naenikii._.

[nrkchrt]

─── 西村力 : AUDIO

✙ ‧₊˚ ❪‎‎ ‎ ‎𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐒 ❫‎ ⸝⸝ nsfw +18

now that sunghoon and jake finally went out and the two of you have the dorm all to yourselves, he can finally show how much he’s been missing you

💬.ᐣ.ᐟ  i remember how fake subbed audios used to be a thing on enhablr. i missed it so i decided to make my own

© don’t copy or reupload my work

[yeokii]

⠀⠀HARDLY EVER SMLE ' part two

⠀ ❤︎ ' you like him no matter how mean he is to you

𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦 ? . . meanie!seung─── ✿ 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 . 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 profanity redemption arc lwk drytexts jealous hee ' ❤︎ ( 𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 ) ♱ part one here ! 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽 . 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝖾

여키 EDITION . back from da dead js for u

⠀⠀𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗂 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽. do not copy, repost or translate my works

[yeokii]

perm three. @wonniiz @nanaminal @tasnim255 @sosaphiee @nainai112 @hanjisdoll @samsung-67 @wonipilled @meikstv @alliiure @sameeraenha7 @luxynjun @swaghmura @astrohypen @jay-j4y @blossomsunoo @kluvswon @ppopingpprcs @softieluvsyou @lizzysww @goatedwiththesaucedotcom @sunnysidesins @taesansnovia @wonsitosworld @reinourheart @jinniezret @minni-mina @yjwswhilom @jellyyjn @aengelicalangel @larusi @heeluv4ever @mimleno @amivine @jakeaddicted@tacomugi @jungwonnieluvvyy @nemonemoz @aspinny @kaiiii1009 @evancauseheeseungleft @heekatzz @lotusglowii @marianette-21 @sstrawbxrry @hoonsonenonly @sacrificemuraa @nomnomnamjoonn @simjaeyunlvrclub @apriglw @iluvjiwoong @draftsanddraftss @lilllslayswanderwoodsan @hrts4pepsi

[lilac-dreamxxz]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰⠀. ˚̩̩̥͙ simple layouts .🪷⠀꒱

⠀⠀ name 𓈒 ࣪ ♡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ྀི ८ ݁ name ⁺

⠀⠀ 𝄞ྀིྀི name .⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ◌ ࣪ . name  ִֶָ  𓂃

⠀⠀ naꭑᧉ .✿𔗌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀៸៸ n꯭a꯭m꯭e   ˚   ׅ

⠀⠀ ❤︎ ࣪  nɑme  ˒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ name 𓂂   ᮫    !͟!

⠀⠀ ⊹ㅤׂ ⠀nɑmeᅠׅ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀૮ ྀི nɑme ა

⠀⠀ nɑme⠀⑅⠀ ֺ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀◌  nɑꭑe  ˒   𔘓‎‎‎

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

[i2sunric]

1-800 LONELY AF (p.sh) — pt. 4

── ୨ৎ ── after your sister’s death, you fill the loneliness inside you texting her old number. but what happens when someone replies?

⤷ idol!sunghoon x reader (f)

!! smau (8 pics), sunghoon is freaky, y/n is a little weird but who isn’t in this world?

masterlist: CH’s PROFILES ; PART 1 ; PART 2 ; PART 3 ; PART 4 ;

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @beomluvrr @heeshlove @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14 @mintchocoddeonut @lostgirlysstuff @firstclassjaylee @jazz7gnab @cyutecoree @hooniluhv @soullesslien @chowonasblog @heartmira @keeeholic @skz-enha @swehee @all4moi @desirxriki @jakeycakeys @envil @swiftjay23 @i4tzy @k-4ttiee @simjaeyunslut @shadesofc00l @cosm1cgarbag3 @vampyriki @user131422

a/n: please don’t mind how y/n keeps changing hair & skin colour i’m trying to be inclusive 😞🫶

[jiigumi]

ֹ   ♪ (- -ᣟ݂ ݄ bios for you ֺ ⊹

۟  ♡ ݂ @ ult group ׂ 𝄞

˙ ✿ idol so0o mine :𝟹

♡ @ult group⠀ ݁ ㅤִㅤ ⊹

猫猫⬚ ྀི idol'𝓈݂ 𓈒 ཾ ‎ 𓊇

鹿 𓉸ིྀ ݁ ㅤִㅤ m✿o0n ྀི𓊇

( ྀི⬞ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷̤ ༝ o̴̶̷̤) idol'𝓈݂ ㅤִㅤ ᩴ ㅤ+

୨୧ l𐐫ve site݁ ㅤִㅤ ᨳଓ

‍ⓘ 兔 𓈒 ֯ @idol ♡

+ ‎ ִ ‎ ‎ ‎ ཾ ‎ credit @jiigumi ᩧ ̮͈ ̞ ̮͈ ࣪  ˖

[enchive]

COME KISS ME [AND BITE ME]

sunghoon just wants to bite you, so why is the universe making it so complicated for him? alternatively-- the five times where sunghoon wants to bite you + the one time he actually does.

vampire!park sunghoon x f!!reader, ft. jake fluff/comedy(?), smut, minuscule angst wc: 28.9k cw: MDNI, mentions of biting, violent language that comes with aforementioned biting, eating people in a vampire way, lots of blood talk, first times, mention of poor eating habits, p in v, unprotected sex, handjobs, fingering, i lowkey trolled on the smut ngl

enchive's lttr: im not gonna lie everything i had planned for this fic went out of the window LOL i changed a lot from my initial idea. but nevertheless i hope u enjoy i lowkey felt like i trolled on this too much… ALSO SMALL SPOILER ABT WHAT'S HERE but should clarify . i love sangwon he's my ult but i saw a pic of him on twt where the light made it seem like he had fangs and i got soo dizzy thinking about vamp sangwon too…

Being a vampire was so tedious.

Sunghoon always had to wear sun protection no matter where he went, constantly sporting long sleeves and jeans despite the weather. His face always had a white cast on it from the constant layers of sunscreen he reapplied on his skin. He could never sit near the windows in his classes either, always having to choose the seat farthest from the light. And when the sun began to pierce through the glass and creep across the floor, he would have to quietly gather his things and move before the delicate rays would even get a chance to brush against his (heavily guarded) skin. Summer was miserable for him, and he could never enjoy the beach like his friends did. He always had to obsessively monitor the UV index like a wannabe “alpha male” checking their stocks and bitcoin.

He’d always have to drink his human blood in class, too, always cautiously sipping on the viscous liquid from his black thermos and pretending like it was coffee. The metallic scent lingered in his nose for hours afterward no matter how quickly he swallowed it down, and he’d constantly have to lap at his lips to hide the faint burgundy stains before someone noticed.

Eating normal food was equally annoying. Technically, vampires could consume human food if they wanted to, but it tasted like damp cardboard at best and expired garbage at worst. Still, pretending to eat was necessary when he was around other people, which meant Sunghoon had spent the last several years mastering the art of pushing food around on a plate while nodding through conversations. And not only was it annoying, but Sunghoon genuinely had to fight for his life during lunch whenever his classmates or friends had garlic in their food, which was nearly all the time considering how much garlic Koreans used on a day-to-day basis. (He hadn’t lived long enough to evolve to where he was immune to garlic. Curse immortality.)

Everything was such a hassle. Not to mention the sheer internal humiliation he was facing. Vampires used to be feared once as creatures of the night, blood-sucking ravagers that made people light incense at their doors and hang garlic wreaths on their windows. But that was centuries ago, and now, Sunghoon spent most of his immortal existence trying to pass his university classes and buying bulk sunscreen at the Costco that was so busy he had almost let himself wilt in the sun one day. Don’t even mention the fact that vampires were so romanticized that nobody could take them seriously— he had a real bone to pick with Robert Pattinson.

Despite that, surprisingly, that wasn’t the vampire’s biggest problem.

No, the biggest problem that Sunghoon was facing was you.

His biggest problem sat three seats away from him every Friday from 11 AM to 11:50 AM. His biggest problem smelled so fucking good that it nearly made Sunghoon moan out loud the first time he ever walked past you in class. His biggest problem was the cute little human that was so nervous and meek that not once had you spoken up in class. Sunghoon didn’t know if he hated being around you because it made him almost go feral, or if he liked you because you smelled so delicious that Fridays were genuinely the only thing he looked forward to.

He couldn’t help but always stare at you during class, his brain throbbing with how fucking tasty your blood smelled from under your skin. Sometimes, Sunghoon caught himself imagining what it would feel like to sink his fangs into your throat– to break through your epidermis, taste warmth, dig his fangs into your veins and drink until your pulse finally slowed beneath his mouth. The thoughts were intrusive, violent, and embarrassingly frequent. 

And sometimes, when you sat close enough, Sunghoon could practically hear your blood throbbing and rushing through your veins– so hot and tempting. You had to be AB+, Sunghoon could just smell it lingering in the air, the scent of the protein-rich blood type. It made him feel like how he was when he first turned. Back then, even a mere paper cut would send his tastebuds into turmoil. He had never reacted this strongly to a human before, let alone someone in a random university discussion section.

He just wanted to bite you so fucking bad that it made his sharp fangs ache with desire.

“Alright, everyone,” your TA, Heeseung, called out from the front of the classroom. “Since the midterm project is due in a month, I’m assigning partners today.” Everyone’s expressions flickered with disappointment and annoyance, but Sunghoon barely looked up from his laptop. Why were people complaining when it was literally in the syllabus…

Usually, group projects didn’t bother him. Humans tended to avoid him naturally anyway– something about his permanent blank expression and tendency to stare too long made most people keep their distance. It worked out well for him. The less interaction he had with humans, the less likely he was to accidentally reveal his identity. He didn’t care if he ended up with most of the work anyway; he was infinitely more competent than the rest of his peers.

But when Heeseung opened his mouth to reveal the first pair, the two names that he didn’t expect fell from his lips. “Sunghoon and Y/N?” the TA looked at the both of you with satisfied smiles.

Sunghoon’s entire body went rigid, and if he had any blood flowing through his system, then it would’ve flooded his entire face with a flush. Slowly, carefully, the vampire lifted his head to glance at you, mustering up all of the courage he could. And of course, you met eyes with him. You looked equally surprised, blinking at the TA before your gaze awkwardly shifted back toward him. You sent him a small and awkward smile, accompanied with a tiny wave of your hand. Sunghoon could only stare back before he realized he was being kind of rude, so he offered you a nod of his head to acknowledge your greeting.

After class, he planned to approach you after everyone filed out of the classroom, but you surprised him as you came up to him. “Hi,” you said quietly, clutching your notebook against your chest as you approached him. “Uhm, I’m Y/N. I guess we’re partners now...”

Sunghoon stared at your face. Your pulse fluttered immediately beneath your skin, bumping rapidly under your points. He could hear and feel all of it. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the smooth flow of blood moving through your veins, the warmth radiating off your body in waves strong enough to take him under. He wanted to thank Heeseung for giving him the best opportunity to drain your blood– fuck, he should treat the TA to a meal or something for giving him the tastiest meal possible.

“Uhm, Sunghoon?”

His eyes snapped back up to your face as he swallowed the drool accumulating in his mouth. “Yes?” he answered quickly. He heard your heartbeat speed up, pounding even harder at his response.

“Uhm, uh… do you want to exchange numbers and text about the project later? I have to go back to my place before I have work…” You shyly smiled. Sunghoon nodded, fumbling his cellphone out of his pocket. You gently took it from his cold hands, punching in your number and saving your contact under your first and last name with “(ethics discussion)” at the end of your name. “Uhm, I’ll see you later!” You waved cheerfully before skedaddling off, your sneakers squeaking against the tiled floors.

Oh, he was so going to eat you.

You texted back at 9 PM, when Sunghoon was comfortably lounging on his couch with a blood bag in his left hand and the television remote in the other.

He perked up, opening your chat box to see you diligently asking about the project.

y/n l/n (ethics discussion): hi sunghoon! i just got out of work, sorry for the late text. y/n l/n (ethics discussion): do u want to meet up this weekend to start the project? Park Sunghoon: Yes. My schedule is free this weekend. Park Sunghoon: We can do tomorrow if that is not too soon. y/n l/n (ethics discussion): YAY awesome! ur so hardworking y/n l/n (ethics discussion): uhmm do u want to meet at the library? Park Sunghoon: Yes. I will be at the library. What time? y/n l/n (ethics discussion): UHMM maybe liek uhmmm 4pm if that’s not too late? I wanna sleep in hehehe Park Sunghoon: Okay. We can meet. I will get there early to reserve us a table. y/n l/n (ethics discussion): oke but don’t feel like u have to get there early!! thanks sunghoon n gn! Park Sunghoon: Goodnight.

The next day, Sunghoon arrived to the library at 3:15 PM sharp.

He really didn’t mean to come that early– but he was just so fucking hungry, he just couldn’t wait to sink his fangs into you.

He walked around the library, trying to find a secluded area. He scored the jackpot when he found a table nestled in the corner of the vast library, away from any open windows and private enough that most people wouldn’t walk by it. He had already organized all of the materials they needed for the project into neat piles: his ethics textbook, laptop, notes, printed sources, and color-coded sticky tabs.

He sat for the next 35 minutes, leaning back and staring at the project guidelines. Nobody walked past in the last half an hour, making Sunghoon even more giddy. He was gonna bite you, and you were going to be sooo tasty. He was practically drooling at the thought of ingesting your delectable blood, squirming in his seat as his body caught up with the excitement

Sunghoon paused. His eyes slowly drifted around, examining his surroundings once more. He spotted at least three cameras, the lens practically staring him down and winking at him with a red light every couple of seconds. He frowned. What was he thinking? Dracula, he was being so stupid.

He couldn’t just eat you here, especially when he was just assigned to be your project partner. Humans were annoyingly investigative nowadays, too. If you suddenly disappeared after meeting him alone for the first time, he would immediately become the prime suspect. Heeseung assigned you both to be project partners just yesterday in front of at least 19 other witnesses. And even worse— your text messages were sitting right there on his phone, immediately pointing him as the culprit.

Fuck, murder was so complicated in the modern age. Sunghoon missed it when he could simply go in, suck some blood, and disappear into the night to become a village legend.

The vampire grimaced, clicking his tongue irritably and leaned back into his chair with a sigh. Maybe he’d just take a little blood instead…? Ugh, but even though Sunghoon had lived for wayy too long, he still couldn’t find the proper balance between “just a little bit more” and “certain death.” And he was sure that if he didn’t take enough, you’d remember and report him for being a weird cannibal pervert.

Sunghoon’s overthinking was interrupted as his nose caught the whiff of something familiar and enticing.

His tongue instinctively darted out, as if he could taste it in the air. It sat exquisite, heated, and heavy on his senses. He sniffed, trying to hide the fact that he was really smelling the aroma of delicious blood. Soon, you stumbled into his sight, holding an Iced Americano with your sneakers squeaking against the floor. His grip tightened on his mechanical pencil, and he instantly covered his mouth. He felt like Edward Cullen in that science class.

“Sorry, Sunghoon! Were you waiting long?” You pouted, making quick work to set down your Americano on the table and pulling out all of your things.

“It is fine,” he coldly dismissed, looking at his things before looking back up. He was momentarily stunned when he finally looked at you properly. You looked… endearing. You wore an oversized hoodie that swallowed the top of your legs, your hair slightly messy like you had rushed to get ready, and your lips were glossy and plump. He could hear your heart pumping wildly, trying to supply oxygen back to your muscles. You definitely ran here.

“Are– are you mad? I’m sorry…” You meekly mumbled again. He felt a bit sad, honestly, at how pathetic you seemed. You looked like a kicked puppy. Sunghoon sighed, reluctantly reassuring you once more. After all, blood tasted worse when emotions were sullen, and he wanted to optimize your flavor.

“I’m not mad, I promise,” he tried to lay it on thick, a tone of reassurance that he was sure to placate you. And placate you, it did. You instantly perked up, a smile stretching across your lips.

“Yay, okay. Uhm, should we get started?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yes, I already have the guidelines pulled up–”

“Really? Can I see?” You cheerfully cut him off, immediately invading his personal space as you pulled your chair next to him, your head craning to look at his laptop. He caught a whiff of your shampoo, so soft and clean and melding into the fragrance of your perfume. “This looks hard– can I scroll?” You peered up at him with sparkling eyes, and Sunghoon couldn’t say no.

“Sure,” he replied. You smiled and scrolled through the PDF, groaning silently.

“A 10-pager? Seems like it’s not gonna be too hard, but I hope Heeseung isn’t strict. He’s grading it, right?” You looked at him for silent approval. He gave you back a nod in response, his jaw clenching at your close proximity. His gaze naturally drifted down to your neck, where he could almost see through your skin the beats of your pulse throbbing against the junction of your neck and under your jaw. He swallowed and looked back at your eyes, where you looked a bit confused. “Uhm, okay, I’ll share a document, and then we can get started!”

Sunghoon watched as you went back to open your laptop, decorated in cute stickers messily with the remnants of old glue still sticking to the case. “Sunghoon, should we do an ice breaker before we start?” You asked shyly. He raised an eyebrow. An icebreaker? “Like– ya know, to know each other better… I think it’ll make our synergy better!”

“Sure, we can do an ice breaker. What should we do? Name, year, major?” He asked, going along with your wishes. If he did, you’d probably like him better, right? Maybe it’ll help him suck your blood faster…

“Sounds good! Uhm, my name is Y/N, I’m a second year, and then I’m an Philosophy major! How about you?” You chirped, looking up at him eager, your cheeks.

“My name is Sunghoon, I am a third year, and I am a Business major,” he parroted the template. You looked satisfied with his response.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were older than me!” You giggled, clicking something on your laptop. “Sunghoon, what’s your email?” You pouted.

“Here, give me your laptop, I will type it in for you,” he smoothly replied. You slid the laptop towards him, allowing him to punch in his email so that you guys could share the document. You clapped, only your palms hitting together while your fingers outstretched, resonating a silent smacking sound. Meanwhile, he was struggling to type his email, pressing in the line key-by-key with slow fingers. You didn’t seem to notice, too distracted by rose-colored glasses apparently.

“Awesome! I’m so grateful we’re partners, Sunghoon. You seem like such a diligent worker,” You unexpectedly praised him. Sunghoon’s eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden compliment. Nonetheless, he responded politely with a steady thanks. He opened the shared document, already seeing that you had pasted down the project guidelines to the empty sheet.

“Uhm, let’s see… So, let’s pick a specific argument first! Since our project is about the ethics of human interaction, uhm… let’s see…” You hummed, and Sunghoon nearly mistook your vocal projection for the sound of your blood humming in your veins. He stared at you directly, the contact never wavering from your face. For some reason, your BPM became rapid, and he could sense the warmth of your blood travelling to your face. You kept glancing between him and your laptop screen, your expression seemingly awkward.

“Oh, how about uhm, intent vs. impact! I think it’s prevalent enough everywhere to be easy, but if you think about it enough, you could really get in there!” You suggested, your posture straightening as you looked at Sunghoon.

“Hm? Could you tell me about it more?” He coaxed you gently with a low voice. You pursed your lips, your arms coming up and tensing in front of your chest before you nodded.

“Well…” You tucked your legs beneath your chair thoughtfully, tilting your head to the left and glancing at one of the library shelves before looking back at him, “Like, if someone wants to hurt another person but chooses not to, does that still make them a bad person?” You smiled, eyes silently seeking for his approval yet again, and when you didn’t get it, you continued to ramble, “Because technically, everyone has intrusive thoughts sometimes, right? But I think restraint matters more than the thought itself.”

Restraint. Sunghoon almost laughed. You had no idea, you really had no idea.

“I think intent matters,” you continued softly. “Like… if someone is trying really hard not to hurt another person, then they probably care about them, right?”

Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment before quietly asking, “And if they still want to?” You blinked, a little taken aback.

“Want to what?” You asked, your voice coated thicky with sweetness and innocence.

Hurt you, devour you, sink teeth into your throat until the coppery smell and metallic taste drowned out every coherent thought lingering.

Instead, Sunghoon simply gestured vaguely toward the assignment sheet. “Cause harm,” he answered smoothly, as if his thirst didn’t make his head ring.

“Oh.” You nodded slowly. “I dunno… I think wanting something isn’t immoral by itself.” You shrugged, your voice shrinking, “It’s more about whether they act on it…?” Your voice trailed off, waiting for Sunghoon to approve of what it was saying before further explaining. The older man nodded with you.

“Sure– I think it is a good argument to make.” He smiled. Your entire body seemed to have relaxed when he finally showed you a semblance of his approval.

“Okay, yay, great!” You cheerfully responded, beginning to messily construct an outline of your shared paper. Sunghoon silently watched you as you worked. Your brows furrowed slightly as you began to concentrate, your bottom lip getting trapped between your teeth every few seconds while you typed. Every time you slightly leaned forward to read something on the screen, the neckline of your hoodie shifted just enough to expose more of your throat.

It was genuinely becoming difficult for him to think. Even more so when you casually began suggesting more ideas to him, as if you were mocking his situation.

“Maybe we can talk about how restraint itself is a form of care?” you proposed absentmindedly. “Like… choosing not to hurt someone even when you really want to. Ah, wait but… if you really think about it, if you really want to hurt someone, that could make you like… an asshole or something, right? I dunno…” Your thoughts seemed to flurry out of your mouth. “I’m experiencing so much cognitive dissonance right now thinking about our arguments…”

Sunghoon’s fingers tightened around his mechanical pencil hard enough for the plastic to creak. You looked up at the sound immediately. “You okay, Sunghoon?” You tilted your head with a furrow of your eyebrows and a confused little pout. He nodded, sharply inhaling.

“My mind is crowded.” He breathed out. “Just thinking about ethics too hard, you know?”

“Mmm, I get ya!” You giggled, and Sunghoon was beginning to think you were a little oblivious to your surroundings. Meanwhile, he could hear everything. The soft inhales of your breaths, the tiny swallows in your throat after each sip of coffee, and especially the steady pulse beneath your skin. Your body and organ complexes were disgustingly loud. “Oh!” You suddenly perked up again. “We should probably divide the workload.”

“Okay,” he nonchalantly responded, trying to steady his own breathing, inhaling and exhaling through his nose as you continued to babble on.

“You seem smart, so maybe you can handle the philosophical theories?” You smiled sheepishly. “And I can do the case studies and formatting?” Smart? He supposed living for over a century did give him a slight academic advantage.

“That works.”

“Yay.” You clapped softly again. “Oh, and we should probably exchange schedules too.”

He nodded once more while you reached for your phone, sending him a quick text with a picture of your schedule. He slowly worked through his phone, trying to find a picture of his schedule and scrolling on the screen with a single, determined finger. You watched, curious as the supposed third year university student struggled to find one simple photo. He cursed in his head. Samsung phones have been out for 38 years already, shit– how am I still bad at this?

Sunghoon grumbled under his breath, thumb hovering uncertainly over his screen while he tried to figure out how to attach the image. You stared for a moment before quietly laughing.

“…You don’t know how to send photos, Sunghoon?”

He jumped, not even realizing that you crept up to be beside him. His senses were dulled with the sheer amount of concentration he was using to try to send a photo to you. “I do,” he immediately defended. You tilted your head, looking like you didn’t exactly believe him.

“Sunghoon, you have your brightness at maximum.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He retorted, his voice sharper than he intended.

“Oh my God.” You dissolved into another laugh, shoulders jumping up and down as your whole body was wracked with the sounds of your amusement. “Give me your phone.”

Sunghoon reluctantly handed it over, and your fingers brushed his briefly. Warm. So warm. His throat tightened instantly, and he swallowed down the bubble of hunger that was creeping up his throat. Meanwhile, you blinked down at his phone before gasping quietly. “Wait.” Your body froze.

Sunghoon stiffened. Shit, did you accidentally find his masterlist of every vampire who went to your university? Did you stumble upon the website he used for discreet blood bag shipping? Oh my Dracula, you probably found that stupid video Jake took on his phone when they were mixing blood packets with cranberry juice to make that stupid Vampire’s Kiss cocktail–

“Your font size is HUGE.”

The vampire breathed a sigh of relief. “What?”

“I swear, my grandma’s phone looks like this too.” You giggled, squinting at his screen. “Why is everything the size of a billboard?”

“My eyes are bad,” he defended flatly, crossing his arms, noticing the way you were momentarily distracted at the motion. He looked down briefly to see his muscles bulging, amused at your reaction. You quickly snapped out of it.

“Aren’t you like– 20 something??”

Sunghoon paused. Technically, he was closer to one hundred and 20 something, but you didn’t need to know that. “My eyes are still bad,” he repeated stubbornly. You dissolved into laughter beside him, the sound startlingly bright in the quiet library. Sunghoon stared at you, momentarily distracted from his hunger by the way your nose scrunched as you laughed so hard.

Cute.

The thought appeared so suddenly in his brain that it genuinely irritated him.

You were supposed to be food. Not cute.

You worked through his phone more, adjusting the brightness to a lower setting. “Dude, your phone probably dies in like– three hours with the screen this bright.”

“I like seeing my screen.” He raised up his hands, the urge to defend himself with every attack on his phone getting stronger and stronger.

“You’re kind of like an old man.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are very talkative.”

Your laughter instantly died. “Oh.” You shrunk a little into yourself. “Sorry.” Your pulse dipped sadly beneath your skin, and Sunghoon immediately regretted speaking. He was beginning to notice that your emotions affected your scent more than other humans. He knew that emotions could affect the taste, but he could literally inhale and digest the aroma of sulkiness permeating off of your skin. Happiness made your blood smell sweeter somehow, relieving like ice cream on a hot sunny day. Meanwhile embarrassment and sadness dulled the fragrance into something muted.

“No,” he corrected awkwardly. “I did not mean it negatively.” You blinked at him. “I just mean…” He paused. Dracula, social interaction with humans was awful. “I do not mind listening to you.”

The silence afterward was deafening, and Sunghoon was almost afraid that he said something wrong when suddenly, your heartbeat abruptly skyrocketed. “Oh,” you squeaked softly. Sunghoon frowned slightly. Why were you reacting like that? You quickly looked away from him, pretending to fix his phone settings while your whole body seemed to rush with blood. “Uhm, okay! I fixed your brightness and your font size a little.”

“A little?”

“Yes. I left it a bit big because apparently, you’re eighty years old.” Close enough, he supposed.

“You are mean,” he deadpanned.

You gasped dramatically. “I’m literally helping you!” 

“Yeah? By calling me old?” He poked his cheek with his tongue. You huffed, handing his phone back to him with both hands. Sunghoon took it from you carefully, and yet again, your fingers brushed. So fucking warm, even at your fingertips. He was so distracted that he almost didn’t pick up on how fast your heart was pumping again, and how the blood was hustling towards your cheeks. 

You had already turned back toward your laptop, entirely oblivious to the internal warfare happening beside you. “Okay!” You chirped. “Back to ethics before we both fail!”

You pulled your chair closer to him without asking and seemed to have relaxed, because you continued to ramble on about literally anything. Your voice grew louder with every passing minute, words spilling out easier and easier the more comfortable you became around him. He was impressed with the way you multitasked– typing and babbling off as if words simply generated from your throat. Sometimes you’d randomly trail off topic entirely, rambling about your coworkers, complaining about your professors, or making dramatic comments about how hard the paper was (even though you were hard carrying the articulation of each sentence.)

Hours had passed, and before he knew it, the front desk worker’s voice crackled over the speaker. “It is now 10 PM, the library is now closed. I repeated, it is now 10 PM, the library is now closed.”

“It’s already 10 PM? Wow, I didn’t even notice. We’ve been here for six hours!” You gasped, quickly slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. Sunghoon was pleasantly surprised too. Time had gone by so fast that he didn’t realize that 6 hours had already passed since you’ve guys started. He glanced down at his laptop, amused as he only saw one page of the 10-pager written.

“Seems like we have gotten a lot of work done,” he joked. You giggled, nodding as you stood up. You nearly tripped, and he heard your heartbeat spike as you almost slipped on the wooden floor. “Careful now,” he said lowly, watching you with keen eyes as he packed his own bag. You smiled shyly and nodded. He stood up, and you both began to walk together out of the library.

“I’m hungry,” You complained. “Uhm— so, I’ll text you later and we can meet another time this week? Sounds good?” You smiled, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Yes, that works for me.” He nodded. “I will see you later. Text me when you get home so I know you arrived safely.” And yet again, your blood began to splotch on your cheeks.

“Okaayy, will do! Get home safe~” you chirped, before prattling off to the parking garage. Sunghoon waited, looking around discreetly to see if anyone was nearby. He tucked himself into a blind spot, before his figure dispersed into bats, leaving only a shadow of a vampire behind.

“Hi Sunghoon!”

Your bright and cheery voice was something that he had gotten used to over the past week, seeing you at the library almost everyday. Sunghoon didn’t expect to work with you so often, but it just happened naturally, your “hard working days” escalating as each day passed until they became so consistent that it was sort of an expectation to see you so often. Throughout the week, he seemed to get to know you more and more–

Not enough to stop viewing you as his potential blood bag, obviously.

But he wasn’t exactly finding out useful things either, which he feels is somewhat of a step-up. Maybe he’ll earn good karma points for being a sympathetic blood-sucker. He knew you actually hated Iced Americanos, but only ordered them to “fit in.” He found out you gnawed on your little fingers when you were stressed, biting off the dead skin that bordered your nails when things got especially tough for your brain. He also knew you worked too much, slept too little, and apologized every time you spoke for longer than thirty seconds.

Maybe Sunghoon was just getting weirder the more he hung out with you. He didn’t know– as long as he got what he wanted out of it. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted back, already situated at a table. The library was too crowded these days with midterms approaching, so instead, you guys found a cozy little cafe to study at in the city. You offered him a ride, but Jake was already going into the city, so he hitched a ride with his roommate.

“Am I late again?” You pouted, your hair frazzled and hoodie haphazardly dangling over the expanse of your head. He shook his head with a charming smile.

“Just on time, I promise.” He gave you a quick nod.

“Wait— you know what? You’re right. You’re the one who’s always early. Why do I always feel late?” You grumbled, sitting down. You looked so delicate, so fragile. The undertone of your skin was slightly off, not as warm as usual. There were dark bags under your eyes, hollowing out your face and making you look gauntly. Sunghoon grumbled under his breath– if you were sick, then how else would he get his protein from your blood?

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You blinked at him, almost surprised by the question. “Hm?” You quickly smiled quickly, as if it was an instinct. “Yeah! Why?”

Your heartbeat was slower than usual, pumping sluggishly as if doing the bare minimum to keep you alive. Your movements were too, even the way you reached for your laptop seemed to not be as hyperactive as you usually were. “You look tired,” he answered simply.

You laughed weakly. “Really? Do I?”

“Yes,” he answered. Your shoulders dropped. It was like finally being seen was alleviating a weird pressure from your body.

“I had two shifts back-to-back yesterday.” You sighed. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, nervously rubbing your wrists together. “And then I stayed up finishing another paper for one of my philosophy classes…” Sunghoon frowned.

Humans were strange creatures, indeed. You required sleep, food, water, sunlight, emotional support, and apparently eight million hours of studying just to survive through the perilous journey of university. How exhausting– he could just stay up all night until his brain felt ready to take an exam, or work on a paper until it was revised to perfection. Being a vampire did have its perks.

“You should have rested,” he stated obviously. You smiled, trying to hold back a snarky remark. Sunghoon seemed to have noticed the resistance in your expression, because he added a very short, “I am serious. You should rest and take care of yourself. This is not good for your wellbeing or health.” Sunghoon suddenly became aware of how blunt he sounded. Most humans usually found him cold when he spoke like that, so he sort of expected a weird reaction from you, but instead, you only stared at him for a moment before a soft giggle escaped your lips.

“That almost sounded like you were worried about me, Sunghoon.” Your voice was almost teasing. 

He was, because if you collapsed from exhaustion, your blood quality would worsen heavily, and all of the medicine that would be pumped into you if you fainted from exhaustion would make it taste like shit. “I just need my project partner functioning,” he replied smoothly. Your smile widened at his words.

“Mhmm.” You hummed, your tone indicating to him that you didn’t exactly believe him. He narrowed his eyes, perplexed at the subtle gauge.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Your heartbeat sped up. It seemed to do that a lot around him, and he didn’t know why. All that he knew was that it was making him start drooling a little–

Sunghoon blinked once, forcing himself to focus. Your heartbeat was doing that thing again. It was pumping faster in uneven beats. It was noticeable, and he almost considered asking you if you had a family history of heart conditions or heart palpitations or something along those lines. As you were typing on your laptop, he suddenly picked up on something. It was barely visible to the eye, but of course, his keen pupils locked onto it. Your hands were shaking, trembling delicately at the tips and moving down to wrack at your digits. He inhaled sharply, pretending to take a deep breath when his sharp nose caught a whiff of something unusual– your blood wasn’t as sweet as usual. Were your glucose levels down?

“Did you eat today?” he asked suddenly. You looked up suddenly at his abrupt question.

“…What?” You replied dumbly.

He frowned slightly, wrinkles forming in between his thick eyebrows. “Food. Did you eat.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You laughed weakly. “I mean, uh, yeah, kind of? I had a granola bar– it was really good! It had chocolate chips, those are my favorite types of granola bars!”

Sunghoon exhaled deeply through his nose. A granola bar was not food. That was, at best, a suggestion of food. “That is not enough.”

That got a real laugh out of you this time. “Sure it is, Sunghoon! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! Why are you so particular about my breakfast anyway?”

Because if you collapsed or passed out or fainted, it’d be so inconvenient. You’d taste bland, just like the hospital. And then for the sake of optimizing your blood (and morally, he guessed), he’d have to wait until you were in your prime health condition. Because–

“Because you are my project partner.” You hummed like you accepted that explanation, but your eyes lingered on him a second too long, like you were trying to decipher if there was something else underneath it.

“You should order something,” he added after a moment.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically.

Your stomach betrayed you immediately after with an embarrassing grumble. You snapped your head towards him, eyes as wide as saucers. You looked around before slowly sinking into your hoodie so you could disappear inside it. “…That was not me,” you whispered, tightening the strings around your hood. Sunghoon’s lips twitched, amused at your sudden, cute behavior. He abruptly stood up when your stomach made another rumble.

“Where are you going?” You asked, a hint of concern laced in your voice. Your body tensed as you sat up properly.

“Food,” he answered, grabbing his wallet off the table.

“For you?” You raised an eyebrow, your body relaxed at the answer he gave you.

“For you,” he corrected, “We are at a cafe. You should have ordered something before starting your work.”

“That’s not– you don’t need to do that,” you rushed out immediately, already reaching for your bag. “I can just–  I’ll go grab something–”

“You will sit.”

His commanding voice left you stunned, and Sunghoon paused for half a second, as if he himself was surprised by his own tone too. He then adjusted his coat as if nothing had happened. “I will return.”

His weird, formal tone made you chuckle under your breath. You watched his back as he left to order something from the table. He looked so endearing as he leaned in, nose nearly pressing against the glass as he carefully read the description. Huh, maybe his eyes were really that bad. But your attention was more focused on the cashier, who was giggling and blushing as Sunghoon pointed out a few pastries. You pouted, a weird sulking feeling in your chest. The older man seemed to sense it for an odd reason, because he looked around with a confused expression before looking back at the cash register.

When he came back, he put down a white paper box filled to the brim with pastries. There was pain au chocolat, a few different fruit danishes, and a Dubai Chocolate mochi donut. You raised an eyebrow at the last choice, to which he shrugged.

“I heard it is trendy amongst young people nowadays,” he explained, also settling down a cup of refreshing iced tea for you. You looked at him, then at the food, then back at him before a shy smile spread across your lips. A quiet breath of laughter escaped your lips. It was so Sunghoon to act so old.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do this for me,” you softly said, “I’m sorry… thank you, Sunghoon. I’ll pay you back—“

“No.” He firmly shook his head as he sat down.

“No?” You whimpered out, confused. He crossed his arms and laid back in his chair, which was unnatural for him. Usually, you noticed that he had a perfect upright posture all of the time.

“No, do not apologize, do not pay me back. I did not go out of my way for this. I wanted to eat something too.” He gingerly picked up the Dubai Chocolate mochi donut, breaking off a doughy ball and plopping it in his mouth. You stared at him, gauging the taste based on his reaction. His jaw and mouth didn’t move at all, and it seemed to be stuck for some reason. He then tentatively chewed down, his jaw clenching with every bite.

“Is it bad?” You asked cautiously.

“Very much so,” he honestly answered, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down the dessert. You giggled. He watched as you picked up the pain au chocolat and take a bite, the crispy pastry wrinkling under your teeth and producing a satisfying crunch. Your body relaxed slightly, and he felt your pulse even out and smelt your blood sweeten. For some reason, his senses were relieved as they picked up on these cues. You then took a sip of the tea, your shoulder scrunching up in satisfaction as you let out an excited hum.

“This is soo yummy, Sunghoon! What did you order?” You peeked up at him through your lashes. Sunghoon cleared his throat and re-crossed his arms.

“I believe I bought a honey-citron tea. Something along those lines. I heard it is good for your health– at least, that is what the description said.”

Yes, good for your health so that you’ll be primed to be feasted on. A nourished human always tasted better.

“You’re so kind, Sunghoon,” you confessed bashfully, your voice quiet and meek. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his hands relaxing where they were crossed momentarily as he seemed to ingest the word slowly. He bought you tea because you looked pale, bought pastries because your pulse sounded weak, and watched the color slowly return to your face with a starving stomach. He wasn’t sure that was exactly kind of him, but if it made you think of him better, he could just take it. Why not at this point.

“Okay, let us get back to work when you are full,” he spoke up after a while, finally sitting up straight. You nodded, clumsily wiping your hands on a few napkins before reverting your attention back to your laptop. He watched as you rapidly tapped away on your keyboard, filling your shared document with more arguments and evidence. Your heart rapidly pumped, slamming against your ribs like it was trying to escape your body. Sunghoon was confused– your heart worked in such mysterious ways that not even a century-old vampire could decipher it.

By the time the café lights dimmed and your cups sat long empty, hours had somehow slipped away from both of you. It was only 4 PM, but it somehow already felt so late in the day that even Sunghoon would have been tired. He stared at you as you packed, your movements regaining their sluggish feel as you slowly slid your laptop into its pouch within your backpack.

“Do– do you need a ride home, Sunghoon?” You yawned. Sunghoon smiled, feeling a weird affection as your mouth stretched to escape its drowsiness. It was the endearment that you would feel for a pet, in a sort of way.

“It will be alright, my roommate Jaeyun can take me home.” He nodded. He looked down at his phone, only to see…

jaeyun: LOL  jaeyun: Dude I’m in Busan rn ur never gonna guess who I’m with rn jaeyun: IM WITH RIKII the vampire who tried biting u cuz he didnt know u were vampire rmbr Sunghoon: I am waiting to get picked up by you. jaeyun: WAIT SHIT I FORGOT U WERE OUT 😭😭 jaeyun: lmfaoo mb bro Ur better off flying back to the apt man My bad fr

Sunghoon exhaled. Over a century of living, and this was his most trusted friend and emergency contact. “Nevermind. I guess I will walk.”

“Eh? It’s too far, Sunghoon! Let me take you home!” You fussed. Not wanting to expend your energy arguing, he simply agreed. You looked a bit taken aback, surprised that he conceded so easily to you, but you led him to your car anyways.

Your vehicle had a cute omamori hanging off of the rear view window, some cute figurines stuck to the dashboard, receipts crinkled as they were shoved into the cup holders, and a hoodie splayed out in the backseat, little pieces of you tucked into every possible crevice in the car. Within the confines of your vehicle, the air had traces of fresh cotton and linen from your air freshener, but underneath it all was you. Your warm skin, flavored lip balm, fragrant perfume, and even the hint of your scented lotion, but most prominent to his nose was the unmistakable metallic sweetness that only you permeated.

Sunghoon felt like he should roll down a window or something, because he was practically swallowing down the scent of your blood. He stared at you as you backed out of your parking spot, before beginning the drive to your apartment. “Can– Can I roll down a window?” He gulped. You glanced at him before nodding. He practically jammed his finger trying to press down on the window button, letting out a sigh of relief as your scent washed away in the evening wind. He stuck his head out of the window like a wolf, and the thought would have repulsed him if he weren’t so desperate to prevent himself from sucking your blood right now.

If he sucked your blood and you died, you’d crash the car. Then, the police would come, and they would see the two noticeable bite marks caving your neck in. And then he’d look like a weird cannibal vampire wannabe criminal or whatever– too complicated.

“Thank you for the ride. Text me when we should meet up again. I should be free all week apart from my classes.” Sunghoon nearly barreled out of the car. “Goodnight!” You giggled and waved goodbye, watching as his figure disappeared into his apartment building before pulling off yourself.

❛❛LOVE HUNGER AT FIRST SIGHT.❞ ── 1

Another week had passed, and Sunghoon was beginning to realize that befriending was probably not the brightest idea.

The more time he spent around you, the harder it became to ignore the pulse beating beneath your skin. Not to mention, he had been rationing his portions on blood bags to truly savor the moment when he could finally relish in the taste of your iron on his tongue. He should’ve just kept a distance from you– not be around you so much because day by day, it was becoming increasingly difficult to subtly find chances to drain you dry.

Just like any other day, you both were working hard on your project. With it being finished and needing revision, you were, for the first time, slacking. Your head was buried in your crossed arms, which laid upon the wooden table. Your eyes kept blinking slowly, and Sunghoon would’ve been concerned about your blood sugar again if you didn’t smell so sickeningly sweet.

“I’m– I’m gonna take a nap…” You yawned, your eyelids pulling shut, lashes fluttering so delicately and fanning across your cheekbones. “W– wake me up, five mins…” You slurred. Sunghoon watched as you easily slipped into a slumber, your body going lax and mouth falling agape as soft huffs of air left your lips.

Sunghoon’s fingers clenched into fists, his fingernails digging into the wrinkles of his palms, forming a protective case around his calluses. Every inhale felt like a trap. If his stomach was normal, it would’ve been grumbling right now. He hadn’t had a blood pack since yesterday, and that nearly made him throw up from how fucking disgusting it was– a blood pack of pig’s blood diluted with coconut water? Give him a break. 

Your blood pressure was decreasing, dipping down. He could feel the way your circulation became sluggish and sense the lowered levels of oxygen. That means it wouldn’t pump like a water fountain, shooting out in satisfying geysers if he dug his fangs into you. That means it’ll be a slow drink. Wouldn’t that be more satisfying? Slowly draining out your blood as it filled his mouth with metal, filling his stomach milliliter by milliliter. It’ll be a bit watered down, but it’s okay– because you were so vulnerable and delicate now, an easy target for his teeth to finally sink in–

Sunghoon didn’t realize how close he was to you until he could breathe in and have your perfume practically get swallowed with every inhale. He opened his mouth, and his canines extended into sharp points, the tips of them gleaming in the bright light. So close so close so close just a little more and i’ll be so full yes yes yes

“Sunghoon?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and your mouth was so close to his. He awkwardly clamped his lips together shut, clearing his throat. His fangs instantly retracted as soon as you woke up, hiding in his gumline. You blinked, vision clearing and breath hitching at your sudden proximity. You then felt the presence of his big hand resting on the top rail of your wooden chair.

“Sunghoon?” You whispered again. “Has it been five minutes already?” You murmured. He nodded, trying his best to slowly back away and give you space. Shit– what was he thinking? He wasn’t a feral animal, like those werewolves who went crazy at a mere atom of pheromones lingering in the air. But he was surely acting like one– driven by the insane hunger that came with being what he was, a blood-sucking ravager that only cared about the smell of metal and proteins.

“Mhm.” He hummed lowly in response, his voice barely a whisper too. You blinked, still staring up at him. Silence loomed over the both of you for a moment before you spoke up, catching the vampire off-guard.

“Sunghoon… do– do you like me…?” You softly asked, your rationale still clouded by the short sleep your brain was phased into, not sifting the sudden question through the humiliation-check filter in your mind. You sounded uncertain, but Sunghoon had to give you a bit of credit– not even the bravest person he knew some 60 years ago would have the guts to ask this bold question.

“You should not say things like that when you’re half-asleep,” he replied, voice still muted. Your bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

“…Why?” you asked, eyes blinking lightly as if you were somehow amused at his response. His slight reprimand should’ve been the end of it, but of course you had to ask. You always pried into what he was thinking. “…Is it bad if you do?” you murmured, trying to solve the case. You shifted in your chair just a little, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve.  “I mean…” You added after a pause, voice still soft and gentle. “It’s not like I’d be weird about it.”

And for the first time in his 120+ years of living, he was stunned, speechless. Sure, he’s received confessions before, but this was surprisingly the first time the young vampire had been in a situation like this, where he was being coaxed into confessing.

“Where is this coming from?” He tried to change the subject. You ignored him and smiled.

“Do you, Sunghoon?” You finally sat up, revealing a mark on your cheek from your good slumber. You stretched your arms wide, your back arching to relieve your body from the tension. You leaned forward just a little, resting your cheek against your hand, and Sunghoon realized for the first time that you might be a bit more coy than he thought.

“Answer my question first.” He crossed his arms stubbornly. You giggled.

“Well, you always listen to me really well and give me thoughtful advice— and I know that’s bare minimum, but you also go out of your way to take care of me. When we walk outside, you always stubbornly make sure I’m on the inner part of the sidewalk. And you always stare at me, Sunghoon. Like— you look at me so much that I always think I have something on my face. But then I check my phone camera and I don't.” You kept pricking up a finger, counting down every “sign” that you believed indicated his growing affection from you.

“You always call me or text me, too. And then you always remember weird things about me. You always notice when something’s wrong, too,” you continued, looking up as if trying to pull more examples from your brain. “Like when I’m tired, or sad, or stressed, and then you always know what to do after to make me feel better.”

By the time you were finished rambling, you had counted past ten fingers. Sunghoon didn’t even realize there were enough instances to count an entire hand to show that he liked you, much less more than two hands. You smiled awkwardly as you outstretched all ten fingers with open palms to him, as if showing off how much he potentially liked you. 

“It’s either you like me, or maybe I’m reading into it too much… I dunno…” Your shyness came back tenfold, making your arteries pump ferociously and your cheeks warm with enough heat to set something ablaze. Sunghoon stared at the wrinkles in your hands, each running a river through the lighter skin.

Could a vampire really like someone? Especially someone that he had once calculated the blood volume of? Roughly 4.5 liters. Nine pints. That was approximately how much blood sat inside your body right now, circulating beneath your skin in endless loops. He knew because vampires were taught these things, useful things.

Sunghoon remembered the first time he met you, he wasn’t exactly wondering what your favorite color was. He was wondering how much blood loss your body could tolerate before passing out. The first time you smiled at him, he did not think about your lips. He thought about how inflamed they were with the sensitive multitude of blood vessels beneath the skin. 

Now he knew useless things, like your daily habits that you barely noticed yourself, the way that your entire face and neck would warm up with blood rushing to it, not just your cheeks. He knew what you wanted to pursue after college, the life that you wanted to live, and the stupid shit that you put on your bucket list. None of these things helped him hunt or feed like a vampire should. Does that mean Sunghoon liked you how a human would?

“I do. I like you.” He breathed out before he could give it a second thought. You smiled, your heart pumping so wildly that even he was a bit afraid it might burst through your chest. He finally understood why your heartbeat was so erratic around him. Because you liked him too, right?

You ducked your head shyly, smiling into your sleeves. “Okay,” you mumbled softly. “I like you too, Sunghoon.” You blinked slowly. “Should we go on a date after this?” You said, scratching your nape nervously. “I’ve never liked anyone before– it’s new to me…”

“Me too,” Sunghoon confessed, “It is also my first time being in… uhm…” For the first time, Sunghoon was at a loss for words. “You know…” He added, just to be safe. You giggled, shyly outstretching your hand, reaching for his cold one. You were surprised at how frigid his skin was, feeling like a porcelain piece.

“Your hands are so cold…” You murmured, wrapping his large hands into your smaller ones, permeating your body heat to transfer to his. “Sorry,” you mumbled suddenly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Sunghoon stared at your fingers hooked between his. Neither did he. He had lived through conflicts, technological revolutions, and economic booms, yet somehow, he had never experienced such an intimate and tender moment with a girl. “I do not know either,” he admitted quietly. You smiled and giggled.

“That’s okay, Sunghoon. We can figure it out together, right?” You looked at him hopefully. He nodded. Being a vampire was tedious enough already, and now, Sunghoon had to navigate dating the very girl he intended to turn into a blood bag.

Being your boyfriend might kill him before his hunger would.

❛❛MOUTHS WERE MADE FOR MORE THAN BITING❞ ── 2

The next week, you and Sunghoon scored a 92 on the paper.

Heeseung returned the paper back with only minor comments, praising the both of you guys for your in-depth argument despite how simple the topic was. You both took it gracefully, and ended the Friday off with a dinner date.

You and Sunghoon chose to continue to get to know each other more. Although it didn’t exactly feel like it for both of you, with how close you had both gotten, you had basically known each other for only a month and had already developed feelings.

“It just– I dunno. It doesn’t feel fast to me, but I feel awkward knowing that we’ve known each other for like two weeks, and we already confessed, and then the next step is dating, right? But like– I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right…” You had candidly revealed your feelings to Sunghoon one night as you sat in your car, drinking milkshakes as a reward after another day of hard work on your paper. He really didn’t understand. After all, after 120+ years of living, time had become such a feeble thing anyway. Whether it was two weeks, three, or even a year, he had all the time in the world to stick a label when you wanted it. (If you even lasted a year before he ate you, that is.)

“That is okay. We can go at your pace. I am not sure how to date either.” Sunghoon’s tongue scooped up the Java Chip milkshake, curling it into his taste buds. It tasted fucking disgusting, but you didn’t need to know that, especially since you looked so content sipping on your strawberry shake.

“That’s okay! We’re just figuring it out, right?” You chirped, your voice brimming with anticipation. He nodded, an amused smile spreading across his lips.

“I guess so.” Moreso, he’s figuring out when he should suck your blood. (But for some reason, the sentiment didn't feel sincere to him anymore.)

You started figuring it out where things were familiar. Study sessions at different cafes you wanted to try, spending countless nights in the library focusing on your respective work. These were safe places that you knew you couldn’t mess up, places that you and Sunghoon knew how to navigate each other in. You sat close to Sunghoon, constantly peeking at his laptop when he worked. He always let you into his bubble, keeping an arm available for you to tug on or hold his hand with.

And then, the familiar routines began to stretch out of your comfort zone. Instead of going to the library, you decided to do dinner. (Well, it was more of Sunghoon playing with his food while you kept gushing about the amazing cuisine.) And then these dinners turned into late-night walks where you both rumbled on about more meaningless things, sometimes meaningful as you interlocked hands and swung them on a pendulum. And then these walks turned into countless hours spent sitting in your car, burning gas because neither of you wanted the night to end.

You bridged the gap between physical touch, too, getting comfortable enough to tug on his sleeve whenever you wanted his attention or allowing him to place a firm hand on your back when navigating crowded areas. Sunghoon realized that dating a human was– it was pretty easy, actually. He didn’t understand why other humans kept complaining about their relationships.

All Sunghoon had to do was be there for you, and it was as easy as pie. He simply listened when you needed to vent, hugged you tightly when you needed to cry, and carried snacks in his bag when he sensed your glycemic index was low. And sometimes, he even used his vampiric perks, following you in a swarm of bats to ensure you got home safely and being accessible even at the worst hours of the night because he never slept.

And before both of you knew it, time had passed so quickly that three months had passed, putting you both into the Spring semester with a new label on your relationship tacked on.

Sunghoon learned way more things in those three months. Not as a person or someone who liked him, not even as a blood bag, but as a girlfriend. He discovered that your love language was words of affirmation, learned that you didn’t really make decisions until you had at least three opinions (with him being one of those three), and that even after being with him for quite a while now, your cardiovascular system never faltered in activity, only heightened.

Yet oddly enough, there was one thing that you and Sunghoon hadn’t breached.

It was his apartment.

He was always over at yours, an extra toothbrush in your bathroom, and his clothes filling your closet to the brim. Every time you wanted to have a baking date, movie night, or just wanted to chill together privately, you guys always ended up at your place. Never his.

Looking back, Sunghoon realized he had become strangely talented at redirecting you.

He’d always suggest to go to yours because you had more baking supplies, your television was bigger, and your roommate, Chowon, was never home. And on the off-chance that your roommate finally did come home, Sunghoon would insist that Jake was so loud that it’d be like having a third-wheel hovering over the both of you the entire time.

Because unlike your apartment, which smelled like vanilla candles, air freshener, and room spray, his smelled like blood. Literally. His refrigerator was currently stuffed with labeled blood bags. The pantry contained emergency freeze-dried containers of blood. It’s a miracle how the iron smell hadn’t suffused to his neighbors. Sunghoon’s bathroom was stocked to the brim with enough sunscreen to slather on a blue whale and still have extra bottles for him.

Yeah, if you went to his apartment, then he’d have to either hide half of his existence, trust you with it, or probably kill you.

As much as the last option was what Sunghoon was anticipating, none of them were ideal..

Which was exactly why, when your text popped up later that evening, his undead heart felt like it dropped to his ass. 

Y/N (girlfriend): chowon brought someone over and i think they’re… having sex Y/N (girlfriend):  :( Y/N (girlfriend): can i come to yours?

He left the text on read shamelessly, throwing his phone on the couch and mechanically going to knock on Jake’s door. “Jaeyun. My girlfriend wants to come over. Code Red,” he bluntly said, trying to hide the panic that was building up.

Jake swung the door open, racing past Sunghoon in a blurred flash, compiling all of the blood bags in the fridge into his empty arms. “What the hell are you standing around for? Go hide the ones in the pantry!” Jake shrieked, scrambling back to his own room to hide the refrigerated packs in the his mini-fridge. Sunghoon ripped open the tall, white pantry doors and began stuffing emergency blood packets into his puffer jackets winter boots in the spare coat closet and– and a rice container that… was purely there just for show, honestly.

“Jaeyun, when did we get this rice container? And why?”

“Oh, it was a gift from Jay…” Jake paused. Sunghoon stared at the Australian vampire, who had punctured a blood bag with a straw and was sucking on the dark red liquid. When the two were absolutely sure that there would be no way that you would even by chance stumble upon a blood pack, Sunghoon grabbed his phone from the couch.

Y/N (girlfriend): hoon? Y/N (girlfriend): helloo? Y/N (girlfriend): if u dont want me to come over thats ok :(  hoon (boyfieee): Sorry. I am cleaning to make the place look presentable for You. hoon (boyfieee): come Now. If you are able. Y/N (girlfriend): YAYY! Y/N (girlfriend): can i stay the night hoonie? Y/N (girlfriend): i jus dont want to have the awkward uhhh… yk… morning after convo with the random guy…

His eyes slowly lifted from his phone to Jake, who was still holding a punctured blood bag like a juice pouch. “She wants to stay the night,” Sunghoon said blankly. Jake nearly choked on the blood he was drinking.

“Your first sleepover is happening before she’s seen our apartment?” Jake hissed. “Dude, you still have your stupid UV sleeves hanging in the bathroom.” Sunghoon looked toward the hallway, where his bathroom was, and where his protective UV sleeves were dangling over the shower curtain rod. “And we don’t even sleep– what are you gonna do? Just lay there for like eight hours?”

He imagined you curled up in his bed, filling the empty space of the full-sized mattress. Your steady heartbeat would thud thud thud right up against his chest, peaceful and content. Your scent would be trapped in his enclosed space with nowhere to escape but into his nostrils. He then imagined the look of horror on your face if you opened his spare coat closet to see freeze-dried packets of blood stuffed in all his clothes, and too many thoughts about biting you as you slept over ransacked any rationale. He ignored Jake’s rhetorical question and shook his head before looking back at his phone.

hoonie (boyfieee): Yes. You can stay. hoonie (boyfieee): Bring toothbrush. I believe I have everything elese you may need. hoonie (boyfieee): else*

This was either the worst idea he’s ever had or a great milestone in your relationship.

You arrived 15 minutes later, your car keys dangling from your fingers and an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. Jake was sitting on the couch, watching television when Sunghoon opened the door for you. “Hi Hoon! Hi Jake.” You nodded your head towards the Australian boy.

“Hey!” Jake greeted back with a tense smile, his cheeks puffing up as he sunk deeper into the couch. You waved your hand again awkwardly before directing your focus back to Sunghoon.

“Where– uhm, can I put my stuff, Hoon?” You shyly asked. Sunghoon led you to his bedroom down the hall. It was fairly simple and clean, with black and white bedsheets, his full-sized bed tucked in the corner, and a black wooden desk perched up against his wall to face away from his window. He had so many candles lit, gothic white ones trailing wax down a candelabra. The room smelled just like Sunghoon, clean with base notes of musk and sandalwood. You spun around, taking in his room as you set your overnight bag on the floor.

“Your room is so…”

Sunghoon stiffened. Was it too weird? Too gothic? Too antique? Too vampire-coded? Damn it, he knew he should’ve gotten rid of that stupid iron candle holder– didn’t young people these days have simple glass holders?

“It’s so clean and nice, Hoon! It’s suits you so wel!” You gushed with a smile so bright that it rivaled the flickering flames of his lit candles. His tense shoulders dropped as he let out a small breath of relief.

“Thank you.” He nodded. Your eyes wandered everywhere with innocent curiosity. His dresser had a few, black decorations on it. His clothes were all neatly tucked away. His nightstand had a lamp on it, some hand-cream, and a box of tissues. The blackout curtains were drawn tightly over the windows despite it barely being evening.

“Hoon, you should get more Vitamin D.” You pouted. “I feel like you’re always covered up, too.”

“I take supplements,” he replied hastily. You giggled.

“One day I’m gonna force you outside. Maybe if we’re ever in the mood for it, we could take a loooong hike and watch the sunrise!” Sunghoon only hummed in response. That honestly sounded fucking awful, but he’ll let you be optimistic about your future dates.

You wandered toward his bookshelf next, fingers ghosting over the spines. His shelf was crammed with thick, old books jammed next to each other, pressing up against the sides of the wooden storage. You skimmed your fingertips over one particularly thick book, your eyebrows furrowing together as you read the title. 

“Hoon,” you carefully pulled out one hardcover. “Why do you own an Economics 101 book from the 1950’s?” You smiled.

“I like reading about the economy back then, so I do not make any poor financial decisions,” he answered perfectly. Damn, he was good at this.

“Can I pull a book out?” You asked with sparkling eyes. He nodded. You pushed a book towards you, your fingertip digging into the pages behind the spine. You opened it, smiling. “Wow, this is so old too!” You scanned the back of the cover, looking confused. “This is from a library– wow, so cool. It’s like an artifact!”

His eyes bulged out of his head. He knew what book you were looking at. He reached out to grab it from you when your finger traced the remnants of faded ink. “Park Sunghoon checked this book out in 1939?” You whispered. He winced, his outstretched hand curling into a defeated fist. “That’s so cool! You guys had the same name!” Damn, he knew he should’ve returned that library book 87 years ago.

You put the book back, sliding it in perfectly between two other thick books. Sunghoon watched you carefully, his tongue darting from between his lips to nervously lick at them. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a second before your shoulders sagged.

“Sorry,” you mumbled suddenly.

“For what?” He was confused.

“I feel like– I dunno– awkward, like I’m intruding or ruining the mood...” You rubbed your sleeves together nervously. “The roommate thing just stressed me out, and I feel like I asked you so last minute, and– and– I dunno, I feel like I pressured you.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly. “You did not pressure me into anything, Y/N,” he said in that soothing, low voice of him. You looked up at him with hopeful and relieved eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded once. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

Your heartbeat picked up as it usually did when he said anything reassuring to you. You sat down on the edge of his bed, albeit a bit cautious and nervous. “Can we just do nothing tonight?”

Sunghoon leaned against his desk. “Just nothing?”

“Yes, absolutely nothing!”  You smiled up at him. He smiled and sat to the right of you, letting you rest your body against his. Your head immediately tucked into his shoulder, hands playing with his right hand while his left arm slung around your shoulders. Your pulse was drumming against your soft slowly, but not as quick as it usually was. It felt relaxed, and Sunghoon came to the conclusion that you were comfortable here, in his space.

Then his eyes drifted lower without meaning to. Your neck peeked out from the collar of your hoodie when you tilted your head back slightly. Warn, thin skin that he could easily pierce into. He could practically trace the route your blood traveled beneath it. He licked his lips again, his ears drowning in the sound of your blood moving in your circulatory system. It only got louder and louder.

Four months. It had been four months since he’s met you, and two since you’ve been dating, yet it’s been three months of dates, hand-holding, and falling asleep on his shoulder. Three months of carrying snacks for you and listening to your problems and memorizing your preferred cafe order that wasn’t Americano.

It made him so hungry, so fucking hungry to be next to you so long– to smell the intoxicating and metallic aroma of your blood.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, and you must’ve heard the sound, because you perked up immediately, facing him as you looked up. “You okay?” you asked quietly, “Hungry? Should we order takeout?” His eyes shifted back to yours. You were so close. You had shifted even closer to him him without him noticing. Your knees thighs were pressing up against each other, and your scent was wrapping around him immediately, washing out the clean smell of his lit candles.

“I am not hungry,” he answered, lying through his teeth.

Because right now, all he wanted to do was eat. His eyes fluttered down to your lips, so soft and red, skin almost bursting with a vermillion hue. The skin was so thin, and if he looked close enough, he could see the wrinkles and the parts where they peeled. Your blood vessels were packed so closely together, gathering enough warmth to set him ablaze. 

“We can just stay here– just the two of us,” he murmured, voice dipping into a lower octave and coating itself in a seductive honey. For a moment, a weird thought pushed itself into his mind. Do lips taste different from skin? How would your blood gush from your mouth? Would it flow down in a steady stream, or burst out into tiny jets? You were saying something, your pretty lips opening and closing to project words, but Sunghoon was too distracted with seeing rather than hearing.

Without realizing, he leaned in closer, the proximity between you decreasing. He could smell your tinted lip balm swiped across your lips, pathetically trying to mask the iron scent underneath your skin. Your breath hitched as he began bridging the gap between your faces. Useless thoughts began to surface in his mind.

One bite. Just one. Right there.

His eyes dropped to your mouth again. Your hand abruptly reached up and grabbed his shirt, crumpled up at his stomach. “Hoon,” you whispered softly, your breathy tone almost making your voice sound like a whimper. He gently let go of your hand, bringing it up to gently caress your cheek. Your pulse began drumming so hard against your skin that he was afraid it was burst through and break, and he honestly didn’t mind the sound of that.

“Can I?” he asked, a murmur deep in his throat. You swallowed, gulping down the tension as you nodded. You nodded, not wanting your voice to betray the thick want clouding your mind. He leaned in slowly, fangs instinctively protracting as hunger took over his brain, but as soon as he pressed his cold lips to yours, his canines were flat like they usually were. His mind blanked. He pulled away, leaving you with only a peck as your first kiss.

When he properly looked at your face, your mouth was parted, letting out soft and content breaths. “Hoonie– kiss– please, kiss me again.” You whispered. You didn’t have to ask him twice. He pressed his lips to yours again, firmer this time, charged with a desire to have your breath mingling with his. He understood now why Jake bragged about kissing humans so much– it was addicting. He didn’t even remember why he wanted your mouth on his anymore, all he wanted was to kiss you breathless.

Forget about feeding from you, couldn’t he just devour you like this?

(The next morning, when you went to cook breakfast, you had asked Jake who had just woken up why his fridge was literally empty. And why all of the windows were open, but the curtains were all drawn shut. And why there were enough candles lit everywhere to cause a fire hazard. You also had somehow stumbled upon Sunghoon’s limitless sunscreen stock in his bathroom. The Australian vampire merely shrugged and bolted back to his room.)

❛❛LEAVE YOUR MARK ON MY NECK THAT IT'S YOURS.❞ ── 3

After your first kiss, Jake wouldn’t let Sunghoon live it down for weeks.

Not that Sunghoon had cared, he had better things to think about. Like now, instead of greeting him with your usual shy wave, you’d grab his collar and pull him down for a bashful peck to greet him instead. Or how you looked after giving said-peck, eyes half-lidded and cheeks warm, like you wanted one more but were too shy to ask. And he learned that he might be addicted to kisses now, because all he could think about when you were both apart was how much he wish you were together.

Being a vampire was tedious, but at least it was simple in theory. All he had to think about was drinking blood, biting people, staying away from garlic, and keeping out of the sun. But now, there was a new complication laying down on all of his vampiric responsibilities, effectively crushing all of them as priorities. And that obviously was you.

You were supposed to be one of his simple vampire duties– the biting people and drinking blood part. But you were slowly beginning to be phased out of that aspect of his duties. You were becoming a new duty of your own, in fact, something that Jake liked to call “boyfriend duty.”

“Boyfriend duty?” Sunghoon had repeated slowly. Jake nodded, leaning back in their couch, sipping on a Blood Mary cocktail despite it being 11 AM on a Wednesday. (Jake swore up and down that he had invented the cocktail in the 1920s. Sunghoon honestly believed him.)

“Yeah. Instead of just suckin’ blood, you also suck face.” Jake snickered, amused at his own joke. “Seems like you got a lot on your plate now, Mr. Bloodsucker.”

Sunghoon had sent the Australian a glare, narrowing his eyes as he stood up. None of what the former man had learned firsthand being with you had been in his original “Vampire 101” lessons. There was no precedent in befriending a girl, becoming said-girl’s boyfriend, and reforming the thoughts of food to a person he cared for. 

He was still a vampire. The most vampiric vampire ever. He still drank blood from the diminishing stock in his fridge (blame Jake for his unusual recent obsession with bloody cocktails.) He still shoved his hand in the freeze-dried blood bags when he wanted to switch up his meal texture. And he even developed a weird habit of hissing at garlic. (He had no idea where that came from, but that’s for another time.) 

But when you were around, he didn’t just feel like just a vampire anymore. He felt, oddly enough, like a human again. Even though he technically died when he was 21 years old over a century ago with bite marks piercing his neck, he has never felt more alive than when you shyly pressed your lips to his with a soft whisper of his name. Sunghoon didn’t want to breach into this territory of thinking, but he was afraid that maybeeee he didn’t want to bite you that badly anymore. But as soon as he heard your heartbeat, his stomach would say differently. He was, to put it shortly, confused.

“Sunghoon, do you think I should add more of the spice packet?”

He looked at the ramen, which was a baby pink color. He snorted. “Y/N, you must have added about three drops of the spice packet.” He gently took the red packet from your hands to glide his chopsticks on either side of it, effectively spilling the entire sauce inside. You gulped nervously.

“Hoon, I dunno if I can handle all that…” You said anxiously. Sunghoon shrugged and began to vigorously stir the ramen with his chopsticks.

“If you cannot eat this, then I will just make you another one.”

You both were in your apartment, making dinner for your movie night. You wanted to order takeout, but the delivery fees almost cost as much as your utility bills, so you both opted for some ramyeon in your pantry. Cooking together sounded more fun anyways. You hovered over Sunghoon, watching as he stirred the pot with a weird precision. His chopsticks were upright, and he was going around the walls in perfect circles.

“Hoon, it looks like you’ve never cooked ramyeon before.” You giggled. Sunghoon shrugged.

“It is mostly Jaeyun who cooks ramyeon. He says he is better at it,” Sunghoon replied. You nodded with an “ahhh…”, watching as your boyfriend worked the pot.

“You look so handsome right now, Hoon. Like a househusband.” You smiled, leaning against the counter. He breathed a laugh out of his nose, incredulous at your sudden comment. His brows were slightly furrowed, shoulders squared and upright as his chopsticks moved with an unnecessary level of concentration for instant noodles.

The kitchen light cast warm tones across his face, softening his sharp features. It still amazed you sometimes– how someone who looked so intimidating in class months ago now stood in your kitchen making ramyeon while wearing a hoodie that you gave him for your one-monthiversary.

“Hoonie, can I tell you something?” You suddenly spoke up. He nodded. “Honestly, when I first saw you in class, I thought you were really cute. I’m really grateful we got to be project partners.”

The vampire was a bit stunned at your confession. He didn’t realize you perceived him before you guys became partners. “You thought I was cute?” he repeated slowly, the question mark hanging off the end of the sentence. You looked away shyly, picking at the sleeve hanging over your hands.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Scary-cute though.” You chuckled. “It’s ‘cause you always stared at me, Hoon. I swear you did– tell me you did or else I’ll die from embarrassment.”

Your boyfriend only responded with a simple nod of his head. Well, the only reason why he stared so much was because he was always so fuckin’ hungry. Not because he was your secret admirer or anything– but he supposed he didn’t really have to say all that for the sake of preserving your feelings. “I was, Y/N,” he affirmed your suspicions. “You are strangely more perceptive than I had initially thought.”

“Heh, what can I say?” You boasted, looking smug. Sunghoon poured the ramyeon into two separate bowls. “But why were you staring at me so much?” You helped him set one of the bowls on the coffee table, settling down on the couch right in front of the television.

“Because you intrigued me,” he explained, not entirely lying. Your blood intrigued me. You seemed really satisfied with the answer, your sweatpant-clad legs jumping up and down to show how giddy his response made you. You picked up the remote, flicking through the endless options of dramas to watch. Sunghoon really didn’t like dramas at first. He had explained to you that he hated them, saying that they were unrealistic, too cheesy, and had too many logical inaccuracies.

You scrolled through title after title while sitting cross-legged on the couch, legs buried under the fluffy blanket, entirely concentrated on finding something “good enough” to please him. “Oh, how about this? It’s supposed to be cheesy! It’s called EN-DRAMA!” You suggested. Sunghoon read the description, and grew even more perplexed. But he simply shrugged and let you put on whatever you wanted.

You both began watching the drama, slurping down your ramyeon. You were able to tolerate the spice enough to finish your bowl, but it didn’t stop you from hissing. Sunghoon snickered under his breath at the sounds. You sounded like a cute little vampire, and your noises almost made him instinctively let out a hiss of his own. He left his bowl steaming on the coffee table, pulling you into his side, keeping your shoulders pressed together. He strew the blanket over his own lap, resting his head on yours.

For some reason, you were really immersed in the drama, letting out soft gasps as the seven boys in the scene tried to piece together who really confessed. You leaned in closer, your warm palm bracing your body on Sunghoon’s thigh. The vampire sucked in a breath as your body heat radiated through the blanket to his skin. With how poor your posture was in that position, your neck and back slouched, Sunghoon had a clear view of your neck. You were wearing a shirt with the collar cut, pulled down to reveal the expanse of your shoulder and neck. He gulped.

He watched as your left hand drew to your right shoulder, your fingernails scraping against the skin, leaving red marks to surface. “Are you itchy?” he asked quietly, eyes following the path your fingers carved across your skin.

“Hm?” You absentmindedly scratched again. “Oh. I think it’s cuz’ some threads are loose.” You tugged the neckline lower to adjust it. Sunghoon wished you hadn’t done that. More skin peeked through, exposing your upper arm. He could feel the crimson liquid pooling underneath to where you had scratched.

He was starving, and he didn’t even realize it until your precious skin was exposed to his leering eyes. He licked his lips, instinctively leaning forward, his fanged mouth drawn to warm epidermis. “Hoon?” You suddenly looked at him. When you did, you could feel his breath fan across your lips. You instantly covered your mouth.

“Does my breath smell?” Sunghoon pulled away, almost offended. You shook your head vigorously.

“Mine probably does, Hoon! What’re you doing, trying to kiss me after I ate this spicy ass ramen?” You whined. He chuckled at your cute reaction, his palm cupping over your fingers, gently prying it away from your mouth.

“Do you think I care about ramyeon breath?” he asked quietly. Not at all. What he cared about was the plump, swollen, and sheen with the reddish-hue of the broth skin of your lips. “I want to kiss you, even if you have ramyeon breath. Can I kiss you, Y/N? I want to kiss you so bad.”

You nodded eagerly to his plea, feeling a heat curl up in your lower tummy at how calm yet desperate he sounded. He placed a soft kiss to your knuckles, before cupping your cheek and leaning in to press soft pecks to your mouth. You reciprocated, your breathing turning ragged as he kept capturing your mouth with no time to catch up. With every soft kiss, he hesitated, as if thinking whether or not to kiss you again– yet every time, he conceded, meeting your lips with his as if he couldn’t convince himself to stop in the split second he pulled away.

His hand slid from your cheek to the side of your neck, fingers wrapping around the back of it, pulling you in closer. Warm. Your skin was always so warm. You pulled away to properly catch your breath, fingers twisted in the material of his hoodie. “You’re always so cold…” You whispered. “Hoonie, should– should I warm you up?” You shyly asked. He nodded, eyes stared shamelessly down at your lips as he licked his own, tasting the disgusting flavor of the spicy ramyeon. His hands moved to your shoulders awkwardly, patting them firmly as if he were congratulating you for something. You laughed, endeared by his cute action.

“Sunghoon, you can touch me… down here…” You gently held his hands, dragging them to your waist. “Is– is this, okay?” Your voice was barely audible to his ears. Sunghoon nodded.

“Yes–” he gulped, “is– is this okay for you, too?” He murmured. You nodded with a nervous giggle. The position was, admittedly a bit awkward, with his torso contorted to face you as he continued to sit and his hands clumsily placed on your waist. Your body was also angled weirdly into the couch cushions, the blanket crumpled up in your lap. 

“Are you comfortable like this?” you asked, soft chuckles spilling your lips from how jittery you were. He looked around, then looked down at your bodies, distantly touching each other. He wasn’t exactly content like this.

“Not really,” he honestly confessed. You adjusted yourself on the couch, your knees bumping up against each other and a muttered apology coming from your mouth. Sunghoon’s lips curled into a confused and intrigued frown as he watched you shuffle, your leg throwing its knee over his thighs. He froze as he realized what you were doing. You had either leg settled on both sides of his own before you gently lowered your weight onto him.

“Is– is this fine too, Hoon?” You mumbled. Your hands instinctively grabbed his shoulders for balance while his own reflexively tightened around your waist to steady you. He nodded eagerly. Your warmth was entirely surrounding him now, and your face was inches away from him once more.

“Hi.” You breathed out, your body trembling from nerves.

“Hello,” he greeted back, his frown flipping into a soft smile, so utterly endeared by how bold yet nervous you were. “Do you feel awkward, Y/N?”

“A little, Hoonie. Am I doing too much?” You bit your lip. As your teeth indented the thin skin, blood drew to where it was pressing, reddening your soft mouth even more.

“Not enough, Y/N,” he responded, surging forward to kiss you again. Sunghoon thought for a moment that, instead of those stupid blood bags, one of these days he could live off of these warm lips, packed with the blossoms of blood vessels that narrowed as his cold lips pressed against them. You kissed back, retiring the silly cute pecks that you did. Sunghoon devoured your mouth, trying his hardest to prevent his fangs from protracting.

He found out a bit funny how much effort he was exerting not to stick out his fangs, considering months ago, he would’ve taken the first chance to sink them into your mouth. But now, all he was focused on was eating you alive in a completely different way— memorizing the shape of your smile between kisses, the tiny breaths you let out when he pulled you closer, and the warmth that kept permeating to his cold skin as you instinctively leaned closer into his body.

His hands tightened at your waist, settling more confidently as his muscular arms snaked around them. The angle was, admittedly still a bit uncomfortable. His hips were beginning to hurt, and your knees kept bumping against the couch cushion, but neither of you bothered to readjust, too caught up in each other’s lips. He pulled away, pupils dilated and entranced on the way your mouth was looking now. They were swollen, slick with the amount of spit you were swapping. They were so pretty looking, almost beguiling him into just fucking swallowing them until the both of you couldn’t breathe anymore. But you were still letting out cute pants, so instead, he sufficed with pressing his mouth to your cheek, before leaning towards your jaw. You squirmed around, bringing your shoulders to the side of his face as the ticklish sensation overwhelmed your instincts.

“Hoon, that tickles…” You whined. He let out a breathy laugh, his kisses trailing down to his neck. As if mocking him, he felt the beats under your jaw drum faster, beckoning him to come near. He licked his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse point. He couldn’t stop– his mouth kept attacking that one specific area, pressing so many kisses to it that you thought he was about to imprint the shape of his lips onto that piece of skin.

His fangs were protracting– he could feel the ache in his gumline signaling to him that his teeth were sharpening. But he didn’t want to bite you anymore. He was sure of it with the way anxiety pricked his nerves with the thought of actually draining you dry to the point where you were cold and sickly.

So instead, his cold lips came together, suckling on your pulse point. You let out a gasp, but the vampire could barely register it. He was sucking on your skin, and for a moment, his irises flashed red. It felt like sucking your blood, without the satisfying flavor of the metal on his tongue. But with the way he was devouring your skin was close– so close so close it almost drew him back to his vampiric instincts of drawing blood. And in a way, he was. He could feel how, under his mouth and below your skin, how your blood vessels crackled and exploded, releasing the tiniest amount of blood to the surface.

He pulled away when you nudged his head gently, only to see a bright purple mark adorning your neck. He looked nervous when you finally made eye-contact. Did he hurt you? Did you not want it anymore? Did he go too far? But all of his apprehensions were washed away as the tide brought in a wide smile. “Hoon… It– it feels really, good, more?”

Sunghoon let out a sigh of relief. “More?” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You nodded. His lips curled into a sweet smile. “Okay– but tell me if you want to stop.”

And by the time you told him to stop, your neck was a canvas painted with his love bites, a beautiful artwork of his growing adoration for you.

Days later, Sunghoon and Jake were sitting at the island of their apartment kitchen. 

“You know, vampires can’t get hickeys.”

Jake was lapping at a bloodsicle, the frozen hemoglobin staining the Australian vampire’s lips and teeth. “Really?” Sunghoon asked, surprised.

“Yeah, we don’t have blood, genius,” Jake retorted, “Dude, I’m a genius. This popsicle is so damn good. I need to start patenting my recipes or else some other dickhead vampire is gonna claim my shit again.” Jake let out a satisfied moan at the taste of his ice bar.

“Well, is there a next step to our relationship that I must take, Jaeyun?” Sunghoon asked, looking down at his notebook. These days, Sunghoon had been trying to take lessons on relationships. He supposed this was good for stimulating his brain– learning something new and unfamiliar, breaching a territory he was sure that no other vampire had. It had been a while since the hickey incident, and now he was opening up to Jake, wanting to explore more in the vast unknownness of dating.

“Sex, duh.”

“Sex?” Sunghoon looked surprised. “Like– mating?”

“Yeah, sex, man. Y’know? Fuckin’, copulating, making love– that sort of stuff.” Jake bit off a chunk of the popsicle. “But you know, sex isn’t just about reproduction, right? You’ve been alive for like, 120 years already man. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

Sunghoon would’ve blushed if he had blood. Jake’s mouth fell agape. “No way.”

“Well, I was busy with other things, Jaeyun. Like not burning alive and all of that,” Sunghoon grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Jake sighed, pointing his half-eaten bloodsicle at the slightly-younger man.

“Well, take notes, Sunghoon. Sex isn’t just about mating or feeling good. It’s also about intimacy, trust, and communication. This is a major step for relationships, you know?”

“So, I ask Y/N if she wants to do sex?” Sunghoon asked. Jake seemed thoughtful for a moment before he bit off another chunk of his bloody ice bar.

“Yes– you should breach the thought, but don’t force the topic. Just ask her if she’s ready– well. Okay, hold on.” Jake seemed to be gathering all of his thoughts to formulate a concise explanation and plan for Sunghoon, which the man was patient to receive. “Okay so– first, you guys are like– you guys gotta get in the mood, right? Let’s say you guys are kissing and making out and whatnot. You gotta ask how she feels, ya know? Check in and read the mood, then ask really carefully.” Jake waved his frozen treat around dramatically. “And if she says no, then cool. You just kiss, cuddle, do whatever you two lovebirds usually do.”

Sunghoon wrote down this advice ferociously, nodding his head to everything that Jake said. Everything sounded like common sense– just make sure that you’re comfortable and you both do things you want to do. “Oh, and another thing— don’t think of your relationship as like– having checkpoints. It’s not like, you kiss, then make out, then have sex, you know. I mean, it is lowkey like that for you guys, but don’t dwell on it too much. Relationships don’t have a linear timeline.” Jake expressed. Sunghoon nodded once more.

“Thank you for the advice, Jaeyun,” The vampire sincerely said. Jake smiled and patted the other’s back.

“Dude, of course.”

That night, Sunghoon was laying awake in his bed. (What else would he be doing? Sleeping?) He was scrolling through his phone, watching plenty of Youtube videos about relationship advice and how to get to the “next level.” He somehow found himself in a rabbit hole of niche internet blogs, countless articles flooding his screen about How to Have Sex for the First Time and A Virgin’s Guide to Pleasure.

Although humans were complicated, he was glad that at least he had these guides to help him through his struggles. He read through pieces telling him how to set the mood with candles and roses, editorials about how to properly perform foreplay to prepare someone for sex. It was almost an information overload for his brain– too many possibilities of how your first time could go was actually making the vampire nervous. If it did go at all, of course. He’s been a vampire for over a century, so surely he could wait as long as you wanted to wait before your first time.

Suddenly, a notification swiped down on his phone.

Y/N (girlfriend): hoonieeee!!! WYD!!! hoon (boyfieee): Hello Baby. I am just reading. Do you need something?

Sunghoon felt a bit smug as he called you a pet name. He had recently learned in a stupid KDrama you guys watched that boyfriends commonly called their girlfriends pet names, and he wanted to apply what he just learned.

Y/N (girlfriend): heheee not much baby <3 Y/N (girlfriend): anyways wanna come over after my final next fri and cook din? been craving sum real food… Y/N (girlfriend): like steak?

Steak sounded good. Steak had iron in it.

hoon (boyfieee): Yes. I cannot wait to be there. Y/N (girlfriend): yayyy!! Y/N (girlfriend): missin u already lol

Sunghoon exhaled slowly, thumb hovering over the screen.

hoon (boyfieee): I miss you too. Do not fret. You will see me soon. hoon (boyfieee): Do well on your final. I will reward you.

He stared at his own message for a second. It didn’t exactly feel like himself. A reward? Was that the right word? But before he could overthink it, you replied.

Y/N (girlfriend): omg are you gonna kiss me when i’m done Y/N (girlfriend): i’m gonna ACE THIS EXAM!!!!

Sunghoon laughed. So cute. You were always so cute.

hoon (boyfieee): Focus on studying, needy girl. hoon (boyfieee): But yes, I will. :)

In a way, it was a reward for himself too, right?

❛❛I'LL EVEN PLUCK THE SUN, THE MOON FOR YOU❞ ── 4

“Hoonie, hi! I bought a meannn cut of ribeye!”

Sunghoon entered your apartment like he owned it. (It almost felt like he did with how often he was over. Maybe he should start offering to pay rent or something.) “Did you, now? Was it expensive? Show me the receipt, baby, I will pay for it.”

“Eek, so dreamy, Hoon, you’re making a woman swoon! But don’t worry, this is on me! And I bought rosemary and thyme and some fancy Kerrygold Irish Butter, but you’re allergic to garlic right? So I didn’t buy any!” You triumphantly said, as if it were the greatest achievement in the world to remember your boyfriend’s food sensitivities. Sunghoon smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate it.” He entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He hugged you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “What sides do you want, baby?”

“I was thinkinggg…. maybe just mashed potatoes or asparagus or something?” You suggested, “Look in my fridge, Hoonie, you can pick!”

The vampire begrudgingly unraveled his arms from your body to wash his hands before he opened your fridge. The cold air hit him in the face so hard that he backed up. He looked through your very normal groceries: eggs, milk, bacon. He scrunched his nose at your terrible way of hiding garlic, tucked away in a bunch of paper towels secured with a rubber band in a deep corner behind your juice carton. It was endearing to see how much you cared for him.

He opened your drawers to see lettuce, bell peppers, cucumbers and– ah, there it was. A bunch of asparagus. He pulled it out and began rinsing the vegetables under the sink as you salted the steak. The steak was bloody, with red juices leaking onto your wooden cutting board and soaking through the splinters. But it was strangely unappetizing. Animal’s blood always was, but for some reason, the smell of it was pungent and repulsive. Sunghoon sniffled, rubbing a finger under his nose.

“Hoon, wash your hands,” you gently chided. He listened to you, moving the vegetables to the counter to rest in a bowl while he washed his hands. He then broke off the thick, fibrous stalks off the asparagus to get rid of the bitter stems. He learned that they were bad for humans. “How do you want to prepare the asparagus, Hoon?” You hummed as you leaned forward on the counter, watching as your boyfriend started snapping the asparagus.

“What do you think is good?” He responded, not really caring because it would taste shitty no matter how well it was prepared.

“Uhmm~ lemon and parmesan? Seared on a pan is really good…” You murmured. Sunghoon nodded half-heartedly, tossing the stalks in the trash. He pulled a pan from your cabinets, flipping it and settling it on the gas stove. You watched intently as he turned on the stove, pulling his phone in his other hand to look up a recipe. He looked effortlessly sexy, with his (oddly transparent) veins emphasized through his skin and his sleeves rolled up to expose his built forearms. You wiped your mouth to get rid of the drool you were about to trail in your mouth.

“Wash your hands, baby,” he chided in the same tone you used earlier. You bounded to the sink and did as told.

“Hmph. Acting like we don’t swap spit every time we see each other. What’s a little drool, anyways?” You huffed. He seemed a bit scandalized at your response, with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“That is a bit— a bit vulgar…” Sunghoon muttered. You laughed and skipped back towards him, leaning over his side to look at the recipe he was watching. You helped him oil up the pan before he carefully picked a couple of asparagus to settle inside, letting the vegetable sizzle in the liquid fat.

While the asparagus were searing in the pan, Sunghoon was slicing up lemons while you shredded parmesan. “This is so fun, Hoon. I’m so excited to eat– I’m literally drooling,” you rambled. The asparagus hissed in the pan, letting the smokiness of its natural flavors fill the air. You turned on the hood fan as Sunghoon flipped them carefully with tongs. “Oooh, my boyfriend is a chef…! Make room, I’m putting the steak on.”

He pulled out another pan for your steak while you seasoned the meat with freshly cracked black pepper. Your fingers rubbed the spice into the lean cut, your other hand reaching to oil up the pan with a neutral oil. “You like your steak medium rare, right?” You hummed. Sunghoon nodded, letting out a half-hearted sound for an answer. He didn’t like his steak any sort of way.

“Yes, as do you, right?” He looked at you for confirmation. You nodded, letting out a sound of awe as you dropped the steak into the pan. Sunghoon took the asparagus off the stove once he deemed it perfectly seared, pulling out two plates to start the curation of a beautiful dinner display. When you pulled your steak off the pan, it had a beautiful crust and smelled utterly divine. And when you sliced it open, it had a a perfect wall-to-wall cook, the center a gorgeous pink with a gray band lining the edges. 

You carefully plated the steak alongside the asparagus, astounded by your once-in-a-lifetime perfect cooking ability. Maybe your boyfriend’s presence buffed your skill a little bit. You snapped a quick pic, a candid one with Sunghoon’s hand blocking a bit of the plate. “Ugh, Hoon, your hand was in the way!” You whined, but when the picture appeared on your phone, his hand was gone. “Oh, I guess not.” You shrugged, completely missing how tense he had gotten at that small exchange. “Well, let’s eat dinner, Hoon!”

Sunghoon obediently took the plate to the small dining table. “Should we watch a movie after, Hoon?” You squealed, clapping your hands eagerly as the seductive aroma of the amazing steak and asparagus filled your senses. Sunghoon nodded. He couldn’t lie, even as a vampire, the steak dinner was tempting him. 

You both dug into your meal, you way more ecstatic about it then him. Humans were funny– Sunghoon only needed blood to sustain him, physically and mentally. But seeing you get so excited over a steak dinner compared earlier in the week where you constantly complained about having instant ramen for dinner the fifth time in a week during finals felt more nourishing than even having your blood in a packet. You were chewing eagerly, your cheeks puffing with every bite and muted satisfied sound escaping your mouth.

After dinner and dishes, you both ended up collapsed in the couch with your fluffy blanket entangling both of your bodies together. You were sitting comfortably in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as you watched a random American movie. You were fiddling with Sunghoon’s thick and pretty fingers, rubbing your thumb against his pale knuckles. His chin was resting on your shoulder, mouth buried in the crook of your neck as he absentmindedly pressed kisses to it.

You weren’t really focused on the movie much. How could you be when your irresistible boyfriend couldn’t get his mouth off of you? You squirmed as his lips landed close to your ear, tickling you. “Hoon, the movie…” You mumbled, though you could give less of a shit about it at this point.

“I am watching…” he said, clearly not watching. You snorted softly, leaning further back into him. His arms tightened around your waist instinctively, keeping you settled comfortably in his lap. The television continuing streaming your shitty movie, but neither of you have been paying attention to the plot at this point. (That was barely even there, in the first place.)

Your fingers continued tracing over his pale hands as his lips continued to wander. His arms loosened so his hands could hold you, his large hands splaying across the expanse of your sides. “So clingy…” you muttered.

“Finals stole you from me,” he said, matter-of-factly. He continued to litter your skin with his soft kisses, and eventually, you couldn’t help yourself from meeting his mouth. He smiled as you both kissed, teeth clacking against each other as the innocent kisses evolved into a needy claim of each other. The pace became rapid as you contorted your body, setlting in his lap so that you were properly facing him. Your arms circled around his neck, pulling you closer. Sunghoon could tell you were still being clumsy, but that made it even more endearing. You were acting so needy, and it was igniting a new feeling in the vampire.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jake’s voice became present.  “Okay so– first, you guys are like– you guys gotta get in the mood, right? Let’s say you guys are kissing and making out and whatnot. You gotta ask how she feels, ya know? Check in and read the mood, then ask really carefully.” Sunghoon pulled away, a hand moving to gently cup your cheek, his thumbpad gently stroking your soft skin.

“Baby, are you feeling okay?” He mumbled. You nodded. “Okay– you need to tell me if it is uncomfortable,” he murmured. Your fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck as you nodded, pulling him back into you. His eyes fluttered shut as he got lost in the feeling of your sweet kisses, devouring him more than he could have ever done to you.

You shifted your hips over his, trying to get comfortable, but the movement pulled out a strangled groan from Sunghoon’s throat. You shifted away, alarmed. “Hoon? Does it hurt?” You softly asked. He shook his head, steadying your body by gripping onto you. His kisses moved down to pepper onto your neck, leaving hickeys in its wake. He was getting so hungry, so hungry… But it wasn’t the typical hollowness that left his stomach growling. It was a flame that kept flickering, pooling an unfamiliar heat in his body that left him shivering.

He bit down onto your neck instinctively despite his fangs not protracting, leaving only safe indents where his teeth were. You whimpered, squirming your head away. He bit again– Oh? This almost felt like the real thing. He was tempted to draw his fangs, but a pressing question had taken priority in his mouth.

“Baby, do– do you want to take the next step?”

The question startled you. You stilled, gripping his buff shoulders to pull him away from you, looking him in the eye. Sunghoon smiled comfortingly, trying to show you that he was completely relaxed, even though he was consumed with anxiety. If he had a functioning heart, it would be rapidly thumping just like yours.

“Uhm– Hoon, I– I dunno…” You confessed nervously, trying to widen your distance out of fear. “Uh– Hoon, I– I’m still a virgin and– and I don’t know if I’m ready yet…” You were stumbling over your words, heavy breaths escaping you as you tried to regulate your nerves. Sunghoon gently rubbed your hip, trying to soothe you.

“That is okay, Y/N,” he said softly, “I am one too. A virgin, I mean,” he added in an attempt to pacify your worries. “And we do not have to do anything you do not want to.” He nodded confidently. You smiled, and he could feel your heartbeat level out as your shoulders relaxed.

Vampirism was inherently about taking, taking, taking. Taking blood, taking lives, and taking apart people from the inside. But nothing about this relationship was about taking, not the way he intended. He was supposed to take your blood, drain your veins dry for all that they could give– but now he was in your space, making you feel comforted, denying his own instincts just to preserve every bit of you.

“I love you,” Sunghoon abruptly whispered. “I love you, Y/N.” He was suddenly overwhelmed with his emotions– guilt and adoration. The idea of him eating you before getting to this point filled him with so much shame that it was choking him. A few months ago, you were just considered a mere blood bag, reduced down to food and fuel. But now, the thought of it made him sick, the thought that he would’ve simply gotten over you in seconds with a deep pitch of his fangs. That you wouldn’t be here, your heart beating for him and only him. That you would just be another cold body without any blood and another unsolved case. Oh. Sunghoon felt like he was going to seriously throw up. He’s not even sure if vampires could throw up.

“You make me feel…” Alive, human, mortal. “... you make me feel so happy.” Is what he finalized with.

You gently grabbed his jaw, turning his face back toward you. “I love you too,” you said. “I love you so much, Hoon. And you make me happy, too.” You nodded. His throat tightened. Of course you loved him, because you only knew his good sides, not the sides that thought about indulging in your crimson proteins or planned to date you just to fucking consume you.

You leaned forward first this time, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before curling back into his chest. Sunghoon wrapped the blanket tighter around both of you, keeping the both of you warm. The movie credits had long begun rolling, nearing the end. You yawned quietly, mouth stretching as a signal of your drowsiness settling in. 

“Tired?” he asked.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Can we stay like this a little longer?”

“Of course, baby.”

Your breathing eventually evened out against him. And while you drifted closer to sleep in his arms, Sunghoon stayed awake. Well, mostly because he was a vampire, but he was sure that even if he wasn’t, he’d remain awake. You looked so calm and peaceful and vulnerable that he felt obligated to stay awake and watch over you, making the most minuscule movements of his life. And Sunghoon would have revelled in that stillness of yours if he was still craving to eat you, but instead his hunger was swallowed down, suppressed by the love he had for you.

Summer came, bringing in a blistering heat. You didn’t go back to your hometown like you usually did. Instead, you stayed in your apartment during the three months off of school, choosing to remain with your boyfriend.

Over the 17 weeks that you guys stayed within proximity of each other, dates lined your calendar nearly every single day. Normally, you would’ve gotten sick of spending so much time with someone, but Sunghoon’s presence in your life settled right where it belonged that it felt like he had always existed alongside you. Your roommate had subletted her room to someone who was barely ever there, giving Sunghoon the perfect opportunity to basically move in with you. He was still officially living with Jake, his name still on the lease. But he practically became your new roommate with how often he was at your place.

The sunny season shined a new light upon your boyfriend. You came to find yourself endeared and amused by how much he cared about UV protection. After you told him you found his stock of sunscreen in his bathroom, he gave up hiding it and began piling his supply in your place as well. You always had an umbrella ready for when he finally obliged to take walks in the morning and long protective sleeves and leggings for whenever you guys went out while the sun was.

Summer left as soon as it came, and suddenly fall was beginning to settle in as a new semester begun.

You admittedly cried a little. Sunghoon was now in his fourth year and you were a third year, meaning that graduation would fall upon him. It felt like you met him too late, you had cried to him one night. But Sunghoon knew both of you had all of the time in the world. He was a vampire after all, he had centuries to kill, and he could spend eternity with you if he wanted to. (He said that to you, minus the whole vampire shtick. You had laughed and smacked his arm, but he meant it entirely.)

Time continued moving despite your protests and tears. Soon, your laptop was flooded with assignments and your notebooks were filled with redundant philosophy and sociology jargon. Even though you said for the third year in a row that you would finally get your shit together, your color-coded journal became increasingly empty and your working hours began to bleed into dawn.

A part of you feared that you would unintentionally find distance with Sunghoon, with how your workloads had nearly doubled since last year. But he found a way to weave himself into your daily life. He walked you to class, waited for you even at the dead of night, and showed up at your apartment with takeout whenever you texted him that you were hungry. (He had simply began putting the hours of the day into you while night time became his productive space. Being a vampire did have its perks.)

Stressful was an understatement to describe your semester, and even Sunghoon couldn’t deny that it was creeping into him too. So when Jake appeared with a wide, anticipatory grin and a Doorlist notification on his phone, the slightly-younger vampire felt like he was genuinely going to punch the Australian.

“I am not going to a party,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“Dude, it’s Jay’s party. We have to go. It’s his last rager!” Jake whined.

“You and I both know that is not true. We are also a bit too old to be attending parties now.”

“You are never too old to attend a party, Hoon.” Jake nodded. “Matter-of-fact, we’re supposed to be at the legal drinking age right now. We should be at that party. And it’s Jay, man! Remember when he found out that we were vampires, and he was soo chill about it too.”

“Firstly, he found out that you were a vampire, and then you revealed my identity as one under no pressure.” Sunghoon gritted his teeth. “And what if we are in a situation where Jay is intoxicated, and then he says something like, ‘Oh, by the way, these are my two vampire friends!” Sunghoon was blubbering for the first time in his life, his eloquent manner of speaking vanishing.

“Hoon, who is going to believe that?” Jake groaned.

“Drunk words are sober truth,” Sunghoon replied solemnly, “Plus, there will be other girls there. And I do not want Y/N to get the wrong idea.” He nodded, crossing his arms. It was the perfect reason, and he’s sure Jake knew it. So when the Australian vampire spoke up, Sunghoon nearly choked.

“I heard from Y/N’s roomie that they’re going.”

Sunghoon froze, stunned as Jake dropped the final bomb that he knew would make the slightly-younger vampire explode. He ignored the fact that Jake knew your roommate to press the older vampire. “Y/N is going? Y/N did not tell me.” Sunghoon gritted his teeth. He knew he sounded like a possessive boyfriend, but he didn’t care about his tone.

“Oh? Really? She RSVP’d as going on the Doorlist, though?” Jake showed Sunghoon for proof. Sunghoon felt like he was about to explode.

“RSVP me too,” Sunghoon conceded. Jake pumped his fist.

“Yes, bro, let’s go!” He cheerfully said. Sunghoon checked his phone when a notification slid in.

Y/N (girlfriend): babeeee my roomie is dragging me to jay’s party this weekend. can u come with me plsss? hoon (boyfieee): YES. hoon (boyfieee): I mean. Yes. Let’s go together. Jaeyun and I will pick you up, okay? And your roommate too, I suppose. Y/N (girlfriend): yay!! oki, c u hoon <3

❛❛THREE PEOPLE, TWO SETS OF FANGS❞ ── 5

Sunghoon waited outside patiently of your apartment complex, sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. His fingers drummed impatiently on the window switch, just wanting you to come out already.

“Bro, chill, lover boy.” Jake snorted. Sunghoon let out a small hiss, watching the door, waiting for the hinges to creak and the fortified wood to swing open. His leg jumped up and down as he counted the seconds until he’d see you bound down the stairs with a cute smile on your face. Maybe in a cute outfit, too. He’d never really seen your party getups, and you both have never been to the bars together.

The vampire’s breath hitched as the door to your complex swung open, revealing two women. It was you and your roommate and Dracula– you were absolutely stunning. Wearing an outfit that would bring any mortal, and immortal, to their knees. It wasn’t even that revealing or particularly sexy, but you brought out the best of it. Your hair was styled beautifully, bouncing with every step you took. You were smiling widely while talking to your Chowon, radiating a brightness that could rival the sun and scar his vampiric skin.

Jake let out a low whistle. "Damn." Sunghoon's head snapped toward him.

"What?" He growled.

“Not Y/N, dumbass. Chowon. Damn, she’s so pretty.” Jake fixed his hair in the mirror again. The backdoor suddenly swung open, and the noisy sounds of two girls clamoring into the back of a car filled the atmosphere.

"Hoonie!" you beamed. Immediately, every trace of irritation disappeared from the vampire’s face.

"Hello, baby,” he greeted back casually, turning around to look at you. You leaned forward with a small giggle, your knees bumping into the center console as you reached to kiss his cheek. Sunghoon practically melted. Your perfume was intoxicating, and it was almost accentuating your natural smell. Your lips were painted a deep color, and he’s sure that your kiss just left a lipstick mark on his face.

Yeah, Sunghoon wasn’t sure he would survive this party.

You spent the entire ride leaning forward between the seats, chatting animatedly with Jake and Chowon while Sunghoon sat quietly in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. (You caught him staring every single time he thought he was being subtle, and it always brought a small smile to your lips.)

By the time Jake pulled into the crowded street outside the party house, music was already rattling the windows and Sunghoon was sure he spotted some guy already yakking in the neighbor’s bushes.

"Oh my God, it's packed," you gasped excitedly. Sunghoon immediately wanted to go home. The front lawn was crowded, Red Solo cups already littered on the grass. The bass from the speakers was so loud that he could feel it vibrating through the asphalt of the street. There was so many people that Sunghoon was picking up on enough pulses to have his head ringing.

"Fun," he deadpanned. Jake parked on the street, a bit away from the party so that nobody would yak on his tires. The four of you walked to the venue, with your Chowon hitting it off with Jake while you swung your hands with Sunghoon. As soon as you entered the venue, you were sucked into another world with strobing lights to replace the night sky and loud EDM music in place of the chirping crickets. Sunghoon was already regretting his decision. He should’ve just asked if you guys could stay in and have a nice little comfortable date to yourself that didn’t involve over 100 people cramped into a two-story house.

“Be careful. Men are wolves.” Sunghoon said seriously. You giggled.

“Aren’t you a man?” You teasingly asked.

“I’m not a wolf.” He was genuinely repulsed at your question. He was a vampire, a respectable vampire. Werewolves were all instincts and impulses, pheromones and whatnot. Vampires were supposed to be creatures of restraint, sophistication, and control. (Whether that was actually true was up for debate, considering Jake was already losing his mind on the Bloody Mary’s he snuck into the party.)

“Hoon? Should we get a drink too?” You asked, glancing at Jake who was downing his homemade cocktails like he had just found water in a desert. Sunghoon looked around. Everyone else was drunk off of their minds, and the place stunk of booze and body odor. He scrunched his nose.

“Do you want one? I will not get one,” he replied, crossing his arms. You pouted.

“You’re so responsible, Hoon. I’ll try a cup of jungle juice!” You cheerfully spoke. He held your hand, letting you drag him to the bar where Jay’s friend, Sunoo, was standing. He poured a cup that looked like it was wayyy too big of a serving for one gal before sending you a thumbs up.

You took a sip, your eyebrows raising in satisfaction. “Oh? This is dangerous. It tastes like pure juice.”

“Jay’s secret recipe!” Sunoo yelled over the hard bass. You turned around to laugh at Sunoo’s remark when you heard Jake cheer.

“Yoo, Hoon, man, I found Jay! Come say hi!” The Australian rambunctiously yelled, an arm looped around Chowon’s waist. For a brief moment, Sunghoon’s attention shifted to look at the older man. Then, he felt a body press up against him, muttering an apology as it squeezed past. Then another person followed, and then an entire group of freshmen guys yelling about the jungle juice slipped past. And suddenly, you weren’t in his line of vision anymore.

Sunghoon’s head snapped around, trying his best to locate you. He even tried to sniff you out (maybe he was part-werewolf), to no avail. He couldn’t even single out the aroma of your sweet blood with the large crowd, the musty smell of sweaty bodies filling his senses instead. His nose scrunched up in pure disgust.

"Y/N?" He raised his voice, but nobody answered back.

Meanwhile, you were being swept in an entirely different direction. "Hoon?" you called out nervously, standing on your toes to try to get a glimpse of his familiar black hair amongst the seat of people. But the crowd had completely swallowed the both of you up into different currents. "Great." You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone, only to feel a pang of frustration from the lack of bars.

"Looking for someone?" A voice asked. It was way too soft to be heard above the crowd, yet somehow, you had distinguished it amongst the screams, singing, and EDM. You turned around, your nose nearly bumping into the chest of a stranger. You looked up. He had a gentle and easygoing smile on his lips, an amicable sign that looked like it could put anyone at ease. Yet for some reason, it made you a bit unnerved.

"Yeah," you laughed awkwardly. "I lost my boyfriend." The pale man licked his lips, raising an eyebrow in surprise and vague disappointment.

"Boyfriend, huh?" He replied.

"Mhm." You hummed, a bit weirded out.

"Lucky guy,” he commented. His eyes drifted briefly toward your neck and wrist, before slowly looking back at your face. His smile never left. He leaned in to speak into your ear, "My name's Sangwon."

A chill crawled down your spine. When he stepped closer, his eyes looked exactly like how Sunghoon’s used to when he stared at you during class.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky too. Nice to meet you Sangwon.” You nervously chuckled, taking a cautious step back, trying your hardest to put at least some semblance of distance between the both of you despite the packed party. You intentionally didn’t give your name, feeling more and more creeped out the more you looked at him. Sure, he was attractive, but he was giving you the heebie-jeebies for some reason. “Uhm– I’m going to find my boyfriend, yeah.”

“Do you need me to accompany you? It’s really crowded,” he murmured, his voice blaring sirens in your ear despite how soft-spoken he was.

“No– oh no, that’s really okay… I mean, I’ll be fine.” You swallowed. Sangwon tilted his head.

“Your boyfriend wouldn't want you wandering around alone, would he?” His voice lulled almost into a purr. You scoffed, now getting a bit angry at the sheer audacity of this man. Alright, now he was just being downright freaky. Before you could decline again, a wave of people pushed through the room. Someone bumped your shoulder, sending you stumbling slightly. Sangwon's hand immediately shot out to steady you. His grip was cold, almost as cold as Sunghoon’s usual body temperature and way too cold for the hot and heavy-air atmosphere you were in. You stared at him, but made a point not to thank him.

His pointer and middle fingerpads brushed against the inside of your wrist before he let go of your wrist, his digits slowly unfurling around your bone and skin. His smile seemed to widen as he brushed up against the epidermis. “Your heart's beating really fast,” he whispered.

“Uh... what?”

“Probably the music.” He laughed lightly. “And the crowd.”

“Riiiight…” You drawled out. What a freak! You inched away, backing up. Sangwon seemed to follow, as if you had him on a fishing line that magically pulled him. His eyes dropped down, and for a second you were disgusted to see it fall to your lips, but then it dropped lower. You were about to smack him, thinking he was staring at your chest or something, but his gaze shifted slightly to the right. You could see as the red and white lights flashed on his face that his pupils were dilating, his focus seemingly on one thing:

Your neck.

His mouth fell agape, and you could see his canines protruding, thinning of into sharp peaks. Your breath hitched. The pleasant smile he had been wearing all conversation suddenly looked strained, as if he were forcing it into place.

"Are you okay?" you asked cautiously. Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of you as you were pulled back into someone’s chest. You didn’t have to look behind you to know who it was, because the cold and broad muscle was one that you had been slotted up against for endless nights. A firm, left arm wrapped around the top of your chest, locking you into a protective embrace.

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” Sunghoon hissed. Sangwon's eyes flickered from Sunghoon's face to the arm wrapped around you. Then, slowly, a real and oddly amused smile spread across his lips.

"Oh." The single syllable carried a strange understanding, and it felt like you were suddenly on the outsider of an inside joke. "She's yours." Sangwon raised both hands, as if surrendering. "I'm not trying to cause any trouble."

"You were staring at her neck." The accusation left Sunghoon immediately. You blinked, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What an oddly specific thing to say. You looked at Sunghoon, and suddenly you didn’t recognize him anymore. When you looked back at Sangwon, it felt less like two strangers meeting and more like two predators sizing each other up.

“So?” Sangwon sighed. "You know how difficult it is to find good donors these days,” he complained, almost whining. Your mouth fell agape in pure discombobulation. Donors? What the hell was he talking about, and why does it seem like Sunghoon understood?

“She is not– She is not a donor.” Sunghoon swallowed, almost sounding pained. “She is my girlfriend, and I love her.” You would’ve cooed if you weren’t so fucking scared and confused. Sangwon looked you up and down before glancing at Sunghoon again.

"How long?" He licked his lips.

Sunghoon's jaw clenched. "That's none of your business,” he spat out.

"Months?" Sangwon guessed. “Months, and you haven’t fed?

FED???

"What does that mean? Hoonie– baby– what does that mean?” You asked, his protective grip on you suddenly feeling suffocating, the weight of his muscular arm now feeling too heavy for your liking. Sangwon barked out a laugh.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Stop. Talking.” Sunghoon didn’t know why he didn’t just pull away. He was so caught up in his anger and disgust

"No, seriously." He pointed between the two of you. "You mean to tell me you've been dating her for months and you're still surviving off bagged blood?"

The color drained from your face. What the fuck does he mean bagged blood. It was like your head was on a swivel with the way you kept looking at your boyfriend and the random stranger.

"...What? Babe, what the hell is he talking about–” You began to nervously ramble. Sunghoon looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Unfortunately for him, Sangwon seemed to be having the time of his life, a cheshire-like grin spreading on his lips as he kept talking.

"Dude, that's insane. You're telling me you've been sleeping next to this girl every night and haven't taken a single sip?" The words were beginning to form a horrifying picture. Was your boyfriend a fucking cannibal or something? Sunghoon's eyes flashed dangerously.

"One more word and I'll rip your throat out." He snarled. The threat came out so naturally and so unlike your delicate boyfriend who was always precious smiles and soft words. 

The EDM was pounding your ear drums, and your heart rate was accelerating. You nervously began to paw at Sunghoon’s arm nervously, your throat closing up and breath stuttering with every heavyset inhale. "H-Hoon..." you whispered. Your voice was barely audible. For the first time since you'd known him, his touch didn't comfort you. It felt like a trap. Sunghoon immediately loosened his grip, hurt flashing across his face.

Sangwon laughed, his eyes wrinkling into gentle crescents despite his mocking demeanor. "See?" He said in a whiny tone. "Now you've gone and scared her. It’s okay, you should feel special. Do you know how hard it is for vampires to love?”

As you looked back at Sangwon, for a split second, your eyes caught something gleaming in the light. A sharp pair of fangs. Your breath caught. You turned around to face your boyfriend.

And when you looked at Sunghoon, he was baring the same set of sharp teeth.

Your boyfriend was a fucking vampire.

You stumbled forwards, out of his grip and towards Sangwon. Realizing you were in between two fucking vampires, you stumbled out to the side, letting your feet lead you away. You heard faintly hear Sunghoon call your name, and hear his footsteps pounding against the floor as they followed after you. By the time you got outside, you thought that the fresh air would let you breathe again, but every inhale seemed to weigh more down on your lungs.

“Baby, please– just listen to me, please, baby.” Sunghoon continuously begged behind you, his voice following you like a loyal puppy.

“Sunghoon– you–” You didn’t even know what to say. What could you? You were standing outside a frat house at midnight after discovering your boyfriend was apparently a vampire. Like the mythical creature that wasn’t supposed to be fucking real, vampire.

“Baby, please,” Sunghoon repeated. You spun around. He nearly bumped into you, his chest nearly slamming against your nose. You backed up, putting some distance between the both of you.

“Are you a vampire?”

The question sounded ridiculous. It wasn’t a sentence that you’d ever thought you’d say. You couldn’t even fucking imagine what situation you would ever use it in, yet here you were, in front of your supposed vampire boyfriend. The second the question left your mouth, Sunghoon's face crumpled. He couldn't even deny it now that he was confronted directly, and his silence was answer enough.

Your stomach dropped. “Oh my God.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh my God.” Your hands flew into your hair. Everything suddenly made sense. The sunscreen, the garlic allergy, the weird staring and formal way of speaking. His fucking books from forever ago and his odd fascination with the Victorian and Gothic eras. His cold skin, his weird fixation with giving you hickeys, and the way he never seemed to get tired. And oh my goodness this is why you could never use the bathroom with him because he doesn’t even show up in mirrors– Your knees nearly buckled, your mind getting crushed with the sheer amount of realizations in your relationship thus far. “Is it true, Sunghoon?” You whispered, “That you’re really a vampire?”

“Yes.” The answer came quietly.

“You lied to me.” Your voice cracked. Sunghoon looked like you'd stabbed him with a wooden stake.

“I know, baby–”

“For months!” You added.

“I know.” He exhaled.

“You let me think you were normal!” Sunghoon’s heart was physically aching, a feeling that he hadn’t experienced a century ago. His heart couldn’t ache. It wasn’t even pumping. But of course, it was you who had pulled out such a strong emotion out of him.

“I wanted to be, Y/N. Please– I really wanted to be normal. For you,” he murmured. For the first time since you’ve met Sunghoon, he looked scared. “I did not mean to lie to you forever,” he said quietly. “I just— I was just waiting for the right time!”

“And when was that?” you demanded. “When we graduated? When we got married? When I was eighty, on my deathbed, while you still look as young as ever, Sunghoon?” Each question made him flinch.

“I do not know,” was all he could say. The music from inside the house pulsed faintly through the walls, but all you could feel was the silence that was lingering over both of your heads.

“Were you really going to drink my blood?” You quietly asked. Sunghoon froze. The question clearly wasn't the one he'd been expecting, but he couldn’t lie to you anymore. He nodded slowly once.

“A long time ago,” he whispered, “But not anymore. Not anymore,” he mumbled. Your question sent him off into a bizarre, desperate, and incoherent rambling. He was muttering to himself, his gaze focused on the hard grass beneath your feet. He took a cautious step forward. “I would rather starve. I promise you, baby.” He sniffled, and when he looked up again, he was crying.

“Sunghoon…” you mumbled, unable to resist cupping his cold skin and wiping away his tear. He nuzzled his cheek into your warm palm, his eyes fluttering shut. He wasn’t the scary bloodsucker that Sangwon made him out to me. No, he was still your sweet boyfriend Sunghoon.

“I–” He choked out. “I– Your blood smelled so good when I first met you…” He confessed. “The first time we became project partners, I wasn't happy because I liked you. I was happy because it made it so much easier for me to just drink you up. But you are sweet– you are so so sweet, Y/N, just like your blood. And every time we met up, we got closer and– and you made me feel something I haven’t felt in over a hundred years. I don’t know when it happened, Y/N, but I didn’t just want your blood anymore. I wanted you.” He was breathless as he rambled on and on, and he would continue until there was no more air in his lungs as long as you were convinced and you didn’t leave him.

“Hoon, I’m– I’m really mad still…” your voice cracked, your fingers clumsily coming up to rub away as a tear slipped down your cheek. “You– you still lied to me… and– and you wanted to suck my blood. I dunno how I feel about that, Hoon…” you murmured, “but I can’t deny that I haven’t been at my happiest with you. And admittedly, I don’t think I can say that I hate you…”

Sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with the tears that lined his ducts. He sniffled, his pale hands rubbing against each other at the palms to help soothe himself. "You do not have to forgive me tonight," he said quickly, as if the words had been waiting behind his teeth. "Or tomorrow. Or next week." His gaze dropped to the pavement. "Honestly, I do not know if I would forgive me." He laughed weakly, wiping at his tear-stained face.

"I understand if you are scared of me, too,” he spoke lowly. You couldn’t deny it. You were scared. Not exactly of Sunghoon, but of everything you had just learned. It was too much for a college student to process. That vampires apparently existed. And your boyfriend was one. And that same boyfriend who kissed your forehead before exams and made you your favorite instant ramyeon when you were sick had once looked at you and thought about draining all your blood.

It was way too much.

"I’m sorry, Hoon– I– I think… I need a second. Away. From you,” you hesitantly said. Sunghoon nodded in understanding. “I’ll– I’ll call an uber. And I’ll call you eventually, Hoon. When I’ve sorted everything out.”

Sunghoon spent a week in absolute misery.

The first day, he kept staring at all of the pictures of you he had on his phone. The second day, he went through your social media, stalking your account to see your minimal amount of photos posted and to see if you had put anything on your stories. The third day, he was contemplating whether or not it’d be worth it to bake himself in the Sun. He wasn’t even sure how he made it through the rest of the four days without actually dying.

"For the love of Dracula, man." Jake threw a throw pillow directly at his face. Sunghoon didn't even flinch. The pillow hit him square in the fact before it slowly slid off. "Get up, you’re embarrassing our entire species. Vampires don’t sulk, we smolder, man." Jake looked at the untouched blood packets littering the coffee table. "And when was the last time you ate, dude? You’re making our apartment look like a fucking crime scene in the making. And you look paler than usual, man, damn. You look like Nosferatu.”

"I am not hungry. And do not compare me to him. That feels blasphemous.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Have you texted her at least?”

“I am waiting for her to text me. She is the one who said she needed space, so I must wait for her.” Sunghoon sighed, rubbing his forehead despite himself. Jake winced.

“Man, it must be really bad if you’re touching your face..” He gave a firm pat to Sunghoon’s back. “Well, look on the bright side, man. She probably won’t break up with you if she just said she needed space, right?” Jake tried. Sunghoon nodded, but there were no emotions on his listless face.

“But what if she decides to after a week?” Sunghoon sniffled. Jake rolled his eyes.

“Man, I think if anything, if I found out my boyfriend was a vampire, it would make him hotter!” Jake tried once more. Sunghoon nodded again, but there wasn’t exactly a positive or negative reaction. He wasn’t exactly scared of being dumped. He was more terrified of the fact that he could have scarred you. He was terrified that instead of picturing him as your boyfriend, all you would see is a set of fangs, ready to dig into you and kill you at any moment.

He felt like throwing up. It was probably because of the malnourishment, but he felt sick at the thought of you thinking that he would kill you. And the truth was that he did at one point, but even though he changed his mind about it, the concept had still existed at one point. And for you, every perspective and sweet memory the two of you shared was probably now stained by his foolish intentions. He wanted to rip his hair out. He was nearly about to actually when his phone began to ring.

He lunged for his phone on the coffee table, his heart feeling lighter as he read the contact. It was yours. He picked up before the second ring could even happen. “Y/N? Babe? Is that you?” He meekly spoke.

“Hoon? Can you come over?” You asked through the phone. His heart felt like it was breaking into two as he heard your soft sniffles that you tried so hard to suppress.

“Yes. I will be there. I–” He let out a defeated sigh. “I will be there in five minutes. I am going to fly,” he honestly admitted as he walked to the balcony door. His fingers pulled back the black-out curtains for a moment to reveal the weather outside. The Sun was almost mocking him, shining brightly despite his gloomy mood, and he hissed silently as the ray caught on his exposed arm.

“What? What do you mean fly, Hoon? Like– fly with your vampiric powers?” You fussed. He winced.

“Yes. I love you. Five minutes, babe.”

And as promised, he was outside the door to your apartment in five minutes. He was about to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open, revealing you in all your glory. You looked, well, like a mess to be honest. Your eyes were puffy, lips pouty, and you were drowning in an oversized sweatshirt that Sunghoon was sure belonged to him. He would’ve felt upset at your condition if you didn’t wear his clothes, because to him, it was a sign that you still loved him some way.

Sunghoon missed you so much. He missed you so much that it felt like his skin was peeling off. Oh, maybe it was. He was standing a little bit in the Sun. You gently wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled him inside your apartment. The curtains were drawn shut, and the living room was illuminated by a warm standing lamp at the end of your couch. The dark atmosphere made him swallow. Were you really sulking in such a dim environment, just as he was?

“I missed you.” He breathed out without thinking. You looked stunned that he spoke up first, but soon, a soft smile spread across your lips.

“I missed you too, Hoon…” you responded, “Let’s– Let’s talk in my room, okay?” You proposed. He nodded obediently. He’d walk into incoming traffic if you asked him in that sweet tone. He followed you and noticed immediately that his sunscreen brand was still on your dresser and that his phone charger was still plugged into the wall. A ghost of a grin haunted his expression.

“Can I just– ask you something?” You exhaled. “How much of our relationship was real? How much of it did you really feel?”

“All of it.” The answer came immediately. You were taken aback at how fast he replied. “I think… for the most part, I was in denial about my feelings. You were my first everything, Y/N,” he confessed, his hands beginning to tremor with the intensity of his passion. “My first girlfriend, my first kiss, and my first love.” He nodded. “Even after over 120 years of living.”

“120 YEARS?” You yelped. He winced, his broad frame curling into himself. He looked less of a vampire and more of a frightened kitten.

“Yes… I am around 120 years old… Give or take?” His shoulders shrugged up with a sheepish look on his face. “But that is not relevant right now…?” He waved his hands dismissively. “All that matters is that I, Park Sunghoon the vampire, am sincerely in love with you.” He nodded, before twisting his expression. “Was that too cheesy?”

“A little bit.” You laughed wetly. You slowly opened your arms, and Sunghoon hesitantly allowed himself to fall into it. Even though he was a muscular vampire, he felt so small in your warm embrace. “I’m still mad, Hoon…” you admitted. “But I can’t lie and say that our relationship doesn’t mean anything to me. Because you’ve been my boyfriend first for a while now, and to me, being a vampire is a secondary thing. Does that make sense?” You kissed his forehead softly, and you could feel the muscles ease under your lips.

“Yes…” he murmured softly. You smiled.

“Although I’ll probably be a little mad for a while. Just ‘cuz you lied to me. And I think I can get past the part where you wanted to suck my blood because you said you don’t want to anymore, I guess. It’s a little muddy there.” You scratched your head. He nodded against your chest.

“I am sorry. I can apologize a million times until you are not mad anymore. On my knees, too. Or you can hang me upside down by my feet like a bat if that makes you happier.” He added. You smiled and gently smoothed down the back of his sleek, black hair before cupping his pale face.

“Maybe later, baby. I just think I want to spend some missed time with my boyfriend right now.”

❛❛THIS SWEET SCENT, FANGS GLOWING RED❞ ── + 1

“Baby, are you okay?”

It had been a while since you and Sunghoon had made up, but somehow looked even sicker than he did when he first appeared on your doorstep. Your boyfriend was already naturally cold and pale, but his white skin somehow turned greyish and practically translucent enough to see the outline of his bone structure. He couldn’t even go out, his skin becoming even more sensitive to UV rays no matter how much he covered himself up. Even a puffer jacket couldn’t stop the sunlight from penetrating through to his skin.

“I am fine,” he said weakly. He was currently bundled up in all of your blankets, laying down in your bed with a hot pack on his forehead. You weren’t sure this would heal him up, and Sunghoon honestly wasn’t sure himself, but he reassured you that it was the thought that counts and that ,“he’s a vampire, so he’ll probably live.”

After three days of his sickness and still no sign of recovery, you called in professional reinforcements.

“Yeah, I dunno man.” Jake shrugged as he casually sucked on his blood pack. He offered some to Sunghoon, who shrugged with a repulsed scrunch of his nose. “Are you hungry, man? You didn’t eat for a like– a week when you guys didn’t talk. Maybe it’s like his stomach shrank or something.” Jake tried to find a reason.

“I have not had a blood pack since before our fight,” Sunghoon admitted honestly, “I tried to, but they taste repulsive for some odd reason.”

“Ohh…” Jake’s mouth formed into a surprised circle. “Have you tried drinking Y/N’s blood?”

“Are you crazy!? That is why we did not speak in the first place, you lunatic!” Sunghoon growled before bursting out into a fit of coughs.

“I mean, you haven’t had any form of sustenance, and you’re disgusted by other blood. If she’s your girl, and you wanted to drink her blood before, logically wouldn’t it be better if you just drank her blood?” Jake suggested.

“What if– what if I hurt you, Y/N?” Sunghoon swallowed, wincing as the dry lining of his esophagus itched. 

“I can always push you off, you know?” You smiled. “I’m not that weak and fragile, Hoon.” Your words were firm, but apparently not firm enough to convince Sunghoon. He was gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously, but you could see how his canines looked sharper than they usually were.

“Okay…” Sunghoon finally conceded. Jake left, taking a bottle of his roommate’s sunscreen that he forgot on the coffee table as “payment” for his help. After the Australian vampire left, you settled into bed with Sunghoon. He sat up properly, letting you sit in his lap. The blanket that had covered his long legs was now strewn across your bed, bunched up on the side against your wall.

“If it hurts, just please slap the immortality out of me.” Sunghoon nodded firmly. You laughed, gently cupping his gaunt face so that he could look at you properly.

“I trust you, baby, just trust yourself too, hm?” The pads of your thumb rubbed up against his cheeks. He let out a small breath before burying his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, as if he could breathe you into your lungs and keep you locked in there forever. A small pleased grunt left his lips, the sound raspy and dry.

“You smell s’good…” he mumbled. You kept looking at his face, taking note of every microexpression he made. His thick eyebrows twitched together, the muscles forming wrinkles at the center. His nose fluttered up and down like a bunny sniffing out for carrots. And then he opened his mouth, and your heart felt like it stopped. (Sunghoon knew it only paced faster.)

Past his plump lips and lining his red mouth was his two sharp fangs, gleaming with how sharp they were. “Gonna sink them into your neck, baby… right here…” Sunghoon’s voice whispered as his jaw hinged wide open. Your fingers instinctively curled, gripping his t-shirt into your clammy grasp. You squeezed your eyes shut, body tensing to brace for the impact of his teeth. Sunghoon immediately felt the tension ripple through your muscles. He gently skimmed his delicate fingers up and down your sides to soothe you. The gesture was so sweet and gentle compared to the threat posed by his pointed canines.

His touch coaxed the stiffness from your muscles bit by bit. The room seemed to narrow until there was nothing but his cold fingertips, your booming heartbeat, and the warmth of his breath ghosting across your throat.

The second you finally relaxed–

CRUNCH! 

The sound exploded through the bedroom. You bit your bottom lip so hard that it drew blood from the thin skin. Your back arched into a rigid bow, chest pressing against his and shoulders coming together to pull into your sides. Sunghoon’s grip on your waist tightened to stabilize your trembling body. He couldn’t speak, too busy with his mouth buried in your neck, but he gently squeezed at your sides to show you that he was there for you.

You felt his lips come down to surround his open mouth before he began to suck. A pleased groan left his mouth as your blood flooded his tastebuds. It was sweeter than anything he could’ve imagined, and for a second, he wondered if Eve felt this way beneath the tree, staring up at the apple before biting into it, only to discover that temptation had never done it justice.

And as soon as that second was over, every thought became incoherent to him, flushing away in a whirlpool. His eyes fluttered shut as he continued to suckle on your neck, his enclosed lips forming a hickey around the two prominent holes pierced in your skin. Sunghoon had spent months trying to convince himself that he didn’t want it anymore because it just wasn’t right, but as soon as the first drop of blood hit his tongue, he was sure he could get drunk purely off the taste alone. You really were AB+, huh.

Every beat of your heart pulsed beneath his lips steadily like a metronome, and every tremor that ran through your body reminded him that you trusted him enough to be this close. Sunghoon’s body was beginning to get flooded with a dizzying warmth that didn’t originate from your blood– no, it was all rushing to his head.

Your boyfriend tightened his grip on your waist, a shaky breath escaping him. If he wasn't careful, he might become addicted to this– the tantalizing cocktail of devotion and satiation that only drinking his girlfriend’s blood could mix up. He drank you down in in slow, greedy pulls, as if trying to savor everything flowing into his mouth. You could feel the faint movement of his Adam’s apple against your skin, each bobbing motion grounding him deeper, as if he were taking more than just blood—like he was taking pieces of your warmth, your heartbeat, your very presence.

Eventually, a dull buzz crept into your head and your strength began to slip from your muscles. Your fingers loosened their hold on his shirt, moving up to curl into fists and weakly rap at his broad shoulders.

He hesitated before pulling off, his breath hitching as he slowly lifted his head from your neck. You took in his expression as his face came back into your focal point. His lips were parted, thinly stained with the crimson tint of your blood, and his eyes were glowing a dark red. Yet, his pupils were unfocused and hazy, as if he was just abruptly woken up from the best dream he’s ever had in his life. As he blinked himself back to reality, his gaze focused on you.

You looked sickly, almost as sick as he was before he drank your blood. You were swaying slightly, your eyes fluttering open and shut like you were learning how they worked for the first time. He licked his lips to gather the remainders of your blood into his mouth. So fucking warm. So sweet. Sooo good, too good. It was everything he dreamt of and more. His eyes flickered to where he punctured your neck. Sunghoon had to bite his lips to suppress an audible groan from escaping his mouth. He abruptly dove back into your neck, but not to drink from you even more. He flattened his tongue and laved it over the two open wounds to seal them with his saliva, effectively cutting off any more blood flow and any more temptation to steal his rationale away.

“Hoon– Hoon, baby…” You whimpered. He pulled back, afraid at the way you sounded almost wounded. But then, he felt it. He glanced down to see your legs, spread and bordering his firm thighs, and in between, your heated core pressed against his prominent bulge. He bit his lip, trembling at the new and pleasurable sensation. “Hoon– did you get hard from drinking– drinking my blood?” You whispered. You sounded flattered and flabbergasted all at once.

Sunghoon felt dread wash upon him. As sexy as the situation was, the explanation was not. He sucked down the humiliation as he opened his mouth to rationalize his sudden spike of arousal. “Vampires do not produce blood. Therefore, when we intake blood, it may rush to certain parts of our bodies. I believe that, with such a– a desirable situation… it effectively decided to trail to my…” He didn’t finish his sentence, letting his newfound virility complete his explanation for him.

You giggled. “Do you– do you want to put it to use, Hoonie?” Your voice dipped down into a velvety purr, and Sunghoon was sure that if he wasn’t a vampire, his dick would’ve been instantly up the moment you looked at him with those hooded eyelids. 

“Yes– fuck, yes.” He groaned out, gripping your hips tightly. Your hand tentatively reached down to grope his bulge through his sweats in order to truly feel what you were working with. A small gasp slipped past your open lips as your hand wrapped around his girth– and for the first time that you’ve met Sunghoon, he wasn’t frigid.

“It’s so warm, Hoonie…” You mumbled, your fingers laying over the soft material of his trousers, not quite gripping his clothed cock properly. “I– Can I see it?” You whispered. He nodded, pushing down his sweats and boxers down to his thigh. You gasped as his erection sprung up. It was red, leaking, and full of life.

“Do– do you like it?” He asked, trying to steady his voice so he didn’t seem nervous. You nodded slowly. Your brain was still trying to keep up with the situation– got your blood sucked, now should you suck his dick or…– But your thoughts became useless and all tied down to one thing. Sunghoon’s impressive cock bobbing up and down with every breath he took.

“I like it a lot, Hoonie…” you giggled. You cupped your palm under your chin to spit in it before gliding your enclosed palm down his length. He shuddered, his hips jolting up as soon as your warm hand made contact with his heated shaft. Everything he had learned went out the window– There were no candles or roses prepared, no kissing or making out beforehand either. But if he got to this position, where your delicate hand was stroking him so eagerly, then he guessed he didn’t really need those articles anyways, right?

“Your hand is so soft, Y/N. So warm too– almost as warm as your blood,” he muttered, “You are doing so good…” He hissed through his teeth as your grip tightened on his cock. Even though your spit wasn’t as a sufficient enough lubrication and there was still a bit of friction, he was in his most euphoric state. Sunghoon realized for a second that he would’ve never gotten to experience something so so good and utterly divine if it weren’t for you.

“Love you, baby…” Sunghoon suddenly said to remind you of his genuine affection. You smiled bashfully up at him.

“I love you too, Hoonie…” your voice was so sweet that he could taste it in his mouth. Or maybe it was the taste of your blood still lingering. Regardless, his heart was swelling. He leaned back against the headboard, one large hand flattened on your hip and the other hand bracing his body on the mattress. He was admiring your face, looking at the way you had small indents on your bottom lip from where you bit it and the noticeable flush coming back to your faces. Sunghoon could feel your heartbeat reverberating against your bones– could feel himself within your heartbeat. And he never wanted to feel anything else than this.

“Can I touch you too?” Sunghoon asked softly. You nodded silently, eyebrows wrinkling in concentration as you continued to stroke him. You were more playing with his cock at this point, squeezing your hand in random intervals and intently watching the way precum was beading at the tip with every upward stroke. While you were concentrated, his free hand smoothly made its way to your shorts, pressing two curious fingers up against your clothed cunt. You whimpered, lips curling up in a sensitive pout as your legs twitched together. He pressed harder, observing the way you reacted to his gentle touch.

He jolted as you found your rhythm with your hand, your erratic strokes becoming steady pumps. Your soft palms, slicked with your saliva, was making him dizzy. He felt like all the blood that he sucked out of you was rushing to his dick instead of circulating throughout his body. His hips were gyrating upwards as he absentmindedly chased the pleasure surge. Fuck, it felt like he was about to faint– or die. He’d be fine as long as you kept that firm grip on his cock and kept staring at him so prettily–

“Oh, Hoon!” You gasped. Bursts of his cum erupted from his slit, landing to coat the back of your hands and the sides of your fingers. He swallowed, panting as your hand slowly kept dragging up and down to help ease him from his high.

“Fuck– Oh my Dracula.” He breathed out raggedly. “I did not know that– that it could ever feel this good.”

“You’re telling me you never masturbated in your century of living?” You snorted. He nodded.

“My dick has not been hard since a century ago, babe.” He reminded with a cheeky smile. You giggled, shimmying out of your shorts and pulling down your underwear. You were still a bit shy, but after making Sunghoon fall apart once with just your hand, you were gaining a newfound confidence to pleasure him even more. As soon as you sat back on his thighs to part your legs, it was like all time had stopped for him. His pupils dilated as they stared at your most sacred parts– beautiful and warm and so wet. He licked his lips as a new hunger drummed through his veins. Not a hunger for your blood, but a sudden craving for the sweet nectar your body was producing. He tentatively brought up a finger to rub at your clit, once again recalling what he read in those articles.

“Hoonie– it feels good when you touch there…” You whispered. He swallowed and nodded to acknowledge your words, before extending a second finger to circle your precious bud. You bit your lip as you watched Sunghoon explore your body, his keen eyes trying to catch every single microscopic movement you were making to gauge what was most pleasurable to you. It was endearing, in a way, that a vampire with a century’s worth of knowledge was still able to learn new things.

He daringly used his two fingers to spread your lower lips, revealing your inner parts. You were just wet, so wet that Sunghoon didn’t know what to do with himself. “Going inside…” he muttered as he slowly dipped a finger inside of your hole. He sucked in a breath as your heat sucked in his finger. His digit was wrapped in a warmth so much more heated than your blood. You squirmed, prompting him to keep his left hand firm hand on your knee so that you couldn’t shy away.

“What does it feel like, baby?” He crooned.

“Feels weird– just feels like something is inside, Hoon…” You admitted honestly. With as light as a touch he could possibly muster up, he slowly sunk his finger in deeper until your folds were surrounding the base of his digit. You let out a shaky breath as he pumped in and out– in and out. “Oh– it feels kinda good, Hoon… your finger is so long…” You smiled, feeling his fingertip prodding around inside of you. He eased in a second finger before realizing that he hasn’t even kissed you yet. He awkwardly craned his neck to peck your nose before placing a soft and tender kiss to your lips.

“Tell me how it feels– if it feels good or bad. I want to know everything about what your body likes.” Sunghoon’s breath fanned out against his lips before it disappeared as he pulled back. You nodded, a hiccup stuck in your throat as his fingers twisted around and curled upwards.

“Feels good, Hoon. Your– your fingers feel really good… and it feels even better because it’s you,” you mumbled, your hips beginning its chase towards his hand. “I love you…”

“I love you too,” he responded instantly. It would be a major offense if he let you say it with even a millisecond between his own affirmation of affection. “I want you to– to finish for me. Just as you let me for you.” He licked his lips, thick eyebrows furrowing towards his nose bridge as he pressed in a third finger. “Can you do that for me, please?” He smiled with all of his teeth, showing off his sharp fangs. You swallowed and nodded, letting out soft pants as your body rocked up and down, essentially grinding down on his three fingers.

“Yes– yes, I can, Hoonie. I can…” You whimpered. You sounded so delicious, soft whines escaping your lips that rang melodious in his keen ears. Your tight heat was clenching around his fingers, choking them with how much you were clenching down. It was odd and overwhelming all at once, a sensation that Sunghoon internally promised to explore more. “Hoonie– I think ‘m gonna come.” You breathed out, high in your throat. “I’m coming– Hoonie– ah!” You shrieked, nimble fingers gripping at his wrists as your hips gave one last jolt. He kissed your cheek gently, using his plump lips to ground you as you came. He gave you one, two, three more pumps of his fingers before easing them out of you.

“Are you okay? Is it good?” He eyed the way your legs were trembling, and your hips were still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You smiled and nodded. He looked at his fingers, coated in your viscous release. Your natural, musky scent was enticing. Enticing enough to eat. He lapped at his fingers, groaning as the delicious taste of your fluids spread across his tongue. You let out a whimper at the sexy sight, your hole clenching as a new spike of arousal hit your core.

“Sunghoon, can– can you go inside…?” Your eyes drifted down to your boyfriend’s hard cock, ready to go again.

He nodded, whispering out a few, “Yeah, yes– yeah…” as if trying to soothe himself before the final entree of your three course sex meal. “Do you think it will be easier for you to sit on it? Or on your back?” He asked, skimming his fingertips across your bare thigh. You licked your lips. It would’ve been easier to take it on your back, but really, you wanted to be on top of Sunghoon and make him lose control, just as he almost had when his face was buried in your neck.

“Can I ride you, Hoonie?” You asked sweetly. He closed his heads, his head slumping forward with a more audible groan.

“Yes– fuck, yes. You can do anything you want to me,” he muttered. You sat up with your knees, adjusting your body until your dripping heat was hovering over his erection. You bit your lip as you gripped his impressive size by the base, steadying it so that you could sloooowwwlyyyy sink down. You winced as your hole began stretching around his thick tip, causing his hands to shoot up and grip your hips.

“Are you okay, baby? Does it hurt?” He tried not to panic, but you could tell he was worrying by the tremor in his voice.

“A little– it’s okay, Hoon. I just have to get used to it,” you said through shaky breaths. He steadied your trembling body, allowing you to lower yourself at your own pace.

“There we go, baby… It is okay… you are doing so well…” he leaned forward to whisper praises in your ear, breath hot against your sensitive skin. “There we go, taking me so good. Just go slow– little by little. I am here for you. We can stop at any time…” he mumbled, trying to ease your body so it could relax and open up even more for him. Airy moans slipped past your parted lips as you gradually got adjusted to his size, your tight cunt taking one inch, then two, and then another until eventually, you were seated on his lap and filled to the brim with his fat cock.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Sunghoon thought he’s never cursed this much in his life up until this moment. Your warm insides were wrapped around him so tightly that, if his body had proper circulation, he was sure that your pussy would have cut it off by now. Your inner walls were massaging his length, feeling up against the ridges of his translucent veins and bringing him a pleasure greater than intaking blood.

“Sunghoon!” You kept gasping out chants of his name, your thighs quivering so much that he he didn’t know what to do. Your two palms kept themselves steady on his chest, bracing your entire body as it adjusted to his cock.

“It is okay, baby. You’re doing so well…” He kissed the side of your cheek, peppering the expanse of skin with soft pecks. “There we go– just sit still. Move when you are ready.”  He cooed. You nodded, tears pooling in your waterline as you squirmed around, trying your best to get used to the overwhelming and new feeling of being so fucking full. Soft grunts spilled from your lips as you slowly ascended, and Sunghoon felt like he was being turned again with how much was hitting every part of his nerve. Your slick walls gripped him as you pulled up, sucking him in as if they never wanted to get off of him. He hissed, a hand flying to rest on your hip.

“Hoon– Hoonie, kiss please…” You whined, sounding so utterly undone and pathetic that, as if by magnetic force, his lips immediately attracted themselves to yours. Your hips rolled forward, prompting a groan to pass his parted mouth. You moved slowly, feeling Sunghoon’s girth press up against your walls, moving around to map around every single bit of your insides.

Your kisses became uncoordinated, your lips moving from his mouth to its corners, before falling down to his jaw until you eventually latched onto his neck. Your sweet pecks turned into harsher sucking, and then Sunghoon felt something oddly familiar. You were biting down on his neck, as if you had fangs of your own. The thought made him impossibly harder, imagining your tiny mouth crowded by sharp canines and glaring back at him with red irises. He huffed as he craned his neck back to allow you to mouth at his skin. He smoothed down your hair as he felt you try to suck a mark to imprint your touch– it was in vain, but it was so endearing to him.

A foreign tightness began to coil up in his lower gut. Your movements were becoming erratic now– your hips running towards your peak like a chicken with its head cut off. Your fingertips weren’t holding his biceps anymore, instead your fingers curled until your nails were indenting crescents into his muscles. “Hoon– Hoon…” you mewled incessantly, as if it would kill you if you stopped making such lewd sounds. Your vision was blurring again, and you could feel the wetness of a tear rolling down your cheek. Sunghoon’s thumb gently came up to wipe it away before his large palm encompassed the expanse of your cheek.

“There we go… My baby is so pretty, chasing her pleasure. That is it– come on.” He choked out, his breathing heavier than he wanted it to sound. He squeezed his eyes shut and gulped before letting out a loud exhale as you clenched around him. Fuck it. Sounding seductive and in control was the least of his concern. Not when his beautiful girlfriend was riding him like a champ.

Everything was so fucking warm– your bodies, the air, and especially your blood. When Sunghoon breathed in the hot and heavy atmosphere, the aroma of your sweet, sweet elixir of life made him dizzy. His mind was clouded. Nothing could ever come close to this intoxicating feeling– not even having a second taste of your blood could compare to the feeling of your insides fucking milking him for everything he had. With a load grunt, Sunghoon lurched forward, burying himself into the deepest parts of your insides as he came.

You gasped his name, but Sunghoon could barely register it. His head was ringing as more warmth spurted from his cock, coating your insides white. He hissed, a thumb drawing to your pretty bud to rub you, wanting you to follow him to the finish line. And with a few uncoordinated circles, your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him into your sweaty embrace as you came around his cock.

“Hoon– Hoon, fuck, I love you so much!” You squealed, nearly incoherent. He didn’t care that you were nearly suffocating him with your tight hug because all he wanted was to feel your tight heat come around him– again again and again. But against his desires, he pulled out, leaving his cum to drip out of your cunt.

“Oh– I was not supposed to finish inside,” he muttered, eyes blown wide. You giggled and pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek as you sat against his thighs.

“It’s okay, Hoon.” You hummed, cupping his face gently. The warmth from his skin slowly began to dissipate, leaving behind the pale boyfriend that you were so accustomed to. You caressed his soft, cold skin with a loving smile on your lips before pecking his own. “I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, leaving a grin in its wake.

“I love you too…” he murmured back.

Being a vampire was tedious.

But if this is where immortality had led him to– a sweet girlfriend with even sweeter blood– then he guessed he could live with it for another century or two.

[soulenha]

Fic recommendations from your Pretty Hazel!! [Because I read so many and I save all the good ones]

Check them out and give these amazing authors some love!!

❤︎ Heeseung

Double take | @heetaki - fake dating, rivals to lovers, slow burn | wc - 20k

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❤︎ Jake

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❤︎ Jungwon

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Pretty young thing | @dazedinadream - downbad!riki, younger riki, age gap | wc - 23k

I really loved all of these and some more but I couldn't find some fics soooo here!!! I really wanted to give this to yall so you can read and enjoy this too because I really really did. Bye my lovess!!!

[iluvrikii]

you posted a pic w your boyfriend and a random guy complimented you (they get jealous) ‧｡🍓༉ ‧₊˚

author: i hope you guys like it !! i'm thinking to start a new text messages story but idk with whoo from enhypen and which type of story it should be ... if you guys have any ideas/wishes pls lmk <3 mwah ily.

[soulenha]

Birthday gift ✴ 박성훈

𑣲⋆ Park Sunghoon ❤︎ Fem!reader ✴ smut reader is post partum of 8 months hard!dom Sunghoon reader is lowkgenuinely a freak too

💭 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 2670 ⋆˚࿔ ꒰ smut ꒱ 💌 » Request

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍 ✴ The doctor forbade you to have any intimacy for the first 7-8 months of after birth, so you had to deny your husband's needs. But on the eighth month on his birthday, you decided to let him have his gift just like he pleases.

Warning : 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 : oral [f rec] harddom!sunghoon degradation multiple orgasms rough sex unprotected sex [not for you] lactation kink pussydrunk!sunghoon breeding kink creampie nipple play tongue fucking pussy spanking sunghoon is a freak squirting teasing cun eating finger sucking [lord forgive me]

🪷° Haze notes : Ok- please do not judge me cuz I might have gotten carried away while writing this. Blame my horny ass- [not proofread]

“I'll wait for you, love. You need your rest.” Your husband, Park Sunghoon smiled, pressing little pecks on your forehead. You had just given birth five months ago, your little angel arriving on earth. 

But since you had complications during birth, the doctors advised you to stay away from any sexual activities for the next 9 months for your body to be strong enough to start getting ready for those activities again. Your wounds healed in the first two weeks, but your body pained with every step you took. 

Hence even though you felt extremely guilty and sad because you couldn't take care of your husband's needs even though you wanted to. Sunghoon had always been needy with you, needing to be intimate at least twice a week to function properly. 

So having to deny him for months? Your heart twisted painfully but his reassuring words eased you a little. He spared no effort in your care. Always got up alongside you when your daughter started crying at night, cradling her to sleep. Taking care of all your needs and medications for your speedy recovery. 

You know it was his job as your husband to take care of you and your child naturally, but seeing him in that nature always had heat pooling between your thighs. 

So at last, you made a decision. His birthday was in a week and you had already been waiting for 7 months now, your body feeling much stronger now that you had almost little to no stress. And for that, you wanted to reward your sweet husband with a surprise. 

So you planned the perfect gift for his birthday. 

— 

“Ppa!” Your daughter cooed, her arms reaching to grab a bite from your husband's plate while you chuckled looking at the scene. You planned a little dinner family date for him. “Papa needs to eat his food, baby.” You put her little spoon near mouth, feeding her the last bites as you finish your meal at the same time. 

Sunghoon was simply smiling at his two angels, chuckling and humming with content. “My little family..” You raise your eyebrow with a smile and look at him. “Hmm? Did you say something, love?” 

Sunghoon just shook his head and looked at you with the same eyes of love. Well, only on the outside. 

Only you knew his eyes lingering down your face every time you looked away, dropping to your lips or chest. You had particularly dolled up for him on the special occasion of his birthday because after your delivery, you hadn't worn a pretty pink body con with ribbons on your wrist and neck. 

He missed you dressing up like that for him and seeing you finally do that after months, especially on his birthday, he couldn't help but get incredibly turned on by it. 

But he managed to calm himself down and maintain a stern look on the outside so no one notices his internal struggles. Except, you did. Because you knew him the best. 

After the dinner, all of you sat in the car as Sunghoon drove back home. The car eased into a comfortable silence with the gentle lullaby you were humming to get your little daughter to fall asleep.

“I love you both,” Your husband suddenly confessed, a light blush flushing his cheeks. “I mean it..” You glance at him while humming, giving him the biggest smile and blowing a kiss towards him as you continue to pat your daughter's back, holding her in your arms to help her fall asleep faster.

“We love you too, hoon.. so much.” You grinned, winking at him teasingly. Looking at your playfulness at his sincere words, Sunghoon just shook his head with a smile and continued driving, letting the comfortable silence take over until the both of you reached your little abode. 

—

You had laid your daughter in her room's crib after successfully putting her to sleep in the car, giving you the perfect time to execute your birthday gift for your husband. You had come prepared, already wearing your black lingerie set under your body con. 

After denying him of any intimate moment with you for the past months, this was finally the moment you would let him get his birthday present and a thank you gift. 

While you were gone to your daughter's room, Sunghoon was simply sitting on the bed of your shared room, his white dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his perfect pale body that you drooled over. 

Walking inside the room, you lean on the bed sensually and pick his phone out of his hand, grabbing his attention. “Bab—” You sinfully placed your index finger on his lips, shushing him with a single sound. 

Sunghoon's eyes widened in shock and confusion at your bold moves, his eyes trailing to your figure on the bed. “I have a present for you, love..” You whispered sinfully, leaning right next to his ear and pressed a sensual kiss on his earlobe. 

Your hands trailed down from his lips to his chest. Pushing apart the shirt, you traced your fingers on his warm skin, a contrast to your cold fingertips. You feel him tremble under you, take a sharp inhale at your antics. 

“Y/N..” Sunghoon breathed out, his heart racing under your palm. “What are you doing?” You grin, pressing trails on kisses down his neck, reaching his sweet spot when he jerked as soon as your lips made contact with that spot. “What? I'm just kissing you~” You chuckle and caress his abs, feeling them contract under your hands. 

“Keep this up and I will lose control, darling.” You hear his breathing get heavier, his jaw clenching as soft grunts escaped him. He was cracking under you, almost giving into the desire. 

“Lose.. your.. control.”

His hands grabbed your waist instantly, slamming you down onto the bed as he sprawled upon you, pressing his elbows down on the bed so he doesn't crush you. “Is this my gift?” He frowned, looking at you with desire and lust. “Is this what you prepared for me, love? For me to use you like a slut?” 

You whimpered at his degradation, heat pooling between your thighs as you squirmed under him. “I'm your gift, hoon.. Have me tonight.” That was all he needed to rip your pretty pink dress in an instant, not caring if you liked it or not because he could buy you thousands more. 

His eyes darkened when they took in your lingerie set, the pink ribbon having a beautiful contrast against the black lace. “Fuck.. all this for me, Y/N? You were preparing..” He observed more to himself than you, his hands reaching your hips to steady you from squirming as he slammed his lips onto yours, devouring you. 

You moaned into the kiss, your hands flying to his hair, messing it up deliciously. He groaned at the feeling, gently nibbing at your lower lip for permission which you granted. His tongue tore its way into your mouth, clashing with yours while you felt his hard-on press against your stomach. 

Your hips automatically jerked up to rub against his, needing the fiction but his hands had you pinned to the bed. “So sweet..” Sunghoon moved to your neck, sucking and leaving trails of hickeys while you tried your hardest to muffle your loud moans so it didn't wake up your daughter. 

“Fuck, I needed this.” He groaned, biting down on your shoulder and kissing it better as you scream his name, your eyes squeezed shut. Your panty was now completely soaked, your slick leaking down your thighs while you tried your best to not come just from him kissing you. 

His lips found their way to your clothed nipples, biting and sucking on it, trying to get the milk out. You moaned and thrashed under him, begging him to take your bra off which he finally entertained, throwing the lace fabric off your chest before latching onto your nipples again, sucking hard enough to draw milk. 

“Sung—ahh!!” You gasp and throw your head back as he sucked on your breast milk, moaning as his mouth filled to the brim. You didn't know he had a lactation kink, but apparently he did. And you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. “Fuck—s’ good, more—” His hands left your hips to cup your chest, pumping out more milk from you to drink while his other hand pinched your other nipple, giving it the same attention. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head with the sinful mix of pleasure and pain. You had let him do anything to you, and now you wanted nothing more but to be ruined by him. 

After getting his fill, his lips trailed down to your stomach as he rubbed both your nipples, pinching them harshly. Your hips thrusted into him, needing the fiction but you were met with a loud slap on your soft breasts. “Stay still, slut.” You whimper and tremble under him, your eyes filling with tears with need. 

“Ple—hoon!” He reached your clothed clit, teasing it by not giving it any attention but instead teased you by kissing your inner thighs, not where you wanted. Your arousal right in front of his face was driving him insane, needing to bury his face in your dripping cunt and suck you out. 

“Hoon please—take it off!” You beg, whining as your fingers push him towards your needy core. Finally, your dear husband gave in and ripped the panty off your pussy, diving straight into your dripping cunt. 

Your back arched off the bed, fingers clenching his hair tightly because for the first time in months, you had his mouth of your sensitive cunt, dripping to be devoured by your husband. And he? He didn't disappoint. 

Within minutes you reached your first high, grinding on his tongue as you muffle your scream and fell apart on his mouth, trembling as Sunghoon lapped up every drop without stopping. “Already, baby? I need more.” He didn't let you catch your breath before he dove back in, licking up your clit before shoving his tongue in and out of your needy hole, fucking you on his tongue. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure ecstasy, your hands flying to your mouth as your thighs clamped around his head, trying to close itself but Sunghoon just pulled them apart, sucking you dry.

“Give me one more, sweet. One more.” He pulled his tongue to your clit and slammed two digits into your needy cunt, moaning as it greedily sucked it further in. He groaned when your walls clenched around his fingers. “Fuck, this cunt knows who it belongs to.” 

You muffle your scream and alert him about another wave, already feeling it building much stronger than the last. Sunghoon doubled his efforts, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, getting high because of the taste of your pussy, not wanting to detach from it for even a second. 

“Give it to me.” You shattered around his fingers, clenching him hard around his fingers as your thighs trapped his head between your legs. He continued to suck and bite your clit, helping you ride your high before he finally pulled back, going back in every few seconds because he couldn't stay away.

You lay limp on the bed, panting heavily but your pussy needed more, clenching around nothing after Sunghoon pulled his fingers out with a wet pop. “Such a needy pussy, look at you slut.” He mocked, giving your folds a sharp slap, causing you to jerk up in surprise. 

“Hoon—ahg!” You yelped as he spanked it again, watching your folds turn red. “Need to be inside this dripping pussy.” 

Before you could even register what was happening, you were placed on your knees on the bed with your hands on the headboard. You hear Sunghoon remove his pants and pull out his thick red cock, giving it a few rough strokes. 

“Do you want it, love?” You hear him taunt you, slapping his veiny cock on your ass before he forces it between your thighs, not inside you, just making you ride his cock as your slick lubricated it. “Yes—fuck honey please—hoon I want it—” 

He groaned gleefully, loving how submissive you always were. His hands trailed up to the ribbon on your neck as he tugged it back hard, forcing your mouth open as your head rested on his chest. “Good girl.” He spat in your open mouth, watching you obediently swallow it and push out your tongue was all he needed to drive his cock into your hole, slamming all the way in. 

You couldn't even muffle the scream you let out in that moment, praying to dear god that your room and your baby's room was sound proof so she wouldn't wake up. 

He instantly understood your worry even during that moment and assured you that the room is soundproof and their child wouldn't be disturbed. “Focus on me, slut, or I won't let you come.” You whimper and grind back on his cock, feeling the length stretch you incredibly.  

“Mo-move! Ple—hoon please!” Your teary eyes shot instant pleasure to his cock as he pulled his shaft all the way out before slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm before picking up his pace. 

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, mixed with your moans and his grunts as you clamp down on his cock, clenching it inside you. The rub on the gummy walls from his cock was what you craved for months, finally feeling the same ecstasy you had once again gotten addicted to. “Fuccc—hoon! omg—please!” Your tears fall from the intensity of his thrusts. 

He spit on your mouth once more, his arm wralling around your waist to keep you from collapsing while the other arm snakes around your thigh, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your brain turned into a complete mush as Sunghoon used your body as a personal fleshlight, driving into you with a force he never used. 

“Come on my cock, slut. Milk me dry.” You grab the headboard for dear life when you came the hardest you had so far, squirting onto his cock while he continued thrusting into you. “Fuc—thats it!” With a final few thrusts, Sunghoon filled you to the brim with his cock, kissing your g-spot with his tip as he shot out thick spurts of cum inside you, thrusting slightly to push it further. 

“Fuck, take all that in, slut. I'll put a fucking baby in you again.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mouth falling in a silent o as you trembled under him. “Fucking take it, good girl.” 

The both of you collapsed on the bed, panting heavily after the intense intimacy. “The best birthday gift ever..”, You couldn't even speak, your throat was too hoarse from all the screaming. You simply turned towards him, whimpering softly at the loss of his cock in your hole as he pulled out with a small pop. 

His cum dripped down your thighs, making a mess onto the bedsheets which Sunghoon scooped up with his finger and pushed it inside you, giving you a few gentle thrusts of his finger before forcing it inside your mouth. “Suck it, baby..” You obediently cleaned his fingers, moaning at the taste as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Good girl.. such a good girl for me.” 

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth before kissing you gently. “I love you baby.. Thank you.. for everything..”

You smile, leaning into his cuddles as he wraps his arms around you, pulling the covers over both of you and draping his dress shirt around you to keep you warm.

With the last of your energy, you mumble a small “luv yu too..” before passing out on him. 

Sunghoon chucked, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, letting sleep take over him too.

🏷️ Gen taglist : @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @en-injang @h-eva-n @rikisdiheater @heelvcr @heeddungi @boundlesselixirflux @kristynaaah @mybeloveddiary @daydreamer231 @en-muse @wonderikii @firstclassjaylee @rikisblog @nikisleftside @ttamna @hoonieslove @he-even @in-enha-world @mikqkr0smos @waeclr [21/50] , Join?

©Soulenha 2026 | All rights reserved.

[yeuvio]

VIDEO GAME LOVER ❤︎ 埃文

🐇 𓈒 his number one fan.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾 𝗑 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝒻.𝗋𝖾𝖺 ‎✶ 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 🎧୨ৎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

reblog ◜ᯅ◝kisses

more under cut!

[xorikisan]

ㅤㅤ𝟎𝟎𝟐ㅤ────ㅤ𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡ㅤ✷ㅤ𝓛𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗦

ㅤㅤㅤ𝑓. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 & 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 (𝗈𝗍𝟩) ㅤ𓂋 ㅤ𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇!𝖽𝗈𝗆&𝗌𝗎𝖻 (𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌), 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇!𝖻𝖿, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝖻, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 .ᐟ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖾.

ㅤ˗ˋ🥛ㅤ✶ㅤ𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝟧𝟢𝟢 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾... 𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒. 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝗈𝗍𝟩 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 (𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝟩 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾;-;). 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 😗ㅤ𓈒 𓈒ㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖷 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌. 𝖨𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ♥︎

ㅤ❤︎ㅤ─ㅤ𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌.

𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗀𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗒 ❤︎

𝗝𝗔𝗬

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗍 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒

𝗝𝗔𝗞𝗘

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒" ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒" ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗒𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗈 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 ❤︎

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝖼𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉

𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇

© 𝗑𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇ㅤ𝓁.ㅤ𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌ㅤ. 🥛 ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[xorikisan]

ㅤㅤ𝟎𝟎𝟐ㅤ────ㅤ𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡ㅤ✷ㅤ𝓛𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗦

ㅤㅤㅤ𝑓. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 & 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 (𝗈𝗍𝟩) ㅤ𓂋 ㅤ𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇!𝖽𝗈𝗆&𝗌𝗎𝖻 (𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌), 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇!𝖻𝖿, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝖻, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 .ᐟ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖾.

ㅤ˗ˋ🥛ㅤ✶ㅤ𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝟧𝟢𝟢 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾... 𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒. 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝗈𝗍𝟩 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 (𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝟩 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾;-;). 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 😗ㅤ𓈒 𓈒ㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖷 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌. 𝖨𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗀𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ♥︎

ㅤ❤︎ㅤ─ㅤ𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌.

𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗀𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗒 ❤︎

𝗝𝗔𝗬

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗍 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒

𝗝𝗔𝗞𝗘

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒" ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒" ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗒𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗈 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 ❤︎

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ"𝖼𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗌 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉

𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 ❤︎ ㅤ❀ㅤܢ🥛ㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇

© 𝗑𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇ㅤ𝓁.ㅤ𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌ㅤ. 🥛 ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[audreyyyml]

sunki audio? bottom sunoo & top Niki 🙏

Sorry for the late response, I was at work 💔 but that’s no excuse here ml ᰔᩚ

NSFW! 18+ Nishimura. Riki, Kim. Sunoo audio!

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝓀𝒾

*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ

Dom!NR Sub!KS } Riki confessioned his love to Sunoo... But he rejected Riki because he was just a kid in his eyes. Only later in the night while all the members slept, Riki snuck into Sunoos room... 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘸 '𝘬𝘪𝘥' 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦.

*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥!

*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ*:..｡₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ

[lassiie]

Power Play pt.2 sub!boss!Jake x co-worker!dom reader (ft.jay)

CONTENT ↠ nsfw! long fiction with smut!, sub Jake, dom reader, needy sub attitude, power play, sexual tension, worship/mommy kink, toys, edging, cum denial, servitude kink, head recieving, overstimulation, premature climax, degradation play, rope, fluff and romance (what should i say i'm a romantic...),yapper Jake is my shit, feat Jay my love !! WC ↠ 11k~

Part 2 of Power Play is here!! (Part.1 here )

It’s been two months since Jake Sim — golden manager, corporate darling, quiet wet dream of half the women in the building — officially became yours. Not yours in the polite, romantic, LinkedIn-appropriate way. No. Yours in the real, stripped-down under-the-table kind of way. Yours like : “get on your knees and don’t speak unless I let you.” Yours like: “you’ll cum when I say so — not a second before.” And he’d thanked you for it. Every fucking time. His eyes glossy, mouth open, gratitude pouring off him like sweat.

You’re dom and sub now. Officially! And the active kind, not the online-inspo-board, “I call him sir on weekends” kind. You’d made it clear from day one that if you were going to do this, it would be structured, with intention. You’re a professional after all. PowerPoint-level organization, calendar reminders, one session per week— minimum—On Friday night. Penciled between boardroom battles and email chains that could kill a man.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about rules. Because Jake... Yeah, Jake freaking Sim was not just a perfect boss. And not just a needy sub begging to be ruined. He also was—and god help you— one of the cutest men alive.

You noticed it one Sunday, when he spent twenty quiet minutes fidgeting with your nails, a dumb smile on his face, while you both watched a documentary on Roman history. Then again the next week, when he curled up against you with a book in one hand and the other idly tugging at your hoodie string like a cat in a sunbeam. And don’t even get started on the nipple thing. It was endearing until it wasn’t—until one night he got so carried away stroking and pinching slowly harder and harder, that your tits actually hurt the next morning, and you had to ban him from even looking at them without explicit clearance. He apologized with a handwritten note and home somthings that looked like breakfast. You accepted.

So yes, it’s… domestic. Comfortable. The line between scenes and real life began to blur in the softest ways. Now, it’s a habit—to eat together after a particularly brutal night. To shower together and split the loofah like sinners trying to cleanse their sins. You don’t cuddle. Not officially. But he sleeps better with his head on your lap or your belly and your fingers carding through his hair... So you let him.

And at work? Nothing’s changed.

Jake is still the picture of leadership — polished, poised, too damn polite for his own good. And you? You’re still you. Frost-edged, perfectly put together, politely untouchable. But now, he belongs to you. Which makes things easier. Especially on days like today.

Days like this.

flushed like he’s about to combust, back to the wall, eyes wide. You’d texted him mid-meeting, one line, no emoji.

You’ve got four minutes, meet me in the west wing bathroom... Women’s

And he obeyed. Because he always obeys. He slipped in like a shadow, breath already shaky, pupils blown wide with anticipation.

You follow heels sharp on the tile, sliding the lock with a metallic click that might as well have sealed his fate. You don’t speak. Just turn around and corner him, pressing close — so close your chest brushes his tie, your perfume curling around his brain like a noose.

“Pants,” you murmur, voice soft but razor-sharp.

He obeys. Too fast. Belt unbuckled, zipper down, trousers around his knees. You catch a glimpse of the tip — flushed, already leaking. Boxers thin and helpless, no barrier at all.

And then you lean in.

Your hand slides between you — slow, casual — until your palm cups him through the fabric. And god, he whimpers.

Your fingers flex around his cock, pressing, not stroking — just reminding him who owns it. Who decides what he gets, and when. He jerks in your hand like it’s the first time anyone’s ever touched him.

You lean closer, lips against the shell of his ear, and smile.

“You think I brought you in here to suck you off like you were good?”

He twitches. “I—I thought—”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re so far from good.”

From your bag, you pull out a device — a sleek little ring of black silicone and a small chrome design, smooth and sexy. Jake recognizes it immediately. His breath stutters. He looks like he might cry from hope.

“Boxers off.”

They hit the floor instantly.

You kneel, slide the ring over his cock and balls in one practiced motion. And he gasps high and wrecked, nearly collapsing against the stall door. Then you reach into your bag again and lift your phone — screen glowing, the app already open.

His eyes blow wide.

“You’ll wear it through the rest of the day,” you say, tapping the setting labeled 'steady pulse', watching him twitch in real time as the gentle hum starts low. “Meeting starts in ten. If you can hold it together...”

You glance up from beneath your lashes, smile wickedly.

“Dinner’s on me.”

He blinks, almost breathless. Gasping at your finger working the app.

“And tonight,” you whisper, licking your lips just to fuck with him, “you can ask for anything.”

He nods too fast, “Anything?”

You smile.

“Anything your little broken brain can think of, mr. Sim.”

You kiss the tip of his cock, just once to tease him. Enough to make him moan through his gritted teeth.

“Then pull it together,” you whisper, stepping back. “And fix your pants. You’re late.”

Then you leave him there, red-faced and straining, cock caged, soul on fire.

And at 4:05 sharp, Jake Sim enters the conference room with his tie too tight, his glasses perfectly straight, and his eyes locked on the PowerPoint like it’s the only thing keeping him from whimpering.

And you? You take your seat across from him. And just before the first slide clicks onto the screen, you reach for your phone.

Tap.

And watch him flinch. Like he lives for it.

Jake lasts.

Somehow.

Through the entire finance review, even when you tap the “pulse” setting mid-sentence while asking for clarification on Q3 projections — his voice hitching slightly, just enough for only you to notice.

He even makes it through the all-hands. Barely. Sweat beading at his temple, legs clenched tight, knuckles white where he grips his own wrist under the desk like he’s seconds from buckling. You watch him like a hawk, occasionally flicking your phone open just to see that tiny icon still glowing in the corner of the screen. Active. Synced. Steady.

At one point, you accidentally hit the "randomized wave" setting while stirring your coffee. His pen snaps. Just cracks in half, ink bleeding onto his neat notes, a quiet fuck under his breath that no one but you hears.

By the end of the day, he’s twitchy. Soft-eyed. Glazed.

The moment 6:04 hits, your phone buzzes.

🕛 Mr.Sim Jake (Work): I’ll wait in my office Please

No “Miss.” No punctuation. Just that one word, begging inside its own silence. Please.

You don’t respond. Just close your laptop, smooth your blouse, reapply your lipstick like you’re heading into a negotiation — because in a way, you are. He thinks this is his reward. That he’s about to be used, broken, maybe allowed release if he grovels right.

But you’re not done yet.

You step into his office without knocking, and what greets you nearly makes you laugh.

Jake Sim — polished, professional, always composed — is on the fucking floor.

On. The. Floor.

Suit jacket gone, tie loose and twisted, hair disheveled, pants unbuckled, boxer-briefs pulled taut around his thighs, cock flushed violently red and still caged in that perfect black ring. He’s clutching the carpet like it’ll ground him, gasping, hips twitching like he’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

And the second he sees you?

He looks wrecked. Worshipful. Pathetic.

You shut the door behind you and tilt your head like a curious cat.

“You couldn’t even wait on your feet?”

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I just— I can’t—”

You wave a hand. Dismissive. “No time for that, baby. I still have work.”

He blinks, like you slapped him with math.

You walk past him — slow, commanding, letting your heels click like a countdown to chaos — and sink onto the couch near the side wall, crossing your legs as if you’re just here to decompress.

From your bag, you pull a slim folder of papers.

“Come here,” you say, tapping the floor in front of the coffee table. “You’re still my superior, aren’t you? Gotta review these before I file.”

Jake crawls.

He actually crawls.

And kneels beside the low table, hands resting obediently on his thighs, lips parted as if he might start panting again. His cock twitches visibly in its ring — red, aching, wet at the tip. You ignore it.

Open the folder.

“You’re going to validate each paragraph for me, Mr. Sim. Verbally.”

He nods quickly.

You start reading aloud. Slowly. Bored, almost.

“Based on the Q2 metrics, we project a 12.4% increase in productivity following the onboarding of—”

“Yes,” he breathes.

One paragraph down.

You scroll your thumb across your phone. Vibrations hum through him.

Next one.

“The reduction in turnaround time aligns with adjusted expectations from last quarter—”

“Yes—” he gasps. A little too breathy.

And then you flick to a new setting. One you’ve been saving.

You hit “Voice Sync Mode.”

Jake twitches violently.

“Oh, right,” you say casually, tapping again. “Almost forgot. New feature. Vibrates based on… voice modulation. Funny, huh?”

You lower your tone, let it dip low and rich.

Jake bucks. Just slightly. Eyes wide, mouth open.

“Say yes for this one.”

“Yes,” he moans.

It triggers again. His hips stutter.

You keep reading. Keep your voice smooth, varied, slightly sing-song in parts just to fuck with him. Every line, every syllable — translated into chaos below the belt.

And he starts losing it.

“Yes,” he pants after every paragraph. Louder. Shakier. More breath than voice now. His hands twitch off his thighs, one dragging toward his cock before he jerks it back with a choked sob like he knows the rules.

By paragraph five, his voice cracks. By seven, he’s humping the air — subtle at first, then not. His head drops to your thigh like it’s the only safe place left on Earth, and he starts rubbing his cheek there. Like a cat in heat. Like a man desperate for grounding in a world that’s unraveling by the second.

You keep reading.

“Final page. If you can make it through—”

But he can’t.

He shudders.

One strangled, broken cry leaves his throat, and you feel the warmth of it — the twitch, the helpless thrust — and then he’s gone. Cumming in his briefs, thick and shameful, whimpering into your thigh, his whole body trembling like a fault line.

You don’t say anything.

Just gently stroke his hair.

Let him breathe.

Let him twitch and shake and sigh into the afterglow like a man who just gave up every ounce of pride he had left and didn’t even want it back.

And when the silence settles, heavy and warm, you finally speak — voice soft, back to that dangerous kind of care that feels more intimate than any orgasm ever could.

“You tried your best,” you murmur, brushing his hair off his forehead. He nods against your leg, ruined.

“Good boy.” Another whimper.

You glance at the clock. Pick up your folder.

“I’m heading home,” you say lightly, gathering your things. “Sleep. Hydrate. Lock the door if you’re gonna clean up here.”

And then you left him there kneeling, soaked, still wearing your ring, like the good little office pet he is.

You couldn’t play on Saturday.

Not because you were too busy, or tired, or felt the shift in the weather deep in your bones — though the forecast did have the nerve to threaten rain just as you left the office. No. You couldn’t play because Saturday, in some inconvenient act of cosmic irony, was your birthday.

A day you kept quiet. Deliberately. Not out of shame, or fear of getting older — god, no. You wore your age like you wore everything else: sharp, polished, with just enough bite to make people hesitate before asking anything too personal. You didn’t need celebration. You had plans to do absolutely nothing. Maybe a glass of wine. Maybe an orgasm. Maybe both at once. Alone.

But Jake, your painfully attentive, painfully eager, painfully good boy Jake… caught on.

You didn’t tell him.

He just knew.

And on Sunday, he asked if you’d still be willing to play. But — and this was where it got suspicious — he asked if you’d have dinner with him first. “Before the session,” he said, too casually. “Just us. I’ll text you the address.”

You agreed. Not thinking much of it.

Until you got there.

Until your heels clicked down the pristine marble hallway of a hotel that had no business being that opulent on a Sunday evening, and the concierge greeted you by name.

Until the elevator opened onto a private suite, and the door — already slightly ajar — creaked open with a whisper.

And there it was.

The dining table, perfectly set beneath dimmed golden lights, with soft music curling through the room like warmth in smoke. Low candles. A bouquet of white orchids. A bottle of red you’d once mentioned liking, twice, months ago. And at the center of the table — a cake. Small. Elegant. Iced in cream. With a single candle.

Jake stood by the far wall, hands behind his back, nervous in a way that didn’t suit him — cheeks pink, eyes flicking toward you like he’d been rehearsing this and still thought he’d fuck it up.

And then.

He sang.

Voice soft, slightly off-key, barely above a whisper — like it wasn’t meant to echo off the chandelier or the crystal glasses. Just for you. Just between the two of you.

Happy birthday to you.

You blinked once. Then again. A breath caught somewhere near your collarbone.

He smiled when he finished. And when you didn’t respond right away, he stepped forward, one hand awkwardly lifting the cake toward you like a shy waiter on his first day.

“It’s got that cream you like,” he said quietly. “Not too sweet. Just—like you.”

And you laughed. You had to. Because this man, this man who moans at your feet with your heel on his throat, just called you not too sweet like that was a compliment.

The dinner was incredible, of course. Not because of the food — though it was excellent — but because of him. Because Jake was attentive in a different way tonight. Still soft. Still sweet. But a little... lighter. He let himself be funny. Made you laugh twice so hard you had to cover your face. His hands trembled when he refilled your glass.

And when dessert came — after the cake, after a gentle toast, after your walls had lowered inch by inch without you realizing — he handed you a gift box.

Long. Sleek. Heavy.

You opened it, and froze.

Thin, stiletto-pointed, patent black high heels.

The expensive kind.

The fucked-up expensive kind.

The kind you’d once pointed at in a store window, laughed, and said, “The only way I’d justify those is if I was allowed to use them to stomp on someone. Otherwise, that price tag is a war crime.”

Jake hadn’t forgotten.

“I remembered,” he said, eyes wide and proud and so goddamn hopeful. “I know it’s kind of dramatic, but you—you said it. And I thought maybe…”

You raised a brow.

“You bought me shoes so I’d step on you?”

He flushed. “N-not just that. I mean—yes. But also… I thought you’d look good in them.”

You stared at him. At the shoes. At the man sitting across from you in a tailored shirt and a slightly shaky smile like he just handed you his throat in a velvet box.

And then you laughed. Low. Delighted.

“Oh, Jake,” you sighed, sliding one heel out of its bed of tissue paper. “You’re so easy.”

His breath hitched.

“You want me to try them on?”

He nodded. Fast. Almost trembling.

So you did. Slowly. Letting the heel dangle on your finger like a weapon before lifting your leg, extending it toward him under the table.

He didn’t even have to be asked. He slid to his knees beside your chair and took your foot in both hands — reverent. Careful. Slipping the shoe on like a prince in a fucked-up fairytale, except he was the one being ruined.

The heel clicked against the floor when you set it down.

He shuddered.

“Do the other,” you murmured, tone already turning silkier, darker.

He obeyed. You leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, watching him fumble slightly with the strap, his breath shallow, fingers lingering just a little too long at your ankle.

You reached down — ran your fingers through his hair, soft and slow — and he melted into the touch like you’d blessed him.

“You’re so predictable,” you whispered, dragging a nail against his scalp. “You see me in new shoes and your first thought is: God, I hope she steps on my cock with them.”

He whined. Whined.

“You’re disgusting,” you added, voice lowering to that tone that made him squirm. “And I’m going to ruin you for thinking you deserved them.”

His eyes fluttered shut and his lips streached in a soft smile. But your fingers didn’t stop stroking. Didn’t stop soothing.

They moved gently through Jake’s hair — soft little passes, nails grazing his scalp. And he leaned into it without thinking, without pride. Just instinct. Like his head was meant to be there, pressed against your thigh, like your hand had become some sacred thing in his world—the thing that settled him, grounded him, reminded him he was owned.

You watched him breathe.

Watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the trembling hush in his chest — like he couldn’t tell if this was aftercare or the beginning of something worse. And quietly, without words, something warm started to bloom beneath your ribs.

It wasn't just the usual heat and lust. Not the thrill of control you usually fed off of. No, this was quieter, closer to peace. And it wasn't the first time the past two month...

Like, somehow, this— the candlelight, the new shoes, his mouth against your thigh— was exactly where you were supposed to be.

You almost thought it aloud... But no... Nevermind...

Instead, you hummed softly and let your other hand trail down to his cheek, tilting his chin up so he is forced to look at you. He did. Of course he did. Eyes wide and glassy, like something holy had cracked open inside him and spilled out right onto the hotel carpet.

“Remember what I said on Friday?” you murmured. “About rewards?”

Jake blinked, dazed. “Y-yes." His lips parted.

“I said if you were good, you could ask for anything.”

He nodded quickly, eager, already breathing faster.

“And tonight?” You smiled. “You were very, very, very good. Jake.”

Jake’s breath caught, fuck he loves it when you drop the mr. Sim act.

His hands— those shaky, fidgeting, obedient sexy hands— lifted toward his own lap, smoothing his pants like he was trying to behave, trying to stay calm, but already failed. His gaze dropped. He tried to keep eye contact, you know, tried to stay confident. But the moment you gave him permission— real permission— to speak his wants out loud?

He cracked.

“I… um… if I’ve really been good,” he whispered, voice a little pitched, “C-can I…” He hesitated. Swallowed, his eyes on your thighs adjusting himself like it prevented you from seing his hard on.

“Can I eat you out again? it's been ages... I want to make you cum, like before. But like, now. On the floor. Or the couch. Or the bed. Wherever. Please—I'll be good, I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow, and smile streached.

“Is that your first wish?” He nodded hesitant. But then his mouth opened again.

Of course...

“And maybe—maybe I could wear the collar? While I do it? Like... Just the collar and nothing else... Like your—your birthday toy.” Y-you can even put me on a leash if you want— please, I’ll be good, I won’t hump your leg unless you let me—”

You bit your bottom lip, just to keep from smiling even more. Man, his brain had slipped its leash the second you gave him permission. It made you wet straightaway.

“And can I… can I touch myself? Not cum, just—just stroke while I do it. Just feel how hard I get from tasting you. And when I finish, you don’t even have to let me cum, you could just—just spit in my mouth and call me your good little fuckhole—”

You didn’t answer. Just kept petting his hair. But he can read you better than you do to him. You don't realise how turned on your face is. Even your grip on his fluffy hair got harder. Fuck, Jake loves you.

Yeah... I love you. Jake bit his lip.

“Or—or you could make me jerk off onto the floor while you watch, and make me beg to make love with you. Like I’m disgusting. Like I don’t even deserve your attention unless I earn it—Or maybe… if I’m really good—”

He stop.

You press your fingers to his lips and he trailed off, eyes fluttered. slidding your finger inbetween his shy plump lips. It was like even saying it was too much. Like he didn't already write the whole fiction of tonight in his head.

“Tell me, Jake.”

He looked down again, cheeks flushed, voice almost too small to hear.

“Can I... Call you Mommy tonight?”

Silence. Tense. Heavy. Drenched in anticipation.

"I know it's not really your thing..." he blabered, "But I was wondering—if maybe... We could try tonight.

Then—

You leaned in, brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, and smiled.

“Oh, my cute puppy,” you purred, letting the word drag like honey down your throat. “You’re going to get everything you asked for.”

He whimpered. Like the word alone undid him. His breath came hot and shaky against your palm. His eyes looked up at you, fully gone — feral, hungry, a little stupid with need. Like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and beg for permission to exist there.

You sank back into the chair like it was your throne — one leg draped over the other in a lazy cross, elbow resting along the back like you had all the time in the world, like you weren’t already wet just from the look on his face — and without a word, you lifted your foot, the sharp new heel catching the light as it hovered by his lips, until he opened up like a trained thing and started mouthing at the pointed tip, desperate, reverent, like kissing your shoe might earn him oxygen.

“Jake, take off your clothes.”

He scrambled.

Shoes. Shirt. Pants. Everything peeled off with frantic sexiness, like each layer was an offense to the role he was meant to play — until he was kneeling there, naked and flushed, chest rising fast, ears pink, cock already half-hard from nothing but the sound of your voice.

And fuck, his body — God, his body — lean and sharp like he was carved from something meant to bleed for you, muscles smooth but defined, not bulked but taut beneath skin that showed every line, every ridge, every twitch. His back, deceptively broad, flexed as he shifted onto his knees, and you caught the way his arms looked almost too toned for someone who claimed to be helpless— the way his veins ran like threads of promise down to those shaking, obedient hands. And when he reached into his bag— of course he brought it, because your good boy always comes prepared— and pulled out his collar without being asked, you nearly sighed, because it was all too much.

Too perfect. Too fucking yours.

He held it out like an offering. And you put it on him. You dragged your heel along his shoulder. He shivered.

“You wanted to worship Mommy tonight?”

He nodded, mouth agape. “Then come show me, be a good dog.”

And when he crawled forward on hands and knees — panting, eyes blown wide, mouth open — you knew : You were going to let him have everything.

Because you loved seeing him like this, loved it... Your game... You... loved him ?

Maybe...

He reached your knees. And then he groaned. Loud and wrecked.

Your panties — soaked. He buried his face in them immediately, moaning into the fabric, licking you through it like he’d been starved for days and finally stumbled upon a feast. You stayed still, head tilted, watching him degrade himself with quiet fascination.

And then he used his teeth — gently at first, then not — dragging the lace aside, tearing holes in the delicate fabric just to get to you, to taste you raw, no barriers, no patience.

The moment his tongue touched your pussy, he let out the most pathetic sound — a sob disguised as a moan — and you saw it in his whole body: the way his arms trembled, the way his shoulders rolled forward, the way his hips twitched helplessly against the carpet.

Like worship was killing him.

He licked with hunger first. Frenzied. Like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth moved fast — messy circles, tongue flattening, then curling, lips sucking at your clit with zero grace. No rhythm. Just need.

You almost laughed. “Jake,” you breathed, threading your fingers into his hair. “You’re making a fucking mess.”

“M’sorry,” he panted. “Tastes too good. Can’t stop—can’t—”

You yanked his head closer in answer. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t.

He buried himself deeper, tongue working in tighter, sharper patterns. He found rhythm then. Purpose. His hands came up, gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider. He let your heel rest against his shoulder, the other curling behind his neck like a leash, and you let yourself fall back against the couch with a long, low moan — head tipping, mouth parting, hips beginning to twitch.

You were close. Too close.

And he felt it. The tension in your thighs. The way your breathing shifted.

So he slowed.

The fucking bastard slowed.

“Jake,” you growled, but he just hummed into your clit, tongue drawing soft little circles now — featherlight. Infuriating. And then, just when you were about to command him again—

He sucked. Hard.

You came.

Fast. Violent. A sharp, hot surge that slammed into your spine and rolled through your body like a goddamn earthquake. You moaned, bit your bottom lip to keep from crying out, hips stuttering against his face as your hands fisted in his hair like you were drowning.

And he didn’t stop.

Not for a second.

He groaned into your cunt like it fed him. Like your orgasm gave him oxygen. He sucked through it, licked every aftershock, every twitch, every whimper that escaped you. And then — when your thighs trembled and your hips tried to retreat — he shifted.

One hand — previously gripping your thigh like a man clinging to salvation — slid down.

Between your legs.

And without asking, without hesitating, he pressed two fingers against your soaked entrance, teasing first, just circling — and then he shoved them in.

You gasped — hard.

“Jake—”

He curled them immediately. Like he knew. Like he’d memorized the blueprint of your body and knew exactly what would shatter you. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Just fucked his fingers into you fast and deep, knuckles slick with your first orgasm while his mouth stayed latched to your clit, sucking like a man possessed.

Your body jolted — thighs trying to close, hips stuttering against his face, your hands flailing for something to grab, anything — the armrest, his hair, your own wrist.

“Jake, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he mumbled, voice low and hot and buried in your cunt. “Let me. Please, Mommy—let me make you come again.”

And fuck, you did.

The second orgasm ripped through you — louder, messier, wetter — your walls clenching around his fingers as he kept driving them into you, his palm slick, heel of his hand grinding against you as you moaned so hard it felt like you might pass out.

"Holy fuck—" you cried, legs spasming.

But he still. Didn’t. Stop.

Your voice broke. "I said stop—"

He pulled back from your clit for one second, just long enough to moan against your folds, "I'll make you feel good—"

Then went right back to it.

His fingers curled harder now, precise, brutal. Three now — you didn’t even know when he added a third — but you felt it. Deep. Full. Your body couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and pain began, everything smearing together into one long, mindless scream that echoed through the room as your third orgasm crashed into you like a fucking freight train.

You shoved him off, finally — heel pressing into his chest just enough to make him stumble back, fall onto his ass, panting and glassy-eyed and soaked with your slick. He blinked up at you like he didn’t even know where he was.

You were still shaking, legs trembling from the overload, breath ragged. You sat there — limp, fucked, worshiped — and stared at the man who’d just made you come like that with nothing but his tongue, and fingers and a death wish.

You’d never felt this safe. This powerful. This wanted. And he crawled back forward. Pressed his cheek to your thigh. Didn’t say anything. Just breathed against you.

You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, sloppy, tongue-first and desperate, all teeth and spit, and god, he melted into it. Of course he did. You were still soaked from what he did to you, thighs a mess, cunt twitching with aftershocks — and he was the one trembling.

You pulled back and let your palm curl around his cock, rough and flushed and leaking across your fingers like it had been hurting for attention. He hissed when you touched it, and then groaned — loud, helpless — when you dragged your heel down, pressing it gently at first into his balls before slowly, firmly, crushing down.

“Mm. You look like you’re suffering right there,” you murmured, voice all syrup and sin.

He nodded, panting through clenched teeth.

“Is eating me out really getting you this excited?” you purred, cocking your head like it actually surprised you.

He nodded again. Hissed when you pressed harder with your heel. “Yes, Mommy—fuck, yes—it’s so much, I can’t—”

You let go of his cock.

“Touch yourself.”

He froze.

“I didn’t say you could cum,” you added lazily. “But I want to see you do it. Look at you. A grown man on the floor, balls bruised, begging for permission to jerk off in front of the woman who just came on his face.”

Jake’s hand moved fast — too fast — and you could already tell he was on edge. He gripped himself tight, started stroking, sloppy and aching, cock bobbing under his own frantic rhythm. But his eyes were locked on you.

You leaned back, legs still spread, panties ruined somewhere under the couch, slick still glistening on your thighs.

And you smirked.

He whimpered.

“Oh, god—” he gasped, jerking himself harder. “Please, just—just watch me—watch me, Mommy, please, I want you to see me—”

You raised a brow. “Why?”

He blinked. Swallowed.

“Say it.”

“Because—” he choked, “because I look pathetic—and… you’re still so perfect and I’m just here, jerking off on the floor like a freak—”

You tilted your head, letting your gaze drift over him slowly, from his flushed face to his slick stomach to the veins in his arms flexing with every stroke.

“You think I’m enjoying this?” you asked flatly, voice bored. “You think I want to see you make a mess of yourself like some shameless animal?”

He moaned.

“I—I hope s—”

“You hope so?”

He bit his lip. His hand never stopped. He was panting now, eyes burning into your body.

“And you like being watched?” you asked. “Even like this?”

He nodded, voice breaking. “I like when you see how bad I want you. How stupid I get. I-I-I want you to know what you do to me. I want to look at you and see your thighs and your cunt and your attitude and know I’m not allowed to have any of it—unless you let me.”

You hummed.

“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”

His eyes glazed over. “Everything—” Hips jerking.

“No. Be specific.”

He whimpered.

“I want you to hit me when I cum—open palm, across the face, hard enough that I feel it later. I-I-I want you to spit in my mouth again, like last time, and tell me I’ve earned it. I want you to put that heel back into my cock until I’m shaking—until I can’t move without permission. I want you to laugh when I beg, call me pathetic, make me say what I am. I want you to choke me—tight—long…hng… Long enough that I have to ask to breathe—and wh-when you let go, I want to thank you. I want your slick on my face, dried down my neck, smeared over my mouth like a collar—and I want to sleep in it. Don’t let me clean up. Make me keep it…”

You watched him stroke harder, hips twitching, spit almost sliding down his chin from how hard he was panting.

“I want you to ruin me and then hold me after… I….  Want to make you cum again and again until I cry. I want you—to never… Never stop looking at me.”

You leaned forward. And he shuddered. You didn’t say a word. Just watched.

And when he came — loud, messy, too fast and too much — he cried your name. again. and again. and again.

You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, tongue-first, needy. Sloppy and lost. And he melted. Of course he did. His mouth opened instantly, like instinct, like prayer. His lips were soaked from your cunt, and yours still tasted like his worship, so the whole thing was just spit and sin and heat. He groaned into it, soft and broken, like the kiss alone was enough to undo him.

You were still a mess — slick between your thighs, muscles twitching from the high he forced out of you, panties ruined and forgotten — and yet he was the one shaking. 

shit it felt good !

You broke the kiss first, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth until it snapped free. Then your hand dropped — right to his cock. Hard. Leaking. Angry-red and trembling in your palm like it had been hurting for you. You curled your fingers around it with practiced ease, thumb smearing his mess along the head just to make him whimper.

And then your heel dragged between his legs. Slowly.

You pressed into his balls — lightly at first, then firmer — until he gasped, jaw tightening, hips frozen like he didn’t know whether to rut forward or flinch.

“Mm.” You let your voice drip with amusement. “You look like you’re suffering right there.”

He nodded fast. Too fast. Shoulders tense. “Yes, Mommy—yes, it hurts—but it’s so good—I need more—please—”

You gave his cock a lazy stroke. Nothing to write about but enough for him to jolt.

“Is eating me out really what did this to you?” you murmured. “Made you this hard?”

He nodded again—practically whining.

“Mommy, it’s you, it’s always you—I get like this when you look at me, when you talk to me—fuck, fuck, fuck, even your voice makes my cock hurt.”

You smiled. Let go.

“Touch yourself.” He froze.

“You don’t get to cum,” you added, like an afterthought. “You cum without permission, and I walk out of this room. Leave you like this. Understand?”

He nodded, mouth open, eyes wet. “Yes. Yes, Mommy.”

He reached for himself instantly—like he’d been waiting hours for that command. His hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking hard, fast, filthy. His other hand trembled on his thigh, like he didn’t know what to do with it. His whole body was tight, twitching, sweat glistening down his chest and veiny arms. You could see every muscle working just to keep himself upright.

But he was looking at you. Your body, your gaze. Never looked away.

You leaned back into the couch, legs still spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Slick still shone between your thighs. You didn’t say anything. Just watched, and played with the sound your own wetness.

Jake moaned immediately. “Please—please keep watching—please, I—I want you to see me like this—”

“Why?” you said flatly.

He swallowed, hard.

“Say it.”

“Because—because I look like a mess,” he whimpered, stroking faster without thinking. “Because I look fucking pathetic, and it’s only for you—you did this to me—your pussy, your voice, your fucking eyes, everything—”

You tilted your head.

“You think I enjoy watching you jerk off like some pathetic little mutt on the floor?”

“I—I hope you d—” he gasped. “maybe I hope you don’t—maybe I hope you think I’m disgusting. Because I am, Mommy. I’m a disgusting pervert for you. No one else gets to see me like this. No one can. Just you—Just you.”

You exhaled slowly, like you were watching an experiment spiral into something deliciously ugly.

“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”

His hips jerked forward like the question alone hit his prostate. “Everything,” he moaned.

You narrowed your eyes. “No. Be specific.”

He looked up at you like he was about to cry.

“I want you to slap me when I cum,” he whimpered, “hard. Across the face. Make me feel you for days. I want you to spit in my mouth again—please, like last time—while I’m begging. I want you to wear those heels and step on me. Make me thank you while you do it. Tell me I’m nothing. Laugh when I fuck you and swear to me.”

His stroking grew faster — slick, loud, hips twitching like he was fighting to stay in his body.

“I want you to choke me until I have to ask to breathe,” he gasped. “And when you let go, I want to thank you. Like a good boy. Like your property.”

He was shaking now.

“I want to sleep in your slick. Face coated in it. Neck wet. Chest marked. Don’t let me wash it off—please, I want to wear it. Like a collar. Like a proof.”

You said nothing. Just stared. And he broke.

“I want you to ruin me. And then hold me after. Kiss my forehead like I’m not broken. Make me make you cum again until I’m crying from how much I need you. Mommy, I swear to god—” he sobbed, “no one else can do this to me. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m think of you—your body, your voice, your pussy—I want to live under you—”

your thighs were twitching. His breath was ragged. His whole body trembled like it was about to shut down.

“Please look at me when I cum,” he begged, “please—please see me—please, I need you—”

You nod and almost moan in your breath, And he came.

Loud. Raw. A broken, choked sob of your name as cum spilled over his knuckles, painting his abs, his thighs, the floor. He kept stroking through it, messy and wild, eyes locked on yours even as tears welled up in them. He looked wrecked. Ruined.

He cried out again. Your name again. and again and again. Whispered like a prayer, repeated like a compulsion — quieter each time, like he couldn’t stop saying it, like it was the only thing left tethering him to reality. And when the last of his orgasm spilled over his wrist and onto the floor, his body simply… slumped.

Collapsed at your knees now closed.

Shaking, silent, mouth open but not speaking anymore — breath coming in little broken bursts as if the air around him had gotten too thin. And for a moment, you just watched him. Not as a dom. Not as a goddess. Just… watched the boy you adored fall to pieces in front of you.

Then you moved. You slid down from the couch to the carpet, kneeled in front of him — with him — and reached out. He flinched at first, not from fear but fragility and maybe self consciousness.

But you cupped his face anyway. Held him gently, thumbs brushing across his hot, damp cheeks, and leaned in to press a soft kiss just under his eye.

“Shh,” you whispered, voice low. Warm. Real. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Jake’s eyes fluttered shut. His body leaned into yours like gravity had given up. And then — quietly, barely audible — he sniffled.

“I’m sorry,”

You froze. “Why?”

He swallowed hard. Still wouldn’t open his eyes. “For saying too much. For… being too much of a sub.”

You pressed your lips to his forehead. Then his temple. Then his cheek.

“You weren’t too much,” you said, kissing between words. “You were honest. Perfect. Mine.”

He whimpered— a small, broken sound— and then his arms wrapped around your waist, so tight, so desperate, like he didn’t care about the mess or the sweat or the fact that he was naked and half-crying on a hotel room floor.

You held him. Stroked his hair. Kissed behind his ear. Whispered things only he was allowed to hear.

“My good boy.” “My perfect thing.” “You did so well for me.”

Minutes passed like that. Or hours. You weren’t sure. The quiet felt infinite, like the world had shrunk down to the warmth of two bodies pressed together under dim light and the soft scent of sex and sweat and trust.

Eventually, he pulled back — reluctantly — just far enough to look at you. His eyes were sleepy, still red. But he smiled, small and exhausted.

“…Can we—” he hesitated. Bit his lip looking at you. “Can we sleep here?”

You raised a brow. “We don’t have anything packed.”

“I know.” He blinked. “I just don’t want you to leave. Not tonight. I wanna fall asleep with you... Please.”

You looked at him for a moment. Then nodded.

“Okay,” you said softly. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Jake followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, still trembling a little, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe you were really going to stay.

The water ran hot, steam blooming fast as you stepped under it together — skin on skin, sticky and marked, your bodies pressed close in the quiet rush of heat.

You reached for the soap, lathered slowly, and started with his chest.

He gasped — not from the temperature, but from the way you touched him. Like he was something precious. Something yours.

You washed him soft. Careful. Thumbs running down his ribs, lips brushing over his shoulder once, twice. His hands stayed on your hips like he didn’t know what else to do — until you turned, smiled lazily over your shoulder, and offered him the bar.

“Your turn.”

He took it like a gift.

And then his hands were on you — warm and slow, fingers sliding over your skin like he was worshiping you in silence, like rinsing the sweat and slick off you was the most important job he’d ever been given. He kissed your neck. Your shoulder. Your lower back. You felt it in your knees.

By the time the water turned lukewarm, he was panting softly behind you, hard again without a word spoken, cock brushing your thigh like a question.

You didn’t answer it. Not yet. You just turned, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Bed.”

And he followed you, lifting you, dripping and obedient, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

He didn’t let go of you, not even when you reached the bed. You both collapsed into the blankets, half-covered in nothing but the weight of each other.

And then — quiet giggle in his chest, warm kiss on your neck — Jake tugged you closer. And called your name.

You smiled into his collarbone. “Hmm?”

“…Can I fuck you sweet?”

You looked at him. He looked nervous. Flushed. But serious.

“…Not rough. Not a scene too. Just… I wanna make you feel good. Wanna be in you. Close.” His eyes did that triangle thing that made you smile.

Ans your heart did a weird thing in your chest. You didn’t say anything, just kissed him. Slow. Deep.

He slid into you like it was meant to happen in silence. No teasing. No commands. Just soft hands and warm breath and your legs curling around his hips, pulling him in like he belonged there— Oh he did.

You moved together like something practiced.

His forehead pressed to yours. His eyes never left your face. It wasn’t the kind of sex that left bruises. It was the kind that stayed under your skin for days.

And when you both came — whispering each other’s names, holding on like sleep might take you too soon — you didn’t bother separating. Just tangled yourselves up tighter under the blankets, legs and arms everywhere, breath syncing until the air went quiet.

Jake fell asleep first from exhaustion . Still inside you. Face tucked into your neck, hand resting on your hip and over your head, smile barely there.

And you followed. One last kiss to his hairline. One last thought, whispered only in your head.

Maybe I love you, Jake.

🕰️

Monday came too soon.

The city clicked back into motion like it hadn’t been on its knees three nights ago — like you hadn’t spent the weekend riding high on power and orgasm, like Jake Sim hadn’t buried his face between your thighs and cried your name like it was a gospel, like nothing in your bed had shifted something irreversible between you. But here you were. Blazer sharp. Hair tied up like a noose. Coffee in one hand, to-do list in the other. Face clean. Voice calm. And Jake?

Jake was perfect. Of course.

Golden manager. Corporate fantasy. Tie straight. Shoes polished. Smile polite, crisp, neutral — as if he hadn’t begged to sleep in your slick two nights ago. As if his mouth hadn’t broken you open like prayer.

He passed your desk at 9:02. On time. Silent. But his eyes flicked toward you — fast, hot, reverent — like he was starving for permission to even look.

Yeah. Not subtle.

The week dragged. Deadlines. Briefings. Emails that made you want to cry. A dozen little brushes of Jake’s arm at meetings, a few too-long looks across the conference room. Nothing said. Everything felt.

And then Wednesday came. And Jay walked in like a plot twist.

Jay — from the international branch. Jay who hadn’t changed a bit except in jawline and confidence. Tall, lean, just the right amount of cocky, with that you-can-trust-me grin and rolled-up sleeves that said he wasn’t here to play humble. You knew that walk before he even reached your side of the office. And you smiled before he even said your name.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, arms open, warm and loud and exactly the same. “Is that you?”

You stood to greet him, surprising the whole office, and for a second it was easy to forget anything else existed.

Jay had been your twin at your first job — the only rookie who matched your speed and fire, the one who helped you learn the ropes while you taught him how to cheat the system without getting caught. You’d shared too many late-night reports and too many energy drinks in parking lots to pretend this wasn’t real.

You hugged. Tight. No hesitation. His hand curled behind your neck like he’d missed you properly. “Good to see you.” he whispered.

“I didn’t even know you were stationed here,” you said into his shoulder.

“Temporary,” he replied, pulling back, smiling like trouble. “Two weeks. Project lead on cross-regional integration. Had to say yes when I heard who was running one of the teams.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Still charming.”

“Still bossy,” he said, looking you over with a spark you didn’t bother flinching from. “God, you look good.”

Across the room, Jake watched the whole thing, leaning on a co-worker desk for a review. And if there had been a heart rate monitor clipped to his tie, it would’ve flatlined.

To everyone else, he looked as normal as the rest of this office watching. But his jaw was tight. His hand had stopped scrolling his subordinate mouse. Because Jay wasn’t just some regional project lead— he was Jake’s old friend. One of the few people he trusted, who knew things about him from years ago, who used to sleep on his couch in between overseas rotations and share shitty bar ramen and management rants.

And now he was here. Shaking your hand. Pulling you into hugs. Looking at you like he’d found something. And worse — you looked happy to see him. Not performative-happy. Not polite. Actually happy. You leaned in to talk. You laughed, like… Twice.

Jake couldn’t hear the conversation. He didn’t know Jay had just told you that Jake was famous in the international branch — that half the floor still referred to him as “the one who doesn’t fuck up.” He didn’t know that you’d laughed and said, “He’s still like that,” or that you’d softened when Jay said, “Honestly, I’m not surprised you two haven’t killed each other. You always scared me a little more than him anyway.”

Jake didn’t know that your giggles weren’t flirtation. They were about him.

All Jake saw was the closeness. The familiarity. The way Jay’s hand brushed your arm when he made a point. The way you didn’t flinch. The easy rhythm between you. And then, just to gut him further, Jay turned around during a meeting break and dapped Jake up like a brother.

“Still as stiff as ever,” Jay said, grinning, leaning against Jake’s desk like no time had passed.

“Still can’t read a brief without fucking the formatting,” Jake shot back. They laughed. It was real. Jake wanted to be happy to see him.

But his eyes kept flicking past Jay’s shoulder. Back to you. Because even if Jake and Jay were old friends — you and Jay looked like something else.

Jay invited the team to dinner that Friday. Said it was casual. Team bonding. International-branch hospitality. You said yes before Jake could even pretend to be indifferent. Like postponing your session was nothing.

Jake sat through the rest of the week in silence. Smile plastered on. Voice tight. His keyboard clicks a little too sharp. His jaw clenched every time Jay walked past your desk.

It wasn’t that he thought Jay was a threat. It was that you seemed… open around him. Relaxed. Familiar. The kind of open Jake had only seen when you were half-naked, straddling his thigh, calling him names while riding his face.

And now?

Now you were laughing at another man’s joke. Jake spiraled. Quietly. Painfully.

🕰️

By the next wednesday morning, Jake was unraveling like a ribbon since you texted him.

Cannot make it this week… Let's wait for next friday, mr. Sim

Mr. Sim ?? Mr. Sim ??

You called Jay by his first name even in the office. Joking about his korean name, in team dinners. But even in texts Jake stayed “Mr. Sim”, if it wasn’t a scene you never called him Jake. If it wasn’t in a bedroom, never let him touch you like Jay did.

He was mad. 

Oh, he hid it well — always did. The tie still sharp, the voice still calm when he led meetings like a man who hadn’t spent the week watching you share private smiles with someone who knew you from before he did. Someone you hugged without hesitation. Someone who called you by your first name with that easy kind of familiarity Jake had only ever earned through submission.

You weren’t ignoring him. Not really. But you weren’t touching him either. No texts. No sexy glances. No little cruel reminders of what he was to you. Just distance. Controlled and professional. Like the weekends together hadn’t happened.

And Jake? Jake was starving for the leash. And your presence, he missed the intimate you. 

So when the elevator opened that morning, and you stepped in, followed by two project leads and someone from HR, he took his chance.

Jake slipped in last. Stood at your side. And said nothing, even after exchanging cute eye contact with him.

The numbers ticked up. Floors grew away. One by one, everyone stepped out.

Until it was just…  You and him.

He stepped closer. Just a little too close. You didn’t turn to look at him. Not yet. Cause recently it had been hard on you pretending you weren’t in love with him. Pretending in front of his long time friend and yours there was nothing between you two. But you felt it — his body tight with restraint, his breath catching just a little louder than it should.

“I-I don’t care if you don’t want me recently,” he said, voice low, barely audible.

Your brows lifted about to turn around but he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re still my Mistress.” 

You turned then, expression unreadable.

He didn’t flinch. He exhaled. And then—he took your hand. Just your fingers. Slipped something cold and small into your palm and curled your fingers shut around it.

A key. You stared at it. Felt the weight.

“Friday can’t come fast enough,” he whispered, voice shaking just a little now. “It’s already hurting. I can’t stop thinking about you. I put it on last friday night. Haven’t touched myself since. Not even once.”

Your eyes snapped to his desperate, hot, worshipful bulge he made you palm, moaning to the contact of your unsure fingers, his forehead falling on yours.

He almost smiled — a little unhinged.

“I locked myself for you. Because I needed to remember. Because I needed you to own me.”

The elevator chimed. He stepped back. Straightened his tie. Smoothed his jacket.

Turned to you like he hadn’t just dropped a live grenade into your hand.

“I’ll be waiting until you want me again Mistress,” he said, voice calm again, composed. Just a touch sad.

Then he walked out. And left you there. Alone. With the key to his cock clenched in your fist.

And the knowledge that he’d caged himself for you, for days, just to suffer in silence until you decided he was worth your attention again. Fuck only holding it made you wet.

🕰️

Jake caught Jay by the coffee machine an hour after that— late enough in the day that the fluorescent lights made everything look a little harsher, even your name in conversation.

“Hey,” he said, low, casual. Actually not casual at all. “You and… her.”

Jay turned slightly, brow raised. “Yeah?”

Jake swallowed. “You’re not—” his voice caught, and he rolled his shoulders, tried again. “You’re not trying to… go for her, right?”

Jay blinked, the idea of playing his naive ass dying after one second of thinking,  then he smiled — not sharp, not smug. Just knowing.

“Nah, man. She already said no.”

Jake stilled.

Jay took a sip from his paper cup. “Told me she’s into someone else, a complicated situationship.”

That should’ve settled it. Should’ve made something inside him untwist.

But it didn’t.

Because Jay glanced over his shoulder, toward the open floor where you stood— and added, tone lower now, not cruel, just honest:

“If it were me, I’d stop hiding behind roles and secrets and all that shit going on and just tell her. Straight up.”

Jake didn’t move.

Jay looked at him again. “She’s into you, bro. That’s obvious… From what I understood.” He clapped Jake’s shoulder once — firm, not teasing. “Only thing left is whether you’ve got the spine to stop waiting for her to drag it out of you.”

🕰️

Fuck.

Jay was right.

This thing between you — the structure, the sessions, the rules he clung to like they made him safe — it was never meant to hold forever. It worked because it was clean. Controlled. Because you both pretended it didn’t mean more, didn’t bleed more. But Jake had already gone too far, and every time he knelt, every time you touched his jaw and made him beg like something sacred, he fell harder into something that wasn’t just powerplay anymore — it was love. Messy. Real. Suffocating.

And now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking.

What if you started dating someone?

Would he still get his sessions — or would you say it wasn’t “appropriate” anymore?

Would you let him keep watching you from across the meeting room — or would he have to pretend you were just his superior again, like you hadn’t screamed his name while grinding on his face four nights ago?

Would he be allowed to touch you? At all? To kiss your ankle while you read? To hold your thigh under the table just because he needed to feel you?

Would lazy Sunday mornings in bed be cancelled — would the books, the wine, the home-cooked meals and terrible documentaries turn into someone else’s life with you?

Would he still be allowed to look at you the way he did?

To smile at you like you were the only thing that had ever been his?

Or would you pull away the next time he leaned in?

Would Jake go back to “Mr. Sim”?

Would your voice lose that edge when you said his name?

Would you take your laugh with you? Your eyes? Your mouth?

That smug little smirk when you wore heels that bruised his ribs and made him say thank you for it?

That cold, commanding tone that shattered him?

That soft, dangerous warmth when you licked his tears off your knuckles after he came shaking in your lap?

What if it all disappeared?

What if he lost not just the kink — but you?

All versions. The hard one. The gentle one. The funny, brat-taming, snack-sharing, throat-grabbing, book-reading, leash-holding, rule-breaking you.

What if he lost the one person who saw all of him — and didn’t flinch?

What if he had to start calling you “miss” again, just to keep from saying mine?

No.

He wasn’t going to survive another week of pretending. Not another goddamn day of acting like giving you his body wasn’t also handing you his heart.

It had to be tonight.

He texted you one line, with a pin to the address:

“Come here tonight. 9PM. Please.”

You arrived right on time.

And the address — when you reached it — wasn’t a hotel. Wasn’t a suite. Wasn’t the clean, clinical setting where you usually got him on his knees and made him sob.

It was a house.

His house.

You blinked.

Then walked in.

Jake opened the door like he’d been pacing behind it for an hour — sweater soft, hair undone, eyes wide and helpless and shining like he had no idea how you were going to respond to any of this.

The first thing you noticed was how expensive everything was — the dark wood, the subtle lighting, the quiet warmth of real money used by someone who didn’t need to show it off. The second thing was his dog — tail wagging, greeting you like you’d been here a thousand times before.

The third?

Family photos.

Jake as a kid. In school uniforms. With his mother in Seoul. With classmates. With some awful international branch birthday cake, and that smile — the smile, just smaller, softer, untouched.

You turned slowly. Took it all in.

He watched you like a man watching a dream walk through his bedroom.

“You like it?” he asked, unsure.

Your answer was in your eyes — in how slowly you moved, in how carefully you touched the edge of a frame, in the way you smiled and looked back at him for detailed comparaisons.

“You’ve never let me in here,” you said. “That's… New.” you smiled.

“Yeah,” he murmured. That was the problem. he thought. 

Dinner was tense. Not because anything was wrong, but because everything was shifting — plates warming your hands while your eyes stayed fixed on his face, red wine sweet on your tongue while you waited for the dam to crack. 

Jake broke first. “It’s not homemade,” he said, sheepish. 

“Unless you want to end up in the hospital.” 

You laughed. And then — you turned to him, voice like a knife sliding in slowly.

“Are you really wearing it?”

He swallowed. His jaw twitched. Then he nodded half looking at your reaction.

“I bought a smaller one,” he whispered, like it hurt to admit. “The one that hurts when I get hard.”

You didn’t blink. Just tilted your head, like the predator you were.

“And when did you?”

Jake leaned forward, voice raw, fingers twitching by the number of times he passed them through his hair before hiding in his palm?

“Monday,” he said. “When you wore the heels I gave you” then he whispered, “I remembered the way they left marks on my back while I tasted you— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was hard all day… It ached.”

You crossed your legs, slowly. Grin flickering.

“Wednesday, I saw your thighs,” he added, faster now, like he couldn’t hold it in. “Bare under your skirt — just a glimpse, but I kept wondering where they stopped. If they were warm. If they were sticky with someone else’s mouth.”

Your breath hitched, but your face didn’t change.

“T-thursday,” he said, almost breathless, “when I saw you smile at Jay, and I wanted you to snap. I wanted you to pull me by the collar and spit in my mouth in front of everyone just so I could feel claimed.”

And then softer.

“Y-yesterday… I thought about kissing you in the hallway. About grabbing you and just… giving it away. Not caring who saw. Not hiding anymore.”

You let it hang.

Then:

“What?”

Jake’s hands trembled.

“I was jealous,” he said. “You looked so comfortable with him. Like he was allowed to see parts of you I only get when you’ve got your hand around my throat. And I couldn’t say anything — because I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your partner. I’m just the guy who comes when you tell him to. If he’s lucky.”

You leaned in, voice cool and soft.

“And?”

He met your gaze like it burned.

“And I thought maybe… I wasn’t worth more. That everything I’ve shown you — the crying, the leash, the begging — maybe that made me… disposable.”

Silence.

Heavy.

You stared at him like you were looking at something precious. Fragile. Real.

Then you smiled.

Blush blooming over cheekbones, hidden behind the wine glass.

“What should I do, Jake…” you said, low, sultry, devastating. “You made me too ruined to date anyone else now.”

Jake made a sound. Half-sob, half-laugh, and really looked at you, your validating beautiful eyes. Then, he stood. Walked over. Grabbed you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he waited one more second.

And kissed you like it hurt.

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m in love with you.” He kissed again, “I’ll give you everything.”  kissed again, “I’ll let you ruin me for the rest of my life and beg for more, I swear.”

You laughed in his embrace and looked at him with sudden dare.

“Prove it Jake.”

He stripped for you like he was peeling away fear itself. and you did the same messily kissing.

Quiet obedience. Until he stood naked inch from you, flushed, forehead against forehead, trembling, cock caged and faintly purple, swollen from days of frictionless ache. It looked smaller, pulled tight by metal and denial. Beautiful in its own way — his way. His whole body looked like it was waiting for permission to feel again, all veiny and hot.

You dropped to your knees.

Unlocked him with the little silver key.

And the second the cage clattered to the floor, he moaned — not from pleasure. From pain. His cock sprang out — red, angry, twitching like it didn’t know if it was free or dying.

You reached forward, wrapped your hand around it, and he came instantly.

“F-fuck—Hng, no, no, no—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—please—” he gasped, whole body convulsing, cum spilling down your wrist in helpless pulses. “I didn’t mean to—it’s been d—I didn’t want to—please—”

You smiled. God, you loved it. all cruel and loving on him.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, rising to kiss his cheek. “That was just the appetizer.” And he kept coming with slow strokes on your thighs now like it was his first time.

In his bedroom, you tied him up with smooth, sure hands— wrists to headboard, thighs wide, legs restrained too with ropes he prepared— and then climbed on top of him 

He was still trembling. Still leaking. Still whispering your name like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And then, just when he thought he might get softness —

You leaned in and blindfolded him. And your voice made him tremble.

“Jake,” you whispered, brushing your lips along his jaw. “Do you think Jay would’ve made me scream like you do?”

His breath hitched. You grinned.

“Do you think he’d eat me better than you?” you asked, tongue flicking against his earlobe as he twitched under you. “Would he cry when I ride his face? Would he beg for my spit too?”

Jake whimpered. His cock jerked. You pressed down harder against him.

Moaning in the most outrageous way.

“Would he fuck me better than the boy leaking into his sheets right now?”

“Stop—please—no,” he gasped, face trying to find your lips with shame and heat.

You laughed. Gently.

“Then make me never want to find out,” you said. “Be a good boy. Show my pussy, Jake.”

And he did. You pulled on the ropes and realized him.

He fucked you like a man possessed. Getting inside your wetness in one go. Like a man breaking out of something. Like he’d die if you didn’t keep screaming his name. He thrust with raw need, face twisted in love, in agony, in fucking reverence.

He came again. And again. Still hard. Still inside you. Still trying to earn you with every snap of his hips. His cum painted your thighs, your cunt, your stomach — you didn’t want to stop. And he didn’t stop.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you[...]” He kept moaning on  your lips, in your neck, mouth at your tits.

And when he finally collapsed into you, ruined, panting, completely undone? You kissed him and whispered : 

“I love you too.”

🕰️

You did it on the floor next.

Then against the wall.

Then the window. Then the shower. Then the kitchen table while his dog slept soundly in the living room like nothing sacred was happening in the next room.

No rules. No safe words. No games.

Just “I love you” in every thrust, every bite, every knot of fingers in hair and bruises bloomed in the shape of home.

You didn’t fuck like dom and sub that night . You fucked like people who’d been starving for each other in plain sight — and finally broke the lock.

MASTERLIST

Thank you so much for reading Part 2 of Power Play I rushed this one out early just for @ri4-lovesenha, @raven-unkind & @bambiihee I promised, more sub!Jake 💗 Our sub!Jake and boss x co-worker chaos has officially evolved—now it’s not just a dom/sub dynamic... it’s real romance too💗

I’d love to hear what you thought, so don’t be shy—drop your feedback, scream with me, anything!! P.S. Yes, Part 3 is already in the works… get ready !!! xoxo

© 2025 Lassiie. All rights reserved. No reproduction, distribution, or translation permitted without prior written consent. Protected under international copyright law.

TL : @heekolazz @shariasweet @heeseungsbm @monoidol @v1shwa-xo @thesundys @xiaoszone

[lassiie]

Power Play. sub!boss!Jake x Co-worker!dom!reader

CONTENT ↠ long fiction with smut, nsfw!, sub Jake, dom/sub dynamics, dominant reader, needy sub Jake, strong depiction of fantasies, power play, sexual tension, worship kink, consensual power exchange, denial, servitude kink, head recieving, overstimulation, degradation play, slight violence, fluff (what should i say i'm still hella romantic in a way...) WC↠ 8k~

MDNI / Before you dive, read the warnings. don’t like it, don’t read.

Jake Sim is the human equivalent of a TED Talk on professionalism — all pressed suits, smiles, and PowerPoints that make managers almost tear up. Three months since his transfer from the overseas branch and the office still hasn’t recovered. They call him golden boy in the group chat—half-joke, half-worshiping honestly. Because, fuck, he’s too perfect. Too polite. The kind of guy who probably apologizes to doors after walking into them, and makes you forget he’s your boss.

And you? Poor you…You’ve been paired with him as his second in executive, which should've felt like a promotion. But didn’t even scratch the surface of your indifference. You didn’t need to sparkle like him to command attention. You’ve earned every inch of your place with blood, sleep deprivation, and the kind of ruthless efficiency that doesn’t beg for recognition. The office knew how you were : nice but ice-edged. They knew not to interrupt when you’re typing, not to hover near your desk unless summoned, and not to try you with weak jokes or wandering hands unless they’re craved the kind of career-ending evisceration you delivered to the last manager, as you buried him six feet under and salted the earth.

But still, interns loved you. You took good care of your team, made sure everyone was at ease, comfortable and heard in any situations. which bringed respect.

And Jake? Jake saw you long before you saw him.

First time was one of those insufferable corporate mixers, drowning in stale champagne and fake smiles, where you emerged across the room, wrapped in silk, fine jewelry and sharp liner. You were flawless that first time, you were impossible to ignore. And all the others too, actually.

You didn’t glance his way more than two to three times, and that cold distance only made you more magnetic, to Jake—the kind of woman who moves through rooms like no one deserves to know her but somewhat not mean. And Jake ended up eyes on you every other gathering, everytime a step further, a bit more small talk, a glass of champagne offered, his eyes fixed on your silhouette like it was a masterpiece he’d never be worthy enough to touch, let alone own.

Then that promotion opportunity came. So he transferred because he worshiped you, because you were the kind of woman who made him want to kneel, to be the loser he always wanted to be for his woman. For the impossible humiliating chance to breathe in your orbit every day, to stand beside you in meeting rooms pretending he’s your equal. But in his mind, you're not just his colleague. And he’s not even your superior. Oh babe, you're his goddamn sovereign. And he’s never felt more alive than when, in his thoughts, he’s kneeling, mouth open, waiting for commands you’ll never actually give.

He tried to act normal, pro, detached. But every clipped instruction from your lips feels like a test of endurance, every click of your heels across the floor a reminder. He watched : How you open his water bottle at meetings without sparing him a second glance, like he was a child. How you hand him reminders post-it like you’re feeding a dog out of habit, never cruelty—but never kindness either. It devastates him. Your effortless dominance. Your divine neglect. How you were a natural.

And it only got worse.

He started to make mistakes in your presence—every misplaced file, every stammered report, every too-long pause before answering your questions or request—was laced with intent. Because he wants you to be disappointed in him. He needs you to sigh, to call him out, to scold him with that glint in your eye that says you could gut him with a sentence if you wanted to. 

In his dreams, you’re pulling him into his office by the tie, shoving him to his knees, using him like something cheap and temporary—like a thing. He imagines you telling him he’s beneath you, that he’s useful for nothing but kneeling. Most of the time, like three hours ago, he ended up beating his meat in a bathroom stall, panting and low moaning those fantasies, agreeing, sobbing, begging you to ruin him in front of the team, to make an example of him. He imagines you laughing as he licks you beneath your desk, sobbing because it’s not enough.

But none of that ever happens.

Because in reality, Jake is a coward. A gorgeous, trembling, painfully nice coward who sits quietly, worshiping you with slight glances, calling it professionalism. Hoping—foolishly—that one day, you’ll notice him not as a coworker, not as a man, but as the thing he wants to be: your property. Your toy.

So Jake found himself lucky to get to travel with you in the name of the company, even if it’s more like you got to travel with him.

You’ve always had a thing for rooftop dinners. Velvet skies, free-flowing wine, fairy lights strung above your head like some Pinterest board fever dream. You’re halfway through a glass of red you can’t pronounce, listening to a group of executives over-intellectualize Shark Tank, when you realize Jake’s gone.

Not that you noticed right away. You were too busy being charmed by some VP with a Rolex and too much cologne. But on the way to the restroom, your steps slow.

There—by the bar your ex-manager stands. The one who should’ve been fired, but instead got quietly "transferred"l. He’s hunched over a whiskey glass, already too loud for the setting, and—of course—he’s found Jake. And Jake’s just… sitting there. Letting it happen. You don’t catch the whole thing, but what you do hear lands like a slap.

“She’s cold, huh? Don’t take it personal, new guy. That bitch just needs a firm hand. Or maybe some good dick to set her straight.”

Classy.

You’re not fragile. You’ve sat through worse. But the worst part isn’t him. It’s Jake. Jake—who’s supposed to be different. Jake, who’s tilting his head like he’s actually considering it. Your heart doesn’t break. It just… 

Lowers its expectations. Because of course. Of course the one man you thought might actually get it—the one who made fumbling attempts to earn your respect instead of demanding it, and the one who seemed like he worked as hard as you did to get where he was—turns out to be made of the same recycled garbage as the rest.

You almost walk away. Almost. When Jake moves. Your ex-manager lifts his glass for a toast to misogyny, and Jake spills it all over him. Deliberately. 

No apology. No more honorifics. He just, like that, made the golden boy vanish.

“Let me tell you something, you piece of shit,” he says, voice flat.

“She’s one of the most capable, intelligent, and dedicated professionals I’ve ever met. If you think she owes you warmth just for existing in her line of sight, maybe that’s why you’re no longer her superior. Or anyone’s, really.”

And suddenly, the bar quiets a bit.

“God forbid a woman doesn't tolerate bullshit. She’s earned more than the team’s respect. She’s earned admiration. Mine. And the higher-ups’, too. So here’s some advice: next time you think about speaking her name, do us all a favor and don’t.”

Your ex-manager, predictably puffs up like a drunk peacock about to throw a punch.

That’s your cue. You stride over, grab Jake by the wrist, and step between them. Not for Jake. Not even for the ex. But for you. Because you’re done letting men discuss your worth like it’s a goddamn cocktail special.

“You’re going to shut your fucking mouth.”

It leaves your lips like a knife thrown with perfect aim—smooth, deadly, no hesitation.

“No one here wants to hear the rot that curdles in whatever’s left of your brain.”

He blinks. “You—”

Stunned. Good. Let him choke on it. He always feared you a little, but now? Now that he’s been stripped of rank, status, relevance? Now that he’s nothing but a cautionary tale with a half-empty drink? He’s pathetic. And god, it suits him.

So you smile, slow and cruel, like you’re savoring it. 

Because you are.

“Your career didn’t end because women stopped smiling. It ended because you couldn’t keep your dick zipped and your mouth shut. And now look at you—bitter, balding, washed-up in a suit that screams clearance rack. Shit, I’d feel bad for your wife if I didn’t know she was already contemplating divorce papers.”

You step closer, watching his throat bob like he’s trying to swallow the truth—but it sticks.

“How about I send her your HR file?” you murmur, voice dropping low and poisonous. “Maybe she’d enjoy seeing the long list of every intern you've “mentored”. Wouldn’t your kids just love knowing daddy’s a predator with a pattern?”

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. His face curdles, and that’s enough for you.

You turn, already done with him, gripping Jake’s wrist like an afterthought—like he’s yours to take with you. And he lets you. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t question. He just follows, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, dragged up to your rooms’ floor like a kid being led to bed.

Once the elevator dings and you’re back on solid carpet, you realize: you’re still holding onto him. Tightly. Nails half-embedded into his skin.

You drop his hand like it burned you. “Shit—I didn’t mean to grip that hard. Sorry—”

And then he whimpers.

A real, breathy, aching sound that does not belong to a man sober in thought. His hand is trembling, but it’s not from the pain. No. You think that’s Jake’s flushed. His eyes are glassy; his lips parted like he’s seconds from begging; and he’s not hearing a word you’re saying.

Actually, he’s still stuck in the bar, at that moment. Still reeling from the version of you that stepped in, grabbed him strongly. The version that protected him while threatening to ruin someone else.

And fuck, he liked it.

He could fall to his knees right here, in the hallway, under the hum of those fancy hotel lights, in front of the security cameras, the staff or any stranger possibly walking by from their own room—and he wouldn’t care. He’s hard. Pulsing through his slacks. You can see it. Can you ? Fuck he hopes you can’t.

He’s too drunk… Past his limit for sure, since he never really drinks. But this isn't just alcohol.

This is you.

“Mr. Sim?” You call for him again, in his daze.

Why the hell are you so pretty tonight ? And why’re your nails so clean? Why do they gleam under the light like they were made for him to fidget with ? To leave marks on his back? On his throat?

He's a man standing on the edge of fantasy, and you—well, you’re just standing there, breathing, and it’s too much.

“Mr… Jake?”

His eyes dart.

“S-sorry, have a good night, m-miss.” He stammers it out, then bolts like he’s escaping a fire. Or running from a wet dream that got too real.

And you just stand there. Stunned. What the hell was that?

🕗

You’d showered. Paced. Changed into something softer—something that didn’t scream professional, but still whispered respectable enough to knock on your boss’s door past midnight.

And now, here you stood in front of Room 707 with a travel-sized first aid kit and a mind spiraling in loops.

You told yourself this was about the wrist. About decency. About clearing the weird air that was left behind. Not about the way Jake’s eyes had clung to you like you were divine retribution in heels. Not about the ache under your ribs every time you replayed the way he stood up for you like it meant something.

Nope. Definitely about the wrist.

You knocked—firmly, like you weren’t praying he didn’t answer. But of course, he did. 

And god help you.

Jake’s shirt : rumpled, sleeves : shoved to his elbows, no tie, no belt, just that top button undone like a tease. He looked half-finished or  half-undressed. Either way, your brain short-circuited for a half-second too long.

“Hey,” you said, lifting the kit like a peace offering. “Thought I’d fix your wrist. Since I mauled you earlier.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled softly and nodded before stepping aside to invite you.

Inside, it felt strange—quiet, warm, domestic in a way that shouldn’t have felt intimate but absolutely did. Jake moved around like he was trying to impress you in silence: fluffing the cushions, adjusting the lights, even pouring you water like it mattered, with that cute stressed expression.

You sat. He sat closer. And you started dabbing the ointment gently on the red welts your nails left behind.

“Sorry again,” you murmured. “Didn’t mean to dig in that hard.”

Jake just hummed, with the softest voice, almost a moan. Like the pain was holy now.

Then he asked, barely louder than a breath:

“You okay?”

And somehow, that cracked it all open.

You didn’t mean to spill. But it poured out anyway. Every time your ex-manager had belittled you, laughed too loud at meetings, but still stolen your credit. Every time his eyes lingered too long. Every time you’d swallowed the rage, because you couldn’t afford to be seen as “too emotional” in a room full of mediocre men who failed upward.

Jake listened. Like, really listened. He’d heard some of it. But your version made him exhale like he couldn’t take it.

“I should’ve broken that asshole’s nose,” he muttered, low and taut.

You stilled. The words hit deeper than they should have. Not because of the violence, but because of the intent. Jake wasn’t trying to play savior. He was just... angry for you.

Your hand lingered on his wrist softer now. “Thank you. For earlier. For saying all that. I know I act like it’s whatever, but it... wasn’t.”

Jake’s eyes stayed on you like you were speaking scripture.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said. “I saw the kind of woman you are from day one. You’re smart. You don’t kiss ass. Guys like him can’t handle that. Because they don’t have the vocabulary for powerful.”

Something tugged tight in your chest. And lower. Warmer.

“I really should’ve punched him,” Jake said again, more to himself now. “No man like that deserves to say your name.”

You let out a laugh—one that tasted like relief.

“Honestly? I should’ve done it. Slapped him. Right in the face. Just once. Not even for like, feminism or justice or anything—just for me, for the satisfaction.”

You were smirking before you even realized it. Jake was grinning too, loose and genuine, like this moment was undoing all the knots inside him and you. Then something flickered behind his eyes. A wild idea taking root.

“How… How about you try it.” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“Slap me,” he said, voice light but firm. “Come on. Let it out.” He smacked his own cheek lightly, then grinned at you like a lunatic.

Your jaw dropped. “Mr. Sim—”

“You’ll feel better.”

His cheek was pink now. His eyes dared you.

And your hand... your hand actually rose, by instinct. You stopped halfway. Fist clenched, nails digging into your palm. What the fuck were the two of you doing? Was it the adrenaline? The leftover fury? The wine? The way Jake looked at you like you were both priest and punishment? Either way, your heart pounded. Your hand hovered. Very much tempted, but terrified. And Jake just sat there, unblinking. Waiting for you. No, begging for it.

Jake’s hand wraps around yours like it’s his first taste of something forbidden—gently, reverently, like he’s convinced himself your fingers are a gift he doesn’t deserve but still needs to worship. He doesn’t just hold your hand. No—he kisses it softly, unfolds it, spreads your palm. His voice, when it comes, is low, breathless, and so fucking sincere it borders on stupid.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing your open hand to his cheek like some sacrificial lamb ready to be offered up. “I don’t mind. Say what you want. Slap me how you want. Curse me. Pretend I’m him—I’ll take it. I’ll be him, just this once. For you.”

And god help you—something about the way he says it, all shaky and soft-spoken, makes your jaw tighten and your thighs twitch. Because of course he’d say that. Of course Jake fucking Sim would offer himself up like a stand-in for your trauma with bedroom eyes.

You hesitate for a second, because sanity demands you to—but then your palm lifts and falls.

The first slap is light, really. Nothing to write home about. But the way Jake shivers under it? The way his breath stutters and his eyes flutter half-lidded like you just whispered something obscene directly into his bloodstream? That reaction alone makes something dangerous spark inside you.

And when you laugh—half from nerves, half from the ridiculousness of the whole thing—he laughs too, like he’s high off the sound. Like you just gave him a hit of something addictive.

“You’re a pathetic coward,” you whisper, almost shy to curse him but the words feel good leaving your mouth, like steam venting from a pressure cooker.

SLAP. 

“You ever do your own work? Or just ride other people’s backs while jerking off to the sound of your own voice?” 

SLAP. 

“Useless piece of shit—god, you couldn’t lead a fucking team of toddlers without crying.”

SLAP.

Jake’s mouth parts like he’s drowning and your voice is air. His hips twitch beneath you, subtle but undeniable, a reflex he can’t hide anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, like a prayer with cracked knees. “I’m… I’m sorry.” The way he says it—shaky, shame-drenched, utterly sincere—does something awful to your insides. Your cunt clenches around nothing

“Sorry?” you echo, voice rising just enough to cut the air like silk pulled taut. “You think that’s gonna cut it, you filthy little fuck?”

SLAP.

“Yes!” Jake gasps, and his voice is so wrecked, so gone, it nearly makes you moan. “Yes—I’m sorry!”

And then suddenly—without any warning—he pulls you on top of him, like his body just knows where you belong. You straddle him instinctively, the move so fluid it feels choreographed, and now you’re above him, your dress riding up your thighs, your weight grounding him to reality like some punishing fever dream.

The couch creaks a bit under you, but neither of you care. Jake lies back like an offering, eyes half-lidded and lip trembling, hips pressing up in slow, helpless thrusts like he’s trying to fuck through his slacks and into your core without permission.

Every slap now lands with purpose, with rhythm, your palm stinging and his face pinked with marks that scream I want this. And he’s moaning for each one—hands clutching your thighs like he’s scared you’ll vanish, like he’s trying to burn your shape into his memory.

“P-please,” he whines, eyes rolling back just a little, “please, don’t stop, keep going—fuck—”

You realize then you’re grinding into him rhythmically, like your body figured out what it needed long before your brain caught up. Your panties are soaked, dress bunched above your hips, and his cock—hard, thick, fucking twitching—presses up against you in the most delicious way.

And god, the sight of him?

He’s ruined.

His hair’s a mess, his shirt wrinkled like it’s been gripped and yanked—by you—his face flushed, eyes glazed over, lips parted like he’s seconds from begging with tears in his lashes. He looks like a man hanging on by a thread, and you’re the one holding the scissors.

Your hand finds his throat. Not to squeeze—just to touch, trying to own. Your fingers brush that frantic little pulse at the base of his neck, and Jake gasps—one of those sharp, gut-punched sounds—and tilts his head back without hesitation, baring himself like he’s got no shame left. And maybe he doesn’t.

Your thighs clench around him, hips still grinding slow and firm, your smile turning downright predatory now, because fuck, this man is beautiful like this. Ruined, desperate, and utterly yours.

And the sickest part? The part that makes heat pool in your stomach and twist behind your ribs like fire licking up your spine?

He’s smiling too. Like he’s finally found where he belongs.

You're straddling the line of a terrible mistake, and you know it. Jake Sim—your boss—is now lifting you as your legs close around him, carrying you through his room, to his bed, just to kneel between your thighs like a worshipper at the altar, and somehow, you’re the one in control. Not because you should be. Because he needs you, he wants you to be.

His lips brush your ankle, soft and trembling like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. His kiss isn't a declaration—it’s a plea. And you let him. You let him, because deep down, you've always known Jake didn’t want a woman who waited for his command—he wanted one who would ruin him.

You cock your head, letting the silence stretch. “So that’s what you like, Mr. Sim?” The mockery in your tone is gentle, like silk hiding a knife. “You want to be punished? Humiliated?”

His body jerks. Visibly. Shamefully. He nods, almost moaning from the idea of it. The sound is broken, needy, and completely unfiltered. He nods—frantic. Eyes wide, pupils blown, gorgeous lips parted like he’s about to confess something filthy and forbidden.

“Undress.” you order, and the sight of this grown man stumbling on unbuttoning and getting out of his pants is the cutest shit you ever saw suddenly.

You lift your heel to his cheek when he knelt back—still tender, pink from earlier—and drag the sharp arch of it down his throat, tracing the vein pulsing beneath skin. He doesn’t recoil. He leans into it, breathless. Then, with a shift of your leg, you press the sole of your shoe directly against his chest and push. Hard.

He gasps, then groans—like he wants to beg but can’t choose between pain and praise.

“You like that?” you murmur, increasing the pressure.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he pants, squirming under your foot. “Don’t stop. Please…”

Your gaze drops to the dark patch blooming at the front of his boxers. Pre-cum stains the cotton, making it cling to every thick vein and curve of his cock. He’s twitching—throbbing—with desperation. It’s obscene, really. You haven’t even touched him, not really, and he’s already soaked like a teenager with a forbidden crush.

"God," you exhale, voice thick with amusement. "You’re soaking through for me, aren’t you, Jake?"

He chokes on a moan. The sound is pitiful. His hips jerk against the heel of your foot like he’s hoping for just enough friction to make him cum like a dog. And when he starts to kiss your leg—soft, reverent kisses that trail from your ankle to your thigh—you freeze him with a single word.

“Stop.”

He stiffens instantly. His face—red—jerks up, guilt shining in his eyes. You don’t say anything at first. Just stare at him. Let him writhe in the silence.

“Take my shoes off. Now.”

He obeys immediately—scrambling like a man whose life depends on it. Kissing the strap, whispering apologies as he unbuckles each heel. His fingers shake the whole time. You can practically feel how hard he is without looking.

Once bare, you remove your panty, spreading those legs, letting him see exactly what he’s begging for. His eyes darken instantly. Mouth falls open. He looks ruined already—and you haven’t even let him taste.

“Eyes on me, Jake.”

Fuck keep using his name. He loves it.

He nods slowly, almost reverent, eying you and your cunt like he couldn’t choose who gave the orders. His hands ghost up your thighs—asking silently, needing permission like his life depends on your mercy. You don’t grant it, but don’t stop him either. You just watch as his fingers reach closer and closer producing that electric feeling, till he reaches your folds, his breath catches audibly. 

Fuck, You’re soaked. His eyes flutter shut, like the sight alone sends him reeling. But the second his fingertips twitch forward—

“No fingers,” you say.

He freezes. His voice is nearly a whimper. “C-can I use my mouth?”

You pause, mischievous. Tilt your head like you’re thinking about it. Like the wet heat of your pussy throbbing for him isn’t already an answer enough.

“You can try. But you stop when I say. Understood?”

“Yes. Anything.”

And then he dives in. There’s no finesse. No gentle buildup. Just hunger. Jake eats you like a man starved, no like a freaking golden retriever—face buried between your legs, licking and sucking like every inch of your pussy is holy and he’s dying for it. His moans vibrate against your clit, tongue sliding in messy, frantic circles, sloppy and chaotic like he can’t think straight.

He’s a total mess, with like, no experience. And it’s perfect.

“You’re terrible at this,” you mutter, thighs trembling and back arching despite the insult. “Is this how you always eat pussy, Jake? Like some starved dog?”

The moan he lets out is devastating. Deep, guttural. He shoves his tongue into you like he’s trying to answer with action, not words. You curse, “fuck, FUCK !” His big nose grinds against your clit with every thrust, and the heat building inside you is blistering.

Then he breaks the rhythm—again. Too desperate. Too frantic, trying to breathe a bit. And you almost came by being denied. You want him in you. Now. 

“Jake—stop.”

But he doesn’t.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locks you in place, and devours you some more. His hips are literally fucking helplessly into nothing but thick air. His mouth chants his devotion, tongue trembling from the effort as he fucks you with it, drowning in your slick.

And your orgasm hits you like a thunderclap—sudden, violent, raw. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head suffocating him, voice cracking on his name like a command and a curse all at once.

"Stop! Jake! Fuck!"

He doesn’t. He moans against your cunt like he’s proud of breaking you, lips and chin soaked, tongue still lapping at the mess you made for him.

You shove him back with a kick—heart still thundering. He looks up at you, dazed and smiling like a boy who just won the lottery. His face is wrecked. Hair a mess. Cock visibly leaking like he might’ve come just a little from tasting you.

You grab him by the back of his hair, yanking his head up, your lips cruel inches from his.

“You didn’t listen, Jake.”

He winces. Nods. But his cock twitches. He freaking loves this.

“I told you to stop,” you say, voice hot, “You didn’t, so…” You smile slowly and mercilessly. “You don’t get to come.”

His face crumples. “What? Please—please, I just wanted to make you feel good—”

You lean in, let your lips brush his.

“No. Good night Jake.”

Jake looks pathetic. Absolutely wrecked, lips swollen, cheeks flushed like he’s run a marathon instead of just begging to come. His hand darts out, trembling like he’s on the verge of cardiac arrest, and he wraps his finger around your wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispers, voice shredded. “You don’t have to touch me. Just… stay. Please. I won’t ask for anything.”

Right. Because that’s worked so well for him so far.

You glance down. He’s sprawled out like a cautionary tale—cock twitching uselessly, leaking against the waistband of his briefs. His hair is damp and curling at the edges, eyes wide and wet. And, God, the way it turns you on should be illegal in at least five states.

You sigh. It’s performative, but you let it be. “Fine,” you mutter. “But I’m showering first.”

“I’ll do it,” he blurts. Too fast and desperate. “I-I’ll wash you. Please.”

You should say no. You should. But instead, you tilt your head, curious. Maybe it’s the power trip still humming in your bloodstream. Maybe you just want to see how far he’ll go. So you let him follow.

You undress—slow, deliberate, aware of every inch of skin as it’s revealed. You’re not shy, not really, but there’s something oddly fragile about it. Like this version of you—this one he sees—is a new animal altogether. Jake touches you with his desperate eyes. He watches, jaw slack, eyes like you’re the first woman he ever saw.

In the water, he’s reverent and very careful. Lathers your shoulders, your back, your gorgeous breast. His hands shake when they reach your thighs. But he never slips. Never tries. Not where you ache. Not where he’s dying to be.

It's sick, how good that makes you feel. And it pleases him like nothing else to see you like that, breathing heavily at every touch. Holding onto the bathtub when his hand slides down your thigh.

When it’s over, sadly, he helps you into a robe. Like some kind of tragic gentleman. But his cock—still hard, still untouched—presses against your ass as he wraps the fabric around you. Just for a second. Just enough.

You don’t flinch,don’t comment, cause of course you’re dying to have it in you right now. But of course, he panics.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice flat, pretending you don’t really care. Jake nods into your shoulder like a punished schoolboy. “It’ll die anyway,” he mutters.

Spoiler alert : it did not. After shower, in his new briefs, he’s doing a poor job hiding just how painfully alive he still is. He crawls into bed next to you, still like this. He doesn’t try anything, doesn’t speak. Just folds himself against your side, forehead to your belly, arms wrapped around you like you’re some human security blanket. You card your fingers through his hair, lazy, soothing. Like he’s a dog you’re rewarding for good behavior.

“I love this,” he whispers, voice raw, earnest. “I love being under you…”

You don’t respond right away, you just keep stroking. Letting the silence stretch. Then, finally you speak : “I guess this makes us dom and sub now, huh?”

His head snaps up. Eyes huge. Like you’ve just freaking proposed to him. “Y-yes! I mean—only if you allow it. If that’s what you want.”

You look at him. Really look. This man—flushed, panting, cock caged and aching—would probably crawl across glass if you asked right now. And he always felt… Different. So…

“Yeah…” you say slowly. “But I’m not… Like… very… experienced, you know ?”

He lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. “Believe me,” he says, “you really, really are a natural.”

And that's how it started. The very next day you woke up like being a dom was a task on your to-do list. You made sure to tell Jake that nothing would happen until you were prepared. And “prepared” had its own definition for you. You documented, watched a lot of porn and blogs about it, visited shops after specialised shops to buy some accessories. For you it was serious, or at least you wanted it to prove to him you where. But three days became a week. And a week two, clueless of how pant up Jake was, waiting, observing you from so close but not even sparing him a glance.

Until he booked a meeting with you. a five minute before hour. It almost made me laugh. How many grammar faults he made and how the hour was strangely badly chosen. still you clicked on “accept”, and added a comment :

Be prepared. It’s gonna be the real thing.

🕗

And that night when you enter his office, Jake is on his knees.

Literally. Hands clutching his thighs like his own body might betray him at any second, head bowed low. You pause at the door, heels clicking against polished tile, and glance behind you—because what if it wasn’t you standing there? What if some clueless intern wandered into this fever dream instead?

It’s almost tragic how far gone he is. Almost...

He hasn't even looked up. Poor baby’s probably been like this for twenty minutes, edging himself in anticipation alone. All because you told him this meeting would be the real deal. That today would be official. He must’ve short-circuited from the promise alone.

Well, time to step into your role.

You close the door gently behind you. The satisfying click echoes like a gunshot in the quiet office. Your black dress is obscene — tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination, short enough to start a scandal, and paired with the same high heels he once moaned into as he kissed each pointed toe like a prayer.

and Jake? He’s visibly hard from the sound of your footsteps alone.

You walk toward him, and his thighs tense at the sight. He doesn't dare look up. Doesn’t need to. He knows who it is. You crouch down beside him, slow, calculated, a predator humoring her prey. Your fingers thread through his hair and gently pat.

“Good boy.”

He whimpers. Actually whimpers. You smirk when you feel the full hardness beneath his slacks with your hand..

“Pathetic,” you murmur, clicking your tongue in his ear. “Getting hard just from the sound of my heels?”

“I’m sorry…”

Your voice drops. “Are you in your right mind, Mister Sim? Should we reschedule this meeting for a time when you’ve got some self-control?”

“No, no, no—I-I’ll behave, I promise,” he rushes out.

You laugh, soft and dangerous. “Come here.”

You stride to his desk—his desk—and make yourself at home in the chair he usually owns like a throne. Now, It’s yours. He stands, hesitant, and when he sees you sitting there, legs crossed, perfectly composed—his expression crumples with want. Fuck he wants to crawl to you directly under the desk to serve you, but he walks and sit in front of you.

You reach into your branded bag and produce a thin stack of papers and two small boxes.

Back to business.

“Here’s the contract,” you say, voice clipped and professional, like this is just another quarterly strategy meeting. “I marked everything I’m willing to do or try in blue. You’ll go through it, mark your interests in green, and we’ll see where we align. I’ve included safeword options, conditionals, limits... all the usual.”

He blinks at the paper like it’s his acceptance letter into heaven. He takes it, reverent, then actually starts reading — not just flipping through, but really absorbing it. You watch his mouth part slightly at the sight of all your “X”s. Fuck keep it together, you need to look cool.

Bondage:Leash and collar – X.

Gag – X.

Cuffs – X.

Genital cage and toys– X.

Impact and Sensation Play:Biting. Hair pulling. Slapping. Sensory deprivation. Asphyxiation. All X. All yes.

And when he skims to the intimacy section, his whole posture shifts — hips twitch, breath hitches.

Unprotected sex. Orgasm. Kissing. Fluids. All marked. You didn’t even flinch.

But the part that breaks him?

The "I want to feel like..." and "I don’t want..." pages. You were for real. Letting him feel vulnerable out in clear, responsible terms. The aftercare checklist is long, thoughtful, even tender.

It’s the final confirmation: you didn’t do this on a whim. You mean it. You want him. Like this. His eyes shimmer slightly. Your boss. On the edge of crying from a form. Then he hesitates shyly. Circles two spots you left uncrossed.

You lift a brow as he gives back the form for you to consider.

“Golden shower and Exhibition “ you sight “I’m… not sure… But we can discuss it later.” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he replies too fast, nodding like a bobblehead on a bumpy ride. “That’s—totally fine.”

You hand him the smaller of the two boxes.

He opens it. A sleek, delicate pair of glasses. Not prescription. Just a look — something dignified, calm, an elegant reminder of his submission. “You wear those when you’re mine,” you say. opening the second box, “The collar’s only for play. But the glasses? That’s the symbol for our daily life.”

He slides the glasses on immediately — no hesitation, no second thoughts. They sit perfectly on his face, softening the sharpness in his jaw, giving him the exact look you imagined: cute, obedient, and just a little wrecked.

“So… that means I’m yours now?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hope. It’s the kind of question you’ve already answered a thousand times without words by now, but you nod anyway — slow, steady, deliberate.

Pride blooms in your chest when his whole body slumps in relief.

He rises to his feet with shaky hands and then—without warning—sinks again. This time not to kneel, but to wrap both arms around your leg, hugging it with childlike desperation. And maybe it's the shortness of your dress. Maybe it’s just the way he clings, forehead resting against your thigh like it’s his new religion.

But when he shifts slightly… his face buries right against your heat. And you forgot one crucial detail.

No underwear.

You hear the shaky gasp he lets out when his lips brush against bare skin. Like the air’s been knocked out of him.

Then he’s groaning. Mouthing at you through the fabric, or lack thereof, completely unhinged, trying to kiss your cunt like a happy dog. His hands tighten on your hips. One thumb hooks the edge of your dress and tries to push it up like he has to see it—like looking might kill him but not looking is worse.

He moves back a little and what he does almost kills you from chock. He literally starts to act like a dog, tongue out, heavy breath. heavy leed begging eyes. his tongue licks your thighs, giving eyes to your cunt, sending the message.

“Let me give you pleasure mistress—” he pants like a dog, “I’ll be good.”

God, you want to. Your legs twitch with the effort to stay composed. But instead, your hand fists in his hair and tugs him back—not roughly, just enough.

“Drive me home. Now.”

The tension follows you too in the elevator. He takes your hand— this time with fingers laced with yours. As if the act alone might earn him another kind word. Halfway down, his head dips into the crook of your neck and stays there. You hear the shaky breath he takes, then another.

“You smell like... so good,” he mutters.

You scoff. “And you smell like desperation.”

He chuckles, but the sound dies in his throat when his arms wrap around you from behind— tight, possessive —and his hips press into you instinctively. Grinding a bit, even. Like he can’t help himself anymore, he wants you so bad.

“Jake,” you warn, as he jerks back. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I... Didn’t mean— I just—”

You don’t look at him, but your smirk is visible in the elevator’s reflection. He wants it so bad.

In his car, he speeds.Of course he does. Your legs are crossed in his passenger seat, the scent of you still thick in the air, and his hands tap on the wheel like he’s one red light away from losing his mind entirely.

“I'll gag you if you keep speeding.” The words drop just to tease him for your fun. And you don’t need to look to know his cock twitches.

“You’re still speeding, Jake.”

“I—”

“Keep going and you’re going to be punished for real, just telling...”

🕗

Jake's practically vibrating out of his skin the second you walk through the door.

Eyes locked on you like a dog waiting for the bell to ring, panting through his nose, fists clenched at his sides like if he doesn’t get your hands on him in the next thirty seconds, he might combust right there in your hallway.

And maybe he would. Maybe you should let him. Instead, you toss your bag to the side and kick your heels off without ceremony, not sparing him a glance. His cock’s already hard. You can see it straining under his slacks like it's got a heartbeat of its own.

Pathetic.

“Bedroom,” you say without looking. “Now.”

He scrambles. Actually stumbles. Nearly trips over the threshold like his legs aren’t working right — and you, patient thing that you are, grab him by the tie and spin him around so hard his back ends up smacking open the door of your room.

He gasps.

You don’t give him time to recover. One hand in his hair, the other squeezing his jaw until his mouth opens like instinct, and then you're kissing him like punishment — bite, tongue, zero softness. You bite his bottom lip until he whines, and it’s only then you really look at him.

Glasses crooked. Tie wrinkled. Pupils blown out like he’s five seconds away from begging.

You smile. Good.

“You said you’d behave,” you say, dragging the tie like a leash, walking him toward the bed like you’re guiding a fucking lamb to slaughter.

“I tried,” he pants, already flushed. “I—I swear, I tried. I Didn’t touch myself once. Not since last time. Not since” you grab his hard on, “—fuck—please—”

He’s babbling.

You shove him flat on the mattress and climb on top of him in one smooth motion, thighs framing his hips, your weight pressing down on his cock. He bucks up like a reflex. Dumb move. You slap his cheek — not hard, but enough.

He gasps. Blinks. Nods.

“Good boy,” you murmur, tone razor sharp. “Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll break them.”

He doesn’t even argue. Just melts. Spreads his arms out above his head like he wants to be tied down. So you do —his belt. You grab, and tie him up. His breathing’s already shaky, cock twitching where it presses against you. You lean down, letting your tits graze his face. His tongue sticks out like instinct, trying to lick, suck, anything— but you yank back. Now he can’t move.

“No.”

He whines. Actually whines. It’s disgusting.

“You wanna touch?” you ask, voice sweet and awful. “Want it?”

“Please,” he chokes. “Please, I’ll be good. Let me—fuck—let me leave marks, I want you bruised, I want to fucking bite you—”

You laugh, throwing your head back. “You?” you mock, grinding down against his cock. “You can barely speak without begging. You think you’re gonna do anything without my permission?”

He moans. Loud. His cock twitches violently under you, and you can see the panic settle in his eyes. He’s close. Way too fucking close.

“Haven’t even fucked you yet,” you whisper, dragging your nails down his chest. “And you’re already about to cum like a virgin on prom night.”

“I—fuck, I can’t help it—please, if you slow down—just a second—”

You plant your knees on either side of his head and sit on his face. He cries out with a smile on his face— muffled, frantic — and latches on like he’s starving. His tongue is wild, sloppy, more desperation than technique, and you grind against his mouth like it’s yours — because it is.

“This is where you belong,” you groan, hips rolling. “Under me. Crying. Leaking. Useless unless I’m using you.”

He moans, so loud it vibrates through your whole body. His cock? Red and angry and twitching untouched. He thrusts into the air, desperate for friction, and you just press down harder on his face. He chokes. It’s beautiful.

You ride his tongue until he’s crying and slows down.

Then you finally slide off, and he gasps like he’s coming up for air after drowning—because he was. His face is wrecked. His glasses are somewhere on top of his head. His mouth’s slick with spit and slick and somehow pride. His chest heaves.

You grab his face with your hand, waking him from his daze.

“Focus.”

He moans like you kissed him and you untie him.

“Collar,” you demand.

He fumbles for it with shaking hands, holding it out like a fucking offering, like you’re a god he’s trying to appease. “C-can you put it on me ?”

You snap it around his throat without ceremony. He shivers.

“Good. Now lie back and don’t move.”

You climb up, pull your dress over your head, bare and wet and glowing, and he’s practically crying just from looking.

His cock leaks like it’s apologizing. You press your foot down — slow, cruel — on his cock and balls, and he howls.

“W-wait—please—don’t—if you—if you keep doing that, I’ll—I’ll cum—!”

You press harder.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not until I tell you.”

“I’m trying—fuck—I’m trying—”

You lean in — breath warm against his ear, one hand wrapped around his throat, firm but teasing, just enough to make him shiver.

“You’re lucky I don’t blindfold you, tie you up, and edge you for a fucking week,” you whisper, slow and mean. “No cumming. No touching. Just my voice in your ear while I whip you until you cry for it.”

He whimpers. It’s not even a sound anymore — just breath and broken vowels. His eyes roll back, his cock leaking like it’s begging to be used, untouched and pulsing like it could burst if you so much as looked at it too long.

You spit in your palm, rub yourself raw until you’re soaking, then sink down in one brutal drop.

He screams.

Not a moan. A scream. The sound punches out of him like you knocked the wind from his lungs.

And then you ride.

Hard. Fast. Messy. Punishing. Like you’re trying to fuck him into the mattress. Like your orgasm is more important than his survival. His hands are useless — clawing at the sheets, at the air, at nothing — because you haven’t let him touch you, and he knows better than to break that rule now.

He’s moaning too loud. Too desperate. You slap a hand over his mouth just to muffle the chaos spilling from him. Your hips don’t stop — bouncing, rolling, dragging him to the edge with every ruthless grind. His cock’s buried so deep you can feel it in your gut, and the way he looks up at you — glassy-eyed, mouth stuffed full of your palm, pure reverence — it’s enough to send your stomach twisting.

And then it shifts. Something flips in the air. You catch yourself leaning in, just a little too close. You’re still in control — you always are — but something about the way he’s watching you now, fucked-out and worshipping, makes your rhythm falter. Just once.

Jake sees it. Of course he does.

You see the exact second he realizes: you’re falling, too.

And he fucking loves it.

He’s chasing your orgasm now like it’s the only thing that matters. Like if he gives it to you, maybe — just maybe — you’ll kiss him.

You don’t say it. Don’t ask for it. But he knows.

He flips you with shaky hands, your legs locked tight around his waist before you even land. He fucks into you like he’s losing his mind — sloppy, desperate thrusts, slamming into you like he needs you to feel it.

“I’m close— fuck— I want you to cum too—”

“Me too,” you gasp, wrecked and ragged. One hand slams against the headboard as the other claws at his back. “Harder— Jake, please—”

And he delivers.

His rhythm turns frantic, almost cruel. You’re a mess beneath him, crying out, moaning his name in broken syllables.

“C-can I stay inside?” he begs, barely able to speak. “Please— I— fuck—”

You nod, frantic. “Kiss me.”

And he does.

He dives in like he’s starving for it, lips crashing into yours, moaning into your mouth as he cums — thick, hot spurts, wave after wave, his hips stuttering through it, unable to stop. The kiss is wet, messy, all teeth and breath and desperation. His cock twitches inside you, still buried to the hilt, still pushing in shallow little thrusts that make you shake.

It’s too much. Too wet. Too hot. Too full.

And it tips you.

You cum on his cock with a strangled cry, nails digging into his arms, your mouth still on his, tasting him, gasping into him as your whole body tightens and then breaks.

But you don’t stop kissing. Not even then.

His lips stay on yours through the aftershocks. Sloppy, slow, still trembling. His head dips to your neck, mouthing at the skin, soft kisses, little groans as he licks at your pulse.

You twitch under him every time his mouth moves, still too sensitive. He hisses at the way your walls pulse around him even now.

“Was I good?” you ask, breathless.

He nods into your neck like a kid, voice hoarse, cracked. “Yes. You— You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

You grin. Can’t help it. Can’t hide it.

“So fucking perfect, huh?” you echo, teasing. And he kisses you again. And again. And again. Little kiss bombs, dotting your cheeks, your lips, your jaw — and you finally grab his face and still him.

Your smile twists into something darker.

“This is only the start,” you purr, your voice all breath and promise, panting into his mouth. “I have so many things I want to try.”

He nods — fast, frantic — like he needs it.

Like he wants to be wrecked. Used. Owned. And maybe, if he’s lucky — loved.

You’re going to give it to him. Every filthy, fucked-up fantasy.

Again. And again. And again.

Part.2

MASTERLIST

Author’s Note:

Finally here for the comeback, lol!! It took me so long to post this because I kept second-guessing if I really loved every part of it... But then I thought: just do it, fighting girl! 💪💗@veilstqr — knowing you were waiting for it seriously helped me push through and finish it~ Hope I didn’t disappoint!

Don’t just lurk, darling. Reblog it. Leave a comment. Let me feel you. Your silence is not nearly as thrilling as your reaction.

So go on... show me you're watching.

© 2025 Lassiie. All rights reserved. No reproduction, distribution, or translation permitted without prior written consent. Protected under international copyright law.

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒sugar rush ❀ lee heeseung

⌗ in which . . . you’re baking late at night when lee heeseung walks in and the quiet kitchen shifts from playful comfort into something heated

流星 ໑ . . bf!heeseung x fem!reader

⌗ includes . . . smut (18+), established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), food play, use of kitchen tools as sensory props, kitchen setting, dominant dynamic, dirty talk, sensory-heavy descriptions ➜ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this reflects reality | wc: 2.6k

♪ el’s bubble: okay, kinkiest thing i've probably ever written . . i have to get off my phone and reflect 😢 requested by anon, thank you ! not my best work imo, please ignore any errors, none of this has been proofread and i ended up changing a lot of things last minute 😂 enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are always open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ

tags: @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @kristynaaah @psychicdazestrawberry @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll | send an ask if you’d like to be added ˙𐃷˙

now playing . . . sweet by cigarettes after sex

The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the apartment, save for the gentle clinking of a metal spoon against a ceramic bowl. 

You hummed along to the silent melody, lost in the sweet, comforting world of late-night baking. 

Dressed in one of Heeseung’s oversized t-shirts that hung loosely over your frame, paired with a tiny pair of shorts peeking out from beneath, you felt perfectly at ease. 

The kitchen air was thick and warm, smelling deliciously of vanilla, sugar, and melting chocolate.

A tray of perfectly golden cupcakes sat cooling on a rack. At the same time, you meticulously piped swirls of creamy buttercream onto another batch, adding a scattering of rainbow sprinkles to each one. 

You were so engrossed, head tilted in concentration, that you didn't hear the soft shuffle of bare feet until a warm presence leaned against the counter beside you.

"Mmm, something smells good," a low, raspy voice rumbled, still thick with sleep.

You jumped, nearly smearing frosting across your cheeks. "Heeseung! That scared me!" 

You turned to see him, hair mussed, eyes still heavy-lidded, but a small smile playing on his lips. 

He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare, and you felt a familiar warmth bloom in your chest at the sight of him.

"I couldn't sleep," he mumbled, reaching out a finger and swiping a dollop of frosting from the bowl. He licked it slowly, his eyes closing in bliss. "This is amazing."

"Hey, hold up, that's for the cupcakes!" you playfully scolded, swatting his hand away. "Go back to bed, Hee. These aren't even close to ready yet."

He grunted, leaning his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. "But I'm really, really hungry, baby. Can't I just have one?"

"No, you cannot," you giggled, trying to push him away gently. "They need to be fully decorated, and you're in my way, mister."

"Just one little bite? Please?" he pleaded, his voice a low purr as he nipped playfully at your earlobe.

"Hee!" You swivelled, pushing him back with a hand on his bare chest. "Stop that, you're going to make me mess up." You laughed, genuinely enjoying his sleepy antics. 

This was literally your life. 

These quiet, playful moments in the late hours were all part of your routine after having been living under the same roof as Heeseung. 

You turned back to your task, reaching for a bottle of chocolate syrup from the top shelf. 

As you stretched, your shirt rode up a little, and the hem of your shorts rose with it. You leaned forward, craning your neck to see the label, completely oblivious to the sudden, subtle shift in the atmosphere behind you.

Heeseung had been about to steal another taste of frosting, but his eyes had drifted. 

The soft, buttery curve of your lower back, the smooth line of your thigh, and then, a fleeting glimpse of delicate lace peeking out from beneath the fabric of your shorts. 

It was just a flash, a whisper of ivory against your skin, but it was enough.

More than enough, actually.

The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense focus. He went completely still, his half-raised hand dropping slowly to his side. 

The sweet smell of vanilla and chocolate suddenly seemed to amplify, becoming almost intoxicating.

You finally retrieved the syrup, turning back with a cheerful hum. "Alright, now for the chocolate drizzle..." You trailed off, noticing him. 

Damn it.

He wasn't even looking at the cupcakes anymore. 

His gaze was fixed on you, heavy and unblinking, his earlier playful expression entirely gone.

"Heeseung?" you asked, a little confused. "What's wrong? Is there something on my face?" You touched your cheek self-consciously.

He didn't answer, just took a slow, deliberate step closer. His eyes, usually so warm and expressive, were now dark, almost predatory. 

The playful hunger he'd shown for the cupcakes was now directed solely at you, and it was a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Hee? Baby? Hello?" you tried again, a nervous flutter starting in your stomach. 

The air in the kitchen, once warm and comforting, now felt thick with an entirely different kind of heat.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip through the fabric of his shirt. His touch was light, yet possessive, sending a shiver through you. 

"You look really pretty right now," he murmured, his voice deeper, rougher than before. "So, so sweet."

He moved closer still, caging you against the cool marble of the counter. 

The half-decorated cupcakes, the bowls of frosting, and the sprinkles all seemed to blur into the background. 

His eyes devoured you, tracing the line of your collarbone, lingering on the soft swell of your chest beneath his shirt.

"Heeseung, what are you doing? I'm in the middle of baking," you protested weakly, your voice barely a whisper. 

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the sudden, desperate intensity of his gaze. 

This wasn't the playful Heeseung from moments ago. 

Hell no.

This was something else entirely.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Forget the baking," he breathed, his hand sliding up your side, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. "I want to taste you instead."

A beat.

Before you could even fully process his words, his mouth was on your neck, a soft groan rumbling in his chest as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin beneath your ear. 

His hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body, pulling you flush against him until you could feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against your shorts.

"The fuck, Heeseung, wait," you tried, a weak protest, but your body was already betraying you, arching into his touch. 

The rich confectionery scent was suddenly mixed with his intoxicating musk, filling your senses.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark and burning. "Please," he whispered, a raw, needy edge to his voice that made your knees tremble. "Just... please give me a taste."

He kissed you then, deeply and urgently, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting of frosting and something uniquely, deliciously him. 

His hands found the hem of his shirt you were wearing, easily pushing it up and over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor amidst a scattering of rainbow sprinkles.

The cool air of the kitchen hit your bare skin, but you barely noticed, consumed by the fire he was igniting. 

He broke the kiss, his eyes dropping to your exposed chest, a low growl escaping his throat.

"Gosh, you're going to make a mess, I don’t want to clean up so much," you managed, a faint protest as his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of your breast.

He chuckled, a dark and husky sound. 

"That’s good, baby. I love making a mess," his thumb grazed your nipple, making it harden instantly. 

"Especially when it's this fucking sweet."

He bent his head, his mouth closing over one peak, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. His free hand slid down, pushing aside the thin fabric of your shorts, seeking the soft warmth between your thighs. 

The cool marble counter pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the burning heat his body was generating.

"Heeseung," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his messy hair as he suckled greedily. 

The kitchen, once a sanctuary of domestic calm, had transformed into a playground of raw desire. Bowls clattered as his elbow nudged them, a half-finished cupcake toppled, its frosting smearing across the counter. A sticky trail of chocolate syrup lay forgotten beside a whisk.

He pulled away from your breast, his eyes still heavy-lidded, but now blazing with a possessive hunger that made your core clench. 

He reached for a bottle of whipped cream from the fridge, shaking it vigorously before spraying a decadent dollop onto your stomach.

"So good," he murmured, licking it clean with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, making you writhe against him. "So, so, so fucking good, baby."

His mouth moved lower, tasting, teasing, until you were practically melting against the counter. 

He was insatiable, devouring you with a desperate urgency that left no room for thought, only sensation. 

Your ragged breaths now drowned out the soft hum of the refrigerator, the soft moans escaping your lips, and the frantic rhythm of his touch.

He lifted you, settling you onto the counter amidst the forgotten baking supplies, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. 

The cool marble, the sticky frosting, the scattered sprinkles – it was all a deliciously messy backdrop to the heat building between you.

He peeled your shorts away only to be met with a teasing glimpse of lace, and his hands tightened on your thighs as though restraining himself was rapidly becoming impossible. 

“You wear this while making cupcakes and expect me to behave?” he rasped, voice thick with disbelief, fingers hooking into the delicate sides before tugging the lace down in one impatient motion, his stare turning darker as he left you completely exposed beneath him. 

Heeseung's dark eyes burned into your exposed pussy, splayed wide on the counter amid the chaos of scattered bowls — thick buttercream frosting oozing, chocolate ganache pooling, sugar dusting everything like filthy snow. 

The air hung thick with the thick, sugary aroma clashing against your sharp, heady scent of arousal. 

He licked his lips slowly, predatory. "Fuck, baby, your cunt's weeping for me already. So puffy, so slick, lips parted like they need my mouth buried in 'em. I'm gonna tongue-fuck this juicy thing until you're a shaking mess, begging to soak my face."

You shivered, thighs trembling as he draped your legs over his broad shoulders, knees hooked high to splay you obscenely. 

His strong hands gripped your inner thighs, thumbs digging in to hold you open without mercy. 

He snatched a spoon from the mess, scooping a dollop of frosting, but instead of your core, he smeared it thick across your sensitive inner thighs, cool cream trailing up toward your crease, inches from your heat, making your skin prickle and twitch. 

"Gonna paint these slutty thighs first, make 'em sticky for me to lick clean while I devour your dripping slit. Feel that chill? Your body's already begging for more."

"Heeseung, baby... please," you whined, hips rolling instinctively, clenching on nothing as the frosting melted warm against your flesh.

He smirked, dragging the spoon's edge along your thigh muscles, pressing firmly to massage the cream deeper into your skin, sending tingles racing toward your core. 

Then he grabbed the piping bag’s rounded, flexible form, brushing against your skin as he steadied it in his grip, making your muscles jump, blood rushing hotter to your system.

"Spread wider for me, you greedy girl. Let me mark these thighs red while your pussy throbs untouched. Look at it, all shiny and desperate." He held the piping bag steady as his other hand guided your thighs further apart , exposing every inch of your pulsing entrance.

His hot breath ghosted over your clit first, making it throb harder. 

Then his tongue struck — flat and broad, lapping from your hole upward in one long, greedy swipe, collecting your tangy slick. 

No utensils here, thankfully, it was just his wicked mouth claiming you. 

He groaned deep, the vibration humming straight through your core. "Shit, you taste like pure sin, gorgeous. Salty-sweet nectar. Gonna slurp every drop while these thighs quiver around my head."

You moaned loud, fingers twisting in his hair, yanking him closer. 

“Ugh, keep doing that, baby.”

He dove in ravenously, lips sealing around your cunt to suck hard, pulsing pulls that hollowed his cheeks. 

His tongue flicked the peak relentlessly, tip battering it side-to-side, then circling tight spirals. 

Below, he thrust his tongue into your entrance, spearing shallow but insistent, fucking your walls with wet, obscene thrusts. 

Slurping sounds filled the kitchen as he sucked your lips into his mouth, tugging them gently between sucks, releasing with filthy pops.

While his face stayed glued to your cunt, he reached for the spoon, dipping its bowl in chocolate ganache. 

He ran the curved underside of the spoon lightly over your ass cheeks, the cool metal gliding across your skin in slow, teasing passes, dipping into the crease but never breaching, just hovering at the rim, making your hips buck wildly into his devouring mouth. 

"Feel the spoon tickling your tight ass? Chocolate dripping down, begging to mix with your come. But this sloppy cunt? All mine to tongue. Clench on it, baby. Fuck, milk my tongue like the cock it wishes it was."

Your breaths came in gasps, body arching off the counter. "Ugh—fuck, yes… Baby—faster."

"That's my filthy girl," he rasped against your folds, pulling back a slick string of your arousal, connecting his lips to your pussy. 

He snatched the icing spatula next, its side gliding over your lower belly, pressing into your hip bones, then down to slap lightly against your clit, sending a sharp jolt through your core. 

The frosting from your thighs smeared onto his chin as he plunged back in, nose grinding your clit while his tongue lashed your entrance, plunging deep, curling to hit that spongy spot inside.

He hummed filthy praises into you. "Your pussy's gushing rivers, pretty. Coating my tongue, dripping down my throat. So fucking responsive, I love it. Twitching every time I flick this clit. You love being my little kitchen toy, don't you? Legs spread, thighs sticky, cunt feasted on like dessert." 

His free hand slapped your thigh with the spatula again, the sting amplifying every lick, every suck, as he alternated between vacuuming your folds and tongue-fucking your hole.

Pleasure built like a storm, coiling viciously in your gut. 

He grabbed the whisk now,its looped wires dragging slowly over your breasts, trailing down your sides, grazing your nipples through, tiny scratches raising goosebumps everywhere, indirect fire that made your pussy clamp harder on his invading tongue. 

"These wires on your tits, huh? Making your whole body buzz while I eat this perfect cunt. Push it out, grind on my face, gorgeous."

You thrashed, heels digging into his back. "Heeseung! Oh fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he growled, pulling his mouth away just as you teetered on the edge, your pussy clenching desperately in the air, slick drooling down your ass. 

He used the spoon to smear more frosting along your inner thighs and ass, the cool sweetness contrasting his hot breath as he blew teasingly over your throbbing clit. "Gonna edge this needy slit until you're sobbing. Beg for my tongue back in your sloppy hole."

"Please! Damn it, just use me, Hee!" you cried, hips humping nothing.

Satisfied, he attacked again, fiercer. 

Tongue swirling your clit in furious circles, then flattening to lap your entire pussy in broad strokes, sucking your folds clean of any stray juice. 

He added fingers to spread you wider, his digits holding your lips apart for his tongue to plunder deeper, lapping your walls, humming vibrations that shattered you.

"Come for me now, my pretty girl," he demanded, voice muffled in your heat. "Flood my mouth with that hot liquid. Drown me in your come while I lap it all up."

The dam broke. 

Waves crashed through you, your cunt spasming violently, gushing slick in rhythmic pulses against his greedy tongue. 

He drank you down, swallowing every spurt, nose rubbing your oversensitive clit to drag out the ecstasy until tears pricked your eyes and your thighs quaked uncontrollably.

He eased off slowly, licking softly through the aftershocks, cleaning every drop. Rising finally, his chin glistened with your release mixed with thigh-smeared frosting and chocolate. 

"Best meal I've ever had." He pressed a tender kiss to your sticky inner thigh, nipping the skin lightly before licking away a chocolate streak.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[audreyyyml]

NSFW! 18+ Park. Jay audio!

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Dom!PJ } Jay wasn’t a public sex kind of guy, but you loved the thrilled of someone close to catching you getting it down, sometimes rarely he agreed. You had planned out a trip to the states for a visit.. and you had a idea. On the day of the flight you had bought sex chocolates without his knowing..

Once you two passed TSA you went towards your gate area. After some time your plane was ready to leave, and you two made your way to the seats. You asked Jay to take the chocolate, it was 'supposed' to help him relax. After the plane took off he was feeling uncomfortable... You asked him what was wrong and he looked at you with complete need... Next thing you know, you are pressed up against the wall of the bathroom as Jay is giving it to you from behind, 'trying' to stay quiet.

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