Lia ♡

27| multi-stan | Cali life

[joonie-joon]

Sexual Education Series Masterlist (Conplete)

Content Warning: ⚠️ 18+ NO MINORS. Please read content warnings of each part of this series before proceeding with reading. Each part will have different content warnings and levels of intensity.

Chapters (Classes):

Intro

Class One: Sexual Education. Mingi. Making Out For Beginners

Class Two: Sexual Education: Wooyoung. Masturbation for Beginners

Class Three: Sexual Education: Yunho. Fingering for Beginners

Class Four: Sexual Education: Seonghwa. Oral Sex for Beginners

Class Five: Sexual Education: Jongho. Vanilla Sex for Beginners

Bonus Chapter: Sexual Education: Study Session. Review with Wooyoung.

Class Six: Sexual Education: Yeosang. Sex Toys for Beginners

Class Seven: Sexual Education: San. Role Play for beginners.

Class Eight: Sexual Education: Hongjoong. Submission for Beginners.

Final Exam: Sexual Education: OT8

[arwen-u]

how is it possible that he gets even hotter every day??? HIS HAIR, HIS VOICE, THE WAY HE REMOVE THE JACKET 😫😫😫😫

[yungistiny]

-ˏˋ⋆ masterlist ⋆ˊˎ-

╚═════════

-ˏˋ⋆ YUNHO ⋆ˊˎ-

-ˏˋ⋆ MINGI ⋆ˊˎ-

-ˏˋ⋆ YUNGI ⋆ˊˎ-

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

「 ✦ break them • yunho/reader ft wooyoung/san/jongho ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ polaroid • yunhwa/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ encore • wooyoung/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ congratulations • yeosang/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ friends with benefits • yunhwa/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ come on, sannie • woosan/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ skin • seonghwa/reader ✦ 」

one shot

「 ✦ my arm, huh? • san/reader ✦ 」

one shot

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

[joonie-joon]

Caught In The Act

Pairing: roommate Yunho!XFem!Reader

Genera: smut

Summary: You come home and catch your roommate Yunho masturbating with your panties which eventually leads to more.

Content Warning: 18+ NO MINORS. Exhibitionism. Accidental voyeurism. Yunho is kind of a pervert. Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Face riding. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play. P in v. Rough sex. Choking. Dirty talk. Use of the pet name(s) daddy, good girl. Squirting. Unprotected sex. (It’s fiction it’s okay, okay? Not irl)

Tag List:

@jesicakay @imcharlesgf @myypgg @cksanpurpleluv @mxnsxngie @mustbeaweasleyginger

@spiderfae03 @nadinenaya @metalheadatiny @sweatyracoon @sugar-spice-bitch @sirentheangel @mega-kittyglitter-1 @yazzyu @shanabtsarmy @ramadiiiisme @nadinenaya @taekritimin123 @angelicsharkavenue @lilyevanstan1325 @h0ngverse @cewhitaker @kisvva @coupsiebojogae @gabruix @mintyunho @pineappleonmyburger @dayho3 @belongjoong @lady-haitani @heiswan @fumaluvr @moooonandroses @auxiny @pandagirl-016 @plusultracassiex @zayn-210

——————————

You fumbled with your keys at the door after a long day of work, cursing as you struggled to carry the bag of take-out you picked up while trying to twist the key. You huffed when the door finally unlocked, pushing it open then closing it behind you. You walked into the entrance of your apartment and slipped off your shoes, hung up your bag, and headed to the living room to eat. You could hear the tv, letting you know your roommate, Yunho, was probably playing one of his games.

Your bare-feet made your steps almost silent, sneaking up to the entrance. You lifted your head to look into the room and stopped dead in your tracks, the bag of food in your hand toppling down onto the floor and contents spilling on the wood.

“Oh- oh my god-“ you stuttered, your eyes taking in the scene in front of you. Yunho was on the couch, naked from the waist down, a pair of your dirty panties in his hand that he was using to pump along his -HUGE- cock. The sound of your fallen dinner got his attention, his eyes widening but his hand not stopping. Your eyes locked with his and, without warning, Yunho came with a grunt. His body twitching as spirts of white cum sprayed high onto his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry! Oh my god- I’m.. I’m going to my room!” You screamed and covered your eyes, scrambling away from him and the mess on the floor before he had a chance to recover. When you got to your room you locked it behind you, your face burning with embarrassment.

You stayed in your room until it was pretty late, creaking your door open to peek out and see if the coast was clear. When you found the living room empty, you stepped out with the intention to clean up your wasted groceries, only to find all of the messed cleaned up and salvageable items put away.

Your heart softened and you felt a small sense of pity. Your sweet roommate, although probably mortified, still took the time to tidy the mess. After eating some dinner standing in the kitchen you retreated back to your room for the night. However, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind fixating on the situation from earlier. Yunho. His cock. Your panties.

‘Oh my god, my panties!’ You thought to yourself, the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t make sense to you. You always assumed when you signed up to live with a guy you risked catching him doing something weird or embarrassing. You could move past him jerking off. But, your underwear? It was hard to move past that.

Boys are boys thought, right? It couldn’t be that deep. Maybe it was the risk of using it? Does he like that kind of fabric and just saw it close by? Did he not have any socks? Was it your smell? Was it because it was yours? Did he think about you when he was doing it?

“Fuck, stop it.” You told yourself out loud, trying to shake away the thoughts that gave you butterflies.

You had a schoolgirl-like crush on Yunho since you first met him a year ago when you moved in. He was instantly the sweetest man you’ve ever met. Always kind, a tiny bit messy, but easy to live with. He was also very, very handsome. It was almost unfair he had all of that on top of a giant-

“I’m going the fuck to bed.” You mumbled, pressing your face into your pillow to try and drown out your thoughts and the new pulse that was between your thighs.

_____________________________

You woke up the next day groggy and wet. Your dream was so vivid, it felt like it had actually happened. So much so, you seemed to had orgasmed in your sleep. You could still feel your muscles contracting down below as you sat up, your underwear sticking uncomfortably to your body. You shrugged off your clothes all-together and decided to go shower, ready to wash off the dirty thoughts from last night.

You hesitantly peaked out your bedroom door to check for Yunho, thankfully finding his keys off the key ring, probably gone at work for the day. Your eyes hovered on the couch: the scene of the crime. You suddenly wondered what the appeal was; masturbating out in the open like that?

Still naked, you walked into the living room and took a seat on the cushion, right where Yunho had sat the day before. You instantly felt a little bit anxious knowing you were completely nude in a shared space. Your eyes fixated on the front door as you spread your legs, heels up on the couch cushions, as if you were actually going to touch yourself. The exposure itself and the taboo of it making you feel yourself tighten a bit between your thighs.

‘A few moments wouldn’t hurt.’ You thought to yourself, unable to listen to the voice in the back of your head telling you to get up and shower. Before you could come to your senses, you brought your hand down between your thighs and slipped two fingers in-between your wet folds, dragging them up to your clit and rubbing slow circles.

“Mmmm..” you moaned to yourself, head laid back against the cushions. You thought about Yunho and his thick cock. How he came so quick when his eyes met yours, your panties he stole in his hand. He took your panties to get himself off in. And it was driving you insane.

Your fingers moved a bit faster, your hips rocking against them for extra stimulation. You were lost in your memory of yesterday, losing track of time. You don’t know how long you had been there playing with yourself but, it was long past the few seconds you originally planned for. You had just wanted a taste. Now, you couldn’t stop.

Suddenly, you heard the jingle of keys outside the door, followed by a key sliding into the lock. Your heart skipped a beat and your mind told you to get up and to run. But your body? Your body felt like it was on fire. The pressure between your thighs building, your arousal coating your fingers and dripping onto the cushions below. You should stop. Needed to stop. But, you didn’t want to.

The door opened and it took a moment for Yunho to look up, your fingers getting faster when he finally did. A pornographic moan leaving your lips when you saw his brown eyes looking at you before widening in shock.

He said nothing, completely frozen. And you didn’t stop. Your fingers now moving from your clit down to your aching hole. Your fingers sliding in effortlessly, not taking any sort of pause before fucking them in and out of your pussy at a desperate pace. Your jaw falling slack, small gasps slipping through your lips.

Yunho leaned against the doorframe, face frozen, but watching. His eyes fixated on your fingers, shifting up only to catch your expression each time your fingers got quicker or when you switched back to focusing on your clit. His cock grew in his pants, fighting against the seam of his jeans. In one swift motion, he unzipped them, pulling his cock out of his boxers. He gripped his thick girth in his fist and slowly started to pump himself up and down, speeding up overtime to meet the speed of your fingers. You noticed this as well, slamming your digits into you harder, wishing it was his cock. Your palm slamming down deliciously against your throbbing clit each time you fucked your fingers into yourself.

Neither of you said a word, the only sounds were your fingers slapping down again your skin and both of your soft gasps and whimpers. Neither of you moved closer to each other, just watched, now looking at each other in the eyes. Finally, the buildup between your thighs released, your climax ripping through your body violently while your eyes fluttered shut right in front of him. He watched as your eyes rolled back in your head, fingers slowly but not stopping as you came around them, arousal dripping down your skin. The sight made him cum, the white liquid pouring down around his knuckles and fingers. His hips twitching and bucking wildly into his fist until he was emptied of every drop.

After steadying your breathing and a tinge of embarrassment creeping up in the back of your head as the reality of what had just happened sat in, you stood up silently and walked to the restroom without a word while he went to grab a napkin to wipe his hand. Finally taking the shower you had postponed, hoping it would wash away the ‘sinful’ shame you suddenly felt. When you were done washing, you came out of the bathroom to an empty living room again. Yunho’s bedroom door was closed and you could hear his bedroom tv playing an episode of a show he had watched multiple times. You fought the urge to knock on his door and won, deciding to hide out in your room as well, worrying about how different things would be from here on out.

———————————————

Hours had past and you couldn’t sleep again. You had conflicted feelings about what had happened. Anxious for the next time you’d see Yunho but also burning with anticipation to see what would happen next. You were pacing back and forth across the room, making up possible scenarios in your head of what could happen and what you would do and say. You were on your 5th hypothetical conversation when you heard a light tap at your door. You paused for a moment, collecting yourself, then invited him in.

“Come in.” You said weakly, voice faltering.

The door creaked open and Yunho’s head peaked around it, eyes wide and inviting.

“Hey.” He said, still not fully inside of the door frame.

“Hi.”

“So.. should we talk about it?” He mumbled, leaning against the wooden frame. His eyes dropping to the floor trying to act nonchalant.

“I guess so.” You shrugged, trying to match his energy. However, multiple long moments pass without a single word from both of you.

“So I-“

“I just-“

You both try speaking at once, cutting each other off. You clamped your mouth shut and held your hand out to him to invite him to start the conversation.

“Um- do you- I mean, are you okay?” He said, stuttering.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah, like, with what happened. Do you feel weird about it?” He huffed out a nervous breath and ran his hands through his hair.

“Oh.” Suddenly every line you rehearsed in your head disappeared, your mind falling blank.

“Oh? Oh god, I’m so sorry.” His hands fell to his hands in remorse, panicking.

“What? No! I mean, I’m okay! Please, don’t do… that.”

“You’re okay?” His head snapped up again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay. I’m just a little confused I guess.” You admitted to him.

“Confused? About what?”

“About all of it, I think. How it happened and why it did.” Just asking the question made your head spin again with different theories.

“Well, why were you fingering yourself on the couch?” He asked and you suddenly felt a little offended. Was he putting the blame on you?

“Excuse me? Why were you jacking off on the couch yesterday?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d be home!” He said, his voice louder and more defensive.

“So you thought to jerk off in the living room with my UNDERWEAR?”

Your words made him stand up straight and run his hand through his hair, at a loss for words. You glared at him, still annoyed from him trying to pin all of this on you. If looks could kill, he would be a goner.

“Okay, fine. I jerk off in your panties.” He huffed and you felt like a fuse popped in your head.

“PantieS? As in plural?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Pretty often.”

“Why?” Your voice sounded horrified but the heat growing between your thighs told the real truth of your curiosity.

“Do you really have to ask that?” He mumbled mainly to himself.

“Yeah, I kinda think that deserves some sort of explanation.” You rolled your eyes, your awkwardness turning into annoyance.

“I uh- kinda have a crush on you?” He cleared his throat nervously and his cheeks turned bright red. “And that’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to having sex with you so-“

“You have a crush on me?” You interrupted him in your state of shock.

“Yes. I’m sorry if it’s weird since I live with you and all. And I promise that I’m not a creep! I mean, this is a creepy thing to do but it’s the only weird thing I’ve done and I’m so sorry-“

“Yunho.. Yunho!” You called his name out multiple times to get him to stop rambling. “Can you chill out for a second?”

He paused and clamped his lips together, forcing himself to stop talking.

“Thank you.” You giggled. “Yunho, you could have said something. I’d totally fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry I- I just mean, you could have just asked? I’ve had a crush on you for a while.” You admitted and felt good saying it out loud.

“So, that’s all I had to do?” He asked, still bewildered, shaking his head in disbelief. He crossed his arms and stared at you for a moment. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth and his brow furrowed in deep thought.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

He started to walk towards you slowly, his eyes low. His demeanor was different, more intense. He never took his eyes off of you as he got closer and closer.

“So I could have just asked if I could lean down and kiss you?” He asked, bending over you an inching his face closer. “And you would have said yes?”

“Yes.” You told him, your voice hardly louder than a whisper. He reached his hand out to lay his palm against the side of your neck, fingers wrapping around the back. Your heart was beating fast and he could feel your pulse on his fingers.

Yunho pulled you to him softly and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft as pillows and formed to yours perfectly. You leaned into him to kiss him back but, he pulled away all too soon.

“What about if I asked to kiss you with my tongue?” His voice was deeper than before you had kissed him. You didn’t answer verbally, you just nodded your head. “What if I asked to kiss you with my tongue between your thighs?”

“I think you have a few more questions to ask me before we go that far.” You said as a joke but with a hint of seriousness.

“But if I had asked?” He pushed forward, not wanting you to slither out of his questioning.

“I would have let you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but it was all the confirmation he needed. He pulled you in for another kiss, this time with more fire behind it. It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen and for Yunho to climb over you in your bed, joining you in your sheets.

Yunho’s body covered yours, engulfing you in his warm arms. His hands tangled in your hair to pull your lips to his with eagerness. Between your thighs, you felt his large erection pressing against your clothed core. You rolled your hips up against him for friction you desperately craved, eliciting a delicious groan from deep within his chest.

“Please fuck me.” You begged him breathlessly, finally pulling away from his lips.

“Not so fast. I’ve been dreaming about this for months.” He chuckled, using one of his hands to pull his shirt off over his head. You ran your hand down his chiseled chest following every bump and crevice of his muscles until you reached his sweatpants, slipping your hand between his waistband of his pants and boxers, cupping his erection in your palm over his underwear. You could feel the wet spot his precum had made in his boxers.

“Let me take these off of you.” You told him.

“Only if I can take yours off too.”

You nodded your head and both of you took time stripping each other naked, piece of clothing by piece of clothing. Your warm bodies meshing together perfectly like puzzle pieces.

Yunho’s hand snaked down between your thighs and cupped your pussy, his palm and fingers engulfing you completely. You rolled your hips into his palm, spreading your arousal across his skin and moaned deeply into your shared kiss. You returned the favor, reaching down to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock that. When he slipped two fingers into your folds and dragged them up to your clit to rub circles you started to move your wrist up and down his shaft, jerking him off as he played with you. Your whimpers only giving him extra pleasure on top of what your warm hand was doing for him.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” He growled, then dipped the two fingers into your pulsing entrance.

“Ah!” You moaned, throwing your head back erotically when you felt his big fingers spread you open around him. He pushed his fingers up and down into your g-spot, his palm still giving you friction against your clit. You were trying your best to keep your hand steady on his cock but found it harder and harder to stay focused with Yunho’s expert fingers bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Yunho.. Yunho stop- I’m gonna-“ you tried warning him which only made him laugh.

“Then why would I stop?” He whispered seductively in your ear, rutting his palm even harder into your clit. You let go of his cock and grabbed onto his wrist in some sort of false control, your legs opening up wider for him as your climax continued to build. You looked up at him and met his eyes and found him looking at you intensely, his lips mere inches from yours, brushing against you as your body moved from his fingers thrusting into you.

“Cum on my fingers for me baby.” He whispered against your lips, coaxing you.

“Yunho..”

He placed his lips against your neck and used his teeth to bite down on your sensitive skin, the nip sending you into your climax around his fingers. Your body collapsed around his arm, crunching into a ball as you called out in sexual agony.

“Thaaats it.. that’s my girl.” He praised you, still moving his fingers in but slowing his speed until he finally came to a steady stop and pulling his soaked fingers out of your cunt. You watched, chest heaving from trying to find your breath, as he brought those soaked fingers up to his plump lips and sucked off your juices.

“You’re such a freak.” You giggled shyly.

“You shouldn’t be shocked about that at this point.” He told you, a smile on his face. “Now, let me taste more of you. Sit on my face.”

“Yunho, I just came. Let me make you cum.”

“Don’t worry, that will happen later. I need as much of you as I can get. I’ve waited too fucking long.” He told you, grabbing on to your waist and pulling you with his strength onto of his torso. “Come on, scoot up baby.”

He helped you shift forward until you were hovered over his mouth. When you looked down, you could still see his eyes peering up at you. You stayed there unmoving for a moment, feeling a bit nervous. Sensing your hesitation, Yunho used his arms to wrap around each of your hips and pulled you down close enough for him to stick out his tongue and lick a stripe up your wet folds.

“Fuck!” You moaned, your hand shooting downwards and tangling in the chaos of his messy brown hair. You unintentionally gave it a fierce tug. “I’m sorry- shit.”

“No, don’t stop.” He groaned between your thighs. “Don’t be afraid to use me how you want.”

He pulled you down again, this time further where your pussy settled down nicely against his tongue. Your head rolled back as you felt him roll the tip from your entrance and up to your clit and back down again, over and over. He used his arms to push and pull your hips across his mouth, encouraging you to ride him.

You wrapped your fingers in his hair and allowed your hips to follow his guidance, allowing the pleasure from his tongue to consume you. Down below, he watched you whimper and writhe while he licked up every drop of your arousal. Yunho hummed into your cunt, making the vibrations echo through your core for an extra layer of pleasure.

“Oh my god-“ you gasped. Your hips started to move a little faster as you felt your second climax approaching quickly. Yunho let go of your thighs as you had found your own rhythm and let his hands wander up your torso to your breasts. His fingertips rubbing teasing caresses across your hard nipples. You moaned loudly from the stimulation, pleased he had found one of your most sensitive spots. He was pleased as well.

He used his fingers to pull gently at your nipples, the stimulation being just what you needed to send you screaming to your second climax.

“Fuck! I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-“ you announced, body convulsing above him as you came, almost violently, on his tongue. He hummed in enjoyment as he devoured every drop of your orgasm until you collapsed onto the bed beside him, body still twitching.

Yunho wasted no time climbing on top of you and settling between your thighs. He could see your pussy was still throbbing, pulsing, and he needed to feel it around his leaking cock. He used one arm to hold his weight above you, waiting for you to look at him before speaking.

“Can I fuck you?” He asked, his voice desperate and husky. You had no idea how much more you could take but you still wanted more and more of him. You gave him the consent he needed and felt him line his tip up with your sensitive opening. He used his hand to ease his cock into you slowly, your walls swallowing his thick length with ease. Yunho shuttered and nuzzled his face into your neck, moaning as your wet warmth enclosed around his cock.

Once fully inside of you, he rested, allowing both yourself and him to adjust to the feeling. He rested his forehead against yours to look deep into your eyes. Yunho could feel you throb around him, awakening the side of him he was trying his best to control.

At least for your first time together.

You saw something in his eyes shift. The softness becoming more a look of hunger. He sat up onto his knees while still inside of you, gripping onto your hips and pushing them down onto the bed in a butterfly position. You gasped at his sudden manhandling, not in disapproval, but the position of being completely spread for him to take.

He rolled his hips into you once with force, slamming his pelvis into you roughly to test the waters, and was pleased to find you reacted with a delicious groan. He took that as his invitation to continue his rough thrusts, using your hips to pull him into you over and over.

“You feel so. fucking. good.” He grunted between his teeth. You felt like your brain had detached, your mind floating. His thick cock was coaxing the most pornographic sounds from both your lips and your cunt as he fucked into it ruthlessly. Your back arched off of the bed, hands gripping at the sheets as you tried to hold onto whatever inch of reality you were connected to.

Yunho could feel your pussy getting tighter around him. He let go of your hips and used one hand to push down onto your pelvis, just above your pussy, to force you to feel him rub against your swollen g-spot inside even more intensely. His other hand found a spot around your throat, his fingers fitting snug around the side of it, still allowing you to breathe comfortably.

“That’s it baby, take my cock.” He cooed at you, grip getting tighter around your throat as he thrusted more. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Yunho-“ you managed to choke out. “Feels.. so good.”

“Yeah? You like taking daddy’s cock? With his hand around your throat? You’re such a good girl for me.” His speed only seemed to get quicker, fucking you so roughly. He couldn’t get enough after waiting so long to finally have his way with you. And you loved every second of how rough he was being. Your wetness was dripping out of you, down his balls, and onto the bed.

“Daddy..” you whimpered mindlessly, the only word you could manage in this moment. He bit his lip and grunted, feeling close to his climax. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he was filling you up. He extended his thumb out and pressed it against your swollen clit and rubbed you in circles, making you scream. He could feel your climax about to erupt.

“Come on baby. Give it to daddy.” He ordered you. “Give. It. To. Me.”

Your orgasm gushed out of you, spraying onto his torso while he fucked your convulsing body. He hardly had enough time to admire the visual of you squirting all over his cock before his own climax erupted as well, filling you up to the brim. He shuttered, moaning loudly as he emptied himself while still feeling you cum around him. Both of you enjoying every second of your final orgasms until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Yunho pulled out of you gently and got a towel to clean both of you up. He helped you wipe both his and your liquids off your skin, being extra careful around the sensitive areas, and then gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Well..” he said, examining the mess on your bedsheets. “I don’t think you’ll be able to sleep in here tonight.”

“Definitely not.” You giggled. “I normally put a towel down if I think I’m going to do.. that.. so I’m on the couch until I do laundry.”

Yunho looked at you with an appalling glare.

“The couch? What do you take me for?”

“What? I mean, where else would I sleep?” You ask him curiously.

“With me, of course.” He told you. “I even have a shirt and shorts you can wear.”

“Yunho, you don’t have to go out of your way for me just because we hooked up.”

“I want to. And trust me, it’s just the beginning. Now, let’s go to bed. And maybe ruin those sheets too.”

———————————-

Finally finished this after abandoning this 2 months ago! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

[maho6any]

,,Dollhouse’’

Professor!Song Mingi x student babysitter!Reader

summary: every girl has had that exhilarating little crush on their teacher, it’s not unheard of by any means. it almost always amounts to nothing, a small little motivation that keeps you awake in class. most girls don’t get hired by their professors to be a babysitter, and most girls don’t end up entwined in a situation so wrong that it eats them alive at night. not the guilt, or the shame. but the hunger, and the need. and most professors certainly don’t play into those little infatuations, and find themselves chasing that chance to absolutely ruin them. so why are you trying to play house and take on a role that wasn’t meant for you?

warnings: age gap(reader is in her 20’s, mingi is in his 40’s), this is nasty, DILF!mingi, lowkey salt & pepper!mingi, tension, power dynamics, emotional turmoil, girl dad mingi, manipulation, corruption, teasing, condescending!mdom, pet names(sweetheart, pretty baby, darling, slut etc), size kink, voice kink, praise, mating press, oral(f!receiving), countdown, biting, fingering, lowkey breeding kink, choking, overstimulation, dirty talk, eye contact, messy sex, mouth covering, hold the moan, creampie

wc: 18.1k (I am SO sorry)

notes: hiii… my dear @linearities, it’s me your secret admirer! you put down dilf Mingi and I was SAT. and then you mentioned prof!teez, so I just thought why not combine the two? you don’t understand how much I got into this while I was writing it’s kind of insane, god I hope you like it. all the love in the world… thank you @everyonewooeverywhere for hosting such a fun event

- your secret admirer <3

tracklist: million dollar man, strange candy, baby one more time

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb, quite the opposite. You were intelligent, cunning. A smart woman who sometimes made foolish decisions. This would be one of them, one of the stupidest you've ever made.

And you would still do it again if ever given a second chance.

It nearly frightened you, the effect he had on you; it was embarrassing enough. It felt like an unattainable crush, a fleeting little infatuation that was bound to pass with time.

But it was so hard to get over it when you saw him nearly every day of the week. And even so, it was still not enough, and far too much all at once.

If it had to be described as anything, the word would be taboo. When he was introducing himself to his class of the year, he started with something that made your stomach do a flip.

“Y’know I have tattoos older than most of you in here, so if you ever question my teaching methods, think long and hard about how much longer I’ve been on earth than you.”

You thought long and hard, alright, and it certainly didn't help your little girly infatuation with your professor.

Professor Song Mingi, a literary instructor at your college. Students clamored during open season to squeeze into his class, which always filled up so quickly during enrollment. His teaching was sound and effective, and it didn’t hurt that he was way too easy on the eyes.

A low, flowing voice that was easy to grip onto and follow, gentle handwriting, and a pristine way with words. Dark tresses that framed his soft yet angular face, pink, puffy lips that wrapped around his syllables like a glove. His pretty, sharp nose beckoned for a rider. His meaty arms that always seemed to be struggling beneath his rolled-up white blazers, the buttons on the cuffs mere seconds from popping off.

His class was always dimly lit, a comfortable aura that made it easy to ease into learning. You could write a 20-page essay on why you enjoyed his class.

He was never dismissive, always listened to his students attentively, and truly valued their thoughts and opinions. He enjoyed shaping young folks' minds and helping them through their way, assisting them in growing and becoming respective, creative individuals.

You never struggled in his class, never had to ask for tutoring sessions. And to be honest, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle a one-on-one with him either way. He was too intimidating, too suffocating.

Whenever he asked the class a question, and you were able to gather your bearings to answer, you could hardly keep yourself from tripping over your words with how intense his gaze was.

Like he was clinging onto every word like a lifeline, his eyebrows raising now and then when your response flowed from your lips, his tongue would poke out the corner of his mouth, nodding along as he listened.

He’d always smile when you finally stumbled through your response, pointing his pen in your direction with a sly grin. 

“Smart girl.” That stupid voice that made your brain dissolve into a useless puddle.

It was never good for your nerves.

But recently, you felt like his material has been getting more difficult. Maybe it was because finals for the semester were approaching, and the work started to get more grueling? Or maybe you were just tired, but his lectures started to blend into watercolor, and the readings he assigned the class started to sound like pig Latin.

Luckily, you weren’t the only one confused, when a girl who sat next to you leaned over while he was talking and whispered to you.

“Is he speaking English right now?”

Today was no different; the stress started to weigh on you as more finals began to close in. Recently, you’d been a bit tight on money, trying your best to save up from the barista job you’d been managing for the past year, but it was starting to fall short.

You had set up a job portfolio the night before in a fit of desperation in hopes of snagging a gig on the side in childcare, just to push you through the last few months of the year. 

The winter chill nipped at your bones, and you always felt demotivated in the cold. The class dragged on, and you could barely keep your thoughts in a straight line as Professor Song droned on. You tried to cling to every word, retain every piece of information, but it all just seemed to slip away like you had butter fingers.

Your notes became sloppy, and your doodles in the margins became more frequent. Everyone in your immediate vicinity seemed just as hopeless, and this must have caught your professors' attention.

He turned from the board, and his face fell from concentrated to a soft sort of concern. He sighed softly and set his pen on the desk, a quiet clatter on the wood surface. This caught your attention, and you raised your head slowly. 

Your eyes locked with his immediately, almost as if he was already trained on you before you raised your gaze. Your eyes dance with one another for a fleeting moment, and something flashes across his face, subtle yet electrifying. Then he’s clearing his throat, ripping his eyes from yours, and swimming over the rest of the lecture room.

He moves away from the board, lifting himself to sit on his desk, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands on his lap.

“Alright, guys, I get it.” The class directs its scattered attention to its professor sitting on his desk, his foot shaking back and forth softly. “It's the end of the semester, we’re all tired. Believe me, I’m in the same boat.”

He turns his head to a framed picture on his desk, a candid photo of him and his young daughter celebrating her birthday at the aquarium. “My daughter keeps whining at me about how hard her coloring sheets are. She can’t for the life of her understand the difference between indigo and violet.”

This pulls a warm laugh out of everyone, and you can’t help but join in. Professor Song never stops talking about his daughter; he loves her with all his heart. He has her many scribbled arts around his lecture room, photos of her on his desk, and her pipe cleaner flowers displayed proudly in the far right corner. 

You tap your pen against your notebook rhythmically, and you don’t catch the way his eyes sweep over your face while the laughter dies down. “Everyone’s running on fumes, and I’m sure you’ve heard it a thousand times, but this is important. We’ll pull through this last month, and we’ll have a few weeks off to laze away, and it’ll be well earned.  Right?”

The class nods in agreement, and Professor Song smiles in acknowledgment. “So, do me a beautiful favor, and stay with me a little longer while we get through this, okay? You all have been doing phenomenal this year, let's keep it up til the end, yeah?”

Everyone perks up at the encouraging words, and you find your energy slowly creeping its way back into your blood. Just enough to get through the day, but not enough to prepare for the shitshow that was to come.

Two thousand weekly.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times and drinking some water to be sure you weren’t hallucinating the mail in your inbox.

You had arrived back home after dragging yourself through the last bits of Professor Song’s class, leaving with mostly full note pages and a renewed vigor to pull through this last semester.

The portfolio you had set up on the nanny website already had a response, and quite an unexpected one. A generous offer for pay, a part-time position as a babysitter for a young girl, age 6. Two thousand per week for 6 months, free meals provided, flexible schedule. It was almost too good to be true. The email didn’t go into too much detail, only offering further information if you shot back a response expressing your interest.

It was everything you needed and more, but one thing was making you hesitant. One small, coincidental detail.

Regards, M. Song.

Signed at the bottom of the email, like colorful barbed wire.

It had to be a coincidence. There was no way it was him. 

Song is a common last name; you were sure it had to be somebody else. No matter, it was too good to pass up, and you found yourself drafting your email before you gave it any more rational thought. If it were him, it would be dangerous. You’d be deep in enemy territory.

You sent the email expressing enthusiastic interest in the position, and slammed your laptop shut so hard you thought you heard a key fly off. You buried your face in your hands and groaned aloud into the darkness of your bedroom, trying to shake the weird feeling blossoming in your chest.

It had to be a coincidence. There’s no way your literary professor saw the hundreds of capable babysitting portfolios to choose from and decided to pick yours. There’s no way you posted it yesterday, and he just so happens upon a day later and immediately makes his decision.

There was no way he was offering so much money for something as simple as babysitting.

There was no way you’d be able to go through this and maintain a professional, normal attitude.

Not even 10 minutes later, your phone chimes, the blinding light illuminating your dark room, therefore sealing your fate. You hadn’t even clicked the notification, skimming over the email banner before mentally checking out.

Dear Miss L/N,

     Thank you for expressing your interest in the position. I would be delighted-

And that was it. You eventually gathered enough courage to open the email. It gave you all the information you needed, a scheduled time to meet at his home to set up the payroll, and introduced you to his daughter. Work out kinks and settle into the position.

Mr. Song doesn’t return home until after dark, well after 9 pm. Your shifts start at 3 pm every day for the next six months. Sundays are guaranteed days off, and he shall keep you posted on future days off if available. You had mentioned in your email that you were a student, so availability might fluctuate depending on school.

His response?

“You mentioned you were a student; I am well aware of this fact. Do not worry, I will ensure that your studies will remain unaffected.”

An insane thing to say, by the way. 

It was definitely him. Regardless, you would find out in due time when you finally meet him at his home, and solidify what was to come, which can only be described as unmentionable.

-

His big warm hand encased yours, swallowing it whole so effortlessly. Calloused fingertips brush against the pulse that bounces in your wrist, and you barely keep your breath from hitching. His thumb runs over your knuckles, and you swallow a weird noise.

“Thank you for taking the position, darling. You’re saving me a hell of a lot of time.” That's stupid, grin, toothy, and wide. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the crows' feet making their grand appearance. The streaks of silver that flow through his dark hair like a wave you’ve never noticed until now, so close it was hard to miss.

“Of course… Mr. Song, thank you for considering me.” You weren’t sure whether you should call him professor or a different honorific outside of the lecture room, but he did not correct you, so you assumed it was the right choice.

You caught yourself that Saturday morning paying extra attention to your hair, curling your lashes a little higher, reapplying layers of lip gloss until it looked like you’d been making out with honeycomb. 

Throwing together a cute outfit to make a good “first impression.” You couldn’t believe yourself, but once you were out the door and in your car, it was too late to worry about it now.

Your nerves were alight as you made your way to his address. You nearly saw him every goddamn day, but of course, this was different. 

His residence was a rustic western style house, furnished with well-kept gardens in the front yards and a freshly painted porch and patio. A cute, homey place that somehow just made him all the more attractive. 

You pulled into his driveway, taking your keys out of the ignition and giving your body a moment to relax. A few deep breaths and one life saver mint later, and you were stepping out with your purse in your clutches and your anxiety written all over your poor face.

You hadn’t even noticed until you raised your gaze from your feet, but there he stood. On his front porch, that white blazer with his rolled-up sleeves, no tie today. Black slacks and his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are leering at you.

You stopped in place when you saw him, and his expression never changed. A sort of scrutiny on his brow as he watched you step out of your car, dare you say borderline predatory, but you certainly wouldn’t want to set anything into motion by manifestation. Surely not.

You lift your hand and give a curt, polite wave. Then his brows are falling, his lips are curling, and he’s offering a warm, gentle smile.

“(Name.) Good to see you, I’m glad you could make it.” Mingi’s own voice booms over his front yard to your ears, and you force your feet to unstick from the driveway pavement and continue to walk to his home.

You walk up the steps with only slightly shaky legs, face-to-face with him. “Of course, sorry if I’m a bit early.”

He smiles wider, yet softer. “It’s perfectly fine, I’d prefer you be early rather than late. I admire your punctuality; you’ve always been like that.”

You’ve always been like that.

You try not to let the praise get to your head, and you barely miss the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he catches the way your shoulders hunch slightly at his words, and your fingers squeeze the straps of your purse just a little tighter.

“Well, let’s not just stand around. She’s excited to meet you.” Mr. Song turns and pushes open his front door, standing in front of it to hold it open. “After you.”

You smile nervously and slowly walk inside. He watches every step you take as you brush past him, your shoulder just barely grazing his lower chest, there not quite being enough room between him and the door frame to give you a spacious entry. His cologne hits your nose as you walk by, and you stop yourself from inhaling deeply as you plant your feet on his foyer floor, listening as he shuts the door and clicks the lock.

You were in enemy territory, and you had never felt more vulnerable in your life. 

Immediately, you were tripping over toys, and you nearly fell backwards as a little girl came running up you, picking up one of the dolls you nearly busted your ass on and handed it to you.

“Okay and scene!” You can’t help the smile that breaks on your face, the confusion of being suddenly thrown into a scene, evident.

“Wait, what’s happening-“

The little girl is carrying another doll, and she shakes it back and forth as she begins to speak. “Where have you been? You’re late again!” She pouts furiously as she points to the doll in your hand, and you know that's your time to shine.

“I’m not late,” you speak through the doll in your grasp, kneeling to sit at eye level with the girl. “In fact, I’m right on time!” You motion the doll’s arm to point at an invisible watch on her plastic wrist, and you practically see the girl light up over you playing along with her.

You pay no attention to Mingi, who stands behind you, watching you interact with his daughter, a small smile on his face. You play along happily, and he can see how much his daughter has already taken a liking to you. But before she can drag you into another scene, Mingi is clearing his throat.

He crouches down and with his strong arms he scoops her up, and little giggles flow from her as he lifts her into his hold. “You little monster!” He grumbles playfully, the sweetest smile on his lips as litters her face in fleeting kisses, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ punctuating each one he landed.

He swings her back and forth like she was on a carnival ride and he laughs morph into joyous squeals, the smile on Mingi’s face nothing short of beautiful.

You watch in awe and admiration, how sweet he is with her and it makes something in your heart twist.

When she reaches her little hand out and pulls on some of his hair, his smile drops a little and hers only widens.

“Ouch- okay, no hair pulling sweetpea we know this.” He gently sets her down, not without the theatrics akin to a landing airplane.

Once her feet touch the ground she mumbles out an adorable sorry, and you swear you see Mingi’s heart melt.

“Alright, lovebug, you can give her more acting lessons later. Daddy needs to talk to her for a second, okay?”

The little girl frowns as you sheepishly hand her back her doll. “Don’t worry, we can play a lot more once I’m all settled in. I promise.” You smile, and she returns it, taking her doll back and bounding away to the couch in the living room, resuming her little roleplay on her own.

You stand up slowly and watch her skip away, somewhat avoiding turning around to see Mr. Song. When you finally turn, his back is to you as he’s begun walking to the kitchen. You follow, nearly tripping over toy cars and plush animals again.

He stops in front of the kitchen island, pouring you and himself a small glass of water out of a filter. He sets the cup on the countertop with a clink, sliding towards you as you stand a few feet away from him, trying to keep as much distance as is deemed appropriate.

When the silence stretches for much too long, you pick up your cup and take a big sip, hoping the cool water will calm your nerves. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“She likes you a lot already.” He states, raising his eyes over and glancing at the back of the couch.

A shy smile graces your face as you take another sip. “You could tell that from such a small interaction, Professor?” You glance up at him over the rim of your glass, and you don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise, and his face shows nothing short of amusement.

“Well, she is my kid after all, and I know her pretty well.” He takes a sip from his own glass, tapping his metal-clad fingers against the checkered walls of the cup. “And I don’t see why she wouldn’t like you.”

Of course, you were going to ask, what the hell does he mean by that? You smile, more confident now, setting your glass on the countertop and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do tell, what's there to like?” Something about the entire conversation just felt… informal. You’ve never spoken to him outside of the lines of education or questions about exams. This type of talk was far beyond your teacher-student boundaries, even if it can be considered as fleeting small talk.

This makes him laugh, and you feel your lips twitch at the melodic sound. You try not to smile any harder than you already are.

“Asking for lip service now, are we (Name)?” His playful tone of voice carried a much lighter cadence than the authoritative tone he held in the classroom. You tried not to notice that tattoo that was peeking through his sheer white dress shirt.

“No, Mingi.” You reply just as playfully, and you find yourself rubbing your lips together, grounding yourself with the feeling of the layer of lip gloss on your lips. 

His eyes linger on your mouth for just a fraction of a second, hardly noticeable. They trail up the side of your face, and his gaze stops on your eyes. Something in his eyes changes, a kind of shift that makes your heart stop for a moment. His jaw flexes and fingers twitch as he moves to cross his own arms.

“That’s Mr. Song, or 'sir' to you, young lady.” His eyebrows set hard, and you feel your stomach drop at the sudden change in attitude. He looks down at you like you’re small, like you don’t deserve his respect. As much as you’d like to push it, he controls your grades and ultimately your future. And passing up on such a gratuitous opportunity with this job simply to act a little too familiar with your professor would be borderline idiotic.

His eyebrows raise, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, urging your confirmation of his command. “Understand?”

You swallow and nod your head politely. “Yes, sir.” You quickly grab your glass again and down the rest of the water, taking a moment to gather yourself, because as depraved as it was. That entire interaction made you god-awful wet.

“We may not be in class, but I’m still your elder.” He turns around and walks past you, a trail of his cologne passing beneath your nose and fogging your brain. You have to crane your neck to watch the back of his head as he walks away, the sheer size of him dizzying.

“If you don’t mind me asking.” You force from your throat, keeping your eyes on the floor as you speak. “Was there any reason you chose me specifically?”

He snorts, endearingly so. “Do I need a reason?” Like it was a dumb question, even though there are no such things in his words. “I just decided to hire you. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Well, there were plenty of people who were just as capable, if not more so-“

He interrupts you with a whistle and a loud snap of his fingers. “What did I say?” He leans his head backward like he was annoyed, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he speaks under a low breath. “God, always so inquisitive.”

You stop from letting your mouth drop open in surprise. “If you have any implications swimming around that pretty brain of yours, forget it. You’re a capable girl, aren’t you?” He lowers his gaze to you, waiting expectantly for you to reply.

You nod and pick a piece of dust off your shirt. “Of course.” You reply in a small voice, but Mingi clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Say it out loud. C’mon.” You take a small breath and sigh quietly.

“I am capable.”

Mingi smiles and turns away from you once more. “Beautiful. Save the rest of the questions after we set up your payroll.”

He finishes, and he raises his hand and brings up his middle and ring finger, motioning to you in a “come hither” motion, a movement so slow that it seemed dizzyingly suggestive.

“Come now, while we’re still young.” You force your feet to move and follow him further into the house, passing his daughter as she plays on her own world on the couch, completely oblivious to the strange tension that lingered between her father and her new babysitter.

Mingi was intense, authoritative. He knew how he wanted things to be and made sure everyone else stayed in their lane. And you had a weird lingering feeling that nothing good was to come out of stepping that home privacy boundary. 

But hey, two thousand was two thousand. And maybe you were being greedy, but something much more than money was keeping you from using your fucking brain and getting out of dodge.

He was not good for you, and god he knew it. You both knew it.  But if the heat you felt in your lower belly and the racing of your heart were anything to go by, the gut instinct that told you not to walk into the wolf’s den was for sure one that was meant to be ignored.

After a smooth process of connecting your bank account, printing you a house key, and an extensive tour of the home, he sent you home with a thank-you bonus of a few hundred dollars and your schedule for the following week. Monday through Friday, at 3 pm, you would arrive at the Song residence. You would see Mingi off for his night classes and tend to his daughter until he arrived home at 10 pm.

He never mentioned a wife, or any kind of spouse. You had assumed they had most likely divorced, you never saw any picture of a woman around the house, and his daughter never mentioned a mother.

You had considered asking him about it, but something inside of you said that would be overstepping a grand boundary that should not be touched.

While you had Mingi’s morning class, he would only be on campus for those two hours before returning home to spend the rest of his day with his daughter, before the evening whisked him away to work once again. So, of course, you would still see him in class.

And it is so much worse now.

And you couldn’t help but feel that he found the whole thing amusing. 

Teaching the class like normal, writing down key points on the board, reading through articles and poems, and helping everyone pick the words apart. You never called him sir in class; it was always Mr. Song or Professor. He asked you to call him sir, no, demanded that you refer to him as such when you visited his home.

So with a slow raise of your hand, to ask a question that truly meant nothing. He paused his writing to look at you, and he moved back around to continue his writing once you had been acknowledged. “Yes, ma’am?” He asks, while he finishes the cursive curl of his letter y.

“You say that symbolism in poetry is entirely up to the reader’s perception, and that we can choose to decipher it any way we see fit. Is that maybe a little too loose in terms of freedom, considering some people might extend their reach of understanding too far to be deemed within the author’s original intentions?”

It was an innocent question, a good one, maybe perhaps a little random. Mingi turns away from the board, ending the sentence he wrote with a heavy period, a loud thunk against the whiteboard. The edges of the blue ink splatter around the punctuation.

“It's as I said,” he begins, eyebrows relaxed as he finds you easily at your desk, rolling your pencil eraser over your bottom lip, a curious glaze of intrigue shadowing your eyes. “While it is entirely up to the reader, most people are smart enough to gather what the poet is trying to convey. Readers can come up with similar conclusions, but maybe with different rounded edges. There will be similarities, but there can also be differences, all because we perceive everything differently as humans.” He quietly adjusts the knot of his tie, the veins in his hand flushing as he moves.

You find your eyes falling to watch his arm move, his biceps struggling under his sleeves. You smile and nod, bringing your pencil down to your chin and tapping it lightly. “Thank you, sir.”

Nobody else catches it; it was so subtle that it wouldn’t have mattered to anyone even if they did. But his hand froze around his necktie, and his fingers twitched. His nose scrunched only slightly, and a sharp, quiet inhale made your skin prickle.

He nods quietly and turns back to the board to continue teaching. “Always with the smart questions.” He murmurs under his breath, and you both clearly knew that the question was about much more than just poetry.

The first day went surprisingly smooth. You arrived at his home early, of course, using your new key to unlock the door and welcome yourself in. His daughter was the first to greet you, running to you and enveloping your legs in a tight hug, her little nails digging into your skin with how hard she held you.

You said hi, all warm smiles and soft tones, only raising your eyes when you feel another pair on you. Standing at the end of the hallway was Mingi, leaning against a doorframe with relaxed ease, his tie loosened and his hair astray. He leaned his head against the white frame, his eyes low as he paid no attention to anything but you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, and all you could feel was pinned. Like he was holding your body down with just his gaze, and it makes your heart kick up.

Then he smirked, a ghost of one if anything. A knowing, small smile that would be easy to ignore if it simply wasn’t him. Before you could say or do anything else, the little girl, whose name you learned was Ami, was dragging you away from the foyer, spewing phrases about new toys and complimenting your punctuality. 

Mingi watches you walk away with his daughter, clasping your hand tight, and your sweet little warm smile returns as you respond to her words with enthusiastic earnestness.

She leads you to the couch, grabs the remote, and asks you to switch on a movie for her.

“Can I borrow your new friend for a second, sweetheart?” Mingi appears behind the back of the couch, his sudden presence nearly startling you out of your skin. He looks down at his daughter with nothing short of pure love, his gaze soft and his tone low and sweet. Ami pouts dramatically and crosses her arms.

Mingi pouts in turn, giving her playful puppy eyes. Then you feel his fingers gently brush the nape of your neck, a slow, gentle caress that was so light it could have been mistaken for a breeze. But it was too warm, too calloused.

“Please?” he whines with a smile, and his daughter rolls her eyes, setting down the remote with a clatter. 

“Okay, Daddy, but bring her back.” Her little voice warms your heart, happy that she's taking a great liking to you. You swallow as you feel his fingers slip away from your nape, and you're standing on wobbly legs to follow him as he begins to walk away.

“I promise I will,” he says, blowing her a little kiss, to which she returns with a bright smile. Mingi is leading you away from the living room, and you follow behind with a sort of muted apprehension, and it feels like you are in school again. Like you were being led away by your teacher to talk about poor behavior.

Once you’re back in the foyer, he turns to you, and his soft, parental smile has fallen into something unrecognizable. 

He pulls a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and hands it to you. “This is your list of things that should be maintained and done while watching her. Keeping the place clean, making sure she eats well. Everything we’ve already discussed.” You take the list and give it a swift once-over, mentally noting the most important things.

You slip it into your own pocket, raising your head to look at him once more, and for just a split second, you swear you caught his gaze lingering on your neck. “If you have any questions, my number is also on that piece of paper. Do not call me, but you can message me.”

You nod silently, and he sighs. “Can we work on your verbal confirmation? Use your words, please.” You can’t help the almost sour look that flashes across your face, and you quickly gather yourself before exaggeratedly dropping into a flashy curtsy.

“Yes, boss, I understand.” You say in a dramatic prim accent, but before you could stand back up straight, you feel his warm, large hand slip beneath your chin, gripping your lower jaw firmly.

He’s lifting you back up, leaning his head down so close that you feel his breath on your neck, his nose just shy of brushing against your ear. Your breath catches, and his sweet scent clouds your senses, and you could feel your knees start to buckle beneath you. Mingi’s hand keeps its firm hold on your chin as he lowers his voice to a heavy, throaty whisper that makes the skin on your temple tingle.

“Try again, and lose the attitude, gorgeous. You know better.” His breath fans over your ear, and you could physically feel the skin of the back of your neck flare warmly. He squeezes the pads of his fingers against the soft flesh of your cheek a little harder, and the heat blooms across your lower jaw at his tense hold, and you nearly melt into his hand. Your own voice drops to a nervous, shaky whisper, and you exhale slowly out of your nose. It was so quiet you could hear the wristwatch on his hand ticking by your ear. 

“Yes… Sir.” You correct yourself quietly, and his hand still doesn’t move. Instead, his thumb gently runs over your cheek, a repeated soothing path like he’s trying to lull you to sleep with his caresses. He leans away from your ear, coming face to face with you once more, his nose mere inches from brushing with yours. So close you can see every strand of silver in his hair, every wrinkle at the corners of his eyes, every freckle, and the remaining five o'clock shadow from where he shaved earlier that morning. He smelled of faded cologne and wintergreen mints, and you could hardly stop your eyelids from fluttering.

His thumb moves over your bottom lip, gently pressing down on it like he was admiring how soft you were, taking a mental note of how easy you melt under him. How all he needed to do to get you to act right was to pet you like you were some kind of puppy.

It felt like an eternal standstill by the time he slipped his hand away from your face, and you could still feel the heat of it across your face. It felt so wrong. And god did you want to feel it again.

He turns and fixes his loose tie, slipping his blazer on and adjusting his watch. He walks away, leaving you standing like a dumb fawn, grinning as he opens the front door, his keys jingling in his hand. “Do behave yourself, while rewards and punishments are not handed out in class, my home is an entirely different story.” 

And with that final note, the door shuts behind him with a click, and you are left in Mingi’s foyer with your heart in your throat and warmth in your stomach, and your entire body thrumming with what can only be described as anticipation.

-

You and Ami got along well, playing with toys and watching television. There was a small spat when you tried to get her to eat her veggies, but after some bribery with a promise of a packet of gummies, she offered up no more fight.

Putting her to bed was no easy feat either, her only surrendering at the promise of a bedtime story. You sent her off to go pick a book, and she came into her bedroom, trotting proudly with the first installment of the Narnia series.

When you dared to question her lengthy decision, she responded with, “Daddy has been reading this to me every night, we’re on chapter 6, he said you could continue reading it to me.”

You quietly roll your eyes, mumbling to yourself as she begins to tuck herself into bed. “Did he now?”

You didn’t complain, and you did find yourself easing into the storytelling, reading with a soft, slow tone to help lull her off to sleep, which didn’t take long, especially after a long day of play.

When her breathing evened, and her head went lazy on her neck, you switched off her lamp and set her stuffed zebra next to her arms and left her room, making sure her rainbow night light in the outlet was on.

You shut her door with a quiet click and sighed to yourself. First night done, now all that was left to do was wait for Mingi to arrive home. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to check the time.

9:03

He was sure to be home anytime soon, so you decided to take the book you were reading with you downstairs. It had pulled you in enough just by that one chapter alone, and you found yourself wanting to read it from the beginning.

Your bare feet padded against the tile floors of the kitchen, the house asleep and silent as you picked a small mandarin out of the fridge. You sat at the kitchen island, gently peeling the citrus fruit as you held the book open with one hand, and began to read.

You found your fingers nimbly peeling the white veins of the orange and dropping them onto the napkin. Engrossed in the book, you slipped slice after slice of mandarin past your lips as you continued to read.

The quiet of his home was so different in comparison to your own. Tucked further towards the countryside, absent from the honking of horns and the screeches of tires. Just the tranquil sound of whistling trees and the occasional creak of the house settling. It was nice, something you could see yourself getting used to.

You weren’t sure how long you had been reading for, and it wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you were ripped from your own little world. You hadn’t even noticed the jingle of keys in the lock. Your orange was long gone; only the shredded peel remained as he walked past the foyer, straight into the kitchen to see you.

He paused for a moment, taking in your peaceful little moment, then smiling to himself as he began to shed his coat and drape it over the kitchen table chair. “You look comfy.” He murmurs, loosening his tie.

You swallow a dry patch in your throat, the whole moment reeking of something inappropriately domestic. The low, warm lighting of the overhead oven light. Mingi quietly gets unready after a long day of work, your eyes catching on the way his muscles flex with every movement he makes.

Unclipping his watch and dropping it into the small wooden bowl on the edge of the counter, uncuffing his dress shirt and rolling his sleeves up once again, the hints of a tattoo you’ve never had the pleasure of fully seeing peeking underneath the white linen.

Running a large hand through his silver streaked hair, the strands falling around his face in an organized mess as he sighs, a deep and heavy sound that makes your thighs clench underneath the island.

You close the book absentmindedly, dropping your gaze to the counter just as he raises his eyes to look at you, and you clear your throat as you move to stand.

“I see you’re reading Narnia. Ami asked you to read it to her?” His voice was so quiet, so lofty, it made your brain fizz. 

You nod. “She ate dinner well, told me she had fun playing with me today. She asked me to read to her, and she was out like a light by the fourth page. It intrigued me, so I decided to give it a gander.”

You raise your head again, gathering your orange peels in your hand and crossing over to the trash can in the corner. Once dropped in the waste, you turned to hand the book back to him. Your arm outstretched, to which he only stood and stared back at you, his eyes dropping over your body in a less than subtle once over.

He finally reaches out and takes the book from you, not without letting his long fingers brush against your knuckles. His two middle fingers slip between the pages, bookmarking the place that you had stopped at. You swallow as he puppy dog ears the page with one hand, before closing the book and setting it on the island.

The muted glow of the oven light shadowed his face in a soft yellow, the rest of him swallowed in the darkness of the home. He was so tall, his body big enough to stand in front of you and effectively block you from being seen by anyone.

“Well, I should be going.” You mutter, nervously wrinkling the corner of your shirt over and over again. “Thank you again.” You nod your head respectfully, and yet neither one of you makes any move.

Mingi doesn’t move; instead, he lifts his head, lowering his eyes to a half-lidded kind of gaze that makes you feel like you were being preyed on. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the unevenness of your breath, the uncertainty in your eyes, the curiosity in the way your fingers twitch at your side.

The unconscious way your tongue wets your bottom lip, the little vein in your neck that only he could notice.

Then he’s stepping forward, slowly, just enough to have you closer. Smell you, smell him. Not too inappropriate, but maybe not professional.

“I should be thanking you, darling.” His hand reaches out, oh so slowly, just enough to give you time to back away if you want. You don’t. His index finger finds a curl at the front of your head, gently twirling it around the tip of his finger, his eyes on yours.

A gaze so warm, so mistakenly hungry, you swore you were hallucinating. He watched you visibly melt, your lip forming into a parted pout, a beckon. A silent ask.

His finger moves away from the curl of your hair, dances along the side of your neck, brushes down with featherlight gentleness against the side of your throat, a tickling sensation that has your body shivering.

His eyebrows knotted together like he was conflicted, like he was battling an inner ache, one that he was holding himself back from showing.

You couldn’t take it. You simply couldn’t. 

Your brain hadn’t caught up to your body, but before you could second-guess yourself, your hands shot out and gripped the collar of his dress shirt, dragging his head down and crashing your lips into his.

No words, no gasp, just a wanton moan that slips past your lips and against his.

Mingi growls from the back of his throat, a sound of sheer surprise, nearly losing his footing underneath him. He rips his head back, his eyes wide and his breathing coming labored.

You freeze, your hands holding nothing but air as he pulls himself away from you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A look of pure fear on your face as you realized he didn’t reciprocate. 

Fuck. Fuck.

A conflicted look flashes across your professor’s face, and he looked like he was about to give you what for. You screwed up.

You immediately open your mouth, ready to spew pathetic attempts at apologies and pleas for forgiveness. But he beats you to it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His gravely voice comes out strained and low, and a painful silence begins to stretch between you two.

Then, he bites his inner cheek, his hand lifts and slips his glasses off his face, all but letting them fall onto the counter, groaning low and sonorous, and he’s on you before you could breathe. 

His hands slip around and grip either side of your waist, a tight, possessive hold as he slots his lips with yours, melting against your mouth like you tasted like a heaven he’d never get into.

His hands roam up and down your waist, his mouth opening and closing against yours, sliding his tongue over yours, and running it over your teeth. Moaning, sighing into your mouth, his eyebrows knit together in nothing short of pure bliss.

Your hands find his shoulders, your neck beginning to hurt from having to crane your head up to kiss him. All heat behind your tongues, warmth and wetness against each other as you feel a thin trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.

Then he’s lifting you, picking you up off the ground, and dropping you on your ass on the kitchen island. Merely eye level with him, he kisses you deeper, shoving his tongue further down your throat, tilting his head to the side to completely devour you. 

Your hands drag down the front of him, your palms flat against his chest, whimpering against his lips in tandem with his starved movements. A quiet “baby” is murmured around your tongue, and your entire body erupts into consuming flames.

His hands slip down and find either of your thighs, spreading them pretty and wide as he slots his lower body between them, pushing his body closer to your between your legs.

His hand moves back up and cups the back of your head, the other trailing up the front of your body and finding a grounding home at the base of your neck, pulling your head further into him as he takes like the greedy man he was.

Kissing the college girl on the counter as she tasted like bourbon, squeezing your flesh like it was keeping him sane, melting at the soft, needy moans that flowed down his throat from your reactions to his touch.

It was a breathless, taboo kind of lust that only people sick in the head can get a kick out of. And if this makes Mingi a sick man, then so fucking be it. He finds himself lost in the sweetness of your lips, the arch in your back. His hand trails down the side of your waist, warm and big as he finds the flesh of your thigh again, squeezing and pressing the softness, moaning at how smooth your skin feels in comparison to his rough hands.

His hand slips up the leg of your shorts, and warmth blooms on your skin, your body shivers as you lean further into him, your kisses turning needy, dangerously feral.

It’s your whiny, low moan that nearly undoes him. And the way your hands slide up to help further loosen his tie. But while he may not be a good man, he’s not a bad one either. With a type of restraint only a soldier could have, Mingi pulls away from your shiny, swollen lips, a thin trail of saliva between you both snapping silently.

Your heavy breaths mingle together, and he rests his forehead against yours, the hand on your neck slowly sliding away, and his other hand moving from your bare thigh to firmly place them flat on either side of your spread thighs, loosely caging your body against the island.

You say nothing, only fighting to catch your breath as your dizzy brain struggles to catch up. He looks down at the floor, the bulge in his pants loud and proud and fucking painful.

With a deep sigh, he turns away, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand as he mutters a deep “fuck” beneath his breath.

You slowly crawl off the counter, realizing that you need to go. Now.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Min- uh... Professor Song. Sir-“You stutter over your words, a foggy layer of need clouding your mind after having been kissed like he was trying to eat you alive.

Mingi seethes, inhaling sharply as he raises a hand to get you to keep quiet.

“Stop- goddamnit. Sweetheart, don’t call me ‘sir’ right now unless- unless you want me to fuck you against that wall.” You swallow, and it takes everything in your power not to get on your knees and beg for just that.

He could practically smell your hesitation, and it nearly made his entire body erupt into a muted shiver. You nibble on your bottom lip, he could see the way you nervously shake, and you open your mouth to respond, but he just knew what you were going to say, and he did not need to hear it right now.

“Oh, babygirl, you shouldn’t want that.” He ignores your pretty little glazed-over eyes and your frizzy hair that he messed up with his own two hands.

The addicting way you held onto him with your smaller hands, arching your back into him and keening into his touch, crying out as it hurt for every second he let you breathe.

“And neither should I.” He mumbles like he was trying to convince himself too.

Mingi massages his upper jaw, exhaling heavily out of his nose before he turns away from you again, truly believing that if he looked at you one more time, he wouldn’t be able to compose himself. Forty-something years old, and one of his students is making him feel things he hasn’t felt since high school. 

“Go home.” He commands, his bassy, breathless voice sending a shockwave straight between your legs. When you don’t immediately move, Mingi clenches his jaw and slightly turns his neck, giving you a glimpse of the turmoil on his face. 

“Now.” He bites out, and before you could form another thought, your body was moving.

You grab your things off the living room coffee table and slip out of the house, speeding off to your car and pulling off into the cricket-filled night, confused, turned on, and conflicted.

It was only the first day, and the walls were already crumbling. 

-

The following week was torture. Dragging yourself out of bed after being kept up all night with ludicrous dreams, dreams of what could’ve happened if you two didn’t stop. Panties sticky and eyes heavy, you crawl out of bed and dread having to face him every day.

It went the same every day; you arrived, maybe a little later than usual. You avoided every look he shot your way, and you never asked any questions. Just listened and took notes, silently. And when it was time to watch his daughter, he’d be out the front door by the time your car pulled into the driveway, walking past you in silence as you effectively traded places.

You both knew it was for your own good, to keep whatever had been brewing between you two at bay, even if it was never explicitly stated. You had hardly said a word to your professor since that first day. But your eyes said everything.

His, too, god if you both couldn’t be subtle. He’d sit at his desk, watching you click away at your laptop, your leg bouncing beneath the table as you nibbled on your nail. He imagined things about you, things that made him have to adjust his pants before he stood to continue teaching.

And when he arrived home early? Fuck it was even worse. He’d quietly sneak in the front door and catch you and Ami on the couch, her head lying on her lap with her blanket tight in her grasp.

You read to her in a soothing, quiet voice, and gently, your hand stroked the top of her head, playfully brushing your fingers over her face like you were trying to convince her to close her eyes, all with a beautiful smile on your face.

Your pretty pout, your mothering voice, your frizzy hair, and your soft body. God, it makes him so hard it hurts. That night, he announced himself and offered to take Ami off to bed himself, and by the time he made it downstairs, you were already in your car and pulling out of the driveway. It was better this way anyway, Mingi would tell himself. But better for whom? And for what?

Why was this so wrong?

His morale was beginning to chip away, and with each passing hour, each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off of you. And he could tell you felt the same. Your lingering looks and the way your thighs would clench when your gazes met in the lecture room.

Saturday night. You did not go to class that day; therefore, you did not see him. But you would have to later. He always travels to campus on Saturday night to get any extra work done. A workaholic, you called him once. And it was true.

So when you arrived at his front door once again, you tried with every bone in your body to act normal. Unlocking the entrance, you walked inside the now familiar home and stopped in your tracks when you noticed him. Standing in the hallway entrance, like he was waiting for you.

His eyes are low, and his body seems tense. Wearing a form-fitting black dress shirt today, the top two buttons undone. Something more casual for the weekend. A small silver necklace with a dog tag pendant disappeared beneath the collar, and you could see the print of the tag through his shirt. His hair was messier, and his glasses were clasped loosely in his hand.

You breathe quietly, then he's walking towards you. Just as you think he’s going to stop, he walks right past you and reaches for his watch in the little brown bowl. “Ami is down for a nap; if she’s not up by five, go ahead and rouse her.”

He slips on the timepiece, then slides his glasses onto his face, letting them sit low on the bridge of his nose. You nod in acknowledgment, and he's already made his way to the front door, his car keys jingling on his fingers.

Just as you think he’s going to leave, he pauses, his hand hovering above the knob.

“And keep your hands out of my liquor cabinet, young lady.” Now that makes your heart stop. You may have indulged one night after you put Ami to bed, just a couple shots, nothing too concerning. But he had noticed, of course, he had.

When you don't reply, he turns back to you and raises his eyebrows in a scrutinizing question. “Next time, have enough manners to ask. That stuff is not cheap, sweetheart.” The pet name had a bite to it, and you can’t help but want to bite back.

He turns, opens the door, and takes one step outside.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll ask politely next time.” You speak the words with a ghost of a moan enveloping them, and you could see the way his shoulders tense and his hands squeeze the doorknob harder. 

Mingi inhales sharply and keeps his head forward. The silence stretches so long and thin you think time might have frozen. And when he speaks next, it sends electricity through your blood, and you can't deny the way you feel your skin tingle.

He laughs, a slow, soft chuckle. “Keep that shit up, (Name),” he challenges, adjusting the straps of his watch in one swift movement. “I can be a bad man if you need me to.” Then the door is shutting behind him, a loud click that rivals the pounding of your heart in your ears.

The house is silent once again, and you are left alone with your racing thoughts and a really, really stupid fantasy in your mind that makes you feel like the nastiest bitch on earth.

-

The bottoms of your feet felt like they were burning, and the floors of his house were frigid. The heat of your body rivaled the still quiet of the house, Ami put to bed, leaving you as the only soul awake inside.

Mingi would be home any minute. And it was at this moment that you needed to make a decision. You weren’t sure what you were going to do, or rather, you weren’t sure what he was going to do.

Or what he wanted to do. 

You felt trapped in a home with no lock, like there was no escape. The windows were unbreakable, and the walls were too thick. You were a trapped animal who did not want to leave in the first place.

You could argue that you were a dumb, naive little girl who didn’t know her way in the world, who couldn’t pick up on the signs that her professor wanted to fold her in half and show her what it felt like to be ruined by a real man.

You’d be such a liar, because that’s the one thing that you wanted. You were stupid for wanting this. And Mingi wholeheartedly believed that.

He believed that your wanting him was complete ignorance of consequences, turning a blind eye to plenty of boys who were perfect for a sweet girl such as yourself.

Choosing a man, one that would not care how much you cried those pretty tears, a man that would fuck you until you weren’t able to tell where you ended and he began.

And it was taking everything in his power as he climbed into his car after work that night to not drive himself off the bridge as he drove. Because that would be the sole and only way to stop himself from pouncing on you as soon as he stepped through the front door.

You lie on his bed. In his room. Invading his space without a care in the world as you took in his abode. Neat, clean-smelling, suffocating. Being in there felt like you couldn’t move a muscle without the walls closing in on you.

He strictly told you his room was off limits, that you had no business in there. He would come home, and he would find you in there, the doe on the wrong edge of the forest. And he would hunt you then and there, because you stepped into his territory, and the rules were painted in red on his sheets.

When Mingi first stepped foot into the house that night, he was surprised to find you missing from your usual place at the kitchen island. Reading a book, having a snack. Waiting for him so politely.

You weren’t in the living room, you weren’t in Ami’s room. The guest room, either. Were you hiding from him? He sighed and set his briefcase on the kitchen table, loosening his tie with a groan and setting his watch in the wooden bowl. 

You could hear him from upstairs, the familiar sounds of him getting unready. You shifted in his sheets and sat up straight, straining your ears to listen for him. 

Footsteps, the clack of the metal plates beneath his shoes, resonated throughout the house like gunfire. The sounds of them ascending the stairs, before the silence of his footfalls as he hit the carpet. He was upstairs.

Immediately, you began to second-guess your decision to be in here. Your choice to take this job. Hell, your choice to take his class to begin with. It was all too risky, too grey. 

Silence again, and you could only feel your heart beating in your ears.

“I sure hope you’re not in there, doll.” His voice was so much closer that you could see his shadow through the crack beneath the door. His voice penetrated the walls of his room like a dark kind of fire, and it rattled your bones.

He could hear you. Hear you shift your weight on his sheets after he addressed you. He could hear you stand, hear you walk to the door, and stop in front of it like you were scared to walk any further.

“You’re not supposed to be in my room, you know better.” His tone was tinged with a disappointed, disciplinary note. Mingi teases you by lightly shaking the doorknob, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Why were you so nervous? You had no idea.

You know better. One of his favorite things to say to you. It was true after all. You do know better, but it doesn’t mean you acted like it.

Mingi wouldn’t admit it. Not to you, not to himself either. But he was having so much fun with you. You awakened this dangerous excitement in him that made him want to make all the wrong choices.

He wanted to bend you over his knee and punish you for affecting him the way you did. He wanted to bury his fingers deep in your hair and pull like he was trying to steer you about at his discretion while he worked you inside and out.

Mingi wanted to lay your body out and make you cum so many times you’d have to drop out of his class because every time you laid eyes on him, you would still feel him in your belly.

You made him feel alive, and at his age, that was a dangerous thing.

When you didn’t respond to him, he lowered his voice to a small, gentle coax, like he was trying to convince you he was no threat. “Listen, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble.” It was like he was using his dad voice on you, and you hated that it made you freeze and your heart flutter.

“I just want to talk to you. So are you going to come out of my room? Or am I going to have to come get you myself?”

Your hand hovered over the knob, and just as you dropped it to twist it open, you stopped. Your brain reeled in your skull, and you backed away from the door with small, quiet steps.

When Mingi realized you wouldn’t be opening the door, he couldn’t help but smile. So typical of someone so young and fresh-blooded like you.

You wanted to be found, you wanted to be desired, you wanted to be chased. You wanted Mingi to open that door and make you regret your decision not to listen to him. 

You didn’t use your manners and ask with your big girl words, but don’t worry, he’d come in there and set you straight.

Just as you were starting to second-guess yourself, the knob twists, and the door makes no sound. No creak, no squeal on the hinges. Just a silent, slow invitation. The warm light of the stairwell flooded the floor of the dark bedroom, like a spill of orange oil. He stepped in, reached back, and shut the door closed once more with a muted click, and darkness shrouded the room again.

The silence stretched as he stalked towards you; with every step he took, you took one back.

With every step he removed something. His shoes came first, then he reached up and slipped his glasses off his nose, setting them on the dresser he passed by.

His tie was next, his big veiny hands untying it gracefully and wrapping it around the palm of his hand like a leash, teasingly, before he let it hit the floor.

One by one until you were backed against the wall by his headboard. His smell surrounded you like mustard gas, his body shadowed over you like a monster, and his eyes pierced through the dark like a hunter. You barely contained your trembling once he was close enough to touch, close enough to melt into.

His big, rough hands find your wrists, gently gripping them and sliding his palms up your inner arms, over your shoulders, to the back of your neck. He cupped your nape like he was trying to cradle your head from injury, so gentle and so loving. 

He squeezed softly, stepping further into you, pressing his body against yours, molding your front with his. His head craned down, and he maneuvered your neck to train your eyes on him. In the dark, everything felt more intense. His touch on your neck burned, the way his thumbs stroked along the edges of your jaw, and his blunt fingernails scraped against your nape.

He inhaled deeply, like he was trying to calm himself. 

“Asking for permission really isn’t your style is it?” He spits out the words like a reprimand, and he could feel you shiver under his touch when he said it. You had tears in your eyes, you looked like you had just dropped your lollipop, and you wanted to cry. You were so pretty.

You felt him everywhere, in your ribcage and in your head; he smelled so good. The silver in his hair glimmered from the lamp in the far corner. You heard a roll of thunder in the distance that sounded like Mingi’s moans. The onpour of rain that hit the roof like a broken television.

He looked so beautiful in the dark.

“We can fix that.”

While one hand remained on your neck, the other slid away, along your jaw, up the front of your throat, until you felt his fingers prod against your pouted lips. You opened with zero hesitation, and he slid his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, laying them flat on your tongue. 

Oh, so slowly, he glides his fingers in and out of your pretty little mouth, pushing just far enough against the back of your tongue to make the tears in your eyes finally fall. “Such a nasty, pretty baby.” His eyes fell like he was entranced by you, your compliance, and the way you shook like a deer. His eyebrows knit together like he was trying to memorize you, everything about you.

He presses his fingers up, and your canines gently sink into the flesh, and it makes his skin tingle. Back down across your tongue, breaching the back of your mouth, gagging around him with a sad little choke.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth, and you hardly notice the saliva that connected to him, with how you could not pull your eyes away from his face. With a patience that drives you both mad, he trails his hand down the front of your body, over the swell of your breasts beneath your shirt, down to the waistband of your shorts.

He presses his hand at the back of your neck harder, forcing your forehead to collide with his. Nowhere to run as he slips his hand into your shorts.

“You wanna be nasty?” he whispers against your lips, and you catch yourself nodding. You didn’t even mean to, but he finds it so amusing.

Your entire body jerks when you feel his wet fingertips slide beneath your panties and brush over your lips, lifting the slightest bit, finding your clit with such quick ease you could hardly believe it.

Your hands shoot up and fist the front of his shirt, and your eyelids widen then flutter as he presses against that sensitive bundle of nerves, a gentle press and prod as he circles against your clit with teasing intent.

When Mingi watched you practically melt at the simplest of his touches, he felt the confessions start to rear at the backs of his teeth. The urge to tell you everything you may or may not want to hear.

His breath ghosts over your parted lips, his fingers making mind-numbing work of your clit, rotating movement and pressurized strokes that made your thighs shake around his wrist. With a deep breath, he pressed his lips to yours, slipping his thick tongue into your mouth and groaning down your throat.

His fingers claw at the back of your neck, tracing intimate patterns into your mouth, as his fingers dance away from your clit, and gently he prods at your dripping entrance. He coats his fingers in your arousal, and he presses his thigh between your legs to spread you further for him.

“You’re such a pretty little thing.” He whispers into your mouth, and you gasp against him when he slowly fills your soaked cunt with one thick finger, and you feel your eyes roll when he presses so deep and curls up just right. He circles the pad of his finger against that spongy spot, and he purrs into your mouth when your hands on his shirt tighten even more.

“I drive myself crazy thinking about you at night.” Slow, deep come-hither motions inside of you that had your breath coming in broken shudders. “I’d think about kissing you silly, holding you down, playing with you, having that smart mouth of yours moaning for me instead of giving me lip.”

You shiver as he slips a second finger inside of you, a slight stretch that had your knees buckling, but he kept you up by the back of your neck, fully pushing his body against yours and holding you still against his bedroom wall. You moan whiny and pathetic as he slips his thumb up and gently circles it against your clit, all the while his fingers keep curling nice and deep inside you.

“Would you like that?” He murmurs, pulling away from your lips and gently kissing below your ear, breathing lowly against the side of your neck. Your skin shivers as his voice brushes over your ear, and you can hardly control the way your body responds to him so effortlessly, like he has an invisible leash on you.

You nod, muttering out a pathetic ‘yes.’ Mingi pressed the tip of his nose against your neck and pressed his lips against your skin so you could feel them move when he talked. “Words, sweet girl. Haven’t I already told you this?”

It was hard to form words while he was fingerfucking you so well, so deep it was making your stomach cave in, but the need for more outweighed everything else. “Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, and you felt your chest flutter when he groaned lowly against your ear, a guttural, primal sound that had you clenching around his fingers.

He leans away from your neck with a fleeting kiss, moving his hand from the back of your neck around to the front. Squeezing at the base of your throat, his fingers pressing on those sensitive, soft spots on the side that started making your eyes darken at the corners. His fingers pressed harder, deeper, coaxing inside of you with purpose that was making you go insane with bliss.

Your hands frantically grasped at anything you could, his wrist, his shirt, his belt, anything you could to ground yourself as he pushed you towards that orgasm. He held your throat nice and tight, and you were choking on moans as he fucked you with his thick fingers, and he breathed heavily against your lips. The grip on your neck kept your head in place for him, and as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head, he pressed against those soft spots a little harder.

“Eyes, darling, eyes,” he commands in a breathless moan, and you tear your eyes from the back of your head to look at him, and it nearly undoes you. His fingers are relentlessly curling deep in your pussy, his big warm hand squeezing your throat just tight enough to make your body feel all fuzzy. His dark, begging eyes make your stomach clench, his guiding, baritone voice making your whimpers slip out involuntarily.

“You wanna cum?” He whines against your lips, just lightly loosening his grip on your neck to allow you to respond. “Ask me nicely.”

“Yes, fuck- please…” You moan hoarsely, and Mingi takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

“So you do have manners.” He teases, his thumb brushing upwards against your clit as the grip on your throat tightens once more. “Cum then, baby. Let it go, make a mess for me.” The corners of your vision bleed into something dark, and he lowers his mouth to take your lips with his again, moaning softly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Come on, come on….” he barely whispers into the kiss, and you cannot deny him even if you tried. His fingers never cease, only slowing as he does his very best to prolong your orgasm like some kind of torture method. His fingers curl and prod, rolling inside of you as your orgasm rocks your body, a feeling so intense you feel like you are shattering from the inside out.

“Thats it, that's it. Don’t stop.” He keeps kissing you, fucking your cunt with his fingers, squeezing your throat just hard enough you feel like you might have been on the brink of passing out. 

Mingi rides you through it, the restraint in his movements starting to slip away the more he sees of you. His hand on your throat moves away and slips beneath your shirt, up and over your smooth stomach, around to the warm skin of your waist. Up until his hand slips beneath your bra and cups the swell of your breast. So soft beneath his calloused palms, he finds that he can’t stop his fingers inside of you, massaging your chest and continuing to fingerfuck you through the overstimulation.

“Wait-” you whine out, interrupted by your own moans. Mingi reaches behind your back and finds the clasp of your bra with more surprising ease. It falls loose beneath your shirt, and he maneuvers your shirt over your head. He catches your surprise, and it only makes his cock twitch at your sweet expression.

“I’m a grown man, (Name).” He speaks against your cheek, slipping the straps of your bra down your arms until it falls onto his floor. “None of this is new to me, baby.” Finally, he slips his fingers out of your cunt, and the slick sound it made was embarrassing. He gives you no time to quell on it as he slides his fingers into his mouth and cleans your mess off him with a hungry moan.

His other hand makes quick work of the buttons of his shirt. One by one, unclipping the silver buttons until it's completely open. As he reaches for his belt, the clank of the metal makes your thighs clench. He cocks his head to the side, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Lie down,” he instructs, as he undoes his belt. The dark of the room shrouds his face, and a loud rumble of thunder rolls, much closer this time. You can hardly move at first, your eyes trailing down his body. Toned, the grey and black happy trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his pants is tantalizing.

You swallow and slowly sit on the edge of the bed, but Mingi doesn’t give you the chance to lie back on your own. Once he loosens his belt, he’s leaning over you and caging you in. His hands find your waist as he inches you further up the bed and pushes you onto your back. You stare at the dog tag on his necklace that swings back and forth as he sets you up how he wants. 

His thighs, thick and strong, cage either side of your legs as he leans down, his hands massaging up your sides like he was trying to soothe you to sleep. He kisses between the valley of your breasts, down your chest, and along your stomach, all the while his hands make their way further down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing you with his fingers slipping beneath them as he worships your body.

“So soft.” He mumbles between kisses as he slips your shorts down your legs and off onto his floor. “So pretty, so sweet.” 

When his fingers hook on your panties, he moans and nibbles on the flesh of your stomach, and your entire body tenses as he slips off the final piece of clothing. 

Down your legs, off your feet, and onto the floor. He’s quick to sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his big, strong arms around your lower waist and pulling you to the edge of the bed, just enough to where your ass nearly hangs off.

He signals you with his hands, making a grabbing motion. You watch and slowly give your hands to him, and he laces his fingers with yours and holds your hands down against your abdomen.

Your thighs hang over his broad shoulders, his face inches away from your dripping cunt, and Mingi’s eyes bore into yours as he places a soft, gentle kiss against your mound.

You whimper in anticipation, and his hands squeeze yours harder, your limbs twitching at his pinning gaze.

“You want my mouth, honey?” He teases, blowing a stream of cold air against you, your thighs twitching around his head. 

“Fuck… please?” You beg lowly, and he gently lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, splitting your lips with a low laugh. When you jerk at the feel of his warm tongue, he tugs your hands harder against your stomach and trails his tongue up to circle your clit.

“Stop squirming, and take it for me.” He opens his mouth and takes your sensitive nub into his mouth, running his tongue over it and sucking it like he’s been deprived for months. Which technically wasn’t a lie. He had dreams of your taste, dreamed of the reactions he could drag out of you with his mouth.

Your moans come out high-pitched and cracked, his warm mouth working your poor pussy out like his favorite meal. Obscene, sloppy noises as he fucks you open with his mouth. Detaching from your clit and burying himself between your thighs even further. His nose nudges the nerves while his tongue slips inside of you. Tasting you, drinking you, making you cry like a baby while he ruins you.

“F-fuck… too much-!” You were so sensitive after his fingers fucking you stupid just mere minutes before, and now his thick tongue is filling you like no other, his pretty big nose pressing up against your clit so perfectly it was insane. 

He lets go of your hands, just to take both your wrists in one hand while the other flattens against your stomach, trailing down along your inner thigh, before gently sliding between your slick pussy lips.

“Fuck, you taste incredible, such a wet mess.” He wraps his lips around your clit and slides his coated fingers inside of you once again, and your voice shatters when she curls them perfectly. The stimulation of his mouth and the feel of his fingers pressing and kneading, your wrists twist and turn in his grasp, but he makes no move to let you go. He only squeezes tighter. He groans around your clit, and your mouth falls open as the vibrations of his voice send sparks flying in your brain.

Moaning like he could feel it himself, slow, coaxing motions of his fingers against your walls that had your eyes rolling, the tip of his tongue circling your clit just enough to have you tethering that edge.

“Good girl… good girl…” he coos, his voice muffled as he focuses on getting you to cum again. “Feel me, focus on me, pretty baby. God…”

He was getting off on your frantic movements, your endless amounts of arousal that seemed to gush from you. The way you clenched around his fingers when his voice vibrated around your clit.

“You’re right there.” He encourages, shaking his head back and forth against your cunt, your arousal slipping down his chin and coating his lips, the wet slurping sounds so nasty and vile.

“Keep working for me, you're so close.” Mingi talks you through it, pulling away from your clit and littering wet kisses against your tummy. “Rock your hips, tell me what feels good, let me hear you.”

You choke out a broken cry, and he’s tempted to let up just so you can quiet down, but he’s addicted to you, and he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

“U-up..” you stutter out, and he wastes no time. Gently, he moves his fingers inside of you, nudging them upwards a little more. He feels it, your body tense and your cunt clench, and you let out a low groan.

“There… right there…” You exhale, and he presses up against that spot, circling the tip of his fingers against it repeatedly, instead of thrusting them. A constant, mind-numbing pressure that feels so good it hurts.

“Yeah, there we go.” He grits out, bringing his tongue down and flicking it up against your clit in soft kitten licks, a slow light, warm pressure that makes your hips jerk to chase it more.

You try to cry out, beg for more, but the harder his fingers pressed, the less you could remember English. Your breaths were whiny, and your voice kept cracking, and you were so close to cumming again.

“I'm going to count you down, darling.” His low voice pulls a low wail from your chest, and you try to move your hands to grab his head to push him further against you, just to remember he had you restrained. 

“You can cum your brains out when I get to one, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head frantically, your hips bucking against his tongue that oh so gently teases your clit. Mingi smiles and nibbles your sensitive nerves playfully, and then he starts to increase the pressure of his fingertips against your G-spot.

“10.” You cry out when he runs his tongue along your inner thigh, up and down, a teasing motion against the sensitive skin that makes your entire body flare with heat. “9… 8… 7…”

With every number he bites you. Sinking his teeth into your thigh, your stomach, your clit, anything his mouth could reach between your legs. And all the while, his fingers never stop curling.

“6… 5… uh uh. C’mon, baby, get a hold of yourself, not yet.” He feels you clench hard, your moans getting breathy. He knows you’re so close, he can hear it in your tears. But he gave you a command, and he expects you to follow it.

“You can do it… 4.” He wraps his lips around your clit one more time, and this time he lets out long, drawn-out groans that come from deep in his chest, the quiver of his voice stimulating your clit so perfectly you thought you wouldn’t make it.

“3…2… c'mon baby, make it good. Cum yourself stupid for me, okay? For me… please?” 

God, when he whines. It hurts your head. You force yourself to breathe, the knot in your stomach tighter than ever. He lets go of your wrists, and immediately, your hands fly and bury themselves in his soft hair. His now free hand snakes underneath your thigh and hikes it further up his shoulder, prying you open as your legs begin to close around his skull.

His tough fingers sink into the soft flesh, and he drags his tongue over your clit in repeated, pressured waves.

“1… go ahead, baby, cum for me. Don’t hold back, give it to me. Let me have you.” You shatter, instantaneously. It hurt, it felt amazing. Your entire body locks up, his hand on your thigh, squeezing so hard it was sure to bruise, his fingers coax and prod, dragging you through it.

He moans around your clit, and you feel like you’ve been shocked with volts of electricity. Your fingers grip his hair at his scalp, the intensity of your orgasm nearly knocking you out. 

He laps at your pussy, drinking up the slick that spills from you, and you find yourself limp beneath him, regaining your breath as he cleans you up greedily during the aftershocks. Purely for his own enjoyment, it seems. He could watch you do that all day. He finds himself wondering if you’ve ever squirted before.

He rests back on his haunches, taking in your body below him. Squirming and soaked, begging for his hands and for his mouth. 

“You’re so fucking bad for me.” Mingi breathes out in barely controlled disbelief, like your very being was something unhealthy while he was on a diet.

He’s leaning back over you and letting one hand slip around your body, pressing against your lower back to arch you a bit, his other hand unbuttoning his pants with hurried precision.

His lips swallow yours in a hungry moan, tilting his head and kissing you long and deep and frantic, your heavy breaths brushing against each other, his warm tongue running over yours in a cannibalistic kind of hunger.

“You’re making me such a bad, bad man, baby.” Mingi coos into the kiss, and while he’s kissing you into a fever, you feel something warm and heavy press against your stomach. Slowly, he grinds his hips against you, humping his cock against your belly.

You can tell two things immediately. Number one. Mingi was feral. The kiss was all teeth and drool, not giving you one second to breathe. The hand on your back is moving back up and gripping the back of your neck to help maneuver your head in the best way to kiss you as deep as possible.

And two. He felt so fucking huge.

Not to mention the mere size of him as he is, his broad shoulders shielding you from even being able to see the ceiling of his bedroom itself. But you can feel his cock twitch against your flesh. Long, so much so it reaches past your belly button, thick, hot. He was gonna split you in half, there was no doubt about it.

When he finally gives you a moment to breathe, he’s taking his other hand and grabbing the underside of your thigh, lifting it and maneuvering your leg over his shoulder, your ankle resting next to his head.

Spreading you nice and pretty, he reaches back down and grabs the base of his cock, setting it between your drooling lips, twitching against your clit, and you groan loudly into the space.

He gently moves his hips through your folds, a slow, slick glide as he lubes himself up with your arousal, moaning low and deep as he coats himself with you. His hand drags up your body, grabbing every inch of flesh he can before his hand is cupping over your mouth, pressing down nice and hard.

Your eyes widen as his hips never cease their movement, only gliding even smoother the wetter the length of his cock gets. He leans down to press his lips against your ear, and he kisses it lightly, his shaky breath fanning over you.

“Shh…shh.” he coos, and he cock jumps when he feels your moans vibrate beneath his palm. He litters the side of your neck with wet kisses, and your entire body shivers as you realize that no matter what you do, you cannot move.

He has you pinned against his mattress with the strength of his own body, holding you down with his weight. He feels you shake, and he swears he feels your cunt get even wetter, and he’s barely holding back the primal urge to pound you into his bed until you cry for him to stop.

“Not gonna use a condom with you, baby, I’m going to give it to you raw, maybe fuck some manners into your head while I’m at it.” Mingi groans nice and low against your ear, and then he’s finally sinking his cock into you, nice and slow. Stretching your pretty little pussy out as torturously as he can manage.

When you squeal beneath his hand, he shakes his head and leans back, his eyes lock with your watery ones as he clicks his tongue.

“No baby no….” He purrs, but he doesn’t stop sinking into you, pressing his hand further against your drooling mouth. “You have to be quiet, okay? Please?” He begs in a low, whiny tone. You can feel every vein of him graze against your pulsing walls, your tears spill down your cheeks and flow over his knuckles, and he whispers sweet nothings to you as he seems to sink into you endlessly.

“Such a pretty crier, darling.”

“Almost there, just a little more, beautiful slutty girl, taking me so well.”

His fingers are wet with your tears, and he can’t quite bottom out yet; he has to fuck himself deeper into you.

“Alright, I need you to be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut, I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” You whine with a broken cry, and he’s pulling his hips back, sliding the length of him out of you, and then sliding right back in with a moan you can feel in your chest. Your legs shake as he pushes himself just a little deeper this time, and your belly feels full of him.

“Yeah, you've been wanting me to mess this pussy up, huh, baby?” Mingi’s free hand finds the base of your throat once more, helping keep you quiet by limiting your airflow. And you tighten around him so much that he has to pause because he physically cannot move any further.

He laughs lowly, and he peeps the way your eyelids flutter, and you seem to have drunk haze over your eyes. One hand over your mouth, so large he practically has your entire jaw in his grip. The other with a grounding hold on your throat, just tight enough to make you a little dumb. His entire body presses down against yours, pinned beneath him, so helpless.

His cock thick, heavy, and deep in your guts, slow, mean strokes that make your drool pool in the back of your throat.

He grins, and then he’s pressing himself deeper into your cunt, and you moan gutturally against his palm. 

“Nasty little girl. You like not being able to breathe when I fuck you? Huh?” You don’t answer, of course, just moan and whine as he fucks his cock into you, deep and slow. 

Your muscles start to tense from the pressure, your leg straightening over Mingi’s shoulder as the pleasure absolutely sweeps you away beneath his warm body.

“Your legs are locking up, baby.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. “C’mon, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He teases you, even while drilling his cock into you like he was insatiable.

Then he’s slipping his hand underneath your knee, bending your leg forward, and pressing it against your chest. You cry out, and suddenly he’s sinking in ever deeper, and you feel so incredibly full. His hand slips away from your mouth for just a moment to hook beneath your other knee, and pushes it up to your chest as well, folded underneath your professor like some kind of doll.

You choke out an overstimulated sob, and once he’s able to hold both your legs down against your body with his chest, his hand is back on your mouth to keep your noises down. 

He stops moving his hips and shivers, the new angle having you so much tighter around his cock, and with your knees up to your shoulders, making you look so small, he’s seconds away from losing it.

“S-Sir…” you whine beneath his palm, your cries muffled and your breath hot against his skin. Mingi’s cock jumps inside of you when he feels your voice against his hand, and he drops his head by your neck with a shaky, low moan.

“I’m sorry, pretty baby.” He murmurs in your ear, and then he starts to move again. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

This time, he’s kissing spots so deep you feel him in your ribcage. His tip scraping that perfect spot that makes your muscles cramp, and your throat catches. 

“Am I too big for you?” He smiles against the flared skin of your throat, pulling his hips all the way back, tantalizingly slow enough to force you to feel every thick inch of him stroke in and out of your walls.

He leans away from your neck and looks at you, your eyes fluttering and your nose flaring as he slowly eases into a meaner pace, nearly pounding your cunt like he couldn’t control himself.

“Look at me, baby,” Mingi mumbles softly, and when you don’t respond, he squeezes your jaw harder, and your eyes shoot open. “I said, look at me, right here.” His voice is rougher this time, commanding. Like how he talks to the class when he wants their undivided attention, but this time it’s laced with pure primal need.

Your eyes lock with his, and everything starts to crumble. Your whines break into breathless, sad whimpers, your legs shake even when he’s got them pressed to your chest, your pussy gushes around him as he finds a relentless, deep rhythm, drilling his fat cock into you.

“Holy shit, you’re soaked.” He breathes out, pressing his lips against the back of his hand that covers your mouth. His hips smack against yours, a wet slap of skin with every drag of his hips; you could hardly hear yourself think.

“Good slut… fuckkk- my baby is so needy, hm? Such a selfish pussy.” He’s bullying you now, his swollen lips shiny and wet, then finally he’s taking his hand off your mouth and immediately replacing it with his lips.

Kissing you slow and deep, muffling your cries with his own mouth. His tongue fills your mouth, and your moans vibrate against him, and you feel as he starts to fuck up into you faster, the slaps of skin louder and the pleasure scraping up your spine and rendering you cockdrunk.

“Such a crybaby.” He groans down your throat, his warm chest pressed against your own like a heated cage, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

“Mm, just wanna- fuck… just wanna make you feel good.” He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and almost growls, and you notice he’s starting to get rougher, get meaner. Losing control.

He started to ramble in cracked moans under his breath. “Better than her… p-prettier than her… fuck-! Softer than h-her…”

You hadn’t had half the mind to dwell on his words, but you just knew he must have been talking about his wife. Whether she was in the picture or not, he was still thinking about her. And you hated to admit it, but it sent your ego soaring.

His hands grip the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs harder against your body, then he’s dragging his hips back with a heady growl and pounding you.

Hard, deep thrusts that have you sliding up the mattress, he’s careful enough not to send the headboard flying against the wall, but it’s still enough that it sends your poor little brain into a frenzy.

“Shouldn’t be letting me do this to you.” He breathes through gritted teeth, his messy salt and pepper hair falling over his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but interrupted himself with a broken moan. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t believe it.

A wet, blissful mess under him. Such a smart girl who risked everything she had just to be ruined by a man old enough to be her father. There was no redeeming himself now. And he wasn’t sure that he’d want to.

“Does it feel good? Does my baby feel good here?” His hand gently presses against your lower stomach, where he’s buried inside of you, teasing you with heated questions he knows you don’t have the capacity to answer. You shake and shiver every time his tip kisses that sweet spot.

You’re doing so well, keeping your voice down, struggling to breathe as you try to keep your noises to yourself. And in all honesty, all he wants to do is hear you. He wants to hear you squeal and cry for him, but not while his daughter is home.

“P-please…!” You weep, your hands scrambling to grab something, anything. He doesn’t let you, grabbing both your wrists in his huge hand and lifting your hands above your head.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He bites out, sliding his hand from under your thigh and covering your mouth once again.  Your muffled whines flow through his hand as you follow his command, wrapping your shaky legs around his waist as he adjusts the position of his hips so he can put as much force as he can behind his thrusts.

With your wrists pinned above you and your mouth beneath his palm, his gaze burns through your skull, and his eyebrows knit together like he’s focusing. “Shh. Be still, be quiet.”

You whine loudly, and he presses his hand harder against your mouth, shaking his head like he was disappointed. 

“No ma’am, you know better.” He groans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his own noises as he starts to fuck you so hard it’s like he is trying to force your cunt to mold to his shape.

Resolute, deep, cruel, Mingi uses your body like he is burning from the inside out. Angling his hips upward with every thrust to perfectly graze against your G-spot in a way that had you spiraling forward to your orgasm in record time. Your neck involuntarily cranes backward, and his hand follows your movements, keeping a tight grip on your jaw to muffle you.

Your wrists wiggle in his grasp, your hands shaking and spasming as all you feel is white-hot bliss. Like your entire being was pleasure embodied, and Mingi was working you out so perfectly.

The wet slaps were impossible to mask, the creak of the bed rivaling Mingi’s only thought that swam around his brain. 

Break her. Break her. Break her.

You sobbed quietly, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. It all felt too good, and Mingi was way too good at this. It would be easy to get addicted, and it would ultimately be the downfall for you both. But you were too lost in it to care; all you wanted was to cum, and Mingi was getting you there no problem.

“I know baby, I know.” He growls under his breath, and your stomach lurches.

Mingi whines out broken and low curses, dropping his forehead against yours, his body jerking when he feels you tighten around him.

He lifts his eyes to your fucked out ones and kisses the tip of your nose, such a soft gesture, all the while he pounds your pussy to death.

“You cumming beautiful?” He exhales, and you nod frantically beneath his hand. There’s a conflict in his eyes, then he’s leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna move my hand, but you have to be quiet, darling. I want this to be good for you, but you have to breathe through it.”

You weren’t really listening, too focused on your orgasm, the more it coiled in your lower stomach. You nodded, anything to let you cum. Mingi wasn’t buying your eagerness, and he shook his head.

“Look me in the eyes and say you understand.” You force your eyes to lock with his, his hips slowing to a deep grind, your shuddering breaths warming his hand. 

Your pleading gaze has him crumbling, and slowly he slips his hand away and grips the front of your throat loose enough you can breathe, but enough to assert control. 

“I u-understand!” You cry, your voice a low whimper. “Please, Mingi, I’ll b-be good! I promise…”

Your sweet voice, it makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he grinds so deep into you that your lungs shake. 

“Beg.” He snarls, forming his lips into a mocking pout. “Say, ‘Please let me cum, please fuck me through it, please.’ Make it pretty, use your manners.”

Your nose flares, and your cheeks are wet with tears make Mingi’s heart pound. 

“Please… let me c-cum.” You whimper, your bottom lip wobbling, every word a drunken slur. “Please, wan’ it so bad… please.”

He smiles greedily, your pleas trailing off into quiet, mindless babbles, while he slips his hand between your melded bodies and finds your clit.

You feel his fingertips press up against it, and a gasp tears from your lungs, your legs tightening around him enough to force his hips to sink his cock deeper into you. Mingi tucks his bottom lip between his teeth drunkenly, circling your clit and grinding his hips into you each time he bottoms out with every powerful thrust. 

“Yes. Yes…” You weep pathetically, and with every clench of your cunt, every sweet noise from your mouth, Mingi finds it very hard to push the thought of fucking a baby into you to the back of his mind.

His body craves it, his soul screams at him to fill you up, his cock twitches from the sensitivity of holding himself back. He knows that it would be bad for both of you. Once he lets go like that, he’s going to want to fill you up again, again, again. Until the results are satisfactory and you are round with his child. 

He doesn’t want that. He’s sure you don’t want that. His body craves it, his instincts pick up on your young, palpable fertility like he was some kind of animal. 

Your legs lock up around him, and your back arches off the bed, so close to that blinding edge. Your hands reach around his claw at his broad back, your nails scratching him up, dragging a wince from his lips.

“M-Mingi-! Oh my god… right there- right there…” 

The authoritative honorific long abandoned, your brain clouds over as your orgasm creeps up your neck. 

“You got it, sweetheart…” he praises, never stopping the repetitive strokes of his fingers, the filthy grind of his hips. “Cum for me, all over me, please baby…”

He kisses the front of your throat, sucking dark marks into your soft skin and running his tongue flat over them. Repeated begs for you to fall apart on his cock, begging for you to let go.

Your entire body tenses, and then it washes over you in waves; they seem to never stop. He doesn’t stop moving his hips; he starts to fuck you faster. Dragging your orgasm out and taking advantage of how tight you’ve gotten, you cry out and shake violently. Mingi gives you no room to breathe, every slick sound of his cock slipping in and out of you so smoothly, only seeming to help you cum harder.

“That’s it… yeah… c’mon babygirl. Don’t stop. Cum until it hurts.” He smashes his lips with yours and moans loudly down your throat, his tongue invading your mouth with a greedy hunger, fucking you with renewed vigor. His hands slide up and cup your jaw, holding your head still as he kisses you stupid.

Then, your legs tighten around him, you tilt your head, and kiss him deeper. You force his hips against yours, and he sinks deeper into you.

“Inside.” You moan around his tongue, and you could feel his low, gravelly whine against your teeth. “Please.”

“Fuck…” he growls, and the hands on your jaw slip up and splay against either side of your face, holding you like you might try and run from him. “Don’t say that.”

But you double down. “Please, sir. Need you to fuck me full of you… get me all messy.”

Mingi gives you a warning look, his thumb slipping down and pushing against your chin, opening your mouth for him. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and you watch as a string of spit falls down the tip of his tongue and into your mouth, and your entire body erupts into an uncontrollable shiver.

“You want it?”He grunts, molding his lips with yours and kissing you so nastily, so dirty, you swear you were cumming again. You whisper pleading ‘yes’s’ and whimpering begs for him to fill you up, and you could practically feel the resolve crack in hips. “Gonna make this pussy a fucking mess.”

How could he resist? Mingi’s hips stutter, and his mouth opens against yours, breathing heavily, exhales broken with whines and groans. His pretty eyes half lidded, and his eyebrows pulled together as he shoves himself deep in your cunt one last time before he’s cumming, rolling his hips into you as he shakily moans against your lips, filling your pussy up with him.

Warmth spreads throughout your body, and Mingi’s entire body presses down heavily against yours, his hips grinding against you in slow, repeated motions, making sure not a single drop of him slips out of you.

Your heavy breaths fill the quiet of his room that has fallen, and realization begins to set in. There was no coming back from this.

You weren’t going to drop his class. You weren’t going to quit the babysitting job. You needed both, and Mingi could do without you, no matter what you decide to do.

He could find a new babysitter. It would be one less paper to grade. 

But he doesn’t think he would be able to go one day without craving you like some kind of drug.

Slowly, he crawls off of you, his heart still racing. You sit up on your elbows, and immediately you move to gather your clothes, but his hand on your wrist stops you.

“Whoa, whoa, wait. What are you doing?” His gentle, kind voice has returned, and your eyes widen as you freeze in place.

“I’m- I’m getting my stuff…?” You’re confused, and he shakes his head like he was disappointed. He stands up and guides you to stand with him. He towers over you, and his hands, which were so rough with you earlier, caress the sides of your arms.

Up your shoulders and along the marks he littered along your neck. He presses his lips to the top of your head and kisses you softly, inhaling the smell of your shampoo. “Let me take care of you.” He murmurs into your hair, and you exhale shakily.

“Why?” You answer, and he rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“What a stupid question.” He laughs, massaging your shoulders and maneuvering you to walk towards his bathroom.

“I thought you said there was no such thing.” You tease, and he opens the bathroom door before picking you up and setting you on the counter.

“I can be wrong sometimes.” He shrugs, turning around and opening the sliding glass door of the shower. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

While he’s adjusting the temperature of the water, you turn and look at yourself in the mirror. You were an awful wreck. Frizzy hair, sweaty skin, dark marks on every inch of your body. He really did a number on you.

“I am still a gentleman after all.” He smiles and turns to fetch you once again, scooping you up and setting you inside the tub. 

“You weren’t acting like one earlier.” You mumble, and he scoops some water in his hand and splashes it on your face. Your mouth falls open in shock, and he raises a warning eyebrow at you.

“Manners, young lady.” 

Mingi cleans you up with a soft rag, gently washing you clean with a soap that smells like him. You nearly fall asleep in his arms, strong and grounding as held your body up.

He’s careful with you, like you’re made of glass. Attentive to your sensitive spots. He dries you off like a baby duck, avoiding your hair to not mess it up any further.

Once he’s got you cleaned up, he ushers you downstairs and urges you to eat something while he takes a shower of his own. He ever generously cuts you up a bowl of fruit, wearing nothing but a loose towel around his waist.

That strange domesticity from the first night he had hired you returned tenfold. And you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him while he worked. His damp hair clinging to his skin, his skin shiny and freckled. The tattoos on his body faded and turned green from the years of existence.

He lay you on the couch, gently massaging your ankles while you ate the fruit, a comfortable quiet settling over both. 

“You can sleep here, if you want.” He whispers, massaging your calves. His glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and he glances at you over them. You avoid his gaze, very interested in the pieces of kiwi sprinkled about your bowl.

“I shouldn’t.” You mumble, and you could feel his grip on your calf loosen. You turn and lock eyes with him, and he thinks he would do anything for those pretty eyes you give him.

“We shouldn’t.” You finish, and you move to stand, but he follows you. His hands cup your elbows and pull you close, flush to his chest. His fingers caress the fragile bone in your arms, and he leans his head down to kiss your forehead.

“Just for tonight, you shouldn’t be driving. You can hardly keep your eyes open.”

He kisses your eyelid, trailing chaste smooches down the side of your face until he melts against your lips, breathing deeply as you lean into him. 

His hands slide down from your elbows to gently envelop either side of your waist, tilting his head to greedily kiss you deeper.

You sigh into his mouth, and he could feel you relax in his arms. Your hands reach up and wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him further against you.

“Okay.” You whisper, pulling away from his lips. He smiles, the smile lines making your heart flutter in your chest. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then he’s leading you away once again, the half-empty bowl of fruit abandoned on the side table. “Just this once.”

Of course, once would turn into twice. And before you know it, you have a routine with him.

Moments that were spent together in the privacy of his own home gradually transitioned into fleeting touches in the campus library, pushing you up against secluded bookshelves and eating you out to high heaven.

Dragging you to his office after class and bending you over his desk and having you then and there like some kind of animal.

You even went so far as to have him over at your home, riding on the hope that your parents wouldn’t decide to come home early from their date nights.

If the board found out, he’d be terminated effective immediately. If your parents found out? God knows how they would feel.

So you agreed to keep this little secret between you two. His daughter was none the wiser, and she never questioned whenever you chose to stay the night, it only made her happier.

You and Mingi had something. Something good? Something bad? You weren’t sure just yet. 

For now, you were having fun. Something someone your age should prioritize. You act like strangers in class, only fleeting looks that were silent promises for what was to come later in the privacy of his home.

These kinds of things were always bound to end in a disaster, and god you prayed it wouldn’t. Just this one time.

You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t his wife. You were a placeholder of sorts, a ghost to fill the empty shadow left in the home. You had no place there, but the longer you stayed the more you began to burn your imprint into the floorboards.

The wolf can keep that fawn as a pet for a little while, but its instinct to consume will always outshine later down the road.

And the fawn’s instinct to flee will always be there; it never disappears. However long it chooses to ignore it, will only prolong the pain that will destroy it when it is finally devoured.

[wooyoungisbaby]

[more ateez memes]

[m-atz]

fairy_lamp710

[maho6any]

Feel It

Neighbor!Choi San X F!Reader

summary: You’ve never been the most lucky person, and when your AC breaks on you in the peak of a southern summer, you think you just might have seen it all. But when your temptation in a bottle of a neighbor offers to help fix it for you, the sweat on his skin makes you reconsider your hatred for the heat.

warnings: neighbors to lovers, older!san, comedy, fluff, biceps, tan skin sannie(drools), sweat, tension, suggestive popsicle eating(lmao), flirting, pet names, (beautiful, sweetheart, babydoll, etc.) oral(m! & f! receiving), against the wall, sloppy makeouts, kinda feral, desperation, choking, eye contact, fingering, creampie

wc: 7.9k

notes: is it december? yes. is this a summer fic? also yes. hop off, i live in the south it’s still hot down here

tracklist: r.e.m., hands to myself, talk

It started with your ring camera.

When a very feline man showed up on a clip while you were checking your footage one day.

Your cat had gone missing a few days prior, and you had never been more broken up about something in your life. You spent days searching far and wide around the neighborhood, but to no avail.

As much as you were perturbed about the disappearance of your cat, you still had to drag yourself to work every morning.

But when you came home that day, a notification sitting untouched on your phone about your ring catching a recording, it all flipped around.

“Hey, I found this little lady wandering around my apartment somehow? I think she got in through an open window, but I remember her being yours. She’ll be with me for now, but come over when you have the chance to scoop her up? She keeps trying to start hissy fits with my cat.”

A warm, charming smile and pretty little dimples. Freckled caramel skin and a strong jaw.

Tousled black hair and sweet eyes that crinkled at the corners, his large arms holding your cat up to the birds-eye camera, giving her a silly look. She meows, seeming content in the strange man’s arms, and he walks away to his own apartment, cooing softly at her as he cradles her in his arms.

That’s how you met San.

He had found your cat and ever so graciously stopped by your door in hopes of dropping her off while you weren’t home. As soon as you saw the recording, you ran out of your home and down the hall to San’s door, knocking gently, trying to mask your excitement.

When he opened the door to your face beaming with happiness, he knew right then and there, he had to find some way to make sure he kept seeing you.

He’s asked to cat sit a few times. You’ve asked him to water your plants while you were out of town. He’s offered to fix your fridge when it started to leak. You offered to collect his mail when he was on a trip.

You scratched his back, and he scratched yours. A sweet and simple relationship that sometimes has blurred lines.

Like when he looked at you like you were beauty embodied, but you brushed it off. Or when you literally felt your heart stop when he held your cat in his arms, littering her little face in kisses, but the heart was a weird thing. He was a little older than you, and sometimes his age showed in the conversations he would hold with you.

But San was always pleasant to talk to, inviting you over for coffee, letting you rant about work, and listening to his stories about his travels around the world with his buddies. All this time living next door to him, and you had never spoken a word to each other until now.

It was a soft, platonic, crutch of a relationship. A person you could talk to after a long day and just be real with. San made you feel real.

Well, things would change very quickly.

And it was all because of a near heatstroke, the electrifying power of the sun, and a broken AC.

It was the dead of summer, one hundred degrees outside, and asphalt you could fry an egg on. And your AC gave out on you, the shitbox.

You had done everything you could to try and remedy it, but no matter what you tried, it was useless. Every YouTube video provided no help, the toolbox under your sink looked like an airplane cockpit to you, and you were so overheated it was getting hard to form thoughts.

Stripped down to just a thin sweat-soaked tank top and volleyball shorts, you rested your forehead against the edge of your balcony, the door wide open as you tried to catch any breeze that the gods felt generous enough to grace you with.

You tried standing in front of your open fridge, but you knew that would raise your bill, so your last resort was begging for wind on your balcony. You closed your eyes and sighed when a moment of fresh air washed over your wet skin, but it was gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

You nearly let out a moan of relief, the familiar voice flooding your ears like God himself was sent to help you.

“San…” you whined weakly, not lifting your head from your balcony. “I need you to rescue me.”

His sweet little laugh hits your ears, and you turn your head to see him standing on his own balcony, smiling at you fondly. “You know I’m just a door away; you could have just knocked and asked.”

You pouted and winced guiltily. “But I’ve been bothering you so much lately and-“

San interrupts you with a raise of his eyebrow and a snort. “You’re never bothering me, sweetheart. I’m always more than willing to help you out, you know that, don’t you?”

An angel, really.

“San, you’re the best.” You hang your head, and droplets of sweat fall onto the hot wood of your balcony. San is already walking back inside his apartment with a knowing smile.

“Let me grab my things.”

-

“How are you alive?”

The moment San stepped into your home, he immediately began to sweat. Your apartment really was that hot. Carrying his toolbox and a determination to bring coolness back to your abode, he nearly soaked his grey tank top upon stepping through your door.

You laugh dryly. “I guess I’m really resilient.”

San runs his free hand through his hair, inhaling deeply as he takes in the situation. “How long has it been like this?” he murmurs, still seemingly in shock over the temperature of your home.

“A few hours, maybe.” You bite your tongue and avoid looking at him, arms crossed as you take a sudden interest in the ceiling.

San scoffs, “It should have taken you 5 minutes to decide to come ask for my help (Name).” You could feel his eyes on you, and it was burning more than the sun.

“Well, excuse me-” before you could finish your sentence, he whistled loudly.

“Hey, over here.” He snaps, and you whip your head in his direction. Your eyes lock, and you watch as they fall from concentration to a strange softness. 

“There you are.” His voice lowers to something so gentle it makes your stomach flip. “Hi, neighbor. So you want this fixed or not?” San lifts his bag and raises his eyebrow in question. Your arms remain crossed, and you nod silently, words seeming to have left you.

“Alright then, c’mon. I want you to watch so you know better next time you’re too embarrassed to ask for my help.”

Your nervousness leaves you as he walks away from you, and you follow with a pep in your step and an annoyance in your tone. “I was not embarrassed, I just didn’t want to drag you out of your comfy air-conditioned home to come sweat off ten pounds trying to fix mine.”

San laughs as he makes a beeline to the closet in your hallway where your air conditioner is located, the metal in his bag clinking with each step. "Sounds like you’re jealous, actually.”

San gets to quick work to diagnose the problem, his head disappearing in the closet as he begins to poke and prod around the broken contraption, murmuring things to himself as he works. Some clanking around and a few screws loose, and he pokes his head from out of the closet.

He looks down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful at the chance of finally being able to feel air conditioning again. He smiles sheepishly, and you already knew bad news was coming.

“Bad news, the entire thing is frozen over.” You let out a defeated groan, and San rests his hands on your bare upper arms.

“Don’t pitch a fit, it’s an easy fix, but you may not like it.” San’s voice is gentle, his hands softly squeezing your arms. You try to ignore the way his skin sticks to yours from the sweat. Pervert.

“What?” You ask dejectedly. San lowers his voice to a whisper.

“You have to turn the heat on.”

You blink a few times, and you feel your entire body go into fight or flight.

“I’d rather you shoot me.” You deadpan, and San squeezes your shoulders one last time before slipping away.

“I’d rather not, babydoll, you give me work to do with my hands. I’d be bored without you.” His grin is genuine, his dimples on proud display, the tendons in his neck flexing, the sweat dripping off his brow. His eyes flick over your face and along your jawline. He licks a drop of sweat off his bottom lip.

And he wants to turn the heat on?

“Is that your way of saying I cause enough trouble to keep you busy?” You gnaw on your bottom lip as San reached behind him and turned the thermostat onto the heat, full blast. 

“You could say that.” He smiles and shuts the closet to the AC, and you could immediately feel the heated air start to flow from the vents around the house.

“I’m gonna die in here.” You whine, wiping the side of your neck with a disgusted face.

San sets down his toolbox, which it seems he brought for almost nothing. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay, and we can die together.”

You can’t help but crack a smile as you walk away and fall onto your carpeted floor with a tired thud. “You know you don’t have to, San.”

He only nods and lies down right next to you, spreading his limbs like a starfish and turning his head to face you. “I know.”

-

The rickety rotating fan San brought over from his apartment did little for your sweltering skin. You sat on your knees directly in front of it, sighing each time the rotation made it to your face, and groaning when it started to spin away.

San was sprawled across your couch, lips wrapped around a blue popsicle you had offered him from your freezer. His arm draped over the back as he watched you on your knees in front of the fan, the sweat trickling down your shoulder blades and leaving streaks on your tank top.

San’s eyes were lidded as his tongue traces absentminded patterns along the icy treat, his gaze fully trained on you. You were too focused on catching the flow of the fan to notice how intensely San was staring at you. His eyes followed the slope of your neck and the divots on your lower back where your tank top rode up over your hips. 

The way your hair sticks to your slick skin and how your shoulders rose and fell with each breath you took. The way your whole body would relax when the air finally reached you, and how it would tense right back on when it moved away.

The AC was not the only thing that was making San feel hot all over; he couldn't take his eyes off you. Dribbles of sugary blue melted down his wrist, and just when he lowered his mouth to clean up the mess, you turned to ask him a question.

His eyes lock with yours as you turn, but his mouth doesn't cease its movement. His pretty pink tongue slips out and licks up the trail that dripped down his tan wrist.

He mumbles out a low ‘hm?’ as his tongue lies flat against his skin and drags it up his wrist. Your words fail you once again as your eyes fall to his mouth against his skin, and yet San can’t find it in him to rip his gaze away from your pretty, desperate eyes.

“Do- is it good?” You stumble over your question, completely forgetting what you were originally going to ask him. San smiles and licks up the side of the popsicle until he stops and bites the end off of it with a silent snap.

“Very, thank you, sweetheart.” He chews on the blue ice, and you swallow.

“It's the best I can do since you won’t let me pay you.” You swirl your body around so you can fully face him, and grin as he bites off another small piece.

“Your company is payment enough.” He tells you that every time, because every time it goes the same way.

Something breaks, and San comes to your rescue. While he fixes it, you chat idly, and after he’s done, the conversation just seems to flow on even longer. He considers that his payment, always insisting that your time was his currency.

You’ve tried to shove at least a 20 down his throat, but he’ll never take it. You opened your mouth to argue some more, but as you did, your cat walked around the corner of the couch with a soft meow.

“Oh, and where have you been?” You call to her as he rubs herself on San’s man spread legs with a happy meow. San sticks his ice cream into his mouth and reaches down to scoop her into his arms.

“Hello, little lady.” He coos at her, rubbing his nose against hers and scratching her neck as he cradles her. She purrs contentedly, and you watch in near awe.

“Your mom's grumpy about her AC.” He whispers to her, and you roll your eyes. Almost as if she could understand, she meows quietly. 

“I hope you’re not conspiring with my cat.” You narrow your eyes playfully, and San gently sets her down back on the ground. She meanders her way over to you, placing her front paws on your knee as you reach down and pet her gently.

“I would never.” His popsicle is dripping again; it’s gotten down his chin this time, along his strong jaw, and dropped onto his tank top.

You inhale sharply. “You’re making a mess on my couch.” Your cat bounds away quietly, off to whatever little secret spot she’s been hiding in this entire time.

San looks down at the blue spot on his shirt and laughs softly. “Oops.” He lifts his thumb to his chin and wipes the river of blue on his chin. But as he moves to dip his thumb into his mouth, you move quicker.

You stand from your spot and snatch his wrist, and slip it into your mouth without hesitation. You clean the sticky sugary mess off his thumb, swirling your tongue around it slowly, keeping your eyes on him. San’s eyes are wide, surprised, and intrigued.

You’re not sure what on earth possessed you to do that, so you move back away from him. But San doesn’t let that happen.

His fingers curl around and grip your jaw, keeping your head in place, his thumb pressed down against your tongue, and he guides your head closer to him. You were trapped in his strong hold, and you felt your head begin to swim.

His fingers press into the flesh of your cheek, pursing your lips around his thumb, and the heat in your blood increases substantially when he keeps your head still so you can’t direct your embarrassed gaze away from him.

“Was that worth it?” He teases with a small grin, the hand with the popsicle lifting to slip the pop back into his mouth, running it up and down his tongue, which had turned blue by now. All the while, the thumb in your mouth mimicked his movement, stroking your tongue slowly.

You totally don’t notice the way his legs slightly spread further open, how he readjusts the angle of his hips. He totally doesn’t notice the way your thighs clench together and how your teeth scrape against his nail. You also don’t notice the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you, and he for sure doesn’t notice how you look at him like that’s all you’ve ever wanted in the world.

He slips his thumb out of your mouth so slowly it seems like time itself has been paused, a very thin trail of saliva connected between his nail and your parted lips, snaps like a silent cue. 

Your eyelids flutter, and San’s tongue darts out and licks a stripe up the pad of his thumb, before popping the ice cream back in his mouth.

He stands, leaving you dumbfounded on the floor below him. “Let’s go check and see how much that AC has thawed; this heat is getting unbearable.”

-

“I’d give it at least another hour before we can run the cool again.” San peers into the closet, and you feel a sigh of relief rack your body, wiping your chest to clear it of the sweat that had gathered there.

San turns to see you looking at him with eyes glimmering with adoration and hope, and he doesn’t catch the way your heart leaps when your eyes follow the droplet of sweat that clings to his chin.

“I really can’t thank you enough.” You sigh, trying to gather your bearings. 

“I promise you, as easy a fix this was, I mean you could have done it yourself-“ San’s lips spread into a sly grin, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“You literally insisted on helping me.” You turn around to walk away, but his arm reaches out to grab your wrist as he drags you back to his chest.

“I know- hey, I’m talking to you, don’t walk away from me, c’mere…” he stops you from leaving, and you're standing in front of him again, much closer this time. He looks down at you, and your words die in your throat; his hand on your wrist doesn’t leave, it only squeezes tighter. 

“Hi there.” San murmurs. “Listen to me.” You swallow quietly and nod slowly.

“I love helping you out. Love working for you, babydoll.” His thumb rubs gentle circles over the pulse in your wrist, and his soft voice sends shockwaves to your belly.

“It’s a privilege if anything, I want you to always come ask for my help. But I am expecting a thank you.” He raises an expectant eyebrow, and you force your voice to come out, albeit small.

“Thank you, Sannie.” You speak lowly, and you feel his hands squeeze your wrist only slightly. He inhales slowly and lowers his lips just shy of your earlobe.

“You're welcome, beautiful, anytime.” You stifle a whimper when you feel the way his warm breath travels over your ear, and suddenly, you want to rip your skin off because you feel like you’re burning from the inside out.

You needed to divert.

“You should change your shirt, you look a mess.” You clear your throat, but San wasn’t done having fun with you.

“What, you don’t like me all messy?” He smiles and drags his fingertips every so gently across your exposed collarbone, and your skin shivers beneath his touch. 

“You’re even messier than I am now, sweetheart. You’re soaked.”

You know he’s talking about your tank top, which was, in fact, soaked with sweat. But you both knew he knew it’s a lot more than just that.

You bite your inner cheek nervously, and your limbs twitch. San’s fingers trail over your collarbone, along your shoulder, down your inner arm until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours.

His other hand cups around the back of your neck, gently massaging the nape, and a small, satisfied moan slips from your lips. Your eyes fall shut, and San keeps his gaze on you, enamored with every expression you make.

“San.” You whisper, your eyes still closed.

“Yeah?” He purrs, continuing to massage the tight knot on your neck with purpose. He subtly pulls you closer by the grip on your neck, and you can feel his nose ever so gently brush yours. His breath fans over your lips, and you can smell his scent. The sweat, the warm, woodsy notes of his fading cologne. 

“It’s hot.” Your eyes flutter open, and your knees nearly give out on you when you see just how close he is to you. You can point out every freckle on his face, every discoloration of skin, and every pore. And his eyes are so intense that it makes your stomach fall.

Lidded eyes and low lashes, his lips just barely quirked up into the slightest of smiles. “I know, baby, I know.”

“How much longer until we can turn the AC back on?” You're inching closer to him as you speak, and your breaths come shallowly.

San's lips move away from yours, and he’s pressing them in featherlight kisses against your neck. “You’re shivering like you’re cold, sweetheart.” A kiss below your ear, and one in the crook of your neck.

“M not cold.” You murmur, and you do in fact shiver each time his soft lips make contact with your skin. 

“You hot, baby?” He coos against your ear, and your arms grab the thick straps of his tank top and pull him away from your ear, back to face you. You nod.

“San.” You whine, your eyebrows knit together in desperation. “Please.”

“I’m gonna make it worse, beautiful.” He pouts playfully, poorly masking the want laced in his words. “You want me to make it worse?”

You can’t help your honesty. “I want you to do whatever you want.” You pull him closer, and your lips are just thin skin brushing thin skin, your breaths mingling, and your noses bumping.

“Oh, you shouldn’t say that to me.” He groans against your lip, his eyes locked on your hazy eyes. “I don’t want to do very gentlemanly things.” The hand he had interlaced with yours slips away, and you feel it trail up your inner thigh, and he’s pressing against the thin fabric of your volleyball shorts.

You whimper against his skin, and San’s lip parts in mock surprise. “Knew you were soaked.” He sighs, and he finally gives you what you want.

A slow, tasting kiss, savoring every flip of your tongue and soft whine. Your mouth is warm and sweet against his, the faint taste of your lip gloss and your sweat dancing on his taste buds. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, wasting no time.

You were so unbelievably slick, it was mind-baffling. San’s fingers immediately become soaked in your arousal, his eyes closed, and eyebrows knit in concentration as his fingertips slip all over your cunt.

When he pressed up against your clit you accidentally bit his tongue in surprise, and you ripped your mouth away from the kiss and pressed your forehead against his broad chest. Your breath comes heavy, and your hands slip away from his tank top straps and ball into fists against his pecs, your legs already beginning to shake.

San moves around so your back is pressed against the hallway wall, forcing the back of your head against the wall. “Uh uh.” He bites out, rubbing slow circles against your clit, your thighs squeeze around his wrist as the pleasure flows through your blood.

“At me.” His hand on your neck forced your head to crane upwards, and you locked eyes with him again and simply melted. His eyes are heavy and hot, looming over you as he plays with your cunt. “Here, baby, right here.”

You let a pathetic moan slip from your mouth when he trails his fingers down and slides one inside of you, thick and full against your warm walls. Your knees buckle, but San keeps you up by your neck.

“Don’t look away from me, babydoll.” His presence overwhelmed you, his body molded to yours, and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, curling and pressing spots so deep it made you lightheaded.

Your eyes watered, and San bit his bottom lip, a smirk spreading across his face. “So fucking pretty, yes, you are, baby.” He curls his fingers deeper, and your mouth falls open. San takes the opportunity to kiss you nasty and deep, sliding his tongue over yours and groaning down your throat. “Yes, you are...” he purrs into your mouth, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

You were both overheated, but the broken AC had no contribution. You wanted your clothes off, you wanted to feel his skin on yours. You wanted San-

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He growls into your mouth, slipping his fingers out of you to tease your clit, before they’re right back inside of you, stirring up your guts with deep, pressurized drags.

You nod breathlessly, giving him the sweetest little puppy dog eyes you didn’t even know you were making. San just had that effect on you; he awakened your instinct to beg.

His hand slides up and buries its fingers into your hair, gently pushing you away from his lips. His fingers slip out of your cunt, and you whine in protest, but then he’s pushing you to your knees.

You watch as he gradually grows taller the further you sink to your knees, and your hands grip his massive thighs through his jeans until you’re eye level with his bulge.

He cocks his head to the side, looking down at you like you were the sweetest thing. His fingers massage your scalp in slow circles, his other fingers sinking into his mouth as he slowly licks your slick off of them, all while never diverting his heated gaze from you.

Once clean, he wipes his saliva across his shiny chrome belt buckle, leaving a wet streak across the metal. Then he’s slowly unbuckling it, teasingly slow.

“I’ll consider this my thank you.” He says as he lets his belt fall open. You reach your hands up and unbutton his jeans, sliding down the zipper and letting your hands slip into his boxers.

You can feel him twitch as soon as your palm finds him, and as you pull him out, San’s breath hitches. Thick, heavy, and hot in your hand, you hold San’s cock, and you’re barely able to wrap your fingers around the length of him.

Pretty and pink, San runs his tongue over his lower lip when he catches the way your throat bobs as you take in the size of him. You raise your eyes to look at him as you stroke him languidly, and he's groaning under his breath.

His thumb hooks on his belt loop, his hand in your hair slipping from your hair and gripping himself at the base. “Tongue, baby.”

You obey, letting your tongue fall from your mouth. San lifts his cock and oh so gently slaps his pink tip against your tongue, drops of pre falling into your mouth. San can’t help the low giggle that rumbles from his chest at how willing you were for him.

“Relax for me, okay?” he whispers, and you grab either of his hips to hold yourself steady. “You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth?”

“Yes, Sannie,” you whimper, and he slaps himself against your tongue a few more times before both of his hands wound through your hair. 

“Alright, sweet girl, breathe through your nose.” You relax your jaw and keep your eyes on his as he slides his cock past your lips, along your tongue, and into your mouth. You feel the thick vein against your tongue and the way he twitches when you hollow out your cheeks for him.

His grip in your hair tightens the further he glides into your mouth, and he comes to a stop just before his tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watered, and tears gathered on your lower lashes, and San was doing everything in his power to be a gentleman and not fuck your mouth to tears, but you were making it so hard.

Your tongue twitches against the underside of his length as he slowly slides out of your mouth, then thrusts back in in a muted, gentle rhythm.

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his flushed, sweaty skin giving him a glow that makes your thighs clench below you. His eyebrows are knit together, and his lips part in a quiet moan when he slips further down your throat. “Oh baby…” he sighs, rewarding you with a soft moan that makes your stomach do flips.

He pushes himself deeper into your mouth, and your nails dig into his thighs, but you’re taking it so well.

“Yeah… atta girl. So fucking precious,” he praised around hitched breaths and whiny groans. Drool slips down the corner of your mouth the further he pushes himself further down your throat. His scent, his taste, everything about him was overwhelming you to the point of painful arousal, and all you wanted to do was feel him everywhere.

You moan around his cock, and San’s grip on your scalp tightens, the vibrations of your sweet voice making it impossible to keep it together. “Make too much noise, and I’ll cum down your throat, sweetheart. Let's have manners, please.” He moans lowly as he pulls himself out of your mouth, your lips suctioning around his tip with a wet, dirty kiss.

You let your tongue fall out and drag it along the underside of him, and he shivers in bliss when you drag it up and gently tease his head.

San can’t take it any longer, and he’s lifting you by your hair and practically throwing you against the wall. He’s on his knees next, spreading your thighs and hiking one over his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother to take off your shorts or your panties, as he’s simply pulling the flimsy fabric to the side and cupping your dripping cunt with his mouth.

Warm and wet, his tongue dives between your folds, licking up, down, left, and right. Your hands bury themselves in his hair. His large, rough hands hold your thighs open for him as he bullies your pussy with his mouth, open kisses, and greedy licks. His lips wrap around your clit as he buries his face as deep as he can between your thighs like he can’t get enough. He’s groaning and cooing into your cunt, getting off on how wet he’s managed to make you just by being here. 

His tongue swirls around your clit, and you gasp aloud, your head falling back against the wall in desperation.You could see the blue that the popsicle he had earlier stained on his tongue.

Muffled and heavy, San’s voice travels through your cunt when he speaks. “Babydoll, look at me.” You force your head to crane back down and look at him.

His mouth between your thighs and his eyes stare up at you with a burning intensity that you can feel in your stomach.

“There she is, hi baby.” Keeping his eyes on yours, he teases your clit with suckling kisses, his fingers gently dragging through your slick folds as he watches your face fall in pleasure.

The sweat on his brow and your arousal on his lips, you feel like falling apart. “Keep looking at me while I eat this pussy. Please?” he whines as he begs, but the sly smile on his face is all telling as his fingers slip inside of you and curl up, his tongue laving flat over your puffy clit.

The hand on your thighs rubs gentle circles against the soft skin, all the while his tongue draws patterns on your clit, and his fingers work you inside out like he knows your body like the back of his hand.

“F-fuck… San…” you whine, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, his warm mouth almost too much for you.

“Don’t whine,” he groans, curling his fingers harder inside of you. “You’re not nearly wet enough, and I’m a big boy baby.” He smiles around your clit, his teeth nipping at it gently.

Your muscles tense, and you moan drunkenly at each press and prod of his thick fingers; each slip of his tongue has your brain fogging over.

“Need you to cum at least once before I fuck you, I might hurt you, beautiful.” All sweet sugary words, but the sinful grin and the precise way he works out your cunt make everything he says fall on deaf ears.

“So get nice and wet for me, soak yourself, so I don’t break you when I put you through this wall.” San’s fingers move faster, deeper, his lips staying attached to your clit as he sucked on it greedily, and your legs began to shake.

His promises make your orgasm fly towards you faster, and coupled with him suckling on your clit, he moans lowly around it, the vibrations setting your nerves on fire. 

“I feel you, you’re right there.” San’s fingers press against your G-spot with the perfect pressure, circling the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot with mind-melting purpose. “Keep your eyes on me and cum on my tongue, mkay?” 

Your breath shudders in your lungs, and your hips buck against his mouth, and then you’re shattering around his fingers. Your entire body shakes as he drags his fingers against your walls slowly, his tongue lapping at your clit to help you ride it out.

“There you go, that's it… let it go, baby.” You whine loudly, gripping his hair so tightly he growls in pain, but his fingers never cease their movement, his lips moving away from your clit and peppering kisses against the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Rock your hips, let it run its course… like that. Such a good listener.” Your hands eventually fall from his hair, your body twitching, his warm tongue dragging up your inner thigh and licking the sweat of your skin.

With one final kiss to your knee, he lifts himself from below you and backs you up against the wall, giving you no room to run. His forehead presses against yours, a hungry glint in his eyes as his hands cup the underside of your thighs and lift you against the wall, secure in his big arms. His mouth finds yours again, all heat and desperation on his lips as he kisses you into a fever.

“San, it's too hot, please…” You cry pathetically. “Take it off.” San groans and flattens his tongue against yours, drool slipping down your chin as he kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy.

He’s holding you against the wall with just the force of his body alone, reaching down and pulling your shorts and panties off your legs. Your tank top is next, all but ripping it off your body. He reached back and pulled his own sweat-soaked top over his head, throwing it across the heated hallway.

His mouth dips down and takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his thick tongue around it and sucking hungrily. You whimper, your hands flat against his back, your nails scratching pretty red patterns against his skin as the stimulation rocks through your nervous system. 

He kisses up your chest, along your neck until his mouth slots with yours once again with a sick kind of greed. “Need you so bad…” he groans against your lips, massaging your thighs as you feel him line his leaking tip up with your fluttering cunt. Hot and pulsing against you, you bite his soft bottom lip and look up at him, your eyes glazed over and begging for him.

He wraps his hands around the back of your neck, his forehead firm against yours. His dark eyes bore into yours like he’s trying to peer past them, and you’ve never felt so exposed.

You feel as he teases your entrance, just barely slipping the tip inside of you. You began to shy away, your eyes fluttering shut to escape his heated gaze. But San’s hands cup the back of your neck harder, fingers locking at your nape, brushing his lips over yours a little less gently this time.

“Stop running.” He purrs dangerously, and slowly he slides his cock inside of you. Each inch that breaches your walls, he stops when your eyes roll, and only continues filling you up when your eyes meet his once again. 

Your mouth falls open against his, he pushes further inside of you, and every pulsing inch of his length grazes your walls so perfectly. San winces and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the warmth of your insides thinning his string of composure.

“Taking it so fucking good, babydoll, such a needy pussy, she’s sucking me in.” His thumbs stroke your heated cheeks, and he catches the drool that slips down your chin, promptly sliding his thumb in your mouth.

“Keep your spit in your mouth, baby. We’re already messy enough, don’t you think?” When his hips press flush against yours, you sigh aloud, feeling so full your bones rattle in satisfaction.

San’s brow furrows, keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulls his hips back slowly, dragging every thick inch of his dick against every nook and cranny of your insides, sliding back in with a low moan.

You whine around this thumb, his fervent eyes making you want to cry. You could not escape his gaze, his hands, his thick, hot cock splitting you open against your hallway wall. He rolls his hips into you, his fat tip nudging that spot deep inside that makes your legs clench around his hips. The hands on your neck hold your head steady and still so you can’t look away, and he’s easing into a rhythm.

Lazy and deep, he slides in cock in and out of you like he was trying to rock you to sleep, but the pressure only made your body tingle. Your fingernails rake up his back, and San winces, kissing the corner of your mouth, grinding his cock so sincerely into you that your moans come out in sad, desperate gasps.

“Yeah baby…” he coos against your skin, the resonant sounds of your slick cunt trying to suck him back in each time he glides out, sending your brain into overdrive. “Slow, deep strokes. Let you feel everything…”

His thumb presses down against your tongue, and your eyelids shake, doing your very best to keep your eyes open. “San..” you mumble around his thumb. San cranes his head upwards so he was looking down at you, his lids low and his mouth parted in continuous soft moans.

Every time he bottoms out, he's sure to grind into you, to really torture you, forcing you to feel every thick centimeter of him brushing every nerve inside of you. He eases into a meaner pace, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and dragging it down your bottom lip. His hands move to the front of your neck, his fingers cradling your jaw while his thumbs press against the sensitive soft spots on the sides of your throat.

He presses just hard enough to limit your airflow, and your head begins to buzz quietly. He drags his hips back slowly one last time before he sinks back in with renewed vigor, fucking you hard and deep against the wall.

Pounding your pussy with a passion that made your chest flutter, moaning weakly as he stared down at your bliss twisted face with nothing short of pure adoration. And maybe a bit of pity. He was kind of bullying you, but he wouldn’t say he was loving watching you struggle to take his cock.

Struggling to accommodate his change in pace, struggling to breathe around deep strokes and feeling so full it felt like you had no space to take in oxygen.

“Pretty little girl…” he bites out around a bassy whine, pressing his thumbs harder against your throat. “You feeling full, babydoll?”

You can’t even nod with the hold he has on your head, and you cry out when he targets a hard, sharp thrust against your sensitive gspot.

“I know baby....” he taunts you with his pouty voice, teasing you about your sensitivity. “But it feels so good doesn’t it?” San swallows your swollen lips in a consuming kiss, grinning when he feels your moans fall down his throat. “Doesn’t it?” he murmurs into your mouth.

“Y-yes! Fuck.. feels s-so good..” you cry against his lips and hes fucking you harder, driving his cock into you with a force that has your slaps of skin echoing down the dimly lit hallway.

“Yeah…” he laughs lowly, biting your tongue playfully. “No more running, you take it like you’re meant to sweetheart. God you’ve been driving me fucking crazy.”

His breath stutters when you clench around him, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against yours, directing his gaze to the nasty sight below. His thick cock rutting into you smoothly, you cream coating the length of him with each thrust, your cunt sucking him back in like it had a mind of its own.

This pulls a loud, deep moan from San, and you take a moment to attempt to catch your breath now that his attention was directed elsewhere. He slows down to really watch the way he slides in and out of your guts, mesmerized by the sight. He’ll pick up the pace again, transfixed over how your bodies connected, how your bodies seemed to crave each other.

The slick coating your inner thighs, the sweat trailing down the rolls in your stomach, the drops of wet that fell down the dips in his abs. He was addicted in the best way.

“Do you understand how crazy you make me feel (Name)?” He’s working his way back up to that deep punishing pace, gathering drool in his mouth before he’s spitting on his cock as it slips in and out of you, drunk off the feeling of your warmth around him.

He drags his eyes back up to yours and his gaze is feral, and you can’t help but whimper pathetically. Rolling his body into yours his pace grows sloppy, too lost in the pleasure, soft, heavy moans falling from his lips.

“Please, need you to cum again. Not gonna stop- fuck… not till you cum. Please, baby…” San begs lowly, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his warm tongue dragging across your skin, his warm pants of breath fanning over your ear.

He’s adjusting the angle of his hips, searching for that perfect angle to send you over the edge. Your nails dig harder into his back, and you nearly squeal when he hits that spot just right.

“Right there?” San groans, and he stays just like that, pounding against that sweet spot nice and rough, and blood pumps, and your brain melts as he fucks you against the wall with the sole intention of unravelling you.

“Mmhm, right there. C’mon babydoll, jus’ wanna be good to you. Jus’ wanna make you feel good, you turn me on so much. Fuck, it's insane.” He's rambling, your moans drowning out his low voice when he slots his lips with yours in a wet kiss.

You stutter over your breathless words, trying to tell him you were cumming, but he can feel you, he can feel you pulsing around him and gushing all over his cock.

“Fuck!” you whine, your thighs shaking around his hips as he fucks you through your orgasm, rocking his hips into you to drag that climax out of your body.

His hips slow to a heavy grind, your constant clenching making his sensitive cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” San whines, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Look at me, please, baby.” He whispers against your lips, his hands holding your face like you were everything. “Look at me while I fill you up.”

You bite your bottom lip and whimper softly, giving him those sweet little needy eyes. “Wan you to cum in me Sannie…” you whine, your breath fanning over his lips. “Please, wanna feel it spilling out of me.”

San’s eyes roll, his breath laboured and breaking. He presses his lips to yours, sinking his cock deep into you one more time before he’s cumming, filling you up with his seed. He groans into your mouth, his deep noises cracking as he rolls his hips into you, fucking your pussy full of him, riding his orgasm out with your spent body.

“Fuckkk me…” San runs his tongue over yours, his breathing coming to something calm as his high finishes washing over him.

As soon as you catch your breaths, you glance up at him expectantly. “You think we could turn the AC on now?”

San raises an eyebrow and laughs out loud. “You still hot, sweetheart?” You smile and half roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m certainly not cold, San. I think we got a little distracted.” He smiles so softly it makes your heart go fuzzy, and he's kissing you tenderly and slowly. You giggle against his lips when his hands gently caress your sides, helping you down off the wall and onto your feet.

You stumble a little bit, but he catches you, being sure to make sure you don’t crumble to the floor. “Well, let’s see then.” 

He reaches next to him and slides open the closet door, and lo and behold, the AC has defrosted. He leads you over to the thermostat, and with a flip of the switch, you can hear the familiar whirring of your functional HVAC system, and you nearly cry tears of joy.

“Well would you look at that, good as new.” San smiles, his little dimples on show as he massages your shoulder. “It’ll take a minute for the air to cool but you should be good for now.”

You pat his chest and wipe the side of your neck. “Next time it frosts over I’m just coming to your place, no way I’m sitting in the heat like that again.”

San lowers his lips to your neck and kisses it softly with a smile, tickling you. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad now was it?” He murmurs, his hands hooking at your hips and pulling you closer.

You barely resist his soft touches before you’re shimmying away. “You’re all sweaty San, you need a cold shower, bad.”

He clicks his tongue as he follows you to your bathroom. “Hey, you literally are too, if not more than me.” With a click of your bathroom door, you pull him inside and run the cold water, sighing softly as he kisses you stupid against your vanity mirror.

Your free spirit of a cat is perched on the windowsill of your neighbor’s apartment, meowing softly at San’s cat, who’s sprawled on the floor in the comfort of the working AC in his home.

She bounds down onto the floor and nuzzles up against the male cat, purring softly. 

One problem after another is solved. Your leaking fridge, your cracking floorboards, and now your AC. Next on the list is probably trying to find out how your cat keeps breaking and entering your neighbor’s house.

But you’re sure he won’t mind, you’ll be seeing a lot more of each other after all. 

[stxrrywoo]

WHAT WAITS IN THE WOODS ── j.wy

synopsis ; being dragged out to the forest nearly against your will was bad enough, but when you find yourself under the hunt of a very angry forest entity you realize just how much you regret not staying home in your warm bed.

pairing(s) ; wooyoung x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 8.7k ☆ ── genre ; DARK THEMES!!!, psychological horror, smut, lowk angst, leshy/forest entity!wooyoung ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, predator/prey dynamics, DUBCON BORDERING NONCON!!!, unprotected sex, his blood is used as a sort of aphrodisiac, monster fucking, wooyo is pretty mean (sorry not sorry), roots/twigs used for bondage, biting/marking, wooyoung refers to reader as 'human' quite a bit, fear play, big dick!wooyoung/monster cock, petnames (honey, sweetheart, little/sweet/my/pretty thing/mouse, mouse...), dom!wooyoung x sub!reader, lowk mind breakage, outside sex (do not recommend lmaoo), choking (in both a sexual and nonsexual light), slight breath play, size kink (if you squint), bulge kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, extreme power play, cervix fucking/bruising, fingering, clit play, collaring (lightly depicted), cum eating, wooyoung is just straight up nasty (don't say I didn't warn you), degradation and a sprinkle of praising (in a condescending way...), blood and slight blood consumption, breeding, creampie, forced penetration, slight dacryphilia, a sprinkle of manhandling, wooyoung is a bit sadistic, begging, rough sex, mentions of claiming reader's soul (just don't disrespect the forest lmaoo), usage of magic (not fully depicted tho), wooyoung is a forest entity and can shapeshift, lmk if I missed anything!! ☆     ── notes ; I may.... have gone a little sir crazy with this one folks.... hehe not gonna complain, and we can send a special shout out to @ja3hwa, @klllerwaifu & @jitaewoo (my loves fr) for beta reading and giving me your thoughts, MWAH!!

⏤͟͟͞͞ JOIN THE TAGLIST ── MASTERLIST NAVI ── MAIN NAVI

"You guys, we really shouldn't be doing that." Your voice came out half annoyed, half weary as you watched the two guys in your group take turns throwing empty beer cans into the woods.

You really didn't plan on being out here in the middle of the forest when it was starting to cool off as the sun set. The coat you were wearing wasn't that thick, and the chill of the wind was biting your skin through the thin fabric. Then, to top it off, your best friend had dragged out her boyfriend and his friend, both of whom grinded your last nerve into dust.

"Oh lighten up, some y/n, we're not hurting anything." One of the guys looked at you with a cocky smirk, and you just looked at him with a deadpanned expression.

Not really in the mood to deal with them, you just rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a ranger of some kind marching their way over here and giving you an earful. So you just walked over to the tree lines, rubbing the palms of your hands against your biceps.

Looking around the darkening trees, you couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, as if someone or something was watching you. Goosebumps littered all over your clothed skin, and a chill ran down your spine. Dread churned in your gut the longer you stood there, the hairs on the back of your neck standing tall, and you glanced over at the rest of the group.

A look of disgust crossed over your face when your best friend pulled her boyfriend down for a sloppy kiss while the other guy just watched with a smirk. Inhaling deeply, you turned and walked towards your bag, rummaging through it for your phone. However, as you turned on the screen, the little icon at the top showed that you had no signal.

"How long are we going to be here?" You asked, shoving your phone into the back pocket of your jeans before turning to look at the small group of three.

Upon hearing your voice, your best friend turned her head to look at you, allowing her boyfriend to start kissing her jaw, "Why are you in such a rush? Have a little fun."

With a scoff, you rolled your eyes, then snatched your backpack off the ground and dusted the stray flecks of dirt off before slinging it over your shoulder. Then, with one last look at your best friend, you shook your head as they went back to sucking each other's faces off.

"Whatever, you guys do what you want, but I'm heading back before the sun goes all the way down." You tell them, not even bothering to turn your head when they call after you in protest.

Small curses and grumbles fall from your lips as you trek back through the woods, trying to remember the way Jiho had taken to get up here in the first place. You made a mental note to never let them drag you along to the middle of nowhere again, or much less anywhere after tonight.

The sun was starting to rapidly set, and the further it went down, the more anxious you started to feel, that feeling of someone watching you starting to come back. However, you tried to swallow your nerves and continued on your path, but then you heard it.

Crack. The soft sounds of footsteps, too quiet to be human but too loud to be something small.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you turn your head to look in the direction of where the sound had come from, a shaky hand reaching behind you to grab your flashlight. Your heart hammered in your chest as you held the metal object in your hand, a sense of dread washing over you. A small part of you didn't want to shine the flashlight; the fear of what might be out there was too strong. However, as the sound continued and began getting closer to you, you began to feel terror flooding through your veins.

So, flicking on the flashlight, you bring it up to look between the trees with bated breath, but you don't see a thing. All you saw were trees and a few flashes of movement as the sound of rushed footsteps went in the opposite direction, meaning you probably scared the animals.

"God, y/n, you're being paranoid. Just get back to the car and go home." You murmur to yourself as you pull the flashlight away from the treeline and face the direction you had been.

Yet as you began to walk, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something wasn't right—that this wasn't the path you had taken before. But you just brushed it off as paranoia.

"Y/n." Then you heard your best friend's voice, distant and somewhere on the opposite side of you.

Fear washed over you, blood running cold as your feet came to a halt once more, eyes darting all around you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood tall once more, goosebumps littering your skin as a sharp gust of wind blew over you.

"Maia, this isn't fucking funny." You cursed as you shouted out into the trees, heart hammering against your rib cage. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you continued to shine your flashlight across the darkened trees.

"Y/n…" Then you heard Maia's boyfriend's voice on the other side, causing your body to whip around, the flashlight now facing that way, but, just like before, you didn't see a sign of anyone.

"Guys, knock it off." You exclaimed, eyes darting around the dark forest, regret slowly clawing its way into your mind. Not only did you regret even coming out here with that insufferable group of people, but now you regretted leaving them to wander the woods on your own.

Then you saw a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you were almost one hundred percent sure that they were just fucking with you. Some of your fear simmered into anger, and you turned your body towards where the movement was, walking towards it. A string of profanity and grumbles fell from your lips as you stepped over logs and sticks, flashlight shining on the path in front of you.

"I swear to god when I find you guys…" Your voice trails off as you realize that you had just walked further into the forest, not a clue as to where. Your heart dropped as you looked around at your surroundings.

Trees.

All trees.

That was all that you saw for miles on end, not a sight of any clear openings. Your stomach churned violently as you looked back at the way you came, carefully making your way back, not caring if your friends were in the woods somewhere.

Your fingers were wrapped so tightly around the handle of the flashlight that it was turning your knuckles a ghostly shade of white. The fear that was pumping through your veins also had you forgetting about the cold winds that blew around you, swaying the trees almost menacingly. Tears involuntarily filled your eyes as you looked around, but nothing looked familiar.

"Son of a bitch…" You cursed weakly, stopping once you came to a realization that you didn't know where you were, much less where you were going.

Hoping that maybe you'd have some kind of signal, you pull your phone out of your back pocket, turning the screen on, only to be met with no service and a low battery. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you pulled your notification bar down, confused as to how your battery died so quickly when it had just been almost full, not even thirty minutes ago. Then your eyes flickered up to the time, and your heart sank.

'3:02 am'

Wasn't it just a little after midnight when you checked back at the opening? Fear started to cloud your brain, and your hands began to tremble violently as you started to check everything you could, because there was no way you had been stuck in these woods for four hours. Tears blurred your vision as you frantically checked the time over and over and over again, but it was the same every time. Eventually, the device slipped from your hands and tumbled to the ground below your feet.

"S-Shit." You cried as you quickly crouched down to grab the phone, but a soft sound of a growl had you stopping in your tracks. Your heart seized in your chest, and you slowly lifted your head, blinking some of the tears away as you brought the flashlight up with a shaky hand.

Nothing.

A lump formed in your throat as you didn't see any signs of any kind of animal that could've made that noise. Your ears began to ring as your heart thumped against your ribcage with a bruising force. Then you heard it again from behind you, and your body fell to the dirt ground, palms digging into the sticks and rock, but you didn't care as you looked around.

"Y/n… where are you?" You heard your best friend's voice again, but this time it sounded almost distorted, like it was coming from a static radio.

Something wasn't right; you knew that much, and you still were left feeling uneasy over the fact that you had been in these woods for over four hours. There was just no way someone had to have messed with your phone.

That was it. It had to be. There was no other explanation, and as you tried to listen for the sounds of growling, you began to think that you might just be losing your mind. Your bottom lip trembled as you shone your flashlight around the area, but you didn't see a thing.

Until you did.

There in the far distance, you were sure that there were a pair of beady black eyes staring right at you, and fear seized your brain. Your heart lurched in your chest, and you felt bile creep up the lining of your throat, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

You couldn't make out what kind of animal it was, but you knew for sure that it was something large. It almost looked like a bear, but its fur almost looked like it was covered in moss, its eyes begining to glow a bright blue hue, and was that… blood around its mouth? The ringing in your ears grew tenfold as it began to move, the tree branches snapping underneath its weight. Fear kept you frozen in your spot, tears blurring your vision, and as much as you wanted to, you just couldn't get your limbs to move freely. Then it began to creep closer, its pace picking up, and your fight or flight senses were kicked into overdrive, your body scrambling to get to your feet, taking off further into the trees, not caring that you had left your phone and backpack lying on the ground.

Heavy breath racked your lungs as you ran further and further into the forest, eyes glued on the path in front of you, knocking any stray branches out of your way. You weren't even sure that the thing was even following you anymore, your body not even allowing you to stop and look, at least not until you came to an opening, right before a cliff.

You came to a screeching halt as you looked down, but all you saw was impending darkness, just waiting to swallow you whole. Tears continued to stream down your face as you turned your head, body whipping around to check if that creature was still there.

Nothing.

All you saw was darkness and the trees that it swallowed. Your heart raced in your chest, and you felt like your knees would've given out on you at any given moment. Something in your mind was screaming at you to run, to try and get back to your friends and the car. But your fear kept you rooted in place.

"Y/n…" Then your blood ran cold, a draft of wind wafting right over your ear, and you could feel goosebumps rising on the side of your neck, as if someone had just breathed against you. The voice wasn't one that you recognized, far too distorted, too rough, too inhuman.

"W-Who's there?" You called out weakly, trying your best to hold back your cries, but when the light of your flashlight began to flicker, you felt your stomach turn, heart dropping. "No, no, no, not now, you stupid thing." You cried, beating the end of the object against the palm of your hand, hoping that it would stabilize, and it did.

…

Before going out entirely. Leaving you shrouded in an inky blackness.

"N-No, please." You sobbed, trying anything you could think of to get the thing working again, but it was futile.

"You know…" There was that voice again, and as it rang in your ears, your movements stopped, eyes snapping up to the treeline, darting all around to try and find sight of who—what was talking. Whatever it was, it wasn't human; no human sounded so distorted, much less echoes. "You humans never seem to learn."

Your stomach twisted into painful knots as you heard it growing closer, the tears in your eyes obscuring your vision. Then you heard a rustle, causing you to look over, seeing merely a shadow in the woods, nothing more, and you couldn't tell if it was a figment of your imagination or not.

"You come into my woods," It spoke, this time more human-like and even closer, causing you to stumble back, feet merely inches away from the edge. As you turned your head, your stomach dropped, realizing just how close you were, dread filling your veins, and you started to believe that you were going to die here tonight.

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when a harsh gust of wind blew over you, and the feeling of something wrapping around your throat made your heart begin racing. Opening your eyes, your breath caught in your throat as you saw a man standing in front of you, or what you could call a man. Its onyx hair sat neatly on its head, some kind of headwear resting on top, but what caught your eye was the small skull of an animal that was perfectly sat in the center. Then its eyes, glowing a dark blue hue, a hue that had you trembling in its hold because just as you as suspected… it wasn't human.

"Harm my home," It growled, fingers tightening around your throat, causing you to cry out, fingers clawing at its arm. It felt as if tree bark was digging into your skin, rubbing it raw, and slicing open a few wounds. "Then you think you can just leave?"

"I-I—" You tried to speak, but were only cut off by a pitiful squeak when it tightened its hold even more, nearly cutting off all of your oxygen supply. Tears spilled endlessly from your eyes as you tried to fight against its hold, but it was futile; whatever it was was way too strong.

"I should just throw you off this cliff," It spoke, bringing its face closer to yours, and the strong scent of dirt invaded your senses, nearly making you gag. Yet as black spots began to cloud your vision, you furiously shook your head, nails digging into its arm, "but I feel like I could get something better from you."

Then its grip loosened, fingers still wrapped snugly around your neck, and yanking your body away from the edge. Choked sobs racked through your lungs as you swallowed as much air as you could, unsure if its grip would tighten once more.

"I-I didn't do anything, please." You begged, voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen, and the creature just looked at you, amusement gleaming in its now onyx eyes.

"Nothing?" It asked, thumb pressing right against your pulse point eliciting a cry from your tear-soaked lips, "Oh honey, you may have done nothing, but that's exactly why you're here."

You looked up at it through your teary vision, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as you tried to rack your brain for what could possibly lead you to where you are. Then everything came crashing into you like a tidal wave. You recall many stories from your childhood about an entity that resided in these woods. No one ever saw it, and those who did didn't live to tell the tale. It was a protector of the forest, the animals, and the trees alike.

He was what they called a Leshy.

A new wave of terror washed over you, heart nearly stopped in your chest. You watch in horror as a wicked grin spreads across his face, the point of his canines peeking out from underneath his lips. He watched in sick amusement as your pupils began to dilate, your mind becoming foggy with so much fear.

Then everything went black.

—

When you woke up, all you could distinctly remember was the pungent smell of dirt, the smell making your throat close up. Blinking open your eyes, the first thing you saw was the clear blue sky, tall trees swaying around it. Confusion creased in your brow as you slowly sat up, palms stinging as you did so. Then a dull pain was felt around your neck, causing you to bring your hand up, only to pull it back with a jerk, hissing in pain.

"What…" You began to ask, but then flashes of everything came back. Your friends are messing around in the woods, and the walk back to the car, except you never make it to the car. Then there is that creature in the woods, and finally, that man—creature—that held you over the edge.

Your heart began to race once more, panic surging through you like a harsh jolt of electricity. A dull ringing began in your ears as you scrambled to your feet, eyes darting around for any sign of that creature.

"Oh? You're awake?" There it was… that voice that was far too ominous to be fully human and it sent a chill down your spine.

Your head whipped around, eyes searching for where it may be, but you couldn't find anything. Even in the broad daylight, the woods around you looked dark, a blackness that threatened to consume you whole if you got too close.

"I always loved this look on humans." There it was behind you this time, head snapping over you, caught sight of something moving just beyond the trees, but was gone as soon as you saw it, "so scared…" To your left this time, "so helpless…" Then to your right, "so pitiful…" Now it was in front of you, but before you could turn to look, a gust of wind washed over you, causing you to flinch, and a loud, blood curdling scream erupted from your lungs when it appeared in front of you, "and so easy to play with."

"P-Please…" You choked out, tears brimming in your eyes once more as you finally got a good look at its appearance. His onyx hair was still neat upon his head, and that same headwear was still sitting perfectly on top; his eyes, which you distinctly remember as glowing blue, were a dark chocolate brown. The more you looked at him, the more human he appeared to be, except you could see patches of his skin that scarily resembled tree bark.

"What are you pleading with me for, sweetheart?" He asked, head tilting slightly as a wicked smirk spread on his lips. Crouching down, he rested his arms over his legs, hands loosely between his knees as he looked at you.

"Let me go, please. I didn't do anything wrong." You cried, tears blurring your vision as you crawled back to create more distance, but it seemed like it was impossible because no matter how much you moved, he always stayed in that same spot… just an arms reach away.

Upon hearing your words, Wooyoung's head tilted even further, that smirk faltering into a sneer, and eyes narrowing into slits. Then suddenly the sky went black as if it had suddenly become night, and pure terror hit you.

"You see little thing, that's where you're wrong." His voice dropped an octave, sending chills throughout your body as you tried to find him again, his form not to be seen. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall, and you felt his presence before he even spoke, "ever heard of guilty by association?" He asked, voice right next to your ear, causing you to scream again, scrambling to your feet before taking off into the woods.

You frantically swiped branches out of your way, ignoring the burning in your thighs as you kept running and running and running. Another scream fell from your lips when you were stopped by that same animal-like creature from the night before, its beady eyes staring at you, and a low growl reverberating from its chest. Shaking your head violently, tears spraying around you before you turned in the other direction and took off once more, screaming for help.

"Such a silly little thing," there was his voice again, but this time it felt like it was coming from all around you, and your heart sped up in your chest, eyes focused on the path before you, "no one's gonna hear you out here." His ominous voice was followed by a dark chuckle, the sound sending small, needle-like sensations through your body.

Whatever he was, he was right. This forest stretched on for miles, and there's no telling where the nearest campground was. More tears spilled from your eyes, but you weren't going to stop, not here, not now. So you ran and ran until you physically couldn't anymore, body collapsing to the forest ground with ragged breaths and choked sobs.

"P-Please… just leave me alone." You screamed, the sound rubbing the lining of your throat raw as you looked around in the pitch darkness. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of your sobs and the shrill ringing in your ears.

"Stupid girl." His voice was a growl, and your heart seized as you saw that creature before, but as he stalked closer to you, it began to shift and morph, until he was standing right before you. Your breath caught in your throat the closer he crept, his eyes glowing that all too familiar blue hue, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall.

"N-No—" You choked on a sob as you frantically shook your head, crawling back as he stalked closer until your back hit the rough bark of a tree with a gasp.

"You're in no space to be making demands, little mouse." He spoke to you in a voice that was far too calm, the vibrations ringing in your head as you stared up at him. Then he stopped right in front of you, his shadow casting over you, and it felt like you had just been locked in an ice box, the chill nipping at every one of your nerves.

Then he was gone.

The darkness that had been shrouding the sky vanished, bringing back the same blue sky that you had seen before, with clouds floating mindlessly above you. Sobs tore through your throat as you pulled your knees up to your chest, burying your face between them.

What was happening, and what was this creature targeting you when you didn't even do anything? More and more questions spiraled through your mind, but all went unanswered. Your whole body trembled as you sat there like a helpless animal, sobs echoing off the trees.

You weren't sure how long this whole game of cat and mouse went on, but your perception of time started to twist violently. Sometimes it was bright as day, and then the next it was pitch darkness, the only source of light coming from the shrinking moon. You couldn't even tell what time of day it was; it felt as if you were trapped in a separate dimension, with no hope of getting out.

Wooyoung watched from the shadows with a wicked smirk, his blue-hued eyes locked on your pitiful form as you ran like a mouse through the woods. Your clothes had been reduced to tatters at this point; your jeans were ripped in many places, and some spots were drenched in blood where you had been caught by a stray branch or rock when you fell. The sweater you once wore was torn at the shoulder, revealing the dirt-smeared skin underneath. Then your shoes had long been lost, falling off in all of the pursuits.

"Run, run little mouse," Wooyoung's dark chuckle echoed all around you as you continued to zigzag between trees, tears once again flowing down your cheeks and your chapped lip soaking in the salty moisture.

The sky above you had once again turned black, with no source of light to be found, as a new moon sat quietly among the dim stars. So you ran blindly, small cries falling from your lips when your arms caught the rough bark of trees. You didn't want to run anymore, you were tired, and your head was pounding, but as you heard that low, ominous growling behind you, your body refused to let you stop.

You couldn't even be sure how long this went on for, hours… days… weeks… months? You didn't know, but it felt like you were starting to go insane. The tears you had once been sobbing, slowly turned into silent cries, throat sore and rubbed raw due to all the screaming and crying.

Then you broke through the tree lines, finding yourself in a clearing, an eerie feeling consuming you as you realized that it was a near-perfect circle. Your knees felt like jello as you slowed to a stop, misty eyes scanning the area, heart raging in your chest. He was somewhere, you knew he was—feel that he was near.

"P-Please," You choked out, voice hoarse as you stepped further into the opening and had to catch yourself a few times. "I'm…" Your breath caught in your throat, your voice getting lost in the wind, and the stinging brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. Then you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, knees buckling underneath you, and you collapsed to the forest ground, palms digging into the rocks and sticks.

The sound of branches snapping causes you to lift your eyes, a pair of black boots appearing before your vision, stopping mere inches away from you. Tilting your head back, you felt a violent chill course through you upon seeing his lips curl into a wicked grin, his eyes flashing that deep blue. He crouched down in front of you, hand reaching out to catch your chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Have you finally come to your senses little thing?" He asked, voice echoing around you, and you flinched when his grip tightened on your chin.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry." You croaked out, throat tightening in on itself as you mustered out an apology. Your brain was screaming at you to run, but your body begged to just give up, wanting nothing more than to allow his darkness to surround you. To end this little game of tag that you were ultimately gonna lose every time.

"Are you really?" Wooyoung asked, tilting your head up even more and cranking your head back, pulling a weak cry from your chapped and split lips as the once scabbed-over wounds tore open.

"P-Please, I'm sorry—" You choked on another cry, shaky hand moving to grab his wrist when he encased your throat. "I'll do anything, please— please don't make me run anymore. Please, please…" Your pleas trailed off, that same word falling from your lips as Wooyoung watched with a wicked grin.

"There is a way…" He spoke, silencing your pointless begging, and your jaw fell slack when he tightened his fingers around your throat, fingers pressing right against your pulse point. A choked gasp fell from your lips when he tugged you closer, your hands falling to the ground to stabilize yourself. "Give yourself to me—body and soul. Only then will I forgive your transgressions."

You didn't even let yourself think about it too long before nodding your head to the best of your ability with his tight hold on your neck. There wasn't anything you wouldn't do to make this madness stop, to finally let your body relax.

"Remember, there's no backing out now, little mouse." He told you, a sinister undertone to his voice, and it left your stomach in knots. Then, in quick movements, he had you in his arms, body limp over his shoulder as he walked away.

You squirmed in his hold, tears dripping from your eyelashes and falling to the forest floor, allowing the soil to soak them up. All of your bones felt like dead weight as you tried to break out of his hold, but a mixture of your exhaustion and his hold kept you from going anywhere.

Fear began to bite at the edges of your being, dread washing over you as you realized that you had no idea what you had agreed to. However, you weren't given a chance to question it before he was moving your body again, back, hitting the ground with a hard thud, pulling a sharp cry from your lips. Your heart leaped into your throat when Wooyoung brought his face down to yours, his breath fanning your face and causing you to flinch.

Your stomach churned once more as the familiar scent of dirt filled your senses; the scent no longer made you gag, but rather left an uneasy feeling bubbling in your gut. Then his fingers ghosted over the exposed skin underneath your top, and you began to understand the weight of his words. Panic washed over you as you started to thrash in his hold, sobs falling from your lips, followed by screams.

"You're so noisy, human. No one is going to hear you. I thought you already knew that." Wooyoung cooed against your skin, his lips brushing over your jaw and your eyes screwed shut.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs as your bottom lip trembled, spews of pleas falling from them only to fall on deaf ears, and fear nestled deep within your bones. Fighting against his hold was pointless; he was too strong—he was always too strong. So you stopped, your body going lax beneath him, causing the humanoid creature above you to smirk as he moved his hand further up your shirt.

"Such a good little mouse now, huh?" He cooed, bringing his face to your neck, his nose brushing along your jugular and inhaling your scent. His fingers brushed the skin right under your breasts, goosebumps rising along your skin under his cool touch.

A weak cry fell from your lips, hands finding his arm as he grasped your covered mounds in hopes of pushing him away. However, it only seemed to piss the entity off, and he snatched your hands in his free one, pinning them to the ground above you. A sharp gasp fell from your lips when you felt something coil around your wrists, eyes snapping up to see twigs and roots wrapping around your wrists, keeping them pinned in place.

That didn't keep you from fighting him anyway, legs kicking as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of your jeans. Tears blurred your vision as he watched in sick amusement, but it quickly morphed into a sneer when your foot caught his side, your bare foot pushing against him in a futile attempt to push him away.

"You're just making this harder for yourself, mouse," He growled, cold fingers wrapping around your ankle and pinning it to the ground, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. Leaning over your body once more, he brought his face merely inches from yours; the feeling of his breath fanning your soaked cheeks had you shivering. "Why don't we make this a little easier, hmm?" He asked, a sinister gleam in his glowing eyes as you opened yours.

"I-I can't— no, please." You cried, tears blurring your vision as you gazed up at him, shoulders straining hard against the binds your arms were in.

Wooyoung brought his hand to your face, grabbing your jaw and squeezing your cheeks enough to make your lips pucker up. Then he bit his thumb, breaking the skin, and beads of murky reddish brown liquid pooled out, and before you could react, he shoved it into your mouth. You nearly choked when the bitter liquid touched your tongue, it took him holding your mouth closed after removing his thumb, to swallow it.

Muffled sobs racked your lungs as your eyes screwed shut, your body feeling floaty for a moment, and then a gasp fell from your lips. Wooyoung moved his hands from your face, a smug grin on his face, leaving you with a sense of dread. Then you felt it. An overwhelming heat encased your entire being all at once. Your skin felt far too warm for the chilling winter air, and you felt like you were swallowing down gallons of excess saliva. And as soon as Wooyoung's fingers brushed across the exposed skin of your exposed stomach, a whimper fell from your lips, core throbbing in the confines of your jeans, and you pressed your thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the pressure.

"There we go, sweet thing, now you'll stop fighting me, won't you?" Wooyoung cooed, bringing his face to yours once more, and your eyes fluttered as his breath fanned over your face. A part of you knew you should still be terrified of the thing above you, but the more the heat enveloped your body, the more that fear melded into something more—something needier.

Your breathing became ragged as you twisted your hips, the pressure starting to hurt, and another whimper fell from your lips. Chuckling, Wooyoung pried your thighs apart, slotting his body between them. His scent engulfed every one of your senses as he leaned close to you, barely any space between your bodies, and it began to turn your brain into mush. No matter how much you tried to fight against the feeling, it just proved to be fruitless; whatever he did to you was too strong.

"It hurts." You huffed out, fingers balling into fists above your head, and you were itching to touch him, suddenly wanting to feel his rough skin against yours. It felt as if your brain was starting to shut down, body and mind becoming overtaken by something that felt like it was burning you from the inside out. It left you lying there, body begging to be touched, to be filled, to be ravaged.

"Does it?" Wooyoung asked, tone cocky as his fingers wrapped around your hips, pulling them flush against his and soaking in the choked moan you let out when he pressed against your aching core. His fox-like eyes were tracing every curve of your face before taking in your teary eyes, pupils fully dilated until barely any of your irises were to be seen.

Your brain went completely foggy, the fear you once felt coursing through your veins now a long-forgotten memory. Now all you felt was the insatiable need to have him touching you, kissing you, filling you. You were sure that your underwear was soaked due to the way it stuck uncomfortably against your skin.

Wooyoung's lips curled into a sinister smirk, reaching for your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at him when he noticed the glaze that had fallen over your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at him, his eyes glowing blue, and the intensity had you squirming in his hold.

"H-Help me… please." You plead, hips subconsciously rutting up against his in the desperate search for some kind of friction. A shiver coursed through your veins when you felt his fingers slip underneath your tattered sweater. The heat was starting to make you feel like you were going insane, like an animal that was fully succumbing to its primal instinct. Your leg hooked around his waist, trying to pull his body impossibly closer, and the tears that had once been sitting on your waterline broke free, joining the others that had been sitting on your flushed cheeks.

"You sound so much sweeter like this little mouse," The dark-haired creature mocks you, his nose bumping against your cheek before his tongue jutted out, lapping at the stream of tears that were falling from your eyes. Working his way towards your ear, he pulls away to blow against your heated skin, soaking in the whimpers that fell from your lips before speaking, "so needy and completely under my control."

"P-Plea—" Your words caught in your throat as his hand moved from your hip towards your center, cupping your weeping heat and chuckling as he felt your slick soaking through the rough fabric. A choked moan tore through your lips when he began to add more pressure, your legs beginning to tremble around his hips, and the Leshy just watched in sick amusement.

Chuckling darkly, Wooyoung pressed his lips against the curve of your jaw before nipping at the skin, eliciting a whine from your parted lips. He continued toying with your body relentlessly, soaking all of your sounds before he finally pulled his face from your neck and took in your dazed expression.

"Don't worry, my sweet little human, I always take care of what's mine." Something about the way he spoke that last word left your body tingling, your brain caught on the sound of his voice, and the way his hands wandered your body.

Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as you watched him move to sit up, hands falling to the button of your jeans. Your fingers wiggled above your head when he quickly undid the clasp and all but ripped the fabric from your body. A sharp gasp fell from your lips when his fingers stroked just over your covered pussy, humming when your slick soaked his finger. You wanted to beg him to do something—anything, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was ripping the thin piece of clothing away as well.

"You smell so sweet, little thing." He cooed, leaning over you once more as his fingers split your folds. Then his lips were over yours, swallowing the moan that tore through your lips when he pressed down on your aching clit.

"O-Oh god." You choked out, back arching against his chest when his fingers moved down to your leaking slit. Wooyoung chuckled against your lips, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your skin. His other hand held tightly onto your hip, locking you into place as he slips two fingers into your needy, drooling cunt.

"There is no other god here but me, little mouse." He tells you, his voice sends shivers all throughout your body, and your walls are squeezing around his fingers. Your fingers curled into fists above your head as your eyes rolled back, the slightest of touches making you feel as if you could cum right then and there. Feeling your walls squeeze around his digits, Wooyoung pulls his face from your marked neck, eyes memorizing your face as it morphs into all sorts of pleasures.

You couldn't even warn him before your orgasm was washing over you like a tidal wave, eyes rolling back. White spots clouded your vision, nearly obscuring it altogether as your back arched against his chest. Your legs shook violently around his hips, threatening to snap shut if it wasn't for his body standing between them.

"A desperate little thing, aren't you human?" He berated you, angling his fingers to reach even deeper in your fluttering walls, the speed knocking all the air from your lungs. You tried to tell him that it was too much, but all that came out was incoherent babbles, and the creature offered a wolfish grin.

You mewled at his words, already feeling another orgasm building in your gut, nearly toppling over the edge. The heat that still engulfed your body was starting to burn hotter, screaming at you that it needed more and leaving your mind in a delirious state.

Your pussy was leaking so much that it was spilling past his fingers, down your ass, and pooling on the dirt ground below your body. The sight and your scent had the creature's mouth watering, tongue licking over his teeth, and that was when you caught sight of his sharp canines. Biting back a groan, he bent down once more, lips latching onto the skin of your neck and nipping at the flesh, nearly puncturing it. The soft cry that fell from your lips was like music to his ears, and with another curl of his fingers, you were coming undone again.

"A-Ahh!" You choked on a scream when his thumb pressed down on your clit, prolonging your orgasm until it felt like you were about to explode. Wooyoung murmured something against your skin, but you couldn't hear it over the ringing in your ears. Then you felt it, that knot in the pit of your stomach snapping, and your release gushed out in waves, drenching his hand and the ground beneath you.

"Look, my mouse, you've made a mess." He mocks you, pulling his drenched fingers from your quivering hole, and a broken moan fell from your lips at the loss of contact. Your glossy eyes pleaded with him, the words falling from your lips were simple pleas, and the onyx-haired creature grinned before bringing his fingers to his face. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning at your scent, and a whimper slipped past your lips when he stuck his slick-covered fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up every last drop. "Such a sweet taste, my oh my."

Just then, another wave of heat washed over your body, stealing all of the air from your lungs, and your eyes squeezed shut. Your jaw fell slack with a loud whine, back arching off the ground, and Wooyoung just watched in amusement. His hand then fell to the bottom of your tummy, pushing your body back down and pulling a choked gasp from your swollen lips.

"Now to claim you as mine." He growled, leaning back on his knees to tug at his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the ground off to the side. Your eyes grew wide at the size of his cock, something you had only seen in saucy comics; your mind screamed that it would break you, but your body begged it to.

Catching your chin in his fingers once more, he ghosted his lips over yours, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. Just as a gasp fell from your lips, he was sealing them with his, the tip of his monstrous cock prodding at your entrance. Your body went stiff in his hold, and he could only chuckle darkly, lapping at your bottom lip after biting it, droplets of blood coating your skin.

"Relax, little mouse, you can take it." He murmurs, hands finding your hips as he begins pushing in, kissing your open mouth as your jaw falls slack. Then the binds that were once holding your hands in place disappeared, and your hands flew to his back, nails clawing at his back. His pace wasn't gentle as he continued to bully his cock into your tiny cunt, not caring if you had relaxed or not.

"H-Hurts." You whine, back arching against him as more tears spilled from your eyes, only to be caught by Wooyoung's lips, teeth nipping at your cheek, causing you to shiver.

"Take it, human," He growled against your skin, teeth gritting when your nails raked up his back, the further he pushed into your pussy. Your sobs were like the sweetest melody in Wooyoung's ears, a sick grin spreading on his lips as he pulled back just enough to watch your face twist in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Then, when he bottomed out, you gasped, eyes rolling back at the full feeling, and you swore his tip was pressing past your cervix. He barely gave you a chance to adjust, much less breathe, before he was slipping back out and thrusting back in roughly.

"F-fuck!" You cried out, fingers falling to his forearm as he sat up to piston his hips into yours, watching your eyes roll back once more.

"You're so tight, sweet thing, making such a good cocksleeve for me." Wooyoung groaned, his bottom lip catching between his teeth, and his grip on your hips growing tighter until his rough skin was digging into your skin.

Your body felt like it was on fire, your mind clouding with so much pleasure that you no longer had any proper words or thoughts forming. Drool spilled past the corner of your lips, trickling down your cheek, and incoherent babbles fell from your lips. The pleasure was so overbearing that your legs began to tremble around Wooyoung's waist, hips fighting against his hold to rut up into his thrusts. You could feel that coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter at an alarming rate with every drag of his cock in your walls.

Leaning down, Wooyoung's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he lapped at the spit that spilled from your kiss-swollen lips, your hand finding the back of his neck, nails biting at the skin. Another choked moan fell from your lips when one of his hands moved from your hip to your lower tummy, pressing down and making you feel him even more.

"Look, mouse, I can see my cock moving in your cute little human pussy," He cooed, adding more pressure to your abdomen, swallowing your mewls as he pulled you into a sloppy, spit-filled kiss. He groaned into your mouth when your walls clamp down around him, hugging his cock so tightly it made it nearly impossible to move.

Your moans seemed to rise in pitch every time the smooth head of his cock pushed against your cervix, threatening to push past. Stars began to dance across your vision, and Wooyoung looked at you with a cocky smirk, watching you completely lose yourself underneath him. Moving his other hand from your hip, he let his fingers ghost over your skin until he got to your throat, encasing the soft flesh in his palm, loving how small your neck was in his hand. Well, how small you were compared to him in general.

"C'mon, pretty thing, say my name." He nudged his nose against your jaw and whispered his name into your ear, the air of his breath making goosebumps litter across your skin.

"W-Wooyoung!" You all but screamed his name when his thumb moved down to press against your twitching clit, sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

Wooyoung could tell that you were close once again as your nails began to dig into the skin of his shoulder, your cunt squeezing around him like a vice, begging to keep him in. Tightening his grip on your throat, he picked up his pace, his hips snapping into yours at an almost feral pace, and white spots clouded your vision as your oxygen supply dwindled.

"Cum human." He growled against your lips, "Make a mess all over my cock while I fill you with my seed."

You choked out a whimper when his thumb circled your clit harshly, and your eyes rolled back when that familiar knot formed. The pressure was almost too much, and your hand moved to try and shove his wrist away as you cried, but he didn't stop and nipped at your jaw.

"Wooyo—" Your words caught in your throat when his grip tightened even more, limiting your oxygen entirely until your vision began to fuzz. Then your whole body was convulsing underneath him as you squirted for the second time. Your release soaked his cock and the ground beneath your body, adding to the pile underneath you.

"Such a good little mouse," He cooed, letting his lips trail from your jaw down to your neck, nose nuzzling against your jugular, your sweet scent invading his senses. The choked mewls that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, loving how fucked out you sounded.

"W-Woo—" His name spilled from your lips as he continued to fuck his cock deep into your walls, bruising your cervix as his pace grew almost animalistic, chasing his own high. The sensitivity had your body burning, almost as if a fire were trying to consume you whole.

Wooyoung's cock twitched in your walls as they squeezed around him, and he groaned into your skin, hands moving back to your hips, allowing you to breathe properly. His fingers dug into the fat of your hips, using them as leverage to fuck into your gushing pussy, his high right on the tip of his tongue. Then your fingers found the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging, and that pulled an animalistic growl from deep in his throat.

"Gonna fill you full of my seed so your pathetic little human body has no other choice but to get pregnant." He growls deeply, voice dropping an octave, and you whine loudly, shaking your head violently, "claim you as mine and mine alone. To use as I see fit, isn't that right, mouse?" He chuckled as your body trembled, the sensitivity causing another high to build up rapidly.

"Fuck!" You cried out, head falling back on the hard forest ground, when he continued to abuse his cock into your swollen cunt, sending your aching body right over the edge once more.

Black spots clouded your vision, threatening to black out entirely as your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train. Your orgasm triggered Wooyoung's, and he sank his teeth into the junction of your neck as he buried himself in your walls, tip pushing past your cervix as he spilled his seed deep in your womb. The warmth made your brain short-circuit, eyes rolling back before your vision threatened to go black entirely.

"Mine, all mine." Wooyoung murmurs against your skin, tongue jutting out to lap at the crimson blood that began to seep out of your wound. The sensation had you whining, fingers digging into his shoulder.

As your high began to wear off, you came to the terrifying realization of what just transpired. The fear that had once been pushed to the back burner was now brought to the front, but Wooyoung pinned your body to the forest ground. His eyes flickered blue, and it felt like your brain started to go blank once more, allowing his hand to snake up to your neck once more.

A weak whine tore through your lips when you felt the ground tremble beneath you, roots and twigs encasing your throat. They were snug against your skin but not nearly enough to cut off your oxygen supply, but when Wooyoung pulled away with a devilish smirk, you felt your heart spike.

"You can't run from me, human," He chuckled darkly as he kept your body pinned beneath him, his cock still buried deep in your walls. "You belong to the forest you disrespected. You belong to me."

You began to open your mouth to protest and plead with him to let you go, but suddenly those words fell from your tongue, replaced by nothing but his name. Your brain fogged over, and it was as if everything you once knew became a distant memory, and the only thing you could remember was the creature perched on top of you and how good it felt to have him in your aching walls. He was right…

You now belonged to him and the forest.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[jaysbaefie]

clueless | sjy

synopsis: in which your best friend finally stops pretending, and one confession ruins your oblivious friendship for good.

genre: best friends au

pairing: best friend!jake x oblivious!reader

warnings: jealous!jake, possessive!jake, touchy!jake, hard dom!jake, dub-con-ish, jake is strong, manhandling, groping, messy makeout, biting, tit play, oral (f.rec), spanking pussy + tits + ass, face slap, clit play, fingering, masterbation (m.), cock slapping? he cums on readers face, light bondage, unprotected p in v, creampie, some cuteness at the end to tie it all together!!

wc: 11.7k+

a/n: yall asked and yall have received. this one by a LANDSLIDE on the pole i put out a few days ago and lucky yall i was already like 3/4 done w this fic anyways. this is literally pure filth and i had sm fun writing this. bsf jake is literally what keeps me going istg. anyways…hope yall enjoy! as always notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ

you're sitting cross-legged on jake's bed, a carton of pad thai balanced dangerously on your knee, ranting about your latest situationship like it's a normal tuesday night and not a personal attack on his blood pressure.

jake is leaning against the headboard beside you, one arm casually draped behind your back—not even touching you, just hovering, like he's ready to pull you into him at any second.

he's acting like he's listening, nodding at the right beats, but his eyes keep dropping to the hem of your shorts. they're barely shorts at this point, basically denim underwear, and every time you shift, they ride up higher. he's suffering quietly.

"so then he ghosted me for two days," you say, stabbing your fork into a noodle like you're reenacting a murder. "and suddenly he texts me like nothing happened. men are insane."

jake's jaw ticks in mild frustration, he forces a shrug. "yeah, he sounds... busy. maybe he has a lot on his plate."

i don't care. i don't care. i don't care. his mind is in absolute shambles right now.

you blink at him, annoyed. "you told me last week that guys who disappear like that 'should step on a lego and rethink their life choices.'"

"well," he says slowly, eyes flicking to your bare thigh before snapping back up, "maybe stepping on a lego would give him perspective. doesn't mean he's bad. just... confused."

he's giving terrible, contradictory advice on purpose, trying to gently sabotage any chance of you forgiving this man. but you miss all of it, too focused on your rant and your noodles.

you shove another bite into your mouth and keep talking, oblivious. jake's hand drops from behind you to your thigh, warm and heavy as he gives it a little squeeze—casual, friendly, like he's always done that. because he has. because jake has made touching you look normal for years.

you don't even flinch when you feel his grip tighten on you slightly. "do you think i should give him another chance?"

jake stares at you, expression flat. "no." that shouldn't even be a question, you shouldn't give any man who isn't him a chance.

"but you just said—"

"i lied," he says plainly. "don't date him. he's... not your type."

"you don't know my type."

jake scoffs, watching a noodle you failed to keep on your fork land on your thigh. "i know everything about you." he watches your expression morph into one of defeat before he's reaching his fingers out to grab the stray noodle and sneak it into his mouth.

and he does, jake knew you like the back of his hand, painfully so.

you stretch your legs out, half laying against him, your head dropping onto his shoulder like it's instinct. jake stiffens for half a second before melting, his body curving around yours like he was designed to hold you.

"ugh," you groan. "why can't i just find someone normal?"

jake stares at the top of your head, his fingers brushing absently along the inside of your knee, tracing small circles like it's nothing. like he isn't one wrong move from losing his mind.

he clears his throat. "maybe you're just looking in the wrong places."

"where am i supposed to look?" you mumble, mouth full again.

"i dunno," he says, gaze locked on the way your lips wrap around your fork, "maybe... closer."

you don't catch it, of course you don't.

instead you just scoot even closer to him, thigh pressing against his, stealing some of his fries like you always do. jake lets you, leaning into the touch, smelling your shampoo, watching as another stray noodle falls onto your shirt. he plucks it off without hesitation, choosing to flick it away this time.

you laugh. "thanks, mom."

"i'll remember you said that next time you're crying about someone ghosting you."

you hit his arm lightly but he catches your wrist, fingers wrapping around it, thumb rubbing lazily over your skin. he's smiling but his eyes are sharp, warm, lingering—like he's memorizing the way you feel under his hand.

but you don't notice a thing. you're already going on about another red flag your situationship displayed, gesturing wildly while still half in his lap.

jake just watches, letting you rant, letting you lean into him, letting you stretch out across his bed like you own it. like you own him.

and honestly? you do.

"you're too good to me," you sigh dramatically, looking over at your best friend. 

jake laughs under his breath, low and a little bitter. "yeah," he says quietly. "i know."

your phone buzzes beside your thigh.

jake's eyes snap to it before you even glance down. the name flashing on your screen makes his entire body go rigid. it's the situationship idiot —the one who's been ghosting you, breadcrumbing you, ruining jake's sanity for weeks.

you reach for the phone but jake is faster. he snatches it first, holding it above his head like a relic he plans to yeet into the sun.

"jake!" you shout, scrambling into his lap to grab it. "give it back!"

the position shouldn't be normal. it shouldn't be casual. but you've done this a thousand times— climbing over him, knee pressed between his legs, one hand braced on his chest as you stretch up to reach.

your t-shirt barely hides the curve of your chest, you were practically smothering his face—and jake didn't mind it one bit.

jake swallows so hard he might choke. "why do you need to text him back right now?" he asks, voice too calm to be real.

"because he messaged me," you say, fingers grazing the phone but not grabbing it.

jake's eyes flick down, you're straddling him. you don't notice but he absolutely does.

his hands curl around your waist automatically, steadying you like he's afraid you'll fall—or like he's afraid he'll let go.

"you can reply after we finish eating," he tries again. "or in... a week."

"jake."

"what?" he says, blinking innocently. "i'm helping."

you finally get a grip on your phone and tug it out of his hand. he lets it go, but reluctantly, like he's handing you a loaded weapon.

you drop back onto the bed, legs still draped over his, and open the message.

jake leans over your shoulder immediately, chin practically resting on you. "what'd he say?" he mutters, eyes narrowed like he's assessing a threat.

you read aloud, "he said: sorry i disappeared, things have been crazy at work. i wanna make it up to you. drinks this weekend?"

jake exhales sharply. "wow. romantic. he's really outdone himself."

"you're being dramatic."

"i'm being honest," he shoots back. "he's a loser. you shouldn't go."

you look up at him. "and why not?"

he holds your gaze for a beat too long—warm brown eyes, pupils blown a little, intensity simmering just below the surface.

then he shrugs, voice low. "you're gonna get your feelings hurt. again. and then i'll have to listen to you cry. again. and you ugly-cry, so that's an extra layer of torture for me."

you gasp. "i do NOT ugly-cry."

jake just raises a brow. you don't, you look pretty when you cry. jake quite enjoys the flushed look on your face, but it aches him that your crying over losers and not because his dick isn't down your throat.

you throw a pillow at him. he catches it, smirking, then lays down fully on his back, arms spread like he's claiming the entire mattress.

you fall beside him automatically, head splayed over one of his arms.

he turns his head toward you, eyes soft. "don't go."

you freeze. "what?"

"don't go on the date," he repeats softly, almost gentle. "just... stay here instead. with me."

you laugh it off, nudging his shoulder. "jake, i'm not ditching someone for movie night."

"ditch him for me," he says, no hesitation. "you do it all the time."

you blink, he's right. you absolutely do.

you've cancelled plans—actual plans—because jake didn't want to watch a movie alone, or because he was bored, or because he wanted boba at midnight and didn't want to walk alone.

but that was different, that was friendship. obviously.

"you're being clingy today," you tease lightly, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.

"i'm always clingy," he says. "you just never notice."

he says it like a joke, but it lands too heavy.

your phone buzzes again. before you can even move, jake flips onto his stomach, throws an arm across your waist, and physically pins you to the bed.

you let out a small squeal at his sudden actions, squirming in his hold.  "enough," he mutters into your shoulder. "if he texts you one more time, i'm blocking him."

"you can't just—"

"watch me."

you're half laughing, half exasperated, half aware that his entire body is pressed over yours, warm and solid and familiar.

you shove at him weakly. "get off, you menace."

"no," he mumbles. "you're comfy."

"jake..."

he lifts his head slightly, eyelashes brushing your skin. his voice drops to something almost vulnerable—something that slips out before he can stop it.

"just stay with me tonight."

your breath stutters and he feels it. he looks away immediately, pretending he didn't say anything real. you pretend you didn't hear something real.

the phone buzzes again. jake tightens his arm around you, jaw clenched.

you don't move this time and jake... jake notices.

jake's arm is still wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm, like he's trying to anchor you to him. you should probably get up or at least check your phone.

but you don't and that tiny decision ruins his self-control.

you feel him exhale against your neck, slow and shaky, like he doesn't want you to notice. his fingers—resting right at the curve of your waist—start tracing thoughtless circles into your shirt. lazy, slow, claiming circles. the kind that send a little shiver down your spine.

jake feels it. his hand stills for half a second... then starts again, softer this time, more deliberate.

you're too busy pretending to scroll through food delivery apps to process it.

"what're you doing?" you mumble, a subtle flush coating your cheeks.

"touching you," he answers bluntly, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

it is normal for him, he's always touchy. always grabbing your wrist, fixing your hair, pulling you by the waist, resting his head on your lap when he's tired.

you don't think twice. but tonight? tonight he's different.

his hand slides from your waist to your hip, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of your shorts. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.

he hears it. "you okay?" he asks, voice low, almost smug.

"just hungry," you lie, a terrible lie at that. you had just devoured take away minutes ago.

he laughs softly against your shoulder, his nose brushing your skin. that alone sends heat shooting straight through you—something you ignore immediately.

"hungry for what?" he teases, catching onto your lie.

you shove his arm weakly. "food, idiot."

"mm. sure."

he doesn't move away. instead, he shifts closer—practically molding himself to your side. his thigh slides against yours, his knee nudging between your legs just slightly as he gets comfortable. accidentally. or maybe not, you can't tell.

your heart stutters. jake notices everything, especially things you don't realize you're doing.

he props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit, his hand brushing your ribcage as he pushes your hair out of your face.

"you got sauce on your cheek," he murmurs.

you reach up to wipe it but he catches your wrist mid-air.

"i got it."

and then—way too gently—he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. except his thumb lingers, longer than necessary. brushing your lip once, twice, slow enough that you swear he's doing it on purpose.

your chest tightens, you force a laugh. "okay mom."

jake's eyes flick down to your mouth. his thumb leaves your lip, but he doesn't pull his hand away. he lets it drift along your jaw, curling lightly behind your ear, like he's pushing your hair back just to keep touching you.

"do moms do this?" he asks quietly. the tone—warm, teasing, dangerously soft—makes your stomach flip.

he leans in just a little closer. close enough that you feel his breath when he talks.

"or this?"

his hand slides from behind your ear, down your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point for the briefest second.

you freeze. your phone buzzes. again.

jake's jaw flexes, and his hand drops to your waist, grip tightening possessively.

"you gonna get that?" he says, barely masking annoyance.

"i... dunno," you mumble.

"good," jake whispers, leaning in until his forehead almost touches yours. "don't."

his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt this time, barely there, just the pads of his fingertips brushing your bare waist. testing. waiting to see if you'll pull away.

you don't and that's all he needs.

he lets out a small breath—relief, disbelief, hunger—then slides his hand fully onto your skin, warm and steady on your waist, thumb tracing slow circles again, this time deliberate. claiming.

"you're staying with me tonight," he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges.

you swallow hard. "jake..."

"no," he says, shaking his head just slightly. "don't say my name like that."

"like what?"

"like you don't know what you're doing to me."

your heart stops. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too intimate. and jake... jake is staring at you like he's wanted to say that for years.

your heart is beating stupidly fast. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too charged.

jake's hand is still under your shirt, his thumb tracing slow, burning circles on your bare waist. he's hovering over you, eyes pinned to yours, and for a second—just a second—you swear something is about to happen. something irreversible.

his gaze drops to your lips and your breath catches.

you don't move and jake—jake looks like he's seconds away from doing something he's been holding back for years.

"jake..." you whisper.

his fingers press a little deeper into your skin. "yeah?"

you open your mouth—

RIIIING RIIIING RIIIING.

you both jump.

your phone lights up between you two, vibrating violently against the mattress like it's possessed. the moment snaps in half. the tension dissolves like it never existed.

jake curses under his breath and jerks his hand away from your waist like he touched a hot stove.

you sit up way too fast, hair messy, face flushed, pretending you weren't about to let your best friend climb into your bloodstream.

"oh—uh—my mom's calling," you blurt, even though you haven't even looked at the caller ID.

jake scoots back immediately, expression neutral but ears bright pink. "yeah. yeah, answer it."

you grab your phone, awkwardly clearing your throat. "h-hello?"

jake stands from the bed like it's on fire. he runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little, avoiding eye contact like the plague.

you talk to... whoever... on the phone, but you're barely listening. your mind is spinning.

did that just happen?

no. no, it couldn't have. it was jake. your jake. clingy, touchy, overly affectionate jake who once held your hand for thirty minutes because you saw a spider and screamed.

this is normal. he's always like this.

he wasn't gonna kiss you. that's crazy.

meanwhile jake stops pacing just long enough to glance at you—your flushed cheeks, your dazed eyes, the way you're tugging nervously at your shirt.

his jaw clenches, he looks away again. when you hang up the phone, the room is weirdly silent. awkward in a way it's never been.

you try to laugh it off. "okay, wow, that was... dramatic."

jake forces a smile. "your ringtone scared the fuck out of me, not gonna lie."

"same," you giggle. "i thought something exploded." you wait for him to make a joke. tease you, say something flirty and dumb like he always does.

but he just nods. "yeah."

you tilt your head. "jake... are you good?"

he blinks once. twice. then shrugs way too casually. "yeah. why wouldn't i be?"

"you're... acting weird."

"no i'm not."

you squint at him. he avoids your eyes, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie like it suddenly became fascinating.

you shrug, letting it go. "okay, whatever. do you want the rest of my noodles?"

jake finally looks at you—soft, fond, longing. too much. he covers it instantly with a smirk.

"yeah," he says, ruffling your hair like he didn't just have his hand under your shirt two minutes ago. "give them."

you laugh and shove the container into his hands, the moment already fading in your mind.

because that's just jake, he gets weird sometimes. touchy. clingy. possessive. but he's your best friend, so none of it means anything.

right?

jake sits beside you again, shoulder pressed to yours, stealing a bite of your food like nothing happened.

but his hand stays firmly on his thigh now, not daring to slip his hand to rest somewhere on your body.

and you don't notice—but he doesn't look at you again for the rest of the night.

.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ

you don't even notice when jake closes the distance again.

one second you're scrolling through your phone while waiting for your friends to arrive; the next, jake is suddenly behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder like he belongs there. his arms wrap around your waist as if it's the most natural thing in the world, sliding under your hoodie and settling warm against your stomach.

"you're early," he murmurs, breath brushing your neck. you squirm slightly at the feeling, your neck feeling tingly.

"and you're clingy," you laugh, leaning back into him without thinking. "as always."

jake smiles into your shoulder—except it's tight, a little strained. because across the room, one of your friends is watching with raised brows, mouthing see? he's so into you.

you roll your eyes at her, whispering, "no he's not, he's just touchy."

jake's arms tighten around you immediately, like he heard even though you were whispering. which he probably did—he always seems to hear when it involves him.

"what're you talking about?" he asks casually, playing innocent as he nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing your skin way too much to be "friendly."

"nothing," you wave off, patting his forearm. "they think you like me or something."

jake freezes for half a second—barely noticeable —before smoothing his expression again.

"crazy assumption," he hums, though his thumb is rubbing slow circles into your hip, his chest pressed flush to your back like he's trying to merge into you. "i just like being close to you. that's all."

your friend across the room gives you a look. jake, still pretending not to notice, tightens his hold again.

and then it gets worse—or better, depending on perspective.

you move to the couch, and he moves with you; you sit down, and he pulls you onto his lap like it's routine. he doesn't even give you time to think, just a gentle tug at your waist and suddenly your thigh is slotted between his, his hand splayed over your leg protectively.

"jake," you whisper, half-laughing, half-confused, "i can sit next to you, you know."

"yeah," he shrugs, resting his chin on your shoulder again, "but why would you do that?"

your friends stare. one of them raises their brows so high they practically touch their hairline. you wave them off, whispering, "he's always like this, don't even start—"

"always like what?" jake asks, his breath warm on your ear. you jump—he heard that? you said it so quietly...

"clingy," you say, poking his forehead. "you know. you're a koala. it's your whole thing."

jake's hand on your thigh slides just a little higher. "only with you," he says simply.

you blink and the room goes quiet for a moment. your heart skips—not because you think he means anything by it, but because you're flustered.

"you mean... because we're close," you correct yourself out loud, nodding firmly, like you're reassuring yourself more than him.

"mm," jake hums noncommittally, but the hand on your thigh squeezes gently, possessively, like he's claiming the entire limb.

the conversation in the room starts up again, but jake doesn't let you move an inch. he's touching you everywhere—knee, thigh, waist, hip, shoulder. every time someone talks to you, his hand finds a new place to rest. at one point he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your jaw a little too long.

you don't question it but everyone else does. finally, one of your friends cracks. "okay, i'm sorry, but jake, babe? you're acting like she's your girlfriend."

your breath catches—but not as much as jake's does. he smiles—slow, lazy, almost smug—and tightens his arm around your waist.

"am i?" he asks lightly, but his eyes are sharp. "hm. didn't notice."

your friend snorts. "oh, please. you're practically—"

"he's just like this," you cut in quickly, panicked embarrassment hitting you all at once. you swat at jake's chest. "tell them. you've always been touchy."

he looks at you, really looks at you, something soft and frustrated dripping underneath it.

"yeah," he finally says, voice dropping lower, more intimate, "i guess i have."

you grin, relieved. "see? nothing new."

your friend gives you a 'you cannot be serious stare'. jake presses a slow kiss to your shoulder— not fully a kiss, more like the ghost of one and whispers, "nothing new."

but the way he says it...it's a confession you don't hear. because that's jake, your jake. clingy, chaotic, glued to your side.

totally harmless.

right?

he hopes you figure it out. he hopes you catch on. he hopes you feel any of this. he was basically slamming his undying love for you in your face.

but as you shift in his lap and lean into him without realization, he knows. you don't. not yet.

and jake? jake's coming undone faster by the minute.

you don't even realize how long you've been sitting in jake's lap until your leg starts to fall asleep. you shift a little, trying to wiggle out of the pins-and-needles feeling in your thigh, but jake's hands tighten instantly, fingers digging into your hip like he's anchoring you in place.

"hey—" you laugh, elbowing him lightly. "i gotta move, my leg's numb."

"then move," he says, chin still on your shoulder. "i didn't say you could get up."

you snort, assuming he's joking—because jake jokes, that's what he does—but when you try to get off his lap, he doesn't budge. he actually pulls you back, one hand sliding up your waist, the other locking around your thigh, guiding you back down firmly until you're flush against him again.

your breath stutters. "jake—"

"where're you going?" he asks softly, almost amused, but there's something else simmering under it—something dark and territorial.

"i just need to stretch," you say, trying to twist out of his hold. jake holds in a groan when he feels you shift over his crotch, eyes shutting briefly before he's trying to think of thoughts that would kill his boner.

boner or not, he doesn't let you get up.

with one swift motion—fast enough you barely process it—he shifts you sideways, turning you so your legs drape over his thigh instead, your side pressed to his chest. the entire movement is so smooth and confident that a little gasp escapes your lips.

you freeze, your friends who've been watching this whole ordeal go down freeze.

jake acts like nothing happened. "better?" he murmurs, one hand casually rubbing your outer thigh, thumb brushing bare skin where your shorts ride up.

you swallow. "y-yeah. sure."

your friend across the room mouths, 'HE PICKED YOU UP?? HELLO??'

you glare at her, mouthing back, 'he didn't PICK me up, he just—' you gesture vaguely, as if that explains anything.

she looks like she's about to scream. jake feels your glare move off him and immediately refocuses you by nudging his nose into your neck. not subtly, not gently but like he's reminding you: look at me.

"you're tense," he says into your skin.

"because you tossed me like i'm a little dog—"

"you are little," he says, deadpan. "and you fit on me. so stop fighting it."

your cheeks burn. "i wasn't fighting—"

"you were," he says quietly. "don't. i want you here."

your brain short-circuits for a second. your friends are staring like they're watching a crime unfold.

you clear your throat and try to steer the attention away. "okay, anyway—has anyone heard from lena? she said she was coming—"

"she texted me," one friend says, but her eyes stay glued to you and jake. "she's—uh—running late."

jake's hand trails up your thigh again. slow. intentional. claiming.

"good," he mutters under his breath.

you assume he means because you're all here longer, hanging out. because jake likes group nights, right? he always shows up. he always sticks close.

"anyway," another friend says loudly, clearly trying to save you, "should we order dessert?"

your phone lights up in your hand at that exact moment.

it's your situationship, the one you like. the one you vented to jake about last week.

your thumb barely lifts before jake's hand closes around your wrist—gently, but firmly enough to shock you.

"who's that?" he asks, eyes trained on your screen.

"oh— it's just—"

"him?" jake interrupts, his jaw tightening and his teeth grinding. if you hadn't been so shocked at his behaviour you would've found this hot, cross that, you still did.

you laugh nervously. "don't start—"

he doesn't let go of your wrist. "what does he want?"

"jake," you whisper warningly, "you're being weird." you looks over at your friends who're trying their hardest to not stare at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"i'm being normal," he says calmly. except he's not. he's staring at the name on your phone like he wants to burn the pixels off the display.

"maybe he got my message," you say, shrugging.

"what message?"

"just— i told him i might be free this weekend. maybe."

jake goes completely still behind you. still like he's holding his breath, still like he's about to break something.

"you're busy this weekend," he says quietly.

you blink. "since when?"

"since... now."

you turn toward him, brows furrowing. "jake. i didn't make plans with you."

he finally meets your eyes—and it's the first time tonight he's fully let the intensity show. all that simmering jealousy he's been swallowing. all those territorial touches he pretended were casual. it's all right there, unfiltered.

"you're not going out with him," he says, voice low. your heart jumps at the tone—serious, possessive, steady.

"jake—"

before you can finish, he grabs your waist again, pulling you tighter against him, one arm banding across your middle like he's shielding you from someone only he can see.

"he doesn't want you," he says. "not really."

you frown. "you don't know that—"

"i do," he snaps, then softens his tone when you flinch. "i do," he repeats, quieter. "i know men. i know what that look means when he talks to you. i know what he's in it for."

you blink, confused. "...what?"

he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he whispers: "he wants what's mine."

your breath leaves your lungs. immediately, you laugh because it's jake—your jake—and he says dumb things all the time.

"oh my god, you're so dramatic—"

but the room is silent, your friends have turned to stone and jake? jake is staring at you like he didn't mean to say it out loud.

like the truth slipped. like he wants it back, but can't.

he swallows hard. "jake," you whisper, suddenly flustered. "you're... you're joking, right?"

he opens his mouth—you won't know what he would've said because suddenly someone knocks on the front door. loudly.

everyone jumps. the spell breaks. jake's hand loosens on your waist. your phone buzzes again.

and you exhale, convincing yourself: he didn't mean it. jake always says intense stuff. he's just clingy. that's his personality.

right?

meanwhile jake sits behind you, jaw locked, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers flexing like he's resisting the urge to pull you back into him.

this is unraveling faster than he planned and you still don't see it.

.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ

you don't realize it, but you've created a monster.

ever since that night in his lap—the one where he said too much and almost let everything slip—jake has stopped pretending he's subtle.

he's touchy. clingy. bolder than before. not hiding it anymore.

he wants you to notice. he needs you to notice.

but you don't. and every day, without meaning to, you throw gasoline on the fire.

it starts when you get ready for a party.

your dress won't zip, so you call for him—because of course you do.

"jakey? can you come here?"

he nearly punches the wall. that nickname has turned into his personal trigger. he walks into your room and stops dead.

you're standing in front of your full-length mirror, dress half-open, back bare, hair pinned up. you look over your shoulder and smile like you didn't just stab him in the chest with a look.

"help?" you ask sweetly. he should turn around. take a breath. be normal.

he doesn't.

he walks behind you, slow, deliberate, hands coming to rest on your waist before he even touches the zipper.

you tense—just barely—but don't pull away.

you never do. his fingertips drag lightly up your spine as he takes the zipper between two fingers, pulling it up inch by torturous inch.

your breath shivers. he notices.

he leans in, not even pretending anymore, and murmurs, "you should really ask someone who can handle this."

you blink at him in the mirror. "huh?"

"nothing," he says, zipping the last inch with a soft tug. "turn around."

you do, confused—and jake's eyes slowly drag down your body with zero shame. "you look good," he says, voice low, warm. "too good."

you laugh, flustered. "it's just a dress."

he steps closer, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to swipe over his lips. "you have no idea how you look."

you should catch it. the tone, the stare, the tension.

but you don't. you just pat his chest and grab your shoes and he swallows the frustrated groan he wants to let out.

later, at the pregame, the living room is crowded —which is your excuse.

"jake, there's no space," you say, scanning the couch. he shakes his head. "come here."

"where?"

he stares at you like it's obvious.

"here," he says, patting his thigh. you watch his thigh flex under his blue jeans, your eyes widening when he spreads his legs wider—inviting you.

your brain short-circuits for a moment—because he's never this blatant—but you go anyway, dropping onto his lap without thinking.

jake inhales sharply. then his hands are on your waist. holding you in place. possessive. claiming.

"good girl," he mutters under his breath.

you don't hear it—but your friend next to you almost chokes. you shift, adjusting your weight—and he grips your hips tighter, fingers digging in.

jake feels as if god was torturing him, your ass was directly over his crotch and your wriggling was killing him.

"stop moving," he murmurs into your shoulder. "you're driving me insane."

you laugh lightly. "sorry, your pants are slippery—"

"they're not," he says flatly. you shrug. "well, i'm sliding."

"you're staying," he corrects.

your cheeks warm. "you could've sat next to me, you know."

"why would i," he asks softly, lips brushing your ear, "when i can have you right here?"

you freeze and your friend mouths silently, 'HELLO????'

you pretend you didn't hear him but he knows you did.

the next morning, his patience finally snaps.

you walk into his kitchen wearing one of his hoodies—the one that barely covers anything—and nothing else.

he turns from the fridge and chokes.

"morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head. the hoodie lifts, your thighs show and jake actually sees black for a second.

"you—" he clears his throat. "you're not wearing shorts?"

you look down like you're shocked. "it's long enough."

"no," he says immediately. "absolutely not."

you roll your eyes and steal the jar he's holding. "open this."

he stares at you. at your bare legs. at your smile.

"say please."

you blink. "...jake."

"say it," he repeats, stepping closer. "please."

you groan. "open it, jakey."

the lid pops off with a violent twist. you laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "thanks."

his eyes close for a moment—because if he looks at you, he might lose control. "you can't walk around like this," he says, voice tight.

"like what?"

"like you're mine."

you freeze. "huh?"

he straightens instantly. "eat your breakfast."

you shrug it off, confused and jake watches you walk away, hoodie swaying, thighs soft and bare and his hoodie swallowing you whole.  he almost slams his head into the counter.

.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ

you're halfway through the movie when it happens—that slow, sleepy slump you always do, the one jake pretends he doesn't wait for every single week.

your head drops against his shoulder first. then his chest. then, like it's the most natural thing in the world, you curl into him, knees tucked up, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt.

and jake... jake stops breathing. because you're not even awake, and you're already ruining him.

his arm is draped around you—like it always is—pulling you against him so snugly it's almost indecent. but tonight is worse. tonight you're extra clingy, extra tired, extra soft.

"you good?" he whispers, even though you're clearly far gone.

you don't answer, obviously, but your hand fidgets again, fingertips brushing the warm skin of his stomach.

jake silently thanks every god he's ever heard of.

he glances at the screen, trying to focus, but every time you exhale against his chest, it punches air out of his lungs. your cheek is warm through his shirt. your thigh drapes across his lap like it belongs there.

and he lets it. he lets every second of it melt him down into something pathetic.

then—then the real problem starts.

you shift. innocently, mindlessly, stupidly dangerous.

you drag your leg over his, body sliding up slightly as you readjust in your sleep, and suddenly you're straddling his thigh. not fully, but enough that your weight settles on him—soft, warm, perfect.

jake's whole body locks up. his heartbeat goes ballistic.

you murmur something incoherent, nuzzling into his chest deeper, fingers gripping at his shirt like you're holding onto him in your dreams.

he is going to combust. his hands hover uselessly in the air for a full second before he grips your waist—carefully, firmly, but maybe a bit too tight —because if you move again, he is not going to be normal about it.

you're half-asleep, breathing slow and sweet, completely unaware that you're sitting directly on his thigh like you own it.

you shift again. just a tiny roll of your hips— unconscious, searching for comfort—but to jake it's catastrophic.

his jaw clenches so hard it aches. his eyes squeeze shut and his brain turns into static.

he whispers, strangled, "oh, my god... baby, please don't do that—"

you're not awake enough to hear him. or maybe you are, but you're you—which means you're clueless.

your fingers slide higher, brushing his ribs. your lips part against his shirt as you breathe.

jake has never known true fear until now. he's sweating. he's trying not to move. he's praying you don't feel how tense he is, or worse, how much he's struggling to keep himself together because you're on him, touching him, sleeping on him like you're trying to kill him without even trying.

you wiggle again. he chokes on air and that's what wakes you.

you lift your head slowly, eyes hazy and unfocused as you blink at him.

"jakey?" your voice is soft, raspy from sleep. "why're you... so red?"

he stares at you like you've asked why water is wet. you're still sitting on his thigh.

he can feel the heat of you through your little sleep shorts. his hands are still on your waist, thumbs pressing into your hips like he forgot how to let go.

"m'fine," he says, voice not fine at all. "you were just—uh—moving a lot."

you frown, still half-asleep, still oblivious, still sitting exactly where you shouldn't be sitting.

"oh... sorry," you mumble, and instead of getting off him, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck in this slow, sleepy hug that absolutely destroys whatever sanity he had left.

your chest presses against him. your lips brush his collarbone. you melt into him like you belong there.

his voice comes out low, tight, dangerous. "you're really trying to kill me tonight, huh?"

you blink. "what? i literally just woke up."

he laughs—breathless, disbelieving, windows-fogging kind of laugh—and slides one hand up your spine, fingers splayed, possessive, like he can't help himself.

"yeah," he murmurs against your ear, "that's the problem."

you shift again, confused, and jake's grip tightens automatically, almost like he's anchoring you, holding you in place, keeping you where he wants you without thinking.

you finally look down and see exactly where you're sitting.

your eyes widen. "oh."

jake groans—actually groans—head falling back against the couch. "yeah. oh."

you scramble to move, but his hands clamp around your waist, not rough, but firm, guiding you back down in one slow, controlled motion that sends shivers through your whole spine.

"don't—" he says quietly, voice wrecked. "don't move so fast. you'll make it worse."

you freeze. he stares at you, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, chest rising and falling way too quickly.

and then—soft, low, dangerous, "you have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

your breath catches. you're finally—finally—a little aware.

but jake? jake looks like he's one second away from picking you up, putting you exactly where he wants you, and showing you everything you've been too oblivious to see.

you try to move again. you really do—you lift your hips maybe an inch, ready to scramble off his thigh and pretend none of this ever happened.

but jake doesn't let you. his hands—big, warm, shaking just a little—slide from your waist to your hips, and he drags you right back down onto his thigh with a slow, controlled pull that makes your breath stutter.

"jake—" you whisper, shocked.

"no," he breathes out, forehead pressing to yours, eyes dark and wild. "stay."

the way he says it—low, rough, like he's been holding it back for months—freezes you completely. you blink at him, stunned, hands lightly resting on his shoulders.

"i— i didn't mean to—" you start.

"i know you didn't." his fingers tighten around your hips, thumbs digging in as if grounding himself. "that's the problem."

his grip shifts, sliding down the sides of your thighs before pulling you in closer—not indecent, but confident, deliberate, like he's finally done pretending.

you gasp softly at the sudden closeness, at how easily he moves you like you weigh nothing. your hands instinctively grab his shoulders. his hands instinctively stay exactly where they shouldn't.

"jakey—" you breathe.

he groans—shuddering, almost pained. "don't—don't call me that right now," he mutters, voice shaking with restraint.

"why?" your voice is soft. confused. innocent. he stares at you like that's exactly what broke him.

then he grabs your waist—firmly, possessively—and shifts you forward another inch, guiding your body with both hands like he's claiming you without permission, without shame, without fear.

his breath stutters when you end up chest-to-chest with him, thighs tightening around his.

you can feel every muscle in his body lock.

"because," he whispers, almost growling, "you're sitting on me like this, half-asleep and touching me like you always do, and you still... still don't get it."

your heart skips. "...get what?"

that's what finally snaps him. he exhales sharply, almost a laugh, almost a curse, and suddenly you're moving—gently but firmly—because jake has had enough.

his hands slide up your back, gripping under your arms as he shifts positions. in one smooth, practiced, entirely-too-strong motion, he lifts you.

you gasp as your body rises—not far, just enough that you feel light in his hands—and then he sets you back down on his lap, straddling him properly now, chest to chest, no space left between you at all.

your breath leaves your lungs. "j-jake..."

he doesn't let you pull back. one hand stays on your back; the other cups the back of your thigh, holding you in place, thumb rubbing slow circles that feel far too intimate.

his voice drops to a low, broken whisper against your cheek. "i like you."

you freeze. "i've liked you. for months. longer, honestly. more like years."

your lips part in stunned silence. his fingers tighten on your thigh—not rough, but desperate.

"and you keep... doing things. leaning on me, wearing my clothes, calling me jakey, sitting on my lap, stretching in front of me—" he shakes his head like he's spiraling, "—and i swear i've tried so hard to be normal about it."

you open your mouth, but he keeps going—the dam is broken and the truth is pouring out.

"i touch you because i want you. i get possessive because i can't help it. i'm obvious on purpose because i'm hoping—" he swallows, jaw clenching. "—god, i'm hoping you'll finally see it."

you breathe out, barely a whisper. "jake..."

"and tonight?" his thumb presses into your hip. "you don't know what you're doing to me. you never do."

you stare at him—his flushed cheeks, blown pupils, the way his chest heaves like telling you this has shattered him open.

your voice trembles. "why didn't you tell me?"

his grip pulls you closer—impossibly closer—his forehead pressing into your jaw, breath hot on your neck.

"because," he admits, voice barely a whisper, "if you didn't feel the same, i wouldn't survive it."

your hands lift shakily, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at you.

"jake," you whisper, softer than you've ever spoken to him, "i didn't know."

he lets out a breath that sounds half laugh, half agony. "yeah, sweetheart..." his fingers slide up your spine, anchoring you against him, voice low and raw. "i know."

his confession still hangs in the air—hot, heavy, suffocating—and you can barely breathe with how close he is. your legs are still wrapped around him from when he dragged you into his lap, your hands still shaking on his shoulders.

his chest rises and falls against yours, unsteady, like he ripped his heart open and now he's waiting for you to crush it or cradle it.

you swallow hard. "jake... i like you too."

he blinks. slowly. like the words didn't compute at first.

"what?" he breathes.

you nod, nervous but honest. "i've liked you for a while."

everything stops. his hands, which had been warm and steady at your waist, suddenly grip tighter. not painfully—but enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs squeeze around him involuntarily.

his jaw flexes. "how long," he says quietly.

you look down at his chest, trying to avoid eye contact. "...since last year."

jake lets out a sound that doesn't even sound human. you can't tell if it's a laugh or a groan or a curse, but it vibrates through his whole body— and yours.

his grip on your waist tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin like he's seconds away from snapping.

"last year," he repeats, voice dangerously soft.

you nod, bad idea. because the second you do, jake suddenly grabs your hips, lifts you off him for half a second, and then slams you right back into his lap, pulling you flush against him.

you could feel him, his cock molding perfectly against your cunt.  you gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance.

"jake—!" his face is inches from yours. too close. way too close.

"you liked me since last year," he says again, like he's trying to rewrite reality, "and you didn't tell me?"

your voice shakes. "i— i didn't know if you liked me back—"

he laughs again, breathless, incredulous, pained.

"sweetheart," he says, squeezing your hips as he drags you even closer, "i've been losing my mind over you."

your heart jumps. "jake—"

he cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck, guiding your face closer, his forehead pressing hard against yours.

"you wore my hoodies with no pants," he mutters, voice rough. "you'd climb into my lap during movie nights. you'd call me 'jakey' when you wanted something. and you thought it was FRIENDLY?"

your face heats. "i— i thought you were just being you—"

his fingers dig into your thigh. "being me?" he echoes, eyes darkening. "sweetheart, I was obsessed."

your breath catches. he inhales sharply, like he's trying to keep control—and losing.

"you let me touch you," he says, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, gripping, groping, exploring. "you let me hold you. you let me spoil you. and I thought—" he breaks off, shaking his head, "I thought any minute you'd pull away and tell me I was crossing a line."

you stare at him, breathless. "...i liked it."

his eyes snap to yours—sharp, hungry, disbelieving.

"say that again."

"i liked it," you whisper.

that's when he snaps. your back hits the couch cushions before you process what's happening— not rough, but fast, controlled, like he's been restraining himself too long.

he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, body pressed firmly against yours. your legs instinctively wrap around him again and he lets out an unsteady breath at the movement.

his hands slip under your thighs, lifting, adjusting, pulling you exactly where he wants you.

you gasp, mind fogging instantly. "j— jake—"

"no," he says, breathing heavily, "you don't get to look at me like that and say you liked it."

his fingers slide up your waist again, slower this time, tracing the shape of you like he's memorizing it. exploring. claiming.

"you made me crazy," he whispers against your cheek. "every day. every little thing you did. and you knew."

your eyes widen. "i didn't know—" he grabs your chin, turning your face to his.

"you knew enough," he growls softly. "you knew how you affected me. you just didn't want to admit it."

your breath trembles. his hand slides down, gripping your hip, dragging you closer until your chest is flush with his, until your thighs squeeze around him again without you meaning to.

his voice is low, ragged. "you liked me," he murmurs, "and you kept it a secret. you let me suffer over you."

his fingers trail dangerously slow up your side, over your ribcage, to the underside of your arm— not touching anywhere explicit, but enough to make your whole body arch into him.

"jake... i'm sorry," you breathe, barely able to think.

"don't apologize," he says, eyes locked on yours. "just—don't lie anymore."

"I like you," you whisper. "i've always liked you."

something in him breaks open. he exhales shakily, hands sliding down your waist, gripping harder, pulling you tight against him like he's afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his hold.

"good," he whispers, voice trembling with relief and hunger.

"because now," he murmurs, leaning down, lips brushing your jaw without quite touching it, "i'm done holding back."

his hands slide lower—firm, bold, claiming— guiding your body exactly where he wants you.

your breath hitches and your mind goes blank.

his mouth crashes down on yours before you can even breathe.

it's not gentle. it's not sweet. it's filthy—all hungry, open-mouthed kisses that taste like desperation and salt and him. he sucks on your bottom lip, hard, before biting down just enough to make you gasp, and then his tongue is in your mouth, claiming you, owning you, consuming you. you can taste the mint of his toothpaste and the heat of his want.

he sucks on your tongue, drawing it into his mouth, and you moan, the sound vibrating through both of you. his hands are everywhere—one tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to arch your neck back, the other sliding down your side, gripping your waist so hard you know you'll feel the shape of his fingers tomorrow.

"mine," he growls against your lips, breaking the kiss only to dive back in, sloppier, wetter. "all fucking mine. you understand? you're not texting anyone else. you're not looking at anyone else."

"jake—" you pant.

"say it," he demands, biting at your jaw, then sucking a harsh, wet kiss into the skin right below your ear. you feel the sharp pull of his mouth, the promise of a mark.

"yours," you gasp, and he groans, the sound wrecked and satisfied.

"fuck yeah, you are."

his hand leaves your hair and slides down, two fingers pressing against your lips. "open."

you do, without thought, and he pushes his fingers into your mouth. you suck instinctively, your tongue swirling around them, and his eyes go black with lust.

"look at you," he breathes, watching you. "taking me so good. always so good for me." he pulls his wet fingers out with a soft pop and uses that same hand to yank your shirt up and over your head in one rough motion.

your bra is next—he doesn't bother with the clasp, just hooks his fingers under the front and pulls it down, baring you to him completely.

the cool air hits your skin for half a second before his mouth is on you, hot and voracious. he licks a broad stripe over your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking relentlessly. his other hand kneads your other breast, thumb rubbing over the peaked nipple.

"so perfect," he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled. "fuck, i've wanted to do this forever." he bites down gently on the peak, then soothes it with his tongue, before moving to the other side, giving it the same rough, worshipful treatment. he's leaving dark, possessive marks all over your chest—hickeys blooming like violets, the faint imprint of his teeth.

you're writhing under him, your hips rolling up, searching for friction. he grinds his own hips down against yours, the hard ridge of his denim-clad erection pressing right where you need it, and you cry out.

"jake, please—"

"please what, sweetheart?" he lifts his head, his lips swollen, his chin wet. he looks destroyed, beautiful. "tell me what you want."

"you," you whimper. "just you."

his grip on your waist tightens, surely hard enough to bruise. "you've got me. you've always had me." he leans down again, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. you can taste your own skin on his lips. one of his hands slides down, over the curve of your stomach, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. "gonna mark you up everywhere," he promises between bites at your lips. "gonna make sure you feel me for days. every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."

his fingers dip lower, and you arch off the couch, a broken sound tearing from your throat as his fingers slip under your waistband. you're so ready for him, so desperate, you think this is it—but he doesn't go where you want. instead, his hands slide down to the hem of your shorts, gripping the fabric with a possessiveness that steals your breath.

"these," he says, voice gravelly, "are in the way."

in one rough motion, he yanks your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you bare beneath him. the cool air kisses your skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looks at you. his dark eyes rake over you, from your heaving, marked chest down to the apex of your thighs, and he lets out a low, approving groan.

"fuck, look at you," he murmurs, his hands sliding back up to grip your hips. "all mine. finally."

he doesn't kiss you again. instead, he pushes your thighs apart, his gaze locked on the wetness he finds there. a slow, predatory smile spreads across his lips.

"you're dripping for me, sweetheart. after all this time... you're gonna make up for every second i spent thinking you didn't want me."

before you can answer, he drops his head between your legs.

the first lick is a broad, slow stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you jolt, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. it's sloppy and messy immediately—he doesn't bother with finesse, just eats you out like he's starving, like he's claiming this part of you too. his tongue fucks into you, deep and wet, and then swirls around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.

you arch off the couch, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the tousled strands. "jake—oh, god—"

he hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. he's relentless, licking and sucking, his stubble scratching the tender skin of your inner thighs. you're already so close, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. he pulls back just as you're about to cum.

"no," you whine, tugging at his hair. "don't stop, please—"

he lifts his head, his chin glistening with your arousal. his eyes are dark, a flicker of that old frustration in them. "you kept this from me," he says, his voice rough. "all that time. you let me think i was just your friend while you squirmed in my lap. you think that's cute?"

before you can answer, his hand comes down—not hard, but sharp—right on your cunt.

the slap stings, a bright, shocking pain that melts instantly into a wave of pleasure. your whole body clenches, your hole fluttering around nothing, and a choked sob escapes you.

jake watches, fascinated. "look at that," he breathes, using his pointer and middle finger to spread you open to his eyes. "look how pretty you clench for me. all pink and needy."

he does it again, his palm landing firmly on your swollen flesh. the sound is obscene in the quiet room. your skin flushes a deeper shade of pink, and he groans, leaning down to lick over the spot he just spanked. "so fucking pretty. wanna see this color everywhere on you."

he moves before you can process it. one hand pins your hip to the couch as he leans up, his other hand coming down in a sharp, stinging slap on your breast.

you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. he does it again to the other, watching the skin bloom red under his palm before he ducks his head to suck the tender peak into his mouth, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"jake," you plead, writhing, "please, i need—"

"i know what you need," he interrupts, his voice a low growl. he manhandles you, turning you onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless.

he lands three sharp, successive spanks on your ass, each one making you jerk and moan into the cushion. the heat spreads through you, pooling low in your belly. he kneads the warmed skin, his fingers digging in. "gonna be sore tomorrow," he murmurs, almost to himself. "gonna remember my hands every time you sit down."

he flips you back over, his body caging you in again. his eyes are wild, hungry. he leans close, his breath fanning over your face. "you're mine," he whispers, and then his hand comes up—not to hit, but to cradle your jaw. his thumb brushes your cheekbone. "all of you."

then he slaps your face.

it's not brutal, but it's firm, a sharp, claiming sting that leaves your skin tingling. your eyes water, and you stare up at him, stunned, incredibly turned on.

he circles your clit with two fingers, his touch suddenly teasing, infuriatingly light. "this is mine," he says, watching your face. "this pretty cunt that drips for me. this smart mouth that lied to me for a year." he pushes a finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, and you whimper, trying to buck your hips to take more. he holds you down. "you don't get to decide the pace anymore, sweetheart. i do."

he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and your back bows off the couch. "there it is," he croons, scissoring them slightly, stretching you. "that tight little hole that's been waiting for me. you gonna come on my fingers? gonna make a mess for me?"

"yes—jake, please—" you're babbling, lost in the sensation of his fingers pistoning inside you, his thumb now pressing rough circles on your clit.

"say it," he demands, his own breath coming in ragged pants. he's still fully dressed, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare thighs, and the contrast is maddening. "say who you belong to."

"you!" you sob. "i belong to you, jake, only you—"

"fuck yeah, you do." he kisses you, hard and sloppy, biting at your already swollen lips. his fingers speed up, driving into you with a punishing rhythm. "gonna make you come so hard you see stars. then i'm gonna do it again. gonna ruin you for anyone else."

the coiling tension in your gut snaps. pleasure detonates, white-hot and all-consuming, radiating out from your core. you scream into his mouth as you clench around his fingers, a hot rush of wetness soaking his hand and the couch beneath you. your hips jerk uncontrollably, and he fucks you through it, his fingers relentless, drawing out the spasms until you're trembling and oversensitive.

he pulls his fingers out slowly, watching the way you twitch at the loss. he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. "sweet," he murmurs. "and all mine." he grinds his hips down, letting you feel the massive, hard length of him straining against his jeans. "but we're just getting started, baby. you think i'm done with you?"

he groans at the look on your face, his hips grinding down against you one more time, the rough denim a cruel tease. "just getting started," he repeats, a dark promise in his eyes.

then he's moving, pushing himself up off you, kneeling on the couch between your spread legs. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he yanks it over his head in one violent motion, revealing the muscular, taut plane of his chest and stomach. you reach for him, eager to touch, to feel all that heat under your palms.

he catches your wrists before you make contact, his grip like iron.

"no," he says, voice low and final. he smacks your hands away, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "you don't get to touch. not yet. not after what you've done."

"what i've done?" you breathe, confused, aching for him.

"you made me wait," he snarls, leaning over you, his dark eyes blazing. "you made me think i was crazy. you sat in my lap and wore my clothes and looked at me with those fucking eyes and said it was nothing. so now?" he unbuckles his belt with a harsh, metallic rasp, pulling it free from the loops. "now you learn."

he grabs your wrists again, pulling them up above your head. you don't fight him. you're mesmerized by the intensity on his face, the raw possession.

he wraps the leather belt around both your wrists, cinching it tight, buckling it with a definitive click. the restraint is firm, not painful, but inescapable. you're pinned.

he sits back, straddling your hips, and just looks at you. his gaze is a physical caress, hot and heavy. it travels over your bound wrists, down your marked chest, to where you're bare and wet for him. but it lingers on your face.

specifically, on the faint, warm sting on your cheek where his palm connected earlier.

a slow, wicked smile curls his lips. "look at that," he murmurs, almost to himself. his thumb comes up, brushing over the tender skin. you flinch, and his smile widens. "so fucking pretty. my mark on your face. my color on your skin." he leans down, his lips ghosting over the spot. "gonna keep it there. remind you."

then he shifts back, moving up your body until he's straddling your chest, his knees pinning your arms by your head. his erection strains against the fly of his jeans, a thick, daunting outline just inches from your face.

"look at what you did to me," he grits out, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. he frees himself, and your breath hitches. he's thick, velvety and flushed, already leaking at the tip. he fists his length, giving himself a slow, rough stroke. "all this time. hard for you. aching for you. and you played dumb."

he leans forward, bracing one hand by your head, the other pumping his cock slowly, deliberately. the swollen head nudges against your lips. "you wanna taste it, baby? wanna taste what you've been driving crazy?"

you nod, desperate, your tongue darting out to catch the bead of precum.

he smacks your cheek with the hot, heavy weight of his cock—a sharp, degrading tap that makes you whimper. "i didn't say you could." he rubs the slick head over your lips, painting them with his salt. "you beg for it."

"please," you whisper, straining against the belt. "please, jake, let me taste it."

"not good enough." he strokes himself faster, his hips beginning to piston slightly. the tip prods at the corner of your mouth. "tell me why you want it."

"because it's yours," you sob, the humiliation and need mixing into a potent fuel. "because i need it. i need your cum, please, i need to taste you—"

"on your face or in your mouth?" he demands, his rhythm becoming erratic.

"my face," you beg, the filth of the words thrilling you. "mark my face, please, jake—"

that does it. a guttural groan tears from his throat. his hand moves punishingly fast on himself. "open your eyes. look at me. watch me ruin you."

you force your eyes open, locked on his wild, dark gaze as he tips over the edge. hot stripes of cum land across your cheek, your lips, your chin. it's thick, copious, and the scent of him—musky and uniquely jake—fills the air. he rides out his orgasm, shuddering, his release painting you as his.

he collapses forward for a second, breathing heavily, before pushing himself up. he looks at his work—your face glazed, marked, utterly claimed—and a look of profound, possessive satisfaction settles on his features.

"fuck," he breathes. "perfect."

then he's moving again, unbuckling the belt from your wrists with quick, efficient tugs. before you can even rub the feeling back into them, he's flipping you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up, pushing your knees apart. his hands are rough on your sore ass, kneading the flesh he'd spanked earlier.

you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock nudge against your entrance, slick with his cum and your own arousal.

"you want this?" he grinds the tip against you, not pushing in. "this fat cock you made so desperate? you wanna feel it split you open?"

"yes! god, jake, please, fuck me—"

"beg harder."

you're crying now, tears mixing with the mess on your face. "please, i need it, i need you to fuck me, please, i can't wait anymore, please—"

he drives into you in one brutal, sheathing thrust.

you scream, the stretch overwhelming, the fullness divine. he doesn't give you a second to adjust. he sets a punishing pace immediately, each snap of his hips slamming you forward into the cushions. his hands grip your waist, surely leaving bruises, holding you in place for his use.

"tight," he grunts, his voice strained. "so fucking tight and wet for me. this cunt was made for me. say it."

"it was—ah!—made for you, only for you—"

"gonna cum in this greedy hole," he promises, his thrusts becoming deeper, more focused. "gonna fill you up so deep you taste me for days. you want that? want me to breed this pretty pussy?"

the crude words send you spiraling. "yes! yes, i want it, fill me up, please, jake, i'm gonna cum—"

"come then," he snarls, one hand snaking around to rub rough circles on your clit. "cum on my cock. squeeze me while i pump you full."

the dual sensation breaks you. you shatter around him, clenching rhythmically on his length, a broken stream of pleas and sobs falling from your lips. he fucks you through it, his own groans getting louder, more ragged.

"gonna cum," he warns, his hips stuttering. "gonna mark you inside. take it. take it."

with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and lets go. you feel the hot, pulsing rush of him flooding your core, claim upon claim. he holds himself there, shuddering, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he empties himself into you.

for a long moment, there's only the sound of heavy breathing.

slowly, he pulls out. you whimper at the loss, the sudden emptiness, the slick drip of him and you onto the couch.

he turns you onto your back again, his eyes immediately dropping between your legs. he watches, fascinated, as a thick trickle of his cum leaks out of you.

"look at that," he murmurs, voice husky with satisfaction. he pushes two fingers back inside you, easily, scooping the escaping fluid. he pushes it back in, stuffing you with his fingers, keeping his claim sealed inside. "keeping it in you. where it belongs."

everything slows down.

the room is quiet except for the sound of breathing—his, yours—still uneven, still catching. the adrenaline drains out of your body in waves, leaving you warm and shaky and strangely floaty.

jake is the first to move. not rushed. not rough anymore.

his hands, which were gripping you like he was afraid you'd disappear, loosen. they slide up your sides slowly, almost reverently, like he's checking that you're real. that you're okay.

"hey," he murmurs, voice hoarse but gentle now. "look at me."

you do. his eyes are softer than you've ever seen them—still dark, still intense, but no longer sharp around the edges. there's something almost fragile there, like everything he's been holding in just cracked open.

he brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a tear you didn't realize slipped out.

"did i—" he stops himself, jaw tightening. "...you good?"

you nod, still catching your breath. "yeah. i'm good."

he exhales, long and shaky, like he's been holding it in since the moment he confessed.

"okay," he says quietly. "okay."

he shifts closer, pulling you against his chest. this time it's careful—an arm wrapped around your back, the other cradling your head, tucking you into him like he's afraid to squeeze too hard.

you melt into it instantly. your cheek presses to his collarbone. his heartbeat is loud and steady under your ear.

for a moment, neither of you says anything. it's not awkward. it's heavy. charged. real.

"i didn't mean to scare you," he says eventually, barely above a whisper.

you lift your head. "you didn't."

his brows knit together. "i was... angry. not at you exactly. just—" he huffs a quiet laugh, embarrassed now that the heat's gone. "at myself. for wanting you that bad and thinking i was insane."

you trace a slow line over his shoulder with your finger. "i should've said something."

he shakes his head. "we both should've."

his thumb rubs slow circles into your arm— grounding, soothing.

"i just didn't think you'd ever see me like that," he admits. "i figured if i pushed too hard, you'd pull away. so i stayed... half-in. miserable."

you're quiet for a beat, then softer, "i was scared too."

he looks down at you. "of me?"

"of losing you," you correct.

that does something to him. his grip tightens just a little, like instinct. "you're not losing me."

you search his face. "promise?"

he doesn't hesitate. "promise."

another quiet moment passes. then, tentative, "so... what does this mean now?"

you smile faintly. "i was wondering the same thing."

he tilts his head, considering, then says, very plainly, "it means i don't pretend anymore."

your stomach flips. "means i get to be honest when i'm jealous. when i want you. when i don't want anyone else near you." he pauses, watching your reaction. "only if you want that."

you don't even think about it. "i do."

his lips twitch—not smug, not cocky—relieved.

"okay," he murmurs. "then it means you're mine."

you raise a brow. "possessive much?" he smirks, but there's warmth behind it now. "you already knew that."

you laugh softly and tuck yourself back into him.

his chin rests on top of your head. one hand stays at your back, steady and protective, like it's exactly where it belongs.

"i'll be better," he says quietly. "gentler. when you need it."

you hum, blushing softly. "i don't mind when you're not."

he snorts, remembering your moans and pleas for more. "yeah. i figured."

silence settles again—comfortable this time.

outside, the night feels different. not tense anymore, just open. and for the first time, jake’s not wondering what you feel.

he already knows.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[mbbvixen]

Mommy Wonho (Part 1)

Wonho x MonstaX 🌈 Mature | Explicit | MDNI Wonho finally had a free time, his former members join him to relax and to bond.

"You’re still my mommy, you know."

The words, a low whisper against the shell of his ear, sent a shiver through Wonho that had nothing to do with the warm water lapping at his chest. Changkyun’s fingers, slick and deliberate, traced the hard line of his collarbone, down to the swell of his pectoral muscle. A thumb brushed over a nipple, and Wonho’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp that was swallowed by the steam-filled bathroom.

It had started with a text.

A lazy photo sent to the group chat: a dimly lit bathroom, the water in his tub shimmering, his own muscular legs stretched out, the rest artfully obscured by bubbles. A caption: ‘The only one free tonight. Don’t be too jealous.’

The responses were immediate and predictable. A string of crying emojis, complaints about schedules, photos of dance studios and recording booths. He’d smiled, set his phone aside, and sunk deeper into the blissful heat, truly believing his night would be one of solitary relaxation.

The knock on his door, firm and unexpected, had jolted him from his calm. Wrapping a towel hastily around his waist, he’d padded to the door, water dripping a trail behind him.

And there he was.

Changkyun. Dressed in a stylish, sharp black coat, his hair perfectly styled, but with a familiar, slightly shy smile playing on his lips that was entirely at odds with his fierce public persona.

“My meeting got cancelled,” he’d said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up unannounced on a Saturday night. Before Wonho could form a coherent question, Changkyun stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into Wonho’s damp neck. “Hyung. I missed you.”

The embrace was tight, genuine. Wonho’s initial surprise melted into a warm, fond laughter, his own arms coming up to circle the younger man. His heart did a funny little flip. He missed this.

Inside, Changkyun’s eyes had drifted back toward the bathroom, from which steam still curled invitingly. “Looks relaxing.”

“It is,” Wonho had said, a playful smirk on his face. “But it’s a one-man show tonight.”

Changkyun’s gaze was direct, unblinking. “Could be a two-man show.” He’d begun to unbutton his coat, his movements casual, as if suggesting they share a coffee, not a bath. “If you’re okay with it.”

Wonho had just blinked, a slow, surprised smile spreading. “You’re serious? Get in here with me?”

“Why not?” Changkyun had already shrugged the coat off, his fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt. There was no shyness, only a quiet, determined confidence that left Wonho momentarily speechless. He’d simply watched, captivated, as Changkyun undressed with an efficient grace, his body revealed piece by piece. The lanky boy he’d known was gone, replaced by a man with defined arms, a taut stomach, some tattoos and a confident presence that was new.

In the tub, facing each other, knees brushing under the water, the atmosphere had shifted from nostalgic to charged.

“Look at you,” Wonho had murmured, his voice husky. He let his fingers skate across the surface of the water, almost touching Changkyun’s shoulder. “You’ve grown up so much. All this muscle.”

Changkyun’s eyes darkened. He captured Wonho’s hand, not letting it retreat. He placed it firmly on his own bicep. “Feel it, hyung. For real.”

Wonho did. He curled his fingers, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath the wet, smooth skin. A low groan built in his throat. The contact was electric.

“Remember?” Changkyun’s voice was soft, pulling him back. “Back in the dorms. When I couldn’t sleep. When I was... anxious.”

How could he forget? The weight of a sleepy Changkyun against his side, the quiet, trusting sighs. The feeling of soft lips against his chest, not sexual then, but a seeking of comfort, a silent plea for safety that Wonho, the group’s pillar, was always happy to provide. They’d jokingly called him ‘Mommy’ for it.

The memory hung between them, old innocence curdling into something potent and new.

That’s when Changkyun had leaned in, his breath ghosting over Wonho’s ear, and uttered those world-altering words. “You’re still my mommy, you know.”

The past was a ghost in the steam, but the present was the press of Changkyun’s body, the intent in his eyes.

Wonho’s control, the careful line he’d always drawn, snapped. A growl rumbled in his chest. His hands came up to frame Changkyun’s face, pulling him in. The kiss wasn’t soft or questioning; it was a conflagration. It was heat and hunger and years of suppressed want. Tongues tangled, tasting of mint and something uniquely Changkyun. Wonho sucked on his lower lip, and the younger man moaned, a shattered, beautiful sound.

They clambered out of the cooling tub, water sluicing off their bodies, hands roaming, unable to stop touching. They barely dried off, leaving damp footprints on the floor as they stumbled, a tangle of limbs and hungry mouths, toward Wonho’s bedroom.

The cool sheets were a shock against Wonho’s heated back. Changkyun hovered over him, his eyes drinking in the sight beneath him. “So perfect,” he breathed, his voice full of awe and lust.

He started where the memory lived. He lowered his head, and his mouth, hot and wet and knowing, closed over Wonho’s nipple.

Oh god.

It wasn’t like before. This wasn’t a nervous comfort. This was devotion. Changkyun’s tongue swirled around the tight nub, laving it, before he suckled deeply, drawing a guttural cry from Wonho’s throat. His back arched off the bed, offering himself more fully. The sensation was blinding—a direct line of pleasure to his cock, which lay hard and leaking against his stomach. Changkyun switched sides, giving the same ardent attention to the other, his free hand pinching and rolling the wet nipple he’d just abandoned.

“My mommy,” Changkyun murmured against his skin, the words vibrating through Wonho’s very bones. “All for me.”

His hands slid down, palms smoothing over the defined grooves of Wonho’s abdomen, lower. They gripped the heavy swell of his ass, kneading the firm flesh. He squeezed, pulling the cheeks apart, and Wonho gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Changkyun’s touch was possessive, reverent. He explored every inch of Wonho’s thickness, his fingers digging in, claiming. He leaned down again, nipping and sucking along the line of Wonho’s hip, moving inexorably toward his core. The anticipation was a live wire.

A bottle of lube appeared from the nightstand. The snick of the cap was obscenely loud. Wonho watched, chest heaving, as Changkyun coated his fingers, the slick sound making his mouth go dry.

The first touch, cool and slick, pressed against his entrance. Wonho’s eyes fluttered shut, a shudder wracking his entire frame.

“Look at me,” Changkyun commanded, his voice low and thick with desire.

Wonho’s eyes snapped open, meeting a gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch.

“I want to see you,” Changkyun whispered, and slowly, so slowly, he pressed a finger inside.

The stretch was exquisite. Wonho’s breath left him in a rush. It had been so long, and it was Changkyun… His head fell back against the pillows as the finger worked inward, a slow, torturous burn that quickly morphed into a throbbing need for more. A second finger joined the first, scissoring, stretching him open. Changkyun curled them, and Wonho saw stars, a broken cry torn from his lips as pleasure, sharp and devastating, shot through him.

“You take it so well,” Changkyun praised, his own breathing ragged. “So good for me, mommy.”

He withdrew his fingers, and Wonho whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But it was quickly filled. The blunt, hot head of Changkyun’s cock pressed against him. Changkyun’s eyes locked with his, asking a silent question.

Wonho answered by wrapping his legs around Changkyun’s waist, pulling him closer. “Yes.”

With a groan that seemed ripped from his soul, Changkyun pushed inside.

The world fractured.

It was an all-consuming fullness, a stretch that bordered on pain before blossoming into pure, undiluted pleasure. Changkyun buried himself to the hilt, stilling, his body trembling with the effort of control. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Wonho’s chest.

“Fuck,” he choked out. “Hoseokie hyung…”

And then he began to move.

[joonie-joon]

how would they react if they found your dildo and you both started dating not that long ago.?

Hmmm.. the not that long ago makes it kinda tricky. Because some I think wouldn’t hide their freak while others might be more hesitant at first.

I feel Hongjoong would definitely be super excited. He’s a freak and we all know it. But he’d have to make you feel a little embarrassed about it first. He’s confront you with it with fake disapproval and make you describe the types of ways you’ve fucked yourself with it and how others have used it on you. After the humiliation ritual, you would realize how turned on you actually were and catch on to his mind-game. You’d spend the evening letting him use it on you.

Seonghwa is definitely kinky but his true freakiness hadn’t been shown to you just yet. When he found your toy, he definitely suggested using it during sex. You said yes, letting him use it on you a few times and occasionally sending him videos of you masturbating with it. Finally, once he felt 100% comfortable, he would ask “so, would you ever use it on me?”

I think Yeosang would say nothing and, instead, surprise you with a wrapped gift. When you open it, it’s a brand new toy. “I thought you could use a new one since it seems the one you have has been put to good use. Do you want to try it out?” Showing you his kinky side early on in your sex-life. Spoiling you with every toy you could think of for both of you to use on each other.

Yunho would be a little jealous, becoming quiet all night after finding it until you pester him enough to drag out the confession. “Do you really need that when you have me? Do I not fuck you good enough?” He would then spend all night fucking you so good you’d never use the toy ever again. At least, not unless he wanted to use it on you.

San I think would actually be very shy about it, especially if being early to your relationship. He’d pretend he didn’t see it but then confess over text, admitting he found it hot. You’d surprise him with a video of you using it which he’d reciprocate by filming himself getting off to it for you.

Mingi would be fucking stoked. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me you used toys? That’s so fucking hot.” And when you get a bit shy and embarrassed he would only find your reaction more charming. “Don’t be shy, baby. It’s just another way I can make you feel good. Come here, let me show you.”

Wooyoung would definitely tease you about it. “Oh my god, look at the size of it!” He would yell, flailing it around. It would mortify you but also make you laugh as you tried to wrestle it from him. After your bodies tangle in the struggle, he’d ask if he could watch you fuck yourself with it. He jerked himself off while he watched you pumped it inside and out of yourself.

Jongho wouldn’t say anything I don’t think. Not right away. He just suddenly would become very adventurous and rough in bed, each time better than the last. Sometimes he would make you cum 3 times before he finally let himself climax. When you finally asked where all his new-found stamina came from, he said “I knew I had to step up my game when I found your dildo. I’ll be damned if you have to resort to using that when you have me.”

[junsfriend]

loyal puppy — sjy

SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.

PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 26k+

GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes

WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, lowkey masochist!bf Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything

A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but… I loved writing this fic so much. 

a year ago.

It’s the last year of high school, on a relatively normal walk back home. The same cracked sidewalks, the same autumn breeze, the same shy boy matching his steps beside you like he always did. Just like any other day. 

Until he decided to ruin it.

“Do you wanna… like, date?” Jake asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his uniform pants pockets, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. “You know… put a label on us. Or whatever.”

You remember almost running away out of pure instinct, soul escaping your body. But instead, you laughed. Because what the fuck was he on about?

You? Jake? Date?

The two of you were barely even supposed to be friends. He's a straight-A student teachers constantly compared you to, with those thick-rimmed black glasses glued to his face and unkempt bowl of hair. A striker on the football team who watched matches from the sidelines just as much as you did… and you weren't on the team.

And on the other hand, there’s you. Not-so-pleasant you. Considered a troublemaker because you always showed up late to class, talked back to ill-meaning adults, and picked fights with boys who catcalled too much. A rumor spread through school that your dad was a terrifying loan shark with gang ties. He’s a banker.

Assigned classroom cleaning duties was what brought you two together in the first place. It wasn’t fate. Nothing notable. You more or less picked him up on your shoulder and claimed him as a personal assistant. Someone who would fetch you water when you’re thirsty or give you answers to math problems when you were too lazy to solve them yourself. 

So why in the world did he think you two should date?

“Who put you up to this?” you wheezed between bursts of cackling. “I’m gonna beat their ass.”

Jake scratched the back of his head, clearly not amused.

“I mean… You and me?” you continued, tears of laughter blurred your vision. “We would make the worst couple ever—”

“I don’t think so.”

You froze mid-step. Jake had slowed his strides down a long time ago, but now he was completely still. You turned to find him a few steps behind, face flushed and hands by his sides. 

He’s holding something. A small, turquoise box. One that looked suspiciously like…

You felt like throwing up.

“I-I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he stammered. “What it’d be like if I were your boyfriend. If we… went on dates and stuff.”

Oh, hell no.

It’s like an immediate sense of panic overcame your body. And before your brain could process a single rational thought, you broke out into a sprint. Running down the street like a maniac. In hindsight, you probably should’ve known that you couldn’t outrun an athlete. But you weren’t really thinking, period. 

You feel a tug on your waist. Jake had already caught up to you. He spun you around, like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms, and pulled you into him. His face was close. Too close. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and a bead of sweat clung to his temple. And it wasn’t from running.

It was from you.

He looked nervous. Ridiculously nervous.

The ring box pressed into your back, and you put your palms sternly against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. It wasn’t helping.

“Jake,” you warned. “Let go of me or I scream.”

He shook his head, his arms only wrapped tighter around you. “Only if you promise you won’t run,” he replied, a sort of desperation laced in his voice. “And that you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

You bit your bottom lip, suddenly too aware of his intense gaze and how they searched yours through those big, fat lenses. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to come out right. The moment his grip loosened, you broke your agreement almost immediately. Your feet moved on their own, like fight-or-flight, as you tried to rush out of his arms. But he was one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist to bring you back right where you were.

“Really?” he asked, exhausted. “That’s not gonna work a second time.”

You glared, but your eyes betrayed you. They slid down to the turquoise ring box, still in his hand. Jake's eyes flickered in the same direction, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“I can put it away if it’s freaking you out,” he muttered, slipping it back into his pocket. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but not when his large hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

“...Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. “Now make it quick.”

Jake's heart constricted. ‘The worst thing she could say is no!’ the internet had told him. This was a lot worse, actually!

“[Y/N],” he started sharply, and the sound of your name on his lips sent shivers down your spine. He released you, only to set both his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“I… I think—” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “No. I know. I… really… really… l-like you.”

His voice was as shaky as his hands, and for a brief second, almost every part of you wanted to knock him out with your backpack because your heart was beating too loud in your chest. It pissed you off. But you held back and just… stared.

Jake, ever the hopeless romantic, had fallen for you the moment you asked him to clean the entire classroom alone while you skipped duties to hang out with your friends. He said yes, only because he has a hard time saying no, especially to someone he found so pretty. But then you laughed and told him you were joking. Told him not to bend over backwards just to please other people. Spent time with him that day when usually, others paid him no attention.

He was enamored ever since. 

But the silence between you two was suffocating, heavy enough to stall his breathing. Jake’s palms were growing damp against the fabric of your uniform blazer, and his heart felt like it was ready to fall to the floor. Maybe this was a bad time to do it. Or maybe the ring really freaked you out. Was it too big a gesture? The WikiHow tutorial he consulted had told him to bring a gift, after all. 

“Hello?” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts. He gave your shoulders a tiny shake, trying to pull you out of your entranced state.

“Hm? Sorry… say that again? I don’t think I heard you…”

Jake’s expression fell as he dropped his hands back to his sides in defeat.

“Okay,” he muttered, voice small. It wasn’t worth it. Everything went off script anyway. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

He brushed past you, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets again. He was fidgeting with the ring box, wishing he could throw it into the nearest bushes. God, he felt dumb. So fucking dumb.

Of course you’d say no! He was nobody. Just Jake. Just some guy you latched onto at the start of high school so you could poke fun at him for the next few years and make him pay for your boba addiction. And you, with your cool-ass friends with eyebrow slits and really underground music tastes. You’re way out of his league—

“Jake,” you called out, surprised at how loud your voice could get if you were desperate. 

He turned around immediately, wearing such a pronounced pout even from a few meters away. Somehow, seeing his face again made your throat close up. He liked you. He really liked you.

“Say it again,” you demanded, arms crossed with doubt written all over your features. “I need to hear you say it one more time.”

You walked toward him until you stood close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was this it? Would you actually give him a chance? Jake pressed his lips together and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself. 

“I like you,” he said as softly as a whisper. “Would you… Be my girlfriend?”

You looked at the ground, feigning a calmness when your mind was racing with thoughts too insane to vocalize. When you finally looked up again, your heart betrayed you. It skipped a beat at the way his gaze fell on yours, wide and hopeful. It almost hurt. He was too bright, too cute.

(Okay, so what if you liked him back. He didn’t have to know that.)

“Sure,” you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. Jake froze.

Then his entire face lit up. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear to ear, jumping in place like a dog begging for a treat. “Really? Like really? You’ll go out with me?!”

He took your hands in his, tenderly. Like he wasn't entirely sure the moment was real. You felt the dampness of his palms first, then the tug of his fingers intertwining with yours, like he had already rehearsed this part of his confession a thousand times in his head. Your cheeks warmed.

‘What a weirdo,’ you thought to yourself. It’s not like he’d just won the lottery. What was he so happy about?

“Just don’t make it weird,” you grumbled. “Keep it on the down low.”

Jake’s smile faltered, brows knitting together so tightly you were sure it’d leave a wrinkle on his cute face.

“Like… you don’t want people to know?” he asked, voice quieter now. You nodded, confused by his confusion. 

“Why would anyone need to know?” you asked genuinely. He frowned, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, silently asking you to reconsider.

“Not even Sunghoon or Jay?”

You scoffed. “Especially Sunghoon and Jay.”

“Why not?” he groaned. You just shrugged.

“I don’t want our dynamic to change just ‘cause we’re dating,” you reassured him, letting go of his hands to ruffle his hair. Like you always do when you tease him. Like that would make it all better. “And all that coupley PDA stuff draws too much attention anyway.”

You’d spent years cultivating your intimidating persona, and in your mind, it was simple. No one else needed to know that you were vulnerable to something as cringe-inducing as dating. The other students would only use it against you. For what? Who knows.

But you could just imagine the teasing glances and whispers in the hallways. If Jake were really serious about dating you, surely he’d be understanding of your aversion towards embarrassment. Right?

He didn't seem entirely convinced. At all. “So… what would be the difference then? Between us now and before?” 

You sighed and stepped past him.

“It's what we'd do in private, you know?” you muttered over your shoulder. “Kissing and all that…”

You didn’t see it, how Jake’s ears completely reddened or how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched at his side, like he was already imagining what it’d be like to hold you properly. To touch you. To kiss you. Like real couples do.

“D-do you want to see the ring I got you?” he blurted out, catching up to you. “I swear it’s lowkey. It has a ‘J’ engraved inside the band. I got a matching one with your initial, too! No one would even notice if you wore it—”

And you feel your heart thunder in your chest, scaring you into another sudden sprint. “Get the hell away from me, weirdo!” 

Your joined laughter echoed down the street as he chased after you. And even though he could catch up to you, he let you have your fun, staying just a little out of his reach.

–

Jake is very good at obeying orders, always has been. Especially after the first few times you glared at him for accidentally reaching for your hand in the cafeteria. He learned fast.

He tried his best not to show affection publicly, no matter how badly he wanted to wrap his blazer around your shivering frame when you would nap during class. He forced himself not to linger near you when you were loitering with your fellow delinquents by the school staircase, laughing at a joke he didn’t quite understand. He suppressed the urge to defend you from teachers who reprimanded you out in the hallways. Tried not to look behind at you for too long during football games he never played in anyway.

Once, someone asked him about his love life, and he instantly turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. And they laughed it off. It was Jake. No one thought twice. He was always like this. Awkward. Flustered.

The parasites he calls friends, Jay and Sunghoon, would probably go into cardiac arrest if they ever found out how he doted on you in private. How soft he was. How gentle.

You pretended not to notice. But ever the observer, Jake sees how your defenses weaken, ever so slightly, each day.

You let him put his arm around you in dark movie theaters instead of yanking it away. Let him stay for dinner with your parents when he comes over to help you study (because lord knows you need it). You stopped flinching when he called you ‘babe’ in private, sometimes responding without even questioning who he was speaking to. It was baby steps, but to Jake, it was everything.

Was it awkward? Yes. The way his glasses got in the way when he finally kissed you for the first time. Your noses bumped together. Too much tongue involved. It was a mess. Still life-changing, nevertheless. 

He replays the memory often. The two of you on your bed, him holding your plushie hostage, you trying to rip it out of his arms. The way you fell on top of him with your lips accidentally crashing on his. He pretended like the make-out session that occurred immediately after didn't absolutely ruin him.

Jake edged past the warmer parts of you when no one was around to bear witness. And you both were so good at keeping secrets. No one would have believed it anyway. You’d made sure of that.

–

“You two are very strange,” Jay commented, maybe a couple of months into your secret relationship. Every senior was gearing up for graduation, choosing which universities to attend or which path to take in life.

And of course, Jay and Sunghoon found out that Jake and you would both be attending the same university. Not just any school. A top one. Yonsei. 

Jake had earned a full-ride scholarship after finally getting off the damn bench and scoring four goals in a single match against the best high school team in the nation. Jake could've gone abroad to an Ivy League, but he chose not to. Because at Yonsei he could visit family more often, save a lot of money, and… well, keep you close, most of all.

And by the will of a higher being (Jake’s relentless tutoring), you somehow made it in as well.

“I thought you said you wanted to go straight into the workforce,” Jay questioned you. “Now you’re telling me you somehow, in some way, got into the same school as Jake? This fucking nerd?”

Sunghoon chimed in with a smile he always wore before teasing you. “I didn’t even think you could get into college, honestly.”

You wanted to hit him so bad, but you stopped yourself. Your resolution for the new school year was to turn over a new leaf. And that comes with not hitting annoying boys over the head with your fist. You could get arrested for that from now on... So instead, you used your words.

“You’re mad I got in, and you didn’t,” you snorted, sticking out your tongue as Jake snickered beside you. You sat close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder, but far enough apart to keep Jay and Sunghoon from noticing.

“You guys have no faith in her,” Jake sighed earnestly. “She’s really smart when she applies herself. She just needed a push, that's all.”

You glared at him, not sure if his comment was entirely a compliment. Yes, he played a role in your achievements. No, he could not credit himself for the hard work you put in to get that high-ass score on the college entrance exam. Even your teachers apologized for doubting you.

“Should’ve put those hours of tutoring her into me instead,” Jay groaned. “Now you’re gonna be all alone with no friends.”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? S-she’s my friend.”

He stumbled over the words, clearly thrown off by the ominous comment. You watched him, amused. God, he was so obvious.

Sunghoon just looked between you two, doubt etched all over his face. “Barely,” he scoffed. “Trust me, bro, you are getting left behind as soon as she finds another victim willing to pay for all her food.”

You can start your resolution next week. This time, you really smacked him, sharp on his bicep. Sunghoon yelped.

“Why are you always so aggressive?” he whined, rubbing the sore spot with his arm. You raised your hand threateningly again, but you stopped yourself short. 

At the corner of your eye was Jake’s soured expression, a flash of worry obviously overcoming him. But you couldn’t comfort him. Not now. You wouldn’t hear the end of it from these two.

“You never know,” Jay chirped, faking thoughtfulness with a hand on his chin. “Jake might be too cool for us once school starts.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.

“Ain’t gonna happen!” Sunghoon cackled, putting his whole gut into it. You joined in hesitantly, though your eyes kept drifting to your sullen boyfriend. And he wasn’t amused. Not at all.

Because he never found it funny, the idea of you leaving him behind.

–

“Do you think I’m weird?” Jake asked one evening, with you curled up beside him on your bed. Your knee draped over his stomach, his glasses pushed up just enough to rest comfortably against your pillow. On his late-night visits, your parents would come in to check if you two were truly studying as you claimed. After Jake gained their trust, they learned to leave the two of you alone (when they probably shouldn’t have).

Your eyes were shut tight to prepare yourself for an oncoming nap.

“Yes,” you said quickly, not even giving him time to process the response.

“Like… bad weird?” he asked after a second. He’d been thinking lately, after the conversation with his friends, how different the two of you really were.

How easy it was for you to stand up for yourself. Go against the grain. How you don’t automatically default to nods as he does or lose your train of thought mid-conversation. How you hated being touched by most people but would smack someone’s shoulder when you genuinely found something funny. 

He wanted that, wanted to see the world the way you saw it. To move around without hesitation. Even when people called you a troublemaker. Even when teachers scolded you for wearing your uniform skirt shorter than the dress code. How was confidence so natural for you?

“Bad weird,” you teased, eyes still closed. “But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

A small ache tugged at his heart. “You still like me though, right?”

You laughed. Jake loved to do this sometimes. Bait for reassurance. But you’re not that kind of fish.

“Who said I ever did?”

You said it jokingly, but a silence followed. You don’t quite catch it as you drift to sleep, the way Jake’s eyes dimmed.

“Oh,” he said disappointingly, staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes, he wondered if the reason you wanted your relationship to be private in the first place was because of him. If his inability to relate to your friends with secret tattoos and chains on their jeans made you embarrassed to be his girlfriend. 

Because you got along well with his friends just fine, could tease Jay and Sunghoon like you’d known them your whole life. But it was so hard for him to do the same with yours. To look natural when he joined that one karaoke hangout, where they looked at him expectantly because you had bragged that he could sing well.

You said it so proudly too, and he wanted to prove himself to them. That he was worthy to be in their presence. And then his voice had to crack.

“Should we get your friend some water?” someone joked, and the whole group laughed. With his cheeks red with embarrassment, Jake sat back down next to you, silent for the rest of the night. It was lame of him. Even he knew that. 

But even as he watched you defend him with all your heart, he couldn’t find himself to cheer up. Because in your world, he had always felt out of place. 

–

And so Jake did what he’s known to do best. Research.

He avoided WikiHow tutorials on how to ask out a girl and headed straight to the most honest part of the internet: Reddit.

‘makeover tips for guys’

‘how to gain more confidence’

‘how to be attractive enough that your girlfriend isn’t ashamed of you (serious responses only pls)’

He frequented the self-help section of the school library, took notes on everything from fashion advice to fixing his posture. He practiced eye contact with himself through the mirror until they watered, joined Sunghoon in the gym, and copied his weirdly intense routine.

Jake kept this process all to himself, much like your relationship. He learned to be good at that. Keeping secrets.

He would reinvent himself for university. Become someone you’d be proud to show off because he didn’t want to feel like this anymore. Like he would fall behind. And knowing you… he wasn’t sure if you’d bother to look back and see if your loyal puppy was still there trailing behind you. 

–

present. 

So that’s how your relationship’s been going so far. While Jake was on this great journey to undergo metamorphosis, there were no real complaints on your side.

So why was it like this now? 

Waiting for your very late boyfriend, who was making you miss the first minutes of the university’s freshman orientation ceremony. You almost text him a paragraph about how, usually, you're the unpunctual one in the relationship, but a stranger approaches you.

“BOO!” 

You almost let out a scream when you notice who it is. Or who you think it is. Is it who you think it is?

Because instead of wild, unruly hair hiding his eyebrows and big black frames resting on his nose bridge, your boyfriend looked like someone else entirely. His hair was styled in a middle part, framing his handsome features perfectly. Instead of his usual oversized hoodie with holes on the sleeves masking his athletic body, he’s wearing a varsity jacket and a simple white shirt that clung way too well to his muscular frame. You could even see the faint outline of contact lenses in the whites of his eyes.

Your eyelashes flutter in confusion. You literally just saw him yesterday. When did he find the time to get a haircut and invest in a new closet?

Jake steps forward with a small, hopeful smile and holds out a box of egg tarts. Did it add to his already late ETA? Yes, but he always thinks about you and what you'd like to eat. Could you blame him for getting you a sweet treat?

But that wasn’t the part you were really focused on.

“Who are you and what did you do to Jake?” you ask, fists raised like a boxer. He chuckles nervously, bringing the pastry box back to his side.

“Do I look weird?” he asks quietly, shifting his feet. The vulnerability in his voice made you lower your hands instantly.

“So…” you start, eyes looking him up and down. “This is on purpose? Like, Sunghoon didn’t put you up to this? Or Jay?”

He pouts. His mom practically screamed, “So handsome!” when he showed her his new look over video call. So, why was your reaction like this? 

“I just thought… new school year, new me! No?” he says, puffing up with pride.

You shake your head, moving your hand on instinct to ruffle his freshly styled hair. But he catches your wrist before you can touch him. You pull away, heart squeezing a bit, knowing that he dodged one of your rare bouts of affection. Or whatever you call it.

“It took me forever to get my hair to look like this,” he mutters, looking away. “Don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”

You click your tongue, trudging past him. Since when did he care about what his hair looked like? This was the same guy who showed up to graduation with a T-shirt and sneakers and got confused when the teachers asked him to go back home and change.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “No more standing around. We have to go—”

“Still not wearing the ring?” he asks, catching up to you. He noticed it earlier when he caught your arm. 

When Jake gave it to you just a year before, he set no expectation for you to wear it. He really hadn’t… But it has been a year. Wasn’t it about time? He wears his everyday…

You suck in your teeth and glare at him. “Why would I?” 

He flinches. And you start to feel guilt bubbling in your chest as his steps start slowing next to you.

“It’s just…” he mumbles. “It’s not like we’re in high school anymore. No one’s even gonna notice. And no one’s gonna care if we’re dating.”

You roll your eyes. You care. You still had a reputation to uphold. Maybe not as a troublemaker anymore. But still. Something about wearing your boyfriend’s ring for everyone to see and question seemed like your own personal hell. Who would want to be the center of attention as a university freshman?

“It’s the principle,” you say, not really knowing what you mean by it either. Because you are wearing it. Just not on your finger. It hangs around your neck, hidden underneath your blouse. But Jake didn’t have to know that.

You would rather die than give anyone the satisfaction of knowing you were smitten with this man. Soft, but only for him. Your biggest weakness.

“So are we always just gonna be a secret?” he sighs. You turn to face him, but you keep it pushing. It’s too much to explain right now. Or ever.

“Come on,” you insist. “We need to get to the orientation.”

–

Indeed, it wasn’t high school anymore. Because everywhere you turn, Jake’s name is being brought up.

“The hot guy on the football team—”

“He set the curve on the first exam and proved Professor Kim wrong on the board—”

“I saw him help a grandma cross the street. Soooo dreamy—”

It was enough to almost make you pull your hair out of your head. This was Jake they were talking about! The guy who was too shy to ask for no pickles in his damn burgers, who used to let Sunghoon copy off his homework and then rewrote his own just to make sure the teachers wouldn’t catch on. This was your Jake.

You take a moment to breathe.

You sound crazy. Deranged, even. It shouldn’t even matter. Jake was always good-looking! People just never noticed or took the time to appreciate him outside of his ability to decode the most difficult of physics equations.

“A couple of guys from the team think I’d look good with a sweatband,” he says, showing you a photo during a late-night walk. He’s shoving his phone screen to your face, and you pout at the sight. His hair pushed back, forehead glistening. A perfect view of his beautiful, dark eyes. 

“Nah,” you say dismissively, trying to push down the fluttering in your heart. He tilts his head, staring at the photo once more.

“Really?” he mutters. “I thought it looked pretty good.”

“Do you really wanna look like Jay in junior year? He’s gonna tell you that you copied him.”

He gives a small sound of acknowledgement. You could tell he’s taking your comment seriously, like you said something truly eye-opening.

“You’re right,” he nods. “Then, how do you feel about a lip piercing?”

Your brows furrow at the thought of metal against his pouty lips. The way his teeth would tug on it. The effect he would have on all of his newfound admirers…

“Absolutely not!” 

Yeah, you were losing it.

–

No, really, you might actually be going insane.

It was hard enough for you to create genuine friendships at Yonsei, full of stuck-up rich kids who only managed to get in through elite cram schools and expensive tutors. But after a few polite conversations, their masks fell to show their true intentions. You know now that you are being used as a shortcut to get on Jake’s radar. 

Because why do people you’ve never met before suddenly feel comfortable enough to ask you to introduce them to him? Why do they request to follow you on Instagram only so they can find his account more easily? And what pisses you off most—the question they always ask, without fail: “Is he single?”

And you know there's a quick answer you can give. A very simple solution to your eye-twitching problem. Because every time someone high-fives him in the corridors or bats their eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction, you have the overwhelming urge to just pounce on him. To wrap your arms around his middle and never let him leave your sight. 

But you can’t. Your pride is too big, your ego too fragile to admit that someone actually managed to slip past the cold exteriors of your heart. So instead, you're waiting impatiently for him to reply to your text.

He's not at practice. He's supposed to be on his way. So where the hell was he?

jake: sorry! study group went for a lil bit longer than I thought. everyone kept asking me for help haha. omw!

And then he sends a photo. It's a group selfie, with him in the middle. Three girls on his right and another two on his left, surrounding him like a piece of meat.

you: dont bother coming. im sick.

With envy, maybe. But you're perfectly healthy.

jake: im sorry babe :( you feeling okay? want me to get you anything from the store?

you: Nah.

You almost scream. There's so much you want to say and admit, but your fingers won’t type any of it. You really don't deserve him. He's so nice, and you're so… Fuck.

Why is it so hard to admit to your own boyfriend that you miss him?!

jake: ok :( I love you!

Your stomach flips.

Haha… You needed professional help. Really.

–

Jake was better at football than the bench in high school ever suggested. Senior hierarchy was everything at Yonsei. A starter as a freshman was practically unheard of before Jake. How he managed to level up from being a designated benchwarmer to being on the field at all times felt like whiplash.

Did he just have this in him this whole time?

I mean, you guess he looked kind of cool out there, all sweaty and serious-looking. Shouting call-outs to his team mid-game. Your legs squirm at the sight. He really needs to put on his damn glasses. (Though knowing you, that might only make things worse.)

You sit there, wearing the university colors of white and blue, holding onto a sign that says “Go Team!”

You would have made something with his name on it, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You could not bear to give the stupid boys beside you the ammo of watching you scream Jake’s name and go crazy over his goals. So instead, you silently watch and admire as he steals the ball yet again.

Jay and Sunghoon, decked out in the rival school’s signature red for no reason whatsoever (they don’t even attend that university either), stood on either side of you with a level of passion you’ve never seen from them before.

“GET HIS ASS!” Jay screams. “Play the mental game! When Player 15 cries, he calls his mom first—”

Player 15 would happen to be Jake.

“The guy with ‘Sim’ in the back of his jersey loves to sing Celine Dion in the shower—”

You groan as heads turn, not enjoying the various glares and snide remarks from your surrounding schoolmates. You still haven't made any substantial friends yet at university. Being associated with these bozos would only make it that much harder. This would be the last time you sneak them into the student section. 

“Can you two please sit down?” you mutter. “We’re ahead by like four goals. Psychological warfare is not enough for Jake to lose.”

Sunghoon drops back into his seat with a huff, cracking his neck.

“This won’t do,” he mutters. “Jake’s gonna surpass me in Instagram followers if he wins this.”

Jay chuckles on your left side, still standing and selfishly blocking the view of everyone behind him. “If he wins, you think he’ll invite us to their celebration party after?”

Your brows furrow. “What party?”

Jay finally sits down when the opposing team calls a time-out, one eyebrow raised at your confused expression. “Isn’t that like a thing every school does? First big game of the year, there’s bound to be something.”

Sunghoon nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s like common knowledge.”

You almost pout before catching yourself. Jake never mentioned anything about a party. 

So when the game ended and, of course, Yonsei won, the two boys could not help but ask. 

“So there’s a party, right?”

“And you’re taking us?”

Jake looks between the two of them, forehead glistening and hair damp with sweat.

“What party?” he asks, and you smile gingerly. That’s right! You weren’t crazy. He would’ve told you if there was—

“You have to go to the party, Jakey!” a voice chirps from behind you.

You recognize her. The team manager of the football team. Short hair and a cute button nose. Very pretty. Your eyes cut between Jake and her. Wait.

Jakey? Who the hell calls him that?

Jay and Sunghoon give each other some shifty glances and step aside, letting the girl join the conversation. You feel this weird inclination to move closer to Jake, but you suppress the urge. 

“Hm?” Jake finally replies, confused more than ever. “No one told me about a party.”

The girl giggles. What even was her name?

“Oh, Jakey! Since you’re a freshman, I’ll give you the rundown.” 

She scooches in between you two, pushing you slightly to the side. The boys don’t seem to notice, and you have half your sense not to shove the girl right back.

“Whenever we win,” she starts, “the whole school goes to En Bar nearby and takes it over! Free drinks and everything. You’re our star player, so you definitely can’t miss it. Your friends are invited too, of course.”

She looks between Jay and Sunghoon, not even sparing you a glance.

Jake scratches the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I’m actually feeling pretty tired—” 

“We’ll be there!” Jay and Sunghoon say instantly. You raise your eyebrow at them, and the two brush it off.

“We’ll make sure he comes,” Jay laughs, slapping Jake hard on the shoulder. Having gotten hit by the ball in that exact spot just an hour before, he winces.

“I’m not really—”

“Great!” the girl smiles, clapping her hands together. “I’ll see you all there then?” 

Of course, her back is fully turned towards you. Dumb and dumber nod in unison, and as the girl walks off, they push at each other excitedly.

“First college party,” they cry out in joy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You two are pathetic.”

Jake nods slowly in agreement. “Well… you guys have fun. I think I’m just gonna head back to my dorm and shower…”

“And get ready, right?” Sunghoon says dangerously, wagging a finger at him. “Because you are coming, right?”

Jake shivers under his friends’ threatening glares. But what really scares him is when his eyes find yours. You look pissed. Fuck. What did he do this time?

“I mean… I guess I could pop in…” Jake says reluctantly. He sneaks in another glance in your direction and sees that your frown grows even deeper. Was that the wrong thing to say?

“Babe?” Jake calls after you as you stride across campus, shivering in your t-shirt and mini skirt. “Why are you walking so fast?”

It’s dark now, save for the dim street lamps. You stop abruptly, and he almost bumps into you. When you turn, your jaw is already clenched.

“Am I crazy, or did that girl just completely ignore me?” you ask genuinely, voice at the seams of losing composure. Because what the fuck was her problem?

Jake laughs nervously. “Choa? I thought she seemed pretty friendly?”

Your expression sours. “Yeah, maybe a little too friendly,” you say under your breath. Jake catches it.

“Wait,” he says with a shit-eating grin, leaning in. “Babe… are you jealous? Hm?”

Your cheeks heat up, arms crossing like a toddler. “Fuck off.”

He laughs now, twisting you around and guiding you forward with an arm around your shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, babeeee…”

He notices how you don’t pull away from his touch, when normally you would hiss something like, “people are watching,” or something like that. Jake bites back an even bigger smile. You just let him hold you.

The walk to his dorm was peachy for him, save for the fact that his sweaty arm stank up your shirt.

You! Jealous. This has to be a dream. When you reach his room, shared with a sophomore named Heeseung who never seems to be around, you sit on Jake’s bed, still reeling from the earlier interaction.

“Am I overreacting?” you ask him, not at all bothered that he was taking his jersey off. You’re well past the stage of pretending his bare torso flusters you. “Like… did it not seem like she wanted you?”

Jake laughs, wiping his underarms with a nearby towel. “Me? Babe, no. That’s out of the question. She's like four years older than us—”

You roll your eyes. “So where the fuck did ‘Jakey’ come from?”

He shrugs, catching his reflection in the wall mirror hanging on his door. His muscles flex in a way that makes your eyes travel down his well-toned back…

You snap your gaze back to the wall. No. Focus. You’re supposed to be mad.

“New year, new nickname?” he offers, teasingly.

You throw a pillow at his head. Like the athlete he is, Jake dodges it. He turns to you, laughing, amused by how sulky and adorable you look on his bed. Brows furrowed in contemplation, tugging your legs close to your chest. Your plush thighs in your pretty little skirt that would have gotten you dress-coded back in high school with your knee-high socks and…

Fuck. 

“It’s not like I care,” you mumble, unconvincingly. 

Jake huffs out something that sounds like a chuckle, but his thoughts are elsewhere. His mind (and eyes) are on the edge of your skirt. He places a hand on your thigh and rubs it softly. To you, it felt like reassurance, and it was. But he was also incredibly horny.

“Babe,” his words drawl. “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his for a split second before he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. “Hey—”

He chuckles as he plants another on your nose. Then your chin. And then your other cheek. And now you’re trying to push him away, but he holds your wrists to prevent you from stopping his incessant attacks. 

“Jake—You stink—Freak!” You try to say as his lips find yours, while he’s giggling up a storm. So cute. You're so fucking cute. 

His next kiss is deep, drawing out your breath sharply. Your back is on the bed now with Jake on top, his hands still wrapped around your wrists.

Jake’s lips move against yours, your eyes fluttering shut. His tongue prods and pushes in, his taste so sweet and heavy as you breathe in his weirdly intoxicating scent. Like fresh laundry doused in the salt of his sweat. You clench his biceps as he comes up from the kiss to catch some air.

He looks at you, face flushed and mouth parted. 

“I’m hard,” he blurts out, and you smack him on his naked chest.

“What do you want me to do about that?” you mutter as you start to feel him press against your stomach. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. He lets out a groan, grinding onto you just to feel any part of you against his football shorts. You let out a squeak, clenching at his toned muscles harder.

“You’re not coming with?” he asks, and you can hear the shakiness in his breath. You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and shifting up so that his tent could meet your core. Jake fit between you so snugly.

His head lifts to meet yours, pupils already so dilated.

“Why would I?” you say through hooded eyes, and you could visibly see him gulp. It almost makes you laugh. But instead, you tease him, moving your hips up to graze his bulge. 

“I have time,” he groans quickly. “For this. Or whatever you want to do. Like I’m really down for any—”

You roll your eyes, gripping the back of his head to smash him back down to your lips. Your movements are messy, tongues clashing at a feverish pace. He’s still sore from earlier, but like hell he would let this opportunity go. Not when you looked this fucking good. And angry too. (For him, these things aren’t mutually exclusive...)

With trembling fingers, he lifts your shirt and almost moans at the sight of your bare skin. While he wants to thank you for saving him the trouble of not fiddling with a bra clasp, you pat yourself on the back for leaving your necklace at home.

Knowing how frisky Jake gets after the adrenaline of a good win runs through him, it was the right call. You don’t think you could handle Jake seeing you so jealous while having his ring resting on your chest. Yeah, you’d probably die right in front of him.

His hands grab your tits softly, massaging them between his fingers. Jake dips down, swallowing a nipple in his mouth as he watches you sigh out in pleasure.

He’s confident in one thing when it comes to you, and it was this right here. He could make your tough exterior melt just as long as you were under him. Or over him. He has no preference.

His tongue circles your bud, tugging with his teeth lightly. 

“Jake—” When he hears you squeak, his dick twitches with anticipation. So pliant now. What happened to that dominance earlier? He’d like to see it come back…

He moves on to the other breast, licking and massaging so it doesn't feel too neglected. Jake loves your tits, could be buried between them for the rest of his life if you let him. But now isn't the time! He has a very mean and very jealous, but also very hot, girlfriend to please. And maybe some party to make it to, who knows.

Jake pulls his shorts down roughly, just enough so that he can take his dick out. Already so big, the bulbous tip weeps with desire for you. He’s palming himself, relishing in how your eyes shut tight, lips parted open as his wet, pink muscle traces circles over your sensitive skin.

He’s nipping the top of your breasts now, careful not to leave marks in visible areas. Jake knows how you get about that sort of thing. 

His fingers drag your white, damp panties off your legs, but keeps your skirt on. And the knee-high socks for good measure. His hand meets your core, pushing down on your clit with a heavy pressure he knows you like.

You gasp, covering your eyes with your forearm. You’re so embarrassed. The noises you're making are unbecoming of you. All he does is laugh. Still so sensitive during sex after a whole year of dating. And he’s supposed to be the shy one.

His fingers drag slowly on your folds as he spreads your juices all over his digits. Jake might just cum in his pants with how soft your tits feel as he nestles his head in between them. 

He pushes two fingers in right away, and you draw out a sharp breath. You almost hit him on the shoulder. He has no idea how big his hands are. How sometimes you would eye them whenever he helps you with homework. Veiny, like his cock.

He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, wet squelches echoing through the room. 

“Ngh—Mmm—” you groan, arching your back to meet his movements. Impatient. You’re always so impatient.

“JAKE!” you cry out, when he rubs over a certain spot.

He looks up at you from his comfortable position between the valley of your chest, and with a teasing glint in his eyes, he says, “You mean Jakey?”

And it’s not an exaggeration in the least to say that you start seeing red. You grab his wrist, the pads of your fingers digging into his flesh. He stops his movements, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes like he did something wrong. And he did. Something very. Very. Wrong.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tease—”

You pull his fingers out of you. With one swift movement, you grab him by his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. You’re hovering over him now, eyes dark.

Jake swallows nervously. Why’d you have to look so hot when provoked?

“Did I ruin the vibe or…”

“Shut up,” you growl, crashing your lips onto his. He tries to hold your waist to offer support, but you hold his wrists down onto the sheets. He could probably push you off very easily. But he doesn’t. Because he loves seeing you like this. Loves the urgency in your touch.

You want him! And you’re showing it! His heart is practically doing backflips in his chest.

Your tongue explores the inside of Jake’s mouth, licking the roof of it in a way that has him seeing stars. You’re so rough with it. Sucking on his, biting his lip, moving so desperately against him.

“Babe—” he tries to say in between your assaults on his mouth. But it comes out in a breathless whisper when he feels you grinding your slick pussy against him.

“I said,” you say through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”

He almost moans when his leaking tip hits your clit. Just the contact alone has the back of his head hitting the pillow roughly. But he forces himself to watch as you move against him as he offers no assistance. Your grip on his wrists moves to the sheets as you focus on grinding against his dick. Swiveling yourself on him back and forth. Rubbing and rubbing. But it’s not enough. He needs to be inside. Needs to feel you right now.

Your breath is on his neck now, riling yourself up at his stunt. Jakey? What grown woman calls someone that? Choa and her nice ass bob... Fuck her!

“Ngh—” he lets out as you suction an erogenous zone on his neck, sucking and biting him like a vampire. Your tongue lapping at his skin to soothe him from the brutal assaults of your teeth. You close your eyes to relish in his taste. So salty from sweat, but still so sweet. But you’re distracted now as Jake breaks free from your hold. He grips your ass with one hand, the other guiding his pulsing member to your slippery entrance.

“Wha—” 

He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Can I, baby?” Jake begs, cheeks tinged pink. “Please?”

You bite back a smile. What a fucking loser.

You push down on him, just slightly, just enough for his bulbous tip to slip inside. His grip on your ass is now slack. He doesn't even want to fight back, really.

“Fuck—” Jake’s mouth parts open, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes when you come back up. No longer inside you, he groans.

“Whyyy,” he whines. “I said I’m sorry—”

He inhales a sharp breath when you engulf his tip again, tightening around him just a little harder. 

“Do you like being called Jakey?” you question darkly. “Like it when other girls feel up on you?”

He shakes his head desperately. “No—Only you—” he says through pained groans.

And then you lift again, laughing at his pathetic form. “I don’t believe you.”

He’s practically writhing underneath you now, his mushroom tip pulsing against your folds. Your skirt hides it all from view, and he just wishes he could rip it off you. Give you a new one, much, much shorter, so he can see everything better. 

But only if you let him.

“You’re literally torturing me,” he whimpers, hips jutting up messily. He keeps missing your entrance, the one he desperately needs to be buried in. “Need to feel you right now—”

“What’s it to me?” you ask meanly, your thumb prodding at his bottom lip. His tongue comes out to lick at the pad of your thumb, sucking it ever-so-slightly. You enjoy this view. Him underneath you. Pleading. Whining. Like he's starving. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Jake offers through the haziness of his lust. Not entirely conscious of how desperate he sounds. “You can use me however you want. I’ll literally do anything. Just please—”

And then you sink, so slowly that his eyes roll to the back of his head. The devil. His girlfriend is the devil.

“Babe—” You shut him up with another open-mouthed kiss. Messy, just how he likes it.

He grips his hands into yours as you suckle his tongue, intertwining your fingers together. You try not to wince as you sheath him fully, realizing now that you were overconfident in taking control before he could properly prep you.

Usually, sex was an hours-long ordeal with Jake. He likes to finger you, then eat you out, then repeat, until he can slip into your slick warmth with little issue. Sex is the only time you don’t deny him the pleasure of seeing you flustered over him. Over what he could do for you. What he could provide you if you let him tell everyone in the world that he’s yours. 

Regardless, Jake will always be long and thick, and he still stretches you out so deliciously. Your mouths clash against each other, swallowing back both of your moans as saliva pools at the sides of his bruised lips.

Depraved. That’s all you could think of when Jake bottoms out inside you. He’s so sweaty now, the scent so musky that it drives you insane. Do other girls smell these pheromones when he’s around? Or is this just you and your hypersensitivity to everything that involves him?

You’re moving up and down now, with shallow thrusts that do little to satiate the flame in your stomach. You don’t do this enough—take control enough. Your knees are already weak, wobbling, as you grind down on him.

But you push through it as you continue to impale yourself on his cock, gummy walls clenching him tightly with each thrust. You want to get him off like this, even if your whole body is trembling above him. 

And it’s not like Jake doesn’t notice. But like the little shit he is, he doesn’t feel like helping. Because he enjoys the feeling too much, of your breasts bouncing filthily against his chest. When you lift yourself from his lips so that you can focus on riding him, he finds it so endearing. How you put your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself, how you fuck yourself on his length. How much you struggle to take all of him in. Not sure what to do with yourself.

‘My poor baby,’ Jake thinks, chuckling at how tight your eyes shut just to feel him better. 

“Need help?” he hums, his hand drawing circles on your hip. You shake your head, teeth gritted.

“N-no,” you try to muster out, but it’s unconvincing. Your movements are stuttering, moans slipping out of your mouth too easily. He smirks. His little pillow princess. 

Jake, with his grip on your hips, pulls you down onto his cock. Hard. You gasp as his hips snap up with it.

“Ah—” you cry out, your nails now digging into his shoulder blades. He pounds into a spot that had you almost come undone at that very moment. How did he get so good at this?

Jake lifts you, all the way until his pink tip is the only thing in your wet pussy. Then, as harshly as he could, he pushes you down on him, his thickness grazing at your deepest parts. And he does this again and again until you collapse onto his chest from the roughness of his thrusts.

“I’m gonna—Ngh—Fuck—You—” you try to say through your moans, try to sound angry. But you love it. Love how tight he grabs your bum. Love the slight stretch of pain as he stuffs you full of him. Love that trickle of spit that falls out of his mouth as his back lifts off the bed to feel you better. Ugh, you hate him.

“JAKE—”

“Shhh, baby, ” he whispers, forcing your face into the crook of his neck. “Just take it.”

Jake plunges up into you, propelling your hips down with his harsh grip. He lifts a heavy hand, smacking your ass from behind as you try to match his timing. You scream. He does it again, massaging the tender spot. The pain mixes with the pleasure, as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You feel your climax building now as your lips find his neck again, sucking and biting. Marking him. Let everyone know that he’s yours. That you own him.

“Babe…” he whines, too lost in the suctioning of your tightness to really care. Because he’s close too. So fucking close. 

Jake’s arms move up to your back, caging you into a bear-like embrace. His feet plant themselves on the bed, as his dick shoves into you with newfound energy. He’s going so fast, you could practically hear the speed. Feel it too. The wet squelches of his balls slapping against your ass. You move with him, trying to sync your rhythm to his.

“Mmm—Ahh—” your moans jumble into each other. Your legs are trembling, even more than they were before. A searing feeling within you continues to build and build. A single, full thrust from him has you biting into his neck brutally, stifling your moans as your orgasm crashes through you in waves. 

“Shit—” he cries out, from both the pain of your teeth and the pleasure of your cunt's constricting grip. You grind down on him, whimpering into his skin, back arched to ease yourself through the sensitivity.

Jake’s dick twitches in you once, then twice. He pushes you off of him and onto the bed, harsher than he intended. But he doesn’t have a condom on, and... he likes the way you look in white.

He hovers over you now, his painfully hard length in his hand. He’s stroking himself with urgency, fist wrapped around himself with a panicked grip. He’s watching you intently as you splay out underneath him. So fucking pretty for him. Lips bruised and bitten so sensually. Legs opened with your juices glistening on the inside of your thighs. Maybe he should stuff his cock into your—

“Fuck—” he groans, mouth parting at the sight of his thick ropes of cum spurting out of him, coating your stomach and tits. He strokes slowly, pumping all that he’s worth onto your body. You welcome it, eyes drinking in his flushed demeanor.

“I love you,” Jake mutters as he comes down from his high. And you don’t say anything back, distracted as your fingers coat themselves on the sticky fluids on your skin. Such a mess, both of you.

You hear it then. Intense vibrations on his nightstand. Jake’s phone, very much neglected, is blowing up with texts and calls. Was it going off like that the whole time? Then his eyes go wide like saucers.

“Shit! The party—” 

Your eyes narrow. Before he can pick it up, you grab the nape of his neck to pull him down into another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrap around Jake once more, smirking as you feel him melt into you with little resistance.

“What party?”

morning after.

“You’re a bitchhhh,” Sunghoon cries out, over a FaceTime call that Jake was forced to pick up at nine in the morning. You were already gone by then, running late to your morning lecture. 

Heeseung, thankfully, still hadn’t returned to the dorm. Or else you wouldn’t have been able to stay over and let Jake devour you a few more times, but that’s besides the point. He starts humming happily to himself with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind.

“They wouldn’t even let me into the bar because I was wearing the wrong colors,” his friend continues to complain.

“I get it, I get it,” Jake replies, only half-listening. He’s fixing his outfit in the mirror, admiring how well a polo shirt fits him. It’s weird. He’s getting used to not looking like a dweeb all the time, just a few weeks into his big transformation, even with his glasses on right now.

“Yo, do you think these pants look better with a belt or nah?” he asks, not really sparing Sunghoon a glance. He adjusts his shirt’s collar slightly until—

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

Jake jumps, phone nearly dropping from the desk he sat it on.

“WHAT IS THAT?!”

“What? What?!” Jake snaps his head to look behind himself, like Sunghoon might have seen a ghost.

“Did you get eaten by a fucking lion?!” Sunghoon gawks. Jake’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

Damn, he forgot.

“W-what are you talking about?” he mutters unconvincingly, slowly coming out of frame. He strips the polo off in a panic, digging through his closet until he finds a turtleneck. It’s autumn anyway. This is fine, right?

“Our friendship is done,” Sunghoon deadpans at the camera. “You got fucking laid and didn’t tell me?! I mean, I understand Jay, he’d make it weird. BUT NOT EVEN ME?!”

Jake shakes his head, tugging the turtleneck on. He tries to roll up his sleeves to look more casual, but now he looks like Steve Jobs. Shit. He should put his contacts on.

“So who is it?!” Sunghoon presses. “Who’s the unlucky girl?” 

 When Jake doesn’t reply, Sunghoon gasps.

“Unlucky guy?!”

“Man, shut up!” Jake cries, snatching his phone off the desk and coming back into frame. “Please don’t tell Jay.”

–

“Okay, so he told Jay,” he blurts, shielding himself with his arm like you’re about to hit him. “Please don’t get mad at me.”

You almost asked why he was wearing a turtleneck in relatively warm weather when he tugged the collar down to show his neck. Absolutely purple and bruised. And yes. Maybe a dark, suppressed part of you jumped with glee. But the more rational part started cursing yourself out.

“I can’t believe you’d video call him the morning after,” you groan, massaging your temple with your fingers. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. What was I even thinking?!”

Jake gives you a sly smile. “I mean, I’m not complaining—”

You shoot him another icy stare, and he stops. 

“W-well, it’s not like they know that it’s you! They probably think it’s someone else…”

You inhale a sharp breath at the thought. Was he gonna tell them the hickeys on his neck were from someone else? Who? Choa?

“Whatever,” you mutter, whipping around as your bag purposely smacked his bicep. You walk off, fists clenched, ignoring Jake’s calls out to you. 

Fucking Choa.

–

A full week has passed since the disaster that was Sunghoon seeing Jake’s bruised neck. Your boyfriend only felt safe enough to see the two idiots once the marks faded, and even then, he was a little disappointed to wake up and see them all gone. 

“So run it through with me again,” Jay requests, leaning over the boiling hot pot broth. The boys sit in a dimly lit restaurant with a stage in the back. 

“Like, you were just walking back to your dorm and boom—you found a rando to hook up with out of nowhere?!” Jay questions, dropping tofu into the soup so aggressively that it splashes Jake’s wrist.

“Why are you making up fantasies in your head about my sex life?” Jake mutters, pushing his glasses up his face. He was too lazy to put his contacts on just to hang out with these two. “I plead the fifth.”

“Bro, I thought you were a virgin this whole time!” Sunghoon adds unhelpfully. “Excuse us for trying to be supportive.”

Jake rolls his eyes, struggling to grab an udon noodle with his chopsticks.

“Wait,” Jay says through the hot pot steam. “Weren’t you walking with [Y/N] that night?”

Jake gulps, throat bobbing as he fiddles with the noodle more to avoid suspicion.

“Right!” Sunghoon snaps his fingers, and for a second, Jake’s life flashes before his eyes. They know. They have to! Fuck, you’re gonna be so mad at him—

“Why don’t we just ask her who it was?”

Jake stares at them and breaks out into a nervous laugh. Never in his life was he happier to have a more idiotic set of childhood friends.

“Please do,” Jake smiles, wondering how you would weasel out of that conversation with them. “She knows her very well…”

A piercing sound of microphone feedback ricochets through the restaurant. The three cover their ears as everyone’s attention turns to the neglected stage.

“Who wants to sing?! It's open mic night!” the restaurant owner booms. When a deafening silence fills the air, Jay lifts Jake’s hand straight into the air without hesitation.

“This guy loves Celine Dion!” he cries out as Jake tries to yank his arm back down. He curses at his friend, but to no avail.

“Okay!” the owner shouts excitedly. “Come on right up, sir!” 

Jay and Sunghoon practically drag Jake up the stage, laughing themselves all the way back to their seats in the far back of the restaurant. Jake stands frozen as dozens of strangers stare at him, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket, and brushes his hair back. He couldn't bear to look at all these blank faces staring at him. Confidence. This is all about confidence.

When ‘My Heart Will Go On' starts echoing through the restaurant walls, Jake’s face flushes all the way red. This is exposure therapy; he tries to cope with himself. If he could do this, he could probably build up the courage to ask you about going public. So that his friends stop thinking he’s a loser. Maybe for you to stop thinking it, too.

He sucks in a deep breath. What’s the difference between this and a showerhead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

“Every night in my dreams, I see youuuu… I feel youuu…” he starts slowly, welcomed with a soft gasp from an audience member. Jay and Sunghoon’s laughter dies as Jake sings. Shit. He was actually doing it. And he sounded good, too. Like an angel. Was Jay crying?

Jake loses himself in the slow melody of the song, singing his heart out as he does in every postgame shower. ‘This one’s for you, babe,’ he thinks. Wherever you are… 

When the song ends and Jake’s eyes open, he’s met with a standing ovation. At a damn hot pot restaurant. Jay and Sunghoon are cheering the loudest, holding their hearts like their once-nerdy best friend was their child at a talent show. The owner comes up to the stage, sniffling.

“Give it up for this random kid!”

As Jake makes his way back to the table, he holds his head up high. He couldn’t have imagined doing this a year before, let alone ordering food at a kiosk without stuttering. It’s like taking off his glasses gave him super powers.

“Excuse me—” Jake turns around. A girl with long flowing hair stops him. 

“Are you Jake Sim? The freshman on the football team?” she asks, eyes bright. He nods. Does he know her?

“I’m Suji from the Dance department.” She bows slightly. “Your performance was incredible, by the way!” 

He nods, giving a small “thanks,” before he turns back around.

“Actually!” She calls after him. He stops again. “I just wanted to ask if you were interested in auditioning to be the male lead of our upcoming musical! It’s about a football player who finds passion in singing and dancing. I just thought it would fit you so well!”

Jake turns back to face the stranger. He ponders deeply. A musical? Him? He’d never thought about it before, but what the hell! He guesses he’s the type to try new things now. The power of a good haircut, maybe.

“I’ll think about it,” he says with a polite smile. 

Suji grins back. “Auditions start tomorrow. We’d love to have you.”

By the time Jake finds his way back to his seat, his friends are already geeking.

“You pulled another?!” Jay cries in anguish, biting his fist. “I should have gone up there. That should have been me! Damn it!”

“It’s not fair,” Sunghoon wails, leaning his head dramatically against the wall. “You had no play in high school. Like absolutely zero bitches—”

Jake snorts, scrounging for his glasses once more to slip them back on. “She was just asking me to audition for some musical.”

“I’m sure she was,” Jay says with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s staring straight at your back right now because she wants you in that musical soooo bad.”

Jake shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and sure enough, Suji is watching him. She shoots up her arm to wave. He looks back at his friends with a confused glance.

“Maybe they’re desperate?”

Sunghoon groans. “I’m gonna call [Y/N]. Let’s get her expertise on this.”

“Don’t!” Jake lunges, trying to grab Sunghoon’s phone as he takes it out of his pocket. But then flashes from that night start playing in his head. You above him. Riding him. Gripping his shoulders. Your lips on his neck, marking him until he whined and begged. All at the mere mention of Choa’s weird pet name for him. Jake clears his throat and sits back, not even trying to hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“...Yeah,” he says more casually. “Ask her.”

–

ma baby: Come over. Now.

Jake receives your text after Sunghoon’s impromptu call, bringing his hands together in a prayer position to the sky. Thank you to whatever higher being was watching over him.

When he reaches your residence hall, you’re waiting outside your door in pajamas, foot tapping impatiently against the carpet. You start glaring at his silhouette even before he comes into view. 

“So,” you start slowly, “you just let anyone talk to you these days?”

Jake’s already giddy. Yes… Be angry with him… Let him in your dorm room and reprimand him, while you’re at it…

“Babeeee,” he teases, his arms already reaching for yours. You dodge him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you reply flatly. “I’m just wondering when you started serenading restaurants and accepting invitations from random girls?”

“Just thought I could finally get some appreciation for my many talents,” he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you saying I don’t appreciate you?” you ask, not at all amused by his playful gaze. “I tell you all the time that you’re smart!”

He chuckles. “Everyone and your mom knows that by now, babe.”

You narrow your eyes. ‘He’s learning how to fight back,’ you think sourly. 

“So you enjoyed that girl's appreciation, then?” you counter, knowing that you were riling yourself up by asking such a loaded question. Jake bites his lip to stifle a smile. There it is. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, pushing his glasses up. “I think I might actually consider auditioning!”

And this part is genuine. He’s always enjoyed singing. It could be a cool new experience, especially since he shied away from doing theater back in high school. Maybe now was his moment to shine... But when he notices how your expression darkens, he’s suddenly excited to audition for the musical for a whole different reason.

You look around the hallway, checking to see if anyone's coming by. Then you pull him by the collar and into your dorm room. The door shuts behind you two as you push him to sit on the bed. Jake looks up, eyes bright with pure anticipation as you climb onto his lap.

“What’s up, babe?” he asks, feigning ignorance. And you fall for it. Because your cute, nerdy boyfriend couldn’t possibly have ulterior motives… Right?

“You have class tomorrow?” you ask as you adjust yourself on him, legs encasing both sides of his thighs. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer.

“It depends,” he says, knowing full well he has an 8 a.m. physics lab. “Is your roommate coming back anytime soon?”

Oh yeah. Her. 

“Not tonight,” you mutter, already peppering his neck with small kisses. “She’s visiting her parents.”

Jake smirks, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as the wheels are already turning in his head. He fakes a cough.

“You know… I think the musical is actually a romantic comedy.”

You’re on your knees, carpet harshly grazing your skin. 

“Fuck,” Jake groans, head thrown back as his hand clutches your hair. He’s pushing you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your cheeks hollow around him. How you take his whole length into your mouth without your usual snappy commentary. Look at you. Underneath him. So eager to please, but so in need of control. He bites his bottom lip at the view. It's addictive.

“Just like that,” Jake encourages, stroking your cheek so lovingly. Your tongue licks the underside of his thickness, careful not to have your teeth graze his sensitive skin. He’s so flushed above you, a darkness blooming in your heart. The sight of his glasses pushed so low on his nose bridge. So focused, so desperate for release.

‘My Jake,’ you think to yourself. ‘All mine.’

You bob your head up and down, your mouth plunging down to the base of his member with the help of his tight grasp on your hair.

“Y-yes,” he sighs, his hips coming up to meet your lips. Jake’s gaze never leaves yours, unable to tear his eyes from the tears forming in your eyes from just how much he fills you up. You always had something to say. Always rolling your eyes at him. Now, your eyes were rolling back for a different reason.

His mouth falls open. “F-fuck—” 

You smirk as his hips start to lose rhythm. You remember the first time you gave him head. Just like this, knees on the floor of his room back home, with his parents watching TV downstairs. Glasses perched and foggy. He came within seconds. You were proud, just a little, that he was able to last this long now.

“B-babe?” he tries to cry out. “I’m close—”

You pull away from him with a pop of your lips, teasing the slit of his tip with the flat of your tongue. He groans in frustration, but his hands don’t push you down to take him in again.

“Already?” you say, eyes batting up at him. “Why should I give you the satisfaction?” 

He whines, his grip on your hair tightening just a little. 

“Please?” he asks, not really sure what you want from him. It’s not like he asked you to just fuck him with your mouth! That was all your doing. Okay, yes, maybe he did provoke you. But did that mean he didn’t deserve to orgasm?!

You’re pumping him slowly with your right hand, gripping tightly and stroking enough so that he’s still edging close to his climax. But not close enough to actually reach it.

“I thought I was supposed to be showing you appreciation,” you say pointedly. “Take my time with you and all that.”

He shakes his head ferociously, his hips snapping up into your fist. 

“Babe—Please—I’m so—” he groans when he feels you slow your pace again. 

“So what?” you ask, feigning naivety. You really are the devil.

He shakes his head. He can’t speak. Can’t even think. Just frustrated with how your lips aren’t wrapped around his fucking dick anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’ll do anything, baby. Please—Just stop teasing—Please—”

His sobs are music to your ears. Your wrist’s pace on him quickens, as your mouth engulfs his swollen tip. Your tongue circles the head, pumping him up and down with all your strength and might. Jake’s hands are clutching the sheets, hips pistoning up into your sticky fingers. He feels his load threatening to spill over. 

“Fuck—Yes, baby—There—” He pulls your head back, hand encasing yours, pumping ferociously with you. Your mouth is wide open, tongue sticking out, eyes looking directly up at his. An invitation.

Spurts of his hot, white release coat your pink tongue. He unloads everything within him all over your features. Your cheeks. Your chin. Your cute ass nose. All covered in his milky cum. His mouth parts at the sight. So pretty. His girlfriend is so fucking pretty.

“I love you,” he whispers, as he wipes dribbles of his liquid off your chin with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much…”

You hum back in approval as he lifts you back up and onto his lap. Your face, still stained with his orgasm, comes up to kiss him. He grimaces slightly. You taste infinitely better than he does. He’s almost thankful you part ways with his lips so that you could pepper kisses down his neck.

And when you start sucking and nipping in the same way you did that game night, he smiles. His arms wrap around your waist as you suction his pulse point.

‘I could get used to this,’ Jake thinks.

The audition the next day went surprisingly easily. He truly was the only one trying out for the main role, while Suji was already pre-selected to play the female lead. Jake thinks it’s a bit unfair. What if other people wanted to audition too? But whatever. At least he got the part.

He finds you in between your lectures, holding out a boba for you in his hand. Jake’s not wearing a turtleneck this time, proudly wearing the battle scars of your teeth on his neck. No one’s brave enough to bring it up to him yet, to his dismay. Except you, who promptly smacks him in the arm for his shamelessness. 

“You look like a pervert,” you grumble, still taking the drink from him.

He chuckles at your cute expression. You say that like it wasn’t your intention to have him show the bites off. To show that he is very much occupied with someone else. Not Choa. Or whoever this other girl was.

“I was wearing my jacket the whole day,” he reassures. “Just took it off when I came to see you.”

He flexes slightly. “You think I’ve bulked recently?”

You roll your eyes and ignore his obvious fish for compliments. “So how’d it go? The audition?”

He smiles. “You’re looking at the male lead of Singing Striker,” he says proudly, hand to chest. “And before you ask, the name was not my choice.”

You scoff at the cheesiness. “Congrats,” you say through small sips of your gifted drink. “Break a leg.”

“Babe… when you say it like that, I feel like you mean it the other way.”

You shake your head, speaking robotically. “So who’s the female lead? It’s a romcom, you said?”

“The girl,” he starts, snapping his fingers like he doesn’t already know who she is. “Suji. From the restaurant. The one who recruited me.”

Your eyes morph into a squint, like you’re glaring at him. 

“...Interesting,” you say, willing yourself not to overreact. So Jake is hot now (always was). Girls just love to approach him with invitations to stuff. And he gets to act in a musical with someone that Jay described as “the baddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Great! You love that, actually.

You bite down hard on the boba straw. “You know what… Are they casting for extras?"

And it's like a bad habit now. How you nip and scar his neck like you’re feeding off him every time a girl even so much looks in his direction. It’s easier than saying you’re jealous, easier than admitting that you have a sick sort of need to control who Jake interacts with.

You almost bent a metal spoon in the cafeteria when a girl asked for his number while you were sitting right in front of him. Granted, you did denounce being in a relationship with him pretty heavily the first few weeks at school. You knew she had every right to shoot her shot, but that didn't stop you from taking Jake right into a janitorial closet and making you eat him out as an apology.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into the space between your thighs as your hands push him deeper into your wetness. “I've never even seen that girl in my life—”

You grit your teeth, angry that he even mentioned her.  “Did I ask?” you growl through sharp breaths. “Just shut up.”

He smiles against your clit, sucking harshly to elicit more of your beautiful noises. He hums into you. Happy that you're mad at him. Happy that he gets to do dirty things with you without having to practically be on his knees and begging. Well, really, he already was.

His tongue laps at your folds, thrusting in and out to prolong his stay in between your thighs. Maybe he is teasing, but really, he’s just taking it all in. Your addictive noises. Your sweet taste. The feeling of his fingers digging into your ass just to hold you up. The way you clench around his tongue when he arches it inside, real deep. Yeah, he needs you bad.

Jake is lapping at you, your legs constricting around him even tighter when he finds his way back to your clit. When he tugs on it with his teeth, you jolt.

“Jake—” He does not care. He nips again, flattening his tongue to soothe the slight pinch. You arch your back into him, riding his face until you stop yourself. You look desperate. Pathetic even. But Jake groans.

“Keep going,” he huffs. “Use me, babe. Use me like I’m your fucking toy.”

You tsk, wondering where he learned to talk like that. 

“Fucking pervert,” you mutter through harsh breaths. But your grip on him does tighten, and he whimpers at the feeling of you tugging on his locks.

“You like it when I'm like this, don't you?” You grit your teeth, pushing him in further. His nose is practically buried into your clit as he fucks his pink muscle into you at a merciless pace.

“Like when you get attention. Like when everyone fucking wants you.”

You're seething, practically riling yourself up. He tries to speak, but you clench around his tongue, trapping his voice. He hums into your folds instead, licking the roof of your warm hole as he finds the exact spot he's been searching for. You mewl.

“Fuck! T-there!”

You're grinding onto his face now, smothering him with your scent. Yes, he thinks to himself, please suffocate him. Tremors go through your body as you feel something intense build in the lower pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close.

Jake’s grip on your ass loosens as he lets you do all the work. Your legs over his shoulder pump furiously into his face. Like, Jake is just a mere vessel for your climax. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He doesn't even nurse his own hard-on, one that's painfully stretching his jeans. 

You're fucking his tongue, whining with each thrust, eyes starting to roll back, fingers almost pulling Jake’s hair from his scalp. Your hips stutter and then—

“Fuuuck…” Your orgasm pulses through you in ways that have you screaming silently. Your legs are trembling as his mouth vibrates with his hums against your core. Jake’s lapping up all your juices with an urgency.

Everything. He wants to taste everything. When you gently push him off from the oversensitivity, he resists at first. He holds you in place until he gets his fill, until tears are threatening to spill over. But your legs finally find the ground as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, out of breath. 

‘Whore’ you want to say out loud, but you know that would only make him hornier. He’s weirdly into stuff like that. But you smile as you comb through his hair. He doesn’t have complaints about you messing it all up as long as you’re fucking him, huh?

Jake, still on his knees, looks up at you with a lick of his lips, savoring the remaining taste of you on it. You wish he could see how he looked. Flushed. Damp. Yours. You almost lift him up to kiss him when—Ding.

The loving gaze you two share is cut off by the sound of his phone. He finally gets up from his knees, checking the notification.

“Oh shit,” he mutters. “Suji says I missed the costume fitting. I think I need to head out soon—”

You smash your lips against his, interrupting his train of thought. You moan at the taste of yourself on his devious tongue. Jake smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. Maybe you could add a few more hickeys to his collection before he heads out... Just for good measure.

jake: let’s go to jay’s together?

For one of your weekly hangouts. The nights you try to avoid because they always end with you ignoring the pile of assignments you’ve already been putting off. 

you: sure. wya rn?

You smack your forehead the second you realize how quickly you sent that text. You swear you weren’t waiting. It wasn’t like you were staring at the last message he sent five hours ago, ruminating over whether it was appropriate to tell him how much you missed him.

jake: meet me by the bleachers :D practice is ending soon.

The speed at which you change outfits is impressive, already heading to the damn field before you realize it. He’s there, dribbling with a couple of his teammates. You sit at the top of the stands, a bit out of his sight. He catches a glimpse of you anyway and waves. You shoot him a simple smile of acknowledgement that dampens almost immediately.

Because you also see Choa, handing him a water bottle. When Jake reaches for it, trying to avoid brushing her hand, she purposefully finds his fingers anyway. It’s enough for your stomach to sink.

Even though he’s just smiling politely. Even when it looks like their conversation lasts for two seconds. It doesn’t feel any less bad. Choa notices you staring, and she scoffs. “This is a closed practice—”

“She’s with me,” Jake corrects her immediately. “I told her to come. That’s okay, right?”

You lift an eyebrow, challenging her. Jake said it the nice way. If she had to hear you speak, you would have probably been escorted off the field by now. She coughs awkwardly and nods, instantly folding under Jake’s attention. Your boyfriend, by the way.

“O-of course,” she stammers. “Just make sure she doesn’t see the playbook.”

The guys continue playing, and you move down a few rows, keeping Choa in your line of sight. It’s like she feels the daggers you send her way because she whips around to glare at you.

“It’s kind of pathetic,” she starts. “How you cling onto him.” You squint at her, not sure if you heard her correctly. You turn around, too, to check if she really had the audacity to speak to a stranger like you in that way.

“You talking to me?” you ask, pointing at yourself mockingly. She clicks her tongue.

“Who else?” she bites back. “Do you even have a name, or do you usually just go by Jake’s guard dog?”

Your cheeks burn in anger. Oh, if you were in high school… She’d have been on the ground by now, makeup stained with turf and pebbles. But unfortunately, you’re trying to stick to your resolution. A reformed delinquent girl at a prestigious university—

“You mute too?” Choa adds in for good measure. You stand, and it’s like Jake’s Spidey senses tingle because he stops to watch, monitoring if he needs to step in.

“You know,” you say, voice cool and devoid of emotion, “you’ve got a lot to say for someone who has to talk like a baby to get a man’s attention.”

She snarls. “Excuse me?”

“Jake’s not gonna let you hit,” you mock, scanning her up and down with a disgusted face. You only say the next part just to piss her off. “You’re not really his type.”

“And you are?” She steps in closer. “You’re stuck in the fucking friendzone, acting like hot shit—”

Oh, if only she knew. The truth is sitting on your tongue, burning, begging to be spoken just so you can wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But you’re not that angry yet. Not enough to expose yourself.

“You seem like such a loser,” she continues, voice laced with malice. “Everyone already thinks you look like some stray puppy following Jake everywhere he goes. Don’t you have a life of your own? Any hobbies? Isn’t it sad showing up where you’re not wanted?”

Ouch. Jake was your puppy. He follows you around everywhere. 

She digs right into that ugly little fear in the back of your mind. That you look as pitiful as you feel. That you truly were just biding your time in this dumb university until Jake showers you with attention. Is this what a relationship’s supposed to feel like? Like you’re waiting for him, all the damn time?

You inhale a deep breath. You’re better than this. Better than catfights over someone that’s already yours. A man who sleeps on your chest almost every night... But you’re not above being petty.

“And did he tell you all that,” you ask with fake sweetness, “or are your delusions that Jake’s gonna fuck you starting to get to your brain?”

She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” you continue, sarcasm dripping in your voice. “Make sure Jakey knows exactly the kind of girl you are.”

Choa bites the inside of her cheek. “Not like I said anything wrong.”

“Oh, right.” You pitch your voice up to that grating baby tone she uses with Jake. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you calling me a ‘fucking loser,’ since you care so much about what he thinks.”

You could laugh at her suddenly hunched shoulders, but you just drop back down onto your seat, fake scrolling through your phone. “Don’t you have a team to manage?”

Choa whips her bob around, stomping back toward the group and desperately hoping that no one heard. But Jake is already staring. He doesn’t look mad. Just resigned. 

“Choa?” he calls out, voice low and almost inaudible. He’s not smiling like usual.

“Yes?” she answers immediately, with that lilted tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You don’t hear the conversation that takes place, so curious as to why Choa’s expression suddenly drops.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” he says, and the entire team stiffens around them. 

“And next time,” he adds, walking past her, “Just mind your fucking business.”

–

You never, in all your years of living, thought you’d be sitting in an auditorium seat watching your boyfriend act like he was in love with another girl on stage. But here you are, leg bouncing and forearms itching from the irritation bubbling in your chest.

“But don't you get it?!” Jake rehearses, script in hand. His hands flail in fake exasperation. You cover your mouth to hide the wince forming on your lips. “How can I choose between the stage and football?!”

“You don't have to choose,” Suji steps in, acting much better than Jake, at least. “You can do both.”

Jake sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. He's facing her now.

She's pretty, you think. Really pretty. Probably one of the most gorgeous girls you've ever seen in your life. And Jake is staring right into her eyes. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same. You grit your teeth at the thought.

“But what would people think of me?” he sighs. Suji shakes her head, moving closer. Your brows knit. That's not part of the script.

“Who cares what other people think?” she says softly, resting her hand on his chest. Your expression darkens immediately. “If it feels like you're alone… Then I can be there to support you.”

Maybe Jake's character should care what other people think, especially if he’s gonna prioritize singing on stage with some pretty girl over his football career—

You slap your own cheek lightly. Relax.

“Cut,” the musical director calls out. “Great job, you two! After this is the dance scene. We can rehearse that tomorrow. I think that's all for the day.”

When the actors and stage crew finally funnel out, you watch Jake stay behind, chatting with his costars onstage. So radiant, smiling at them with his toothy grin and cracking jokes as he says goodbye. He never used to be like that. Used to be so painfully shy that Jay had to accept his academic awards for him in high school.

And yeah, you feel like shit when he's standing there, surrounded by people who have stars in their eyes when he talks, while you're grumpily waiting in a faraway seat with no real excuse to interrupt. You're just part of the stage crew, after all. Just one of the invisible people who move props in between scenes while Jake and Suji’s characters fall deeply in love with each other. Yuck.

But you’re not gonna do the usual thing of dragging him to the nearest secluded area and fucking his brains out. No—you’re better than that. You’re not a loser! You’d let this pass.

“Bye, I’ll catch up with you guys soon! My friend’s waiting for me.”

The word ‘friend’ digs deep into your heart. But that’s your own fault.

Jake walks toward you, and the quick smile he throws your way is cut short the moment he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stops in front of you, forehead still glistening from the stage lights, eyes glued to the screen even as he talks.

“I have practice in like thirty minutes,” he sighs, scrolling through his calendar. “And then the crew wants to have, like, a group dinner later tonight.”

He cranes his neck to release some tension, finally looking up at you. “Damn. My character is lowkey right. It really is hard balancing the two.”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “The crew? Like Jay and Sunghoon?”

He shakes his head as he walks beside you, still a bit occupied with his phone. He's sending text messages to some massive group chat, text bubble after text bubble popping up.

“The main acting crew,” he says, emphasizing the second word. “I think they wanna run the lines at En Bar and get a couple of drinks.”

You almost stop in your tracks, but you force yourself to continue walking with him, arms crossed. Good for him, you think. And you mean it. He's adjusted so well to university life, while yours feels like it revolves around him.

What's Jake up to? Is his practice done? Who's he talking to? Is it Choa? Is it Suji? Is it every girl that makes eye contact with your newly socially adept boyfriend, who just so happens to have the most gorgeous face known to mankind?

You want to punch yourself real bad.

“Do you wanna come?” he asks when he notices you've fallen silent. He thinks it's cute when you're jealous. Sulking and pouty—when it’s obvious why you’re upset. Not when you're quiet. Not when you're creating distance between you two as he walks beside you.

“I can ask them if we can reserve more chairs—”

“It's fine!” you interrupt, but even you don’t convince yourself. “I have work to catch up on anyway.”

His lips part as if recalling something important, something he promised you. 

“I'm so sorry, babe!” he gasps. “I totally forgot that you needed help studying for your exam tomorrow!”

You shrug your shoulders. You’re a cool girlfriend. Super chill. Not crazy at all.

“No, it's okay,” you say, chain necklace feeling heavy on your chest. “I'll just go to the tutoring center. You're busy, I get it.”

His eyes are still laced with concern. You sound so disconnected, so not yourself. Did he do something wrong?

“I can come over tomorrow?” he suggests, but it almost comes out as a plea. “We can watch the new movie you wanted—”

“My roommate’s gonna be home.”

“Okay…” he says, voice fading. “What about my dorm?”

You shake your head.  “I'm not really up for a movie, I guess.” 

Jake’s expression sours. It feels like you’re shoving sheets of metal down his throat. He can take you angry. Can handle you screaming, kicking, crying, and calling him names. He can’t take whatever this is.

“I can just cancel,” he says quickly. “I’ll come over tonight!”

And Choa’s voice resounds in your ear.

“You seem like a fucking loser.”

You bite your bottom lip and stare at his wavering gaze. You wonder if he pities you. 

Has he noticed? How quickly you reply to his texts? How often you show up to his extracurricular activities? How you can’t seem to admit that you’re hurting, even when he’s right here in front of you? God, you hate this feeling.

“It’s okay,” you say, and it’s small like a whisper. “Need some alone time anyway.”

“Alright,” he breathes, relenting to whatever boundary you’ve set with him. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, but when you flinch, he retracts his hand instantly.

“I love you?” he tests.

You give him a small smile and nod, pushing past him. He moves like he wants to catch your hand and stop you. But as always, he lets you walk just a little too out of his reach.

Because you still don’t say it back.

–

So this is what it feels like to twiddle your thumbs and try not to scream as Jake misses yet another hangout... He’s busy with his daily practices and rehearsals. You get that. But it’s still physically torturous to sit through Jay and Sunghoon stoking the fires of your insecurities.

“He’s gotta be seeing someone,” Sunghoon sighs, reclining into the beanbag in Jay’s apartment. “Dude just abandons his friends without any pussy involved? There’s no way.”

You smash a throw pillow from the couch and into his face, and Jay throws another one for good measure.

“Why do you always think with your dick?” Jay mutters. “Just let Jake be. This is his moment. Not like he had much to work with in high school.”

Sunghoon sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, almost apologetic. “He was pretty lame back then.”

You never thought so. Maybe you joked about it, but you never really meant it. He was kind. A little shy. So eager to please and follow you around. And now that the roles were reversed, you weren’t sure how to feel anymore. Fuck. Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

He has this amazing life outside of you now. Cool friends (not Jay and Sunghoon). Great prospects for the future. It’s like a bird leaving the nest. Your carefully cultivated nest.

You felt like a cloud raining over his head when you’re around him now. After Choa, you started to notice the whispers around campus a little more. How people avoid him when you’re around because you can’t carry empty conversations about upcoming exam scores the same way Jake can.

It’s just different. He is. And it feels like you are too. But not a good different. It’s the kind that makes you feel like this isn’t how you should be. That you aren’t who you want to be… Maybe Choa was right.

And now a pillow is thrown in your direction. You shoot daggers at Sunghoon with your glare.

“What?!” you yell. He pounces in fear.

“I asked,” he coughs. “Is college treating you okay? You making friends?”

You roll your eyes. “Are you my dad?”

Jay sighs. “We always talk about Jake. Sue us for wanting to know how you’re doing for once.”

The words linger. What are you doing?

–

You’re stewing in it, marinating in how lonely it feels to stand in a corner with the stage crew while Jake, Suji, and the rest of the main cast laugh amongst themselves. Whatever.

“Those two are so cute,” a girl beside you says. Gaeul. So sweet, so bubbly. So oblivious to how tightly you clench your teeth. “They’d be like the it couple on campus, no?”

When you look between Jake and his toothy grin and Suji with her sweet laugh, you can’t help the way your heart constricts. “Yeah,” you mutter in disgruntled agreement. “I guess.”

Jake sends you sneaking glances, ones you don’t notice despite your eyes lingering on him. 

You haven't been the most responsive lately. He texts you a lot in between practices and rehearsals. Whenever he has the chance. He asks to come over. Asks you to come over. And you’ve turned him down almost every time.

You didn’t attend his last two games, you’re skipping rehearsals that you used to sit through for hours, and Jay knows where you're holed up more than he does. He’s worried about you. Worried that you’re avoiding him. Were you avoiding him?

“I heard you two are really good friends,” Gaeul asks you with sparkling eyes. “He seems like such a catch. How’d you not fall in love?”

You shrug. What answer are you supposed to give? It’s not like you were resistant to his charm either. “He went through a transformation recently,” you admit. “We were both kind of outcasts in high school.”

“Me too!” she says excitedly. “I bleached my hair, and everything before uni started. What about you? Were you two like super shy?”

You shake your head. “Jake was. I was just a bad student. Got in trouble a lot. My parents literally laughed when I told them I wanted to go here.”

And your heart thuds in your chest from a memory. Because Jake believed in you. Sat through hours of studying, teaching you the difference between derivatives and whatever the fuck linearization was, just for the chance to attend the same university. So he could spend time with you, so he could be with you. And now you barely see him.

“Really? I’m not surprised, though. You seem like such a chill girl. Like you don’t care what other people think of you.”

“Trust me. I’m far from it.” You catch Jake’s longing gaze again, but you turn away.

“Starting to think it was a mistake joining this thing,” you mumble, “with how often everyone forgets their lines.”

She laughs. “I like how straightforward you are,” she says with a wide smile. “Don’t really mince your words, do you?”

You smile too, in what feels like forever. It felt free to talk about something—anything—outside of him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to hold back what I say.” Which is a lie. Because you hold back a lot. More than you let on. 

“Alright!” the stage manager yells. “Let’s get in position for the final scene.”

The kiss scene. The one you’ve dreaded for so long. You and Gaeul move across the stage, setting up the mics and instruments in their right place. You move past Jake with your head down. He frowns. So you are avoiding him.

“Places, people!”

You watch, from the wings, as Jake pours his heart out into the lyrics. A song about breaking free from stereotypes and whatever other inspirational stuff this whole musical’s about. He’s good. Really good. He moves like a natural on stage, throwing Suji these soft, tender glances that look so painfully real. She glows under the lights, stars in her eyes. And as the song comes to an end, he picks her up to spin her.

Just like the script says. And you clutch your forearm at the sight.

“I feel like I can really be myself with you,” he says to her. “Like I don’t have to hide or pretend.”

Whatever.

“And you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

The two stare at each other. A pause. Jake leans in. And so does she. Fuck.

You can’t do this. Can’t watch. You turn and walk out the back exit. Your chest is heavy, constricted with that ugly pang of envy.

Fuck this feeling. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt? You hate the tears that well up in your eyes, hate the shivering of your shoulders as you hug yourself in the parking lot of the stupid auditorium. You need to go back in. Save face. Show how little that kiss scene affected you because you’re supposed to be his friend in the eyes of everyone else.

You clutch your necklace through your shirt, fingers twisting the ring. Jake, who loves you. Who desperately wants your relationship to be public, to show you off. The same Jake on stage kissing another girl for a stupid musical you didn’t even want to be a part of.

He doesn’t deserve this. This monstrous version of you, who cares too much but gives too little. Overbearing to the point of suffocation.

So you walk back in, face steeled and tears wiped. He’s talking to the director with Suji, like nothing happened. Like all semblance of your self-esteem wasn’t just ruined a few minutes ago. But you need to stop. Because it isn't his fault. It isn't even Suji’s.

It’s yours. You hurt your own feelings.

Jake sees you and immediately lights up, calling your name as he jogs over. You don’t smile back.

“I have some time after rehearsals,” he says lovingly, his hand tugging your arm. “Wait for me?”

This would be the last time you would.

–

He tries to hold your hand on the walk back home to steady his heart rate. Opening night creeps closer and closer, and preparation alone won’t save him from the nerves. But when you pull away before his fingers can intertwine with yours, he flinches.

Maybe there are too many people around, Jake tells himself. You’re probably worried about being seen. And so he continues his merry yapping. He doesn’t notice the defeated glint in your eyes or the slow steps you take next to his. He’s still riding the high from rehearsal, still proud he finally made it through every line without stuttering or needing the script.

Maybe he’ll do well enough on opening night that you’ll let him kiss you afterward. Maybe you’ll walk toward him with flowers while he wraps you in his arms. He’d spin you around, brag to the whole world that you’re his girlfriend. Say it loud and proud in front of annoying ass Jay and Sunghoon, who got front row seats.

The thought pulls a grin onto Jake’s face, making him skip ahead a little. And you both keep walking toward the dorms. Just like any other day.

Until you ruin it.

“I’m dropping out of the stage crew,” you say, casually. He stops in his tracks. All semblance of a smile wipes from his face. The show is sold out. It’s too late to get you tickets. 

“You won’t be able to watch,” he says, panic laced in his voice. You’re at a standstill, in the middle of campus, surrounded by trees and concrete. “You should’ve told me! I can see if I can pull some strings—”

He’s already taking his phone out to text someone. Probably the director. He doesn’t even ask why. Just goes straight to problem-solving. Your Jake. Too good. Too kind. Too forgiving.

It’s too much.

“I’m not coming to watch,” you say, harsher this time, stopping him from sending the message. Guilt washes over you instantly. Because he looks at you with his brows knit together, eyes wavering.

“I don’t understand.”  You don’t want to come? You don’t want to support him?

Your mouth opens to say something. Anything. But your throat feels hoarse, shoulders too heavy. Shit. Don’t cry. You don’t cry in front of anyone.

“Jake,” you start, clenching your quivering hands open and closed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart drops. 

“Do what anymore?” he swallows, his mouth dry. “I’m confused—”

“I think we need to break up.”

Numb. Everything is numb.

“W-what?” Tears sting Jake’s eyes before he can blink them back. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

You shake your head. “Jake,” you whisper, careful not to get too close. Careful so you don’t make the mistake of taking back your words. “I don’t think we’re good for each other.”

He inches forward. You take a step back.

“Do you think that? That I’m not good enough—”

“No,” you interrupt. But he isn’t listening. And he doesn’t want to. Because this feels like a fucked up joke, a prank on him that’s been taken too far. Won’t you stop?

“Because if it’s something I did, I can change,” he begs. And your heart breaks a little at how desperately he searches for a hint of emotion in your face. But you don’t relent. You can be the bad guy. You always are. 

“Please. We can talk this through.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, an unusual softness in your voice. “I don’t want to change my mind—”

“Why not?!” he asks, voice louder. The quiet that falls between you two is masked by the rustle of surrounding trees, orange and red leaves falling around you two. The cool, autumn air brushes your face. His eyes sting with redness. 

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” His voice cracks. The aching in your heart makes you want to give in, to take it all back. But you aren’t like Jake. You can’t adjust, can’t welcome change so openly. 

So as you look at him with his slicked back hair and sharp features, so different from a year ago, it feels like you've already lost something. The version of yourself who had more to give than hollow excuses and marks left on his skin.

You couldn’t admit to it even now. That you hate who you’ve become. “I’m telling you right now,” you gulp, bracing your own words. “That I want to break up.”

And the first semblance of tears falls down Jake’s cheeks as he lets out a bitter laugh. He doesn’t believe it. Can’t accept it. He won’t let this be the end.

“If it’s because of what Choa said—”

Your brows furrow. “You heard what she said?” 

His hands are in his hair, tugging at it with frustration. You seem angry, but he doesn’t know why. He never does.

“I told her to mind her business,” he explains quickly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So if you’re breaking up with me just because she called you clingy or whatever…”

And he doesn’t know it, but the words trigger something in you. Something you’ve been pushing down over and over again. The feeling of seeming weak, of needing him. The need to monopolize. It sickens you.

“It matters what I think Jake!” you finally burst out. Frustration etched in your voice, shaky from the cold air and your wavering emotions. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“All I ever do now is wonder who you’re with, why you’re with them, and I just… I just feel so fucking lonely.”

He reaches for you, but you push him away. Your grievances spill out of you before you can hold them back.

“I’m paranoid of anyone who talks to you. I couldn’t even fucking watch you do that stupid kiss scene,” you continue. 

“We didn’t even kiss!”

“That’s not the fucking point!” you scream, before you can stop yourself. You inhale sharply when he flinches. Calm down. This is not his fault. Why are you getting angry with him?

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking one more step back. He holds your wrist gently to keep you in place.

Jake stares at you with his lips parted, stunned. “So why can’t we just go public?” he pleads. “You wouldn’t have to feel this way if—”

“That’s not the issue either,” you scoff, but you can’t even convince yourself. Because isn’t this how it all started? Your unwillingness to be embarrassed, to seem vulnerable in front of others. Was this not the root of it all?

“Then what is?!” he cries, his grip on your wrist tightens, not to hurt you, but so that you don’t run. Because you’re good at that. Running.

“I get insecure too,” he reassures, but you look past him now. “But I tell you. I tell you when I’m hurt, I tell you when I’m down. Because I… I want you to understand me. I want to understand you too…”

He swallows hard before continuing. “So I don’t get why you would even bring up breaking up before we even try to solve the problem together—”

“Because I don’t want to solve it, Jake.”

His hold on you loosens instantly, arm dropping to his side. You feel colder as he steps back. Jake stares at you, hurt laced in his gaze. Like you stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife in to marinate.

“...You're always like this,” he mutters under his breath. “Always saying hurtful things without thinking about how they make me feel.”

He feels his throat close up as he draws in some baited breaths. The tears come in more heavily, his cheeks damp as they roll down his pained face. 

“So you see what I mean?” you say, your own tears threatening to spill over without you even realizing. A part of him instinctively wants to wipe them away, to pull you close and make it stop. But all he feels is anger. Because you’re the one breaking up with him. You’re the one choosing to end things. What right do you have to cry? What right do you have to look shattered when he's the one in pieces?

“I’m horrible to you,” you let out with pained laughter. He shakes his head immediately. 

“No, you’re not—”

“I always pick fights—”

“You don’t—”

“I act like a fucking bitch—”

“Don’t call yourself that—”

"I feel like I’m insane when I’m around you,” you let out, before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t think that at all—”

“But I do, Jake,” you cry. “I hate how jealous I get when you’re surrounded by other people. I hate feeling like I’m holding you back. I hate what I’ve become since…”

And you can’t finish because his tears have stopped. He’s looking at you with a new kind of anguish. The kind that you don’t necessarily expect. The kind that feels like disgust. 

“Since you started dating me?” he says like he correctly finished your statement. But that’s not what you're going to say. Never that.

“Since you didn’t need me anymore,” you whimper. “I’m not a good girlfriend, Jake. You’d be so much happier without me. Everyone would think it if they knew.”

He stands in front of you, hollow. If they knew. He has to laugh. That’s the problem. No one does. You don’t want them to. It’s clear now.

“Fine,” he says, and the steadiness of his voice makes you shudder. Good. This is what you wanted. 

He’s staring at you, jaded like he had come to terms with it. He used to love how insistent you were about your point of view on things, how firmly you stood by your opinions. Used to envy it. But now, he detests it. That stubbornness. 

“Whatever you want,” he sighs, hands slipping in his pockets. “Let’s break up. Pretend we never happened.”

Your mouth parts. “Excuse me?”

Jake scoffs, hands tightening into a fist. They’re trembling, but he won’t let you see. He can do what you do. Act like he’s okay. Act like you didn’t just kill him. He’s gotten very good at that. Acting.

“I’m being honest, Jake—”

“You don’t love me,” he cuts in. And your heart sinks. “That’s all this is. You never show it. You never say it. And I’m tired of hearing you pretend like you’re doing me a favor when I’m practically begging you not to leave.”

His voice cracks, but he continues. “So fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. You won’t ever have to admit that we dated, start a clean slate without me. Just like you want.”

He presses his lips together and gives you one last look before he takes his hands out of his pockets. He’s fiddling with the ring. His ring. The ring that matches yours.

“You know,” he starts, voice trembling and bitter, “when it was the other way around… when I felt like shit about myself…. I never once thought of leaving you.”

His gaze is on the ground. “Because I always thought I was better with you than without. Because you made me want to be better.”

His voice falters. He looks at you now, sniffling. 

“I tried to be better.”

And in one swift motion, Jake takes off the ring.  “...But you didn’t even want me enough to stay.”

“Jake, no—” 

But it’s too late. You see him throw it, the bushes rustling nearby. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and walks past you to the direction of the dorms.

“There,” he says quietly behind you. “Like we never happened.”

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even spare you a glance. It’s only when he’s fully out of sight that you dig through the orange and red pile of leaves, through dirt and branches. Tears stream down your face as you sob, searching for it like a mad woman. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic. 

But you can’t find it. No matter how hard you try to find a silver glint in the greenery, there is nothing. And you clutch onto yours like it’s your lifeline. He threw it away. How could he throw it away?

And you wonder then if you made the biggest mistake in your life.

–

You thought the pit in your stomach would fade once you ripped the bandage, but the hole in your heart opened wider. And it’s only been a week.

Jake used to dodge questions about his love life, but now he admits to anyone with ears who walks by that he’s single. You have ears. And you walk by often. You’re not sure if he’s taunting you or if you just want him to be.

When your eyes meet his at the one lecture you still share, he’s the first to turn away. Jake used to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, tilting his laptop so you could keep up when the professor switched the slides too quickly. When you pass the football field, you try not to wince when you see Choa latch onto his arm like she belongs there. He used to always pull away. 

The worst part is that these stolen glances are all you have of him. He’s blocked you on everything, which feels weird to think about. Jake, who’s always gentle, always forgiving, always offering second chances—even to people who don’t deserve it. Maybe this time you’re one of them.

You have no right to be upset. Not anymore.

And so you wrap yourself in your studies, check out new extracurriculars, even try to make new friends on campus who know nothing about Jake. You try to rebuild, try to go back in time before that fateful day in high school when you met him. But it’s been far too long. 

He was a part of you, so deeply ingrained in your daily life. How could you act like you two never happened? Like your relationship never existed? How could he do it so well?

And then, you have to remind yourself. You'd already been doing that anyway.

–

“So what did he do?” Jay questions, tuning his guitar while Sunghoon and you sit in his living room. “Did he tell you he was done paying for your stuff or…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, already agitated enough as you scroll through Suji’s Instagram. You couldn’t even muster the energy to be jealous over a photo of Jake and her holding up peace signs next to each other. You just feel empty. “Nothing happened.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “He’s usually texting one of us to get you to answer his messages by now. It’s been crickets from him for the last two weeks.”

You swallow hard. He used to do that?

Jay’s gaze flickers toward you and sighs as he fiddles with his guitar strings. “You know, I really don’t get the two of you,” he mumbles. “Like you already rejected him in high school, you’re practically just stringing him along at this point—”

You sit up. “Excuse me?”

He shakes his head, dropping the guitar onto his lap. “Jake told us,” he starts hesitantly. “That you ran away when he tried to confess last year.”

‘But that’s not the full story,’ you want to scream out loud. 

“Yeah,” Sunghoon laughs as if recalling a memory. “Dude! Remember in the summer when he started going to the gym with me?”

Jay cringes. “Yeah, and he told us it was because he’d be starting this season, but we knew it was just because you said you liked macho guys.”

You shake your head, ears warming at the thought. That’s insane. 

“Oh, and that stupid ass ring,” Sunghoon adds, clutching his stomach. Your hand instinctively clutches at your necklace, fingers brushing the chain. “His mom beat the shit out of him when she found out how much he spent on it.”

You twiddle with the ring through your shirt. You should've taken it off by now. He'd already thrown his away. So what use was it leaving him if all you were going to do was hold on?

“Why would he do all that for me?” you mutter, not realizing that you said your thoughts out loud. 

Jay shrugs. “Love makes you do stupid things.” And then he sighs. “Go easy on him, okay? You know how he is. Jake’s a sensitive boy. Especially when it comes to you.”

You look down at the ground, shame bubbling up in your chest. Jake loved you. He really did.

–

You smile from your view of the auditorium, even from the back, feeling like a speck of dust in the full house. A bouquet is in your hand as you nervously find your seat. Jake’s right. Everyone’s here to watch.

You could see Jay and Sunghoon’s tiny heads toward the front, pushing down the bitterness of not being able to sit as close as they were. It's not fair, you think. You had to buy a last minute ticket off a student who could no longer make it while they don’t even like musicals. You shake your head.

This isn’t about you. It’s Jake’s big night. 

The lights dim. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—steps onto the stage in a football jersey that looks almost exactly like his real-life one. The audience quiets at his entrance. As he delivers his cheesy opening monologue, you mouth the words with him. He’d practiced it so much in front of you. Pride wells up in your chest. He doesn’t stutter once. 

Even when Suji joins him on stage, even as they sing together during their characters’ first meeting, you couldn’t help but smile. 

The scenes blur as you lose yourself in the show. You watch the characters as they are and not as your ex and the girl you desperately wanted to hate. It was actually fun. The cheeky glances, the perfectly rehearsed dance scenes. The way the main character so seriously thought that singing was going to affect his football career. It made you laugh, made you tear up, made you suck in a deep breath when Jake leaned into her. 

And because you’re still you, and because the wounds still feel fresh, you close your eyes. You don’t have to know if he really did it or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s his moment.

‘If only I felt like this the whole time,’ you thought to yourself. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to psych yourself up to find him afterward and pour your heart out to him. You shiver at the thought.

But Jay had said it: love makes you do stupid things.

And you do. Love him. 

Enough to buy him flowers. Enough to admit that you’re done hiding. Enough to risk asking him to love you again—even if there’s a chance that he already moved on.

–

“Bro,” Jay starts, with tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again. I can’t be crying like that in front of everybody.”

“Quit football,” Sunghoon says, patting Jake on the back with unusually red eyes. “Just focus on this musical shit. I swear you could make it big time.”

Jake chuckles, watching as the auditorium empties of guests. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad you two liked it.”

God, he wishes you were here. He could imagine exactly what you’d say when you walk up to him, with a small smile you try to suppress. Saying good job while ruffling his hair. Trying to act like you didn’t cry like everyone else. Jake smiles, quietly, at his own thoughts. It’s ridiculous, coming up with hypotheticals when you’d already made it clear. You don't want to be with him anymore. 

“Jake.” 

His heart instinctively skips a beat.

When he turns, the air in his lungs escapes him. You’re holding a bouquet so big it hides most of your frame, looking at him expectantly as you push it towards him. His eyes widen, unable to speak or even take the flowers from you. Is he dreaming?

“You did a good job,” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, wanting him to feel your sincerity.  “You killed it up there.”

“Thanks,” he says shortly, finally taking the flowers from your hands. He can’t help but stare. 

“I—” you try to push out, but Suji rushes to the stage to tap Jake on the shoulder.

“Hey.” She smiles up at him. “We're heading out soon for the celebration. Did you still want a ride with me?”

“Damn, even musicals got afterparties?” Sunghoon mutters to Jay, who attempts to shush him.

Jake returns a smile. “Yeah, just give me a second.”

And when he turns around to look at you, to finally hear what you have to say, your eyes are glossed over. Maybe you’re too late. Maybe this is idiotic after all. It's been weeks. There's no guarantee he'll even listen.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” you mutter, though you've changed the words you meant to say entirely. It's supposed to be: ‘I’m so proud of you. Will you take me back? I’ll stop being so mean. We can tell everyone we’re in love—yes, even Jay and Sunghoon.’

But old habits die hard. And Suji—beautiful fucking Suji—crushed every ounce of confidence you had to come up to him in the first place.

“That's all,” you say, shooting him a small grin. It doesn't quite reach your eyes. He notices. Jake always does. Just never knows the reason why.

Before you can step back, he grabs your wrist, spinning you into his arms. Like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms.

“Don't,” he whispers. “Please… don't run away this time.”

You stare up at him, searching his gaze.

“Man, what the fuck is going on…” Jay whispers behind the two of you.

Sunghoon shrugs. “You think they finally…?”

Jake turns his head to give a disgruntled look to his two idiotic friends, and they shrink, making their way down the stage to finally give the two of you more privacy. He turns his attention back to you, wrist still in his hand, and gently moves it down to take your hands in both of his.

“I thought you didn't want to come,” he starts, licking his lips through the nerves. “Why are you here?”

Your cheeks heat up. Fuck. Where do you even start?

He draws circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. “Why?” he asks again, more confident this time.

It would be easy to act like your old self and push out a half-assed excuse. That you just want to be supportive, even after you’ve broken up. That you don’t miss him at all. But you're too tired to pretend like Jake's absence in your life didn’t feel worse than when you were with him. 

“Because…” you start, with a shaky breath. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”

His brows furrow. “About what?”

And you feel your heart pumping in your chest, your palms slick with sweat. This is harder than you thought.

“I wanted to—” You swallow, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. With the ring. The one you threw away.”

You see Jake's ears turn a bright shade of crimson. “Actually—”

“But I couldn’t find it,” you cut in. “No matter how hard I looked. I tried. I really, really…”

You start to choke up. Because fuck. He'd gotten you that ring to confess to you. Spent all his pocket money so that he could get something he knew you'd love. Had it engraved with the letter J. Your Jake. Your handsome, talented, smart, and wonderful Jake.

“...really want to get back together,” you finally let out, eyes shining underneath the stage lights as tears threaten to spill over. “I'm sorry, Jake.”

His breath hitches, hands releasing yours so suddenly. Your heart clenches. “You broke up with me,” he mutters.

You nod. “I-I thought I needed to. To find myself. But… you were right. I was just running away from my problems.”

You swallow hard, correcting yourself. “Our problems.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “So is this the part where you expect me to forgive you?”

Your heart clenches. “I'm sorry,” you say again softly.

“You still haven’t even given me a reason,” he scoffs. “So tell me why. Why do you want to get back together when—”

It’s like slow motion, what you do next. You cup Jake’s face right into your hands, crashing your lips onto his. In front of Sunghoon. In front of Jay. In front of the whole cast and crew who were packing up to leave. The same people he’s had to make excuses to about why he suddenly looked so distraught these past few weeks. You pull back, breathless.

“Because I love you,” you say, loud enough to elicit gasps from your watchers. You don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Because the words fall naturally from your lips, like breathing. And it's like music to his ears. 

“I fucking love you,” you repeat, hands still on his cheeks. His mouth parts open, breathless. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Jake swoops in, his lips finding yours again. His mouth moves against yours in tandem, slow and passionate. Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in the taste of him. You missed him so much.

When he pulls away, a shit-eating grin lights up his face. “Finally,” he whispers, cheeks flushed. “You finally said it back.”

You lightly swat his shoulder. You should've known he was trying to egg you on. Jake and all his damn questions.

“I love you too,” he mutters against your temple, squeezing you against him. “I love you so much.”

He peppers kisses all over your face, and you hear gagging on the sidelines.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters into your hair. “That shit fucking hurt.”

You smile sadly. “I promise—”

“YOU TWO WERE DATING?!” a familiar voice cries out. Of course. Nosy-ass Sunghoon. You resist the urge to drop kick him right then.

“I have a better question,” Jay pipes in. “Are we invited to this afterparty too or…”

Jake furrows his brows, turning to the idiotic duo. “What afterparty?”

Sunghoon and Jay bombard you with questions about your secret relationship, but mainly just start arguing about who was gonna call the taxi for the party they still desperately wanted to go to, since Suji had already left.

Running far away from the auditorium, Jake and you giggle as the two idiots try to chase after you. When you both reach his dorm, he doesn't waste one second after you close the door to lift you over his shoulder. You yelp as your feet lift off the ground, squeaking when your back hits the mattress with a soft bounce.

He sets the bouquet softly on his nightstand before hovering over your frame, and his knees sink into the mattress as he traps you underneath him. Jake strokes your cheek lovingly, his hand trailing down and down until it reaches the edge of your skirt. Still as short as ever. Thighs so pretty underneath the thin fabric.

“I missed you,” he sighs, hands trailing to the edges of your panties. He strokes your plush skin, sending shivers down your spine. You want to roll your eyes, deflect the warm stirring in your core as he scans your figure, eyes clouded with lust. But you’re supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Honesty and all that.

“Imissedyoutoo…” you mutter lowly, rushing through your words.

He moves closer, ear practically touching your lips. “Hm?” 

You lose patience, baring your teeth and nipping his helix. He flinches, glaring at you with a playful scoff.

“You said you weren't gonna be mean anymore…” Jake sighs, tone dripping in mockery as he pouts. And you want to say something more, but Jake’s hands land on your ass, giving you a subtle squeeze.

You know what. You'll humor him. Just this once.

You bring your lips to the ear you just bit, kissing it lightly. Steady hands trail down the fake football jersey he adorns, and to the painful bulge of his shorts. Jake sucks in a deep breath.  You chuckle, amused at how suddenly it hardens. So easy to arouse. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, licking his outer shell. He shudders against your touch, your breath on his neck triggering goosebumps all across his arms. You squeeze him through the fabric, his head falling to your shoulder. “I’ll stop…”

“Don’t,” he lets out through ragged breaths, as you stroke him languidly. You chuckle. He’s so cute. Cheeks tinged with pink. It makes you want to do worse things to him...

“Lie down,” you command, and he gladly takes your place on the bed. Your knees encase him now, tugging his stupid jersey over his head. “Let me make it up to you…”

His muscles are so well-defined, glistening under the light of your dorm room. You trail kisses down his chest, licking down his abs. Salty. Just how you like him. Jake squirms underneath you as you tug his shorts down, his dick slapping your chin on the way up as it springs free. Jake almost cums from the sight, tip flushed red and pulsing with need. To feel you. To be so buried deep inside you that he can feel the head poking through your stomach. 

When you move your head down to kiss his hardness, he digs his fingers into your shoulder. “No, baby,” he mutters. “Come up here, hm?”

You furrow your brows. Why the fuck was he trying to interrupt you during your apology?

“Wha—” 

Jake cuts you short, manhandling your waist as his fingers press into your hips. He positions your knees on both sides of his head, turning you around. He pushes your mini skirt all the way up to scrunch around your midsection. Yes, you might have an amazing view of his throbbing cock, but now you can't see his beautiful fucked out face. He breathes in the scent of your panties with hooded eyes, nose grazing your clothed folds. 

You pout. “I thought I was the one making it up to you—”

“You are,” he chuckles, interrupting you instantly. He pushes your ass down to his face with one hand, using the other to press your chest flush against his body. Your face inches closer to his member. Oh. That's what he's doing.

“Pervert…” you mumble, coyly reaching out for him. So thick and large that you need to use both hands to engulf him, pre-cum dribbling out of him as if on command. 

“I am,” he mumbles, pulling your panties low enough to give him access to your cunt, lying just below your knees. He licks a stripe up your drenched folds all the way to your puckered hole. You wither against him. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Just sit on my face when you do it.”

Your hips land down on him softly as your thumb spreads his liquid down his engorged length. This position was new to you, meaning it was also new to him. But Jake moves expertly like the quick learner he is. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your folds, pink muscle lapping at your labia like a man starved. Your tongue sticks out to offer kitten licks over his tip. 

But Jake hasn’t had you in weeks. And he knows what he wants. And it’s not the weak jutting you do against his face, or the shallow sucking you offer his engorged cock. No. He wants all of you. The sick part of you that would degrade him, that would rile yourself up like all those nights before. And he doesn’t want to have to mention a stupid nickname some stupid girl said to bring it out of you.

There were more healthy methods, he’s sure, to guide you right where he wants to be. And so Jake’s hands grip your ass, pushing you down on him harder. Forcing your hips to grind back and forth against his face at the rabid pace he sets, nose sticking in between your folds slightly as his tongue laps at your clit. Like this. Dirty. Raunchy. Aggressive. He fucking loves it. 

“Ngh—” you cry out, propelling him to push himself deeper in your mouth. You take a deep breath so his cock can slide through more easily, taking as much of him as you can to drown out your warbled moans. Your tongue finds the underside of his thickness, tapping him as you start to gag. And when Jake reaches the back of your throat, he gives you a second to calm yourself before he bucks his hips up into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, remembering to hollow your cheeks as he shoots forward. But it’s hard to stay focused when his wet, pink muscle pushes into you. 

“Fuck—Taste so good, baby—” The squelching sounds that mix with Jake’s moans against your bundle of nerves are obscene, sucking and flicking his tongue with a fervor you try to match now. Your tongue curls up to meet the underside of his girth, bobbing your head up and down with ferocity. Anything to please him. 

“Mmmm—” you moan around him. Your mouth feels so fucking good, but your pussy on his lips was like actual heaven. He could eat you out all day. As a reward. As a punishment. Anything. 

And he breathes your scent in again, groaning once more. He pushes his nose closer to your folds, the tip of it engulfed in your wetness. You almost gag around his dick at the intrusion, saliva pooling at the base of his cock. You wrap your thighs around him tighter, bouncing on his face like he was nothing but a sex toy. Erratic. Desperate. Yes. Just like that. Fuck him like you never want him out of your sights again.

He knows you're close, knows by the way you start scratching at his thighs like an agitated pet. But, no. Jake needs it. Needs you to cum all over his face. Make a mess on him. Of him. His tongue plunges into you now, index finger coming up to play with your clit.

His cock pops out of your mouth with little resistance as your body goes slack with pleasure. You're just licking at his dick with a loose hand at this point, eyes rolling back from ecstasy. 

You whimper against the slickness of his sloppy mouth, drool continuing to fall out of the corners of your mouth through your slurred speech. “Ngh—No—Let me—Fuck—Jakeeee—” you try to say, but it all sounds nonsensical.

Jake understands, more than you know, as his heart constricts so deliciously. 'My poor baby,' he thinks. Just wants to make him feel good. Wants to make it up to him so bad. But you don’t know that the only thing that could make him happy right now is for you to choke him out with your sopping cunt. 

“Mmm—Ngh—Ahh—” He’s too good down there. Too fucking messy. Why does he do this? Why does he love making you sound like a fucking animal? Your toes curl, the grip around his shaft tightening as your back arches even more into him. 

You feel it. But it's different from usual. It feels like too much. Like an impending explosion. You claw at his thigh even more, all of a sudden panicked. “Jake—Let go—Jake—” 

When he shakes his head, his tongue swipes your clit left and right. His grip on your ass pushes his nose more deeply into your soaked folds. You whimper, cheek nuzzling against his length in desperation. 

“I'm serious….” you whine as you try to pull away. This is weird. You feel weird. You try to run away from it, that foreign feeling. But it's no use. Jake's too smart, too quick. He presses you down on him harder, hugging your waist, suctioning your clit, cheeks flushed from how quickly his mouth works against you. 

“JAKE!” you scream as your thighs clamp around him, hips shuddering uncontrollably. Like a hose turning on for the first time, a spray of your juices lands onto Jake's chin and neck, coating him in your dampness. He welcomes it, tongue sticking out to taste as much of it as he can.

You cry above him, tears landing on his dick that still rubs against your heated face. He laps up every last remaining bit of your climax desperately, like they’d dry up too quickly if he didn’t. You whine, grinding yourself on him to steady your heart rate. When he’s fully satisfied, Jake frees you from his clutches, lying you down on the bed so your head can finally rest on a pillow.

His cock is still incredibly stiff. And you're still in tears.

“You… fucking… dick,” you say in between sniffles, not believing you could ever climax that hard in your life. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

And he knows what’s going through your head. Because old habits do, in fact, die hard. And now you probably think he was out fucking anyone and everyone during the weeks-long hell that was your breakup. Jake chuckles, pulling your skirt down. He bites his bottom lip at the sight of your folds. Glistening with his saliva and your juices. He fists himself tightly. 

“Still so jealous, baby?” He smirks. God, please let him indulge in his pouty girlfriend at least once more.

“No, but be honest,” you mumble. “Did you—”

“Fuck other girls?” he finishes your sentence, scoffing playfully at the ridiculousness. Your eyes narrow.

“Well, did you?”

Jake spent almost every day crying, unblocking and blocking your number over and over again just to see if you'd notice. But he can tell you all that later. Because right now, you're giving him a death glare that only makes his cock throb harder. 

“No, babe,” he mutters, swiping his wet tip against your even more drenched folds. So puffy after all he's put it through. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. “You know I’d never.”

And you do. He’s only ever been with you. Will only ever be with you. You know that. But still. The wheels are already turning in your head. You know… you're usually the one worried about these things. Doesn't he deserve a taste of his own medicine?

“Imagine if I did—”

And he slams his dick into your plushness, eliciting a scream from you. He doesn’t even let you complete your evil plan.

“FUCK—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Jake glowers, brows furrowed. You lick your lips deliciously. "That's not funny."

“See how it feels?” you whimper, as he delivers another harsh thrust, your shirt riding up your stomach from the impact. You arch your back off of the bed as Jake groans into your neck, licking a stripe up your jaw.

“All this just ‘cause I made you squirt,” he mumbles angrily, wincing as your pulsing walls squeeze his length into a tighter grip. “So fucking immature.”

You chuckle evilly. “Immature like who? Sungho—”

His childhood friend’s name doesn't even leave your lips when Jake clamps his teeth into your neck. Hard. “OW—”

A taste of your own medicine. But his skin grazes something then—a thin chain that he's seen before but never questioned.  You never wore it when you fucked. A circular hardness underneath your shirt that weirdly looks like…

He tugs on it before you can protest, and there on the chain is a ring. With J engraved on the inside. His gaze softens. And you become a blumbering mess underneath him, shy with embarrassment. “I can—Explain—Just—” 

Jake pulls out enough so his tip is the only thing suctioned in your folds before pistoning into you harshly once more. You whimper.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” he mutters into your ear, before engulfing your lips in his. With a newfound energy, Jake pounds into you with urgency, pace brutal against your already sore pussy. His hand comes up to grab your tits, spilling over your bra from the impact of his movements. So rough. So mean. Damn, you were rubbing off on him.

You have this aching desire to flip him over and ride him back into submission, but the slapping of his hips into yours devolves your thoughts into unintelligible moans. 

“Ngah—Fuck—Oh my god—”

Jake’s mouth leaves yours as his eyes travel downwards to the piece of jewelry. He likes how it looks on you. Sitting so nice between your bouncing breasts. Maybe, he’d buy you a necklace next. A pretty Tiffany necklace to go with the pretty Tiffany ring on his pretty girlfriend’s pretty finger. Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty.

He brings the ring up to his mouth, biting down on the metal, before he lowers himself onto your lips once more. With the ring in between his teeth, he grabs at your jaw to open for him. Jake transfers it over to your parted lips as you catch the ring with your tongue, coated in his saliva. He dives down into you, your tongues battling as the coolness of the metal moves between your mouths. His thrusts are slower now, but you moan just the same.

Drool drips down both of your lips, the ring getting passed between you two in the movements of your open-mouthed kisses. He lets up, the necklace falling wetly onto the pillow. He admires the red marks the chain leaves on your neck. Maybe a Tiffany choker instead?

And his thrusts deepen, until your cervix repeatedly kisses his mushroom tip. He wished you could see your expression right now. So needy. So perfect. 

“Jake—Baby—” When the pet name leaves your lips, Jake lets out a deep, guttural groan. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for you to say it.

“Yes, baby?” He repeats after you, sweat beading down his forehead as he continues to split you open, pumping into your tightness with urgency. His hands are pushing your thighs open now, admiring how the ring sits sloppily on your neck as he jackhammers into you.

“I love you,” you moan out, your hands reaching for his face. “I love you so much.”

He looks at you with glassy eyes, soft and tender. He kissed you again, sweeter this time. 

“I love you too.” 

And he spreads you apart further, fucking you into the squeaking mattress with his pulsing dick, so big that it fills you everywhere you need him. He pushes in and out, evoking a new set of tears to stain your cheeks. “Baby,” you cry out. “I'm almost—”

“Wait for me,” he pleads, elbows falling to the sides of your head. He buries himself in the crook of your neck. “Can you, baby? Please—”

You try to nod as he's ramming into you as deep as he can go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, about how good you are for him, how pretty, how perfect, how he loves the marks you leave him, how he wants you to control him, how you’re the only one he’d ever be with in any lifetime ever.

“Ngh—” His hips snap forward with everything he can give. He feels it now, too. That coil that threatens to spill inside you. But he can't. No condom. No birth control. 

And when your hips rise, clenching around him, your orgasm hits you like a truck. You mewl out in pleasure, crying as Jake tries to pull out of you. But you suction him so well, too well, that it's a little too late. He twitches deep inside of your pussy. And his mouth falls open as the first spurts of cum spill, but nothing escapes his lips. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. He needs to pull out. But your cunt feels so damn good… So warm… So wet… And so much of himself has already spilled inside you… It's okay, right? To fill you up with all of it? But he has self-control. He swears it.

“No…” You whimper when he actually pulls away, his seed dribbling everywhere.

“...’m sorry, babe,” he groans, as his hand wraps around himself, stroking languidly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jake’s cheeks are flushed as he pumps the remainder of his climax on your drenched folds, painting your clit a milky white. He sees the first of his juices push out of you, his fluids like cream all over your puffiness.

“Fuck,” he moans, his fingers coming up to spread it all across your folds. But when you look down, all you feel is empty. All you feel is the need to push down against his fingers and take him all over again. 

Jake's eyes widen as he lets out a shaky breath. You look so desperate. For what? He's not sure. But he can't deny his baby anything. He can't deny himself either. He wants to see it just once. Seems like you do too. 

“Can I?” he asks in a low whisper, fingers spreading your folds apart to watch more of his load seep out of you. And you nod, shyly, relieved you didn’t have to beg for it yourself, already going through too much exposure therapy for one day.

And so Jake gathers the cum that's gushed over his digits, and with a shaky breath, he pushes them back into you. You tighten your grip on his biceps.

“Fuuuuck—” You cry out when he starts pumping them in and out, slow but still so fucking deep. His veiny fingers always know which parts to knead. 

Jake’s eyes are in a daze, obsessed with how his cum goes back in so easily—even when you’re still so tight and so sensitive. Everything feels so fucking drenched. And like this, he wants to see you come undone again.

“One more, baby…” he pleads in a low whisper, pressing butterfly kisses on your eyelids. He licks the tears that spill from your eyes. So pretty like this. “You want to make it up to me, right?”

You can only whine in response, hands shaking as they clutch onto him for dear life. 

“Hm?” He asks for confirmation, curling his fingers up to the spongy spot inside you. He grinds his palm on your engorged clit. Whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes,’ you let the pleasure overtake you once again. Your body feels like it's on fire. Too hot. Too much. But still, your back arches up into him, whimpering.

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. Low and steady. “Give it to me.”

And you can practically hear the mess that his three fingers are creating as they pump into your folds, can feel the stickiness of your mixed juices coat your inner walls. But you shut your eyes, letting the warm tingling overtake your core. Yes—Right there—Fuck—

“I'M—” you screech, but it's no use. Your head falls back against the pillow as you sob. And Jake curses underneath his breath as you spray all over him once again, massaging your clit as he pulls his fingers out to watch. Your hips rise to meet nothing, just your body spraying so beautifully against his torso. His dick could harden once more any second now from the sight. He relishes in it, admiring his work as his cum pushes out of you again. Thick and creamy.

You look down too, seeing the fucked-out state he's put your body into. Maybe you would've been right to flick his forehead and call him every insult in the book for filling you up like that. But fuck. Could you ever have him cum outside of you again if it felt that good to have his cum inside you? No, you'd definitely need to get on the pill ASAP.

Jake’s gaze falls onto your face now, at your bruised lips and your dried tears. But the ring catches his eye once more, the one he hadn’t seen in a year. And his heart flutters.

“Babe?” he starts, lying softly next to you. He wraps you in his arms, not minding the dampness of the sheets below. He’ll clean you up later.

“Mmm?” You respond, on the brink of unconsciousness. Satiated. He touches your chain, the other hand wrapped around your stomach, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“How long have you been wearing our ring like this?” Your breath catches. You'd hoped that he'd forgotten, that the conversation could wait for the morning when your heart wasn't thumping so loud. It takes you a second before you respond.

“Since you gave it to me,” you admit, slowly. Jake can feel the warmth creep up to your ears. And he wonders how he's never seen it, how you seem to hide it so well after all the times he's undressed you before. But then again, you’ve always been good at keeping secrets.

Still, he smiles. Because even after you walked away, even when you said you were done, you still kept this piece of him. Wore it so beautifully around your neck, too.

Fuck—he’s never letting you walk out on him like that again. If you even hint at breaking up, he might actually end up begging on his knees and—

“Not like it matters anyway,” you cut through the silence grumpily. “You threw yours away.”

He lets out a surprised laugh and pulls you closer, squeezing you tight. You pout. What’s he so jolly for?

“What do you mean?” he asks cheekily. “That never happened.”

You turn around abruptly, facing him with furrowed brows. “I literally saw you—”

Your words are cut short when his mouth finds yours, one hand steadies your jaw as the other reaches blindly into his nightstand. A drawer opens. He pulls back just enough to show you the turquoise box, one eerily similar to the one you have in your closet, as he flips it open.

His ring. Silver and engraved with your initial. But how…?

“I guess I'm really good at pretending to throw things,” he answers before you can even ask. Thought I’d be a little dramatic that day…”

You smack his shoulder, but your hand massages the spot soon after, swallowed by the wave of relief that crashes over you. He didn't really let go like he made it seem. He was still yours, even when you thought you lost him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you grumble, pinching his cheek. All he does is chuckle. 

In one smooth motion, Jake lifts your necklace and unclasps it, letting the ring unfurl out and into his palm. You don’t stop him. 

He looks at you for a second, as if asking for permission. You offer Jake your hand instead of speaking. He slips the piece of jewelry onto your ring finger, kissing your knuckles. Then he slides his own ring back where it belongs, to where he’s always kept it. Jake smiles up at you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips.

And you know you’ll wear it proudly this time. Without him having to ask. 

“I love you?” he says, gently, like he needs to hear you say it back just one more time. Just to make sure. And you kiss him again, warmth coating your features.

“I love you too.”

His heart clenches in the best way possible.

Damn, he could really get used to this.

epilogue

Jake runs to the benches, grabbing at his water bottle like it’s his last salvation. He gulps it all down in seconds, sweat seeping down his body. Practice was way too intense today.

“Oh my god, Jakey,” a lilting voice punctures through his ear. “You're literally dripping.”

His eye twitches as she enunciates the last word. 

“Choa,” he starts, shooting daggers at her. He's too exhausted to put up with this today. Or ever. She was graduating in a few months anyway. He might as well say his piece. “First of all, my name is Jake. And second of all, it makes me really uncomfortable when you say things like that.”

Choa pouts, tugging his sleeve like a toddler. “Why?” she giggles. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” He pulls away, not even bothering to look at her. “I just don't appreciate how you talk to me.”

She glowers, thrown off by his disposition. He's usually so sweet, so polite. What happened?

“It's ‘cause of your friend isn't it? You know she was so fucking rude to me—”

“My girlfriend,” he corrects immediately. Choa’s hands drop down to her sides. Jake pays her no mind, packing his stuff into his duffle bag instead.

“W-what?” she stutters out. “Since when?”

He shrugs, finally slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Since forever.”

“What?!” she screeches. “How come you never told—”

“Oh Jakeyyyy,” you sing out in an octave higher than your regular speaking voice. He presses his lips together to prevent the laughter that almost seeps through his mouth.

“Yeah, babe?” He calls out, looking past Choa. You're standing with your arms crossed, eyeing her down from a few meters away. A bright new necklace shining above your shirt. 

Your gaze flickers back to him, not bothering to waste your precious energy on the small, vicious girl. You tilt your head to the side, beckoning him over in a silent command. And he follows.

Your loyal little puppy.

Jake takes your hands into his just to really rub salt on Choa's wound, your matching rings clinking against each other.

“Do you remember Gaeul from the backstage crew?” you announce proudly, the bob-headed girl long-forgotten. “She wants to hang out with me tomorrow!”

Jake smiles, ruffling your hair. “That’s great!”

“She's throwing something at her apartment this weekend, too,” you slide in. “Maybe… we can go together?”

“Oh yeah, Suji told me—” And he stops himself. But it’s too late. You’re already frowning.

“Okay, so let me go ahead and take Jay instead…” And he pouts at your words.

“Not fair,” he mutters, but you see the smile he suppresses. 'What a freak,' you think to yourself.

You click your tongue, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “...I'm biting the shit out of you later.”

And if Jake had a tail, it most definitely would’ve started wagging.

“Promise?”

fin.

A/N: Don't save him, he don't wanna be saved.

Taglist: @missoxy @cutehoons02 @zohaaz @f4loveex @rianzysworld @tinastar13 @woniewonwon @starfallia @liaviva @lhspeachie @fancypeacepersona @sanasour @reasonablyminiatureandroid @tinyhrry @nyxphobia @aernx @soulskiu @shining-won @esoteric-eye @yohanabanana @jungwongfs-blog @starjoongie @yeeunlvr @gyu-luvs @ikeuster @not-aya @ppeachyttae @psyches-reid @moonxiiey @hueningsgirl @sylphjeong @mariegibeau @beaepa @jisiziu @aloveminsalade @ilovetimotheechalamet8 @vixensss @chyshiacat @chuuiehearts @heyinnnn @sparkcling @moonstrucksofie @snghon @nct-sticker-127 @fdzvie @synielve @honeyyjw @simj4k3 @petalsofink @axfyl

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (MASTERLIST)

Part 1: Your husband of 8 years suggests an open marriage, and while he's out finding a new girlfriend, you feel like it's wrong to even glance in another man's direction. But it all changes when you download Tinder and match with Seonghwa. The man who's about to turn your world upside down. And he even happens to be your husband's boss.

Part 2: You didn't think you'd find someone after your husband of 8 years suggested an open marriage. A few weeks after matching on a dating app, you find yourself swept away on a surprise getaway with none other than Seonghwa: your husband’s boss, and the man who’s been quietly turning your world upside down. The chemistry is undeniable, the tension electric, but you made a promise to be honest with your husband before things go too far. Still... what’s the harm in finding a few loop-holes? If it’s not technically sex, does it really count?

Part 3: You try to be honest and tell your husband about your relationship with Seonghwa, but it doesn't quite go after plan. But you've had enough of playing nice, so you break the rules and give in to your hunger for Seonghwa. But what happens when it all comes crashing down when it's all perfect, and your husband gives you an ultimatum?

Part 4: Time passes since everything fell apart. Did you make the right choice? Are you even happy? But something happens one day. Something isn't quite right. And in the blink of an eye, it all erupts. Chaos. Fear. Blood pounding in your ears. And just like that, you're thrown into a moment so violent, so irreversible, it shatters everything, and nothing will ever be the same.

Epilogue: coming soon..

[thirstkanaphan]

Mingi slipping off the ear piece so he can hear the crowd screaming for him....🥵

[heartseekerjhin]

anyone wanna see mingi pin down san to a bed while he whimpers and whines

[idonthatefruits]

cute, no?

sunghoon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!! wc: 4157 warnings: kissing, rough sex, mouth fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, mean sunghoon, inexperienced (but not virgin) reader, mention of chaewon, yunjin, hanni and karina. both sunghoon and reader are kinda weird. name calling (reader calls sunghoon a whore), multiple orgasms, nude sending. if there’s anything i missed lmk.

note: this is a repost from my other account that is now deleted @/wonkizz, also this isn’t proofread so ignore any fuck ups lol

You knew your roommate was somewhat of a whore. It never bothered you, if anything, you were jealous.

He just….snapped his fingers and girls fell at his feet.

You wished you could bag guys that easily.

Albeit you and Sunghoon rarely acknowledged each other. How did you become roommates in the first place, you may be wondering? It’s very simple. You were living with your sister, she moved out to live with her boyfriend, you needed a new roommate, Sunghoon answered your facebook ad. Simple as that.

The only rules you had were keeping the space clean and not being too loud at night.

Sunghoon definitely kept up with the first one, never having a hair out of place.

The second, well… not so much. But, it didn’t bother you. You had really good noise canceling headphones for a reason.

Though at night, you could still hear the sounds of the multitude of girls he would bring home day in and day out.

Their loud moans, whimpers, mewls, borderline screams!

You don’t know if the sex is really good, or if they’re just really sensitive.

It must be Sunghoon though, right?

But is he really that good?

Sometimes you find yourself wishing you were in those girls' places…but you know he’d never go for someone like you.

Something you haven’t mentioned, Sunghoon is like, drop dead gorgeous. You’re surprised he hasn’t been casted as a model or an idol or something.

But he’s just a struggling student like you. Clearly not struggling in the sex department though.

You’re not a virgin, but you’ve only had sex three times in your 22 years of life.

All three times were not that satisfying and personally you don’t blame yourself.

You just haven’t found that person who can really do it for you, and your own hand and toy have started to become…tired.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve felt the touch of another person. You’ve started craving, like you’re touch-starved.

Back to the topic of Sunghoon, he’s mesmerizing and you are a stereotypical nerd.

You’re not ugly, but your everyday appearance is not exactly eye-catching like what Sunghoon typically brings home.

You find yourself thinking about him more often than not. What he’s into sexually. How far he’s willing to go.

One thing about you, you’re very, very sensitive.

You’ve made yourself come 5 times in a span of 20 minutes.

Another thing about you, you’re somewhat of a freak…or maybe a major freak?

Safe to say you think about sex way more than you should, and you are not as vanilla as your friends think you are.

God, if you could just get one crack at Sunghoon, you’d be happy.

But alas, that’s just a dream.

It’s midnight on a Friday, you’ve just gotten out of the shower after doing your whole night routine.

You slip on some comfy pjs (aka an oversized tee and shorts) and make your way to the couch with a late night snack (black raspberry dark chocolate chunk ice cream) ready to indulge in the food network.

Sunghoon isn’t home, you figure he’s out at a party or with friends.

You’re digging into your pint of ice cream when the front door opens.

Sunghoon steps inside and you hear a giggle behind him.

Someone, a woman, steps in behind him.

Their lips are about to meet when her eyes find yours.

“Oh!” She exclaims, pulling away. “This must be your roommate! You didn’t tell me she was so…cute!”

This woman is gorgeous. Sleek, black hair, beautiful body that’s wrapped in a dress that fits her perfectly and her face is something out of a magazine.

She must be looking at you, with your oversized, not to mention stained, tee and shorts, glasses and ice cream in hand like you’re a joke. An utter, complete, joke.

Sunghoon barely spares a glance at you, clearing his throat and gesturing between you and this woman, “Karina, Y/N, Y/N, Karina,” he introduces you to her.

All you can do is wave before realizing the situation you’re in.

Sunghoon has once again brought a woman home and you’re clearly in the way.

You spring up from the couch, “I didn’t mean to be in the way, I'll just go to my room!”

Before either can say anything, you turn off the tv and nearly sprint to your room, ice cream still in hand.

You shut the door behind you, listening to footsteps.

You hear them making their way to Sunghoon’s room, right across from yours.

“She’s cute, no?” You hear Karina ask.

“I guess, not really my type though,” Sunghoon responds.

Ouch. You already knew it, but hearing it said aloud stings more than you thought it would.

The sex Sunghoon and Karina have that night is so loud, even your headphones can block it.

Her moans and squeals of his name infiltrate your mind into the morning, as you barely got any sleep.

You assume Karina is still in the apartment by time you get up for your early morning class.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea when Sunghoon comes in, rubbing his eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

This is the first time he’s ever bothered to say this to you, not to mention the first time he’s ever acknowledged you in the morning.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile as you push up your glasses, “Not at all.”

Once you leave the apartment, the walk to campus isn’t far.

Your best friend, Chaewon, is already waiting for you in front of your first class.

By the time you’re free, you meet up with your other friends, Yunjin and Hanni.

“What’s up with you?” Hanni asks, “You seem down.”

You sigh, “Sunghoon brought a really pretty girl home last night.”

They all raise their brows at you, “Okay,” Yunjin says, “that’s never bothered you before? Why now?”

“Because,” you start, “she called me cute.”

“She called you…cute?” Chaewon questions. “Why is that bad?”

“It’s not, but after I went back into my room, I heard them and she said to Sunghoon ‘She’s cute, no?’ and Sunghoon said ‘I guess, but she’s not really my type’. I already knew I wasn’t but hearing it said out loud stung a lot.”

Hanni rubs your shoulder.

“Well who gives a fuck what Sunghoon thinks!” Yunjin says. “You know you’re beautiful, and he’s just a man at the end of the day!”

“I know!” You groan, burying your head in your arms, “I know I shouldn’t care about his opinion or whether I’m his type or not but it’s like, when someone so attractive doesn’t see you that way it’s like, damn!”

You continue, “It’s not like I’m even into him romantically or anything like that. If anything, I’m just into him sexually, cause if you guys heard what I did you probably would be too!”

“So it’s not about romantic feelings, just sexual feelings?” Hanni asks.

You nod, “More like sexual frustration. I haven’t had sex in so long and it’s kinda killing me at this point.”

“So what if you make him acknowledge you sexually?” Chaewon implies.

“How do I do that? Like he said, I’m not even his type.”

“Well number one, acknowledge that this is just for sex. You’re not changing anything about yourself for him because at the end of the day he’s just a man and we don’t change ourselves for men, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, then, do something to get his attention. Something sexual. Something that’ll catch his eye without changing how you are or who you are.”

You all pause for a moment, thinking of possible ideas.

Yunjin, after 5 minutes, lights up, “I’ve got it!”

After a long, somewhat agitating day of classes, you find yourself back at home.

You took another long, hot shower, did your night routine and dressed yourself in the cutest pj set you have.

What exactly was Yunjin’s plan? Take some pictures and “accidentally” send them to Sunghoon.

Now, have you ever taken nudes before? No. But you did a little research and you figure it can’t be that hard.

With your top pulled up and your tits fully exposed, you sit on your bed, front camera facing your tits.

The lighting is perfect, dim, but not too dark.

As you snap the pic, flash off, you look at it and…damn. If that’s not a good pic, you don’t know what is!

You spend the next 10 minutes debating if you should really do this. What if you just embarrass yourself completely and Sunghoon doesn’t buy into it at all?

Then you’ll never live it down.

But, you won’t know if you don’t try.

You pull up his contact, saved simply as ‘Sunghoon’

and attach the photo with the invisible ink effect and type ‘what do you think?’ before hitting send.

You nearly throw your phone across the room, but instead just slam it face down as your heart starts to beat more rapidly.

You know Sunghoon isn’t home right now, nor do you even know if he’ll be coming home tonight.

The only thing you can do is hope and pray for the best.

You exit out of the messages, not wanting him to know you’re waiting for a response and scroll through your phone trying not to panic.

After an agonizing few minutes, your phone dings.

You prepare yourself for embarrassment.

Sunghoon responded.

You’re expecting shock. An exclamation of sorts. Heck, even a question mark or two.

Instead, all you see is, ‘They’re nice.’

They’re nice.

Did he just fucking say, they’re nice?

Is that good?

You text the group chat a screenshot asking the same question.

The girls respond immediately, telling you to go forth with the plan, that that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath. Don’t overdo it.

You: omg

You: sunghoon i’m so sorry

You: i didn’t mean to send that to you

He reads it and responds immediately.

Sunghoon: then who did you mean to send it to?

You: a friend

Sunghoon: what friend?

You: don’t worry about it! just please accept my apology :( i’m so sorry again

The text bubble indicates he’s typing, then it disappears and reappears.

Sunghoon: I’m coming home.

Sunghoon: Don’t move.

That last text makes your pussy throb in your pajama shorts.

You send the screenshot to the group chat which erupts immediately.

Chaewon: oh shitttt hehehe

Hanni: i fear you’re getting fucked into the mattress tonight

Yunjin: you mean you don’t fear lmao good luck girl

You occupy yourself for the time being, knowing Sunghoon will be home shortly.

As soon as you hear that front door open, you act nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone as if you’re not ecstatic.

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother knocking, opening your door and letting himself into your room.

His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his face is stoic.

You look up at him innocently.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, knowing damn well you’re playing with fire.

Sunghoon scoffs, not saying a word as he walks to the side of your bed, grabbing your phone and throwing it to the side, not even watching where it lands.

You however do watch where it lands on the floor a few feet away and are about to protest when Sunghoon grabs you by the jaw.

“Do you like playing games you know you’re not gonna win?” He asks, voice low and condescending.

Fuck, if it doesn’t make your pussy more wet than it already is.

His grip on your jaw tightens, making you whimper. But you like the pain, and he knows that immediately.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, finally letting go of your jaw.

You move to do as he says, albeit slowly.

Starting with your top, you lift it over your head, your tits falling out into view.

His eyes latch onto them immediately, and you take note of how he licks his lower lip.

“Shorts too,” he says.

You lay back against your pillows, lifting your hips to drag your shorts down your legs, sitting back up to then throw them in the same direction as your shirt.

Sunghoon smirks in amusement, “Of course you’re not wearing underwear. You’re a little slut aren’t you?”

Your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow it.

Sunghoon begins to undress himself, starting with his shirt.

His pale skin is beautiful and the expanse of his toned torso almost makes you drool.

Your eyes find his arms, taking in his biceps and how much you want them around your neck.

“Hey, eyes here,” he says, snapping you back to his own face, making you keep your focus on him.

He unbuckles his belt, taking his time undoing it, pulling it out of the loop, letting it drop to the floor.

You know for a fact that your pussy is leaking onto your bed right now, and you don’t give a damn.

Sunghoon lets his pants fall, stepping out of them.

Now, he’s just left in his boxers.

“Come here, on your knees,” he gestures to you with his finger to the floor.

You obey immediately, crawling off the bed to the floor.

The carpet of your room scratches against your knees but you don’t care.

“Take them off.”

Your hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down gently.

His hard cock springs out, slapping against his stomach before stilling in front of you.

Sunghoon’s left hand finds the back of your head, grasping your hair tightly.

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, eager as he chuckles in amusement, “You must love cock don’t you?” He asks, using his right hand to slap the tip of his cock against your tongue, then spreading his pre-cum all over it as you hum in appreciation.

He quietly begins to push his cock into your mouth, before pulling back out.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, as saliva piles in your mouth and drips down the sides.

Suddenly he shoves himself into your mouth, until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag erratically.

Saliva spills out of your mouth rapidly, drilling onto the floor.

Your hands find his thighs, palms open, squeezing softly.

“I told you,” Sunghoon says, “don’t play games you’re not gonna win.”

With that, he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your mouth, getting off on how much you’re gagging.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as spit and pre-cum mix together to coat his cock and spill everywhere.

He uses your hair as leverage, not letting up for even a second.

You keep your eyes on his as he uses you for his pleasure, even as your tears blur your vision.

“Fucking filthy,” he sneers, “I’m gonna cum in this filthy fucking mouth and you’re gonna swallow it, understood?”

You do your best to nod with his cock still in your mouth.

Suddenly he pulls out, and you gasp for air.

Sunghoon continues to pump himself, still holding onto your hair, “Stick your tongue out,” he says.

You do so and soon he’s spilling his load all over your tongue and into your mouth.

Just as he’s finished, he leans down, dropping a glob of spit on top of everything.

“Swallow.”

You do, eagerly, showing him your clean tongue once you’re done.

He pulls you up by your hair, leading you back to the bed.

Sunghoon shoves you down onto your back, pushing you so you’re up by the headboard, head on the pillows.

He’s on his knees in front of you, cock still hard.

He pushes you into a mating press, your thighs pushed against your chest, practically folded in half.

Without warning, he leans down, tongue meeting your wet, sopping pussy.

You gasp, jerking in place as you squeal from the immediate pleasure it gives you.

“Sunghoon!” You cry, eyes wide as his nonchalant ones look into yours.

“What?” He responds, as if it’s nothing.

“I’m..I’m sensitive.”

He smirks, “Then that means I get to make you come more than once.”

He goes back to your pussy, pinning you down to the bed as he eats you like a starved man.

Sunghoon groans at your taste, licking fat stripes up and down your pussy.

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly, even having the balls to scrape it with his teeth lightly.

All this while your back arches up from the bed, hips held in place by Sunghoon’s hands.

“Oh my fucking god!” You shout into the open, knowing this would get you a one way ticket to hell.

Sunghoon then takes his tongue, fucking it into your hole.

You squeal loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of you.

More tears form in your eyes before falling like water from a faucet.

You’re full on crying from pleasure.

When you said you were sensitive, you meant it.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you whine,” one hand threading itself into his long locks.

He, who was occupying himself, makes his way back to your clit, licking circles around it, up and down, figure eights, anything to make you cum in his mouth.

You’re chanting to god, any god at this point.

With one final call of his name, you cum into his mouth, Sunghoon lapping it all up, swallowing it eagerly as you did to him.

Your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your high, noticing as Sunghoon pulls away, his lips glistening with your release on them.

He licks his lips, with that the remnants of you.

Just as you’re beginning to calm down, Sunghoon speaks, “We’re nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes his left hand and middle finger and inserts it inside you, making you gasp.

He doesn’t give you the chance to protest or adjust before he’s thrusting it in and out of you.

You throw your head back, getting used to the intrusion regardless.

Soon he’s inserting another finger, and together those fingers fuck you like no one has ever fingered you.

His fingers are long and they hit every spot inside you immediately.

Before you know it, you’re crying again in pleasure, the tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tear stains like the previous ones.

“Oh my fucking god, Sunghoon.”

“You love this, don’t you,” he says, almost like he’s mocking you.

His fingers curl, hitting that one spot inside you that has your toes curling.

Your mouth opens in shock, and stays open, refusing to close as he finger fucks you open.

Your pussy gets wetter as he goes on, more and more arousal leaking out of you onto his hand.

“You’re like a fountain,” he says, smiling almost genuinely. “You gonna cum again?”

You nod, finally closing your mouth, your lips pursing as you feel something different this time around.

“Sunghoon I think I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish, you’re squirting like an actual fountain, the liquid splashing out of you onto your sheets and Sunghoon’s hand.

You gasp, and even Sunghoon is surprised, his own mouth formed into an o.

His fingers finally slow down, pulling out of you as you finish.

Both of you are quiet for a moment before Sunghoon laughs, “That was fucking hot.”

You can’t help but blush, you’ve never squirted before.

It seems he can tell, “You’ve never done that before?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first to do it.”

He then lands a surprisingly slap on your pussy, making you jump.

Your eyes widen, looking at him in shock and all he does is smile.

“I’m still not done with you,” he says.

“More?” You question.

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this without me fucking you, did you?”

Sunghoon pulls you towards him by your ankles, holding your legs apart before aligning himself with your hole.

You prepare yourself for his size as quickly as you can, because within seconds he’s pushing in.

You take deep breaths, “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I know,” he responds accordingly.

You pout at that, smacking his arm as he laughs at you.

He gives you time to adjust this time around, and after a moment you give him the signal to move.

You realize now he’s calmed down a little bit from before, which you don’t mind, seeing as this is a new side of him.

As he starts to piston his hips, his cock hits all the right places.

Your hands find their place on his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He groans at the feeling, liking the pain.

You mewl at the power in his thrusts, the roll of his hips.

“Fuck, yes Sunghoon.”

“You like taking my cock?”

“Love it,” you manage to get out.

“Oh you love it?” He teases you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

He hums, focused on fucking you into the mattress.

You take his hand, bringing it up and wrapping it around your throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own widen for a moment before he bites his lip.

He presses down on the sides of your throat, just enough to wind you slightly.

“Dirty fucking girl.”

He keeps his hand there, steady pressure, making you feel closer and closer to cumming again.

“You gonna cum on my cock this time?” Sunghoon asks.

“Yes, yes, Sunghoon! Want you to cum in me!”

Sunghoon steadies himself, and uses his other hand to press on the bulge in your tummy.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

You feel the band in your stomach snap for the third time tonight, cumming all around Sunghoon’s cock as you feel him cum inside you, pumping you full.

As his thrusts start to slow down and finally come to a stop, he unwraps his hand from your throat and just looks at you.

Your face, adorned by your glasses. Your red, tear stained cheeks. You look up at him, blinking a few times in succession, “What?”

Sunghoon leans down and for the first time, kisses you.

You kiss him back, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

As you pull away, he looks like there’s something on his mind.

You want to ask what it is, but choose not to.

After using the bathroom, Sunghoon helps you change your sheets and you both redress.

You figure he’s going to go back to his room, but he surprises you as he slides into your bed beside you.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, and then, Sunghoon speaks, “So, be honest with me. Who was that picture meant for?”

You take a deep breath, gunning between telling a lie and the truth. The truth eventually wins the battle.

“The truth is, it wasn’t meant for anyone. I sent it to you on purpose,” you say.

Sunghoon’s brows furrow, “But you said it was an accident?”

“Yeah, I lied. The truth is the other night, when you had Karina over I heard you tell her I’m not your type.”

Sunghoon starts to stutter out an excuse, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Sunghoon,” you say, cutting him off. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting but at the end of the day I already knew I wasn’t your type. The reality is I kinda just wanted you in my bed so I devised a plan with my friends to make you see me differently and well… it obviously worked.”

Sunghoon is quiet, until he’s not.

You expect him to be weirded out, curse you out and call you names. But instead, he starts laughing.

“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard and yet…I kinda like it.”

You look at him to find him already staring at you.

“You’re not weirded out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m oddly flattered. Maybe that’s weird but I guess that makes us both weird then.”

Suddenly, he’s shifting so he’s on top of you, caging you underneath him.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you, albeit somewhat awkwardly, place them on his shoulders.

“Is it safe to say you fascinate me now?” Sunghoon asks, leaning down, placing slow, deliberate kisses on your neck and shoulder.

You naturally turn your head to give him more access, “I guess not. I’ve never had someone tell me I fascinate them.”

Sunghoon’s kisses trail upwards until his lips meet yours in another fiery kiss.

Breaking away after a while, he descends until his mouth is adjacent to your clothed pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you interrupt, “we just changed the sheets.”

He looks up at you, a twinkle in his eye, “We can change them again.”

AEWON 2025