engines instead, it's steady and surprisingly soothing in a way. You're not sure when Dani stopped talking, maybe somewhere over the ocean, but the silence is welcome. You lean your head against the cool window and stare out at endless blue sky, the kind that stretches forever without offering anything new in sight.

After a moment, you start to drift and all you can think is—God, if one more person tells me to live a little, I might actually scream.

You don't want this vacation, in all honesty you'd rather be at home right now but Dani had always had a way of pulling things out of you. Your eyelids start growing heavy and you sink deeper into the seat, the leather soft and familiar beneath your cheek. Just before you fall asleep, you think—Let's get this over with.

A chime followed by a clear, polite voice filtering through the intercom is what wakes you hours later.

"Ms. Y/N, Ms. Dani—we've just landed. Welcome to Bali, Indonesia."

You stir a little, blinking to adjust your eyes to the light. The atmosphere outside the jet has changed, it's warmer now, more golden too, like the kind of tropical sun people usually only see on resort brochures.

"OH MY GOD." Dani's squeal shatters the quiet and bounces off the cabin walls. "We're HERE!"

You wince.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

"Bali, baby!" She's already unbuckling her seatbelt, half out of her seat. "Ugh, you're going to love it. White sand beaches, poolside cocktails, and hot locals who've never heard of our father—dare I say perfection."

You close your eyes again for half a second, trying to hold onto that fleeting quiet before reality sets in.

Too late cause the door is already opening and the heat rushes in instantly, you make your way to the jet's steps and are immediately met with the sight of the resorts staff waiting below, their uniforms are crisp and their posture is too perfect. Some of them are already lifting your luggage into the back of a black SUV.

The heat hits you like a wall, as you step off the jet, a rush of tropical air rolls over your skin, it's thick and heavy with salt and sun. You pause at the bottom of the steps, sunglasses sliding into place, and take a very slow breath.

It's beautiful, sure. Bali always is, but to you it's just another vacation in another resort and another week of pretending to unwind surrounded by smiling staff and endless attention from people calling you Miss Y/N.

Dani, meanwhile, is glowing.

"Thank you so much!" she chirps to the steward behind you, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Seriously, you've been amazing."

He beams at her, clearly appreciative of her warmness.

You count the sound of your heels clicking across the tarmac, watching as three staff members rush forward to greet you. One of them offers chilled towels on a silver tray, the other hands Dani a flower lei with a wide smile.

"Welcome to Bali, Miss Dani, Miss Y/N."

"Oh my God, how cute is this?" Dani giggles, looping the lei around her neck. "Thank you."

You accept yours with a nod, but no smile and no warmth. Just a flick of your fingers as someone relieves you of your bag and guides you toward the waiting SUV.

Dani, ever gracious, pauses to thank every person in sight. She's always been charming and easily likable, the type of woman who can make strangers feel seen with just a glance.

You've never been that girl, cause where Dani is light, you are cool steel—composed, distant and impossible to impress, you've heard the comparisons your whole life. Why can't you be more like your sister? She's so sweet. So warm. So easy to love.

As far as you're concerned, Dani's friendliness is performative and as much as you love your sister you can see the mask she's wearing, it's just like yours, maybe in a different color.

"I cannot wait for you to see this hotel," she says, sliding into the seat beside you. "Seriously. The view from the pool alone could make you believe in God."

For someone who's been all over the world, she has the same excitement for each place, even though she's been there before.

You stretch out your legs and glance out the window, letting her voice fade into the background. The city rushes past in lush green blur, yet all you feel is the familiar pressure in your chest.

Everyone expects something from you. Dani wants you to relax, your father wants you to behave and the world wants you to smile and say thank you.

The drive from the airport to the hotel is short, winding through narrow roads flanked by palm trees and flowers in full bloom. Dani's still talking, going on about cocktails and a spa day, but your gaze is fixed on the horizon, with your jaw tight.

You've barely said a word since boarding the SUV.

"You could at least try to have fun," she says eventually growing tired of you ignoring her, her voice is light but pointed now. "I mean, not everyone gets flown to paradise just to sulk in designer sunglasses."

You stiffen uncomfortably at her words but you don’t respond.

"Seriously, Y/N. Most girls would kill to have our life. The money. The wardrobe. The freedom."

You turn to her slowly.

"Freedom?" you echo, watching her lift her shoulder in a shrug, she must think her honesty is being helpful.

"You act like you're in prison when you've never had to lift a finger for anything. You could have any guy you want, any life you want—but you're so wrapped up in your own misery, it's like you don't even know what you want."

There it is, that fucking sting. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, but she does. Maybe that's the problem, isn't it? You don't know what you want, not in any way that matters, the world you live in has never allowed you to figure it out without judgment.

Your brain can’t help but interpret her words as an attack, but you can’t show that you’re hurt so you lash out in retaliation.

"You know what, Dani?" you snap, voice as icy as you can conjure. "Maybe I don't want your idea of fun. Maybe I don't want to 'fuck a bartender' just to feel something, or parade around like some pathetic airhead socialite looking for attention."

Her eyes widen. "Y/N—"

"No, really. Just stop. I don't need your armchair therapy or your backhanded concern. This trip wasn't my idea."

She stares at you, regret and pain flickering over her face immediately, she clearly didn’t mean to upset you. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I didn't mean—"

The car is already pulling into the circular driveway of the resort, sleek and pristine, all marble and fountains and soft lit lanterns. Uniformed staff step forward, ready to open the door for you, but you don’t wait.

Before the car even fully stops, you throw open the door yourself, your heels hitting the pavement hard.

You don't look back at her once.

Your heels strike the marble floor of the lobby with sharp steps, each one echoing off the high ceilings like alarm bells.

Staff scramble to greet you, bowing slightly, offering cool towels and murmuring polite welcomes, but you don't so much as glance their way.

You hear Dani's footsteps somewhere behind you, but you don't care. Someone moves into step beside you.

"Welcome to the beautiful Mandapa, Miss Y/N," a woman says smoothly. Her voice is calm and practiced, with the kind of warmth that's designed to placate even the most difficult guests. "My name is Dewi. I'll be personally assisting you during your stay with us."

You don't answer but she doesn’t even falter. "Your suite is ready. We've ensured full ocean views, as requested, and pre stocked the room with your preferred amenities—Chateau Margaux 1787, still and sparkling water, and fresh fruit flown in this morning."

You blink once behind your sunglasses at her unique efficiency. She's keeping up despite the clear storm in your posture and the speed of your walk. Your silence should dare her to stumble, but she doesn't.

She leads you to the private elevator with a poised smile, keycard already in hand, and steps aside to let you enter first.

"You'll be on the top floor with your sister, of course," she continues, tapping the card and pressing the button for one of the two penthouse suites. "Your bags are being taken care of, and a bellhop will be up with them in just a few minutes."

The elevator dings.

She opens the door to the suite, and the scent of fresh flowers and ocean air fills your nose immediately. It's stunning with long and wide glass windows, silk curtains rippling subtly in the breeze, a private pool just beyond the patio doors.

"Should you need anything," Dewi says, stepping back with perfect grace, "please don't hesitate to call. We're here to make your stay exceptional."

You nod, just once.

"Your bags will arrive shortly." She says then leaves with a curt bow. You pull off your heels and make your way to the balcony, crossing your arms and staring out at the turquoise water.

Your catch your reflection staring back in the glass off to the side.

Difficult.

You've heard that word your whole life.

Dani said it last night, you're so difficult to please, Y/N. Your father's associates murmur it behind your back at gala dinners, the younger one, the difficult one. Even the tabloids love it, heiress Y/N L/N, notoriously difficult, seen storming out of another charity event in Milan.

You're not difficult, yes you’re not easy but isn’t that better? That you’re not easy to please or manipulate? Maybe that’s why you’re always angry, because no one bothers to find out why you're this way. No one's ever actually tried.

The doorbell chimes a sharp and crisp sound. You turn, sighing, letting your eyes flutter shut for just a moment before crossing the room and opening the door.

You don't even look at whoever is standing there. "Finally," you mutter, stepping aside and leaving the door wide open, making no move to help or offer of thanks.

Whoever he is, he's quiet while pushing in the large black luggage cart stacked high with your designer suitcases, your custom garment boxes, the massive Louis Vuitton trunk Dani insisted was too much but you brought anyway.

He's careful you think, until you hear a soft thud that makes you whip your head around, just in time to see one of your vintage hat boxes tip from the top of the pile and hit the floor with a muted, sickening sound.

Your mouth falls open in a gasp.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" you snap, stalking toward him. "Do you even know what that is? That's vintage Dior, you fucking dumbass!"

You scoop it up, inspecting it frantically, eyes narrowed like you might actually commit murder if there's even the tiniest scratch on it. There isn’t, so you finally look up at him and meet his eyes. He stands there tall and silent with his hair pushed back, and seemingly completely unbothered by your outburst.

His gaze flicks to yours and he doesn’t even look the least bit sorry, on the contrary he looks…amused? You’re too angry to decipher whatever emotion is on his face right now, clutching the hatbox like it’s a wounded animal.

"I sincerely apologize, Miss," he says, voice even with his tone betraying nothing. "But I implore you—please refrain from using such words with the staff."

Your spine straightens ever so slowly, your fingers tighten around the box. "Excuse me?"

You blink, absolutely stunned, you’re certain you must’ve misheard him, but then he doesn’t waver.

"Please," he says again, "do not speak to the hotel staff in that manner."

You're silent for a beat cause you can’t believe your ears and the audacity of this fucking bellhop. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He barely flinches at your screeching, just stands there with his hands on the luggage cart and his eyes on yours, maddeningly calm.

"We aim to cultivate a respectful relationship between guests and staff here," he replies smoothly, "and I won't allow the people under my supervision to be spoken to like that."

The words are like a slap like across your face. Under his supervision?

You clench your jaw, trying desperately to quench the heat rising behind your eyes from pure rage. "You're just a fucking bellhop." You hiss the words out, venom dripping from every syllable, clearly in an attempt to degrade him in some way.

You can’t believe he’s still managing to meet your glare without any form of hesitation. "That I am," he says coolly.

You're absolutely seething now. "I'm going to get you fired."

It's not an empty threat, you’ve gotten people fired for less, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, like he doesn’t care and that’s what’s enraging you the most.

You don't even know when you start pacing and muttering insults to yourself the moment he shut the door, fueled purely by adrenaline and your pride that’s been wounded.

"Who the fuck does he think he is? A bellhop. A fucking bellhop lecturing me."

You snatch a bottle of water off the minibar, nearly breaking the cap trying to open it. "I'm not wrong. I'm a fucking heiress. I don't get talked to like that. I don't get corrected."

You pace faster, heat simmering under your skin. "The sheer audacity—I should ruin his life."

A knock at the door comes sharp and polite. You whip around, eyes narrowing as you march towards it.

"Dani," you hiss, yanking the door open and lock eyes with her calm ones, she’s looking too at ease with not even a single strand of her perfectly blown out hair out of place and there’s an older man standing next to her in a crisp suit.

And just behind him, him. The fucking bellhop, the sight of him makes the tension inside you snaplike a rubber band stretched too tight.

Dani's voice is light as she speaks, almost condescending even, as if you were a toddler about to throw a tantrum. "Y/N, sweetheart, this is Mr Lew—the hotel's general manager. He came personally to apologize for any inconvenience earlier."

You say nothing, you stay staring at the bellhop and sense Mr Lew step forward with his hands clasped.

"Miss Y/L/N, I want to extend my sincerest apologies on behalf of our staff. This is Mr. Park Sunghoon—one of our senior bellhops. He's been reminded of the appropriate conduct with our valued guests."

You blink at his words. Reminded? He's being let off with a warning?

The bellhop—Sunghoon's expression is, bored, like he can't be bothered with this drama, as though this whole situation is a waste of his precious time.

"I trust there won't be any further issues," the manager adds with a tight smile, but it does nothing cause your pride and your temper—they’re both boiling over.

You're speechless, because the bellhop wasn’t looking at before but now that he is, it’s not just bored anymore, it’s dismissive. Like you're a bratty little problem that isn't even worth his breath.

Does he know who you are?

"I want to hear it from him."

Dani makes a sound that seems like a groan but also a sigh, "Y/N," she warns, voice low. "Please. Can we not—"

"No," you snap, eyes never leaving the bellhop. "He insulted me. He can apologize properly."

Mr Lew clears his throat awkwardly. Mr Park Sunghoon doesn't flinch, but you see the tightening of his jaw and the way his hands flex briefly behind his back.

"I'm waiting," you say smiling.

"Y/N, God," Dani mutters, massaging her temple.

You ignore her, because this is between you and him now. His voice is low, so low you almost don’t hear the words coming out of his mouth, his jaw is clenched so tight you're surprised it doesn't crack.

"I apologize for my earlier conduct, Miss Y/L/N." It's entirely empty, robotic even and it makes your smile widen.

"That's better," you purr, just to watch in satisfaction the flicker of rage in his eyes again.

Dani claps her hands together sharply. "Great! That's settled. Let's all move on with our lives, shall we?" She turns to the manager, giving him a look that begs for this to end.

He nods hastily, already retreating. "If you need anything else, Miss Y/L/N, please don't hesitate—"

"Actually," you cheerily cut in, strolling over to the minibar with dramatic flair, picking up the wine bottle and holding it up like evidence at a crime scene.

"No glasses," you say flatly. "Am I meant to drink straight from the bottle?"

Dani's fourth or fifth groan of the conversation is audible behind you. "Oh my god, seriously?"

You glance over your shoulder, "I'm just saying. It's basic hospitality." You turn to Mr Lew again, smile sugary sweet.

"Send someone up with glasses."

"Actually no, send him."

His eyes narrow, but he doesn't speak.

Mr Lew glances nervously between you and Dani. "Of course, Miss Y/L/N."

Dani gives you a long look, it’s exasperated and she's probably given you the same look a million times since childhood, but she turns to leave anyway, with the two men in tow.

The goes quiet again once they're gone, the silence might be the sweetest sound in the world. You drop to the couch with a kitty like stretch, toes flexing against the plush carpet and you can feel the satisfaction blooming in your chest like a fire being fanned. Dani's face red with embarrassment and pinched with frustration lingers in your mind, you almost laugh to yourself.

She always thinks she can swoop in and smooth things over, always assumes you'll cave because she's the "responsible one." It's honestly insane how she hasn’t learnt that you don't bend for her, or anyone even.

And certainly not for some fucking bellhop.

Your lips curl when you remember the look on Sunghoon's face as he forced those words out. So flat and begrudging, so carefully restrained. You could practically see the muscle twitching in his jaw as he tried to choke it down, and it thrilled you. There's something so incredibly intoxicating about men like him—the ones who think they can stand taller than you, talk down to you, dismiss you like you're just another spoiled brat. You love nothing more than taking that condescension flipping it on its head and watching them squirm when they realize you're untouchable.

You've done it before. At restaurants, boutiques, flights, honestly anywhere someone dared to test the boundaries of your patience or treat you as anything less than royalty. You've perfected it into an art, the stare that makes people quake, the voice that sharpens, the carefully chosen words that remind them exactly who you are and what they owe you.

And Sunghoon is no damn exception.

You shift on the couch, resting your chin on your hand, letting your mind wander to the inevitable moment when he knocks again. He has no choice but to face you again and bring you what you want like the servant he is. The thought makes you warm all over as you can already picture the scene, him standing there, stiff  with the tray in hand, burning with a quiet fury he can't show.

You draw out the anticipation, tapping your fingers lazily against your knee, reveling in the quiet power pulsing through you. You don't just like putting people in their place, you thrive on it in a sick way. Watching someone as stoic as Sunghoon bend, even just slightly feeds something deep in you, something close to a hunger that never really dies down.

When the knock finally comes, you don't jump. You don't even move at first, you sit there smiling to yourself, letting the sound echo once more through the room before you rise, deliberately slow, smoothing the hem of your dress as though you're preparing for a performance.

You open the door to see him standing there in his pressed uniform, tray balanced carefully in his hand, two gleaming glasses set perfectly on it. You lean against the doorframe, smile spreading slow and deliberate.

"Took you long enough."

You speak sharply before even letting him step past the threshold, perched against the doorframe with your chin title high and your tone as haughty as the curve of your mouth.

"Here are the glasses you requested," he says, ignoring your words like they bounce off his skin without so much as leaving a mark. He looks toward the tray balanced effortlessly in his hand. "May I come in to set them down?"

You hate that he asks to that, that he doesn't presume or stumble, he doesn't bend to your sharpness. You want him so flustered and shaken, even burning red with humiliation. Instead, he's so steady, it has your teeth clenched.

"Fine." You shift aside with an annoyed flick of your hand, giving him entrance like you're the queen of some throne room instead of just another spoiled girl in a Balinese hotel suite.

He walks in with that same maddening precision as before, every step of his is measured, his posture is flawless. He sets the tray down on the marble counter without a single clink, as if even the glassware obeys him.

"I apologize again for earlier," he says simply when he straightens, hands folded in front of him, eyes fixed straight ahead. And then, as if that closes the matter entirely, he moves to leave.

The sound of his retreating footsteps moving past you sparks something ugly in your chest. The sheer gall of him—walking in here, dropping his stupid little tray, throwing you a half hearted apology like it's a bone meant to pacify you, and then just leaving.

No.

Absolutely not.

Your hand moves before you even think it through. One delicate push against the rim of the nearest glass and it tips off the edge, letting gravity do the rest. The shatter is absolutely exquisite, the crystal colliding with the floor in a violent crash that tears through the silence, echoing through the suite like a gun being fired.

It stops him cold.

You see his spine stiffen mid step, a pause in the rhythm of his departure. He turns his head slowly, just enough to glance back over his shoulder, and when your eyes lock, you feel the air in the room shift.

Anger moves through the calm mask on his face, just a second too quick for him to catch as his nostrils flare, and your lips curl into a smile.

"Oops," you purr, not even trying to feign innocence. "Guess you'll have to clean that up, won't you?"

You sit back on the armrest of the sofa, watching him like a cat who’s finally cornered her prey.

He stares at the broken glass for a long time, lips pressed into a tight line.

"I'll call housekeeping to come clean this up." He says and literally every syllable is weighed down with a withering amount of restraint.

He thinks he can sidestep you, thinks he can hold his dignity intact and walk out untouched and you’ll let him.

You tilt your head, lashes batting as you lace your voice with a false sweetness. "Call someone? To deal with this little mess?" You press a finger to your mouth in mock thought, intentionally looking at the scattered glass on the floor.

"That seems rather unnecessary, don’t you think? I'm sure a broom and dustpan are tucked away somewhere in the bathroom. Why bother another poor staff member when you're already right here?"

You’re so sure you can pinpoint exactly when his composure wavers, there’s a faint twitch in his fingers where they are by his sides, his shoulders square tighter, almost preparing for your provocation.

And God, it thrills you.

Was it even about the glass? No. It’s about the dynamic, it’s the delicious reminder that you can demand, prod, even push all you want and men like him will either bend or break.

You let the silence stretch, your smile curling down wicked at the corners. "Go on then," you add softly, almost a coo. "Don't be shy. Show me how well you can clean up after me."

The scrape of the broom against tile echoes from the bathroom, followed by the soft clatter of plastic as he returns with a dustpan. You can’t help but watch him.

The crisp uniform does so little to hide the way his shoulders fill out the jacket so perfectly, tapering into a trim waist. His sleeves strain slightly at his forearms as he kneels to sweep the shards into a neat pile,

His sharp jawline, high cheekbones, lips pressed firm in concentration. His hair, parted just slightly, looks like it should be styled for an editorial photoshoot, not tucked under the title of bellhop.

He is, infuriatingly, handsome.

It makes Dani’s words creep back into your mind uninvited, “You could at least try slumming it once.”

“Date a bartender. A barista. A fucking dog walker. Just to feel something.”

A bellhop?

The thought makes your stomach turn, you’re an heiress for crying out loud. Men like him aren't options, they're furniture at best. But something still stirs in your chest as you watch the clean line of his throat shift when he swallows, the way his fingers curl steady around the broom handle.

If—if—you were ever to debase yourself, to let someone beneath you touch you in such a way, he wouldn't be the worst choice. You'd never, of course. But still.

The cryptic words slip past your lips before you can stop them. "You'd be a good fuck...if you weren't such an asshole."

The broom in his hands stills, his head lifting slowly, dark eyes snapping to yours, sharp enough to cut.

"Excuse me?" His tone is measured, but it drops low and edged and that makes a little heat prickle at the back of your neck.

You smile attempting to be smug, maybe as unbothered as him too. "I said, if I fucked lowlifes, you'd be one of them."

The corner of his mouth twitches—Is that a smile? He lets out a low chuckle, the sound dark and amused, and leans just slightly on the broom handle.

"You?" His drags his eyes slowly over you, as though he's peeling back layers you never granted him permission to see. "You wouldn't last a minute."

Your head snaps toward him, offense flaring hot in your chest.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

The question leaves your lips before you can rein it in, because how dare he suggest—

"I've seen a hundred of you," Sunghoon says flatly, like he's reciting a fact and not an opinion. His eyes don't waver as he sweeps the last shards of the broken glass into the pan, then stands with a deliberate slowness, meeting your eyes head on. "Bratty little heiresses who've never been touched by a real man before. Sheltered. Pampered. Trust fund babies with too much money and too little experience."

The words strike like open handed slaps, each one way harsher than the last, you almost think you don't deserve it.

There's the tiniest hint of a smirk curling at his lips. "If I were to fuck you..." He starts. "...I'd permanently change your views on sex."

Your stomach twists, molten heat licking its way down your spine like lava, but your pride surges higher, choking the reaction in your throat.

"Too bad," he adds with mock sympathy, wiping his palms slowly on a folded cloth. "You don't fuck lowlifes."

He flings your words back at you, the echo of your own insult and you have to admit it lands deep.

He makes no effort to even wait for you to respond, not even the courtesy of a glance back as he walks to the door. His hand closes around the handle and for a fleeting moment you're frozen, watching the shape of his back, the frustrating calm in every line of his body.

Like somehow he gets the last word, like he decides when this ends.

Your anger clouds your senses and the second glass is in your hand before you even think, and then it's flying, shattering against the wall inches from his head, the sound sharp enough to slice through the quiet. Shards rain down onto the carpet.

"You can't walk out on me!" Your voice rips from your throat, hysterical and shrill enough that it shocks even you. "Do you hear me? You do not get to walk out on me!"

It's bratty, you know but you don't care—because it's the truth. For once, someone is refusing to bend to you and it makes something inside you splinter with fury.

The glass shattering so close to his head and missing him just by a few centimeters doesn’t seem to faze him.

He just stands there, shoulders rising and falling with one long breath, before tilting his head to look at you. The look he gives you isn’t even fear or anger, it’s an assessing stare, similar to watching a spoiled child thrash on the floor of a toy store and it only makes you want to scream louder.

You watch his hand slip from the door handle and his whole body turn to face you. You can see his patience fraying.

"Miss," he says with an even voice, "refrain from any form of violence against the staff. Once was enough."

The words are like a warning wrapped in civility, and it actually makes you stagger back a step. Not from fear but from the sheer audacity of him correcting you. Again.

"You think you know me?" you snap, a hysterical laugh bubbling out. "You think I've never been fucked before? Please. I've been with men who—who know exactly what to do with me. Men who could break you in half and—"

His amused laugh cuts you off in a way that almost feels like a slap. "Sure you have, pretty thing." He drawls, you watch his gaze drag down your body again before snapping back up to your eyes.

The mockery in it makes your whole face burn, a mix of humiliation and something you refuse to acknowledge with a name.

His words are so condescending but so smooth and the look in his eyes—God, he doesn’t even believe you.

You feel yourself shudder as your voice raises. "I have! Been fucked good. Men who—"

"—kissed your hand goodnight and tucked you in?" he interrupts, tilting his head like he's actually curious. "Or men who got you drunk at some fundraiser and left you unsatisfied in the back of daddy’s car?"

You open your mouth to fire back, but he steps forward

"Y-you don't know anything about me," you bite out, voice wavering despite yourself.

"I know enough. You wouldn't be screaming at me like this if any of those men you're so proud of had actually fucked you good."

It hits like a punch, the breath caught in your throat and when he sees you can't think of anything to say, when you just stand there shaking with rage, he chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.

"Didn't think so."

Your lips are parted with the half formed comeback you can't even drag to your tongue, he's closer now, too close even. His shadow falls over you, his height swallowing your whole frame.

"Shaking," he murmurs smugly. "But not walking away. Not calling for security. Not throwing another glass."

"I'm not—"

"You are." He shamelessly looks you over. "You're seething, ready to claw my eyes out. And yet...here you stand. Letting me read you like a book."

Your nails bite crescents into your palms, you hate this fucking bellhop, you hate that he's right, you hate the warmth pooling in your stomach with every word of his.

He’s so close now that if you leaned up even just half an inch you’d be kissing the goddamn bellhop. What the fuck is happening? Why do you want to lean up? Why do you actually lean up? Just slightly that you almost kiss him only that he pulls back at the last moment, your breath goes uneven, shame biting at your ribs.

"Unbelievable." His grin cuts you open. "I'm insulting you, tearing you apart—and you're trying to kiss me?"

"I wasn't—"

"You were." He leans in again, deliberately close, his lips ghosting the edge of your cheek before pulling away once more. "You wanted me to."

Your chest heaves, words stammering. "You're—you're fucking delusional—"

"Oh, princess," he croons, wicked, "if anyone here is delusional, it's you. Standing there, pretending you don't want the same man you just called a lowlife to put you in your place."

"Pathetic. All that privilege, that attitude, at the end of the day you're nothing but a fucking brat begging for attention."

"Truly pathetic, Miss Y/n" he says it so slowly you know he’s savoring speaking to you like this.

"All you have to do is ask. Three little words. Please fuck me."

The audacity of him, the way the syllables drip off his tongue, they sound like something you swore you'd never let infect you.

"Never," you say through your teeth.

He shrugs. "Then this is over." He turns, walking back to the door as if your fury, as if your very existence in that moment means nothing to him.

It breaks you open, because all of a sudden, it isn’t just him you’re fighting. It's Dani's voice echoing about getting laid in your skull again. It's your father's looming shadow, the man who raised you to believe every inch of the world was beneath your feet, who would probably disown you if he knew you were even thinking about begging a fucking bellhop.

It's the tens and twenties of glossy, empty faces of men in your circle. Polished trust fund sons with limp handshakes and even colder beds. Not one of them ever able to make you feel this humiliated and alive.

Your pride screams no, it really does. Every part of your upbringing shrieks to slam the door behind him, call Dani, demand another glass of wine and a new bellhop who'll bow low and never look you in the eye.

But your body— it fucking body betrays you. Your thighs press together, making you burn up with something that feels like desire in disguise.

And before you can stop yourself or have thoughts of rethinking your decision, the words are spilling out of you, completely broken around your pride.

"Please..." Your throat almost closes on the word. You swallow hard, force the rest out. "...fuck me."

The silence that follows is so unbearable, you start to feel regret blooming in your stomach. The weight of it claws at you from inside, hot and humiliating, like you've just set fire to the perfect little cage you've always kept yourself in.

"There she is," Sunghoon says, savoring it, dragging the sound of victory out slow. "I knew I could break you."

You fully expect him to gloat, maybe even grin with pride but he doesn’t, he just studies you before speaking again once he’s right in front of you. "Get on your knees."

You scoff instantly and an ugly laugh bursts right out of you. "You've lost your fucking mind."

Something in you makes you think he’s not going to argue or even repeat himself and he doesn’t, he keeps looking at you, steadily, in the silence of the room like he has all the time in the world just to watch you unravel.

The longer he waits, the hotter your skin burns. The more impossible it feels to stand there with your arms crossed, pretending you don't understand exactly what he's doing to you.

You feel your heart pounding in your ears and then you move, slowly like you’re resisting ever more, you lower yourself. Your knees press against the plush carpet, your chin is tipped high, in an attempt to hold onto the scraps of your dignity, but you're kneeling all the same.

"You're fucking stunning, you know that?"

The words slam into you harder than his insults ever did. Fucking Stunning? A gasp leaves your lips before you can stop it, your eyes widen and you feel your chest tighten a little at the warmth in his tone. It completely disarms you and now you feel exposed.

In this position your face to face with his crotch and you can’t stop yourself from looking at it. There’s the thick line of his cock straining against the front of his slacks. It looks heavy and your stomach twist at the knowledge that it’s for you. Is it the sight of you on your knees for him?

"Do you want to touch me?" His voice dips lower.

You’re staring and you hate it, you hate the heat you feel between your legs, your hands even twitch like they want to reach for him.

You nod and your hand moves, fingers brushing the sharp line of his zipper. The heat radiates through the fabric, thick and undeniable. Somehow, you’re not at all shocked—of course you're not. A bellhop with this much arrogance, this much calm command, couldn't possibly have a small dick.

In fact if he had turned out to be small, you would’ve felt within your rights to slap him across his beautiful face.

Your fingertips trace the length of him, tentative at first, then bolder when he doesn't stop you. The shape alone makes your stomach flip, your thighs press tighter together.

"Mm." His voice rumbles above you, almost warning. "You're sure you want this?"

You look up, your pride wanting to roll your eyes, your body betraying you with the way you nod too fast.

"I'm not gonna be gentle." His gaze is steady, unblinking, like he's promising something brutal.

You nod again, feeling a bit of shame at how easily you fold.

His smirk seems so satisfied. "Then take me out."

The commanding words hang so heavy in the air, so electric. Your fingers fumble at his belt, the quiet jingle of metal almost as loud as your heartbeat in your ears. His eyes don’t leave your face as you drag the zipper down, the heat of him pressing against your palm through the last thin barrier of his briefs.

You slip one hand past the waistband of them, the other one shyly tugs at them. He’s heavy, really heavy and hardening further with every beat of your pulse.

He tilts his head, watching you intently. "There you go," he murmurs. "That's it. Touch me like you've been dying to since I walked in."

Your cheeks burn, you even want to deny it, to spit something cruel, but your hand gives you away, stroking him now that you’ve managed to get his cock out fully.

His hand closes around your wrist firmly, you think he’s about to move you off him but he doesn’t, he tilts your chin up instead, making you meet his eyes.

"Open."

You shock even yourself with how easily you obey, the smile on his face is enough to let you know he thinks there isn’t a thought behind your eyes.

"There we go." His thumb drags across your lower lip, then he presses the head of his cock against your tongue. "That's better. Obedience truly does suit you, angel."

The praise sinks in so deep, it fills out a space you had no idea you had. Something desperate and very foreign grows inside you. You want more—you want him to want more.

You sink forward, reckless, your mouth stretching wide as you take more of his cock in. It's intoxicating, you already feel drunk on the taste of him on your tongue. You push yourself too quickly, driven by the near crippling urge to prove yourself, to make him happy, to be good for him.

You want him to praise you but all you get in return is a laugh, "Woah, woah," Sunghoon drawls, fingers flexing in your hair trying to halt your frantic pace. "Slow down. It's not a straw, princess."

The embarrassment you feel only makes you cling to him tighter.

"Eager little thing," he teases, rocking his hips just enough to feel your throat twitch around him. "Rich girls don't usually try this hard. You trying to impress me, hm?"

His words sting a little, but his hand guiding your head feels like gravity itself—you can't fight it, you don’t bother.

He slides his hand up the back of your head, fingers threaded in the roots of your hair like a leash. "Breathe through your nose. Slow and don't fucking gag." He teaches you, each word as authoritative as the last.

He guides you gently, pushing you, titling your head and in return your lips around his cock that’s not dripping with your saliva and his precum. Your pride melts under his instructions, the obedience tastes oddly sweet. You want him to like it.

When he lets out a low moan, you’re one hundred percent sure is involuntary—it hits you like touching a live wire. You whimper a little, and he freezes, eyes halfway closed, the sound in his chest turning amused.

"Oh?" he says, you can hear the smile in his voice. "You have a praise kink, princess?"

Your mouth keeps eagerly working around him, desperate for another moan. You make a small, dumb noise that’s just pure curiosity before pulling your mouth from him. "W-what's that?" you force out between wet breathes.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, amusement folding into something else. "So clueless." His fingers tighten slightly at the base of your skull. "Keep sucking. You’re doing so good."

You immediately wrap your lips around him again, you don’t expect the sting of a slap on your cheek but you also don’t expect to like it so much. "Come on. You can open up wider for me."

"That's it," he grunts, and the praise is an unexpected drug, it's so addictive. "Daddy's little heiress. On her knees, sucking the goddamn bellhop's cock."

You whine at his words, thinking of what your father would think, but the taste of him on your tongue and trailing into your throat knocks all the thoughts out of your mind.

"Oh—Shit. You tryna make me cum, doll?" He asks through a laugh, you don't even realize he's moved his shoe clad foot between your legs, you don't even know what in you makes you think to hump it—but you do. Your panties are so wet as you start to slide your pussy back and forth on his perfectly polished shoe.

"Such a perfect cock whore." You're a mess now, tears on your cheeks and drool on your chin. "So messy. You're humping my shoe?"

"I'm close, angel." he warns. "Keep going. Down your throat."

"Fuck."

You continue, swallowing around the thickness of his cock, tasting him, tasting your own surrender too. The shame is a hot cloak you wear like a crown as you work to give him what he needs, sucking and licking the best you can.

He pulls free with a soft curse, pumping his cock in his hand and moaning through his clenched teeth. You kneel there completely unsure of what's coming but utterly mesmerized by the view above you. When you feel the hot wetness of his cum splattering across your face, the first sound you makes is a raw gasp, from outrage.

But he keeps going and the first sound you make is a raw, involuntary gasp from outrage and shock, you even start to splutter cause his cum seems to be endless hitting your face—over your eyelids, your lips and even your hair. He's moaning through it and your mouth is open around nothing, your throat raw from taking his cock all while his cum is beading and running down your chin, warm and humiliating. You feel the world narrowing to the slick weight on your skin and the frantic beat of your heart.

You're ready to scream at him, feeling so much anger at the audacity of him to use you like that but his voice cuts through to you, uncompromising like there's no room for options. "Say 'Thank you Sunghoon, for giving me your cum.'"

"Say it," he orders, not shouting but with that same quiet authority that demolished your defenses earlier.

"What?" You try to spit, to shout, your eyes even scan for anything you can throw at him again. How dare he? Your brain scrambles—father, reputation, Dani's ridiculous grin, the glittering life you would never, ever let be public like this. Your pride immediately claws up your throat, how dare he make you beg for that?How dare you even want it?

He leans forward just enough so you can't ignore him since he's right in front of you, his breath ghosts across your cheek. "Say thank you, Sunghoon," he says, one finger tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to lock eyes with him. "Say, 'Thank you, Sunghoon, for giving me your cum.'"

Everything inside you splits, part of you wants to vomit the taste of the words from the back of your throat, part of you wants to melt into his command and never come up for air. You picture your father's face, the hush of a gala, the way your name is always spoken like a thing on a pedestal. You tell yourself you won't be reduced. You're not that kind of girl. You don't say thank you for such disgusting things but somehow your lips move, they tremble with humiliation so hot it's licking at reason.

"Thank you," you croak, the word nearly swallowed by the wetness on your chin. Your throat is rough and raw with the sound. "Thank you, Sunghoon, for giving me your cum."

He watches you, eyes dark and almost fond, as if this admission is some small, private trophy. The corner of his mouth quirks, you can see the satisfied, almost amused softness in it that makes your stomach drop and your pulse stutter like you just took one long, fatal step.

"Good girl," he breathes, there's no tenderness, it's only the kind of praise that pins you further beneath him. For a beat you're left with nothing but the burn of shame and the ridiculous but undeniable ache that's thrummed through you since he first spoke.

You wanted to be untouchable, you somehow still want to believe you’re above this. But the salt on your skin, the sound of your own voice so obedient and ashamed, proves otherwise. And even as outrage sinks hot behind your ribs, another, quieter thing settles in, something similar to a dangerous, aching satisfaction that you'll be ashamed to admit later.

He slowly sits on the edge of the mattress, one knee splayed, that long lean silhouette that’s hard to look away from. One hand is stroking his cock so deliberately, you can feel the strokes in your teeth almost and you can’t help but notice that he’s stayed hard, absolutely no sign of softening even with the amount of cum put on your face. The sound of him stroking himself is obscene in the quiet room, a mix of your saliva and his arousal, you kneel there watching him—a punctuation to your humiliation.

"Take your clothes off," he says in a way that feels like a law.

You do it immediately because you asked for this, you begged for it even, because you're suddenly dizzy with want and shame braided together. You shrug your top off first, the designer fabric slips off your skin so easily, like silk against your skin. You tease, purposely slow, letting the garment slide just enough to leave the ridge of your bra visible, then yank it over your head with a practiced little toss, all in an attempt to regain some semblance of control in this situation.

Your skirt is off next, you unfasten the zipper at the side and hope he doesn’t notice you’re hands are shaking, hip cocked like some caricature of seduction until you step out of it and the hem pools around your ankles. For a breath you consider keeping your bra on, to leave something private for yourself but your pride pushes you to an audacious, maybe even childish move—you take the bra off fling it at him, a wet, careless arc meant to be sexy and defiant at once, like his cum isn’t smeared on your face right now.

He catches it without effort though, one hand snapping out as if catching cigarette ash. His laugh is a low thing, amused and sharp. He dangles it in his fingers by the straps like it's an afterthought, and the way his eyes rake you from head to toe makes your skin flare with heat.

"Expensive?" he asks, voice edged with mock curiosity. "Worth the price tag?"

"Of course," you croak, and the word comes out thin, embarrassed and true. "Expensive for the likes of you, probably."

He snorts, amused. "You still think you can degrade me? I love that, really. All that pride intact like the bellhop's cum isn't caking in your hair." He tucks the bra under his thigh like a trophy and pats the mattress on the space behind. "You gonna get on bed? Or you wanna give me a cost breakdown of every piece of clothing you just took off?"

Your obedience tastes like relief now, so you walk up to the edge of the mattress and raise your knee to lean on it. Your knees dip into the mattress, the soft spring cool against your skin. He watches your face and you know he can see the uncertainty in your eyes, what position am I meant to be in?

He chuckles at your cluelessness, "Need me to position you too?" The way he says it, makes you feel like the spoiled child you've always been, having everything done for you.

"What position did the men that fucked you so good have you in then?" He teases, moving closer and grabbing you by your neck, leaning in so close you think he's about to kiss you, but instead he shoves your face into the mattress. Your palms flatten and clutch at the sheets. Oh, this position?

It's so degrading, his palm smooths down your bareback, pushing you to arch deeper, your panty clad ass high in the air. "There," he says caressing you all over, "Don't you look pretty like this? Messy."

"Stretch out your arms," he orders, the slightest bark of impatience. "And don't move unless I tell you to."

The bed is a stage and you're undoubtedly the performer stripped bare. You press your palms flat to the sheets and lift your chin, waiting for him to decide exactly how much of you he will take and how much of yourself you'll surrender in return. He huffs a low, predatory laugh and rises from the edge of the bed, stepping behind you. Your hands press against the sheets instinctively as he hovers, and for a moment the energy in the room crushes the last shred of your pride. How much pride can you possibly have in this position?

"Stay still," he murmurs, noticing you're fidgeting, the arms he told you to keep stretched out are shifting between curling against your face and obeying his order. You feel his hands glide over your hips, gripping, thumbs brushing along the sensitive swell of your ass. "I said stay still, princess."

You feel his breath against your cunt, the only thing separating his mouth from where you're absolutely aching is your soaked lace panty, you press your chest to the sheets in anticipation. Your back arches even further and you have no idea how you manage to contain your whimper when you feel him kiss your clit, he laughs at your pathetic reaction, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down so slowly you're sure he's trying to torture you.

"Wonder what has you this wet, angel." He says when the last fabric of your clothing is left bunched up at your bent knees. That cry that's been lodged at the back of your throat, tears out when he suddenly spread your cheeks apart and latches his lips to your dripping pussy, "Oh!"

He groans low and hot, almost at the taste of you, his fingers tangling in your hair at the nape of your neck as he leans fully into you. You don't know why you expected the first few seconds to be him giving you tender flicks of his tongue, there's nothing like that present—he is immediately eating your pussy, tongue pushing in, sucking on your clit so deliciously. You can't help the way your palms smack against the mattress, "Fuck! N-No!" You scream, reaching back, trying to push at his head, but he just grabs it and pins it to your back.

Your feet start to kick, it's too much. Every sloppy, messy move of his lips and tongue drags you closer to surrender.

"Now who knew bratty heiress tasted this good?" He says against you, voice muffled against your stupidly soaked folds. The words alone make you shiver, your thighs tightening reflexively, and the sensation of him damn near making out with your pussy is so intense, so consuming, that every rational thought falls away. You're reduced to gasps, moans, little whimpers, all the control you'd barely managed to cling to evaporating with every lick and suck of his mouth in your sensitive pussy.

You feel the hand groping the flesh of your ass lift but you don’t expect the hand to come right back down your cheek. He just spanked me, you think. "You’re not staying very still, you know?" "Not very obedient. What me to stop?" He says, mouth completely off you now. "No! I’m so—Please don’t." You can barely even get the words out but he gets the message anyway.

"Then stay still."

You choke out a noise, something between a whimper and a plea, and it only makes him laugh against your skin, where he kisses the curve of your ass. The power he wields is intoxicating, and the humiliation of being owned and reduced to pure sensation? You’re absolutely drunk on it.

Your back suddenly hits the mattress and it takes you a minute to realize he's flipped you over, he's hovering over you now, you whimper when his fingers twist at your erect nipple, "These real? Or you payed for them?" You gasp at the question, why would he think that? Is it a compliment?

"They're real." You mumble and he hums, "Big perfect titties. Aren't you a lucky girl?" He says as he dips his head between your thighs again, fingers active now. His thumb rubs at your clit and he grunts when you try to close your legs, he uses his other hand to keep you open.

His index finger rubs at your opening and you bristle, he pushes it in and sucks your clit into his mouth, it feels like a most welcome invasion. His one finger has you feeling so full already with how thick it is, you tremble when his finger dips upwards to that particular spot you could never quite reach on your own.

"See, now I don't believe you about all those guys you claim you fucked." "Look how you're clenching on just one finger, angel."

You're dizzy with embarrassment, you can't help it, you don't even realize you're tilting your hips up greedily searching for more. Through your blurry vision you see his head dip again, you mewl when his tongue laps at your swollen clit, mixed with the sensation of his finger hitting just right—you’re embarrassed by how fast you’re about to cum.

"I—I’m gon c—Ah!" Where are your damn words? Why are you so suddenly so speechless?

If he hears your jumbled words, he doesn’t care, in fact he seems to ignore everything else right now, his only focus is your cunt, he’s lapping away, switching between insane licks against your clit and sucking it into his mouth, all while his one finger is about to push you over the edge.

If he feels your hands tugging him closer and pushing him away at the same time, he doesn’t care. But right when you’re on the edge, about to tip over into what you know will be an explosive orgasm, all sensations completely disappear.

"No! Why?!"

He moves his body, hand pumping his hardened cock as he leans over you, "All that shit you said to me, and you think I’m gonna let you cum that easily." "Aren’t you delusional."

You open your mouth to say something but he taps his heavy dick in your sensitive clit, "D—Don’t do that!"

He laughs at your reaction but damn sure doesn’t listen, he does it again and again and again, then he dips the bulbous head into your clenching hole. It’s like he’s giving you a taste of everything and nothing at the same time.

A few more taps at your clit before he dips back in again, deeper this time. He pulls out at thrusts up, sliding himself along your wet folds, his tip rubs at your clit in a way that has you screaming and begging. "Please! Please! Sung—."

"Shh. Your pussy’s so damn tight."

"I’m not even in yet."

Yet doesn’t last much long cause the next dip inside your cunt, isn’t shallow like you expect, he thrusts half of his length into you and if you’re being honest, it’s bigger than any other dick you’ve had. "F—Fuck! It’s so big!"

"Shit. You’re sure you’re not a virgin, angel? You’re gripping me so tight."

"You sure you can take me?" There’s an uncertainty in his voice now, a wave probably brought on by how tight your pussy is clenching around him, it’s obvious you don’t know what to do with it, or yourself.

"Yes! Yes! I can take you. Please!"

He thrusts the rest of his length into you, "So full! So full!"

"Look at you. Daddy’s perfect princess. Taking cock like a champ." He breathes the words out as his hands find the backs of your knees, pushing them up so you’re folded perfectly in half. The change in angle does something, his thrusts hit different like this and you can’t stop yourself from digging your perfect acrylic nails into his biceps.

That’s when you realize he’s still fully dressed, his pants are pulled down just enough that they don’t get in the way him fucking you silly. His white shirt is still on and you have no choice but you tug at it desperately, so suddenly aware of how bare you are, spread open and folded in half, taking cock like a champ.

He keeps pushing until your knees are at your shoulders, you feel so helpless like this. He’s found a steady pace now, slow deep thrusts that have you feeling every inch of him, every vein that runs along the sides of his thick shaft.

"Ngh, feels so good!"

"Yeah? You ever been fucked this good?" He asks, eyes glued to your face, when you shake your head no, he seems unsatisfied and responds with a particularly rough thrust, "Words."

"No! N—Never been fucked this good!"

"Yeah, that’s right."

His speed has picked up now but it’s steady all the same. The sounds are humiliating, you can hear the squelchy wetness of your pussy each time he pushes into you with that unrelenting pace. His hand moves to your hair, pulling your head down so you’re forced to look at the way your pussy takes him, you can see your walls gripping his cock and you immediately close your eyes.

"Open your fucking eyes."

You almost shake your head no but something tells you if you do he’ll stop and you’re so close to cumming that you open your eyes and look. It’s an obscene sight, you can see exactly how he’s stretching out your little pussy.

"There we go. Pretty uh?"

You wonder how he’s barely moaning, if you weren’t going stupid on his cock, you’d almost be insecure from his lack of a reaction to your body. Is he not enjoying this?

Your thoughts quickly fly out the window when he lets out a mina of his own "Fuck, you like that?" His voice borders on the edge of a whimper that makes you wonder if he’s close too. His hand leaves where he has you folded and finds your clit again. "I’m gonna cum!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"F—Faster Please!"

This time he’s the one listening to you, throwing his head back in a moan as his pace increases. You’re so dizzy, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re drooling out the side of your mouth, it’s just too good.

When your orgasm finally hits, it’s life changing, for a second your mind drifts back to how he said he’d permanently change your views on sex. Mission accomplished, you think. Your whole body is trembling like the orgasm itself is too big for your frame.

"Oh my God! Right there!"

Something in you had expected that he’d fuck you right through your orgasm, but he pulls out suddenly and just when you’re about to whine his fingers come down harshly against your cunt, he’s slapping your pussy and your thrashing against his hold.

Before you can even think to predict his next move, two fingers push inside you, immediately hitting that dizzying spot inside you, "Oh shit!" You scream as he fingers you roughly.

"Wait! Wait!" Your hands scramble to push his away but all that earns you is three sharp slaps to your clit and that’s all it really takes—his fingers prodding against you and the slaps against your cunt and you’re cummimg harder than you ever thought possible.

It’s evident in the wetness that gushes out of you, coating his sleeve folded at his elbow. But that doesn’t stop him, his head dips down catching the essence of your cum in his mouth, "Mm. So fucking sweet." He mumbles against you before pulling back and the next you feel is his cock stretching you out again.

"Ah! It’s too much!"

"Is it? I’m so close, angel." "Don’t I deserve to cum too?"

You nod immediately, you want him to cum too, you really do.

"That’s right. Gonna use your tight little cunt to jerk myself off." And that he does, hand in your hair, dragging you back and forth on his cock. "Agh." You hear him grunt before he pulls out, hand frantically tugging and stroking at himself. His head is thrown back and you just think he looks so beautiful, lower lip bitten as his cum coats your stomach and breasts.

"Fuck yeah."

You feel like a canvas of his own, his cum covers almost every surface he’s had access to. Your chest is heaving as he pulls away, a satisfied hum sounds from his throat. He sits back on his heels, eyes moving down your body with so much lazy arrogance that you feel your skin prickle. His hand finds your jaw, thumb swiping across your swollen bottom lip as his mouth curves into a smirk.

"You should probably shower," he taunts, a smile tugging at his lips, maybe the joke is the mess he’s made of you. "Can't have the staff walking in on an esteemed guest like this."

He stands with unhurried movements, adjusting his shirt, tucking it back into his pants. The sight of him putting himself back together while you're sprawled out and completely undone makes something painful gnaw at your stomach.

Is he about to leave?

"Wait," you say, your voice thin and breathless, the word coming out before you even think too much about it. "Where are you going?"

He pauses half way to the door, tilting his head just enough to look over his shoulder at you. The smirk returns, wider this time, as he straightens his cuffs. "What?" he drawls. "You wanna cuddle?"

You stiffen at the teasing edge in his voice, but your silence really betrays you. His amusement deepens, a quiet chuckle spilling out as he leans against the doorframe. "Didn't take you for the clingy type, princess."

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined by the faint tremor in your lips. No way you’re about to cry, why? Because the bellhop didn’t give you aftercare?

He notices the look in your eyes and you swear you see his eyes soften just a little, but it’s not enough to be called kind, it just stings.

"I do have a job, you know?" he says finally, gesturing toward the hallway with a faint shrug. "I actually work here. Bellhop, remember?"

You don't answer, you just keep watching him like maybe if you stay quiet long enough, he'll change his mind and come back, he doesn’t, he reaches for the handle instead and panic curls tighter in your chest.

"You're just gonna leave?" you manage to whisper, your voice cracking at the end.

He glances back once more, eyes catching yours, there's something that feels like a promise in them. His lips twitch again, this time into something smaller.

"Don't worry," he says, voice low and assured. "I know your room number."

You’re not sure why, but the words really do assure you, and as you watch him walk out the door, you’re so certain he’ll come back. It settles you in a kind of fucked up way. Your mind even drifts back to Dani’s words again, "Date a bartender. A barista. A fucking dog walker. Just to feel something."

You have a new one for her to add to her list. Fuck a bellhop.

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©️nephynes 2025

all works are pieces of original fiction, do not repost, translate, or adapt without explicit permission.

[miffheewon]

what i pictured nene writing this:

[makeitworse]

OBSESSED

⠀── i got issues, i can’t help it baby

where your new boyfriend, jake, is the perfect man for you. he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, to the point that he feels almost.. familiar.

pairing: jake x f!reader (ft. ex jay) length: 5.3k warnings: copycat au, manipulation, jake is unwell af, smut; masturbation, both oral, dom!jake, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, mouth spitting, nasty shit.. 18+ MDNI

notes: hey… lil quickie to get me back in the writing groove #makeitwashed

YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO MARRY JAKE SIM.

never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate – all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldn’t search for it, or even try for it ever again. 

but that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? it happens when you’re least expecting it. you don’t find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that there’s no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake. 

jake had always been around – he’s a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair. 

he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasn’t so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you might’ve found a good friend in jake. 

none of it could’ve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead. 

love. real love, pure love. a love that didn’t keep you waiting, that didn’t have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didn’t deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you. 

after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex. 

he comforted you through it – held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldn’t take care of yourself – and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side. 

once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didn’t have to be around the stuff any longer.

jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, you’re not sure if jake even has any. he’s so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu. 

you’re convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone you’ve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs. 

you’re so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow – he loves you even more. 

—

not a day goes by where jake doesn’t think about marrying you. 

you don’t even have to do anything and already, he’s picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. he’s been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. he’s not prepared enough. but he will be, soon. 

he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little ‘take your time handsome :)’ text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants – jay’s sweatpants. 

every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake – you’d called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, he’d thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadn’t realised was from the pile of your ex’s clothes.

by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after you’d had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it would’ve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadn’t stopped things before they could escalate. 

you’re too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again – not after you handed it over to jake’s hands. 

jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you don’t even realise it, but it’s why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place. 

jake pockets his phone into jay’s sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt – also jay’s – before spritzing on a layer of jay’s favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jay’s favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jay’s. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once he’d heard the news of your breakup, he didn’t think twice about dyeing it back to black. 

jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jay’s height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jay’s. 

jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesn’t recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick ‘On my way cutie <3’ before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jay’s jeans he wore yesterday on the floor. 

jake hadn’t thrown out a single possession of your ex’s like he promised you. that day he drove them to the ‘dump’ to end up in a heap of landfill, he’d actually just taken them right back to his house, where he’s since been studying them harder than his college finals. 

every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. he’s even tried learning some of jay’s homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jay’s scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jay’s closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay – every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much you’d think he was in love. 

no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.

what you don’t know is that jake wanted you first, from afar – from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing. 

you don’t even remember jake’s existence before you met him as jay’s friend. he wasn’t memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay. 

and it’s worked better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

yesterday, while he was over, you’d shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.

“you should start again,” he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. “it’s a healthy hobby to have.”

“i only ever wrote when i was upset.” you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. “i don’t need it anymore.”

so today, he has an objective. 

jake had treated you to a date night-in. he’d cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jay’s recipes – including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients – then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how you’d fall asleep whenever he put them on.

drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadn’t expected you to last long. and yet you’d hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants. 

jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like he’d planned. 

your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot. 

diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page. 

all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love. 

he moved quickly – since there’s no telling if you’d miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise he’s gone – so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. he’ll be watching the video back later anyways, when he’s alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible. 

as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time you’re both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure you’ll never want to leave him. and now he’s got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.

“jakey?”

the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, “yeah baby?” 

“where’d y’go?” you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep. 

“just getting the bed ready,” he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. “i’ll carry you in, okay?” 

“m’kay..”

jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there. 

yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jake’s body. he did it though – he fucking did it! he’s gonna make you his for life. 

—

two pages in and jake thinks he’s scarred for life. 

he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately you’ve wanted it since you’ve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay. 

not just from jay’s own word of mouth – loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he ‘didn’t know how to handle all that’ – but from jake’s own ears too. he’d walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. they’d be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jay’s mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.

being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another – but this… this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation. 

you slept with jay on the first date – or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didn’t care. 

here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip. 

he’s helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just can’t look away. he needs this knowledge – he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe he’s made for you. 

he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldn’t do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back. 

hm. 

jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jay’s) sweats. there’s even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants. 

who would’ve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard. 

shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading. 

that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throat–

jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick. 

with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees he’s not even halfway through. he hasn’t even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where there’s sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him. 

he’s in for a long night with his right hand. 

—

“jake, what are you thinking?”

jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly. 

honest answer? jake’s thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning. 

he’d surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where you’ve been buried in each other’s mouths since. 

somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, you’d taken the initiative to climb into his lap – and where he’d usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each other’s bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose. 

“jakey,” you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. “what’s up?”

he huffs a laugh. “me.” you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. “nah, i’m just.. i still can’t believe you’re real.”

and he means that more than you could know. he’s spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now you’re on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.

his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, “urgh, i’ve been waiting so long, jake.”

“i know,” he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. “you’ve done so well, baby, i’m proud of you–”

“just let me sit on your dick already!”

jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how you’re behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet you’re.. bossing jake around? 

this isn’t going how it should be…

“i want you in me, jake.” you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. “i wanna ride you.” his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow he’s taking this. “let me?” 

shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there – slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that he’s supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you. 

“you think you can tell me what to do?” he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. “that’s no way to get what you want, baby.”

“jake–” you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. “i– i’m sorry..”

he hums, unconvinced. “you use your manners when you ask.” jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. he’d bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands. 

you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesn’t recognise. submission, must be. “please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

jake pokes his cheek with his tongue – something jay did that drove you crazy – and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jake’s grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval. 

“please.” you almost whine. “jake, please, i’ve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, i’ll be so good.”

the sweetest girl he’s ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?

he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed – jake chuckles in your face. 

“nah.”

within a blink jake’s got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours. 

“we’re doing this my way,” he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. “what you need, baby, is to get fucked.” you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. “then maybe, if you’re so good, you can ask again.” he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. “nicely this time.”

“ah, jake–” you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“you’ve been waiting so long?” jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. “baby. you have no idea about me.”

“a-ah! i’m sorry!” you babble, to jake’s confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. you’ll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?

not even a few seconds later you’re clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until you’re pushing at his chest, whining that it’s too much. 

jake’s dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how you’d daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well he’s doing in mimicking your ex – and you’re drunk off it, you don’t even realise that you’re about to get fucked by the exact same man. 

jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before he’s back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore. 

with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as you’re gripping him like a fucking vice. everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.

he’s able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell. 

“you feel so perfect, baby,” he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. “i’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while he’s fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet you’re taking all of him without protest. because that’s just how you like it. 

once you’ve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name. 

“yeah, baby?” he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. that’d be the one difference between them – jake won’t be that stupid. “feels good huh?”

you can’t even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises what’s happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back. 

you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldn’t lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. you’ve popped off twice and he’s barely gotten started. 

jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive. 

“c’mere, baby, you’re doing so well,” he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. “you’re gonna take more for me. right?”

you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.

jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew you’d fallen in love with jay. 

he wants to see it happen for himself. 

jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. he’s chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he can’t help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him. 

jake’s vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until he’s spilling out inside of you. he’s so possessed he doesn’t even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?

“ja..” you try to say his name, trailing off halfway. 

he opens his eyes – not even realising they closed – as he looks down at you. you’re even more gone than he is. do you even realise that it’s not your ex fucking you stupid right now? 

with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?

jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jake’s tongue. 

“j-ja–! ja– ja–!” you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jake’s groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like you’re saying jay. 

j-jay! jay– jay–!

he’s done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay. 

“keep on saying that, baby,” jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you – right until you’re letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until he’s releasing your clit with a wet pop. 

he lifts himself up again until he’s at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind. 

“hold it.” he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. “open, baby.”

you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you. 

“you gotta return the favour, yeah?” he only hopes you don’t notice how breathless he is, how he’s just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasn’t putting on this whole jay persona, he’d be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now. 

you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now. 

jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until he’s shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks he’s ready for yet another round. 

before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands. 

“oh no, no, hey,” jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. “baby, did i hurt you? did i–”

“no, jake,” you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. “you didn’t do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i just–” another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.

what you don’t tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and you’re sure you must’ve even said your ex’s name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man who’d put you there.

everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you don’t miss him, you don’t still love him. it’s just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them. 

“i’m so sorry,” you sniffle. “jake.” you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who you’re with. 

“no, no.” he shushes you, stroking your hair. “it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

he really is too perfect for you. you don’t know how you’ll ever deserve someone as pure as him. 

“i love you.” 

jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that you’re not serious. “wh– you.. you mean that?”

“i do.” you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. “i love you, jakey.”

it’s the first time he’s heard it from you. it might be too early, but you don’t care. nothing’s too early if it’s all fate, all meant to be. 

“i love you more.” he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “more than you could ever know.”

your body stiffens as you’re suddenly transported back in time – living out a once fond memory with jay, how he’d said those exact words back after you’d said you love him first. 

jay– no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.

jake wasn’t him, he’d never be him. what were you tripping for?

taglist: @ttturnitup @jhthings @fweakygyatt @lunaryoongie @binneulton @kits-treasure-trove @kpopishgirlie @jaja-salute @joongtime @fancypeacepersona @persassyismysecrettwin @stargirlroro

[miffheewon]

i cannot believe what peak i've just read...jesus, take the wheel 😭

the minute i saw this on my feed, i just knew my nightly dose of fics was gonna hit like CRACK! this...i can't even explain the rush and range of emotions i went through reading this, from hanging off every last word to laughiing at the reader about to call jake, jay 😭 this all happening while my jaw kept dropping from how unwell jake was btw 😭 i can never state this enough, your pengame is truly unmatched. i would genuinely read your grocery list simply because it'd written by you 😭 obsessed with this! <333

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒home invasion ❀ lee heeseung

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊

✷ your strict parents raised a sneaky daughter, and lee heeseung, your boyfriend of four years, is proof of it !

pairings ⸝⸝ ‎bf!heeseung ✿ f!rea‎ ‎ ‎ ✉️‎ ‎ ‎ wc ⸝⸝ 6.3k

🗯️ 内容‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ secret & established relationship, cussing, overstimulation, first-time sex, loss of virginity, protected p in v, oral (f. & m. receiving), slight dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, emotional intimacy, aftercare !

⟶ mentioned ⋮ hoshi (seventeen) ₊ ryujin (itzy) ₊ sunoo (enhypen)

EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : 2000s era, no fixed place because we’re here for vibes only <//3 hee & rea are about 20-21 here by the way ! also this is very much fueled by my lifelong doawk nerd tendencies and rodrick heffley resurfacing in my brain again . . . thank you so muchi for the request ! i lawb you ❤︎ enjoy my ever-so-lovely hoonguin nation (‾◡◝)

The rain came down in unforgiving sheets, harsh against your bedroom window, the sound of it filling every quiet space in the room. Water streaked down the glass so heavily the city lights outside looked blurred and distorted, turning everything beyond your room into watercolor smudges of yellow, red, and white.

“You’re soaking, Hee. Like, genuinely soaking,” you scolded, standing in front of him with a towel in your hands. “You’re going to get sick one day, I swear. Actually, no, you wouldn’t even be sick if you stopped climbing through my window every time it rains.”

Your flip phone had long since been abandoned somewhere on your bed after you hung up on him thirty minutes ago, your CosmoGirl magazine laying face-down on the carpet beside your desk chair. Your computer screen still glowed dimly from across the room, Facebook left open mid-scroll, photos of your classmates crammed into tiny albums — parties, cheap drinks, blurry peace signs held toward cameras.

Everyone else your age seemed to spend Friday nights somewhere loud.

Heeseung spent his climbing onto your roof.

He sat by the window nook now, completely drenched, hoodie clinging to his skin while droplets of rainwater dampened the built-in seat beneath him. Dark strands of hair dripped onto his forehead as the storm battered against the glass just beside him. The faint smell of rain followed him inside, familiar enough that you’d long since started associating it with him.

It wasn’t even hard for him to get in anymore.

Your room sat at the very front of the house, the small roof over the entryway sticking out just enough for him to pull himself up if he was careful. Four years together had apparently given him enough experience to do it almost effortlessly.

Well — mostly effortlessly.

“You act like I almost died getting here,” he muttered, lips pressed into a pout while you aggressively rubbed the towel over his head.

“You slipped last time.”

“I caught myself.”

“You almost took the gutter down with you.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You literally scared the shit out of me, Hee.”

Heeseung only grinned at that, soft and annoyingly pleased with himself, like your concern was something precious he wanted to keep.

You sighed dramatically, though your hands gentled almost immediately as you continued drying his hair.

Four years.

Sometimes it still startled you.

You’d started “dating” at sixteen in the careless, unserious way high schoolers often did — passing notes during class, sharing wired earphones during lunch, sneaking around after school with no real understanding of what commitment actually meant. Half the time, the two of you had only dated because your friends insisted you already acted like a couple anyway.

Back then, everything with him had felt light.

Fun.

He’d walk you home carrying your backpack even when you told him not to. You’d spend entire phone calls arguing about songs neither of you actually hated. He’d steal fries off your tray at lunch and swear your food somehow tasted better than his.

You’d broken up once for three days during junior year because he forgot your monthsary.

Then got back together because both of you were miserable about it.

Stupid teenage things.

But somewhere between then and now, things had shifted quietly into something deeper.

It happened slowly enough that neither of you noticed at first.

The late-night calls became late-night conversations about the future. The casual “I miss you” texts turned into him showing up outside your house after bad days because he couldn’t stand knowing you were upset alone. You started becoming part of each other’s routines without trying.

Without asking.

Now he climbed through your bedroom window in thunderstorms just because he wanted to see you for an hour before going home.

The worst part was that you always let him in.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, realizing your hands had stopped moving.

“Yeah, staring at this insane man in front of me.”

“That’s not what that look was.”

“Yes, it was.”

He laughed softly under his breath, reaching up to wrap his fingers loosely around your wrist before pulling your hand away from the towel entirely.

“I wanted to see you, pretty,” he murmured.

The teasing tone he usually carried was gone now, replaced by something quieter. More sincere.

Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far off.

“You always tell me to chase after the things I want, right?” he continued, eyes fixed on yours. “So I came here.”

Your expression softened immediately despite yourself.

God.

Four years later, and he still knew exactly how to get away with things.

You dropped the towel onto the floor beside him before stepping closer, your hands moving to cup his rain-cold cheeks. His skin was freezing beneath your palms, but he leaned into your touch instantly anyway, eyes fluttering for half a second like he’d been waiting for it.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Still, you leaned forward anyway, pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead.

His shoulders relaxed beneath your hands almost immediately.

Then, quieter this time, with the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile, “Whatever you say, loser.”

It was no surprise to anyone that your parents were probably the strictest people alive.

Even random strangers you talked to in online chatrooms knew about it.

You were legally an adult already, yet somehow still lived under rules stricter than most middle schoolers. But technically, it made sense — you still lived under their roof while attending college. You’d had plenty of opportunities to move out, plenty of reasons to, too, but staying home meant attending your dream university without constantly worrying about tuition, rent, groceries, or whether you’d survive off instant noodles for the rest of the semester.

So you stayed.

In exchange, your freedom was practically nonexistent.

Your parents were the kind of people who believed every horrifying thing printed in newspapers or aired on television. One kidnapping case three cities away suddenly meant you weren’t allowed outside past seven. A segment about drunk driving meant lectures during dinner for an entire week. Every terrible thing they heard only made them tighter, stricter, more protective.

Most parents loosened their grip as their children grew older.

Yours only held on harder.

They had rules for everything. Honestly, the list was probably longer than the Code of Hammurabi itself.

No smoking. No drinking. No parties. No clubbing. Curfew before sunset unless it involved academics. Finish your chores before touching anything remotely enjoyable. Most importantly — absolutely no boyfriends.

Unfortunately for them, strict parents rarely created obedient children.

They created sneaky ones.

And you were living proof of that.

Drinking?

You started around a year ago.

Your first time happened with your boy best friend, Hoshi, during what your parents believed was an innocent afternoon walk. Somehow, that “walk” turned into the two of you sitting outside in broad daylight with cheap alcohol burning down your throat while you tried not to cough your lungs out in front of him.

The taste was awful.

But the feeling afterward wasn’t.

For the first time in a while, your mind felt quiet. Warm. Easy. Like every frustrating thing weighing on your shoulders had blurred around the edges for a couple of hours.

You still remembered desperately forcing yourself to eat afterward so your breath wouldn’t smell suspicious when you got home. Sitting around for nearly an hour pretending to scroll through your phone while trying to sober up enough to look normal in front of your parents.

Smoking?

That happened a few months ago.

Ryujin handed you a cigarette outside a convenience store while the two of you were buying materials for a class project. You only meant to try one drag out of curiosity.

You nearly choked to death immediately after.

Ryujin laughed so hard she had to hold onto the side of the building.

Then there was the biggest rule of all.

No boyfriends.

Which was ironic, considering you’d already had one since sophomore year of high school.

Four years.

Four entire years of sneaking around your parents behind carefully constructed lies and perfectly rehearsed excuses.

Late-night phone calls whispered beneath your blanket. “Group studies” that were actually dates. Deleted messages. Fake stories. Secret kisses stolen before you went back home pretending nothing happened.

It was exhausting sometimes.

Stressful, absolutely.

But thrilling, too.

Because despite the rules, the lying, the double life — you loved it so, so much.

You loved the freedom hidden inside rebellion.

And maybe, just maybe, you loved him enough to risk getting caught.

Heeseung was sitting in your desk chair now, lazily scrolling through your open tabs of Tumblr and Facebook like he owned the place.

Every few seconds, another ridiculous post from your university friends flashed across the screen.

Photos taken inside crowded clubs with neon lights washing over flushed faces. Videos from late-night drives with music blasting so loudly the audio distorted. Someone posting about a spontaneous sleepover at some questionable motel in the middle of nowhere. Another group catching flights out of the country just because they could.

Everyone always seemed to be doing something.

Living.

Meanwhile, you were stuck sneaking your own boyfriend through your bedroom window like a criminal.

Heeseung, completely unbothered by the injustice of your life, leaned back comfortably in the chair while wearing his old basketball jersey from senior year — the one he’d given you after graduation along with a pile of other sentimental things he claimed “smelled too much like high school.”

The loose jersey exposed his arms entirely, toned biceps flexing every time he scrolled or clicked something on your computer mouse.

It was distracting.

Very distracting.

A pair of gray joggers hung low on his hips too — another thing technically hidden inside your room. He’d accidentally slept over around three months ago after both of you knocked out while studying, and in the panic of sneaking him out before sunrise, he’d forgotten them completely.

Thankfully, your parents had never found the container shoved into the back of your closet filled with clothes you “didn’t wear anymore.”

In reality, half of it belonged to him.

You sat cross-legged on your bed nearby, flipping through the last few pages of your magazine while occasionally glancing over at him.

The black lace trim of your camisole brushed against your skin every time you moved, soft fabric hugging your body comfortably. The beige middle contrasted against the dark details perfectly, and paired with your lounge shorts, the ones your aunt gifted you two Christmases ago, you looked effortlessly pretty without even trying.

Heeseung had already looked at you at least ten times in the last five minutes alone.

Then suddenly—

“Wait,” he said.

You glanced up lazily.

“Hm?”

He pointed at your computer screen.

A newly uploaded post from Ryujin filled the monitor, a blurry group picture of your girlfriends packed together inside some club bathroom, all glittery makeup and drunk smiles.

The caption read:

y/n was actually the one who took the photo (hella real) :-) #wemissyoubaddie #funnightout #yolo

Your face dropped instantly.

“Fuck my life, this is so stupid.”

The bitterness in your voice caught Heeseung off guard enough for him to turn fully toward you.

“What’s up?”

You tossed your magazine aside with far more force than necessary before dragging a hand down your face.

“It’s just so unfair sometimes,” you muttered. “Everyone gets to go out and do normal college things while I’m locked up in this house twenty-four seven like the apocalypse is about to happen.”

Heeseung stayed quiet, listening.

“My parents act like if I leave the house past sunset I’m immediately gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere,” you continued, frustration spilling out faster now. “Ryujin literally sleeps over at random people’s apartments. Sunoo went to Batanes, that… northernmost province in the Philippines or whatever, for literally three days without even telling his parents first. I don’t even know how the hell he got the money for that! Ugh, everyone gets to just… live normally.”

You stood up from your bed abruptly and walked toward your desk, arms crossing tightly over your chest as you stared at the stupid Facebook post still glowing on your screen.

“And meanwhile I have to lie just to breathe.”

For a moment, the room went quiet except for the rain outside.

Then you felt his hands.

Heeseung reached for your waist gently, pulling you backward until you stumbled between his legs with a surprised laugh leaving your mouth.

“Hee—”

Before you could complain, he tugged you fully down onto his lap.

Instinctively, you settled there comfortably, your arms looping loosely around his shoulders while his hands stayed warm against your waist.

“Shhh,” he murmured softly, pressing his cheek against your stomach for a second. “It’s okay.”

You sighed dramatically despite melting into him immediately.

“It’s not okay.”

“It will be.”

He tilted his head back to look at you properly then, expression calmer than yours always seemed to be.

“You’ll get to experience all that stuff someday,” he said quietly. “The parties, trips, dumb late-night drives, all of it.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You will. I’m so sure of it.”

The certainty in his voice made your chest ache a little.

He rubbed slow circles into your waist with his thumbs.

“And when you do,” he added with a small grin, “I’ll probably be there annoying you through all of it.”

That finally pulled a reluctant smile out of you.

“You’re already annoying.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “But you like me anyway, no?”

The chair creaks beneath you, knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his thighs. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft cotton of the basketball jersey. Heeseung’s hands settle at your waist, his fingers moving in slow, careful circles as if he’s still learning the shape of where it’s safe to hold you. 

He looks up at you, and the lamplight carves shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. His lips part, then close. 

A beat passes. 

Then another.

You feel the heat creeping up your neck, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle. So you pout, just a little, just to break the tension, a soft downturn of your lips that's half real, half teasing.

His eyes catch it immediately. A slow grin spreads across his face, lazy and warm.

"You're cute when you get pouty," he murmurs, thumbs stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of your lounge shorts.

Your eyes narrow, but there's no bite in it. "The window is right there if you wanna leave."

He laughs, low and short, and his hands tighten on your hips. "Not a chance, gorgeous."

You roll your eyes, but the smile gives you away. Your fingers slide from his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, soft strands slipping between your knuckles. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering half-shut for a second.

"You're so warm," you say, quieter now.

"So are you." His voice dips, rougher. "I feel like I'm burning up over here."

The air between you both immediately thickens. 

His hands move — one sliding up your spine, the other settling on your thigh, thumb tracing absent circles on the inside. The fabric of his joggers is soft against your bare skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him through the thin layers.

You lean in first.

Your lips brush his gently at first, testing. His breath hitches, and then he's kissing you back, soft and slow, his mouth molding against yours like he's got all the time in the world. One hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your face just right.

The kiss deepens gradually. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking, and you part for him. The taste of him floods your senses, warm, faintly sweet from the soda he had earlier, utterly addictive. A small sound escapes your throat, swallowed by his mouth.

His hand slides down your back, palm pressing flat against the dip of your spine, pulling you closer. The chair shifts as he adjusts, and you feel it — the growing hardness beneath his joggers, pressing against your inner thigh.

He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, "Fuck, you taste good."

"Shut up," you whisper, but there's no heat in it. You pull him back in.

This time, the kiss turns messier. Teeth graze your lower lip, tugging, and his groan vibrates against your mouth. Your hips shift forward instinctively, grinding down against him, and the friction sends a jolt straight through you.

Heeseung's breath stutters. His hands grip your hips, steadying you, guiding you into a slow roll that makes the chair squeak in protest beneath you both.

"Yeah," he breathes, lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat. "Just like that, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders through the jersey. His mouth finds the hollow of your collarbone, sucking lightly, and your head falls back with a soft moan. His tongue soothes the spot, then he's kissing his way back up to your lips.

"You're shaking," he says against your mouth, half a question, half a statement.

"Mmm." You're not sure if it's from want or nerves or both. "Shut up and kiss me."

He laughs, breath warm and distracting. "Bossy."

But he does. His lips capture yours again, hungrier now, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your head spin. His hand leaves your hip to palm your breast through the lace of your camisole. The fabric is thin enough that you feel every ridge of his fingers, every press of his thumb as he finds your nipple and rolls it gently.

You gasp into his mouth. He smiles against your lips.

"Like that, baby?"

"Don't—" You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Don't be smug."

"Never." His thumb keeps circling, and his other hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him. The pressure of his cock against your core is maddening through the layers of fabric.

You rock your hips again, a little more desperate this time, and the chair groans loudly beneath you. Heeseung's head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

"Fuck," he pants. "You're gonna make me lose my mind."

"What’s holding you back then? Let me."

Your hand slides down his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. His abs tense under your touch, and he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you trail your fingers lower, over the waistband of his joggers, stopping just short of where he's straining against the fabric.

"Please," he whispers, voice cracking.

"Please what?"

He swallows hard. "Please keep touching me. Don't—shit, don’t stop."

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. "Don’t sweat it."

Then you kiss him again — deep, consuming, all tongue and teeth and desperate little sounds. His hips buck up against you, instinct taking over, and you grind back down, matching his rhythm. The chair rocks with you, a steady creak-creak-creak that fills the room along with your mingled breaths.

His hand slides under your camisole, palm flat against your stomach, then higher until he's cupping your bare breast. His thumb flicks across your nipple, and you moan into his mouth.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your lips are swollen, your hair a mess, your eyes dark and hazy. He brushes a strand behind your ear, gaze soft. "So fucking beautiful."

"Kiss me again," you demand, breathless.

He does. He kisses you until your lungs burn, until the world narrows down to the press of his body against yours, the heat of his palm on your skin, the way his hips roll up to meet yours with increasing urgency.

His mouth trails down your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin there. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close.

"Baby," he gasps against your collarbone. "I need—I need more."

"I know." Your voice is ragged. "I know."

He lifts his head, eyes meeting yours, pupils blown so wide they're almost black. His lips are red and wet, his breathing uneven. He looks ruined already, and you've barely started.

His thumb traces your hip bone through the fabric of your shorts. "Can I—"

"Yes."

The word tumbles out before he even finishes. You don't need to hear the rest. You want this. You want him.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, tugging gently, asking again with his eyes. You nod, and he takes a shaky breath before sliding his hand lower, palm pressing against the heat of you through your underwear.

Your breath hitches. His eyes lock on yours, watching every flicker of expression.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay."

He kisses you again, softer this time, while his fingers begin to explore, tracing the outline of you through the damp fabric. Your hips twitch against his hand, chasing the pressure.

The chair creaks. Your heart pounds. His thumb circles slowly, deliberately, and you break the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his jersey.

"I've got you," he murmurs into your hair. "I've got you, baby."

His middle finger drags through the slick fabric of your underwear, from your entrance up to your clit, pressing just enough to make your hips jump. You feel the heat of your own arousal soaking through the cotton, and from the way his breath catches, he feels it too.

"Fuck," he breathes, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are dark, hungry. "You're wetter than I was earlier, and I was standing in the rain without an umbrella or anything."

Your face goes scorching. The crimson climbs up your neck, floods your cheeks, burns the tips of your ears. You can't even look at him. You press your face back into his shoulder, mortified, and your hand flies down to swat his away from between your legs.

"Hey—" he starts, but you’re already guiding one of his hands where you want it, slipping it under your camisole so it rests against your skin. 

"Up here," you mumble against his jersey. "Focus on this."

He laughs, low and warm, but his fingers curl slightly as he keeps his hand under your camisole, steady against your skin. "Yeah? This is what you want?"

You nod, face still hidden.

He squeezes gently, thumbs finding your nipples, and a shaky breath escapes you. "Okay, baby. I got you. Whatever you need."

He massages you, slow and deliberate, both hands kneading your breasts while his thumbs circle your nipples until they're pebbled and aching. Your hips start moving again on their own, rolling against his joggers, seeking friction. The length of his cock presses against your core through the layers, and the feeling of it, thick and hard, straining against the soft cotton, makes your mouth go dry.

"I want you so bad," you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your hips grind down slowly, deliberately, feeling him twitch beneath you. "You feel so, so good. So fucking big."

You bite your lip, and a soft moan spills from your throat, high and breathy.

His eyes darken. His hands tighten on your breasts, and he pulls you into another kiss, rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth and desperation. His hips buck up to meet yours, and the chair groans beneath the weight of both of you moving together.

He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "Bed. Now."

Before you can respond, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you across the room, still kissing you, mouths slotting together in between ragged breaths. He pauses at the door, reaches back without looking, and twists the lock. The click echoes in the quiet room.

Then he carries you past the window nook, and you feel him pause again. He pulls back just enough to glance at the curtain, thin, pale, letting in the faint glow of the streetlight outside. He reaches over and yanks it closed, the rings scraping along the rod until the fabric is fully drawn, sealing the two of you in.

He lays you down on the bed, and the mattress dips beneath your weight. He follows you down, hovering over you, but then he sits back on his heels, hands finding the hem of your camisole.

"Can I?"

You nod, breathless.

He pulls it up and over your head, and the cool air hits your bare skin. Your breasts are fully exposed now, and his eyes go wide, his breath stuttering out of him.

"Holy shit," he says, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze drags over you, slow and reverent. "Your breasts are so big. Tiny ass waist..." He trails a finger down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach. "This is what you've been hiding from me?"

Your cheeks burn, but there's a thrill in his awe that makes you feel powerful. "Maybe, we’ll never know."

He shakes his head, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "Unreal."

His hands find your shorts next, hooking into the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Your underwear goes with them, and then you're bare beneath him, completely naked, and the vulnerability of it hits you all at once.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You smell so good," he murmurs against your mouth. "Everything shower?"

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you. "Yeah, actually."

He grins. "Knew it. You always smell like vanilla and something sweet. Drives me insane."

His hand slides down your body, fingers trailing over your stomach, through the coarse hair between your legs, until he reaches your slick folds. His middle finger glides through the wetness, gathering it, and you shiver at the touch.

"Look at you," he says softly, watching his own finger move. "So fucking wet for me. Is this all for me, baby?"

You can barely nod. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

His finger circles your clit, featherlight, and your hips jerk. "That's it. Just relax. Let me take care of you."

He slides one finger inside you, slow, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. He's barely in, just the tip, and already it feels like so much. He watches your face carefully, reading every micro-expression.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Keep going."

He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until his finger is fully sheathed inside you. The feeling is strange and full and good, and you clench around him instinctively.

"There you go," he murmurs. "Feel that? That's me inside you. Just one finger. Gotta get you ready for more, yeah?"

You whimper, and he starts to move, sliding in and out at a torturously slow pace. His thumb finds your clit, pressing tight circles, and the dual sensation makes your back arch off the mattress.

"That's it. That's my good girl. Taking me so well."

A moan builds in your chest, rising, and when it spills from your lips it's too loud — a sharp, breathy cry that cuts through the quiet room.

Heeseung's hand claps over your mouth instantly, but his smile is wicked. "Shh," he whispers, leaning close, lips brushing your ear. "We don't want Mr. and Mrs. L/N to hear their lovely daughter get fucked right now, do we?"

Your eyes go wide, and the heat floods your face again.

"Don't you?" he repeats, voice dropping lower. "Want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically against his palm.

"Good girl," he says, and removes his hand.

He slides a second finger inside you, and the stretch is sharper this time, making you gasp. He pumps them slowly, curling them up, searching. When he finds that rough patch of nerves inside you, your whole body jolts.

"There it is," he breathes. "Right there, huh?"

He presses against it with every stroke, and your hands fly to the sheets, gripping them tight. His mouth descends on your breast, lips closing around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. He sucks gently, then harder, and the combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your chest has your mind going blank.

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same attention. "Look at you. Taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock?"

You're not sure, but you want to try. "Yes," you manage. "Yes, I want it."

He kisses his way back up to your mouth, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to what his fingers are doing between your legs. "You're doing so good, baby. Tell me if it's too much."

"More," you whisper. "Please."

He withdraws his fingers, and you feel suddenly empty. He sits up, pulling his jersey over his head in one fluid motion, and your eyes travel over his bare chest. His shoulders are broad, his stomach toned, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the dim light. You reach out, fingertips tracing the line of his collarbone, down his sternum.

He catches your hand, kisses your palm. "You can touch me all you want later. Promise."

He stands just long enough to push his joggers down, then his boxers, and his cock springs free — already hard, already dripping at the tip. Your breath catches. It's bigger than you expected. Thick. The sight of it makes your stomach flip with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly. Three times. Once. Twice. Three. His eyes never leave yours.

"Enjoying the view, pretty?"

You can't form words. You just nod.

He climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself by your head. His cock is right there, inches from your face, and you can smell the clean scent of his skin, taste the salt in the air.

"Open up," he says softly. "Let me feel that pretty mouth."

You part your lips, and he guides himself inside. The weight of him on your tongue is heavy, unfamiliar, and you take him as best you can. His hand cradles the back of your head, not pushing, just holding.

"That's it. Nice and slow. Just the tip."

He moves gently, sliding in and out of your mouth at a pace that lets you adjust. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that slips from the corner of your eye.

"Doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so deep."

You gag slightly, and he stills immediately, giving you time to breathe.

"Okay?"

You hum around him, and he groans at the vibration.

"Fuck, that's good."

He keeps going, slow and deliberate, fucking your face with a tenderness that doesn't match the filth of the act. When he pulls out, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips.

He kisses the corner of your mouth. "So perfect."

Then he moves down, settling between your legs. His fingers find your slick entrance again, sliding inside with ease. He pumps them slowly, watching your face, and you're already so sensitive from everything that every stroke makes you gasp.

"Look at you. So ready for me. But I want to hear you ask."

"Please," you whimper.

"Please what?"

"Please put it inside. Please, Hee."

His eyes darken. "Good girl."

He reaches over to where his wallet sits on the nightstand, pulls out a foil packet, tears it open with his teeth. You watch him roll the condom down his length, his hands steady, his gaze locked on yours.

He positions himself at your entrance. The head of his cock presses against you, and you feel the heat of him, the pressure, the promise.

"Ready?"

You nod, throat tight.

"Tell me if it hurts. We'll stop. I mean it."

"I know. I want this."

He pushes in.

The first inch is a stretch unlike anything you've ever felt. Your eyes roll back, and you fumble for the pillow, pressing it over your face to muffle the sound that tears from your throat.

He pulls the pillow away, gently but firmly. "No. I want to see you. I want to watch your face when I fill you up."

His hand covers your mouth instead, palm warm against your lips, and you're grateful for it as he pushes deeper. The stretch builds, a burning pressure that makes your eyes water, and then he's fully inside you, seated to the hilt.

He stills. Gives you time.

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So fucking tight around me."

Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the intrusion. He stays perfectly still, letting you feel him, letting your body learn the shape of him.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay," you manage, voice muffled by his hand.

He pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. The drag of him inside you sends sparks through your entire body. He sets a rhythm, deep, slow, deliberate, and his hand stays over your mouth, his other hand gripping your ass, kneading the flesh.

"You're taking me so well," he murmurs against your ear. "First time for both of us, baby, yeah? Still feels like I’ve known your body forever.” 

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he kisses them away.

"My good girl. My perfect fucking girl. Do you feel that? That's me inside you. I'm the only one who gets to have you like this."

His pace quickens slightly, and the sound of him moving inside you, wet and rhythmic, fills the room. He reaches up and massages your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"Look at your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fucking perfect."

The pressure builds in your belly, coiling tight. He feels it too, feels your walls clench around him.

"That's it. You gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock?"

"I—Hee, baby—"

"Come for me, gorgeous. Let me feel you."

His hand moves from your mouth to wrap around your throat, not squeezing just enough to send a thrill through you, and he fucks you faster, deeper, chasing his own release.

"I'm close," he gasps. "Fuck, I'm so close."

"Inside," you plead. "Come inside."

He groans, his hips slamming into yours, and you feel him pulse inside you, feel the condom swell as he spills into it. The feeling of him coming, the way his body shakes, the way he moans your name — it pushes you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you gasp. "Baby, I'm coming—"

He fucks you through it, his pace never slowing, and the overstimulation makes you cry out. He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, and the sensation doubles, triples, splintering through you like lightning.

Your orgasm wrings you out, clenching around him, and he keeps thrusting, slow now, riding it out with you.

When it subsides, he pulls out gently, and you feel empty again. He peels the condom off, and you watch as he strokes himself once, twice, spilling the remaining drops of his release onto your lips, your breasts.

"Open," he says softly, and you part your lips. He smears the last of it across your bottom lip, then leans down and kisses you, tasting himself on your mouth.

Then he disappears between your legs.

His mouth descends on your sensitive core, tongue flat against your folds, lapping up the mess of your release and his. You squeak at the intensity, thighs clamping around his head, but he grips your hips and holds you open.

"None of that. Let me taste you."

His tongue circles your clit, flicks across it, and your hips buck off the mattress. He eats you out like he's starving, tongue plunging inside you, then dragging back up to your clit.

"You taste so wet. Could drink you all night."

It's too much. It's not enough. Your hands find his hair, gripping, pulling, and he groans against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

The second orgasm hits you before you're ready, sharp and sudden, and you cry out his name as you come undone on his tongue.

He laps it all up, gentle now, letting you come down. When he finally surfaces, his chin is wet, his lips are red, and he's grinning.

He crawls up beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Look at me."

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes are soft now, the heat faded, replaced with something tender.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You blink up at him from where you are, he pulls the blanket over both of you carefully afterward, tucking you against his chest while warmth slowly settles beneath the covers.

“Good,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse. “Really good.”

His expression eases immediately, thumb stroking gently across your waist.

“Any pain?”

“A little sore,” you admit quietly. “But it’s okay.”

He leans down to press a slow kiss against your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he murmurs. “I know this was your first time.”

Your chest tightens a little at the tenderness in his voice.

“And it was yours too,” you whisper back.

A small smile spreads across his face.

“Yep,” he says softly. “Guess we trusted each other that much.”

You feel your eyes sting unexpectedly, emotion settling warm and heavy in your chest. Just something overwhelming and soft and impossibly intimate.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble.

“Always.”

The answer comes instantly.

He pulls the blanket higher around your body afterward, making sure you’re fully covered before settling back against the headboard with you tucked securely against him. One of his hands slips into your hair, fingers combing through it slowly, while the other rests warm against your hip beneath the blanket.

Outside, rain still tapped quietly against the windows.

Inside, everything felt still.

Safe.

He presses another kiss to the top of your head before mumbling softly against your hair—

“Get some rest, pretty. I’m not going anywhere.”

⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . dirty little secret by the all-american rejects

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

[miffheewon]

as IF i couldn't be more down bad for heeseung 😮‍💨

this was soooooo sweet please 🥹 related so hard to the reader having strict parents and how everyone else seems to be living their life ahead of you...(sighs) but (!!!) heeseung always being the constant in their life made my heart SOOOO full! he also was just so dreamy in this too - cheeky but so doting, i could only giggle 🤭 loveddddd this! need to read more of your works ASAP! 🙂‍↕️

[hyukascampfire]

𝓘N WHICH 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗑𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀.

⸉⋆ ❨🍋‍🟩❩ ･ 8.6𝑘

dilf 최연준 𝓍 fem reader ˖ ꯭𓂋 smut, sugar relationship, vacation ༢ pretty heavy on the age gap, 16 year gap, dilf yeonjun, smut, size diff kink, spit, choking, brat taming, he gets off on spoiling, he also gets off on scent and perfume, fingering and mirror sex, dirty talk, lots of pet names, he’s 36, a bit of jealousy from both, a trip to hawaii, (barely) underage drinking, happy trail mention, unprotected sex, reader rlly is spoiled, financial domination

ash⦂ i rlly just have been in a dilf kick in my soul lately so i hope everybody’s on the same page or else that would be reaaaaal awkward… anyway, this is so fun and tropical and i hope everyone is ready for some summer!! this is a leftover from last year’s summer event so thankfully it’s with us finally >_<

Choi Yeonjun is a man. In a broad pair of shoulders, the sharp coffee and black pepper that clings to his skin in lingering at the warm pulse points when you press your face there, and how he keeps himself put together in clothes without the wrinkles of a twice-worn wrinkled thing off the carpet like the guys your age, who you could ask if they do exactly that and they would shrug and tell you that they did. Not Yeonjun, though. None of that was what truly set him apart, or put that stamp of ratified man on his integrity.

That was in the opening doors for you. He insists on it. He doesn't want your hands on any car door handles, only wants to hear the click of the heels bought on his dime hitting the ground when you step out after him. And he wasn't afraid to tell you it, either. It was in how he took the burden of ordering for you at the diners he took you, with the warm crystal lights that hung low over your table as he'd thumb the back of your hand. In how that card of his was yours, too.

You were sitting in bed after a thorough, all brand new, skincare routine, when he proposed the flight to Hawaii. A face mask seeped into your skin as you gawked into the glow of the screen. If he had only see your face. He tells you it's the best part.

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: We have a suite booked in O'ahu for this weekend. Do you need anything for it, baby?

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: Pack light, you'll be coming home with more than you came.

11:01pm [Yeonjun]: How does that sound?

It was that part that made your stomach twist up like it was in there jump-roping. It always is the way he talks to you; because, what kind of question is that? He knew exactly how it sounded. His texting mannerisms scream older, succinct with an air of a man who knows exactly how off-guard this all still leaves you. He is so cruel, in the most savory way. It has long since been decided that men age like wine. They sit on a shelf and mature, until they're more rich and deep. Or at least until they've had their fun, their money, and are left with an itch to funnel it all into making something bloom pretty at his attention and spoiling.

Honolulu is so much alike the post cards, and in the same vein, so much different. It's a bustling metropolis with buildings that scrape the turquoise sky. The beach is within walking distance from your hotel, and that is just as peppered with tourists in cover-ups they probably bought right from the ABC store along the strip.

"Waikiki looks nothing like I thought it did," you say. A piña colada daiquiri sweats in your hand under the thick sun. It's hot here. Not like the bone dry heat of summer back at home, but instead it's thick on your skin like a layer of salt off the breeze. You fiddle with the tropical ribbons of your bikini bottoms at the swell of your hip. Lazy and pampered, and nobody could deny it. You wouldn't.

With his arms tucked behind his head on a tanning chair adjacent to yours, he grins. "What did you think it was?" He runs his finger around the rim of his own drink. He'd made you sip off it and found the wrinkle of your nose at the burn humorous.

Not full on city with the same beeping cars and traffic as home, perhaps. Your shoulders have long since turned pink. Your cheeks, a radiant burn to match. It tugs every time your face moves like the skin's just a bit too tight. "Like… When you think of Hawaii, the first thing you think of. That." It's about time you roast your other side. Or else you'll be glowing red on your front and springtime pale at the back. The cheeky bottoms of your bikini's ridden up with all your lounging, the soft spot where your ass meets thigh turned up this way around. Yeonjun doesn't look away when you catch him getting an eyeful. "That guy didn't even ID me." The spot where your nose presses to your pillow of crossed arms smells like sweat and coconutty sunscreen.

"He's not gonna ask you while I'm there," Yeonjun says. He holds one hand up like a visor over his eyes, looking at you under it. The shirt he'd changed into as soon as you hit the room There's a healthy glow set deep in his skin that leads you to suspect that, even if this is the first time he's taken you on a pretty penny vacation, it's not his first. It's a deep, bronze that speaks of a tan that's built on. You're not his first sugar baby. That's something you've come to terms with. It gets a little easier with a swipe of the card.

"Why…?"

Thumbing the crease of your bottom, he supplies his answer with a hum. "It's his job to sell it. This whole city loves a dollar bill." Lifting his own glass, he adds, "And that kid's not trying to offend me by asking."

That kid. A guy somewhere near your age, give or take. It's always those little things that send a furious, brilliant storm of butterflies through your belly. The little ways he reminds you exactly what he is. They never come in grand gestures. More in the way he just moves through the world, and how it bends around his shape to meet him. He didn't ask the associates in the luxury stores he takes you shopping in to perk up and run to serve him, knowing he'll buy. They just do it.

A handful of girls three rows down laugh with one another over the holistic sound of the resort pools. Lifeguards, kids here on vacation with parents glad they're cannon-balling into the pools and bothering the group of twenty-somethings with palms over the mouth of their tumbler glasses to save themselves the misery of discovering how teal, chlorine water mixed with margarita. Sweat has glued your cheek to where it squishes against your upper arm. You keep your head oriented to watch him. "But can't they get in trouble for that?" Talking comes difficult. The heat makes you too lazy. You can hardly even summon the words.

Smiling at that, he answers, "If they get caught, yeah." The muscles dormant in his biceps ripple as he crosses his arms about his chest. He didn't hit the gym; not that you knew of. But he maintains that like he does. Another thing that seems to just come with the whole matured, better, older man package.

That felt topically ironic. Especially considering that you never do intend to be caught. You dread the thought so hard that you've learned to banish it the moment it springs up. It's easier this way. And way more fun. It's not like you never thought about it; toeing the line in the sand without ever really letting the tide rush in on you. "This stuff is so sweet. Should I have another one?"

That gets a kick out of him. "Yeah? You like it?" Yeonjun says. There's a languor dripping off the way he does, sticky like the air. "That's because it's rum, babygirl. All sugar."

Your throat goes all tight. Fumbling after words, you quickly say, "It taste like a smoothie."

"That's why you don't need another one." He laughs. "It hits you faster than you think it will. Especially with the heat." Then, picking up the drink, he drinks down what you hadn't gotten to you. Those expressive brows twist. "Shit, that's sweet."

You only smile and watch him cross his arms back. They look fit to throw you any which way, or even to carry all the bags he would snatch from you before you even got to try and carry yourself. "Okay, it's not that sweet."

Not in any hurry, never in any hurry, he gets that look on his face that you've come to know to mean that he's guiding the conversation a different way. He corrals you so easily that you tend to not even notice that you're on the next topic. He takes control of any conversation with such ease. On your first date, you had been a shaking, shy thing sat across from him. It didn't matter much. With a little steering you and a handsome smile as he listened to you answer his questions, the burden of even carrying conversations was off your shoulders. That was his job, he'd told you later on when you told him how terrified you were.

"I was thinking about heading back to the suite," he starts. The sharp lines of his eyes linger on you like he's plotting it all out in real time, and there's a prospective smoothness to his voice. As if he'd already playing it all out in his head, and he knows exactly what he has in store for you. "Getting dressed. No need to rush, we have all night. We're here to enjoy ourselves. And then head down to the beach walk, shop around, get you some things to try on for me." He doesn't even smirk. Nothing to justify the way your stomach swoops quick. "And I put a reservation in at this nice, low-key grill for us after. If we need to come back real quick to drop off your stuff, we can." Taking one last drink off his glass, he says, "Sound good, baby?"

Sound good? How could you have any objections? You blink at him for a moment. Up until yesterday, you'd never even flown overseas. Vacations meant twelve hour drives and scrapping with your siblings and the blankets and luggage for space in the car, just to end up squished against the door anyway. You were half lead to believe that things like this happened only on T.V. or for faceless people in a tax bracket you knew you'd never touch. And yet…

"What? Do you have something else in mind?" His lips do quirk now, perhaps because he knows exactly what. "We can do whatever your sweet heart wants. No need to be shy with me. We're here for you. Me and Hawaii are good friends."

You rush to correct yourself. "No, that's, like, perfect." Pressing up to your elbows, still baking your backside, you say, "I've just never done this before."

He's heard that before, that first time you were intimate with him. You never imagined your first to be a man with sixteen years on you, who was not your boyfriend but instead something suspended in an awkward space between that and something else. Something that makes your blood rise to your ears and lie to everybody you know. A year ago, two, you would've turned your nose up at another girl for sitting in Hawaii on a man's money. After all, down to its core, it's only a trade, isn't it? The sugar in sugar daddy is the tan in your skin and the necklace at your throat studded, in the shape of a 'Y', in true diamonds. And in sugar baby, it was something much more coveted. Well, you couldn't sneer at yourself now; couldn't have known that it could come like him, and not in a sixty year old man who had to pay for sex because he wouldn't get it otherwise.

"Good." He leans back into his low pool chair, the perfect image of the leisure that is company to what he is. But he's got an airy, soft thing going on with his mouth as the sun rushes back over it. "Maybe we'll go out on a boat tomorrow, too."

He doesn't even have to ask to know the answer.

When Yeonjun means get whatever you want, he means that. Not metaphorically. Not loosely, not a ceiling that you might accidentally brush if you got overeager. There wasn't a budget. Not on you. You have your questions concerning where, exactly, he might have all this money. His Seeking profile didn't even tell. And when you asked, he kissed you and said, "I'm old enough to know that you don't really care about my job. You'd get bored to hell of it eventually. So let's not open that door anyway."

Whatever that meant. You gleaned enough from the dress shirts and ironed slacks that it wasn't anything too mystifying. It was, maybe, a bit overdramatic in the way he said it. Or maybe it was your own head that did the work of imagining some big secret.

Bushes with a deep, waxy green up against pink and white Plumerias with yellow blooming at their centers, stand opposite to the glowing warm storefronts which stud the sidewalk. Your hotel is right in the heart of it all. You step out, and you're right there in downtown Honolulu. Clearly, you two had the same idea as everybody else did. It must be the season back home. The streets are packed. Groups of girls walk with their elbows linked with Leis around their necks, probably coming from a restaurant where they were handed out, couples with kids and couples here hoping to get away from theirs, they all have the same essence about them as you feel in your chest. You feel like you're just gawking at stupid things with stars in your eyes like you've never seen a bush, or a lit-up tourist trap. But how did you even get here? Here, where something sweet hangs and makes the air even heaver. Maybe those flowers. Or the street vendors boasting cups of million-dollar pineapple chunks with the rinds still on and passion fruit stuffed in with papayas, and the way it overlaps with the salt from the water. The shoreline is close enough from here than you can watch the black water rush up and disturb the sand.

"You look beautiful," Yeonjun had told you when you stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't need any flowery enhancers to sound like he meant it. He told you in the simplicity that he was unafraid to use, and even more potently, in the lingering inventory he takes of the dress. His hands had flexed where they were shoved into his pockets in patiently waiting. Because he know more than any man, maybe, that patience paid sweeter. He didn't just enjoy the silhouette the sundress made, though you know he definitely did enjoy that. You're still suffering the echoes in your knees that the smolder in his eyes had made shake. But he made sure to enjoy the golden bangles that made feminine, sparkling sounds as you slipped into your heels. How they complimented the sunset pinks and oranges of the tropical floral fabric, and made the sanguine flush to your cheeks speak.

He had stopped, especially, at your neck. Traced the shape of that 'Y' as it glittered. And if anybody were to ask, you were certain that his throat had bobbed.

Now, he keeps one steady hand at your back and the other in his pants. He is an impossibly handsome man, in the most literal sense of the word. But night makes him something else. It cuts the lines of his face which had an angle to them that you could only attribute to aging. His eyes were slow and pleased and all over you and the view your push-up bra makes. "Do you want one?" he asks when your eyes linger on a stand selling Hibiscus flowers. The ones the grew well and didn't get too beat up by the elements, which tourists like to pluck off the bush anyway.

"I mean… They're, like, fifteen dollars." That was a good meal's worth, as far as you were concerned. You could go without. "That's crazy. People just pick them anyway."

"Fifteen dollars to look beautiful on you," he says, "is nothing. Do you know how expensive you look right now, sweetheart?" Passing the person running the stand a bill, he takes your chin with his thumb and tucks a yellow one behind your ear. It's huge, flirting with your eyes and brushing against your temples. Approval flashes over his gaze. "There we go. Now you look like you're in Hawaii."

God. Nothing about that should make your head go so dumb.

You make your way down the street doing pretty much the same. You dip in and out of stores, racking up bags in his free hand. He has no complaints to give. It's something chemical to him. Like foreplay, watching your eyes light up and your mouth go shy with every yes. Yes, yes, yes. That's his favorite word.

Of course you drag him into Sephora. The black-and-white storefront pulls you in with gravity amidst the high-end stores and the shops with the shot glasses and tees plastered with Waikiki beach regalia. He lets you browse and drop things into the shopping basket. You giggle when you catch sight of him, there in his fine muslin button down pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out with the strain, classy sunglasses pushing his hair off his forehead, balancing the damage you'd already done in one hand and the carnage that will ensue at checkout here in the other. With a playing smile on his face, he says, "Don't you want to do something you can't do at home?"

"I can't shop at Sephora in Hawaii at home." You take your lip into your teeth to fight a coquettish grin. A toasty lip liner lands in the cart with a plastic sound of the packaging. "I'm like a thousand percent sure they have stuff here that we just don't have at home." The one by your place is half the size, and even less stocked. You'd probably had a hand in that.

"You've gotten spoiled," Yeonjun says, and you think it sounds like lust. "I've made you into a little money monster. You used to be so shy."

You gasp with affront, coloring your words precisely spoiled. "Me? Not even close. You have to beg me to spend money on myself!" You did, in fact, used to be much more shy with him. It took a few dates to be able to look him in the eyes. It's that contrast between you that is so intoxicating. How you get all dressed up in girly outfits and ramble at him, and he has the answers for it all.

He nudges you around and aisle into the next. The cart is slowly filling up. When he had said you'd be leaving with more than you came, he'd meant it. "I do," he rasps. "I've never taken another girl somewhere who loved shopping more. You're a blushing, pretty hole in my wallet."

A throaty imitation of a laugh if all you can muster in response to that. It's not like you didn't know he had other sugar babies before yourself. Had probably taken them to Hawaii, too. The thought spirals out of control before you can stamp it out. Brushing the buttery petals of the flower at your ear, you consider if he's done exactly this, all of it, with another girl, too. He has the means to. And then you get to thinking what he could've done with those girls. Did he tell them how pretty they sounded like he loved so much to tell you? "You're mean," you say, empty banter. "I'm go back in the bowl and find a sugar daddy that doesn't bully me."

The harsh overhead lights cut his features and catch the way his jaw ticks. "Is that it?" His eyes flicker down the the basket you're filling. You don't know if it's pointed or him doing the math. "They couldn't afford you."

The next step you take is a bit more wobbly, a knot pulling tight deep in your belly and making your coordination all loose. He watches watches you flounder. Realistically, you are very aware you are outmatched. It doesn't stop you doubling down. Your low heels click against the tile floors as you shuffle toward a perfume display. Heavy glass with powdery vanillas and sharp, full black pepper and night blooming jasmine, you are a self-fulfilling prophecy and gravitate toward only the luxe stuff. Maybe that's what ruffles you. That he's right. You take a greenish bottle and spritz it into the sensitive insides of your wrists.

"How about this one?" you say, prim, and offer it up to him. "Is it pretty…?"

Taking the offer up, his nose feathers against the skin. You suppress the thrill it gives you. A moment, a beat in the air exists in intimate tranquility, before you what you're about to say. He looks up at you through his brows as the scent profile hits him. Creamy banana leaf and flirty, fruity coconut that embodied everything that you were right now. His eyes drop to your mouth only long enough for you to see that he does it. "Buy it." He surrenders to one more drag of how it melts into the heat of your skin before straightening back up. You only ever remember that you have to look up at him when he does that. "I want you to wear that when we meet."

You've always known Yeonjun was more attuned to scents than other men. It was often the first thing he'd bring up when he entered a space, but it was also something he'd whisper into your ears, voice scraping, while he was behind you. So you know what you're doing when you pout your mouth and say, "Do you think the new sugar daddy will like it, too? Should I wear it for him?"

Whatever you thought he'd do, he doesn't. A scoff, or maybe a brisk, annoyed dismissal, you'd expected. Or maybe even he'd say something. But Yeonjun just pauses. Goes blank, with no playful retort to volley back. All you know is that his dark eyes, which had been so content on an indulgent walk down downtown and a nice dinner after, go severe. Darker with no trick of the light.

He only says, "Right."

That leaves you with nothing to say. You cap the tester bottle and take a real box of the perfume. Because now, you might really need that in your favor if the way he had been drinking it down was anything to go off of. Maybe it'll soften him. Your little makeup and perfume detour ends with a whimper, not a bang, as you stand beside him in line and then watch him pull out that wallet despite it. Two bags sit on the counter waiting for you to reclaim them. Full bags. But when he thumbs his credit card and runs it, a sleek, black, metal thing with weight that speaks for itself, it goes through with a ding. You toy with the frills of your little dress to expel the mortification somewhere, or even anywhere, that isn't a rambunctious ball in your chest. You open your mouth to smooth things over a few times, but decide against it. You can't claim to have not know that it would bother him, but it's too late for that.

A weird thrill shoots down your spine at the view. His shoulders rigid and sharp from the back, holding all the things in his head right now that you can only guess at.

The final act takes place in a shop, with him leaned up against a wall that separates the changing rooms from the rest of the place into its own little dim hallway. Obnoxious lights oppress the clothing racks and shoppers from a high, warehouse-like ceiling. A pop station closes in from a speaker in the corner of your dressing room. The clothes you'd rummaged through racks for hang on a gold hook on the wall, waiting for you to stop holding your breath. Even when you finally make yourself move to drop your clothes on the glossy floor below, you're elsewhere. The way his faced dropped? Not just that, but the fact that it wasn't even anger. You don't know what it was; maybe something new that the two of you had created yourselves, or something unique to the reality of what you were to each other.

Yeonjun's knock against the door pauses you. You can almost see it, how he'd rap the backside of his knuckles, head down. His mannerisms are so vivid and branded into your psyche that you could step out right now and you're certain that it's exactly how you'd find him. "Need help?"

The center of your shoulder blades burn because you'd been contorting yourself for the past few minutes to reach the strings behind you. You take your lip into your teeth and take a look of yourself in the mirror. You look expensive. You look like all the things that Choi Yeonjun touches: taken care of. "Uhhh." A part of you wants to deny him. To play the cards that you hold in this long game. He never fails to remind you how much power you hold over him and this arrangement. Why not test the boundaries? But you know what would be sweeter than that. Wordlessly, you pull the latch with a loudness that all dressing room locks seem to have.

Then there he is. His arms are crossed, the muscles there loose but still something that you have to take your mind off, or else you might start to think how they would feel under your teeth. You rove over the slanted height of him and how he still looks tall, even when he leans his head and shoulder into the frame. His eyes rove over you, too. Not a flicker. Not a quick assessment. No. God, no. Not with him.

The latch snaps shut behind him with a barely-there gesture. Your whole stomach drops to the floor and shatters.

It's a little showy. You'll give him that. And maybe you'll also admit that you grabbed this exact dress for this exact reason. A corner of your lip wants to twitch with satisfaction, but you have a plan to see through, and it starts and ends with him groveling for you. What a sight that would be. Even just imagining it and turning the imagery of it in your head, when he's the reason you can even live this life that you do, makes you a rapt little tease. Boys your age can't do this. They couldn't be him if they tried. You're beginning to think that he was a different species of man completely.

A beat passes, and then he runs the pads of his fingertips along the hem of your dress. It ends so, so dangerously; right about where your ass folds over at the sanguine softness of your thighs. The skittering brush of contact is straight electricity, and it's the littlest touch. His eyes meet yours through the mirror. Dark. Smoldering like pure wood smoke, erupting slow like the mountains on these islands that move slow enough to watch their molten greed come, but know that you can do nothing to stop it. It's no fair how he looks at you. Your knees go just completely useless.

Yeonjun completely disregards even pretending he was going to lace that skimpy back up for you. You swallow cotton. "Is it cute?" you ask, because you have a pretty good idea of what the answer is already.

The breathy gasp when he takes the soft fat of your hips into his hands with a greed that says he'd been thinking about them since you walked into this store and while he waited patiently on the other side of the door for this. Or before even that. He tugs your bottom to the front of his jeans and says, with his voice smooth like the scotch he sips, "Of course it's beautiful, baby. Do you want it?"

"Yes," you choke out around a thick knot of anticipation. Your own face meets you, palms braced on either side of the ornate gold mirror and your reflection giving you a show of how ditzy and pathetic he makes you. "But I don't know if I should." The syllables waver toward the end and belie your coquettish act.

He laughs like a scoff while he pushes the skirt of the dress up the swell of your hips, then past it until he can devour the bend of your arch. He taught you that form. And it looks like he has no notes on your technique, either. The pressure of him testing it makes your head go dumb. "When have I ever told you no?" he rasps. "You have no idea how expensive you are, baby. No idea. Your little shopping trip would've maxed out any other man's card."

There. That's the spot. You pout your mouth at him and catch him eating it up in his reflection. "I'm expensive? Am I too expensive for you, then?"

Of course not. Look at you. Look at where you are. His card is yours and you think that it's near bottomless at this point. You don't even have to ask. Yeonjun's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

Your panties hit the floor in one tug. The walls of the changing room become infinitely smaller as he wraps your hair up in his fist. The ache in your scalp brings a prickle to your eyes. "Is that what you think?" he says, that polished quality wipes completely raw. He tries to sound like he's not losing his mind, but it's there if you look past the lilt. "Do I need to buy you the island? The world?" It sounds like he would. Like he will. Instead of reaching for himself, he tests between your thighs for what he knows he'll find there, because of course you're soaked. You've been soaked since Sephora.

"Uh-huh," you say, because he's flicking your clit in little tests and every time he hits the sensitive underside of it, the nerves there send your heels clattering on the marble and your legs trying to find purchase. And because, what's dignity with a man sixteen years older than you who puts money in your bank account and fucks you in high-end boutique dressing rooms?

He likes that. But he doesn't give you anything real, doesn't reward the behavior you've been prancing around him with. His palm wraps around your waist to press into your belly and steady your scrambling legs like it goes without saying. The way his fingers stretch over the soft, doughy place there, how it eats up the expanse of your waist, makes you swallow hard. "God help the next kid that gets you. What's he gonna do with you? How are you gonna manage pizzeria dates and a one-bedroom apartment when you know what you have? What I've given you?"

You can't answer. His fingers curl into you, and he wastes no time finding the spot that he knows like muscle memory. The delicate anatomy of a woman's sweet spot seems like something that just came with the package of him. He doesn't have to search, and he probably never did. Sparks explode behind your eyelids like the fireworks they had been setting off on the beach in brilliant golds and teals. If he hadn't steadied you with the strength of his palm, you'd probably be crumpling down to the floor right about now.

"Hmm?" You can hear the condescending purr on his mouth, because you don't have the strength to pry your eyes open to see it.

You mewl a sorry imitation for the word, "Yes," and go back to trying to wiggle your ass into the incessant curling of his fingers. The sounds of him fingering you makes your ears and chest flush, each inappropriate, sloppy wet noise proving how easy you are for him. "Right—right there, please." Your head drops as the first word breaks in the air. It's really a sorry excuse for words.

He listens so well. The angle of his two middle fingers, the width of them just enough to make you crazy and the finesse of how he uses them like weapons even worse so, twitches just up. It's as though he feels it himself somewhere inside of you that he's found it, because he finds it and you know you're royally fucked from that moment on. "Good," he says. "That way I know I get to keep you. Because you'll go and you'll try other men,"—his forearm strains with how he forgets the soreness in it to fuck you on his fingers right—"and you'll be right back here. In my bed. On my money. My spoiled little mess."

The thought that maybe, beyond the pleasure he gets out of knowing he could give you anything, buy you anything, dressing you up in him, he likes you this way because it means nothing else would ever fill the spot he carved doesn't occur to you. Currently because your thighs spasm and shake and it takes every working synapse in your brain firing off to digest how he fucks you so good that it's a leash in and of itself. Hopefully you'll be here when he starts going salt and pepper, because what would sex be if not this?

Your choked, scraped whimpers get too loud for him. His palm over your mouth finally has your eyes fluttering open, and the sight that greets you back is potent enough to send the same molasses through your veins as the heel of his palm grinding down on your swollen clit. "Shh, baby." He grinds harder, because he's mean. "So goddamn whiny. What a princess you are; can't take what you were begging for all night. Why act up if you're gonna tell the whole store how I'm being mean to you?"

He gets your answer in a gone, strangled sob against his palm. Your own damp breaths where it seals over your mouth makes the air thinner. Each roll of his palm forward is met with a helpless push of your ass back on him. His wrist is practically pinned between the bulge in his jeans, because of course he's affected even if he'd like to pretend otherwise, and your bottom. It doesn't stop him one bit. The private sounds that his silencing makes is better than any reckless moaning. It's almost dirtier, almost wronger.

"Gonna cum?" he rasps, watching the trashy mess your face makes in the mirror like a god exacting justice. The weeping mascara lines pooling where his hand meets your face and the drooping eyes that want to roll back into your skull, the high pink of your cheeks and how he can watch himself give you this like he give you everything fucking else. You were close, but just the question winds you up tight enough to snap. That face of his goes patronizing with a furrow of his brows. Slick rolls in hot rivulets down the insides of your trembling thighs. "That's right. There we go. You need to grind that pussy on my hand? Grind it. Go ahead and see if I'm gonna give you what you're asking for."

You try to say something. You really do. To tell him that you'll do anything for it, that he's melting your brain like butter, or god, just anything. The backs of your eyes and your throat and the pit of your stomach all prickle and go tight at once. He probably hears something unflattering come out from behind his palm, something strangled and a fie on the decorum that a place like this deserves. That mirror that you'd been depending on to keep you at least somewhat planted where he's had you bent in half goes clattering against the wall behind it because you're grasping at it like it can help you.

He stops. Just completely, unfairly, cruelly stops. His fingers come out of you a mess and you have to pretend they weren't just in you as he straightens up, swipes a thumb through your blackened cheeks, and then he doesn't touch you again. You're left gaping at yourself in the mirror and wondering with a naked dissonance, like when something heavy hits metal and leaves it ringing, what the hell you're supposed to do with the knot in your lower belly now. You almost think to just rub one out after he steps out.

Tugging his collar looser around his throat, he works his jaw and lets you change back. It all feels too tight; the frills and the way you clatter uselessly out when you've finished and the neglected pangs of throbbing, so hard that you can feel the pounding of your heartbeat all the way up in your ears. You avoid eye contact when he pays for the dress up at the register. If the flushed face and the smearing of mascara that would give you away no matter how hard you tried to wipe at your cheeks and jaw didn't give you away, maybe the buzzing in your eyes would. He makes small talk with her and takes the bag and receipt as if he wasn't just knuckle deep in you. It's the antithesis of all things fair. You have to breathe with intention as he leads the way back out onto the streets. The air is thick and salty enough to swim through. It's no help up against clammy, salty skin itself. The only thing that keeps you kinda grounded as you stumble by his shoulder, because even now he's steepled your fingers together, is the sweet scent of the palm leaves touching the sky above you. Otherwise you're swimming through the honking and the weaving between bodies and the pulse of what he did to you.

You want to dig your heels in and demand he wraps his fingers around your throat and fix it. Or make a scene so big he has to. But you just blink dumbly the whole way back to the room, because you are nowhere near as gutsy as that, and half as coherent at the moment.

The door clicks closed behind you again in a pantomime of that stuffy, unreal scene you just left behind. You kick your heels off and wait. Wait to see what he does, to see if he'll pounce on you the way you ran over a generous hundred times on the way here. Yeonjun just steps out of his own shoes, drops the new dress off on a seat, and works his watch off by the night stand. The lamp there, a low warm ambience, lights the angles of him. The way his shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how he tapers out to something thin at the waist that lingers in your mind after you fuck—how the stretch below his navel and the dusting of hair there gives way to the V, and how that gives way to his cock. When you first had seen it, he didn't even laugh, though he could've. You'd just stared like you were torn between running away from it and testing if it was as hard and warm as it looked. No; he held your face as he told you that it was okay, that he wanted you to become so familiar with it that you could feel the exact shape and curve of it in your haziest dreams. You press your thighs together as you struggle with the strap of your heel.

A metallic sound works, and then he sets the silver-faced watch down. Then his eyes finally, for the first time since he stepped into that dressing room, meet yours. Not through any mirrors. The weight of that is entirely different.

"Bend over the bed," he says. "C'mon, baby girl. I've been going insane over this all day."

The hinges of your jaw ache. "Why?" You're stumbling over to do just that, because you're more talk than you are brazen. "So you can just stop again? I have fingers, you know. I don't need you."

And then his belt makes a noise that tells you he intends to see it through this time. Your stomach does three full flips, ass in the air like the obedient lap dog that you'd be for him a hundred times over. Because if he groomed you and petted you and you were his one, favorite girl for it? What else could you possibly need?

"Huh." The belt comes loose in a rasp, somewhere behind you now. He'd circled the bed completely. "I could. We could sit here and do that all night, if we wanted. But where would be the fun in that?" he says, and then he bends over your back and speaks into the shell of your ear, "I have about a thousand other, more creative things I'm gonna do to you, sweetheart. And trust me; I've had a lot of time to think them."

The shudder he tears from you is so visceral, it's like he'd wrapped a hand around your throat. You choke your swallow down dry and say, "Please do it, do whatever you want. I can take it."

He presses a wet, biting kiss into that spot where your pulse meets jawline. And then another that lingers against the back of your shoulder, and then he kisses his way down and straightens back up to make a mess of your outfit all over again. "I know you can," he rasps, his own voice scraped down to something needy that reflects exactly what's burning between your legs right now. You can't tell if it should feel like a good thing, but it just raises a chill on your skin. Because if the same blistering things that's inside you is inside of him right now, then you don't know what you've signed yourself up for.

"You're still on the pill?" he says, and then when you hesitate to answer he takes a handful of ass. "Sweetheart. Please."

You nod. He takes that and forgets the condom in his wallet to let a line of spit fall down over your cunt from the back. As if you weren't wet enough. You don't know if you've ever been so slick in your life, so wiggly that you whine at him to, "Hurrrrry." The glob lands at the top of yout slit and follows gravity to your clit, and he goes quiet to watch it find its place on you. He takes his proud length and strokes it once or twice to feel it twitch, to give himself a pathetic teaser for what was to come.

Then he's pounding into you until stars shoot behind your eyelids, until you're making noises that would embarrass you if they were ever caught on tape. The come from your throat, and they practically stay there, bouncing with each collision of his groin against your ass and the backs of your thighs. You eat straight comforter as he braces one arm beside your hips to cant his hips up, right into the place he had fun with teasing earlier. It's probably pretty obvious to the poor neighbors what the grinding of the headboard against the wall might be, but you're too busy getting your brains fucked away to be a considerate neighbor.

"Mfh!" you tell the bedsheets. The laugh that he pants into your shoulder blades is pure, undiluted dirtiness and heat.

"So mouthy," he croons, though he's no better off than you. Each time you flutter tight around him, his fingers dig deeper divots into your hip. "And so pretty when you're split on my cock and can't talk. Isn't that right, baby?" He bends completely over your back, and you're forced to remember through the scattered thoughts of how he looked behind you in that mirror. His body ate yours up. It didn't matter if you were taller, if you were any other way. He'd make you look tiny anyway, just like how his fingers stretch over the small of your back and how he handles you with it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna hear that mouth go."

Breathing is a thing of the past. You shove your face to one side so at least you aren't suffocating in the sheets, face such a mess that you can feel it more than the twist of your brows and the pout on your mouth. Sweat beads at your temples and hair sticks there over your flaming cheeks. "Choke me, choke me," you say. It's the dumbified words of somebody who has about five words in their current arsenal and was using all their brain power for each. You choke and sob and bite whines into the air and meet every single one of his thrusts.

He's not gonna let you ask twice. The precision of his fingers is food for your brain, thinning your windpipe just enough to twist every nudge of his tip to your cervix into something more potent and overwhelming. Your nails bite into his wrist at your neck, skull digging back into his shoulder and hips being ground into the edge of the mattress every time he strokes with mindless, carnal rhythm. "Choke you?" he almost laughs, like his hand wasn't around your throat right now. "You're full of surprises, you know that? How's that for that sweet brain, baby girl? Huh?"

Your face twists up. "Uh—uh-huh!" You can't breathe, can't think, in the best way. Lips wobbling, you pant, "I like it!"

That has his hips coming down on you in a different way. He falls over your back and drags in the scent at your neck like he's huffing something stronger than the sweet scent of sex on your skin. But it does something electric to him. His abs tighten against your spine, grinding his cock into you like he could be any deeper than this. It feels like he's up in your stomach, you brain, dressing that up just like he does to the rest of you. "Fuck." His voice crumbles into tatters. "You smell so fucking good. Like candy." He kisses at the spot that you, even in this state, recall with a jerk to be where you had sprayed that perfume. It had melted into the warm pulse there, faded down into the base notes. The kiss isn't enough. He presses his tall nose right into it and grabs at you so hard that it aches. "I'm not gonna last long, baby. God, you're getting more of this stuff. I'll buy you more before we—" His wet forehead falls into the soft spot between your shoulders and where your nape begins, every rolling thrust like he's staving off an orgasm coming just from the olfactory sweetness of you.

You've long since raked red-hot lines down his taut forearm, but a particular tightening of his fingers at your throat and a wet slide that hits just the right spot without you having to ask sends you over like a house of cards. The arch in the very angle of your back bows back against him. The suite falls away, all of Hawaii and your agreement follows, until you're just a girl under a man who knows exactly how to play you. "I'm cumming!" you say, all but stumbling over the warning. "Help!"

You don't know what the hell you're saying, and he's off the deep end too. He throws you up the bed and digs his knees in to gain purchase and something in that scent he caught, in the thoughts that had been festering in his head all night, comes alive. He rails you right into the sheets and takes what he needs as you claw at the pillows and sheets through yours. Because with him, you're gonna cum first if he has to grit his teeth and pull out just to make sure he doesn't first.

"That's it," he growls. "That's my spoiled girl." Then his own hips stop and each stutter of them as he fucks it into you, each pant and breath into your shoulders and kiss to the back of your head, tells you that he's followed you down. As his weight smothers you into the pillows, grounding you and suffocating you until you can come down and breathe again, he makes your hair into a loose ponytail to reach the soft parts of your neck that the tangle of it hid.

His heartbeat at your back reverberates into your chest. Speaking into your face as he takes the softness of your cheeks and watches them squish under his fingers, he says, "How's that for leaving you wanting?" There's a lazy, pleased light in his eyes. What else could a man need, more than a pretty girl glowing with post-orgasmic bliss under him, in a bed he put her in, in a frilly, rumpled dress that only he could afford? Nothing. He was living the life that other men loathed him for. He nips the turn of your shoulder and says, "You were put on this Earth to test old bastards like me, huh?"

You can hardly give him an enthusiastic smile. Probably.

ash⦂ #needthat like i finished this in a haze at 4am before a shift so if that tells you anything about how i was feeling…

⸉⋆ ❨❕❩ ･ @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , @izzyy-stuff , @lunesdesire , @sunoolver , @xylatox-deactivated20260509 , @hyunj00 , @taebatu , @caratcakemoa , @biteyoubiteme , @dawngyu , @hyunruhi , @heesmiles , @beomiracles , @lunesdesire , @yystarz , @cloverwalker , @bamgeutori , @beomgyusluver , @cen116 , @angelhyuka , @nanilis

[miffheewon]

the sheer magic i've just read...

[stwryun]

𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

SYNOPSIS : when your boyfriend gets a lil too jealous when you are partnered with his bandmate

𝟏𝟑𝟑𝟐 ───── riki x 𝓯.reader ⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

WARNINGS : semi public, mirror sex, rough handling, jealousy

🗯️ JO’s NOTES : hiii i hope you guys are doing greatt <33 will try to post more often, if you guys have any requests do not be shy ;)

The bass from the final run through still hummed through the practice room walls as the last of the staff and members trickled out, doors clicking shut behind them.

Sweat clung to your skin under the thin tank top and leggings you always wore for choreography sessions, but it wasn’t the exertion making your pulse race. It was the way riki, your secret boyfriend of six months had been staring at you the entire three hour rehearsal.

Not just staring burning. You’d felt it every time you positioned Jake’s hands on your waist for the partner section. Every time Jake’s chest brushed your back during the lift. Every time Riki’s sharp jaw tightened and his dark eyes narrowed from across the room while he danced with his own assigned partner.

He was professional on the surface sharp lines, flawless timing but you knew him better than anyone. That quiet, possessive storm was building behind every controlled breath.

Now the room was empty. Mirrors on every wall reflected the low emergency lights, turning the space into a glowing cage of glass and hardwood. The door locked with a soft snick as Riki turned the key he’d swiped from the staff table.

You didn’t even have time to turn around fully.

His tall frame was suddenly behind you, one hand slamming flat against the mirror in front of your face, the other snaking around your waist and yanking you back against his chest hard.

“You think that was cute?” His voice was low, rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Letting Jake touch you like that? Hands all over what’s mine?”

“Riki—” you started, but the sound died when his fingers dug into your hip, grinding you back against the very obvious bulge straining his sweatpants.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t say his name right now not when I just watched him hold you the way only I’m allowed to.”

His free hand slid up, cupping your jaw and forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at the two of you in the mirror. Your flushed cheeks, his sharp eyes dark with jealousy and hunger.

He was taller, broader from all the comeback training, and right now he looked every bit the possessive idol who’d been forced to share his choreographer girlfriend with another member for three straight hours.

“You’re the choreographer,” he muttered, teeth grazing your neck, “but you’re my girl, mine and I had to stand there pretending it didn’t kill me every time his fingers slipped under your shirt.”

He shoved your tank top up roughly, exposing your sports bra. One tug and that was gone too, your breasts spilling free. His large hand covered one immediately, pinching the nipple hard enough to make you gasp.

The mirror showed everything your back arching, his lips latching onto the side of your throat, sucking a mark you’d have to hide tomorrow.“Riki someone could come back—”

“No one’s coming back,” he cut you off, voice dripping with dark promise. “And even if they did, I don’t care anymore let them see who you really belong to.”

He spun you around fast, pressing your front against the cool mirror. Your palms slapped against the glass as he yanked your leggings and panties down in one rough motion, leaving them bunched around your knees. The cold air hit your soaked pussy and you whimpered.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered, kicking your feet apart. In the reflection you saw him shove his own sweats down just enough to free his cock thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. “Look how wet you are for me after I watched you dance with him.”

Two long fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the slick mess before he pushed them inside you without warning. You moaned, forehead dropping against the mirror.

“Already dripping,” he snarled, scissoring his fingers cruelly. “Was it the dancing or knowing I was watching you with Jake that got you this soaked?”

“Riki—fuck—”

“Answer me.” He curled his fingers against that spot that made your knees buckle. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you gasped. “Only yours.”

“That’s right.” He pulled his fingers out, replacing them instantly with the blunt head of his cock. One brutal thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open in one go. The mirror fogged from your broken cry.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for hours deep, punishing strokes that made your breasts bounce against the glass and your breath stutter.

One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so you had to watch every second the way his hips snapped against your ass, the way his abs flexed with every thrust, the way his face was twisted in raw jealousy and lust.

“Mine,” he growled against your ear with every snap of his hips. “Not Jake’s not anyone’s mine to fuck mine to ruin.”

You could barely hold yourself up, legs shaking, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you against him, pounding harder. The wet sound of skin on skin echoed obscenely in the empty practice room.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he demanded, biting down on your shoulder. “Tell me you’ll never let another member touch you like that again.”

“I’m sorry—ah—fuck, Riki—I’m yours—”

“Louder.” His hand slid down to rub tight circles over your clit, relentless. “Say it while you come on my cock.”

The orgasm hit you like a freight train, vision whiting out as you clenched around him, crying his name loud enough that anyone still in the building might hear. He didn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release with short, brutal thrusts.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groaned, voice breaking. “Gonna leave my cum dripping down your thighs so every time you look in this mirror tomorrow you remember who fucked you right here.”

With a final deep thrust he came hard, hips stuttering, hot pulses flooding you as he buried his face in your neck. For a long moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the mirror under your palms.

He stayed inside you, softening slowly, arms locked around your waist like he still couldn’t let go.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your skin, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “Next comeback choreography, you pair me with you or I swear I’ll drag you into this room every single night until you remember.”

You smiled shakily at his reflection, still trembling.“Jealousy looks good on you, Riki.”He smirked, dark eyes meeting yours in the glass as he slowly pulled out, cum already starting to slip down your thigh.

“Good because I’m not even close to done being jealous tonight.”

[stwryun]

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑

SYNOPSIS : your sweet boyfriend heeseung helps you through your first squirting experience

𝟏𝟔𝟖𝟎 ───── heeseung x 𝓯.reader ⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

CONTENT WARNINGS : squirting, fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie

🗯️ JO’s NOTES : lmk your thoughts in the comments section 🫶🏼 and also requests are open :p

The bedroom is dim, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp painting long shadows across the sheets. Heeseung has you propped against the headboard, pillows tucked behind your lower back so your hips are tilted just right.

Your knees are bent and spread wide, his large hands already holding your inner thighs open even though you’re trembling.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and honey smooth as he kisses the inside of your knee. “You’re already doing so good just letting me see you like this.”

Your face is burning. You’ve come close before teetering on that strange, overwhelming edge but never tipped over. Tonight he decided that changes.

Heeseung settles between your legs, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. The sight of his broad shoulders alone makes your stomach clench. He notices, smirks softly, then leans in and presses the slowest, wettest open-mouth kiss right over your clit.

You jolt. “Easy,” he soothes immediately, big palm smoothing up your belly to rest between your breasts. “Breathe with me, in out good girl.”

His middle and ring finger slide through your folds slow, deliberate coating themselves before he sinks them inside you to the second knuckle. You’re soaked already; the sound is obscene.

“Listen to how wet you are for me,” he whispers against your thigh. “That’s it let me hear it.”Two long fingers curl upward, searching, stroking that soft, ridged patch inside you with practiced patience. When your breath hitches harder he knows he’s found it.

“There she is,” he praises, voice thick with affection even as his fingers start a slow, firm come hither motion. “That’s my girl’s sweet spot, yeah?”You nod frantically, thighs shaking.

He doesn’t speed up yet. Instead he keeps that steady, deep curl press, drag, press, drag while his thumb starts lazy circles over your clit. The dual sensation makes your hips twitch upward involuntarily.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts gently, free hand pressing your pelvis down. “Stay right here for me. Let it build slow. You’re gonna feel like you need to pee soon, okay? That’s normal that’s exactly what we want.”Your eyes widen, a tiny embarrassed sound slipping out.

Heeseung’s expression softens even more. “Hey,” he coos, leaning up so he can kiss you properly slow, deep, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to melt you from the inside. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re perfect just trust me and let go when it hits, alright?”

You nod against his mouth, dizzy.

He drops back down, adds a third finger slow stretch that makes you whine and picks up the pace just enough. The wet, rhythmic sound of his fingers fucking into you fills the room. Every time he bottoms out he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, giving you constant pressure.

Your breathing turns ragged. That full, urgent feeling starts blooming low in your pelvis different from a regular orgasm, heavier, almost scary. “Hee—heeseung—” your voice cracks, hands scrabbling at his wrist.

“I know, baby. I know.” His tone stays so fucking gentle even as his fingers slam harder, curling ruthlessly against that spot on every stroke now. “You’re doing so good. So close. Look at you dripping down my wrist.”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a rough whisper against your ear.“Let it go soak me fucking drench my hand, pretty girl—I want it i want to feel you gush all over me.”The words hit like a spark.

Your whole body locks up. The pressure crests sharp, blinding and then you’re shattering.

A broken cry tears from your throat as you come, and it’s not just clenching around his fingers. A hot, wet rush pulses out of you, splashing against his palm, his forearm, the sheets. You’re squirting actually squirting and Heeseung groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“That’s it fuck yes, baby there’s my good girl,” he growls, fingers still working you through it, drawing out every shuddering wave until you’re gasping, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his wrist.

He finally slows, eases his fingers out with a wet sound, and brings them to his mouth sucking them clean while holding eye contact.You’re shaking chest heaving. A dazed, embarrassed, euphoric mess.

Heeseung crawls up your body, caging you gently, kissing away the tears that slipped down your temples without you realizing.“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your cheek. “You did amazing I’m so proud of my baby”

His lips find yours again slower this time, sweeter while one hand strokes your hair.

“Want me to do it again?” he asks softly, a teasing lilt creeping back in as his hardening length presses against your soaked thigh. “Or should I just fuck you nice and deep while you’re still all sensitive and drippy for me?”

You whimper into his mouth.He smiles against your lips.

Heeseung’s mouth is still curved in that soft, dangerous smile as he kisses you again deeper this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your body is still buzzing, thighs slick and trembling, core fluttering with aftershocks. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you let go like that,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, edged with hunger. “Think you can take me now, baby? All sensitive and soaked?”Your nod is immediate, needy. Words feel too far away.

He chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your throat as he nips the skin there. “That’s my girl.”

He shifts, shoving his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. You feel the heavy, hot length of him drag along your inner thigh thick, already leaking at the tip. Your breath catches again.Heeseung notices he always notices.

“Eyes on me,” he says gently, even as he notches himself at your entrance, rubbing the swollen head through your folds. “Wanna see your face when I slide in.”You lock eyes with him. His are dark, pupils blown, but the sweetness is still there wrapped around something feral.

He pushes in slow.The stretch is intense after you’ve already come so hard your walls still pulsing, hypersensitive. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. He freezes halfway, jaw tight, giving you time.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re doing so good. Taking me so well already.”A shaky exhale leaves you. He waits until your hips relax, until you’re the one rocking up, silently asking for more.

That’s when he sinks the rest of the way in one smooth, deep thrust.

Your back arches off the bed with a broken moan. He’s so thick, so deep, pressing right against every overstimulated nerve ending. You feel full in a way that makes your toes curl.

“Fuck—” he groans against your neck, hips stuttering once he bottoms out. “So tight still clenching around me like that. You feel what you did to yourself? So wet I could drown in you.”

He starts moving slow at first, long dragging strokes that let you feel every inch pulling out, every inch pushing back in. The wet sound of it is filthy, your arousal coating him, dripping down to where you’re joined.

You whimper every time he bottoms out, the head of his cock nudging that same swollen spot his fingers had wrecked earlier.Heeseung notices that too.

“Oh?” he breathes, voice teasing even as his hips snap a little harder. “Right there again, huh?”You can only nod, words gone.

He hooks one of your legs over his elbow, opening you wider, changing the angle so he hits even deeper. The new position makes you see stars.

“There we go,” he praises, pace picking up still controlled, but rougher now. The bed creaks under the force. “Look at you taking it so well. My perfect girl letting me fuck you right after you squirted all over my hand.”

Your hands scrabble at his back, trying to pull him closer, deeper. He obliges leans down until your chests are pressed together, skin slick with sweat.

“Hold on to me,” he murmurs, voice suddenly softer again. Then he starts really moving hard, deliberate thrusts that make your whole body jolt with every stroke.

You’re loud can’t help it. Broken moans, gasps, his name over and over.Heeseung’s breathing is ragged against your ear. “You gonna come again for me? Gonna soak my cock this time too?”

The thought alone makes you tighten around him.He growls actually growls and slams in harder, hips snapping with purpose now. The headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, voice wrecked. “Let me feel it squeeze me so fucking tight yeah, just like that—fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it—”

Your second orgasm hits different sharper, more overwhelming because he’s inside you, stretching you open while that same spot gets battered relentlessly. You cry out, body locking up as another hot rush spills out around him, coating his cock, his pelvis, the sheets beneath you.

Heeseung swears under his breath, thrusts turning erratic. “Fuck—baby—gonna—” His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes hard, pulsing deep inside you, filling you up while your walls keep fluttering around him.

For long seconds neither of you moves just panting, clinging, trembling together.Then he softens again. Heeseung presses slow, gentle kisses along your jaw, your temple, the corner of your mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers, still buried inside, careful not to pull out yet. “Did so fucking good for me.”You manage a tiny, blissed out nod, arms looping around his neck.He smiles against your skin sweet, proud, a little smug.

“Think we made a mess,” he teases softly, finally easing out with a wet sound that makes you both shiver. He glances down at the soaked sheets, then back at you with pure adoration. “Worth it.”

He gathers you close, tucking your face into his neck, one hand stroking down your spine in long, soothing lines.

“Rest for a minute,” he murmurs, kissing your hair. “Then I’m running us a bath and maybe only if you want we can see how many more times I can make you do that tonight.”

You hide your shy smile against his skin.He chuckles, low and warm. “Yeah thought so.”

[miffheewon]

accurate depiction of me reading this:

i genuinely couldn't get enough of heeseung in this, he was so (loud clattering noises) im ready to die by that dih IDCCCCC! 🙏🏾 i WILL be reading more of your fics 🙂‍↕️

[nephynes]

IN THE HOUSE OF PARK ──.୨ৎ park sunghoon one shot

Being married to Park Sunghoon was simply defined by polite distance and a perfectly curated public image. Who would’ve thought all it would take to fracture that was a single overhead conversation?

nsfw warnings ── he’s so pathetic i want him, angst if you’re..? unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral (f rec), messy eater hoon, squirting, big dick hoon, he gets a little mean, creampie, fingering, slight breeding/pregancy kink, praise, mild verbal degradation, size difference, power exchange, overstimulation, sexual frustration, slow burn (kinda), let me know if i missed any.

word count ── 7.3k

Your arranged marriage with the Park Sunghoon had always been a work of art in his opinion, when he married you about twenty six months ago, it was with the detached logic of a merger. He provided you the legacy and the financial fortress while you provided the grace a woman married to him needed to have—you were flawless and the maternal warmth for the child you had brought into the world via surrogacy was indeed the cherry on top of your beautiful marriage on paper.

For the first year and a half, he really was content. You were like roommates who shared a last name and a common goal. He worked at his family firm and you managed the house and the social calendar.

Then, Sunghoon began working from his home office more frequently and the distance he had carefully maintained started to collapse. It was like suddenly, you weren't just a figure at the other end of the dining table. You were now a constant and vibrant presence in his periphery. He'd be mid call with clients in another country and see you through the glass doors, sitting in the sun drenched morning room with a cup of tea, looking so serene it made his own chest ache with a sudden envy for your peace.

He’d see you with the baby, your hair pulled back as you laugh at something the child did, it was a side of you he never saw under the harsh lights of a ballroom. He’d see you headed to the home gym in those form fitting yoga sets that highlighted exactly how much he had been missing by staying at the office until midnight.

The professionalism he prided himself on was starting to fray.

One afternoon, you tapped on his office door dressed to go out with an elegant tailored coat draped over your shoulders, looking every bit the sophisticated wife of a high ranking man.

"Sunghoon? I'm headed out to Mrs Yang’s ladies brunch we discussed. I've made sure the nurse has everything for the evening," you said softly, standing in the doorway. "I'll likely be back after you've had dinner."

He looked up from his monitors, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. For a split second, the urge to tell you not to go and to stay here, the urge to tell you to sit in the chair opposite him and to just be was so overwhelming he almost spoke it. He wanted to ask you what you did when you weren't being his wife, he wanted to know what you thought about when you were alone in this massive house.

"I see," he managed with a low voice. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. "Enjoy yourself. Don't feel rushed."

"Thank you, Sunghoon," you replied with that same cordial smile you'd given him for a year and a half.

As you turned to leave, the scent of your perfume lingered in the room, and Sunghoon felt a wave of genuine panic. He was falling in love with his own wife—a woman he had treated like a business partner for over six hundred days, yet he didn't know how to bridge the gap without breaking the perfect arrangement you had built together. He was a man who handled billions of dollars with ease and yet he found himself completely paralyzed by the idea of asking you to stay for dinner just because he liked the way you breathed.

Days later, he walked out of his office, originally intending to simply check on the baby in the nursery, but the sight of the hallway bathroom your preferred door ajar and the sound of your voice drifting from inside stopped him in his tracks. He stood in the hallway, the thick carpet muffling his presence as he heard the unmistakable splashing of water and the clear sound of a voice on speakerphone.

"I still can't wrap my head around it, girl. I’ll tell you that for free," your friend's voice echoed through the bathroom. "You’re like the blueprint of the perfect society wife...and you're a married virgin…with a kid. How does it feel, honestly?"

Sunghoon swore his heart skipped a few beats, his hand grabbing the wall for balance. A virgin? The logic of his world shifted until he felt dizzy. He had assumed, given your poise and the ease with which you navigated adulthood, that your past was just as lived in as his own.

He heard you giggle and it was a light sound he rarely heard in his presence. "You can't miss something you've never had," you replied and he could almost picture the shrug of your shoulders. Then, your voice dropped into a conspiratorial, slightly dirty tone that sent lightening straight to his gut. "Besides, it's not like I'm exactly suffering. I just rub my clit a little when I'm feeling particularly aroused and that usually does it for me. It's efficient."

The mental image of you alone in your bed a few doors from his, touching yourself because of a need he hadn't even considered you had, was almost too much to process. He felt a sudden, sharp spike of arousal but he also wanted to throw up.

"I just don't know how you two do it," your friend laughed. "Living in that house together, looking like that."

"It's easy, really," you said and the nonchalance in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. "I'm pretty sure Sunghoon has a mistress. Some girl in a penthouse that he pays for to keep him satisfied. It makes sense, really. He's a man with needs and he's certainly not getting it here."

You sounded...relieved, you sounded like the idea of him being with someone else was somehow a weight off your shoulders, like it was a logical solution to a problem you didn't want to solve.

He felt a surge of rage even down to his fingertips, he didn't have a mistress. What he did have was a mountain of work and a growing obsession with the woman currently dismissing him as some predictable cliché. The fact that you thought so little of his character or perhaps so little of your own appeal, made him want to barge into the room and show you exactly how satisfied he wasn't.

But he stood there instead, letting his knuckles turn white as he fought the urge to kick the door open and confront you. He wanted to tell you that there was no penthouse, no other girl and that the only person he wanted to satisfy him was the one currently applying toner and joking about her virginity. He stayed rooted to the spot cause he couldn’t bring himself to move an inch, the cordial roommate facade had finally shattered beyond repair. He wasn't just a husband in name anymore, he was now a man who had been challenged and he was finally ready to break the rules of your arrangement.

"I mean, look at him," you continued, your voice taking on a wistful quality that Sunghoon had never been privy to. "I'm not blind. I've definitely fantasized about it. He's incredibly attractive and if he ever actually tried...well, I wouldn't exactly say no. But that's never going to happen, so whatever. It's better this way."

"I don't know," your friend hummed in a more suggestive tone. "With those shoulders and the way he carries himself? He looks like he could probably fuck you mid air without breaking a sweat. I've seen him lift your baby's heavy ass stroller like it was a feather."

You let out a genuine laugh that echoed through the bathroom. "Stop! You're going to make it weird the next time I have to see him at dinner."

The sound of your footsteps approaching the door snapped him out of his trance, the adrenaline spike was instantaneous, it made him bolt down the hallway with his heart hammering against his ribs in a way that no board meeting had ever achieved. He stopped a few doors down, quickly smoothing his shirt and taking a deep breath just as you stepped out into the corridor in a silk robe.

He turned back toward you, timing it perfectly so it looked like he was just making his way from the nursery toward the stairs. You nearly bumped into him, your eyes widening in mild surprise. You looked fresh, your skin glowing from your skincare routine and for the first time, Sunghoon didn't bother to stop his eyes from dropping to your lips.

"Oh! Hello, Sunghoon," you said and he couldn't help but notice how your voice returned to that perfectly modulated tone. There wasn't a hint of the dirty girl he'd just heard on the phone.

"I didn't realize you were still upstairs. Have you had lunch yet? I can have the kitchen prepare something for you if you're planning on staying in the office for the afternoon."

You looked at him with such sweet, domestic concern, asking if he'd eaten as if you hadn't just spent the last ten minutes psychoanalyzing his sex life and debating his physical strength with your little friend.

He stared at you, eyes dark and searching. He knew the united front was still there but now he also knew what was hiding behind it. He knew you wanted him, he knew you were just waiting for him to move. And most importantly, he knew you were his—completely untouched and entirely misinformed about where he spent his nights.

"I haven't," he finally said before he took a half step closer, encroaching on your personal space just enough to see your smile shake. "Perhaps you'll join me? I think it's time we had a conversation that isn't about some stupid society event."

"Oh. Uh—What do you mean, Sunghoon?"

"What do I mean?" he repeated, the discipline that had defined his entire life for nearly thirty years finally snapping. He had never been good at keeping secrets—his integrity was too rigid and his conscience too loud. The words didn't just tumble out, they literally erupted. "I mean I don't have a mistress, Y/n. I haven't even looked at another woman, let alone touched one, since the day our families sat us down in that boardroom to discuss this arrangement."

You stood frozen, the blood draining from your face as the weight of his words hit you. The realization that he had been standing right there and had heard every shameful, intimate detail of your phone call made your ears ring.

"The idea of a woman in a penthouse somewhere is...it's preposterous. I've spent every night in this house, working myself to exhaustion just so I wouldn't have to face the fact that I'm sharing a roof with a woman I'm fucking terrified to touch."

"Sunghoon, I—" You let out a hysterical burst of laughter, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. It was clearly a nervous reflex, an attempt to bridge the sudden, terrifying gap of vulnerability between you. "It was a joke! It was just…just girl talk! I was just...my friend was being silly and I was just playing along. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply—"

"I don't care about your apology," he interrupted, his voice thick with a desperate honesty. He stepped further into your space, forcing you to look up at him. "I heard it all. I heard that you think I'm off with some mistress while I'm actually in my office, three doors down from you, trying to figure out how to be half a decent husband to a woman I do not want to lose."

He paced a small circle, his hand raking through his perfectly styled hair until it was a mess. "I failed you. I've lived in this house for so long thinking I was being good man and instead, I've left my wife wondering if she's enough. I didn't know you were a virgin. I didn't know you were waiting."

He stopped and looked at you, his eyes now burning with a mix of shame and agonizing heat. "You want to talk about efficiency? You want to talk about rubbing your clit to get it over with?" He let out a cold self deprecating sound. "I spent in the shower this morning jerking off like a goddamn teenager because I saw you in that green yoga set and I couldn't breathe. I do it every single day, sometimes twice a day. I do it because I'm so goddamn in love with you that I don't know how to function and I thought—I thought if I touched you, I'd break the only peace you had in this marriage."

"You drive me fucking insane, Y/n."

The silence that followed was charged with the sudden collapse of two years months of pretension. Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your whole body.

"And as for your friend's little comment..." his gaze dropped in a way that made your knees go weak. He closed the remaining distance, his large hands coming up to grip your waist, his thumbs hooking into the belt of your robe. "Yes. I am more than strong enough to fuck you mid air. I am strong enough to do anything you want, for as long as you want it. Just...please. Don't think so lowly of me. Don't think I'd ever seek out a substitute for the only woman I've ever truly wanted."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips and now there was only him, trembling with two years worth of suppressed worship, waiting for you to tell him that the fantasies weren't just talk.

You didn't have the words to bridge the gap he'd just torn open, so you did the only thing that felt right, standing up on your tiptoes and looping your arms around his neck to press your lips to his.

It was a clumsy, hesitant kiss, the only other time you'd felt his mouth on yours was that brief peck at the altar when you got married. You didn't know how to move your lips against his or where to put your tongue but the moment you made contact, he let out a deep groan like a man who had been starving and was finally offered a feast.

He didn't wait, sliding his large hands from your waist to your thighs and hiking you up, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and you felt the sheer, solid strength your friend had just joked about. He carried you blindly toward your suite, his mouth never leaving yours, tongue growing hungrier and more authoritative as he realized you were leaning into him.

You shrugged the silk robe off your shoulders, letting it pool on the tile like discarded skin. When your back finally hit the mattress, the sheets were cool compared to the heat radiating of Sunghoon’s body as he loomed over you. He had his weight propped on his forearms with his whole body trembling.

He looked down at you with untamed lust. He reached out with his thumb to trace the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen and red from his kiss.

"I have wanted this every single second since I met you," he confessed in a trembling voice, he was shaking with the effort of holding himself back. He was a man of logic and even now, at the edge of his control, he still needed to be sure. "I am going to be as gentle or as rough as you want but I need you to understand...once I start, I'm not going to want to stop. If you have any doubts—if you want me to wait another year, another hour—you have to say it right now."

He lowered himself just an inch, his nose brushing against yours, the scent of his expensive cologne and masculine heat overwhelming your senses.

"Tell me," he commanded softly, his hand shifting down to rest flat against your stomach, right above the lace of your panties. "Do you want your husband, Y/n? Because I am yours. Every part of me."

He took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, and began a slow tour of his body. He guided your palm over the hard line of his jaw, down the column of his throat where his pulse was thrashing and across the broad expanse of his chest. "Look at me," he pleaded desperately. "Every inch of this, every thought in my head...belongs to you. I've been holding it all for you."

He slid your hand further down, past the ridges of his stomach, until your palm was pressed firmly against the straining length of his cock trapped behind his trousers. You gasped cause the size and heat of him stole the air from your lungs but as you instinctively curled your fingers around him, Sunghoon shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured with a hungry smirk on his lips. "I haven’t even started worshipping you yet. I just want to taste you first."

He moved so gracefully, sliding down the length of your body until he was laid between your knees and with a decisive tug, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs.

The sudden rush of cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, you’d spent so long hiding yourself, playing the role of the composed and dutiful wife, that the reality of Sunghoon staring directly at your most intimate parts made you feel shameful. You immediately tried to clamp your thighs shut with a whimper of shyness escaping you.

"No," Sunghoon rumbled, his large hands clamping onto your knees and forcing them wide. "Don't hide from me. I've spent all this time imagining exactly what you looked like right here."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs, making the fine hairs on your skin stand up. He didn’t just look, though, he reached out and used his thumbs to gently spread your pussy lips apart. The sight of your center so slick and swollen made his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black. He watched in a trance as a fresh wave of wetness gushed out, a clear testament to how much his words had affected you.

"Look how much you want me," he whispered with triumph, not waiting one more minute before swiping his tongue upward in a long stroke that gathered every drop of your sweetness. The sensation was so intense and so direct that your hips jerked off the bed in a violent twitch. You let out a high pitched cry, immediately tangling your fingers in his dark hair as he settled in, his tongue moving with devastating pressure that told you he wasn't going anywhere until he'd tasted every bit of the pleasure he'd been denied.

Sunghoon was entirely too methodical, he was treating your body with the same terrifyingly focused certainty he brought to everything else in his life. He buried his face between your thighs, his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue focused on your leaking hole, he ate you out with a hunger that was almost feral, his tongue flat and firm as it licked long strokes from your opening all the way to your clit.

The sounds filling the room were the wet slapping of his mouth against you mixed with the broken whines you were letting out. He already had you babbling nonsense, your hands gripping his shoulders, then his hair, then the sheets, your head thrashing as he drank you in. You were so sensitive that every flick of his tongue felt like a bolt of electricity, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably and he didn’t seem to care that the mixture of his saliva and your overflowing wetness was now drooling down his chin to his skin, he was being so messy in a way you’d never expected.

He paused for a split second to look up at you through his dark lashes with his face glistening with your slickness. "You're so tight my tongue can’t even go in a little," he rasped. "Can I put a finger in? Just one?"

"Yes—yes, please, Sunghoon," you wailed, suddenly desperate for any kind of fullness.

He still didn't rush it, he took his long middle finger and slowly probed at your entrance with it. You were so wet that he slid in with a soft squelch, the intrusion feeling entirely too massive against your unused walls. You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you felt him stretching you from the inside, he pushed deeper until his knuckles brushed against your folds.

Then, he hooked his finger upward and moment he found that one textured spot on your anterior wall, your entire body stiffened. You bucked against his hand, your hips lifting off the mattress in a frantic search for more pressure. "Mm. It’s there, right?" You couldn’t stop the way you pulsed around his single finger. "Fuck, you’re so responsive."

He started a come hither motion with his finger, while simultaneously lowering his mouth back down to your clit. He was multi tasking with a lethal expertise—his finger hitting that internal spot with every curl while his lips created a vacuum around your sensitive nub.

The combination was too much and before you could help it, you were screaming into the quiet of the mansion, your toes curling as you felt the first tidal wave of an orgasm building in your gut. He sucked harder, his tongue swirling in circles around your clit while his finger stayed hammering and massaging into you until you were nothing but a shaking mess of pleasure. You felt your walls start to contract, milking his finger as you experienced a climax so intense you actually saw spots, your body completely surrendered to the man who had spent your entire marriage so far pretending he didn't want to ruin you just like this.

"Sunghoon, please—don't stop, don't stop!" You were nearly hyperventilating, your voice cracking as you begged him to keep up the relentless pace. The internal pressure from his finger and the tension of his mouth were weaving together into a rush so fervent it was almost painful. "I've never...I've never felt like this, I'm going to—"

You were choking out the words, shocked by how quickly your body had reached its limit. After over two years of nothing but your own careful touch, Sunghoon's extreme competence was hitting you like a freight train. You were on the precipice with your muscles vibrating from the exertion of holding on, when suddenly, a new and terrifying sensation washed over you.

It felt like a build up in your bladder, it was a sudden and very heavy fullness that made you panic. "Sunghoon, wait! Stop, stop!" you gasped, your hands flying to his head to try and pull him away. "I think...I think I'm going to pee. Oh my god, Sunghoon, let go!"

You were absolutely mortified, the woman who prided herself on her perfect composure was about to humiliate herself in front of the man who had just confessed his love for her. You tried to clamp your legs shut, to scramble away from him on the sheets but Sunghoon was an immovable force.

He didn't budge. Instead, he shifted his grip and his large hands locked onto your thighs like iron shackles, pinning you wide open for him. He looked up at you with his face wet and a knowing smirk on his lips. "Don't hold back, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me."

He didn't give you a choice, diving back down and tracing his tongue over your clit with a more violent speed while his finger hooked deep and hard into that spongy spot.

The dam snapped and you let out a strangled sob as you completely lost control of your body. You weren’t just cumming like you did alone in your bed, your pussy erupted like a geyser. A hot gush of fluid sprayed out of you, drenching his face, his lips and even the hands that were holding you open. It felt amazing, like a release so profound it felt like every nerve in your body was being cleansed but the moment the initial wave subsides, horror quickly took over.

You collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing and shaking from how hard he had just made you cum and pure embarrassment, your face buried in your hands. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, the humiliation ruining the afterglow. "I'm so sorry, Sunghoon, I didn't mean to...I ruined it."

Sunghoon didn't look upset or angry, he gently sat back on his heels, wiping a stray drop of your sweetness from his cheek with his thumb before licking it off with a swipe of his tongue. He looked like a feral thing that had just been given exactly what it wanted.

"It’s okay, my love," he cooed, his eyes burning with such a beautiful passion. He crawled back up the bed, pressing over you once more, his scent now unmistakably mixed with yours. "That was you cumming for your husband. And if you think I'm disgusted, you clearly haven't been paying attention to a word I said. I want every single drop of you."

Sunghoon's focus softened, though the heat behind his eyes didn’t faded. He drew closer and you could see his face still shimmering with the evidence of your release. "Do you want to taste yourself?" he whispered against your lips.

You could only nod, your voice lost to the haze of the afterglow and he crashed his mouth against yours, a possessive kiss that tasted of salt and you. It was a physical claim, a bridge between your bodies that shattered the last of your shyness. When he pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, he sounded breathless. "I love you. God, I love you so much. I've been dying in this house for twenty six months."

"I—I love you too, Sunghoon."

He kissed you again, a little more tenderly this time but the friction of his body against yours was a reminder of the unfinished business straining against his clothes.

Boldness, fueled by the euphoria of your climax took over and your hands trembled the moment you reached down, your fingers reaching blindly to the button of his linen pants. You pried it open and when the fabric gave way, you slid your hand beneath the waistband to cup him over his boxers.

Sunghoon let out a hoarse groan, his head snapping back. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away with a look of excruciating containment. "Don't," he forced out, his jaw ticking. "Don't start something you can't finish, my love. If you…If you touch me like that, I'm not going to be able to be gentle."

You looked up at him with your pupils blown wide. "Please fuck me," you whispered, the words feeling heavy and electric on your tongue. "I want my husband to fuck me. Now."

Sunghoon froze a little, a startled laugh breaking from his chest. "I had no idea my little wife was so vulgar," he jested, his eyes dancing with a delighted light. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He moved with a heightened energy, kicking off his pants and discarding his shirt in a matter of seconds. You sat up, your hands reaching for the hem of your silk slip that had been pushed up and pulled it over your head.

As the fabric fell away, leaving you completely bare in the soft light of the bedroom, Sunghoon stopped. He looked at your chest, his stare tracing the swell of your breasts.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word sounding like a raw exhaled prayer. He looked like a man seeing a miracle for the first time. "I truly don’t know how I lasted this long. I must be stronger than I thought. You really are perfect...my beautiful wife."

He crawled back over you, finally pressing the weight of his bare chest into yours. The immense, solid mass of him was consuming in the best way possible. He pinned your wrists above your head, feeling his cock heavy and hot against your thigh. "I really hope I can live up to your fantasies."

Sunghoon's breath was dragging in a way that betrayed his own desperation as soon as he settled between your thighs. He didn't just shove himself in—he was carefully obsessive, even now. He took the blunt head of his weeping cock and dragged it upward, tracing the line of your slit until he was circling your clit with the hardened tip of his length.

He was massive and now that he was pressed against your entrance, you realized he was easily twice as thick as the finger that had just had you screaming, if not thrice. The reality of what was about to happen made your breath come in short bursts and your thighs trembled against his hips.

"You're shaking," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of concern and uncontrollable hunger. He stopped the teasing friction, resting his weight on his forearms as he looked down at you. "Look at me. It...it might hurt a little at first. I'm trying to be careful but you're so damn small."

"I know," you whimpered, nodding as you reached up to grip his biceps. "I know, just...please."

He nodded once, his jaw tightening as he lined himself up with your sopping hole and pushed forward slowly. You felt the initial stretch, the instant sting of your body being forced to accommodate him. It was more painful than you'd imagined, like a searing ache that made you gasp and arch your back off the bed, unintentionally digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders as you clung to him like a lifeline.

"Hmpf, Sunghoon—wait, wait," you cried into his neck, your body instinctively tensing up against the massive intrusion.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, my love." He was so sweet, immediately slowing down his movement and staying right there with his forehead pressed against yours as he rained soft kisses over your eyelids and cheeks. "Just breathe. You have to relax for me. Please let me in, baby."

He waited patiently, even though his own body was shaking with the thought of not just taking what he wanted. He spoke to you in a low, soothing hum, words of praise and love that started to dull the sharp edges of the pain. "You're so tight, baby," he groaned in a pained sound that escaped him cause you couldn’t stop the way your muscles clenched around him. "It's like you're trying to snap my—shit—my cock off. I can barely move, you're squeezing me so hard."

Slowly but surely, the sting faded into something dull. You took a deep breath, consciously trying to sink into the mattress and open up for him. As you relaxed, he felt the shift and inched forward again—just a fraction of an inch at a time. It was a slow conquest and finally with one last, deep thrust of his hips, he bottomed out.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling the weight of him kissing your cervix, filling every possible corner of your body. The ache was gone, overtaken by a staggering sense of fullness that made you feel connected to him in a way that went beyond the physical.

"There," he sounded completely taken apart. He stayed buried deep inside you, his chest panting against yours as he watched your face. "I'm all the way in. How does it feel? Tell me you're okay."

"It's...so big," you trembled, your legs locking around his waist to keep him right where he was. "I feel so full with you."

He let out a sigh of a laugh, his eyes dilating as he realized the hardest part was finally over.

Sunghoon was a man of absolute control but having you pinned beneath him and hearing your body finally accept him was pushing him to his limits. He started with a little grind of his hips, rotating against your sensitive core with a push that forced you to feel every ridged inch of his girth. He was so unhurried, watching the pain melt into a foggy and heavy lidded pleasure.

Once your pained whimpers dissolved into needy moans, the last of his restraint snapped just a little and he reached down to grab your ankle and hook your leg over his broad shoulder, opening you up even further. The new angle allowed him to drive in deeper, his hips snapping forward a little faster than before.

"Sunghoon...oh god, Sunghoon," you moaned, thrashing your head against the sheets, the perfect wife persona you wore stripped away until there was nothing left but your raw honesty. "It's so deep inside me...I love it! I love you—I love your cock so much, it feels so big inside me...please, don't stop."

The utter vulgarity of your praise for him, coming from the woman he thought was untouchable made his pace shatter into something more erratic. He let out a hurt groan, while hitting all the right spots with every wet thrust, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing in the silent room.

"Shut up." The words escaped him in dangerous growl before he leaned down to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't actually want you to stop but the way you were talking, the way you were worshipping him as he took your innocence was making his vision go dark. "If you keep talking like that, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to finish in ten seconds if you don't shut your mouth."

But he didn't slow down. If anything, your words made him meaner and his thrusts turned into deep pounds that had him bottoming out inside you. He was obsessed with the way you were stretching for him, the way your walls were milking him with every sob that fell from your lips. He was no longer the polite or distant husband, he became a man possessed and determined to make sure that the first time you ever felt a man would be a sensation that burned his name into your very soul.

Sunghoon grabbed your other leg and threw it over his shoulder until you were folded practically in half, your hips tilted high and vulnerable. He leaned his full weight down, pinning you into the mattress with his broad chest. In this position, he was able to fuck you even deeper with each thud so wet that it left you struggling to breathe.

He paused for a second, his face inches from yours to kiss you with a messy hunger before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Tell me," he commanded in a way that settled deep in your bones. "Who owns this pussy? Who owns every inch of you?"

"You!" you screamed immediately, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as he gave you fast and punishing thrusts. "You...my husband! Only you, Sunghoon!"

He let out a groan and his pace turned a little depraved. He was slamming into you faster now, his large hands reaching down to squeeze at your breast and pinch your nipples before sliding down to your waist and digging his thumbs into your hips to keep you from moving away.

"And whose cock?" he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he snapped his hips forward again and again until all you could hear was the wetness of your pussy as the fucked into you. "Whose big cock is fucking you right now? Whose length is stretching you out and making you feel this good?"

"Yours!" you sobbed hard, your whole body shaking against the sheets cause another wave of overstimulation crashed over you. "It's yours...Sunghoon's cock! My husband's cock is fucking me so good...please, Sunghoon, more! Fuck me harder! I think I’ll cum like this!"

The sound of your voice, so broken and begging for him was driving him insane but he didn't say another word, he just buried his face in the crook of your neck and fucked his cock imto you with everything he had, intent on leaving his mark on the wife who finally and truly belonged to him.

Sunghoon's breathing had devolved into a series of pointed stutters, his entire body was wound tight with a tension so profound it was as if his muscles might snap. He felt the quivering of your walls, so tight, hot and slick, squeezing around him in a yearning drive that milked him for everything he had, it told him exactly how close you were to cumming again while the wet slide of his girth pushed him closer to a total loss of control.

He pulled your legs even tighter against his shoulders, manhandling you until his chest was crushing yours and his heartbeat thundered against your ribs like a war drum. He looked down at you, his eyes nearly black with a visceral purpose, watching your face crumble into an expression of ecstasy.

"Sunghoon, I'm—I'm gonna—" you almost screamed, dragging your nails down his back and leaving scratches that he doesn't even feel.

"I can feel it, my love," he growled so deep it was practically a snarl. He slowed his pace for a fraction of a second but only so he could drive in with a force that made the entire bed frame groan under his weight. "You're so tight for me. You're perfect."

As the first ripples of your orgasm began to seize your muscles, Sunghoon leaned in until his lips were pressed hard against yours. "Let's have another baby," he nearly pleaded, the thought seemingly ripping out of his soul in the heat of the moment. The man of logic was dead and gone and in his place was a husband so obsessed with the idea of his own legacy growing inside the woman he loved. "Not like last time. No surrogates. I—oh fuck—I want it to be us. I want to see your belly grow because of me...I want to see you pregnant so bad it's driving me mad."

The aching honesty in his voice, combined with the way he was brushing your cervix with every word, sent you over the cliff before you could even realize it was happening. You let out a shattered cry, cumming so hard it was almost violent, your body gripping down on him like a vice with a strength that nearly brought him to his knees.

"Fuck, please," he whined, his control clearly dissolving into a thousand pieces. He didn't pull back or even think about it. He gave one last soul shaking thrust and buried himself to the absolute hilt, letting out a long whine, releasing months of repressed longing and love deep inside you.

He stayed inside you, his heaviness pinning you to the mattress while his forehead rested against yours cause his body wouldn’t stop shuddering with the strength of his orgasm. The room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing and the thudding of his heart as he waited for the tremors in his thighs to subside.

"Mine," he whispered against your swollen lips. "You're finally, finally mine."

When he finally began to move, it was with a gentle slowness—a deliberate retreat that made you whimper at the loss of his incredible size. He moved with a reverence that bordered on worship, careful not to chafe your sensitive walls as he slid out, the dripping sliding sound of his departure echoed in the quiet suite.

When he pulled himself out completely, the physical evidence of his devotion began to overflow. You felt the warm spurt of his cum escaping your pussy, Sunghoon didn't look away, he couldn’t. All he could do was watch satisfied, then he reached out his large hand trembling slightly and used his fingers to sweep the excess cum back toward your opening, his touch alternating between firm pressure and a light, teasing graze that made your nerve endings sizzle.

"Look at what I did to you," he sounded pleased, "Look at how much of me you're holding."

He didn't stop there, now driven by a need that seemed to have only been stirred by the act itself, he shifted lower once more. He knelt between your quivering thighs, dark eyes fixed on your swollen center and without a word of warning, he dived back in, his tongue sweeping over your folds in possessive strokes that gathered every bit of the messy cocktail of your combined fluids.

After the blunt force of his cock, the focus of his tongue again felt like a live wire against your skin. "Hoon, please...I can't," you cried helplessly, your hands tugged on his damp hair as you tried to push him away even as your hips bucked upward to meet him. "I'm too sensitive, I can't take any more—"

"Yes, you can," he growled against your skin, voice muffled by your thighs. He looked up at you, his beautiful face now mask of lust and adoration, totally drenched in the proof of your shared pleasure. "I want to feel it again. Cum on my face again, my love. Come on."

He ignored your half hearted protests and lapped and slurped at your pussy. He used his thumbs to stretch you wide to see more his cum slide out of your pussy, only to lap it up again. He sucked and ate you in with a burning need, his movements so strong it felt like he was trying to pull your very soul through your skin.

The build up was instantaneous and just as violent and it made your vision blur, made the world narrow down to the throb of just your husband’s mouth and the eager command in his voice. You felt that familiar wave climbing in your gut again, the dam of your composure finally and permanently shattered.

"Sunghoon!" you screamed, your fingers digging into his scalp as your body stiffened into a bow for the third time. You sobbed his name in a broken voice as you spiraled into another climax that felt like it would never end. Sunghoon stayed right there, taking in your juices, his eyes closed while he savored the taste of you cumming for him again.

When he was finally satisfied and you lay limp and slightly sobbing against the pillows, Sunghoon crawled back up the bed and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his limbs around you, anchoring you to him. The dutiful wife and the composed husband were gone—there was only the two of you now, tangled together in the wreckage of years of silence, finally whole.

Sunghoon's hold on you tightened, his arms were like a protective weight that seemed resolved to never let an inch of space come between your bodies again. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo mixed with the musk of your joint exertion.

The silence of the mansion, which once felt cold and even cavernous, now felt like a sanctuary—a little private world where the rigid expectations of your families and the careful choreography of your social lives couldn't reach you. "We have a lot of time to make up for," he said to you, pulling back just enough to look at you, rubbing his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. The golden light of the bedroom caught the sharp line of his jaw and the softened, now vulnerable expression in his eyes—a look he had never shown to anyone but you.

nene’s note ── i’ve alwaysssss wanted to try the arranged marriage trope and recently two of my friends got together because of an overheard phone call! could you imagine! y’all know i love feedback! enjoy!💕

taglist i ── @fancypeacepersona @usuallyunlikelyfox @starry-eyed-bimbo @strayy-kidz @mheretoreadff @bloomiize @xoenhalover @mamuljji @gabrielinhaa @ieatwon @rialikesbts @lunacrtk @dulcetnostalgia @lovel1z @kristynaaah @c1eod1n3 @kiikiisblog @plumdove @pqrkjyx @tojiworshipper @loverseon @yazmike @ravenslocked @enhxlvr @mangoescrazy @hees-h0e @stayalittlelonger143 @hazevelyn @sour-chaos @skzenhalove @mochi-mika @simjakersss1009 @isagistar @baedreamverse @jvngw0nlvr @deobitifull @prettygirlthings-world @ravenslocked @ricecakeslove @lenolalalie

[jaylaxies]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, semi public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, makeout sessions, multiple orgasms, jake and you are strangers,usage of nicknames.

WORD COUNT: 4332 words.

SYNOPSIS: A late-night photography session on the low-tide foreshore turns into desperate, half-dressed sex against cold concrete while the iconic blue lights of Tower Bridge glow overhead.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi loves <3 i wanted to write a lil sumn for jake after roaming around the city <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! happy reading <33

The city never truly sleeps, but tonight it feels like it’s holding its breath just for you.

You descend the narrow, slippery old stairs with the quiet thrill of someone who has stolen a secret from the city. Your camera hangs heavy against your chest, still warm from the brilliant success of the evening’s shoot. Now the creative high pulses through you like champagne, pushing you out into the night instead of home to bed. You want to chase more beauty, more feeling, more of whatever this alive, restless version of yourself can find.

The Thames has retreated generously for low tide, exposing a wide, glistening expanse of dark mud and wet shingle beneath the towering silhouette of Tower Bridge. The bridge’s iconic iron arches glow electric blue-white, spilling silver light across the foreshore like spilled moonlight. The air tastes of cool river silt, damp stone, and faint diesel from distant boats. Your shoes sink softly into the mud with a satisfying squelch as you reach the bottom and lift your camera.

You frame the scene slowly, the dramatic curve of the bridge overhead, lights reflecting in shallow puddles, the quiet drama of the exposed riverbed stretching out like a private stage. Your finger hovers, then presses.

Click.

The shutter echoes crisp and clean in the hush, and you adjust your stance, chasing a better angle, and click again.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you,” a warm, lively voice calls from further along the foreshore, “but that looks amazing. Any chance you could take one of me?”

You lower the camera and turn to find the source of the voice—he stood about twenty meters away, the bridge lights catching him beautifully. Fluffy blond hair falls softly over his forehead, slightly tousled by the river breeze, framing a face that feels both boyish and strikingly handsome. His dark eyes sparkle with open curiosity and easy charm, and a genuine, bright grin curves his lips. He’s wearing a simple hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing lean muscle, and his jeans are rolled casually to his calves, already dusted with mud. There’s some sort of effortless vitality about him. 

You can’t help the amused smile that tugs at your mouth, “right now? Standing in the mud under Tower Bridge at—one in the morning?” You asked, checking your watch. 

“Exactly,” he answers, laughing softly as he walks closer. His steps are light despite the sucking mud, and his grin widens, showing a hint of perfect teeth, “what else do you get a secret beach right under one of the most famous bridges in the world? C’mon—I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Make me look cool, or well, at least not completely ridiculous.”

You tilt your head, playful challenge sparking in your voice, “bold of you to assume I won’t make you look ridiculous on purpose.”

He stops a few paces away, eyes crinkling with amusement, “I’ll take the risk. Worst case, I have a hilarious story, the night a talented photographer turned me into a muddy disaster under Tower Bridge. Sounds pretty legendary already, doesn’t it?”

There’s something disarmingly magnetic about the way he says it, there’s no arrogance, just pure, infectious energy. You feel your own spark rising to meet his, the post-shoot glow mixing with the unexpected thrill of this stranger who seems just as alive as you feel tonight.

“Fine,” you say, lifting the camera again with a small laugh, “go on, find a good spot and try not to fall face-first into the silt. I’m not dragging anyone out tonight.”

He flashes you another quick, bright grin and jogs a few steps farther along the foreshore, positioning himself where the bridge’s dramatic lighting hits him from behind. The blue-white glow outlines his shoulders and turns the fluffy golden strands of his hair into something softer, almost glowing. He strikes a playful pose at first—one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket, the other gesturing toward the bridge like he’s presenting it, then glances back at you with mock seriousness.

“How’s this? Heroic enough?”

You shake your head, still smiling as you adjust the focus, “heroic? You look like you’re trying to sell the bridge back to the city, c’mon loosen up a little. Like, maybe pretend the river’s telling you a secret.”

He relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping, head tilting slightly as he turns his gaze out over the dark water. The pose shifts from staged to something more genuine, the lights catching the faint sheen of river mist on his skin, the easy wonder in his expression. He looks effortlessly handsome, caught between the grand bridge and the intimate, uh, mud.

You press the shutter. Click.

The sound feels intimate in the quiet night.

“Better?” He asks, voice carrying that warm, hopeful note as he glances over his shoulder.

“Much better,” you reply, checking the screen quickly. The shot is beyond lovely, the contrast between the glowing architecture and his relaxed presence makes the frame feel alive, almost cinematic, “one more. Turn a little toward the water—yes, like that. Chin up just a touch.”

He follows your direction without hesitation, eyes softening as he looks out across the Thames. The breeze ruffles his hair again, and you capture it, the quiet moment of a young man with city lights painting him in silver and electric blue.

Click.

“Got it,” you say, lowering the camera with a satisfied smile, “you clean up surprisingly well in pictures.”

He turns fully toward you now, that bright grin returning as he walks closer, mud squelching under his trainers. The distance between you shrinks until you can see the faint scatter of freckles across his nose and the way his dark eyes catch the bridge light, “high praise coming from the artist herself. Can I see?”

You hesitate for half a second, then tilt the camera screen toward him. He leans in, close enough that you catch the clean, warm scent of his skin mixed with river air and a hint of something fresh like citrus (and wood?). His shoulder brushes lightly against yours accidentally, but the contact sends an undeniable spark racing across your skin.

“Wow,” he murmurs, genuinely impressed, voice dropping softer, “these are actually incredible. You made me look—I don’t know, like I belong here.”

You shrug lightly, but warmth blooms in your chest at the sincerity in his tone, “the location does half the work.”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours directly. There’s a new spark there now, almost playful and curious, “the photographer makes the difference.”

For a moment the night feels suspended, the distant hum of the city fading as the two of you stand on the glistening foreshore, the bridge watching silently overhead like a witness to whatever this unexpected encounter is quietly becoming.

He straightens, still smiling, but his gaze lingers a beat longer than necessary, “I’m Jake, by the way. And I definitely owe you for the photos, and for not laughing me straight off the riverbank.”

You tilt your head, letting the camera rest against your chest, “you’re welcome. Though I do think I should’ve clicked a silly picture of you.”

He laughs and the sound is warm, “harsh, I thought we were bonding over secret beaches and dramatic lighting.” He gestures with an open hand toward the wide stretch of foreshore ahead, “walk with me? At least until the tide decides to ruin our fun. I promise I’m better company than the mud.”

You hesitate for half a second, then fall into step beside him, your trainers sinking into the damp silt with soft squelches that match his. The exposed riverbed feels vast with the shifting shadows that dance across the wet ground and over both of you.

For a moment, comfortable silence settles, broken only by the gentle lap of the retreating water and the distant hum of a late-night cab crossing the bridge above.

Jake glances sideways at you, dark eyes catching the light, “so, mysterious night photographer, do you always wander down hidden stairs at one in the morning looking for perfect shots, or am I just lucky tonight?”

You shoot him a playful side-eye, lips curving, “I had a really good shoot earlier. Everything clicked for once, just felt—felt too wired to go home, so I figured I’d chase more of that feeling. What about you?”

He shrugs, but there’s a spark of genuine excitement in his expression, “finished a crazy shift at the bar in Borough Market. My mates wanted to keep drinking inside some loud place, but I saw something online about low tide under Tower Bridge and thought—why the hell not? ” He kicks lightly at a shallow puddle, sending a small spray of water glinting in the bridge light.

You nod, surprised by how easily his words settle in your chest, “I get that. Tonight felt like one of those rare nights where everything lines up. Like the city’s finally letting me see it properly.”

Jake’s gaze lingers on you a beat longer than necessary, the corner of his mouth lifting, “lucky city, then.”

The simple compliment lands warmer than it should, sending a faint flutter low in your stomach. You bump his shoulder lightly with yours as you walk, the contact brief but deliberate, “flattery already? We’ve only been walking for two minutes.”

“Guilty,” he admits, grinning wider. His fluffy hair shifts as he turns his head toward you, dark eyes sparkling with mischief, “but hey—it’s not flattery if it’s true. You’ve got this energy, like you’re lit up from the inside. Makes a guy want to keep up.”

You laugh softly, but the air between you feels thicker now, charged. The mud makes every step feel intimate—close enough that your arms brush occasionally, sending small sparks racing across your skin. 

“Careful, Jakey,” you tease, voice lighter than you feel, “keep talking like that and I might start thinking you’re trying to charm your way into more photos.”

Jake slows his steps just enough to face you more directly, the playful glint in his eyes darkening into something hotter, “is it working?”

Your breath catches for a fraction of a second. The bridge lights cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the defined line of his cheekbones. He’s close enough now that you can see the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the hoodie, the way his lips part slightly as he waits for your answer.

You hold his gaze, letting the tension stretch deliciously, “hm, maybe? Depends how good you are at keeping up with water and my terrible jokes.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through the small space between you, “I’m excellent at both. Watch this.”

He crouches suddenly, scooping up a flat stone from the silt, and skips it across a shallow puddle with impressive precision—four clean bounces before it sinks. He straightens, turning to you with a triumphant smirk, “your turn. Loser owes the winner a dare.”

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer until your shoulders nearly touch again, “a dare? that’s bold. What if I win?”

“Then I’ll owe you whatever you want,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make the words feel heavier, his dark eyes flick down to your mouth for a split second before returning to yours, “but I should warn you, I don’t lose easily.”

You crouch, pick up a flat stone, and flick it across the puddle, which grants you five clean skips.

Jake whistles low, clicking his tongue right after, “alright, you win. What’s my dare?”

You let your eyes trail over him slowly before you smirk, “fine, take off your hoodie, and the t-shirt too.”

Jake’s lips curve into a slow, amused smirk. Without hesitation, he pulls the hoodie off, then grips the hem of his black t-shirt and tugs it over his head in one smooth motion.

The bridge lights hit him perfectly. Faint, defined abs flex under smooth skin as he moves, and his arms are veiny, strong lines running from forearms to biceps. His hair is now properly messy, a few strands sticking to his forehead from the breeze. He stands there, shirtless in the cool night air, holding both garments in one hand, looking unfairly good.

“Like this?” He asks, voice dropping lower, a little rougher. He steps closer, mud squelching under his feet, until you can feel the warmth coming off his bare skin.

You lift the camera, pulse quickening, and snap the shot. The lights carve shadows along the cut of his abs and the veins on his arms and hands.

You lower the camera but don’t back away, setting the camera down carefully on a dry patch of concrete ledge beside the piling, out of reach of the mud, before turning back to him, “yeah, you look really fucking good like this.”

Jake’s eyes darken as he leans in, breath warm against your cheek, “keep talking like that,” he murmurs, voice an octave lower, “and the next dare’s gonna be me taking something off you.”

“Yeah? What’s stopping you?” You whisper, and that’s all it takes. 

Jake’s eyes flash with raw hunger. In one smooth motion he closes the last inch between you, veiny hands gripping your waist as he backs you firmly against the cool concrete piling as the rough surface presses into your back while his bare chest burns hot against your front.

“Nothing,” he breathes, voice low and rough, plump lips brushing the corner of your mouth, “absolutely fucking nothing.”

He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, and maybe he is. The way he slots his lips against yours feels almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting like warm cider and pure want. One of his strong, veiny hands cups the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly how he wants while the other slides down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him so you can feel how hard he is getting with each passing second.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, hands sliding up his bare chest, fingers tracing the faint ridges of his abs. When you break for air, your voice comes out breathy and teasing.

“Not fair—you look so good with your t-shirt off.”

Jake chuckles against your lips, “you dared me, remember?” He nips at your bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, “besides, you’re the one who keeps looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”

You smile into the next kiss, letting your hands roam over his warm skin, “maybe I do. You look stupidly hot right now.”

He groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours for a second, breath coming faster, “if you say shit like that and I’m gonna want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, lips brushing his jaw as you speak, “then what are you waiting for?”

Jake’s grip on your hip tightens, and he turns you gently but firmly, pressing your front against the cool concrete piling. His bare chest molds to your back, deliciously warm. One arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, while his other hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your jeans.

“You sure?” He murmurs right against your ear, voice husky but still soft enough to make your stomach flip, “we’re still kind of out in the open here—”

The thrill of it makes you push back against him, “I know—that’s what makes it better.”

He lets out a quiet laugh that sounds half-groan, “fuck, you’re trouble.” His fingers pop the button of your jeans and slowly drag the zipper down, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Instead of answering with words, you reach back and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, “don’t stop.”

Jake hums in approval, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck as he works your jeans and panties down just enough to bare you to the cool night air. He doesn’t take them off completely—they stay tangled around your thighs, keeping things risky and hurried.

“God, you’re already so wet,” he whispers, voice thick with wonder as his fingers slide between your folds. He circles your clit slowly, teasing, then dips lower to push one finger inside you, “feel that? So fucking warm and tight for me already.”

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, hips rocking back against his hand, “Jake—that feels really really good.”

He adds a second finger, curling them just right while his thumb keeps lazy circles on your clit, “yeah? You like my fingers?” He kisses the spot just below your ear, smiling against your skin when you shiver, “you’re making such pretty sounds. Keep going, baby, I like hearing you.”

The praise makes heat pool even hotter between your legs. You reach back blindly, gripping his thigh, “then stop teasing and give me more.”

Jake chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back, “so demanding—I like that.” He nips at your neck, then soothes it with his tongue, “but I want to taste you first.”

Before you can respond, he spins you around gently but firmly, so your back is still pressed to the cool concrete piling. He drops to his knees in the mud right in front of you, looking up with dark, hungry eyes and that same charming grin that started everything, almost like he’s down there to worship you. 

“Lift your leg for me,” he murmurs, voice low and warm as he taps your left thigh. When you hook it over his shoulder, he groans softly in approval, “good girl—just like that.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh first, then another higher up, teasing. When his tongue finally drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, your head falls back against the piling with a shaky breath.

“Fuck, oh fuck—” Jake groans against you, the vibration making your hips twitch, “you taste so good, so fucking sweet.” He licks you again, broader this time, savoring every inch before focusing on your clit with slow, firm circles.

You tug his hair lightly, “Jake—that feels incredible.”

He hums happily, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he sucks gently on your clit, “yeah? You like my mouth on you?” His voice is muffled but still teasing, “keep talking, pretty. We gotta communicate.”

“It feels so good,” you breathe, hips rocking subtly against his face, “don’t stop, please.”

Jake smiles against your pussy, clearly enjoying every second, “not planning on it.” He slides two fingers back inside you, curling them perfectly while his tongue keeps working your clit in steady, relentless strokes. The wet sounds of his mouth mix with your soft moans and the quiet lap of the tide nearby.

Every lick and curl pushes you higher. Your grip tightens in his hair as your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“Jake—I’m getting close,” you gasp, voice breaking a little.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shiny, eyes dark with lust but still sparkling with that playful energy, “already? You’re so sensitive—I love it.” He presses a quick, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, then dives back in, sucking a little harder, fingers pumping faster, “c’mon, baby. Let me feel you cum on my tongue, I want to taste every second of it.”

The combination of his words, his mouth, and the risky thrill of being half-naked under Tower Bridge sends you over the edge hard. Your back arches off the concrete as you reach your high, thighs shaking around his shoulders while you moan his name breathlessly.

Jake doesn’t pull away, in fact, he keeps licking you through every wave, slow and gentle now, drawing it out until you’re whimpering and oversensitive, fingers loosening in his messy hair.

Only when your breathing starts to slow does he rise to his feet, pressing his bare chest against you again. His lips find yours in a deep, slow kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One veiny hand cups your jaw tenderly while the other rests on your hip, thumb stroking soothing circles over your skin.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breath warm and ragged. A small, satisfied smile plays on his lips.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he murmurs, voice husky but soft, “the way you sound, the way you taste, I could do that for hours.”

You’re still catching your breath, legs a little shaky, but you manage a teasing smile as you run your fingers through his hair again, “you’re really good at that—almost too good.”

Jake chuckles quietly, nipping at your bottom lip, “almost? Guess I’ll have to try harder next time.” His hand slides down to squeeze your ass lightly, pulling you closer so you can feel how hard he still is against your thigh, “but right now—I really want to be inside you, if you’re still up for it.”

You smile against his mouth, a little breathless, and rock your hips forward once, teasing him right back, “you’re asking like I haven’t been dying for it since you took your shirt off.”

He lets out a low laugh that turns into a soft groan, “fuck, you’re perfect,” he kisses you again, woring his jeans open just enough simultaneously. His cock is hot and heavy as he presses it against you, sliding the head through your folds.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice husky, “right here, like this.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tilting your hips to chase him, “I want you inside me, now.”

Jake groans softly and pushes in slowly, sinking deep in one smooth thrust until he’s buried to the hilt. Both of you moan at the same time, his low and rough, yours shaky.

“Shit,” he breathes, forehead dropping to your shoulder, “you feel incredible. So warm and tight around me.” He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, lips brushing your neck, “you okay?”

You nod, fingers digging into his bare shoulders, “more than okay.”

He smiles against your skin and starts moving, slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet sound of him sliding in and out mixes with your soft moans and the quiet lap of the tide.

“God, listen to you,” he murmurs, voice warm and a little awed, “you’re so wet. Sounds so pretty when I’m inside you.”

You bite your lip, a moan slipping out as he hits just the right spot, “Jake—harder, please.”

He chuckles softly, the sound turning into a groan when you clench around him, his next thrust is sharper, deeper.

You tug on his hair lightly, “don’t hold back, I want to feel all of you.”

Jake’s eyes darken, “yeah? You want it harder?” He picks up the pace, fucking you with steady, deep thrusts that rock you against the concrete piling. One hand stays on your hip, holding you steady, while the other braces beside your head, “like this? Tell me, go on.”

“So good,” you gasp, legs starting to tremble. 

He leans in and kisses you messily, then rests his forehead against yours so you’re sharing the same breath, “you’re driving me crazy, you know that?” His voice is rough but still playful, eyes locked on yours, “making those sounds, looking at me like that. I’m trying to go slow but you’re making it really hard.”

You smile, a little dazed, and squeeze around him again. Jake groans, hips snapping harder, “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He keeps that perfect rhythm while one hand slips between your bodies to rub slow circles over your clit, ”c’mon, baby. I can feel how close you are, let me feel you cum around me.”

The pressure builds fast. Your nails dig into his shoulders as your thighs start shaking.

“Jake—I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Yeah?” He kisses you again, quick and hungry. “Then cum for me. I want to feel you squeezing my cock. Let go—I’ve got you.”

The orgasm hits you hard. Your back arches against the piling as pleasure floods through you, moaning his name while your walls clench tight around him. Jake groans deeply, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck—that’s it, you feel so good,” he rasps, voice breaking a little, “I’m right there with you.”

With one final deep thrust he buries himself inside you and cums hard, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you close through every wave, breathing ragged against your neck. For a long moment, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and the soft lap of the tide slowly rising around your feet.

Jake presses soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your jaw, then finds your lips again—slow and sweet this time. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, blonde hair a mess and dark eyes soft but still glowing.

“Still with me?” He murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek gently, “that was—insane, in the best way.”

You laugh breathlessly, fingers brushing through his hair, “yeah, definitely insane.”

He smiles, pressing one more gentle kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out. He helps you fix your jeans with careful hands, even as his own stay open and low on his hips. Mud is smeared on both of you, but neither of you really care.

Jake cups your face with both hands and gives you a soft, lingering peck on the lips, then another on the corner of your mouth.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a shy but hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey—uh, can I get your number?” He asks quietly, voice warm, “I’d really like to see you again. Not just for secret river adventures—though those are pretty great too.”

The tide is creeping closer, Tower Bridge still glowing overhead, and the night feels full of possibility.

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[makeitworse]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍.

sunghoon knows you, more than any of your pathetic fans could dream of. he knows the notes of your perfume, the colour of your underwear set, the hotel you’re staying at. above all, sunghoon knows you’re his – and if you don’t know that, well, you’re about to find out. 

✘ pairing: idol f!reader x stalker sunghoon ✘ length: 9k ✘ content: stalking, generally creepy and gross behaviour, unrealistic situations (reader winning the idgaf war), smut with blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex, slight degradation and breeding kink, 18+ mdni

✘ notes: requested by @areumhwang2000! this got way longer than intended and idek how well it turned out but :p ty for sharing and i hope u enjoy mwah

AT LONG LAST, THE CURTAINS HAVE DRAWN. what has been the better part of hours stretched across an entire day has felt like nothing but mere seconds to sunghoon. at long last, he can peel his eyes away from the glimpses of sweet heaven before him without risk of missing anything.

for the first time in hours, sunghoon can blink.

initially, it offers no effect; eyes long past dried out like they’ve been baking under a lamp. sunghoon screws them shut, watches colours explode behind his lids until he can feel tears dotting his lashes from the pressure. 

matter of fact, he hasn’t closed his eyes for so long that he could probably fall asleep within seconds, even in the position he’s in: slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair, sat facing the window of his hotel room as neon lights flicker by. 

for a moment, he considers it. his head throbs with a migraine from how long he’s been forcing his eyes to stay wide open, and there’s no point sitting here now that things have just gotten boring. you’ve just shut him out, like a prude. a tease. suddenly caring after an entire day of paying no mind to your ajar curtains – starting at the ass crack of dawn when you pulled them back to welcome in the sunlight. 

sunghoon accepted that invitation, too.

it’s not like his attention could be anywhere other than the view of your hotel across from his – not until his body physically shuts down from exhaustion in short, pathetic bouts – but he pulled a chair from the sad excuse of a dining table and sat his ass down right in front of his window; where he’s been unmoving, unblinking, as you went about your day since. acting oblivious to the audience you’ve practically begged to flock over to you, just flaunting yourself out there for any old chump to drool over if they were so lucky to look up from the street or out of their window. 

he considered getting toothpicks to keep his eyelids pried open in those instances where his body began to nod off, until he jolted wide awake and freshly energised at the sight of you padding by the window in nothing but a towel. skin glistening, hair damp and running stray beads of water down your shoulders. 

sunghoon ran his tongue over his teeth – oh, how he wished he could lick up every last droplet from your body, suck your hair into his mouth and taste the strawberry shampoo you so famously use. 

your teasing didn’t stop there. you made it a point to keep walking by that window, just throwing yourself at sunghoon as you showed off your new matching lace underwear, then returned in a skimpy pajama set. 

who walks by one window that many fucking times as they’re getting dressed? you have to be doing it on purpose. god, you’re such a damn….flirt. 

he’s not complaining though. of course not! the fleeting sight of you each time, just innocently trotting along by the window, was enough to pull a good few orgasms out of him; even with his aching joints in this stiff fucking chair.

he’s scarcely left his room at all, which is only due to the fact that he’s mirroring you. you’ve been isolating for days on end ever since wrapping up the tour stop in this city. there was a deliberate few days separating this concert from the next one to give you some time to sightsee, make the most of a break here and take a breather from your schedules – yet you’ve done nothing but remain holed up in that hotel room ever since performing for thousands on stage.

it’s like you know it’s ‘cause he’s watching, isn’t it?

sunghoon paid good fucking money for this view. jake thought he was being smart, snagging a room only a few doors down on your floor. thought he could hear you through the walls, maybe coincidentally bump into you each time you leave. except, you haven’t left once – only room service or your staff visiting to deliver food, offer company. jake isn’t getting shit for what he dropped a whole paycheck on, and yet you’re over here prancing around half-naked for sunghoon’s eyes to feast on. 

sunghoon heaves a sigh, stretching his arms out above his head until the joints pop. aches throb in his forearms, the muscles exhausted from when he was jerking off and having back to back orgasms just staring at the view of your empty hotel room. 

it’s been good fun with you, but the time’s come for you to actually leave. tomorrow morning is your flight to the next city. you’ll be forced to go outside – much like sunghoon, as he’s forced to follow you.

he’s been neglecting his own body in favour of catching any sight of yours through the window. the last time he took care of his health was with the sole purpose of attending your concert here. 

he’ll need to present himself as a real person again. take an actual shower and wash his hair. shave the stubble off his face, maybe even tweeze his eyebrows. he wants to look good for you when you see him. because you will – as you have before. 

waving at him in the stands, blowing him a kiss at barricade, smiling at him like an old friend at the send off. each memory more cherished than the last – each instance the red string of fate grows tauter between you. 

of course, the crowd is all thinking the same thing. he’s aware of that, he’s not stupid. 

but they’re not him. they don’t know you like he does. 

can any of your other fans name the brand of perfume you spritzed on after your shower this morning? (gucci flora, naughty girl… you have a brand deal with dior!) can they count the amount of underwear sets you folded into your suitcase? (5, all pastels. you must wash them at each stop.) can any of those pathetic, delusional bottom feeders say with confidence that you opened your curtains to let them in?

yeah. 

he didn’t think so. 

—

sunghoon hates the airport. almost as much as he hates camping outside of the concert venues. everyone here is in a rush and shoving and breathing down each other’s necks. he’s been here since the early morning to secure a nice, clear view when you arrive, but he’s gradually been shoved to third from the front in the crowd that’s gathered. god, some people have no manners these days. whatever happened to fandom etiquette? they’re all here for the same person – you – but it’s like every man for himself. 

“ay, wait,” jake nudges him from the side, tilting his phone to sunghoon. “she’s just about to arrive.”

sunghoon narrows his eyes at the screen, scanning over the text messages before jake shuts it off with a mutter to mind his damn business. but sunghoon already recognised the contact name. it was your make-up artist – he’s bought bits of information off of her in the past. never got his money’s worth though, she’s really vague with promises to reveal more if you spend more. sunghoon doesn’t waste his time with that scam shit. jake being privy to live updates of your location though?

“how do you get so much out of her? she’d never tell me anything good.” sunghoon asks, tone bored as if he’s not seething with jealousy right now. 

jake pokes his tongue out, flashes suggestive eyes while giggling to himself. sunghoon nearly gags. sleeping with your staff while he claims to want you? no fucking shame… 

there’s a roar of commotion at the front, and sunghoon stands on his tip-toes for a clear view as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. someone pushes him from behind, cussing him out for being too fucking tall, but sunghoon can’t hear anything other than ringing in his ears as he recognises all your staff and security filing out through the doors. and then, there you are: just as pretty as when he last saw you through the hotel window.

sunghoon’s momentarily lifted off his feet as the crowd rippled, following after your crew while you wave and bow to all the fans gathered here in your name. sunghoon keeps losing his balance, losing sight of you as he’s pushed from all angles. people get barbaric in your presence. 

some (stupid) few from the front divert, rushing up to your staff and earning a hard shove to the ground by your security. they’re not all that competent though – a taller fan, one sunghoon recalls as riki that he camped with at your osaka concert, is able to shoulder his way through your stylists and grab your arm. he’s wrangled away by security within the next second, but the damage was done – they can actually get to you. so, they try. 

the airport erupts into a frenzy. the mob of fans sprint at your crew, hands gripping and legs stretching to get in between your security, while they struggle to keep the overwhelming number of them at bay. jake pats sunghoon’s arm before he himself sets off, waiting behind the more forward fans and watching for an opening in your guard. 

a thought forms in sunghoon’s head. he takes out the black mask tucked into his pocket and slings it around his ears, then pulls his cap down low, covering his face. he, too, watches for an opening – but he doesn’t make himself a known threat. he stands back, smiles under his mask when a fight breaks out between the fans. idiots. the horde could easily overpower the common enemy of security, if only they weren’t throwing punches at the competition beside themselves. 

sunghoon pivots the instant his chance appears. a split second decision, he’s flying on his feet to his mark – your staff parted and separated just perfectly enough that he flies under the radar when he steps between them, instantly playing the part as he shoves at the other fans he was just standing beside. he recognises someone he traded insider info with for an exclusive signed photocard of you, someone else who gave sunghoon water when he had heatstroke camping outside of your manila venue. 

and then there’s jake. jake’s eyes widen, shouting something that sunghoon can’t quite catch – not when he launched jake at the wall without a second thought after he appeared in front of him. when a security guard glances at sunghoon, hands too full to think to get a good look at him, he just turns his attention to another frenzied fan. sunghoon’s mouth twitches into a grin under the mask. he’s successfully disguised himself in the role as just another terrified staff member. 

holy shit. he’s thought about doing this before, but never once considered it’d even work. he’s on top of the fucking world right now. this was meant to be!

sunghoon acts like he’s giving an appreciative bow to the guard for protecting him, then backs himself further into the crew, body jostling as they all struggle to shuffle forward – fans still pressing relentlessly in from the outside and blocking the way through. 

he wedges his way through your frantic staff until he catches sight of your hair from behind, the heavens from above parting the clouds and casting a halo of light down on you. sunghoon holds his phone up to his ear before he taps your back, and you flinch at the sudden touch, panicked pretty eyes glancing over your shoulder. 

he covers the phone’s speaker – acting as if he’s on a call – before he strains to shout over the commotion: “miss, i’ll lead you out of here! i’ve just called the airport security, they’re coming to help,”

“but where?” you shout back, perfect brows pinched and perfect lips pouted in worry. he notices the way your eyes flit all over what little of his face isn’t concealed, straining to recognise him, remember a name or a position or anything. he’s this close, this familiar with you – how do you know him again? you’re so cute, futilely trying to figure him out. 

“there’s a private lounge down that hall,” sunghoon points, and your glossy eyes follow. “they told us to wait there until this crowd is dispersed. it’s too out of control to stay here.”

you nod, quick to believe but not as quick to trust. you know that you know him, but you still don’t know where you recognise him, and it’s prickling at you. 

sunghoon says some muffled bullshit through his mask into the phone speaker, then pretends to hang up the phone call. he gives you a quick nod of assurance, offering his hand.

you take it and his skin is on fire. 

sunghoon looks around him frantically, acting like he’s trying to speak with any of the guards but they’re too busy to notice him. he sighs theatrically, yelling at the ear of one that he’s taking you to another room. uncaring if the useless fuck even heard, sunghoon’s already pivoting with you in tow – beelining to the private guest’s lounge (looking up the airport’s map last night came in handy), fingers taut around your wrist like a noose. 

you both rush up to the desk receptionist, who instantly recognises you and starts bumbling through her practiced greeting. you’re too frazzled to reply, so sunghoon does the talking – playing further into his little disguise. 

he’s not really acting when he’s too out of breath to say his words properly, just huffing excuses and puffing lies, hoping it forms a believable sentence that a real staff member would say. the noise from the ongoing chaos outside feeds through the automatic glass door, and so the receptionist doesn’t even let sunghoon finish his bullshit before she’s nodding and leading them into the extra private vip room of the already private lounge. 

you step in first, sunghoon on your heel. the receptionist starts saying some jargon about if you needed any more help but sunghoon’s already shutting the door in her face. the lock clicks, and your head whips to level him with a confused glance. 

sunghoon grabs a nearby chair and pulls it up to the knob, barring the door. you watch with bated breath as he rotates back to face you – tugging off his mask and cap, grinning maniacally. 

he’s thought about this more times than he can count. he’s dreamed of this exact scenario, ending in a slightly different yet drastic way each time. 

he braces for you to scream for help, to cry for mercy, to curse at him or run away from him. you might put up a fight, or you might just surrender. they’re his favourite fantasies, the one that enters his mind most often when he’s fisting his cock with your face pulled up on his phone. 

but you don’t do anything of the sort. you don’t do anything he was prepared for, anything that he’s imagined countless of times before. 

“sunghoon, right?” you say, recognition bright in your eyes as you point at him as if unexpectedly running into a friend. 

he freezes like an idiot. 

“how have you been?” you purr, sitting on the room’s couch. you make yourself comfortable when you lean back, cross your legs. the picture of a worry-free woman. how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?

how do you know his name?!

“you remember me..?” is all he can croak, shifting stupidly in his spot with a thousand yard stare. 

“of course i remember a familiar face,” you simply smile. “i still have the little crocheted penguin you gifted me at the houston send-off. i keep it on my shelf. it’s adorable.”

that catapults sunghoon’s heart over the fucking moon. do you understand how fucking long that tiny thing took him to learn how to make, and then actually make it? the fact that you still have it is something else entirely, but knowing the exact send-off too? because sunghoon doesn’t miss a single one. 

he doesn’t always get barricade, nor does he always get an interaction in with you, but he’s always there at your concerts. he’d rather die than skip showing up for his girl. every stop around the globe, he’s followed you. even when you’re not performing – attending events as a brand ambassador, going on vacations that aren’t on your public schedule. he’s easily dropped multiple zeros in dollars on paying off your sleazy staff members to forfeit insider information or set aside the vip tickets. 

it’s how he knows you’re a single girl, too. have been for quite a while. 

“so how have you been?” you ask him, smiling too fondly for someone who’s essentially his hostage. maybe all the time he spent meticulously doing skincare and waxing his face paid off – the stockholm syndrome affecting you in real time because he’s that hot. 

“oh– well, i don’t do much.” he replies without thinking. stupid, fucking stupid piece of shit. you probably think he’s such a boring loser. scrambling for something to impress you, he adds: “i’ve been spending a lot of money on a certain special someone.” 

sunghoon grins, intentionally popping the dimples from his cheeks so he looks like less of a threat. 

“is that so?” you ask, arching your back as you sit upright. his eyes track the movement, entranced. you’re flirting. “she must be a very lucky girl.”

sunghoon waves it off, like it’s nothing. because it is. you’ve consumed his life – there is no him without you. your music is what pulled him from the murky pits of water in his own head. instead of letting the waves drag him under, you made him want to tread above the surface and stay breathing. just so he could watch your career grow, your dreams come true. you saved his life and so he owes it to you. this is how he leads a fulfilling existence; following after you is how he breathes. 

“just want to make her happy. see her smile. be the reason she keeps making music, keeps living her dream.” sunghoon murmurs, taking space with each word, stepping until he’s towering before you. “are you? is it everything that you dreamed of?”

there’s a flicker across your face of something that he catches, but can’t quite place. before he can even interpret it, you’re smiling again like the sparkle in your eyes never left, shrugging one shoulder. 

“not in certain moments. but when i’m performing, that’s where i’m really living.” 

sunghoon’s hands twitch at his sides, wishing so desperately to reach out for you, to hold you for comfort or to shake you around until you cry, to throw you down and demand what he wants. he doesn’t know. he just needs to prove that he can affect you a sliver of the amount that you affect him. you’re not even scared right now. do you even care that he’s here? would you even react if security barged down the door and shot him in the head? 

there’s an endless list worth of questions he’s wanted to ask you before he dies – industry gossip, your deepest secrets that not even staff know, future releases, specific questions about you that are just to satiate his own greed to know every corner of your being – but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it. he just blurts–

“do you think i won’t hurt you?”

sunghoon’s quite used to the feeling of keeping his eyes open as wide as possible, and he does so that he can take in every little flinch of your face. any reaction that passes across your features, no matter how miniscule. anything for him to interpret – to know if this is all an elaborate act, that you’re actually shaken to your core in fear of the man before you. but– 

nothing. nothing. nothing. 

he holds his eyes open so he doesn’t miss anything, but you do the same right back at him. you don’t blink either, so your faces just stare back at one another, expressionless and carved from stone. he locked you in here with him, he should be the one demanding all the cooperation – and yet all the power is in your hands. he doesn’t understand. 

“will you?” you ask, unphased.

he could, he thinks. he’d leave a mark at least – proof he was here, he got this close. he’d be hailed as some sort of messiah among your most devoted fans. 

but he doesn’t want to. he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, heat flaring behind his nose the only warning before guilty tears nearly dot his lashes. he shuts his eyes hard enough, quick enough that they don’t water. 

you shift in your seat, seeming intrigued. 

“no?” you ask him, and he nods in tiny again. you smile. “no. i didn’t think you were that type of person.” 

sunghoon’s breath rattles out from his throat. you shift forward, your hands reaching up to hover by his legs. you stare at him through your lashes, and his cock stands to attention just at the sight of you so close. regardless of if you’re even asking – he nods. 

your palms gently plant on either side of his thighs, and so much electricity courses through sunghoon’s blood that he’s almost worried he’ll zap and kill you. 

“i don’t know if i’ve ever told you before, but.. you’re really handsome, sunghoon.” 

his adam’s apple bobs almost painfully in a harsh gulp. it does nothing to relieve his cotton mouth. 

“you’re gorgeous.” he chokes out. “so much. perfect.” he’s just murmuring nonsense, brain turning to complete mush at the feel of your hands sliding over his pants. 

you sigh softly. “i feel so grateful, to be loved by you.” 

your hands glide to his front, his cock twitching as the heat of your fingertips graze closer. your thumbs brush at his hipbone, lingering at the band of his pants. 

“let me?” you whisper. so quietly, he thinks he must’ve hallucinated it. 

but he blinks, once and again, and he knows that the way you’re looking at him is real – because his brain could’ve never conjured it. 

you’re so fucking pretty. licking your lips, looking at him through eager eyes. fuck, you’re asking him to let you? even if you didn’t have his word, you could do whatever the fuck you want to him and he’d just take it like the grateful man he is. 

realising he’s making you wait, sunghoon chokes on his answer – his own hands fumbling to unbutton the pants for you. shaky fingers drag his zipper down, ripping the flyer open enough to reveal a glimpse of the prominent bulge in his boxers underneath. 

you follow his lead, flashing a smile that melts his entire being as your fingers find his waistband. you tug gently, and he winces as his length pulls with the movement. he only hopes that you don’t mention the massive stain of pre already there. the front of his pants have been growing tighter with each minute since he locked you in this room. 

slowly, you pull the fabric down until his cock bobs free, flushed red and leaking like a faucet. you blink at its size, wetting your lips again as your fingers reach out to wrap around the base. sunghoon just manages to stifle the sob of relief that nearly left his chest. 

he can’t help how his greedy pelvis bucks forward slightly, and is just as quick to cuss himself out for being so selfish. you make a small hum before leaning in, tapping your lips to the tip. so fucking soft..

you stretch your mouth around him, swallowing his whole length down until you meet your own fingers. sunghoon’s shaking above you, not even registering the embarrassing noises leaving his mouth from the pure ecstasy. you’re so hot and wet around him, tongue so perfectly tracing the vein on the underside of his length. 

you reverse the movement, pulling back and sucking as you go. sunghoon can’t even form a coherent thought, hands trembling at his sides when he should really reach out and pinch to check if you’re real. though the way your mouth seals tight around him feels real enough, the way your tongue swirls his head and laves at the slit. 

overwhelming pleasure seizes his body as you begin to bob your head, stars exploding from the inside out – and sunghoon blacks out. 

by the time he comes back to, he doesn’t immediately realise what happened. it’s not until he winces at the near painful sensitivity in his cock – glancing down as your glossy lips pop off his length, the sharp sensation sending goosebumps racing across his flesh. 

you grin intentionally at him, opening your mouth to show the mess coating your tongue. it’s only then that sunghoon realises he even came. 

prematurely. like a fucking virgin. 

you making a show of swallowing it, throat bobbing as the taste of him slides down. his cock twitches at the sight. 

sunghoon gathers his bearings, runs a hand through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. there’s a laundry list of things he would (and could) kill to do to you. every scenario he’s imagined, every position he’s daydreamed. his mind overloads with all the possibilities, causing his body to blank and still – while you’re still just there, waiting for him.

he shakes his head, settling on the decision that he’ll drop to his knees and return the favour. taste your slick between his teeth, unravel you on his tongue and feel you around his fingers. he almost drools just picturing it. 

BANG. BANG. 

sunghoon leaps from his skin at the sudden noise, whipping his head to the door and watching it shake in its frame, the knob wiggling. there’s overlapping voices on the other side yelling out your name, but you don’t seem the least bit rattled. 

you take it upon yourself to tuck sunghoon back into his pants, zipping it shut and giving his thigh a little pat – as if to reassure him. his heart would swell with affection, if only it wasn’t completely gripped with fear. 

“no need to worry!” you call out to the concerned shouts, then flash sunghoon an apologetic glance. “sorry about all that, excuse me.”

you cross the room to the door casually, as if you’re just letting in some guests to your home. you move the chair to the side, flick the lock and step back expectantly – the door flying open and slamming into the wall from the force. 

staff swarm you and fuss about, forming a protective blockade around you. that annoying receptionist appears at the door, pointing at sunghoon with a glare – then your security is quick to follow and hone in on him. sunghoon braces himself to sprint, to fight if he must, but you intervene; calling out to the guards and shooing them away from him like flies. 

“yes, yes. i’m alright.” you brush off your dress, throwing sunghoon a deliberate smile over your shoulder. “just catching up with a friend.”

not one of your crew buy that for one second, but without any signs of a visible struggle (and your own word), sunghoon knows that they can’t put a single finger on him. he smirks to himself, the power surge pumping hot in his veins. 

your crew are about to usher you back outside – sunghoon picking up scattered murmurs, one of which being that a few fans were arrested – but the circle halts with you as you spin on your heel, weaving through your staff and standing in front of sunghoon like everyone in this room isn’t watching. 

his heart beats like a rabid hare thumping its foot, head light and airy from the adrenaline. 

you reach for his fingers, lacing them with yours gently, and sunghoon catches your staff bracing themselves behind. you pay them no mind. 

“i’ll see you in sydney?” you smile. not one of your practiced or artificial ones – genuine. a bright ray of light to warm him and only him. 

sunghoon melts. he nods, pulse frenzied under the swipe of your thumb on his wrist. like hell he wouldn’t be there.

your smile splits even wider into your cheeks, eyes sparkling. 

“it’s a date then.”

—

following his impulsive stunt at the airport, sunghoon only narrowly avoided arrest, which he suspects is because of your own interference. he’s still able to catch the flight directly after yours and follow you en route to australia. 

which– well, you came onto him, so what law was really broken on his part? none that seemed to bother you too much, seeing as you were more than happy to shove his cock in your mouth.

sunghoon hasn’t washed since. he doesn’t want to scrub off the traces of your saliva, doesn’t want to smother your touch with his own; knowing it couldn’t begin to compare. he could almost cry from the pain of his boners when replaying the memory, but he refuses to relieve it himself. 

riding on that extreme high, sunghoon has the confidence to text your number. he bought it from some staff members ages ago but couldn’t find the words to strike up a conversation, one that’d catch your eye among all the other fans choking up your private messages. 

typing out and backspacing for what might’ve been hours, sunghoon settles on literally just stating his name and a simple hello. 

he doesn’t think he needs any more than that, really. you already remembered his face, name, the penguin he crocheted – and sucked him off – so you’re well acquainted at this point. 

he may as well just ask you out, right? he knows for a fact that you’re not exactly handing out blowjobs like candy for fans. you have self-respect, you’re a romantic at heart. you wouldn’t just.. throw yourself at anyone, not if it didn’t mean something. right? 

he’s known you’re the one for him, only one all these years – and it seems just getting you in a room alone is how it clicked for you, too. 

strung along by red twine, dancing around your fate at concerts and events – then pulled as if on a leash, until you were on your knees and wrapping your mouth around him. 

sunghoon stuffs his face in his hands as it burns red, rolling around in the hotel bed and giggling to himself. fuck, what a slowburn. such a damn tease. you like the chase, huh? you like seeing him lose his fucking mind, pining after you? 

at the sudden ding of his phone, he rises upright in bed like a vampire and swipes the device from his side table – heart palpitations revving up like a harley as he reads your name in the notification. 

you actually answered. 

not a question on how he got your number, or why he locked you in that room, or what he even wants from you. you happily greet him right back. ask about his flight, if he’s settled in alright. 

and then you just… talk. like real people do. 

naturally, he’s got access to your schedule, so he knows how impossibly busy you’ll be within the day, every hour accounted for leading up to the concert. but you still find time to text him back, to engage in conversation and inquire about how he’s doing like the absolute sweetheart you are. you get to know him, really know him, outside of just the devilishly handsome guy who’s made your music his entire personality. you don’t talk a whole lot about yourself – but all of it goes without saying. sunghoon already knows everything there is to know about you except for what goes on in your actual brain.

you seem.. bored, almost. like he’s the most interesting thing you’ve got going on, as a world famous popstar. conversations turning dull when he asks about your life off the clock – but you’ll light right up when you’re talking about him. asking about his hobbies and his schooling and his parents.

each word sunghoon trades with you feels like he’s boiling alive and then dipped in ice water. it’s startling how it all feels so natural, flowing and blooming into something genuine. sunghoon would have you in any way he’d be lucky enough to get – as in sick with fear or scathing with hatred – but he’s not equipped to understanding what it actually is. you’re giving him your time because you get along, and you think he’s hot and you laugh at his jokes. 

you never mention how he’s followed you across the globe, how he’s always there as an audience when you’re performing or when you’re not even working. but, then again, you also might not even care. considering you’re still chatting him up over text despite it all when you could’ve just.. let the authorities deal with him. 

the day of your concert, sunghoon arrives to camp outside of the stadium before the sun’s even up. he’s joined by some familiar faces (jake among them, who flips him off and doesn’t acknowledge him again) while waiting through the sweltering southern heat, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for you to text him back in fleeting increments throughout the day. 

he never doubted it, but sunghoon’s amazed by how he keeps falling even deeper in love with you. it’s like you couldn’t give less of a fuck about who he is and what he does – about who you are and why you shouldn’t even be allowing him space in your life. 

but circumstances can be damned where fate is concerned. 

in the end, it’s you and him. 

it’s like heaven’s gates parting when the crowd’s finally allowed inside the venue, sunghoon rushing in for his rightful spot at the barricade. time crawls by painstakingly slow, bodies packed in like sardines and overlapping voices like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. the hours are punctuated with a reply or two from you, and the bliss is enough to get him through the wait. right up until you text him that you’re nervous, he wishes you good luck, and within the next minute you’re raised up onto the stage via platform for the soundcheck. 

your eyes find sunghoon in an instant. you trade big, cheesy grins like two puppies in love – confused whispers and jealous glares rolling through the crowd. 

you go about performing as usual, singing an interesting choice of tracks, on the spicier side of your discography. you even make it a point to dance a little for him, standing on the edge of the stage to give him an upskirt view – even checking if he’s looking with a cheeky smile. his cock throbs where it’s pressed into the railing, the cold metal ineffective in deterring it. god, he’s fucking crazy about you. 

when the soundcheck comes to a torturous end, you throw sunghoon a wink, holding his heated stare as you disappear below the stage. 

well. after all that he thinks he needs a good fucking wank. 

he’s so dazed in his own little world, sunghoon doesn’t even register the crowd parting behind him – not until he’s being grabbed on the shoulder, a gruff male voice low in his ear. 

a security guard roughly spins him around, leading him out of the pit, his beloved barricade spot being filled within the next second. sunghoon can’t even bring himself to feel pissed off at the loss of his view or at the smug grins of jealous motherfuckers in the crowd – not when his heart sinks below his feet and his mind spins at a mile a minute as the guard pushes him through various dark corners and empty corridors. 

did it all catch up to him? were you really fooling him? this is it, isn’t it? you were just building a case against him. you didn’t actually like him. 

pfft, who was he kidding? you’ve got the evidence ready, the police are actively waiting outside to take him away in cuffs. oh fuck he’s so stupid. he’s so fucking stupid. this is what he gets for giving his heart to a woman, a celebrity at that. you’d never want him. there’s no way he’s the first fan you’ve done this with. he’s just a placeholder. you think you’re too good for him. you–

“sunghoon!” 

the sound of your voice slices through his racing thoughts. the sight of your face hits him like an arrow to the chest, his thumper heart threatening to leap from his ribs. 

you coo out something to him he can’t quite catch over the ringing in his ears – followed by a flick of your wrist to direct the security guard back out the door they came from. 

you’re still dressed in the soundcheck outfit, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes your skin appear as if glowing, cloying in the air with a faint perfume. he thinks you’ve never looked prettier like this, out of breath and clammy; perceiving you without the filter of that perfectly curated idol image. 

you set down an empty bottle of water before pacing over, stopping just before him. barely one step and he could close this distance. is that what you want?

“hey,” you get his attention, regarding him with such a soft smile that he nearly drops to his knees right then. “how was it?” 

“good–” he answers plainly before stepping to you, leaving no time to react before both of his hands are swallowing either side of your waist. your breath hitches as he tugs you in, pressing himself flush against your front. “–you do this type of fan service often?” he grits out, locking much harsher words behind his teeth. 

“what?” you stare cluelessly with big lost eyes, gasping when his fingers dig in until his nails sting your flesh. 

“i can’t be the only one, right? fuck, i’m so dumb.” he chuckles bitterly to himself. “you trying to get more money out of me? or is this some kind of sick fun to you?” sunghoon shakes you in his arms, riling himself up more by the second. “huh? you enjoy leading your fans on?? tell me honestly please, don’t treat me like an idiot any more.”

“no.” you say, so firmly that it actually takes him aback. “i’d be in more trouble than you if anyone–”

sunghoon laughs, laughs at how absurd this situation is. how he’s wished and prayed for a chance to have you this close and now all he can feel is rage. his hand flies up to your hair, tugging your head back – the startled noise you let out going straight to his stiffening cock. 

“you’re a slut, then? you let your fans use you so they keep coming back?” he pouts dramatically at you, before bearing his canines in a grin. “or are you hoping that we’ll leave you alone?”

the slope of your neck bobs with a gulp, his eyes tracking the movement. “i let you, because i like you.”

you watch his eyes flit rapidly over your face, searching desperately for any sign that you’re lying, playing him like a fool again. 

“bet you tell them all that.” he huffs, not buying it for a second. “bet they all fall for it too.”

“there is no–” you scrunch your face when his fist curls tighter in your hair, letting out a noise that sounds nothing like frustration or fear. he could almost think that you’re.. 

“hoon.” you say sternly, the nickname catching him off-guard. his heart would almost swell over it if he wasn’t so close to ripping your fucking hair out in jealousy. “there is nobody else. i’ve been texting you because i want to. i asked my guard to bring you here so i could see you. god, i blew you at an airport! i’ve never even..”

you sigh, exasperated, and the pieces finally slide into place for sunghoon. they click slowly, even reluctantly, since the circumstances really are this hard to believe. 

“you mean it?..” he mutters, fingers loosening in your strands. 

“yes, of course i do.” testing the waters, your palms run up his chest to hold his cheeks with a featherlight touch, and sunghoon melts into it. “i see you all the time, and i’ve always wanted to get to know you more. but what could i do? nothing from my position.”

you want love, just like him. you want him, just like he wants you. 

you don’t care about his intentions when he dragged you from your staff and locked you in a room. you don’t even care that he followed you all the way here from korea. you don’t give a single shit that he pays off your staff to provide him enough private info to warrant a lawsuit. 

“you want me?” 

“of course i do.” you echo, thumbs brushing tenderly across the pale of his cheek. 

he licks his lips, anticipation and something more sinister bubbling in his blood, heating up his body. “say it.” 

“i want you.” 

sunghoon nearly moans hearing it from your mouth, his cock filling out his pants eagerly. he gives another tug on your hair, and his suspicions are confirmed when you whine. you like the pain. or do you just like being treated this way?

“do you now?” he says nearly mockingly, swiping his thumb across the plush of your lip to contrast the sting. you respond keenly: lips sealing around his thumb, dabbing your tongue on the skin. sunghoon curses lowly, breath growing heavier, and when you start to suck he has to pull away.  

only to replace his hand with his mouth as he captures yours in a kiss. there’s no patience in it – one second in and already he needs more, tilting your head by the hair as he shoves his tongue in. licking against yours roughly, palate filling with your saliva, cock twitching as he tastes every corner of your mouth. 

you ball fists in his shirt, whimpering quietly at how harshly he’s kissing you, how he’ll slightly pull your hair like a reminder. you just take it, better yet – you give back. you slide your tongue with his, rolling your hips into his body and earning a bite on your lower lip. you whine from the shock and sunghoon parts with you, tutting. 

“you trying to piss me off?” he huffs out, stilling you by the waist with his free hand. you’re treading a fine fucking line of his self-control right now. if you’re not careful, he might really lose it. and he doesn’t want to hurt you – unless you want that. fuck. his cock pulses just considering it, and of course you felt it, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

“do your worst.” you tell him, intentionally bucking your pelvis forward to rub against his boner. he feels the heat of you even through the fabric, and sunghoon heaves a gasp, every nerve in his body screaming to throw you to the ground and just take you. 

there comes that fucking nickname again, “hoon”, needily whined against his earlobe – and you could hear a pin drop in the brief silence that follows, before his lips are smothering yours so desperately that his teeth scrape your gums, hands gripping impossibly tighter as he backs you into the closest wall. 

sunghoon nearly shoves your body against it, kindness forgotten with his brain tuned into one sole purpose. he kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, palm trailing down the side of your body, stopping only to grope your breast here or squeeze your curves there. if he wasn’t so fired up, he’d take his time with you. kiss every inch of your body and draw out the pleasure. his cock is begging him for otherwise though. 

he reaches a hand under this fucking skirt that’s burned into the deepest pit of his memories – and you moan in tandem when sunghoon’s fingers press into your panties, the fabric dipping where it’s soaked in your arousal. he has to remind himself to breathe as he runs his fingertips over the thin cotton, feeling each ridge from how it’s stuck to your cunt in arousal. 

he slides a finger past the soiled fabric, dipping into the hot arousal pooled at your hole. his length pulses where it’s pressed into the meat of your thigh. sucking in a breath, sunghoon trudges past his own need as he gathers your slick on his index and middle, dragging the fingers up your folds. you shiver when he grazes your clit, melting into the prettiest whine as his fingers draws digit eights on the bundle of nerves. 

with his hand focused on your clit, sunghoon busies his mouth when he latches it to your neck, smirk pressed into your skin with how you throb under his fingers in response. sunghoon runs his tongue over the juncture between your neck and shoulder, littering the skin with nips of his teeth and sucks of his mouth – leaving the mark of his presence in hickeys and bites. he laves at the salty sheen of sweat coating your body, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tastes you in yet another way. 

on that thought, he rotates his hand; thumb replacing the fingers on your clit with firm swipes, his index and middle breaching past your hole and curling up to make you see stars. 

you’re unintelligible as he fucks you on his fingers, head lolled back into the wall as he ravages the slope of your neck, clenching down so perfectly he damn nearly cums just wondering how it’d feel wrapped around his cock. 

“shit,” he groans as he presses particularly hard into your g-spot, feeling how tightly you wrapped around the digits as if on command. he rips his hand from your cunt suddenly, and you gasp at the sound of fabric tearing when he pulls your panties further to the side. 

sunghoon licks at his fingers just so he can taste you down there too, your slick sweet on his palate. though it only serves to snap the last shred of his resolve, and before either of you know it he’s ripping his pants open so quick that the button flies to the floor – cock bobbing free and pressed to your cunt within the next second.

sunghoon lets out a sob, vision whiting out from how unbelievable you feel against him: your hole twitching where he’s just barely pressing his tip, a mix of your arousal and his pre running down his length. he bucks his pelvis slightly, cock rubbing through your wet folds. his tip nudges your clit and you both just tremble.

it takes everything in him and then some to not just thrust in and pound you like a dog in heat. 

sunghoon tries to gather the words to ask for your permission, but all that leaves him is a hoarse exhale, cock pulsing where it’s buried between your folds. you snap him out of the daze when a hand comes to wraps around his bicep, preparing to ground yourself. 

“i want it in,” you ask so nicely, batting your lashes at the man heaving like a beast before you. “please?” 

that word singlehandedly airs out every thought left in his brain. sunghoon doesn’t even think, just acts as he snaps his pelvis and splits your pussy on his cock. one swift movement and he’s buried all the way in; balls pressed to your ass, body slumped against yours as you barely keep yourself upright. 

you’re both a mess, arms wrapping around each other as an anchor, bodies pressed so tight your heartbeats start to hammer as one. sunghoon grinds forward, soiling his balls in the dripping arousal as he attempts to gently stretch you out. for your comfort, and for his own dignity, so he doesn’t cum right the fuck now. he knows he should’ve prepped you more, but he might have died from blood loss if he didn’t give attention to his raging boner for any longer. 

although.. you’ve got a death grip around his cock. sunghoon usually jerks off hard and fast with a fist clenched so tight that it hurts, and still he can’t do anything but direct his own breathing as your cunt adjusts to his size. in and out, in and out.. 

fuck.

“fuck!” sunghoon cries out as he gives a quick thrust, barely even pulling out before sinking deeper, tip nudging your cervix as you gasp a moan. “f-fuck, fuck–” his hips stutter before they find a pace, bracing his hands on the wall behind as he drives his cock into you over and over. 

your knuckles turn white where they’re holding onto his back for dear life, he’s sure to find tracks of scratches across the muscles tomorrow. yet he can’t even feel the sting over your pussy sucking him in – perfect. so perfect in how you flutter around his length with each thrust, your pretty whimpers and cries as he rams into your g-spot every time.

“god– you..you’re taking it!”

you babble out something that might be a reply, trembling fingers reaching for his neck to hold his face close. his chest twists with pure love for you. everything he’s done in your name, it paid off. it surmounted to this. you let him in, and now he’ll give you his blood. 

“let me?” sunghoon pleads in a broken voice, hanging on by the thinnest thread as he pounds you into the wall, his lower belly coiled dangerously tight. he wants to cum inside you so bad. he wants to ruin you for anyone else. “let me, pleasepleaseplease–”

“yes, yes!” you plead right back, mouth falling open as he picks up to an animalistic speed. 

a few good thrusts later and sunghoon’s spilling inside you, pace undeterred as he focuses on fucking as deep as possible inside you. cockhead dribbling warm ropes of cum into the bump of your cervix. 

sunghoon slumps all of his weight onto yours as he chases his breaths, still nestled deep inside and groaning with each pulse of his cock. the comedown leaves him in some halfway point between heaven; bliss floating through his veins, a smile carved deep onto his lips. 

this time, he pinches himself to check – and when he blinks, it all stays right where it was. 

even in your state, you catch the gesture and breathe out a laugh, too exhausted to get the noise out. your knuckles run over his forearms, wondering when he’ll start to soften inside you. 

sunghoon starts to kiss your neck again, and you have the realisation that he intends to keep going. you push him off you gently, reaching down to slip his still-hard cock out. 

“as much as i don’t want to, i need to get back to work.” you remind him, your concert still very much looming on the evening. 

sunghoon grimaces like the fact personally offends him – though he’s not sulking for long as he watches you pull him out and then tug your underwear back in place with one quick motion, soiling the fabric as his cum stuffs your cunt. 

“i’m sorry about your spot,” you say, tenderly cupping his cheek and giving him soft eyes. “my staff know who you are now, and they could escort you to the private box?” 

sunghoon nods, smiling stretching even wider, flashing his canines. he doesn’t need to prove he’s not a threat – you know, and you don’t care. 

you brush your skirt down back into place. “i’ll see you after the send-off wraps up?” 

you don’t have to tell him where you’ll be. the place that your staff picked out for post-show dinner and drinks. he already paid to know that. and you’d know this too. 

but you don’t mention it as you leave him with a sweet kiss on the lips. in fact, he doesn’t think you ever will. 

—

sunghoon didn’t know he had this much love in his body. all the blood that keeps his heart beating isn’t close to enough for what he wishes to give to you. his girlfriend. his world famous, popstar, funny and talented and gorgeously perfect girlfriend. ever since he first called you that he just can’t stop saying it. 

sunghoon has a sort of notoriety now within his community of your fandom. he went silent following the infamous airport stunt and the guard pulling him from the sydney pit – and a few photos with someone resembling him at the after-show dinner had made the rounds around fans with insider connections. it was all kept very hush-hush, hadn’t made it to any outlets thank god. out of jealousy, he assumes. he made it and they didn’t. 

you’ve fully opened yourselves to each other, much like normal couples do. he promised to leave that life behind for good, and feels immense shame for everything he did leading up to dating you. 

and, cross his heart, he does. but after years of chasing this exact goal, he can’t but feel a thousandfold more obsessed with you. his girlfriend. you’re still his entire purpose in life. he gave up everyone else in his life who wasn’t you, so when you’re too busy with work to listen to him ranting on and on about how much he adores you, who else is he meant to turn to?

Anonymous posted: We all know that y/n’s been dating lately. With the way she limps on stage, I bet she lets her boyfriend fuck her right before she goes on. He cums inside her, stuffs her full and puts her panties right back on so it’s all sealed tight inside. Performing and dancing around for the crowd with her man’s cum still hot in her pussy. 

smooothoperator: shit that sounds so hot

heesung64: I’d kill to be her boyfriend and do that everyday

doggystyle02: fuck you i know exactly who this is. fuck off and die

@ttturnitup @jhthings @fweakygyatt @lunaryoongie @binneulton @kits-treasure-trove @kpopishgirlie @jaja-salute @joongtime @fancypeacepersona @persassyismysecrettwin

[miffheewon]

the backflips i did reading this

i adore fics that explore the psyche of its characters, especially darker elements of their personality and this was just done well, i could only grin after reading this 😭 your writing is phenomenal, you've gained a new fan in me 🙂‍↕️ (not like hoon though...)

[makeitworse]

WELL R U MINE?

jake’s wanted you for too long to just let his opening go to waste. it’s a shame you’re dating his best friend and all.

⭑ pairing: f!reader x jake (ft. jay) ⭑ words: 2.8k ⭑ warnings: cheating, dubcon, smoking pot, desperate ass jake, oral (f rec), unprotected sex. 18+ MDNI

⭑ notes: makeitworse turns 1 today!! a year ago i posted my first fic on here, and in honour i have revamped it for enha! (i tried not to change too much but it’s clear to me how my writing has improved LOL). ty for all the love that let me reach this point ♡

with an exhale, smoke pours from your nostrils as you pass the blunt back to jay, who mutters a “cheers, beautiful.”

warmth flooded your skin, the high settling in and weighing on your eyelids. maybe it was just the weed, but you hadn’t missed the way jake’s eyes had been locked onto you ever since the blunt got lit.

he averted his gaze whenever your boyfriend reared his head, of course. save himself an earful. but jay’s tight arm around your waist did nothing to deter his beloved best friend from the blatant staring.

you sinked further into the leather couch, finding comfort in laying your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder. when you check jake again, your eyes meet.

shamelessly, he made a show of trailing his eyes down your body, lingering on your tits.

whatever the fuck he thought he was doing, your brain was too fuzzy to give a shit about.

maybe jake had really rolled some horny goat weed for you all to smoke, since your boyfriend was planting featherlight kisses to your temple that quickly escalated to ravaging your neck. he had a rough grip around you, fingers digging divots into your waist as if he was aware the boy on the other end was watching. or maybe you were just thinking that.

dazed, you didn’t even realise you were leaning backwards from the force of jay’s kisses; contacting what you assumed was the couch until you felt a third hand on you.

you craned your neck as best you could at jake while jay was going to town on your clavicle. jake had a careful hand on your thigh, rubbing circles into the skin with a touch so soft you could’ve been imagining it.

were they both planning to fuck you?.. the thought floated through your head.

as jay pulled your face into a greedy kiss, jake inched closer. you felt his nose poke at your ear as you kissed your boyfriend back. jake’s lips brushed against the lobe, and he sighed, sending shivers across your skin.

then jay fell back and stole you away, pulling you to lay top of his body. he slid his hands under your shirt and palmed at the flesh, unabashedly making out with you as if jake had already seen himself out. he hadn’t, in fact.

you were too high, on the weed in your system and jay’s tongue in your mouth, to care. long limbs tangled with yours. you felt hot everywhere, and was that dampness your own? hands, so many hands, feeling you up and down all over. jay’s, jake’s, you couldn’t tell them apart.

you hadn’t realised you even fell asleep until you came to in the dark. all three of you had passed out sprawled across the couch. lifting your head, you identified your cushion as jay’s thighs. you then inspected your lower half — occupied by none other than jake, arms wrapped around your waist with his face in your back.

you were pressed close, way closer than you and your own boyfriend were laying. how had it come to this? surely you didn’t wriggle your way here on your own and in your sleep.

you try to get up, but jake’s arms pull you to lay flush against him. even through his hoodie, his body’s burning hot. he heaves a deep breath into your ear.

“mm, where are you going?”

“jake..” just as you began to wonder what he wanted, you felt it. you knew exactly what he wanted as it pressed into your ass — right where he had pulled you to align with him.

“stay here with me.” he whined, his hands creeping down your shirt, one daring to slip underneath and ghost across your bare stomach.

“jay—” you started, reminding him just where you both were.

“—i won’t tell if you don’t.” he chirped in.

a sudden snore from jay was like an encouragement. he wasn’t going to know.

your mind was betraying you. but, it was hard to think of anything other than jake’s palm gently cupping your breast and his boner digging hard into you.

“jake, no.” you had hoped the word was enough. you couldn’t move in fear of waking jay up.

“baby,” he cooed, bucking his hips slightly, letting the warmth dig deeper into your ass. against your better judgment, your pussy pulses at the contact. his other hand slid up to hold your face. “please, can’t you feel how bad i need it?”

”you’ve got a hand,” you hiss before abruptly getting up off the couch.

jay stammered awake, disoriented. you beelined for the bathroom without so much as a glance back.

door shut and locked behind you, you washed your hands, avoiding eye contact with your reflection. if you looked at yourself, you’d probably find SLUT written across the mirror. what the fuck was that? the best friend of your boyfriend was just all over you, and you didn’t recoil? you didn’t even flinch?

even with the disgust settling in your stomach, there was something hot unfurling there too — a bolt of rush coursing through your blood. your brain knows it’s wrong, but your body was reacting in all the right ways.

maybe jake’s just worked up and latching onto the closest person he can, you reason. you and jay did disregard his presence during your tonsil hockey earlier.

you settle on pretending nothing happened. for his sake and for your own sanity.

that thought hightails as you turn the doorknob, where the door’s barely ajar before jake barged in like a dog waiting for its owner. you stumbled back as he slid in, swiftly locking the door behind him.

he whistled, biting his nails and scanning his eyes up and down your body. “waiting for me?”

“fuck off.”

you moved to walk past him, but he simply catches you in his arms like he’s got all the right to, furrowing his brows like you’re the one not thinking straight.

he pulls you as close as physically possible, one hand cupping your jaw, the other at your back keeping you stationary. you writhe against his grip, though it doesn’t come naturally.

“i’ve wanted you so fucking bad.” he sighs. a hand falls to your ass, staying there. you force yourself to not melt into his touch.

“jay is your best friend.”

“hmm, what about it?” he dismisses it like you’re just telling him the weather. he trails kisses along your jawline, nipping at the part of your earlobe he sighed onto earlier. you almost whimper at the sensitivity, skin alight with goosebumps.

“we’re not doing this, jake.” you grimace, the words tasting foul like your mouth knows they’re a lie.

“already are, babe.” he says with that big, dumb puppy smile as he tilts your chin up to face him.

his hand on your ass squeezes as he pulls you flush against him, shameless in rubbing his length over the front of your crotch. a gasp slips from your mouth as you now realise the sheer size of him.

the air was almost thick and hard to breathe with how palpable his desire was; how he was smiling like he won the lottery with pupils dilated to the max.

testing the waters, jake’s thumb swiped across your bottom lip, your mouth parting open as if on instinct.

you felt your body surrendering against your better judgement as his thumb slid onto your tongue. instead of flinching from his touch, you were leaning in, like this was natural for you two. like you were made to fit together like this.

you closed your lips around his thumb and sucked lightly. jake let out a deep sound from his throat, and you could’ve sworn you felt a twitch from his cock.

he muttered a ‘fuck’ before he pulled his hand away and collided mouth with yours at lightning speed, tongue roughly delving in.

you moaned — against your fucking will, you moan and he’s pulling you in, his pelvis jolting into you. you don’t know why but you’re kissing him back, and you’re both sloppy and breathless and it’s so fucking hot.

your high is over, why the fuck were you doing this again? your boyfriend’s outside — god, was he even back to sleep?

you pulled away, the sudden movement causing almost a whine to slip from jake’s open mouth.

“we really shouldn’t do this, jake.”

“baby, come on.” he drawls, sliding his hands up your body, into your shirt. “you want this too, don’t you? just let me.”

you didn’t realise he was guiding you back until your backside made contact with the bathroom counter. jake leaned his weight onto you, his erection a sharp reminder. he slipped a knee between your legs, digging into your core. you bit your lip to stifle the noise that nearly left you.

you closed your eyes, craning your neck up to the ceiling. the exposure allowed jake to plant soft kisses on your neck.

behind your eyelids, you pictured jay. memories flashing of his territorial tendencies: cursing jake out for standing too close, for staring too long.

“why you looking at my lady like you wanna snatch her, bro?!”

“jay, leave it alone.”

and this asshole still found ways around it. the dots were connecting: those not-so-accidental brushes of his hands. how when you looked at him, he was always looking first. the heavy weight of eyes on you when you bent over or stretched, when your boyfriend wasn’t in the room.

you hadn’t been around him enough to think of it as anything. maybe jay was always on guard for good reason.

the wet pop of jake’s mouth coming off of sucking your neck was the clear indicator of why.

with hands on his chest you softly pushed him away. something flickered across his glazed eyes. it almost made your knees buckle. he looked like he was about to fucking starve to death and you felt a pang of remorse, of wanting to relieve his ache.

your head was spinning from the comedown, breaths coming heavy as jake just watches and waits. cautiously, you met his gaze again, where he catches your faltering certainty and sprints with it.

“i can be quick,” jake reassures you, cupping your cheek. he presses a hard (what was meant to be fleeting) kiss to your lips. though, his dick gets the better of his thinking, and he’s parting your mouth open with his own again.

he finally stops himself with a chuckle. “i won’t last, since i’ve wanted this for so long.”

“did you just want to fuck me from the start?” your voice delivered a tad shaky from the realisation of it all. he was eyeing his best friend’s girlfriend the whole time, and jay must’ve known it too. this was his biggest fear come alive.

“you should be mine instead.” he said breathlessly. his hands wildly roamed over your curves, covering any surface jay possibly could’ve touched before. he was leaving his mark — the hickey blooming on your neck already a stamp of his presence. “let me show you?”

you whimpered his name. it was so, so wrong. and his touch felt so fucking right. the tension was going to crush you alive.

suddenly, everything outside of this room could get fucked — jake was here, and you needed him in you now.

your voice was so soft, the ‘please’ from your mouth barely a noise. but from the pant that left his lips — he heard it. and then he was all over you.

his movements happened in a flurry. his mouth was bruising yours from the force of his kisses. you squealed when he groped your cunt through your pants. he then wasted no time pulling those to your ankles.

“fuuuck, baby.” he bit his lip, eyes trained on your cunt. his hands on the back of your thighs lifted you up to sit on the bathroom counter. his haste to fuck you had you soaked.

he started palming himself through his pants, panting just at the sight of you bare and glistening with arousal.

he fell to his knees. “shit— sorry, i’ll get to it. i just—” he shut himself up by latching his mouth onto your pussy, and you could’ve screamed from the contact.

you bite your bottom lip so you don’t, else jay would come and break down the door.

his mouth lapped at you in a frenzy, covering every inch of you in his saliva. you were already pulsing under his tongue and he felt it when he slipped two fingers into your aching core.

your hands flew out to his hair as he filled you up, and a satisfied moan rumbles on your cunt.

“fuck yeah, pull my hair.” he moans around your clit, closing his lips to suck hard. you pull until it must hurt, channeling your frustration about how fucked this is and how wet you are in spite of it.

you dared to look down at him — of course, he was already looking first — and you caught his hand underneath his waistband, pumping himself to the speed of his fingers.

he curled them inside you over and over without mercy while he ate you out like a crazed dog, beckoning your orgasm out of you whether you wanted it or not.

there was a taut rubber band deep inside you on the verge of snapping. whines spilled out from the lip between your teeth, though keeping quiet was an afterthought when jake had you so close in record time.

the cold air hitting your cunt made you shiver when he pulled away abruptly, standinh to his feet.

“god, shit. you get this wet for him?”

pre-cum had made a pool at the front of his pants. his leaking cock sprung free when he yanked the band down. he hooked his arms under your knees and pulled you close — tip prodding at your entrance. you could only whimper.

“what’s that, baby? he never eat you out like i do?” he slings you legs over his shoulders, letting his cock drift lazily over your clit.

“jake, please—” please stop asking about my boyfriend. please don’t stop what you’re doing.

your pussy splits open when he pushes in. his rough kiss to your lips barely smothers the moan that escapes. once he bottoms out, he graces you with just a moment to adjust to his shape before he’s pulling out and snapping back in.

he sets an unrelenting pace, and your head lolls back as he fucks you like he’s trying to mould your insides to the shape of his cock.

one hand hooks a thumb under your shirt and lifts it to expose your tits, watching them bounce with each of his frenzied thrusts. his palm comes to rest tight around your neck, keeping your head firm against the wall.

“baby, fuck, taking me so fucking good.” his eyes were wild, pupils blown wider than you’d ever seen when he was high. “fuck, kiss me—”

you did. his and your moans were mixing together in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. he pressed your sweaty foreheads together, lowering a hand to rub circles around your clit. you cried out, feeling the balloon inside you on the verge of popping.

“tell me you’re mine.”

you couldn’t even think of who or whatever existed outside of the room — your only thoughts were consumed entirely with jake, jake, jake.

you whined the magic words to him, and he rammed you to your shared release, his fingers rubbing in tune with your pretty voice whining that you’re all his.

he doesn’t even ask before he’s shooting his cum inside of you, pushing even deeper and spurting more with each pulse of your pussy around him. he doesn’t pull out until he’s certain you’ve emptied him for all he’s worth.

you both slumped together, boneless and sweat-ridden. head resting on each other’s shoulders as you caught your breath in the suddenly too quiet bathroom.

in the hazy post-sex clarity, you became acutely aware of the noise from the last few minutes, as well as the fact that you’re actually not jake’s.

your train of thought was broken when he caresses the small of your back, softly rubbing the aches out with his knuckles.

“knew i could get you,” he chuckles fondly like he didn’t just wreck the fuck out of hie best friend’s home, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “this pussy’s mine from now on, yeah?”

you nod shakily — but you were completely unprepared to look your boyfriend (ex?) in the eye when that door inevitably opened.

jake just kisses you sweetly, his face splitting in a smile full of affection. “that’s my girl.”

library ✦ taglist ✦ inbox

@ttturnitup @jhthings @seungttttop @fweakygyatt @lunaryoongie

[miffheewon]

the way my stomach is still in knots after reading this

i genuinely can't believe i just stumbled across this masterpiece. i WILL be reading all your other works 🙏🏾

[writingdose]

[nephynes]

COLD PURSUIT ──.୨ৎ hyung line one shot

The campus rumors said the ice girls were more than just a cheer squad—they were the hockey team’s private tradition. You’d always dismissed the gangbang myth as just locker room bravado until you make the team and find out it’s very, very real.

minors do not interact

pairing ── hyung line x afab reader

word count ── 12k

content tags/warnings ── hockey team dynamic, ice girls are the cheerleaders of the hockey team, social hierarchy, college dorm life, physical overstimulation, non-consensual caretaking (aftercare), exhaustion, manipulative power dynamics, non-con/dub-con, choking/breath play (implied), rough handling, marking/bruising, objectification, slut shaming, loss of consciousness, secret society/fraternity like behavior, and heavy psychological tension. not a love story!

nene’s note ── this ended up being longer than i had expected that why it took a minute before i posted it. shoutout to @sunishake for giving me the green light to finally finish editing it and post! as you know i loveeeee feedback! enjoyyyy <333 drop a 🏒 if you loveeee zoya cause i do!

nsfw tags under the cut

unprotected sex, gangbang, squirting, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), marathon sex (kinda), creampie, double vaginal penetration, spitting, face/throat fucking, let me know if i missed any.

The September air was still thick with the residual heat of summer but the breeze cutting through the quad was already carrying the first sharp hint of the ice that would soon define your semester. Two weeks into freshman year and the campus already felt smaller than the brochures had promised. In all honesty you felt suffocated by the weight of a legacy neither you nor Zoya could escape.

Zoya walked beside you, constantly twisting her fingers in the strap of her bag. "I haven't slept in like three days," she admitted in a strained voice. "Tryouts are next week and I swear I can feel my heart in my throat every time I see a pair of skates."

"Zoya, breathe," you said. "You've been training for this since we were six. You're more prepared than anyone else in that rink. Stop stressing."

Your friendship with Zoya was a constant bond forged long before you understood what a legacy even meant. Your mothers had met in the very halls of this university, dressed in the same blue and white uniforms you were now expected to fill. You had spent your childhood in the back of dance studios and cold arena bleachers, two shadows following the footsteps of women who had once been part of the university's most celebrated icons.

"I don't know how you're so calm," she glanced at you. "If I don't make the cut, my mom might actually disown me. Your mom isn't exactly going to be thrilled if you aren't on that roster, either."

You shrugged, feeling like the weight of the expectation had just become a dull ache you'd simply learned to live with. "I'm sure she'll manage. Besides, it's just a team. There are more important things than whether or not we look good in sequins and skates."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered as you both found a stone table in the quad, sitting next to each other while the noise of the campus humming around you. "They only take five girls each year. Five."

"Because they have to maintain the twenty girl balance, Zoy," you countered, squinting against the sun. "Five seniors graduated so they need five new freshman and you can only try out in your first year. It's simple math, not a conspiracy. It's no biggie."

Zoya went quiet then, her expression shifting from nervous to something more focused. She leaned into your space and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to pay attention.

"Have you heard the gist lately? In the dorms?" she asked. "It's not just about who's the best skater anymore. Everyone is talking about the tradition. The real one."

You felt an internal groan. "That rumor? Again?"

"They say the hockey team picks one girl from the five new recruits," she said with her eyes wide and dead serious. "One girl who has to give it up at the tryouts welcome party. That it's a requirement. A gangbang for the guys who run the rink."

You rolled your eyes and let a sharp, dismissive sound escape your throat. "Zoya, please. That is the most tired, misogynistic urban legend on this campus. It's locker room bullshit meant to scare us or make the guys feel like they have more power than they actually do. It's just a rumor. Stop letting it get in your head."

"Like for fucks sake. Am I meant to be excited at the thought of a bunch of guys fucking me?"

But Zoya didn't back down, if anything she just leaned into closer, darting her eyes around as if the very trees were wired. "I'm serious! It's not just some ghost story, I'm telling you. My roommate's cousin's TA has a niece who was the girl they picked last year."

You stopped mid sip of your drink and lowered it to look at her with mocking disappointment. You let the silence hang for a beat too long just so she could sit with what she just said, then you started repeating her words back to her, dripping your voice with deliberate sarcasm.

"So...let me get this straight," you began ticking the points off on your fingers. "Your roommate's...cousin's...TA's...niece?" You asked her and watched her resolve start to crumble at the corners of her mouth as the absurdity of the so called source finally hit the air.

"When you put it like that, it sounds—"

"It sounds like a game of telephone or Chinese whisper played by people who have spent way too much time inhaling zamboni fumes," you finished for her.

She let out a frustrated whine while reaching to grab your shoulders. "Shut up! You're so mean!" she laughed and started to shake you back and forth. Her grip was firm as she swung your body in rhythm with her protests. "Take me seriously! I'm trying to prepare us for potentially having to take dick!"

The physical drama of it was too much to resist, you really tried to keep your face stoic but the sight of Zoya looking so genuinely panicked over a fourth hand story about a TA's niece broke you. A bubble of laughter escaped and soon you were both giggling like the kids you used to be.

The week of tryouts had been a blur of synthetic light and the rhythmic scrape of steel on ice. For Zoya, it was a slow motion descent into madness, she was a whirlwind of nervous energy in the locker room, retying her laces until her fingertips were raw and changing her skates three separate times because she convinced herself the blades weren’t right. You had watched her from the bench, already laced up and ready, trying to offer a calm anchor in her storm of superstition.

When your turn finally came, you didn't really overthink it. You moved through the routines you'd practiced since you were tall enough to reach the rink boards, you remembered all the crossovers, the synchronized lunges, the power pulls. It was muscle memory at this point or a birthright clicking into place. To you, it wasn't a performance—it was more of another day at the office.

Now, a week later, the tension had migrated from the ice to the stifling atmosphere of Zoya's dorm room. You were sitting criss cross on her bed while your phones sat like two ticking time bombs on the mattress between you.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Zoya whispered, staring at the dark screens. "If I don't see an email in the next sixty seconds, I'm dropping out of college and moving to a farm."

"You hate dirt, Zoy. You'd last barely an hour," you muttered, trying to be calm even though your own pulse was beginning to thrum against your ribs.

Suddenly, both screens lit up simultaneously and two identical notifications from the university athletics department banner appeared.

Zoya shrieked, launching herself off the bed as if she'd been electrocuted. She paced the small rug with her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, don't open it yet. We do this together."

You picked up your phone, your hands shaking but still steadier than hers and stood to meet her in the center of the room. "On three?"

"On three," she breathed as her finger hovered over the screen.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

The light of the screens reflected in your eyes as you both scanned the text.

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the 2026 Ice Girls roster..."

"WE GOT IN!" Zoya screamed, the words overlapping with your own as you read the confirmation out loud. She tackled you back onto the bed, you didn't even get through the second sentence before the room exploded. You hit the mattress with a thud as her weight pinned you down, her face buried in your shoulder as she vibrated with pure, unadulterated adrenaline.

"We did it! We actually did it!" she shrieked into your ear, her joy was infectious enough to finally break through your cool exterior and you couldn't help it. It was like the tension of the last week finally evaporated into a fit of breathless giggles. You lay there on the bed, tangled in limbs and phones, laughing up at the ceiling while Zoya squeezed the life out of you. And for that one moment, the weight of your mother's expectations and the dark whispers of campus rumors felt miles away—eclipsed by the simple reality that you were officially in.

The calm excitement of the afternoon was short lived though, quickly replaced by hurricane Zoya in a state of social crisis. Your dorm room looked like a textile factory had exploded, there were clothes draped over your desk lamp and jeans strewn across your bed as she dove head first into your closet for the third time in twenty minutes. "The welcome party isn't just a party, Y/N," she muffled from behind a row of your hangers, her voice strained with the familiar, high pitched anxiety that always made you want to both hug her and laugh at her. "It's like a hierarchy. The hockey team is going to be there and the resident ice girls will be judging our every move. We can't just show up looking like we're headed to a late night study session in the library!"

You laid there on your bed, watching her with an amused tilt of your head. Zoya was always a perpetual mess of nerves, she was a beautiful disaster but you loved her to death for it. Her intensity was the only thing that could actually make you feel the weight of whatever was ahead.

"Have you actually seen the hockey team in person? Like up close?" she continued, finally surfacing with a grunt of frustration. "They’re not a human, they’re like filtered ai images come to life. And don't even get me started on Heeseung—the captain. If I have to stand next to him, I refuse to do it in a crewneck sweatshirt." She tossed one of your favorite oversized hoodies onto the floor with a look of annoyance. "Seriously? You have nothing sexy in here. It's all...functional."

"I was just going to go in what I have on now," you said, gesturing to your simple jeans and tee.

Zoya let out a gasp of such genuine horror you thought she'd actually been wounded. "No way, Y/N! You are not going to embarrass us! This is our debut!"

Before you could protest, she lunged for the overstuffed duffle bag she'd lugged over all the way from her own dorm and with a dramatic flourish, she hoisted it over both your heads and dumped the entire contents onto your bed. A mountain of lace, silk and leather tumbled out in a heap.

"Pick," she commanded, pointing at the pile with a manic twitch in her eye. "Pick right now or so help me God, I will pick for you and I promise you it will involve something tiny."

Giving in to the inevitable, you sighed and reached blindly into the middle of the mountain. Your fingers snagged onto the strap of a dress, so you pulled it out—a short, form fitting black dress with delicate straps and a neckline that was definitely lower than anything you owned.

Zoya's eyes went wide and her frantic energy instantly shifted into a predatory sort of pride. "Ooh...okay, okay! That one is hot," she purred, clapping her hands together. "The I don't care but I look incredible look. It's perfect. Go. Put it on. Eeek! I can’t wait, Y/N!"

You’re not surprised the party ends up being a far cry from the chaotic, floor shaking rages you'd been attending in the freshman dorms. This was something different, it was controlled and suffocatingly exclusive.

You let your eyes scan the room as you hoisted yourself up onto the kitchen island, slowly realizing the rumors about the inner circle weren't exaggerated. There were exactly twenty two hockey players and the twenty ice girls, including the five of you who had just been initiated. The air felt heavy with a specific kind of social politics you weren't sure you wanted to play. Zoya, however, was of course a natural and about twenty minutes ago, a guy with a sharp jawline and an observant gaze called Jungwon had detached himself from a group of upperclassmen and navigated the crowded living room with a focused sort of grace, landing right in front of Zoya.

"Was it a requirement for this year’s ice girls to be extra gorgeous?" he'd asked her with a voice smooth enough to make Zoya's usual nervous energy vanish into a flattered blush. He looked into her cup before speaking again, "Want to help me find something that isn't cheap beer?"

Zoya had glanced back at you, her eyes wide with a silent 'Is this okay?' question. You'd given her a small, reassuring nod, the green light she needed to finally enjoy the night she'd spent weeks stressing over.

Now, you were alone sat on the island while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up slightly as you adjusted your seat. The fabric was sleek and undeniably hot, as she'd put it but it didn't stop you from feeling like an outsider looking in.

Through the pulse of the music and the low hum of athletic egos clashing, your mind drifted toward your dorm. You could almost feel the weight of your oversized weighted duvet and the silence of your room. You were halfway through the mental calculation of how long you had to stay before an early morning excuse became socially acceptable, when the stool next to your legs slid back and the scent of expensive cologne hit you before he even spoke.

"You look remarkably bored for someone who just clawed their way onto the most exclusive team on campus," his voice came, all deep and smooth, holding a hint of a challenge.

You looked up and met a pair of intense eyes. He was striking with sharp angles and cool composure. Normally, you might have given a dry retort about the music volume but you caught sight of Zoya across the room, laughing at something Jungwon said. You knew her mentals would never recover if you started your tenure by being rude to one of the hockey gods.

"I’m just a bit tired," you said and forced your lips into a polite smile. "It's been a long week of skating."

He tilted his head and studied you a little as if he were reading a play. "Fair enough. I'm Jongseong but everyone just calls me Jay."

"Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Y/N" you replied. You were just about to settle into a rhythm of light banter when a second presence came crashing into your peripheral vision.

"And who is this cutie?"

The newcomer leaned against his palm with his elbow the marble counter, he was radiating a completely different energy from Jay, so warm and dangerously charming. He looked like the kind of guy that had never had a bad day in his life.

Jay didn't even glance at him, his dark eyes somehow stayed locked on yours and his voice dropped an octave as he answered for you. "Y/N," he said your name and made it sound like a claim and not like an introduction.

The new guy grinned, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Well, Y/N, I'm Jake. Huge congratulations on making the ice girls. That’s a big deal."

You offered an amused huff. "Thanks. Though I'm surprised you even know I'm new. I figured we all looked the same to you guys in those practice uniforms."

Jake let out a short laugh and shifted closer until he had his head nearly in your thighs. "Oh please," he murmured, letting his gaze travel over your face with a boldness that made the back of your neck heat up. "I would've spotted you months ago if you were already around. You're far too stunning to go unnoticed on this campus."

Before you could respond to Jake's blatant flirting, a third figure cut through the conversation. He didn't look at you, well at least not at first. He directed all his attention entirely to Jake. "Heeseung is looking for you," the newcomer said a little bit like a warning. "And he's already pissed. You were supposed let the delivery driver with the drinks in and now he’s gone…with the extra drinks."

Jake didn't look remotely intimidated, if anything he actually looked bored as he rolled his eyes and let his hair tickle your arm. "Heeseung gets pissed at everyone, Sunghoon. It's his default setting by now."

The name Heeseung had been floating around the dorms like a title of nobility for weeks but the way they spoke it made him sound like a force to be reckoned with. "Who exactly is Heeseung?" you cut in, managing to keep your voice steady despite the triple threat of hot guys surrounding you. "And should I be staying clear of him?"

That was the moment the new guy finally acknowledged you. His gaze drifted down and landed on you with a clinical kind of interest that felt like you were being scrutinized.

"He's our captain," Jake answered quickly, with a playful smirk returning to his lips. "And whether you stay clear of him or not isn't really up to you anymore, is it? You're an ice girl now."

"This is Sunghoon," Jake added, gesturing vaguely to the cold eyed newcomer.

Sunghoon didn't smile at you but the intensity of his stare softened just a fraction. "So, how does it feel? Being one of the chosen five?"

You opened your mouth to give a diplomatic, it's great response but your gaze snagged on a movement across the room, where Zoya was stood still with Jungwon distracted by the person he was talking to over her head. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you sat at the center of a triangle of hot guys.

She caught your eye and mouthed, "What the fuck?!" her expression was a blend of genuine horror and curios thrill.

You caught her eye and gave a subtle, helpless shrug, you didn't have an answer for her, damn—you didn't even have an answer for yourself. Ten minutes ago you were thinking about your bed and now, you’re the center of gravity for some sexy strangers.

Just as Jay was trying to pull you back into the conversation with a question about your major or something, a voice came from nowhere. "Jake. Come on, man. I told you to let the drinks guy in." The voice was low and authoritative, lacking any of the playful warmth the others had shown.

Heeseung didn't even look like a student in the best way possible, he looked like the architect of the entire room. His presence was heavy like a physical weight that made the banter from a moment ago feel suddenly juvenile. He didn't even acknowledge you, his eyes were fixed entirely on Jake with a look of tired discipline.

"He left and now we’re low on drinks," Heeseung added but Jake didn't miss a beat and instead of shrinking, he finally just placed his whole head in your lap as he flashed a boyish grin at his captain.

"Can you blame me, cap?" Jake countered, the tone was light but his eyes were dancing with a hint of challenge. "I was just doing my job. Making our newest recruit feel welcome. You wouldn't want the ice girls thinking we aren’t hospitable, would you?" He spoke as if you were the ultimate get out of jail free card.

Heeseung's eyes finally shifted, they traveled slowly from your face down to where your hands were resting in Jake's hair, then finally up to your face again. His eyes weren't hungry like Jake's or intense like Jay's, they were just insanely observant, tracing your features quietly in a way that made your breath scatter.

He let out a long sigh and you could see the tension in his jaw flicker for just a second before he looked back at the three guys flanking you.

"Of course," He said. "I should have known. You three always did have a habit of gravitating toward the prettiest girl in the room."

He stepped closer and invaded the space the others had already carved out, letting his shadow fall over you. "The problem is," he said, shifting his eyes to lock onto yours with a finality that made the myth Zoya was going on about suddenly feel real, "they usually forget that the prettiest ones are the hardest to keep in line."

His eyes searched yours for a crack in your nonchalant exterior. "So," he murmured, "are you going to be a problem, doll? Hard to keep in line?"

The weight of the four of them was suffocating, it made you lose trust in your own voice, so you simply shook your head, a subtle movement that felt like signing a contract you hadn't even read.

A satisfied smirk pulled at Jay's lips so he let his shoulder brush yours. "In that case," he said, "we're moving to a more...private after party. Just us. You wanna come?"

He didn't phrase it like a question, to you it sounded like it was an invitation or a command. You hesitated and your mind flashed back to the quiet safety of your dorm but Jake was quick in sensing your retreat. He reached out and let his thumb graze the back of your hand where it rested on the marble now since he lifted his head from your lap.

"Come on," he coaxed with a honeyed voice. "The night's just getting started. You don't want to be the only recruit who tucked herself in just before the real fun began, do you?"

"I...I can't leave Zoya," you managed to glance over their tall frames toward the dance floor. "We came together. I can’t just leave her alone."

Heeseung didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as if he already knew exactly where everyone in the room was positioned. "Zoya’s in safe hands, Jungwon is the sweetest. He'll look after her."

You followed his gaze to the center of the room where the lights caught Zoya, who clearly wasn't checking for you anymore. She had her back pressed firmly against Jungwon's chest, her head tilted back as his hands gripped her hips. She looked flushed and lost in the heat of the moment, completely oblivious to the fact that you were being cornered right now.

The rumors Zoya had whispered about at the stone table suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. Looking at her, then back at the four sets of eyes waiting for your answer, you realized you had to make a choice. But maybe it wasn’t even like that, maybe they were just being really good wing men for Jay, who was the first to approach you. And if you’re being honest you didn’t mind the either of flirting with him more in a more quiet location.

That line of reasoning was exactly how you ended up sat between Jay and Sunghoon in the backseat of a massive truck you’re suspecting Jake owns, seeing as he’s the one driving with Heeseung in the passenger seat.

The fabric of Sunghoon's expensive jacket brushed against your left arm while Jay's solid frame pressed into your right, leaving you with nowhere to lean but forward.

The blue light of your phone screen felt blinding in the darkness of the car as you quickly typed out a message to Zoya.

You: I left with Jay. Didn't want to interrupt you and Jungwon. Text me when you're back?

You watched the read receipt appear instantly, trying to ignore how you conveniently left out the fact that you left with all four boys. A second later, a heart reaction popped up over the bubble, the girl didn’t even bother typing back, she was clearly occupied and it made you snort.

But before you could lock the screen, a large hand reached over and plucked the device from your fingers. Jay didn't even look at the screen as he pocketed it in his jacket with his gaze fixed on the side of your face. "Relax," he told you. "I promise you, Jungwon is a real gentleman. He'll make sure she gets back safe."

"He's right," Sunghoon added from your other side but when you looked at him, he was staring out the tinted window at the passing streetlights. "Jungwon is the best of us. No need to worry."

Jake caught your eye in the rearview mirror and flashed you his perfect white teeth, the engine roaring as he accelerated down the road.

The drive felt like it was happening in a different dimension, the hum of the engine was drowning out by the predatory focus of the men surrounding you.

Jay shifted his weight so his large frame crowded into your personal space until you were pinned against the leather seat and Sunghoon's solid side. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this since you walked into that kitchen," he said, "You're so fucking gorgeous, it's insane."

He moved closer, letting his nose brush yours and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"

Your words had abandoned you, the sheer fervor of his gaze made you dizzy and all you could do was nod. He didn't wait to be told twice, crashing his lips onto yours in a kiss so hungry and demanding, it made a tiny whimper escape your throat, muffled by his lips as his tongue traced yours.

From the front, Heeseung's amused voice cut through the haze, he glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of Jay nearly on top of you, pushing you further into Sunghoon. "Control yourself, Jongseong," he said with no real bite to his words. "You're always so impatient. We aren't even off the main road yet."

Jay definitely wasn’t listening, deepening the kiss instead and letting his hand grip your waist. That’s when you felt a sharp spark of electricity as a different hand began a slow trail up the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your head snapped to the left with wide eyes to meet Sunghoon's gaze, who wasn't looking out the window anymore, whose lips were now pulled into a pout. "And what about me?" he whispered, "Where's my kiss, Y/N?"

Caught between the two of them, you leaned over and pressed your lips to Sunghoon's in a softer kiss. The moment you did, Jay groaned into your ear and grabbed your waist to hoist your leg over his lap, forcing your legs apart in the cramped space and making your dress ride up dangerously high.

Jay's fingers danced along your inner thigh, inching upward until they hooked under the delicate edge of your lace panties. The sensation sent a jolt through you and as Sunghoon began to trail wet kisses down the column of your neck, your breath hitched in a jagged sob.

You were sure you would faint if they both kept going but the vehicle came to a halt and Jake's voice drifted back from the driver's seat, "We're hereeee."

Trying to get out the truck, your legs felt like water when your heels hit the gravel of the driveway, making you stumble.

"Woah, easy there," Sunghoon caught you and before you could find your balance, he moved with the strength of an athlete. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you upward, flipping you over his shoulder like you weighed less than a hockey stick.

That forced a whimper out of your lips and your hair cascaded toward the pavement while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up even further. Blood quickly rushed to your head, mixing with the lingering dizzy spell Jay had started in the backseat.

SMACK.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your rear echoed in the quiet night. "Shh," he shushed you with his hand lingering for a possessive second on the curve of your hip. You could hear the others following behind him as he carried you into the house. Jake let out a low laugh from somewhere behind you. "Careful with the cargo, Hoon," he teased but there was no real concern in his voice.

"She's fine," Jay countered, speaking for you and reaching up to trace a slow line down your exposed calf.

Heeseung led the way and punched a code into a glowing keypad of the door, the mechanical click of the lock sounding like a gavel hitting a sounding block. He stepped inside and held the door open, his eyes tracked your inverted form on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

"Try not to make too much noise, doll. The neighbors think we're such studious boys."

Sunghoon dropped you carefully, setting you down on the couch and the first thing you registered was the interior of the house, it was even more imposing than the truck—all dark leather and the kind of minimalist luxury that felt cold until the four of them surrounded the couch where you sat. They stood in a semi circle, before Heeseung stepped forward with an expression so unreadable, it stripped away the playful banter of the car ride.

"Before we go any further, let's be clear," he started, speaking in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "We're going to fuck you. All of us. If you don't want that, if you've changed your mind, say it now. We won't be mad and we won't make it weird. Jake will drive you back to your dorm and we'll go back to being normal hockey players and ice girl on Monday. No questions asked."

The rumors weren't just true, they were standing right in front of you, tall and extremely expectant.

But as you looked up at them you didn't feel fear Zoya had spoken of this very moment with. The adrenaline from the car ride was still singing in your veins, drowning out any hesitation.

Without a word, you reached up, hooking your fingers under the thin spaghetti straps of the dress. You watched their eyes track the movement as you slowly slid the fabric down, letting it pool around your waist until your breasts were fully exposed in the dim light of the apartment.

"Fuck yeah," Jake breathed, already reaching for the buckle of his belt. "I told you she was the right choice," he muttered.

Heeseung didn't have an outward reaction but the corner of his mouth ticked upward in a smirk—the first sign of genuine approval you'd seen from him all night. "Good girl," he said but now his voice carried a heavy sexual weight.

It was as if they had been waiting all night to tear into you, Jake didn't wait for a second invitation, he dropped to his knees by your legs before burying his face against your chest. "Fuck, I love tits," he groaned, the sound muffled against your skin before his mouth latched onto one nipple. He sucked with a greedy pace that sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak until you were arching your back off the leather cushions.

Above you, Jay was already crowding back into your space, ready to continue what he started in the car. He gripped your jaw and tilted your head back for a bruising make out that had you gasping for air, his hands found your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

While Jake and Jay claimed your upper body, Sunghoon moved with a surgical focus. He didn't say a word as he reached down, hooking his fingers into the lace of your panties and tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. He tossed the scrap of fabric onto the expensive floor without a second glance.

He looked at your pussy with a smirk pulling at his lips. "Look at that," his voice barely cut through the sounds of Jake's wet suction and Jay's heavy breathing. He reached out with two fingers to graze your folds, coming away coated in your evidence. He held them up to the dim light, showing you how much you were already leaking. "You're absolutely soaking. Such a little slut for the team, aren't you, baby girl?"

The words hit you in a way that made your toes curl and sent a whine into Jay's hungry mouth, your hips instinctively rolled upward toward Sunghoon's hand or face, desperate for the friction you knew was coming.

From the edge of the couch, Heeseung watched with a calm satisfaction, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in the sight of his teammates dismantling the newest ice girl.

"She's perfect," Heeseung noted. "Jay, move."

You were pinned to the plush leather of the sofa like a living sacrifice to the tradition you had only joked about five hours ago.

Heeseung leaned over you, letting his large hand cup the side of your face so he could claim your mouth. His kiss was deep, slower than Jay’s and tasted of dark intentions. But the moment his tongue met yours, you felt like you could fall in love with him, that thought was quickly pushed out of your head when a pair of hot, wet lips latched directly onto your clit with a suction so precise it felt like a machine.

"Ah—!" Your back arched violently off the cushions as you broke away from Heeseung's mouth, only to look down and find Jay's dark hair between your thighs. He didn't look up, his hands gripped your hips with bruising force to keep you still while his tongue worked with in rhythmic motions. He was fucking your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue and flicking it against the most sensitive parts of your cunt until you were sobbing into the quiet of the room. "S—Slow down!"

You tried to tug at the roots of his hair to ground yourself but there was no use. On either side of your chest, Jake was still relentlessly toying with your breasts, moving his mouth from one nipple to the other and grazing his teeth on the swollen peaks until they were raw and sensitive.

Heeseung didn't let you stay away for long, his hand shifted from your cheek again before sliding down until his fingers curled firmly around your throat. It wasn't enough to choke you, just a steady, pressure that forced your chin up and pinned you in place while he leaned back in to reclaim your lips.

"Stay still for me, mama."

With a hand on your neck, Jake's mouth on your chest and Jay's tongue devouring your cunt, you felt like you were being pulled apart. You became a mess of whimpers and little breaths while your body twitched with every flick of Jay's tongue as the four of them began the process of breaking you in.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen from his kisses.

"Do you know how to suck a dick, doll face?" he asked, to which you could only nod with your eyes wide and glazed over from arousal.

He took hold of your jaw with a firm grip, maneuvering your head like a piece of equipment he was testing for the first time. You were forced to turn away from the wet sounds Jay was still making between your thighs and suddenly you were face to face with Sunghoon’s cock. He stood right at the edge of the sofa with his jeans already pulled down. His cock was thick and pulsing with a life of its own, there was a perfect bead of precum trembling at the crown. It looked lethal in that light, it looked way too big and ready, completely unapologetic.

"Open up."

Your mouth fell open in a silent invitation that he accepted instantly as he guided his length past your lips. The salt heavy taste of him flooded your mouth and you found yourself choking out a muffled whimper when he slid in deep, bottoming out against the back of your throat on the very first thrust.

He wasn't gentle, he lacked the patience Jake liked to pretend he had, he reaching down, he tangled his fingers into your hair at the roots to steady you or perhaps just to keep you from pulling away then began to fuck your face with a bruising rhythm.

It was complete sensory static, you had Sunghoon's weight invading your throat, Jay's tongue still ruthlessly fucking your pussy below and the heavy pressure of Heeseung's hand on the back of your neck. Every time Sunghoon thrust, his hips bumped against your nose and the scent of him suffocates you in the best possible way.

You were drowning in them, drowning in the friction of the leather sofa against your back and the dual assault on your body, you could barely find the air to breathe. It made you reach out and dig your fingers into Sunghoon's quads for some kind of leverage, you felt the rock hard muscle jump under your touch as you doubled down on the suction.

"God, look at her," Jake's voice drifted from somewhere above your chest. "She's taking him so well. Such a pretty thing."

Sunghoon wasn’t offering any ounce of mercy, his movement turned into something frenzied as he crowded into your space. He used your hair as a tether, pulling your head back to meet every punishing lunge, the friction of his length against your tongue and throat becoming a choking heat. You were swamped in the taste of him, making your eyes water cause his hips snapped forward with a certainty that left you with no room to breathe.

Determined to wrestle back some semblance of control, you reached up and clamped your hand around the very base of his cock, letting thumb press firmly into the heavy vein on the side, you tried to anchor him in place, circling your tongue around the head with laser focus. You started to suck and choke on him in a pace that had his knees buckling against the edge of the cushions.

The controlled grunts he had been making finally fractured. "Fuck," he gasped, something genuine and high pitched ripping from his throat as his head snapped back. The cold look he’d been attempting to wear all night was completely replaced by a wrecked expression that bordered on pain. He leaned his full weight into you, bracing one hand against the wall behind the couch, his fingertips raked against your scalp cause he was losing the battle to stay composed.

He looked down at the others, his voice a jagged rasp that ripped through the wet sounds of Jay still eating your pussy so messily and the squelching of his own cock fucking your mouth. "Heeseung...oh fuck my life, she's actually s—so fucking good at this."

Jake’s chuckle was appreciative from where he was still occupied with your chest, his thumb flicking your nipple with a punishing pinch that made you jump. "I told you. She's got that quiet desperate energy. They're always the nastiest."

Jay hadn’t even come up for air from the slick mess between your thighs, his tongue was still hitting your clit with sharp flicks that made your hips buck weakly into his mouth.

Heeseung's hand was tracing the frantic pulse in your throat, he watched the way your cheeks hollowed out when you doubled down on Sunghoon, his expression shifting from calculated observation to something much hungrier.

"Damn," "What a sight."

You fought for every bit of air while stilling working your throat around Sunghoon with a needy drive that you were determined to maintain until he finally came. You wanted that win, you wanted the feeling of him losing his composure completely as he spilled into your mouth but the sensation coming from Jay was starting to break your focus.

Two thick fingers suddenly shoved their way past your entrance and stretched you wide with an abrupt force that made your eyes roll back instantly. At the same moment, a hot mouth seized your clit again, sucking with an intent pressure that had you wanting to shriek.

The rush was too much, it was a violent collision of pleasure that had you trembling on the couch. You tried to pull back, shaking your head as you attempted to dislodge Sunghoon just to let out the scream building in your lungs. But Sunghoon wasn't having it, he forced you back down until you were buried to the hilt once more, snapping his hips forward with an unchecked urgency.

"Come on, baby girl...I'm so fucking close. Take this cock for me. You’re a good girl, right?"

You tried to obey, hollowing your cheeks so you could double down on the suction but the fingers inside you were merciless. They pushed deeper, reaching past depths you didn't know you had and hooking upward to find that one receptive spot to stay there, pulsing against it until your entire body went rigid.

The dam within you didn't just break, it completely shattered, leading to a hot wave of fluid erupting from you, soaking the hand buried inside you and splashing against the expensive cushions. You were squirting around those fingers in quivering jets, your gummy muscles clenched in an uncoordinated pulses that you couldn't stop if you tried. Every muffled whimper and sob was swallowed whole by Sunghoon's length, leaving you to shake helplessly as you were essentially being consumed from both ends.

"No way," Jake's excitement reached your ears through the haze, he stopped his assault on your breasts just to stare down at the slick mess soaking into the dark leather. "Holy shit, she's a squirter. Hee, did you see that?"

Jay let out an elated sound while his fingers were still buried deep to catch every last twitch of your orgasm. "I see it," he muttered. "I feel it. You’re ruining the couch, angel."

Even through their words and the force of your organs that had you shaking, Sunghoon’s hips were unstoppable. It was like he had lost his grip on reality and you could tell he was on the edge of his own climax.

His hand tightened in your hair with a pushing force as a string of broken curses tore from his throat. "Holy fucking shit—Fuckkk baby girl." "Sh—Shit! You’re gonna make me cum."

It was as if it was too much for him but he didn’t pull back, he pushed further into to your mouth, the phallic head of his cock assaulting your throat.

His hot spurts of cum shot down, making you gag and the cum overflow but he wasn't done, he somehow managed to keep thrusting, trying to fuck every last drop back into you with so much heat that your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"Easy, Hoon. You're going to choke her," Heeseung's voice broke through the fog, still calm but carrying that undeniable authority. He reached forward, wrapping a hand around Sunghoon's shoulder and physically hauling him back.

The moment the pressure vanished and you heard the squelch of his cock pulling out from your mouth, you collapsed forward on the sofa. You couldn't seem to catch your breath, the air was whistling in your lungs as you coughed uncontrollably. Strings of white, pearly cum trailed from the corners of your mouth, dripped down your chin and carved wet paths through the sweat on your neck.

Jay moved over to catch your jaw, he started to pull at the hem of his shirt and made an effort to wipe the mess from your face but it was a lost cause—you were completely ruined. He looked down at you, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lower lip and his eyes went soft for a minute. "You okay? We can stop if you've had enough. You're shaking like crazy."

The room went still for a heartbeat and all four sets of eyes tracked the way your chest heaved. You swallowed hard, still tasting Sunghoon heavy on your tongue and looked up through your lashes. A defiant smile making its way to your lips, even though a stray tear from overstimulation rolled down your cheek.

"No," your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You haven't even fucked me yet. Isn't that what you promised?"

A charged silence followed your words before Jake let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Jesus Christ," "She's a total fucking freak. I love it."

Before you could even think to retort, Heeseung's hands were on your hips hauling you up and flipping you over, forcing you onto all fours in the center of the sofa. Your knees sank into the plush leather and your head hung low, making your hair shield your face as you felt the cold air of the room hit your exposed pussy.

Heeseung seemed to love keeping you suspended in that agonizingly sharp moment of anticipation, your breath wouldn’t stop hitching as your patience dwindled, you felt the blunt head of his cock begin to drag along your wet folds. He was taking his time, coating himself in the mess Jay had left behind, teasing the entrance until you were mindlessly rolling your hips back to find him.

"D—Don’t tease!" You shrieked at him, so desperate to be filled, he finally pushed in slowly, it was so intrusive that you felt like you were being split wide from the inside out. His size was unforgiving and every millimeter he gained seemed to stretch your walls to their absolute limit. You were starting to tremble, your elbows buckling as you tried to stay upright and in a moment of total overstimulation, you twisted your neck to look back at him.

That was a mistake.

The second your eyes met his dark, blown out ones, completely hollow of any pity, his face hardened and he reached forward, large hand wrapping firmly around the front of your throat, not to choke you but to force your head up and arch your spine, causing a violent surge of his hips that buried his cock all the way inside your pussy.

"FUCK!" You screamed straight from your lungs, the impact was so sudden it knocked the air out of you, leaving you gasping as your walls squeezed down around him in a reflexive grip.

"Nngh—fuck," he grunted, dropping his forehead to the space between your shoulder blades at the feeling of you clenching. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck to hold you steady against the force of his own intrusion. "You're so fucking tight. Doll, are you sure you’ve been fucked before?"

Regardless of his pussy drunk concern, he didn’t give you a second to adjust, picking a speed that had him bottoming out with every single thrust, making the world blur into a cloud of white light and the steady slap of skin meeting skin.

You found a way to open your eyes and were immediately met with Jay standing just inches from your face with his hardened dick in his hand, stroking at the view in front of him. The sight of him with completely unfiltered hunger in his eyes made you reach out to try to grab him yourself but your fingers grazed his thigh instead.

"Yeah? You want this too, angel?"

You couldn't even find your voice, you could only bob your head in a nod while Heeseung's hips collided with your ass.

"Say please," Jay commanded.

"Ah—nhh, please..." you whined, the sound breaking into a jagged sob as Heeseung bottomed out again. "Please, Jay...please fuck my mouth."

He kneeled on the couch on the space between your hands, the heat of him hit your face before he tapped the heaviness of his length on your outstretched tongue. You were a complete mess, your hands clinging his thighs for balance while your body was tossed back and forth between the two of them.

Heeseung shifted his angle and suddenly he wasn't just pounding into you anymore, he began to grind into that spot that had your toes curling into the leather. It wasn't the raw friction Sunghoon had used to fuck your face—it was a slow and deliciously exact pressure that made you pull off Jay’s cock for a second.

"Oh my God! Right there! Fu—Ah!" A broken string of moans escaping you, you looked up at Jay with your eyes glazed and watering. "Jayyy, Heeseung...Heeseung’s fucking me so good...It’s so good, Jay!"

Jay watched your face contort with the pleasure Heeseung was providing. "Yeah?" Jay rasped with an instant competitive heat and pushed his way back into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep but not as deep as Sunghoon. "You like that? You like how he's stretching out your little pussy?"

Just as you were starting to manage the dual invasion of Jay and Heeseung, a new spark ignited at your core. Someone had reached beneath you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing down until he heard you moan.

"W—Wait! Too much!"

The scream was raw and echoed off the high ceilings as you realized Jake was the source of the new pleasure. A new pleasure so overwhelming it turned you into a delirious mess of babbles.

"Thank you—fuck—thank you so much!" You cried, your head thrashing against the sofa cushions, completely abandoning Jay’s dick. "It’s so big...my pussy! Oh my God! Heeseung, it feels so good!"

You dug your fingers into the leather and began to throw your ass back with an erratic force, you were weaponizing your own body, slamming back against him so hard that he let out a choked off grunt, his hands scrambled to find purchase on your waist cause you had completely hijacked his rhythm. He was losing his control, it made his breath come out in ragged, stuttering hitches as you ground your pussy on his fic harder and harder.

"Wait—oh shit—doll, slow down," Heeseung managed to say but his voice a mess. He was trembling and muscles were all corded and tight with how hard he was struggled to keep up with your manic pace. "I'm gonna...fuck...can I cum? Can I cum inside you, doll?"

"Yes! Yes!" you keened. "Give it to me, Heeseung—fill me up, please, please just do it! Please give me your cum!"

Maybe Jake was starting to feel felt out or neglected, maybe that’s why his eyes got this strange kind of glee in them when he delivered three stinging slaps directly to your swollen clit.

The impact was the final straw and you knew you didn’t stand a chance, your vision went dark at the corners and for the second time in less than an hour a wave of fluid erupted from your pussy, soaking Heeseung's thighs and the sofa in a hot jolt. At that exact moment, Heeseung lost the battle, letting out a guttural roar and having his fingers bruise your hips when he surged forward one last time and pinned you down, dumping his entire load deep inside your overstimulated cunt.

The expensive fabric of Zoya's dress was now a lost cause, it was a ruined topographical map of cum streaks and the translucent evidence of your own multiple orgasms. You were slumped against the leather with your skin hot when Jake leaned into your space. He looked down at you with a fake pout, his bottom lip tucked out in a way that would have been endearing if his eyes weren't so eager.

"You look absolutely undone," Jake said softly, a little playfully too while he traced a smudge of Sunghoon's cum on your cheek. "Are we done? Because you haven't even touched me yet and I'm starting to feel a little neglected over here."

Heeseung was a complete afterthought at this point, slumped back against the sofa cushions with his chest heaving, he looked entirely fucked out and content to just watch the rest of them continue to use you. Jay snorted as soon as he saw his captain sidelined before he reached out and tugged you toward him.

He didn't give you a choice in the positioning, quickly sitting back and pulling you onto his lap so that your back was pressed against his firm chest, your legs straddling his thick thighs in a reverse cowgirl that left you bare and vulnerable.

"I can be a bit rough, angel," Jay warned in a low voice that traveled straight through your spine. He leaned forward and let his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Just tap my arm if you need me to slow down, okay?"

You were able to give him a weak nod but right before you could even settle into the new position, the dynamic shifted. Jay's hands slid down, hooking the firmly under your knees and hauling your legs upward until your thighs were pinned against your chest. He shifted his grip and locked his fingers behind your head in a makeshift full nelson that made your chest thrust forward and your pussy completely bared to the room.

Jake quickly stepped in and helped Jay's guide his length to your entrance. The thrust of him was so creamy and squelching due to the mixture of Heeseung's and your cum but it didn't stop the way your pussy still felt stretched and overstimulated.

"Oh fuck—!"

You were completely at his mercy, pinned between his solid frame and the air, with no way to pull back or adjust the depth. Jay didn't waste a second of your shock, snapping his hips forward with animalistic strength that made your entire body jostle with every strike.

You became a passenger in your own body, your head lolling forward cause you had no choice, he ruined what was left of your composure with a speed you had no hope of escaping.

The sound Jake's loud commentary and the heavy, satisfied sound of Heeseung's laughter became nothing more than background static the moment Jay's lips grazed the damp skin of your earlobe, to whisper like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Look at you," he hissed and words rattled in your skull.

His arms tightened under yours, pulling your chest even tighter against the position so he could fuck into you with sickeningly perfect thrusts. "Taking all of me like a champ while they just watch. You're so fucking wet, I can hear it every time my dick goes inside you. Do you like being our little showpiece? Do you like how much of a mess we've made of you?"

You tried to gasp, tried to find some response but he caught your ear in his teeth in a sharp nip. "Answer me, angel," he ordered and you couldn't help but clench harder at the sound of his sexy voice in your ear. "Tell me how good it feels to have me giving you this good dick. Tell me you're never going to be the same after tonight."

The way he spoke was so different from Sunghoon's cold commands or Heeseung's calculated dominance. He seemed to be utterly depraved while he detailed exactly what he was doing to your body, using words that made you feel like you were going insane.

"Nnh—Jay—"

"Yeah, that's it," he rasped, increasing his pace until you were bouncing helplessly in his grip. "Keep saying my name like that. Let them watch you cum apart for me. You're so fucking perfect, I'm gonna lose it if you keep squeezing me like that."

You were a complete disaster in his arms, like his words were actively bypassing your brain and heading straight for your pussy. He was pinning you to his chest and whispering every filthy thought he'd had about you since he first spotted you tonight, and with every word, he pushed you closer to the edge of your third orgasm you weren't sure your body was ready for.

The physical barrier of Jay's body didn't stop Jake, he seemed to be a creature of opportunity and when his eyes caught onto the wet frothing friction of Jay’s cock pounding into you, he darted his tongue out to trace Jay’s cock, catching the pearly drops of cum that had pooled at the base of him, and then he made a torturous trek upward. He licked right over the tension of your stretched entrance with his tongue firm and flat, before landing straight on your clit.

"Mmm—Jake—NO—!"

Your scream was harsh, heavy with the evidence of total sensory overload that vibrated through Jay's chest. You weren't just getting fucked anymore, they were taking you apart from the outside in. Every time Jake's tongue swirled over your now extremely sensitive nub, a fresh jerk of aching pleasure sang through your whole body to the point where all you could do was kick your feet and moan. "Oh my God! Oh shitttt! Fuck!" "Nggh—My pussy!"

"Look at you," Jay said into your ear so lowly that no one could hear him over the sound of your cries. "She's losing her fucking mind, Jake. Look at how she's shaking."

Jake didn't answer him with words, he just doubled down, mouth sucking, spitting and slurping until your vision was spotting. He was working in perfect tandem with Jay—the blunt force of the thrusts bottoming out inside you while Jake’s wet mouth kept you on the very edge of another violent climax.

You were a mess of incoherent sobs and frantic hitches as the room blurred into a haze of salt and the overwhelming scent of four men who were determined to see exactly how much you could take before they finally broke you for good.

"Hey," "You think you can handle more? You think that pretty little pussy of yours can take two cocks at once?"

Your brain was mid short circuiting from the overstimulation of both of them leaving you totally incapable of actual thought. You just wanted to be good for them, you wanted to be the perfect, ruined thing they so badly desired.

"Yes," you sobbed into the quiet of the room, making eye contact with Jake who had with tongue flat out so Jay was brushing up against it too. "Yes, please...I can take it."

Jay eyes locked onto Jake's with a competitive look. "She says she wants both, Jake. Get in here."

Jay didn't stop, but he did shift his rhythm, slowing the full nelson into a heavy grind that still kept you anchored while Jake stepped into the space between Jay's spread legs. Jake was vibrating with a feverish drive, his eyes were blown wide when he looked down at the slick mess of your pussy, mostly from him spitting and slurping all over it.

He spat a dollop directly onto your pussy again and the heat of it was a stark difference to the cooling fluids already coating your skin. Looking at him above you, all you could notice was how he was undeniably the heaviest and thickest you’d seen all night but you didn’t even get the chance to appreciate it before he decided to slap the heaviness of his cock directly on your swollen clit.

"Ah shit! Fuck Fuck Fuck—!" Your toes curled mid air.

He was massive in a way that made Sunghoon and Heeseung look manageable by comparison and who had struggled to take them, so how would you manage this?

"Look at you," Jake mocked, guiding the thick weeping head of his cock into your pussy, right alongside where Jay was still buried deep and grinding just on that spot. "You’re already stretching out for me. You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you?"

He began to push his way in, not waiting for your body to adjust around two massive cocks inside you. The stretch was agonizing, you felt like your walls were being pressed flat against your pelvis. You were being split in two, the two of them worked in sync to draw out the high pitched whimpers from your throat, bullying their way into your pussy until you were stuffed to the brim.

"That's it," Jay whispered in your ear, tightening his arms to keep you from collapsing under the weight of them both. "Take these cocks, angel. Show us how much you can really take."

His words made the room start to blur in a spectrum of light and the heavy thud of the sofa hitting the wall. Jay and Jake had found a devastating coordination—a seamless tag team assault where one was bottoming out against your cervix just as the other was pulling back to the entrance. You were never left empty, never given a second to recoil or catch a single, clean breath.

"God, Jay, your cock feels amazing," Jake barked out in a manic laugh while he watched the way your walls buckled and pulled taut to accommodate both their lengths. "I can feel you pulsing right against me inside her. She's so fucking tight." "You always this tight, babe?"

You were barely tethered to reality not to talk of attempting to respond to him, he was asking like he and his teammate weren’t both fucking your little pussy at the same damn time. "I can’t! You’re—I’m gonna cum again! Please!"

In a moment of panicked overstimulation, you tried to blink through the sweat stinging your eyes to search the shadows for Heeseung's grounding presence or Sunghoon's cold, watchful gaze. But the living room had swallowed them whole, they were nowhere to be found, leaving you entirely at the mercy of the two most insane.

Jake had seemed to develop a fresh obsession with your clit. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for the twitching bundle of nerves with his fingers. The shock of the cold metal of his rings against your feverish, hot skin sent a violent tremor through your entire frame.

"Ah! Wait—! N—no!"

"No? I bet you fucking love it?" "I bet you love being fucked by four random strangers, oh shit."

"I bet this is the best—oh fuck!—I’m going to cum."

"This is the best night of your life. Say it."

"Holy shit! Yes yes yes! This is the best night of my fucking life!"

"You're going to be such a pretty little ice girl for us, you know that? You’ll be the sexiest thing on the ice. Everyone's gonna to look at you and have no idea you were fucked like this, shit, like a whore on a Friday night."

The mention of the ice, the mention of the world outside this suffocating living room felt like a distant dream. Your vision started to tunnel and the edges of the room started to fray into darkness as the dual friction of their bodies and the icy bite of Jake's rings pushed you toward a ledge you couldn't come back from.

A third and what you could tell would be your most violent orgasm of the night was already beginning to bubble up in your stomach, the feeling threatened to short circuit your entire nervous system. Your walls clutched at them with a crushing strength and for a terrifying, blissful second, the world went completely silent as you felt yourself starting to slip out of consciousness right at the peak of your pleasure.

The world didn't just blur, it splintered. Your third orgasm hit you with so much force you sat on the edge of unconsciousness, you tried to hold onto the overwhelming fullness of them both but your vision had started to dissolve into static.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a sharp grunt when Jake suddenly pulled out. The loss of his heavy weight was a shock to your system and you were left choking for a breath you couldn't quite find.

"Fuck—"

A second later, you felt the heat of his cum splashing across your chest, the weight of it soaking into the ruined fabric of the dress and landing on your sensitive nipple. He didn't stop, his hand tugging his cock in a final rhythm to coat your skin in the evidence of how much you had ruined him.

At the exact same moment, Jay let out a low moan but he didn’t pull out, if anything, he shoved his cock deeper just as he unlocked his fingers from behind your head and you immediately felt his cum beginning to fill you up, a heavy, internal tide that pushed you over the final ledge.

The heavy sound of their breathing was the last thing you registered before you slipped into a dark, unconsciousness, completely and utterly spent.

Is that a bird? You thought. No way that’s a bird but there was a chirp piercing through the fog of your consciousness. You winced as you tried to blink the world into focus, the ceiling above you was familiar, the off white and the faint water stain in the corner were familiar but the context was all wrong.

You were in your own dorm room.

The confusion hit like a physical weight and made your heart hammer against your ribs. You felt clean too, with the lingering scent of a citrusy body wash clinging to your skin but when you managed to push yourself up, the fabric of what you were wearing felt heavy and oversized. It wasn't your silk slip of Zoya’s dress, it was a thick, grey hoodie that smelled faintly of Jay's cologne and a pair of soft athletic shorts that definitely didn't belong to you.

A sharp ache blossomed in your lower back the moment you shifted, followed by a dull soreness between your thighs that made you hiss through your teeth. So you definitely didn’t dream up last night, the memory of all four of them, from Sunghoon fucking your face to Heeseung’s grip on your throat and the brutal weight of Jay and Jake stretching you to the brink, everything came rushing back in a vivid flood.

You reached up to trace the sensitive skin of your neck. Even without a mirror, you could feel the tender heat of the hickeys littered all across your collarbone and neck. You pulled back the hem of the oversized hoodie and gasped at the blossoming bruises on your hips, they were perfectly symmetrical to where Jay and Heeseung had grabbed you.

"How did I get back here?" you whispered to yourself and reached for your bedside table, expecting to find your cracked phone screen and a half empty water bottle. Instead, your hand brushed against the wicker of a massive, overflowing gift basket. It was filled with things that had no business being in a college dorm room—high end skincare, a silk robe, a plushie and boxes of artisanal chocolates.

But sitting right at the center and gleaming under the morning sun, was a pair of professional grade figure skates looking like something you would never buy cause of how expensive you knew they were. The white leather was pristine, the blades polished to a lethal shine and as you pulled them closer, you saw your initials—your initials—expertly embroidered into the heel in silver thread.

Tucked into the laces was a small card. You opened it with shaking fingers to read the scribbled words.

Thank you for the lovely night, doll face.

— The Hockey Team

These boys had seen you at your most ruined, they had taken apart every bit of your composure until you literally blacked out in their arms and then they had washed you, brought you back to your own bed and tucked you into bed like you were something precious.

You were tracing the silver embroidery on the skates when the door to your dorm swung open with a violent bang. Zoya practically vibrated into the room in a whirlwind of excitement and messy hair, her voice was already at a pitch that made your sore head throb even more.

"You will not believe him!" she shrieked, collapsing onto the foot of your bed without even looking up. "Jungwon is—god, he's actually the sweetest human alive. He sent me like five texts checking if I got in okay, even though he walked me back and now we're going on a date tonight? I'm going to throw up, I'm so nervous. You have to help me, I need to breathe, I need—"

She stopped mid sentence when her eyes finally landed on you. Her jaw dropped as she took in the oversized hoodie, the tangled mess of your hair and the undeniable hickey just above your collarbone. Then, her gaze drifted to the massive basket and the gleaming skates.

"Oh my," she breathed, her voice dropping into a stunned, reverent whisper. "Wait...is this from Jay? Stop, that is actually so hot. Did you guys...did you actually have sex? Tell me everything!"

"Yeah…we did. Something like that."

"No way! You're kidding! And he sent all this!?" Zoya shrieked, lunging forward to tackle you into the pillows while you wracked your brain for a less insane version of the story you were going to feed her, a version where you had sex with just Jay.

Exactly three weeks later, it was hockey season and the biting chill of the practice rink felt like a sanctuary these days rather than a chore. You glided through a series of warm up laps with the other ice girls in the brand new skates that now felt like a natural extension of your own body. They were perfectly broken in, like a silent reminder of a night that still felt like a fever dream every time you closed your eyes.

Zoya was a few feet away in a blur of focus and grace. She tucked into a tight, centered spin, her arms pulling in as she gained a dizzying amount of speed. It was genuinely impressive, she had the kind of technical precision that usually took years to master and you couldn't help but pause to watch her finish with a sharp flourish. "Show off," you teased her.

She laughed but her attention was immediately pulled toward the far end of the rink when the loud thud of the gate opening echoed through the arena, followed by the aggressive clack-clack of blades hitting the ice. The hockey team was filing out for their scheduled practice and their presence instantly shifted the energy of the room from quiet focus to something loud and electric.

Jungwon didn't even bother wavering the moment he spotted Zoya, he skated straight to her in fluid movements despite the heavy pads. He caught her by the waist and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips that had her giggling like a schoolgirl.

"See you after?" he asked loud enough for you to hear, before skating off toward the center circle. As you watched him skate away, your eyes drifted to the rest of the team and you found Jake almost immediately. He was leaning against the boards with his helmet tucked under one arm while he watched you with those eyes. When he realized you were looking back at him, he didn't look away, instead he let his eyes drop to the silver initials on your skates before snapping back to yours with a wink that said everything and nothing at all.

Zoya’s head whipped toward you, her eyes wide cause she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Woah, woah—what was that? Jake? Seriously?" She skated closer and poked your arm with a gloved finger. "Does Jay know his teammate is giving you those kinds of googly eyes? Are you trying to start a locker room war?"

A slow heat curled in your gut but didn't say a word. You just looked at her and held her gaze for a beat, then made a deliberate show of zipping your lips together and throwing away the key with a flick of your wrist.

"Stop! You are so mean!" Zoya squealed, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around in a circle. She started whining, her voice echoing off the high ceilings as she begged for just one little detail. "You can't do that to me! I tell you everything about Jungwon! Is it a thing? Is it a secret thing?"

You just laughed, the sound bright and clear against the ice, enjoying the way she was spiraling into a hysterical frenzy. You watched the guys start their drills—Heeseung’s effortless authority, Jay’s raw power, Jake’s erratic energy and Sunghoon’s cold precision.

Zoya could have her dinner dates and her sweet texts with Jungwon, this was a secret that no one else needed to know—except, perhaps, next year's chosen ice girl.

God help her.

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© nephynes 2025

all works are pieces of original fiction, do not repost, translate, or adapt without explicit permission.

[miffheewon]

im exactly where i need to be 🙂‍↕️

[girlmostlikely]

Life is quite literally all about enjoying amazing food and seeing little silly films. Releasing as much art from your mind into the real world as possible. Building community in spite of individualism. Passing along kindness to strangers. Finishing off the day with a delectable ice cream or a novelty beverage of some kind. Oh and ignoring your notifications.