you and jungwon only argue when it comes to baking. turns out that sharing an interest can turn into war when you’re dating someone like him!
measuring cups become weapons, flour always ends up in someone’s hair, and there’s always accusations of the other “not following the recipe right.”
so today, as stupid as it sounds, you two were arguing over the amount of vanilla you added into the cookies. of all hills to die on, of course jungwon had chosen vanilla extract.
you two hadn’t spoken a word since you had added two extra tablespoons, glaring at each other while the tray went into the oven.
so, when the timer went off, jungwon wordlessly slid your batch toward you. the edges were slightly too brown, just how you liked them.
you hesitated before breaking one in half, offering him the bigger piece. “still think i used too much vanilla?”
jungwon took a bite, eyes rolling. “yes,” a pause. “but these are good, baby.”
you kicked his ankle under the table. he caught your wrist that was covered in flour and pressed a kiss to your sticky fingers—vanilla flavored and all.
LEE HEESEUNG (╥﹏╥)
at first, he’d sulk quietly. the only sound in the room being the rapid clickclickclick of his controller as he aggressively mashed through his game. heeseung would play video games for a couple of hours into the silent treatment to cope, yet would always glance sideways at you to see if you’d notice his little pout face.
you weren’t even looking, but you knew—his shoulders were probably hunched forward. lower lip probably jutted out in that damn signature pout of his. the way he kept dying over and over because his mind was elsewhere.
game over had flashed on the screen for maybe the fifth time in a row, making you bite back a smirk.
you weren’t even mad anymore—just purely amused at how much he sucked at his game when he was sad. the second you shifted on the couch, his finger’s immediately paused the game.
his head whipped towards you with poorly concealed panic. “sweetheart,” heeseung called out softly, “where are you going?”
PARK JONGSEONG (๑>•̀๑)
jay would storm off dramatically, but not out of anger. he understands how all of your arguments go because truly, you could never stay mad at him for over thirty minutes.
you were so easy. he was park jongseong, anyway. he doesn’t do silent treatment. he does emergency snack procedures.
you sit there in the dining room fuming for maybe.. twenty minutes? right before the front door slams open, and there he is—arms full of takeout bags.
your eyes flickered to all the bags. you recognized every symbol. bags from your favorite bakery, boba place, and pho takeout.
he doesn’t even say anything at first. just stares at you like a sad puppy before unpacking everything out of the grocery bags onto the table.
your favorite noodles, the overpriced boba you like, even that one specific brand of chips you mentioned liking once six months ago.
he knew you so well.
SIM JAEYUN (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
one thing about jake? he could not handle the silence.
the second the fight ends, he’s already shaking with the need to fix everything. lips pouted, eyes wide, and he looks like he’s both physically and mentally wounded.
and oh god, the pouting. the way his whole face scrunched up like a golden retriever in pain. you could never resist that.
but the thing is, he doesn’t apologize with just words.
jake tests the waters, sliding closer to you inch by inch, knee bumping yours tentatively. you stiffen at the contact, but you don’t pull away.
“babyy,” he pouted, voice cracking slightly. “stop ignoring me, okay?”
you just side eye him, but he immediately pounces—pressing three, four, five rapid kisses to you cheek between each word.
“i’m—” one kiss, “sorry—” another kiss, “okay—?” three for three.
and that’s all it took for you to forgive him.
PARK SUNGHOON "( – ⌓ – )
you knew the drill. you and sunghoon are sitting in tense silent—he would give you the silent treatment. that’s how he was. something about him, hoon can never talk about his feelings with you.
but through those cold moments, it always melts at some point.
you end up falling asleep in the bedroom and when you wake, the blanket is draped casually over you when you don’t remember getting one.
your gaze follows the soft blanket's edge to find him sitting on his side of the bed, back shifted slightly away from you, and pretending to scroll on his phone.
a cup of tea sits on the nightstand, steam curling gently. it was your favorite. the one sunghoon would always tease you about drinking too much of. it’s placed just within reach, honey already stirred in.
so you sip it loudly on purpose, and his thumb stutters mid scroll.
“..you just looked cold, love.”
KIM SEONWOO ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა
you and sunoo rarely fight, but when you guys do, he deals with arguments the way he deals with most emotions—through art.
he disappears into his room without a word for an hour on end. when you finally peek inside, you of course find him hunched over his sketchbook, pencil flying across the page with quiet intensity.
sunoo doesn’t look up, but his ears turn pink, because he knows you’re there. he’s never shown you any his drawings before.
not because it’s like he doesn’t want to show you, but he’s just scared you won’t like them. he’s afraid you’ll see through him.
curiosity may kill the cat, but it didn’t for you.
because it’s not just any sketch, it’s you. in the exact sweater you’re wearing now, with that one stray hair that always falls in your face.
in the margin, scribbled in his messy handwriting: i’m sorry. you’re so much prettier in real life. :(
you don’t even say anything, just hug him from behind and press a soft kiss on his head.
NISHIMURA RIKI (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)
on the drive home, niki’s usual sweet talk wasn’t enough to win you over this time—no matter how much he tried.
you sat silent, arms crossed and body turned towards the window. niki’s hand was on your thigh, squeezing slightly every here and there, the occasional glances at you filled with confusion and frustration.
“doll,” he tried again, voice soft. “c’mon, talk to me.”
you turn your head stubbornly towards the window. the sudden swerve of the car startled you a little, grip tightening on the seatbelt. niki flips a u-turn without warning, merging into the opposite lane.
“ki, what are you—?”
“you’ll see,” he murmurs, a small but determined smile playing on his lips. ten minutes later, you two are parked outside your favorite boutique—the one you’ve been begging him to visit with you for weeks.
his hand hovers over the keys, finally cutting the engine. “..you wanna go in?” you blink. his apologies are the best.
niki doesn’t wait for an answer. he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “my treat, mm?” he adds, grinning when your resolve visibly wavers.
“and.. i’m sorry. even if you’re super mean when you’re mad.”
[enha reactions: you accidentally put on another member's shirt] >> extremely unedited!
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ HEESEUNG ♡
you feel the ache in your body before you even open your eyes, flashes from the night before floating through your mind causing a heat to settle on your cheeks and a large smile stretching your lips. heeseung moved like a man possessed last night, your head was still spinning. sharp teeth and slick tongue claiming your neck and chest as his hips fucked you roughly into the bed. it was hard to keep quiet with the way he was moving, but he loved it when you were loud. loved knowing the whole house could hear who you belong to.
which is why you don’t hesitate when you’re rolling out of bed to pluck up the black tshirt he had dropped over the chair in his room. it smelt sweet, familiar. you’re tugging it on without a second thought, oversized and soft, wrapping you up in his warmth. the smell of cologne was heavy and you knew he’d love that, heeseung loved when you smelt like him.
you’re heading to the kitchen with a wide grin, sleep-eyed, barefoot and still buzzing. everyone else is already spread around downstairs, having been up much longer than you. some are eating, playing video games or just lounging. jake is the first to glance up at you. then he freezes, a light dust pink raising on his cheeks.
“wait… is that mine?” your brows furrow, big eyes blinking in confusion. “what?” you’re nearly turning your body around to see what he could be referring to as jay is glanced up, immediately snorting at the sight of you. “oh my god. that is jake’s shirt!” he laughs.
your eyes drop down to the faded concert tee and you’re immediately recognizing it as one of jake’s favorites. fuck. before you can even react, laugh off the incident and go change; heeseung is stepping out behind you, fist rubbing into his eye. his gaze slowly travels from your body, down to your shirt and then over to jake. he scowls. an uncomfortable silence filling the room.
the sound of sunoo laugh cuts through the tension, his head falling back as he chuckles. “wow! tough break, bro.” he jokes, forcing heeseung to turn his scowl in his direction. despite the annoyance in his features, ripples of laughter start to fill the room. “dude.” jungwon gasps through his cackling, “after all that work last night? she did you dirty…” now your cheeks are heating up for a different reason, realizing that they had heard the two of you last night.
“i always knew you had good taste, yn. of course you’d grab something of mine, it’s only a matter of time…” he trails off with a grin, shooting an obnoxious wink in your direction. he’s joking, it’s so obvious that he’s joking which is why you don’t pay his words any attention. eyes rolling as you left out a soft laugh. the situation was kind of funny, you couldn’t lie.
heeseung doesn’t agree in the slightest but. jaw set and eyes narrowed, you would think he was the one being laughed at. he walks past you without a word, eyes focused on the fridge as he pulls out a bottle of water. it’s then that the other guys notice he doesn’t find this situation as amusing as the rest of you do, silence settles just as he speaks. “go take it off,” his voice low and unnerving, your back straightens as if you were being scolded.
you don’t argue, he was clearly upset and you honestly couldn’t blame him. it was a mistake, yes, but seeing you after the night you shared in another guys clothes… and then him laughing about it? did seem a little unfair. so you’re nodding quickly, turning back into his room to find something of his to change into. you’ll be sure to double this time.
heeseung is rolling his eyes, attention falling back onto jake who is trying to shrink into his bowl of noodles. “keep your shit out of my room,” his voice is a scary kind of calm, all jake can do is nod.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ JAY ♡
jay woke up long before you. showered, did his hair, and made iced coffees for the both of you. he leaned back in his chair, scrolling mindlessly through his phone as he waited for you to wake up; the other guys filtering one by one with loud chatter as they prepared breakfast.
it’s not until he begins to worry that your coffee might melt do you finally emerge from his bedroom. he hears the way the door slams and the cure patter of your feet, his heart instantly starts to pound. it’s crazy that his body still got nervous when he knew you were coming close, he’d think it would be different after the months of being together.
the two of you spent so much time together, loving on each other, cuddling, kissing, fucking… that he felt like he’d be calm by now. that thought his shot to tell as you’re entering the kitchen. your hair cascading down shoulders in messy curls, smooth brown skin littered with the hickeys he’s left. just above your collarbones. you look freshly fucked, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of scrunched up white socks.
it’s before you’re able to fully greet everyone, jay notices the details of the oversized shirt that you’re wearing. the fact that the other guys in the room had gone silent too, already putting the pieces together. his eyes squint. nose wrinkling at the clear initials right above you left breast ‘psh’ a little embroidered figure skater logo right above that.
jungwon sucks at his teeth, head tilting as he turns to focus on his meal again. you’re in your own world, basically floating over to your man. slender arms wrapping around his neck from behind before you’re leaning down to place a wet kiss to his cheek. he doesn’t move, doesn’t return your embrace. just sits there staring at the spot you had originally been standing.
“is that my shirt, yn?” sunghoon speaks from around the granola bar he had been chewing, eyes focusing on the all too familiar designs on the back. your blood runs cold, eyes go wide as your head drops to the details of the shirt. there’s some space between you and jay now, enough room for him turn around and look at you. and he does not look happy.
“seriously?” he says it like you had plan to come down wearing another man’s clothing, like you were all in on some sick prank against him.
you’re quick to defend. “wait, jay. i thought this was yours, i swear. oh my god-“ the way he suddenly stands put a stop to your rambling, his gaze never leaving the shirt now that he’s towering over you.
“don’t blame her, it’s comfortable.” sunghoon is coming to your defense before jay is even able to speak and that doesn’t help the situation in the slightest bit. jay ignores him, clearly annoyed but not trying to lose it completely on you in front of everyone else.
he keeps his cool as he speaks. “there’s no way, you’re going to be walking around wearing some other guys clothes.” it’s safe to say his nerves were gone, “not after i fucked you like that. i had you shaking and crying for me. me.” he’s standing much closer now, reaching down to tug the hem of the shirt upwards a bit - nearly exposing your ass to the entire kitchen.
“jay,” you beg, a pout forming on your hips and a throb swelling between your legs. you always found him hot when was serious. “i just grabbed it. i didn’t realize-“ he threatens to pull the shirt higher, spending you with the squint of his eyes. “take it off.” his words come out slowly, one at a time and you feel your stomach flip.
he’s being so hot and demanding, you’re moving to pull the shirt over your head — only be stopped by the sound of sunoo’s scream from the couch. “we’re still in here!” jay doesn’t flinch, dark eyes still focused on you, waiting. daring. and you now have the attention of the entire kitchen as well, waiting to see what your next move is.
your heart pounds in your chest as you reach down to curl your fingers into the hem of your shirt. hot stares from the entire kitchen burning holes into your back and chest. jay stares at you, heavy and unblinking, daring you to disobey. “go on,” he says, voice so sharp it feels like it slides into your skin. “show them who you belong to,”
your breath hitches, the sound filling the otherwise silent kitchen. you can hear the scrape of sunghoon’s spoon against his cereal bowl, the soft rustle of jungwon shifting in his chair. sunoo groans dramatically from the couch, but the pulse between your legs forces you not to care.
your grip tightens around the shirt, slowly starting to pull it over your head, keeping a cautious eye on jay whose smirk just seems to grow. he’s dropping you with a hand around your wrist, fingers warm and soft, but his grip is firm. he’s easily pulling you into his chest, leaning down so his lips brush against your ear. “not here.” he murmurs, just for you to hear. “i want them wondering what im about to do to you.”
the smirk that sits on his face has your pussy throbbing, he’s proud. you can tell just by looking at him, to know that you were willing to undress in front of him and all of his friends just because he told you to. slowly, he’s dropping your shirt from his grip - allowing it to fall down and cover your ass again. you stand there flushed and breathless, skin prickled with goosebumps from exposure.
jay doesn’t say much else, dark eyes gesturing toward the stairs and that’s all he needs to do for you to get the hint. you’re quick to turn, basically taking the stairs two at a time, eager to get this shirt off of you now. sunghoon clicks his tongue, breaking the silence. “possessive much?” he says with a playful snort.
jay doesn’t even glance at him, “what’s mine is mine,” he says with a shrug, heading in the direction you just disappeared in, where you lay on the bed spread out and waiting for him.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ JAKE ♡
you’re nearly skipping out of jake’s room, a big dopey smile on your face as your hair bounces with each step you take. you can still feel the sting of his teeth nipping at your neck, the weight of his cock between your legs and the sounds he’d make just before he was falling apart. you loved seeing him the way he was last night, so needy and desperate. it’s like he could never get enough of you.
you didn’t even think twice before you were plucking one of his oversized shirts from the top of the laundry pile. it’s much bigger than you expect, falling about mid thigh. it smelt heavily of cologne; one that you didn’t recognize as his but you don’t dwell on the small fact. instead, you’re letting the growl or your stomach guide your movements, basically floating into the kitchen.
the living room is already buzzing, heeseung sprawled out on the couch, jungwon scrolling lazily through his phone, and riki stretched out across the arm chair; tossing a ball up and catching it. they’re all speaking over each other barely listening but somehow managing to have a conversation. their eyes follow you as you enter the room, which you half expected. they probably heard you throughout the night.
“baby,” your tone is soft as you head over to jake who stands in the kitchen, sunghoon leaning against the counter next to him. he’s distracted when you plant a kiss to his lips, not melting in it like he usually does. his lips are tense and body is stiff, eyes open the entire time. it’s not until sunghoon is piping up do you understand why, an annoying smirk on his lips. “uh… that’s not jake’s shirt?” he says as if you had known this and was trying to be funny.
you’re blinking, eyes staring down at the he details of the shirt. it’s just black. maybe a little too big to fit your boyfriend, but who didn’t like the oversized baggy look? you take in the strategic holes that the designer added in order to make the garment look unique and it’s oddly similar to a style you’ve seen before. your stomach drops. oh no.
“it’s mine,” riki says from his spot on the chair, only half looking up - but the smug tone of his voice is loud and clear. he sits up lazily, allowing his eyes to drag over the curves of your body hidden by his large tee. “looks better on her, though.” he says with a smirk.
jake’s gaze snaps up from where you stand over to where riki lounges on the couch. “what?” you can already sense the tension in his tone, so you’re immediately putting your hands up in defense. “i didn’t know! i just grabbed it,” you defend, but jake’s staring at your with his brows furrowed as if your words only confuse him further.
it doesn’t help that the smirk on riki’s face is growing, “she can keep it, hyung. it’s cute seeing her in my clothes. kinda like i’ve claimed her,” he teases. heeseung reaches to punch at his side. “riki.” he warns, voice sharp but riki doesn’t budge. he gives jake a lazy once-over, tongue gliding across his lower lip before his gaze shifts to you. he’s thinking, stare lingering just long enough to make your cheeks heat. “maybe i’ll take it back, after she’s worn it long enough it smells like her,” he grins.
you’re scoffing, face wrinkling in disgust. “you’re so gross,” jake is quick to turn toward you, peeling the shirt off and over your head without much of a thought and shoving it in riki’s direction. you’re just thankful you decided to put underwear on before coming downstairs. “go grab something of mine,” his voice is stern, forcing a pout to take over your features. “it was an accident,” you try.
“yeah but look at his face,” he says with a roll of his eyes. riki has turned his attention back onto his phone, shirt piled up in his lap and a large smirk resting on his lips. he’s never gonna let this go, you can already tell. with huff you’re stomping back up the stairs and back into jake’s room to search through his drawers.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ SUNGHOON ♡
you’re waking up later than everyone else on sunday, the excitement from saturday weighing your body down and making your movements slower than normal. the entire day before had been spent with your boyfriend and his friends, starting at the beach and ending cuddle up on the couch half paying attention to a movie.
that lasts about three hours before sunghoon is yawning dramatically, announcing that you’re both exhausted for the day and need to head upstairs. where you do everything but sleep. but now, it’s sunday morning and everyone is wide awake. hair messy, buzzing around the kitchen as break and coffee is made. you’re walking out of sunghoon’s room with a slight yawn, fist rubbing into your eyes as you make your way down the stairs, an oversized hoodie stalking your frame. it smells sweet, like cherries.
the moment you’re entering the kitchen, heeseung turns from where he’s crouched in front of the fridge - a grin spreading across his features. big. smug. dangerous. he had originally looked because he heard you coming in, but after seeing you and what you’ve decided to adorn your body with, he’s got ulterior motives.
“damn, how do you expect me to act when you look like that in my hoodie?” he’s half joking, teasing just to see the way your body freezes. he’s overly satisfied by the way your eyes widen. sunghoon’s head snaps up, fork dropping down onto his plate. they’re all staring at you, genuinely confused and inspecting the sweater that you’ve decided to pull on.
your heart pounds as you look down, fuck. the sweater is just black, like any other non special hoodie - what you hadn’t noticed was the grey logo on the front. it was huge so you don’t know how you missed it. you blink, already sensing the look of disapproval from your boyfriend. “wait, hoon. i thought it was yours. i didn’t look—“
heeseung interrupts your babbling, standing from his spot and leaning against the counter in front of you, the tip of his tongue looking at his cheek. “don’t stress, yn. you can borrow it, i like how it fits you.” he flirts, wanting to get a raise out of sunghoon more than anything.
you’re ignoring him, taking quick steps over to sunghoon who has already pushed his plate out of the way, jay tightening. “baby, i didn’t know. i—“ sunghoon’s eyes are still narrowed in heeseung’s direction, not paying you any attention. “why is it even in my room?” he snaps, standing up. “you’re just leaving your clothes everywhere now?”
heeseung shrugs, not seeming to care at all that his friend was clearly annoyed. “she didn’t have to grab it. maybe she likes how i smell, am i right yn?” he says through a laugh, gaze dropping down onto you again. you don’t say anything, mainly because you don’t have the chance before sunghoon is cutting in again. “what’s so funny?” heeseung smirks.
“you’re so easy to mess with when it comes to her,” he laughs, turning to look through the fridge again. “it was clearly an accident, it doesn’t mean anything.” obviously it didn’t mean anything, you moved sunghoon and just because you grabbed the wrong shirt wasn’t going to change that. he knew that.
but it still bothered him seeing you in another man’s clothes and he was terrible at hiding it. “plus, she looks cute.” heeseung adds with a wink in your direction, earning an annoyed grunt from sunghoon as he starts in his direction. you’re quick to step between them, pushing your man back with two light hands to his chest.
“i’ll change! i’ll change!” you’re rushing out, sunghoon doesn’t tear his gaze from heeseung but his words are directed to you. simple and unamused. “do that.” you disappear down the hall with quick movements, ignoring the not at all awkward stares as you leave the room. just as you’re reaching the top of the stairs, you hear heeseung’s voice again. tone ever so taunting “relax man, she’s yours… for now.”
it’s quiet for all of two seconds before you hear the scrape of a chair against the wood floor, scuffling of feet and shouts from the other boys. they’re fighting, great.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ SUNOO ♡
you’re halfway through rummaging in the fridge, wet hair creating a puddle around your carefully pedicured feet. body warm and refreshed from your shower and now you just needed something to satiate your sugar craving. sunoo’s sharp inhale from the doorway stills your movements. “baby…” his tone drags, suspicious and slightly wearily. you’re glancing over your shoulder at him, eyebrow lifted in half interest. “what’s up?” you him, pulling out the carton or strawberries before turning around fully.
jungwon is just steps behind him in a loud conversation with jay about god knows what. you’re not focused on them, you’re more focused on the way sunoo’s gaze drags down your figure, landing squarely on the hem of your shirt. “that’s not mine…” you’re glancing down confused, barely able to take in the details of the shirt before jungwon is turning his attention to you. “is that my shirt?” he says with a laugh, brows scrunched in the middle.
jay’s snorting out a laugh, forcing one to fall from your lips as well. “oh my god, i just tagged it from the laundry pile. sorry, baby. i thought—“ sunoo isn’t laughing, doesn’t look the slightest bit amused as he makes his way further into the kitchen toward you. “i don’t see what’s funny,” he says. your laughs stammer to a stop as well as the boys around you. “it’s just a shirt?”
“it’s not just a shirt,” sunoo says with an overly dramatic gasp, eyes rolling as he crosses his arms over his chest. “who do you belong to me or him?” he points between him and jungwon, who’s trying desperately to not be apart of this conversation. “obviously,” you start, but he doesn’t want to hear much else. hand lifting as he takes a step back for you to past him. “nope, go change. now.” he’s being serious, can tell by the lack of playfulness in his tone.
but you can’t help but tease him a bit. you’re arching a brow, hip popping out as your hand lands on it. “or what?” you challenge with a smirk. sunoo actually lets out a laugh, but it’s not his normal all consuming one. he’s calling your bluff.
his eyes narrow in your direction, lower lip trapped between his teeth as he makes his way over to you. “or what?” he repeats, just in case you want to back track. your stomach flutters at how low his voice is, but you don’t budge. his head tilts, as if he’s pretending to think for a second before he’s leaning down, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “or i’ll take you back to our room to thoroughly remind you, who you belong to.” your lips part, a mixture of a laugh and a gasp caught in your throat.
jays clearing his throat, a desperate attempt to remind him that you two aren’t the only ones in the room, while jungwon focuses very hard on his phone. heat darkens your cheeks and you don’t even have the chance to response before sunoo is speaking up again. “now,” his chin flicks toward the hallway, a playful bite to his tone, “go change before i give them a real reason to stare.”
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ JUNGWON ♡
your feet drag as you make your way into the kitchen, hair pulled back in two wet braids from your shower and a large shirt you found on jungwon’s dresser hanging over your bare legs. it’s pretty late in the morning, so the guys are already halfway through breakfast; arguing loudly about something dumb. jake is the first to notice you. “oh, no way,” he says with a large smirk from behind his mug.
heeseung looks over, jake’s words peaking his interest and a grin slowly grows across his features as well. “cute shirt, yn.” he says with a laugh. you’re quickly glancing down at it, smiling sweetly at the both of them. it was a cute shirt. you speak as you make your way to ready plate on the counter, assuming your boyfriend had left it out for you. “thanks, i—“
jay is interrupting before your even able to finish your sentence, voice loud enough for everyone in the room and the next one to here. “that’s my shirt.” you freeze, brows furrowing as you tug on the hem of the shirt - thoroughly inspecting it. “no it’s not. i grabbed it from jungwon’s room.” you say with a tilt of your head.
you now have the attention of all of the guys in the room, each one of them staring at you like they knew something you didn’t. riki has a hand over his mouth as if he’s watching a car crash, and sunghoon is muttering out, “oh he’s gonna lose it…” which you don’t think is even half true, if this wasn’t his shirt then it was a mistake.
jays leaning back in his chair, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks you up and down. “nah, princess. i know my clothes, i wore that last week. looks good on you, though.” he says with a smirk. you’re rolling your eyes, plopping down on the empty chair at the table. “gross.” you fake gag, you’re about to further defend the fact that you know this is your man’s shirt when a silence falls over the room. the teasing coming to an abrupt halt and everyone pulling their attention from you.
you’re looking up confused, not realizing that jungwon was making his way in. he’s sleepy eyed, hoodie half zipped, eyes scanning around the room. the corners of his lips lift when his face lands on you, until it drops to the shirt that swallows your frame. his jaw ticks once. jay is the only one still watching the two of you, practically vibrating in his seat. “morning, wonie. do you like yns shirt?” he says with a wide grin.
the air in the room goes stale, the other guys shifting uncomfortable waiting for jungwon’s next move. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look away from you as he crossed the room and stepping straight into your space. “morning, baby.” he says, low and serious. and before you can even response, his hand is gripping your jaw; easily tilting your head up toward his. his mouth crashes into yours— hot, sloppy, tongue pressing past your lips in a kiss that has the entire room silent. the only sound being heard is the wet suction from your mouths. he’s letting out a low groan, free hand dropping to grip at your waist. possessive and deliberate.
when he finally pulls back, you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself. lips swollen and cheeks flushed, you can barely remember where you were and what you had been talking about before he came down. he keeps his gaze locked on yours. “go change,” he says simply, taking a step back so you’re able to stand up.
you’re still breathless and feeling like you should explain yourself. “babe, i didn’t—“ he’s shaking his head, hand lifting between the two of you. “go. change.” his voice is calm, but there’s a finality in his tone that has you raising to your feet. “i’m going, i’m going.” your still dazed, cheeks hot and about ready to agree to whatever he’ll say at this point. you practically float toward the stairs; shirt already bunched up at your waist as you make your way toward his room.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ RIKI ♡
you had just got out of the pool, spending a few minutes laying in the sun before you were deciding to grab something to eat. you’re grabbing the first piece of clothing you see, a large black hoodie that could belong to no one but your boyfriend. you’re zipping it up to the neck before heading into the house. the sound of your wet steps into the house goes unnoticed with the loud chatter coming from the living room. aside from riki, his head jerks up from his phone, the cutest smile on his face when he sees you standing in the door way.
that’s until his gaze is dropping down, eyes dropping slightly as the grin slowly disappears from his face. “that’s not mine,” he says loud enough to cut through the noise. your face scrunches in confusion, bringing the sleeves up to your face to inspect. “what?” sunoos voice chimes in from across the room, had spotted you grabbing his sweater before you had even entered the house. “it’s mine!” he calls out, a giggle behind his words as if he had been anticipating riki’s reaction.
his quickly comes to a stop as riki pushes himself up to full height, towering over you with his arms crossed over his chest. “take it off,” jake takes one look at the younger boys scowl, pushing out a laugh to try to lighten the mood. “relax, man. it’s just a sweater.” riki ignores his words, eyes boring into yours. “i said take it off,” he repeats, tone firm and serious— but you can’t bring yourself to move. you’ve never seen him annoyed like this before, indifferent yes. but never annoyed. especially not at you.
he’s letting out a huff, unhappy with how long it’s taking you to move. his hands reach for the collar of his shirt, swiftly tugging it over his head and holding it out to you. “put mine on instead,” your eyes instantly drop to the ripples of his stomach, smooth skin taunt around the muscles that seem to flex even when he’s just standing there. his chains lay perfectly against his clavicle, dangling between his pecks. you can barely focus, let alone follow whatever he’s telling you.
so you hesitate— mistake. he’s stepping closer to you, easily closing the space that had separated you before. long fingers wrap around the cool zipper of the hoodie and he doesn’t think twice before he’s tugging it down, revealing your dark blue two piece to his greedy eyes. “should i do it for you, baby? make you strip right here?” he murmurs, talking low enough that it’s clear the words were only meant for you. but the room is so quiet it’s easy to make out what’s being said.
“dude.” sunghoon groans, eyes rolling as he debates whether or not to turn his attention back to his show. jay shifts uncomfortably in his chair, typing away at his phone while heeseung watches, two fists propped under his chin. everyone’s watching you, even if they were pretending they weren’t. but riki doesn’t give a damn. he’s reaching up to knock the shoulders of the sweater from your skin, tugging it down until it’s pooling at your feet.
“riki—“ you protest, ready to tell him it’s not that big of a deal. that it was an accident and it didn’t mean anything if you borrowed someone else’s hoodie. he’s shushing you before any of that can be said, though. easily pulling his shirt over your head and helping your arms into the sleeves. it falls comfortably at your thighs and he’s taking a step back to admire how cute you look wrapped up in his clothes.
without a word, his hand reaches down to catch your jaw, carefully tilting your face up before leaning down to press his mouth on yours. the kiss is anything but soft, he’s rough with the way his mouth pushes against yours. his tonngue slides against yours, grip tight on your waist to keep your body tight against him. exactly where he wants you. it’s so clear he’s making a show of claiming you, not pulling away until you’re gasping.
the sound of it it is so obscene in the quiet room, earning a dramatic cough from jungwon just as sunoo is muttering, “jesus.” riki’s slow with pulling back away from you, a pretty smirk on his lips as his gaze drops to where the shirt hangs on you. “much better,” he grins, placing one final kiss on your lips before he’s sinking back down into his chair. “now come sit with me, i wanted to show you this video.” he pats his lap, smiling as if he didn’t just force you into this dazed state. the guys are somewhere between shocked and exasperated, you can hardly breathe and riki is just sat there as if nothing had happened.
pairing:f!reader x Park Sunghoon (ENHYPEN)
genre: sports romance, figure skating au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, explicit sexual content
word count: 8.5k
warnings: explicit sexual content (including dominance/submission, bondage with skate laces, ice play, edging/orgasm denial, dacryphilia, mirror sex, rough sex, squirting, creampie, plugging), intense emotional moments, themes of pressure and rivalry in competitive sports, mild possessiveness, tears during sex
You remember the exact day it all started like it was burned into your skin.
It was the middle of last year's off-season, and you'd just transferred to the top training center in Seoul after your coach decided your singles career had hit a wall. You were good—damn good—with triple-triple combinations that landed clean every time, spins that scored level four without breaking a sweat, but the judges never failed to scribble the same note on every protocol: "Lacking artistic expression. Needs more fire. More emotional connection."
Your coach pulled you aside one morning and said, "We're moving you to pairs. It's the only way you're going to learn how to feel something on the ice." You argued at first—pairs meant trusting someone else with your body, your jumps, your safety—but you didn't have a choice. Not if you wanted to compete at the senior level, not if you wanted medals that actually mattered.
That's when they introduced you to Park Sunghoon.
He was already on the ice when you arrived at the rink that first morning, gliding through smooth, precise figure eights in the center. His blades carved clean lines into the surface, the sound soft and rhythmic. He wore simple black practice pants and a fitted black thermal top that outlined his tall, athletic frame—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, moving with each turn, giving him that effortlessly striking look he was known for.
He didn't stop skating when you stepped onto the barrier. Didn't acknowledge you right away. Only after a few more laps did he slow and glide over, coming to a precise stop in front of you. You had to look up to meet his eyes—dark, sharp, and completely unreadable. He took a moment to study you quietly, his gaze steady and assessing.
"You're smaller than I expected," he said at last, his voice low and even, carrying that calm, controlled tone you'd heard in interviews.
It wasn't warm or cold—just an observation. Then, without another word, he pushed off and returned to the center of the ice, clearly expecting you to follow. And you did.
The first trial lift set the tone for everything to come. His hands found your waist and thighs with confident precision, lifting you overhead in a simple press as if it required no effort at all. You felt the steady power in his hold, the way he kept perfect balance beneath you. When he lowered you back down, your bodies brushed briefly before your blades touched the ice again.
The coaches watching from the sidelines were immediately excited. "The contrast is perfect," they said, clapping their hands. "Your lines against his strength—this pairing has real potential."
Sunghoon didn't smile or celebrate. He just nodded once, his expression thoughtful, almost calculating. As if he'd already mapped out exactly how this partnership would work.
From that very first day, without ever spelling it out, he established the dynamic.
You were his partner now.
His to guide.
His to push.
His to shape into the skater—and maybe more—that he knew you could become.
As you left the ice that afternoon, still feeling the echo of his hands on your body, you sensed the first flicker of something intense building between you.
Something beyond the routines and elements.
The days blur into weeks, and every morning you step into the rink feeling a mix of dread and anticipation that knots tight in your stomach.
Sunghoon is always there first, already warmed up, carving perfect edges into the ice like he owns the entire surface. He doesn’t wave or smile when you walk in—just a quick glance that lingers a fraction longer than necessary before he continues his laps. You lace up quickly, heart pounding a little faster than it should, and join him on the ice. No good mornings. No easy chatter. Just the sharp scrape of blades and the quiet understanding that practice has begun the second your skates touch the rink.
The schedule is punishing. Six to eight hours a day, sometimes more. You start with basic stroking and pair holds—his hands finding your waist with practiced accuracy, pulling you close so your bodies move as one. His palms are warm through the thin fabric of your practice top, fingers splaying wide across your ribs as he corrects your posture. “Back straighter,” he says quietly, breath brushing the shell of your ear. You obey instantly, arching just enough that your chest grazes his, and you feel the subtle shift in his grip—tighter, more possessive, like he’s testing how much control you’ll surrender without being told.
The lifts come next, and they never get easier.
He starts with the simpler ones: a press lift where he grips one hand firmly on your upper thigh, the other at your hip, and raises you high above his head. You’re weightless for those few seconds, completely at his mercy, trusting the strength in his arms and the perfect balance of his stance. When he lowers you, it’s slow and controlled—your body sliding down the front of his until your blades touch the ice again. Your chest brushes his torso, your hips align for a heartbeat too long, and you feel the heat radiating off him despite the freezing air. His hand on your thigh lingers every time, thumb sweeping once across the inner seam of your tights before he steps back like nothing happened.
You tell yourself it’s just the nature of pairs skating. Contact is inevitable. Intimacy is required for the elements to look effortless.
But you know it’s more than that.
You catch him watching you when you think he isn’t looking. During warm-up stretches on the boards—when you bend forward, reaching for your toes, back arched and legs straight—his eyes darken, fixed on the line of your body. When you do off-ice conditioning later in the gym—core work that leaves you trembling, sweat tracing paths down your neck and between your breasts—he stands nearby with arms crossed, gaze steady and unreadable. “Again,” he says calmly as you hold a plank until your arms shake. “Don’t drop until I say.” And you don’t. You hold it until tears prick at the corners of your eyes, until every muscle screams, because the weight of his attention feels heavier than any physical strain.
There are moments that feel deliberate, even if he never admits it.
During pair spins, his hand is supposed to stay at your waist, but it drifts lower—fingers curling possessively over the curve of your hip, pulling you tighter into the blur of motion. When he catches you after a throw jump, he doesn’t just steady you—he yanks you in hard, your body colliding with his chest, your face tucked briefly against his neck before he releases you.
You feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your own, the way his breathing hitches for just a second, and you wonder if he feels yours racing too.
He never comments on it. Never acknowledges the tension that thickens the air between you with every practice. But you see it in the way his jaw tightens when you bite your lip in concentration. In the slight narrowing of his eyes when you laugh at something a coach says. In the way he adjusts your positioning over and over—hands sliding along your arms, your waist, your thighs—until every inch of you is hyper-aware of exactly where he is at all times.
By the end of each session, you’re exhausted—muscles burning, lungs raw from the cold air, skin flushed and sensitive. You strip off your gloves and hat in the locker room, replaying every touch, every glance, every quiet command. Your body aches in ways that have nothing to do with skating. You go home, shower, and lie awake thinking about the way his hands felt on you, the low timbre of his voice when he corrects you, the unspoken promise in his eyes that this is only the beginning.
You know he’s holding back.
And every day, you want him to stop.
It happens about three months into your partnership, during a week-long intensive training camp at a remote facility outside Seoul. The rink is smaller than you're used to, the air thicker with humidity from recent resurfacing, and the schedule is relentless—no days off, no distractions, just ice time from dawn until the lights dim late at night.
Your free skate program that season is sensual by design. The choreographer wanted passion, longing, the kind of emotion the judges always say you're missing. The music is slow and heavy with strings, full of dramatic pauses and intimate moments. There are long, lingering lifts where your body drapes over Sunghoon's shoulder, spreads where your legs open wide around his hips as he carries you across the ice, and a death spiral that pulls you so low your hair sweeps the surface while his grip on your hand and thigh never wavers.
You've been running the program over and over, refining every detail. Sunghoon is meticulous—stopping every time something feels even slightly off, making you repeat sections until your legs burn and your lungs ache. He's been quieter than usual all week, his focus razor-sharp, his touches during elements firmer, more deliberate. You tell yourself it's just the pressure of camp, the upcoming competitions looming.
But on this particular afternoon, something shifts.
You're midway through a full run-through. The music swells into the big lift sequence—the one where he grips your upper thighs from behind, hoists you high, and then flips you forward so you're facing him, legs wrapped around his waist for a slow rotational carry. It's meant to look effortless, romantic, charged with tension.
This time, you lean into it more than you should.
As he lifts you, you arch your back harder, letting your body press fully against his. Your chest molds to his torso, your hips roll subtly against him as you settle into the hold. You feel it immediately—the way he stiffens beneath you, not from strain but from something else. A low, almost imperceptible hitch in his breath against your ear. The sudden tension in his arms as he completes the rotation, lowering you slowly, deliberately, your body sliding down his until your blades touch the ice.
You land perfectly, but he doesn't let go right away. His hands stay on your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to hold you there for an extra beat. When the music moves into the next element, he releases you abruptly and skates ahead, jaw tight, eyes fixed forward.
The rest of the run-through is flawless on the surface, but the air between you crackles. You feel his gaze on you during every transition, every hold. By the time the final pose hits—your body bent backward over his arm, his face inches from yours—the silence after the music ends feels deafening.
The coaches clap and call it a day, praising the improvement in "emotional connection." Everyone starts packing up, heading to dinner. You linger by the boards, unlacing your skates slowly, heart pounding for reasons you can't quite name.
Sunghoon doesn't leave with the others.
He skates slow laps at first, cooling down, but you feel his attention on you the entire time. When the last coach waves goodbye and the doors close behind them, the rink falls quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigeration and the scrape of his blades.
Finally, he stops. Skates over to where you're sitting on the barrier, still in your practice dress—black this time, sleeveless, with a low back that exposes your spine. He doesn't sit. Just stands in front of you, tall and imposing, arms loose at his sides.
"You did that on purpose."
His voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge beneath it you've never heard before.
You look up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral even as your pulse races. "Did what?"
He steps closer, close enough that you have to part your knees slightly to make room for him between your legs. One hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek before settling under your chin, tilting your face up to hold your gaze.
"That lift. The way you moved against me. You've been doing little things like that for weeks—pressing closer than you need to, holding eye contact longer, breathing harder when my hands are on you."
His thumb traces your lower lip, light but deliberate. Your breath catches.
"I thought I could ignore it," he continues, voice dropping even lower. "Focus on the skating. But you're making it hard. Very hard."
The double meaning hangs heavy between you. Heat floods your cheeks, your body, but you don't pull away.
"I didn't mean—" you start, but he cuts you off with a slight shake of his head.
"Don't lie. Not about this."
His eyes search yours, dark and intense, like he's looking for something specific. Permission, maybe. Or confirmation.
You swallow hard. "What if I was?"
The corner of his mouth lifts—just barely. Not quite a smile, but close.
"Then you should know the consequences."
He leans in, close enough that his next words brush warm against your lips.
"Every time you distract me like that, I lose focus. And I don't like losing focus."
His hand slides from your chin to the side of your neck, thumb resting lightly over your pulse point. It jumps under his touch.
"So from now on," he murmurs, "every distraction has a price. You'll pay for it. On the ice. Off hielo. However I decide."
Your breath is shallow, body thrumming with anticipation and nerves and something hotter, deeper.
"Do you understand?"
You nod, barely.
"Say it."
"I understand."
His eyes darken further. He holds your gaze for a long moment, then steps back abruptly, the space between you suddenly cold.
"Good."
He turns and skates away, leaving you sitting there breathless, thighs pressed together, heart hammering against your ribs.
That night, lying awake in your small camp dorm room, you replay every second of it—the feel of his thumb on your lip, the weight of his words, the promise in his voice.
You know things have changed permanently.
And for the first time all season, you can't wait for tomorrow's practice.
The rest of the season turns into a slow, exquisite torture that you both pretend isn't happening.
After that night at training camp, Sunghoon doesn't bring up the "consequences" again—not directly. He doesn't need to. The promise hangs in the air every single day, woven into every touch, every glance, every correction he gives you on the ice. What started as subtle tension evolves into something deliberate, controlled, and entirely his.
Punishments begin small and disguised as training.
You miss a timing cue during a twist lift? He makes you repeat it twenty times until your core is screaming and your thighs tremble so badly you can barely stand. "Again," he says calmly each time you land, his hands steadying your waist longer than necessary, thumbs pressing into the dips above your hips. When you're finally shaking and breathless, he leans in close under the guise of checking your form. "Better. But you know why we're doing this, don't you?" His voice is so low only you can hear. You nod, cheeks burning, and he releases you with the faintest curve of his lips.
You wear a new practice dress one day—shorter than usual, with a slightly lower neckline because the choreographer said it would photograph better for promotions. Sunghoon's eyes flick over you the moment you step onto the ice. He doesn't say a word about it during the entire session, but every lift feels different. His grip on your thighs is tighter, fingers splayed wider, pulling you harder against his body on every entry and exit. By the end of practice, the insides of your thighs are marked with faint red imprints from his hands, and you're so wound up you have to sit in the locker room for ten minutes just to calm your breathing.
Travel becomes its own kind of hell.
Because of scheduling and "team bonding," you end up sharing hotel rooms on the competition circuit more often than not. Sunghoon is always professional on the surface—polite, quiet, giving you first pick of the bed closest to the window. But then he changes in front of you without hesitation: peeling off his shirt slowly, revealing the sharp lines of his back and shoulders, the way his muscles shift as he reaches for a clean t-shirt. He stretches in the small space between the beds, arms overhead, abs flexing, knowing exactly where your eyes are. You pretend to scroll on your phone, but your reflection in the dark screen gives you away.
Some nights, he walks out of the bathroom in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, towel-drying his hair, water droplets still clinging to his collarbones. He catches you staring once and doesn't look away. Just holds your gaze in the mirror until you break first, face hot, thighs pressing together under the covers.
"Problem?" he asks softly, voice laced with amusement.
You shake your head, unable to speak.
He never touches you beyond what's required for skating. Never crosses that final line. But he finds a thousand ways to remind you who's in control.
During warm-ups at competitions, when the rink is crowded and chaotic, he'll skate up behind you and adjust your ponytail—fingers brushing the nape of your neck, lingering just long enough to make you shiver. In interviews, when reporters ask about your chemistry, he'll stand just a fraction too close, his hand resting lightly on your (perfectly appropriate) at the small of your back, but you feel the heat of his palm like a brand.
And the whispers—God, the whispers.
After a particularly strong performance where the crowd goes wild for your emotional connection, he waits until you're both off the ice and away from cameras before leaning in.
"You felt that out there?" he murmurs against your ear as you remove your skate guards. "That's what happens when you stop fighting me."
Or after a mistake in competition that costs you a few points: in the kiss-and-cry, while waiting for scores, his hand finds yours under the jacket draped over your laps. He squeezes once—firm, possessive—then traces a slow circle on your palm with his thumb. "We'll fix that later," he says under his breath. "My way."
You start living for those moments. For the way his control makes your body hum with anticipation. You find yourself pushing boundaries on purpose—holding his gaze a second too long during programs, arching into lifts more dramatically, letting your hands linger on his chest when he catches you. Each time, you see the flicker in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. You know you're adding to some invisible tally he's keeping.
And you know he's going to collect.
By the time nationals approach—the final qualifier before the big international assignments—the tension between you is a living thing. Thick enough to taste. Heavy enough that coaches comment on how "intense" your partnership has become, how it's translating beautifully into your skating.
They have no idea.
You have no idea how much longer he can keep this up without snapping.
Or how much longer you can survive without begging him to.
Nationals are tomorrow. The qualifier that decides everything: who gets the international assignments, who gets the funding, who gets to dream about Worlds and beyond. The pressure has been building for weeks, layers of expectation pressing down on every practice, every run-through, every breath you take on the ice.
Today's session is meant to be light: one full run-through of the short program, one of the free skate, then some light elements and cool-down. No corrections. No stops. Just flow and confidence-building before competition day. The coaches are optimistic, saying your programs have never looked better, that the chemistry between you and Sunghoon is electric.
They have no idea how right they are.
You step onto the ice feeling the familiar knot of nerves in your stomach, but underneath it is something else: anticipation. All season you've been dancing around this edge, pushing just enough to feel his response, pulling back before it goes too far. Today, with the end of the season so close, with everything on the line, you decide not to pull back.
The short program goes perfectly. Clean throws, perfect timing, lifts that draw gasps from the few staff members watching. Sunghoon's focus is unbreakable on the surface: his expressions sharp and intense, his holds steady and commanding. But you feel the tension in his body every time your skin meets his. The way his fingers press a little harder into your waist during the pair spin. The way his eyes lock onto yours during the final pose and stay there long after the music ends.
The coaches applaud. Someone jokes that you're ready to win the whole thing. Sunghoon doesn't smile. He just nods once and skates to the center for the free skate.
This program is the dangerous one. The sensual one. Four minutes of slow builds and dramatic releases, of bodies pressed close and movements that blur the line between athletic and intimate.
You know every moment that could be weaponized.
Every lift where you could arch just a fraction more. Every transition where your hips could roll against his in a way that's impossible to ignore.
You use them all.
From the opening steps, you lean into the choreography harder than ever. In the first spread eagle lift, you let your back arch deeply, chest pressing fully against his as he carries you. During the transitional hold where your leg hooks high around his waist, you shift your weight deliberately, letting your body grind against his for one slow, deliberate second. You feel his reaction immediately: the sharp inhale against your neck, the way his grip tightens almost painfully on your thigh.
He doesn't falter. Not outwardly. The elements stay clean, the timing perfect. But you see the storm building in his eyes every time your gazes meet. You feel it in the increasing force behind each catch, each lift.
The breaking point comes during the big rotational lift near the end: the one where he holds you high above his head, one hand on your hip, the other gripping your upper thigh from behind, and spins slowly across the ice. As he enters the lift, you roll your hips back against his shoulder, pressing yourself firmly against the hard line of his body. You let out the softest breath: not quite a moan, but close enough. Close enough that only he can hear it over the swelling music.
His arms tremble. Not from your weight, but from something else. The spin slows for a fraction of a second before he corrects it, lowering you with perfect control. But when your blades touch the ice again, his hands don't release right away. They hold you there, fingers digging into your flesh, body pressed flush against yours from chest to thigh.
The music ends. The final pose holds: your body bent backward over his arm, one leg extended high, his face inches from your throat.
The coaches erupt in applause from the sidelines. "Beautiful! That's the one that'll win it!" someone shouts. "Take that energy into tomorrow!"
Sunghoon doesn't move. Doesn't acknowledge them. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and burning with something that makes your heart stutter.
"Enough," he says under his breath, so low only you can hear. The word is quiet, but it carries the weight of every moment he's been holding back all season.
The coaches call it a day. Perfect timing. Rest now. Ice baths. Early dinner. Everyone starts packing up, chatting excitedly about tomorrow. You linger by the boards, removing your gloves slowly, watching as the rink empties person by person.
Sunghoon doesn't help pack. Doesn't cool down properly. He skates slow laps around the perimeter, waiting.
The last coach waves goodbye. The door closes with a heavy thud.
The rink is empty.
Silent except for the low hum of the lights and the soft scrape of his blades as he stops in the center.
He looks at you.
Then he skates to the main entrance.
You hear the click of the lock engaging.
Echoing through the vast, empty space.
He turns back to face you, expression unreadable in the harsh overhead lights.
"All season," he says, voice carrying easily across the ice. Calm. Controlled. But laced with something dangerous.
"You've been pushing."
He starts skating toward you slowly.
"Testing."
Closer now.
"Teasing."
He stops just in front of the barrier where you're standing.
"Today's the last time."
His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.
"Get off the ice."
It's not a request.
He pulls you toward the door that leads to the locker rooms. Not roughly, but with absolute certainty. You follow without resisting, heart pounding so hard you can barely hear anything else.
The men's locker room door opens under his hand. He guides you inside, the heavy door swinging shut behind you both.
The click of that lock echoes too.
You're alone now.
Truly alone.
And whatever has been building all season is finally, finally about to break.
The door locks with a final, heavy click that echoes through the empty locker room. The air is colder in here than on the ice, sharp with the faint metallic tang of equipment and lingering traces of sweat from earlier practices. Rows of lockers line the walls, benches run down the center, and on one side, a long wall of mirrors reflects everything: the dim overhead lights, the scattered towels, and now you and Sunghoon standing in the middle of it all.
He doesn't speak at first. Just looks at you, his dark eyes unblinking, chest rising and falling steadily while yours races. Then he steps forward, closing the small distance between you, and the heat radiating from his body cuts through the chill.
"Take off your dress."
His voice is low, calm, but there's no mistaking the command in it. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem of your practice dress, pulling it up and over your head in one motion. You're left in just your tights, panties, and sports bra, goosebumps rising instantly across your exposed skin. He watches every second, gaze dragging slowly over your body like he's memorizing it.
"Everything."
You obey. Bra next, then tights and panties peeled down together, leaving you completely naked under the harsh lights. Your nipples harden immediately from the cold and from the way he's looking at you, like you're something he finally gets to unwrap after months of waiting.
Sunghoon steps closer, circling you slowly. His fingertips trail lightly over your shoulder, down your spine, making you shiver. When he's behind you, he presses his front to your back, letting you feel that he's already hard, thick length straining against his pants and pressing firmly against your ass.
"All season," he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin there, "You've been teasing this pretty little body at me. Grinding on me during lifts. Moaning softly when my hands are on your thighs. Making me lose focus."
His hands slide around your waist, one splaying possessively over your stomach, the other cupping your breast, thumb flicking your nipple until you gasp.
"Tonight, you don't get to tease anymore. Tonight, you take what I give you."
He releases you abruptly and walks to his gear bag on the bench. From it, he pulls out his skates, unlacing one long white skate lace with deliberate slowness. Your breath catches as he returns, taking both your wrists in one hand and raising them above your head.
The lace is cool and smooth as he binds your wrists tightly together, knotting it securely before looping the excess around a high locker handle. It stretches you up onto your toes, arms pulled high, body completely exposed and helpless. Your breasts thrust forward, back slightly arched, legs parted just enough to keep balance.
Sunghoon steps back to admire his work. His eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide.
"Look at you," he says softly, voice laced with approval and something filthier. "So fucking perfect like this. Tied up and waiting for me."
He moves to the injury cooler in the corner, the one always stocked with ice packs and loose cubes. Scoops a handful into a thin towel, letting a few cubes clink audibly as he wraps it loosely.
The first touch of ice against your nipple makes you cry out, sharp and sudden. The cold burns, shocking your heated skin as he circles it slowly, watching the peak harden impossibly further. He switches to the other nipple, pinching it lightly between frozen fingers until tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity.
Down your stomach next, tracing icy paths over your ribs, your navel, teasing the sensitive skin just above your pussy. Your thighs tremble as he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs wider with firm hands. He binds one ankle loosely to the bench leg with another lace, ensuring you stay open for him.
Then the ice trails lower.
Along your inner thighs first, slow dragging lines that make you sob from the freezing burn. Your skin feels alive, every nerve screaming. When he finally presses a single cube directly to your clit, you jerk hard against the bindings, a broken cry escaping your lips.
"Sunghoon, please, it's too cold,"
He holds it there mercilessly, rubbing in tight circles while you shake and sob, tears starting to spill down your cheeks.
"Shh," he soothes, voice deceptively gentle. "Take it for me. Such a good girl, crying so pretty already."
Another cube joins the first, sliding through your soaked folds, teasing your entrance without pushing inside. The contrast of freezing cold against your dripping heat is maddening. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching for friction, for warmth, for him.
"Please," you whimper, tears streaming freely now. "Please touch me. I need,"
He stands slowly, pressing his clothed body against your naked one, letting you feel how hard he is.
"You need what?" he asks, lips brushing yours. "Need me to warm this needy cunt up? After all the times you've made me hard on the ice, you think you deserve it yet?"
You nod frantically, sobbing harder.
He smiles, dark and slow.
"Not yet."
He drops the towel, letting the remaining cubes scatter across the floor, and replaces cold with heat: his mouth closing over your clit in one hot, wet suck that makes you scream from the sudden shift. His tongue is relentless, licking broad stripes through your folds, fucking into your entrance while two fingers plunge deep and curl hard.
You climb fast, higher than you thought possible after the ice, hips bucking desperately against his face. But right as your walls start fluttering, right as you're teetering on the edge, he pulls away completely.
You wail in frustration, tears flowing freely, body shaking with denial.
He does it again.
And again.
Fingers pumping fast and deep, thumb grinding your clit, then stopping just before you tip over.
Tongue fucking you until you're babbling, then withdrawing.
He even grabs a vibrator from his bag, small and powerful, pressing it directly to your clit on the lowest setting while he watches your face, edging you for what feels like forever.
Every time you get close, he stops. Every time, you cry harder, begging incoherently.
"Please Sunghoon, please let me cum, I'll be good, I'll do anything,"
"Look at you," he growls, biting your inner thigh hard enough to leave marks. "Such a needy little whore, crying for my cock. This pussy's been distracting me all season. You cum when I say, not before."
He edges you until you're a wreck: body trembling violently, face soaked with tears, voice hoarse from sobbing his name. Until every nerve is on fire and you're barely coherent, dangling from the laces, completely at his mercy.
Only then does he stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on your broken, desperate expression.
"Good girl," he praises softly, thumb brushing away a tear before licking it off his finger. "Now we can really start."
Sunghoon finally reaches up and unties the skate laces from the locker handle, your wrists still bound together but free now. Your arms drop heavily, tingling as blood rushes back, but before you can rub them, he spins you around roughly and pushes you forward toward the long wall of mirrors.
Your bound hands slap against the cool glass for balance, palms pressing flat as he kicks your legs wider apart. The reflection stares back at you: naked, trembling, tear-streaked face flushed and desperate, nipples red from the ice, thighs glistening with your own arousal and the melted water trailing down your skin. You look completely wrecked already, and he hasn't even fucked you yet.
"Look at yourself," he says, voice rough as he steps in close behind you, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head up so you're forced to meet your own eyes in the mirror. "This is what you've been begging for all season. This pretty, crying mess."
His other hand works quickly at his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. It's thick, hard, flushed dark with how long he's been holding back, precum already beading at the tip. You watch in the mirror as he strokes himself once, twice, eyes locked on your exposed pussy, swollen and dripping onto the floor between your feet.
"Please," you sob, pushing your hips back desperately. "Sunghoon, please fuck me. I can't take any more."
He lines up, the fat head of his cock nudging your entrance, sliding through your slick folds but not pushing in yet. He leans over you, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.
"Such a pretty little slut," he murmurs, voice dripping with dark praise. "Crying and begging so beautifully for my cock. You've earned this."
With one brutal thrust, he slams into you to the hilt.
You scream, the stretch burning as he fills you completely, bottoming out against your cervix in a way that makes stars explode behind your eyes. He's thick, longer than you've ever taken, and the angle has him dragging against every sensitive spot inside you on the first stroke.
He doesn't give you time to adjust. Just pulls back and thrusts in again, harder, deeper, setting a punishing rhythm that has your body jolting forward with every snap of his hips. The mirrors shake slightly from the force, your bound hands squeaking against the glass as you try to brace yourself.
"Watch," he growls, tightening his grip in your hair to force your head up again. "Watch me fuck this needy cunt. Watch how deep I go."
You can't look away. The reflection is obscene: his muscular body towering over yours, hips slamming into your ass, cock disappearing inside you over and over, glistening with your wetness every time he pulls out. You see the way your pussy clenches around him greedily, the way your thighs shake, the fresh tears spilling down your cheeks from the overwhelming intensity.
"So fucking tight," he groans, one hand sliding down to grip your throat from behind, fingers pressing just enough to make your head spin. "Taking me so well. Like this pussy was made for my cock."
You sob his name, walls fluttering around him as you get dangerously close again, the coil tightening fast after all the edging.
He feels it immediately and slows, grinding deep but not giving you the speed you need. "Not yet," he says, voice edged with control. "You cum when I say. Not before."
He fucks you like that for what feels like hours: brutal thrusts that make you see stars, then slow, grinding rolls of his hips that keep you teetering on the edge without falling. Every time you get close, he stops or changes pace, denying you again and again until you're crying harder, babbling pleas that don't even make sense.
"Please let me cum, please, I'll be good, I'll never distract you again, just please,"
He laughs low and dark, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks.
"Liar. You'll do it again tomorrow. And I'll punish you again."
His hand slips around to your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that finally, finally push you over.
"Cum," he commands, slamming in deep. "Cum on my cock like the desperate little whore you are."
You shatter.
The orgasm rips through you violently, harder than any you've ever had, your pussy clamping down on him as you squirt messily around his cock, soaking his thighs and the floor beneath you. Your legs buckle, but he holds you up by the throat and hair, fucking you through it mercilessly, drawing it out until you're sobbing from overstimulation.
But he doesn't stop.
He forces you into another one almost immediately, fingers still on your clit, cock hitting that spot inside you relentlessly.
"Again," he demands. "I want more tears. Want you crying harder on my cock."
You do. You cum again, vision blurring, body shaking violently as another wave crashes over you, squirting even harder this time.
He keeps going, pounding into you through orgasm after orgasm until you're a broken, trembling mess: tears streaming endlessly, voice hoarse from screaming his name, pussy swollen and oversensitive but still clenching greedily around him.
Only when you're completely limp, barely able to hold yourself up against the mirror, does he finally let himself go.
"Fuck," he groans, burying himself deep one last time. "Take it all,"
His cock pulses inside you, hot cum flooding your cunt in thick spurts as he cums with a low, guttural sound against your neck.
He stays inside you, breathing hard, one hand gently stroking your hip now, almost tender after the brutality.
You watch in the mirror as he softens slowly, still plugging you full, his cum already starting to leak out around his cock.
"Good girl," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. "So fucking perfect."
@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
Other Parts: Part 1 Part 3 (coming tomorrow, stay tuned) Part 4
Genre: Fluff
Wc: 0.4k
Warnings: None
The wedding wasn't grand, but it was public enough to satisfy both families. You smiled for the cameras until your cheeks hurt, his hand resting on yours like a prop. He whispered small things during the ceremony - directions, cues - never endearments. "Smile." He'd murmur through his teeth. "Look at me, they're watching." And you did. You always did. Afterwards your life with him settled into a quiet routine. Breakfasts together, dinners in silence. He read the news on his phone while you picked at your food. He never raised his voice, he never asked to many questions, never intruded. The house was large enough for both of you to live separate lives under the same roof.
Sometimes when passing his office, you'd see him leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled from running his hands through it. He always looked so effortlessly composed as though nothing could touch him. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same numbness or if he truly just didn't care. But every now and then you caught him watching you a little too long. Not tenderly, not with affection, but with something quieter, heavier. Like he was trying to read you. Like he was asking himself the same question. Like he was trying to read you. Trying to read the role you were both forced to play. And maybe in his own detached way, he knew you better than anyone else ever did.
It started small. A misplaced coffee cup on the wrong counter. His jacket draped over the sofa after yet another long day. You told yourself you didn't care. You'd promised yourself this was just a duty. Neither love, nor warmth. But sometimes when you caught him sleeping on the couch, hair falling over his eyes, you found yourself covering him with a blanket, careful not to wake him. And whenever he mumbled a quiet, half asleep "Thank you." it startled you, because it sounded so gentle.
One evening you came home late from a meeting about the family business. The tension between both families had finally settled. You should've felt relieved. Instead you felt empty. Jay was waiting in the kitchen, still in his work suit, his sack over the chairs lean, sleeves rolled up, leaning against the counter with two glasses of his favorite red wine. "Rough day?" He asked. You hesitated at first before sitting down across from him. "Not worse than usual." "Hmm." He pushed a glass towards you. "You've been caring it all alone, haven't you?" He proceeded. You frowned. "What are you talking about?" He gave a small smile - not arrogant, not mocking - just... knowing.
Next Part: Part 2 (coming tomorrow, stay tuned)
Genre: Fluff
Wc: 0.3k
Warnings: None
Marrying him was the hardest decision of your life, but it's the only way to save your family's business. In order not to put a burden on anyone, you agreed on it and pretended everything was fine. You pretended to love him.
You've known him ever since you guys visited the same class - both of you competing to be the top of the class. Because of that you'd seen him as a rival. A rival you couldn't ever beat.
You've always felt so small around him, which just became worse after you found out he was the one you were going to marry. The moment you found out you were still in shock, while he was calmly sitting down at the table, drinking as if these news were nothing but a weather forecast to him. He didn't even look any what surprised. Just a small raise of his brows followed by the sentence "So that's it, huh?" and a sip of his bitter red wine. He usually drinks red wine in the evening.
He always had an elegant but slightly serious charisma. He seemed deep, mature. Grown. His fashion sense was clean, classy and sometimes somewhat retro. He had a reflected, loyal and responsible soul. He had this warm and chill aura to him. He always kept his cool, staying composed, no matter what. He was always very calm and soft, though all of this made him look cold and reckless on the outside. He's definitely the red wine type. Always been.
He swirled his glass once, watching the dried blood red drink ripple - also a very classic Jay-thing. "Guess congratulations are in order." You said nothing, just stood there fists tightening against the fabric of your skirt, trying to make sense of how calm he looked once again. You expected something else. Anger. Maybe denial. Something that would mirror the storm raging inside of you. But Jay only took one other sip, his eyes flicking up to you with that unfamiliar, unreadable expression he always wore during exams back in school, knowing he'd score higher than you just by looking at the first question.
Jay never made a fuss over anything. Losing, winning, marrying you - it all was the same to him. Quiet indifferent. You used to think it was arrogance. Maybe it was.
iN WHiCH ✶ your teacher offers you a tutor to save you from failing your finals, little did you know he was a lot more than just a smart boy with a stupidly (subjective) handsome face . . .
PAiRiNG ␥ nerd-tutor ! jake x popular-fem ! reader
WARNiNGS ⇆ smut, texts & written au, angst, phone sex, possessiveness, sunghoon is mentioned, pervy jake, wet dreams, jealousy, lots of mini arguments, mutual masterbation, make up sex (kinda?)
WC ≋ 3.5K ( not proofread )
— 💬 : oh how i love nerdy jake .. first time including actual texts in a written story , enjoy babies ! !
the fluorescent lights of the physics classroom buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry bees, casting a yellow-ish glow over the rows of desks cluttered with textbooks and half-finished problem sets. it was a thursday afternoon, and the air felt thick with the weight of impending doom.
finals were exactly three months away, and you were drowning in physics. numbers danced mockingly on the page in front of you, equations twisting into knots that refused to untangle no matter how many times you stared and blinked at them. your grades had been slipping for weeks, a slow bleed that threatened to capsize your entire semester.
mr. hargrove, your physics teacher, paced the front of the room like a drill sergeant. his wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. he was a “no-nonsense” kind of guy, the type who believed in tough love and extra credit as a last resort. when the bell rang and students shuffled out, he called your name sharply, halting you at the door.
“y/n, a word please,” he said, his voice brooking no argument.
you turned, stomach twisting. “uh, yes sir?” he adjusted his tie, eyeing you with that piercing gaze.
“your performance in this class is unacceptable. finals are looming, and if you don’t pull it together, you’re looking at a fail. i can’t have that on my record — or yours.” he paused, glancing toward the back of the room where a lone student lingered, packing his bag methodically.
“jake here is one of my top students. he’s agreed to tutor you after school, twice a week. starting monday, no buts.”
jake. you knew of him — everyone did. the quiet guy with the messy dark hair and those thick-rimmed glasses that made him look like he’d stepped out of a comic book convention. he was the teacher’s pet, always raising his hand with perfect answers, but he kept to himself, buried in notebooks and calculators.
he was nerdy, sure, but there was something about the way he carried himself —shy on the surface, but with a quiet confidence that peeked through when he spoke about formulas or theories.
“uh, i don’t know if i need a tutor,” you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks, the whole class suddenly seeming way too interested in your conversation.
the last thing you wanted was pity sessions with the class brainiac. but mr. hargrove’s expression hardened.
“this isn’t a request, y/n. your parents will be informed if you don’t show up. and trust me, they won’t be pleased.”
your parents. strict didn’t even begin to cover it. they’d drilled success into you since you could walk — straight a’s or you’re a complete failure. failing physics wasn’t an option; it would shatter their expectations and your fragile peace at home. you swallowed hard, nodding. “fine. okay i’ll go.”
mr.hargrove clapped jake on the shoulder as he approached. “thank you, jake.”
jake nodded, his eyes flicking to you briefly before dropping to the floor. “yeah.. of course.”
the weekend dragged on, filled with anxious texts from your mom checking on your study habits. by monday, you were a bundle of nerves, slouched at your desk during physics, doodling in the margins of your notebook to avoid eye contact with anyone. especially jake, who sat two rows over, scribbling notes with focused intensity.
as class wound down, he cleared his throat softly and approached your desk, backpack slung over one shoulder. his cheeks were faintly pink, and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose — a nervous habit you’d later come to recognize.
“hey, um, y/n?” his voice was low, almost hesitant.
you looked up, surprised. “oh, hi?”
“i was wondering if i could get your number? for, uh, scheduling the tutoring sessions. mr. hargrove mentioned we should start today after school.”
the request threw you off. guys didn’t usually ask for your number in the middle of physics class, especially not ones like jake.
for a split second, your mind raced to awkward conclusions, but he quickly added, “you know, for the tutoring he offered a few days ago. texts about times… and stuff.”
“oh. right.” you shuffled for your phone, rattling off the digits while he typed them in. his fingers were quick on the screen, but his gaze avoided yours.
“cool. thanks.”
he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “library at 3:30? i’ll text you to confirm.”
and just like that, he was gone, weaving through the crowd of students pouring into the hallway.
the first session was awkward as hell. the library smelled of old books and stale coffee, and you sat across from jake at a corner table, your physics textbook splayed open like a battlefield map. he’d brought his own arsenal: colored pens, a stack of practice problems, and a laminated cheat sheet of formulas.
“okay, so let’s start with the basics,” he said, his voice steady but his hands fidgeting with a pencil.
“physics isn’t just memorizing equations; it’s understanding the why behind them. like, newton’s laws. force equals mass times acceleration. think of it as... pushing a cart. the heavier it is, the harder you push.”
you nodded, trying to focus, but his proximity was distracting. he smelled faintly of clean soap and mint gum, and every time he leaned in to point at a diagram, his arm brushed yours accidentally.
by the end of the hour, you’d covered motion and velocity, and he’d outlined a schedule: tuesdays and thursdays, 3:30 to 5:00, with optional weekend reviews if needed.
“does that work?” he asked, packing up.
“yeah, sure. thanks a lot, jake.”
he smiled shyly. “yeah, no problem. text me if you have any questions. i can go a bit overboard sometimes.”
the next few sessions followed a similar pattern. jake was patient, breaking down concepts into bite-sized pieces. he’d draw sketches on scrap paper — vectors as arrows, gravity as invisible strings, and quiz you gently until the fog in your brain started to clear.
you found yourself looking forward to them, not just for the grade boost, but because jake made it... surprisingly bearable. fun, even. he’d crack a dry joke about quantum weirdness or share a random fact about black holes, his eyes lighting up behind those glasses.
but as the weeks ticked by, something shifted. jake grew more nervous. his explanations stuttered occasionally, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your face when you laughed at one of his quips.
during a session on energy conservation, you caught him staring at your hands as you scribbled notes, his cheeks flushing when you asked what’s wrong.
“uh, nothing,” he mumbled, pushing his glasses up. “just... making sure you get it.”
you let it slide, but the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken tension. stolen glances during class, accidental touches when passing a book. it was there, simmering, but neither of you acknowledged it. not yet.
a few weeks passed, ongoing sessions settled, the routine turning into daily routine. that’s until park sunghoon transferred in. he was the new guy from across town — tall, with sharp features, dark hair that fell effortlessly over his forehead, two moles, and an easy smile that turned heads in the hallways.
he slid into the seat behind you in english, chatting you up about the upcoming finals already and the best spots for lunch off-campus. you laughed at his stories, flattered by the attention. hanging out with him felt light, effortless. no textbooks, no pressure, just pure conversation.
just days into his transfer, the word spread fast. you were ditching study hall to grab coffee with sunghoon, texting him memes during boring lectures. it was innocent, a break from the grind, however, it also meant canceling on jake more often than not.
the first two cancellations were completely understandable to jake:
but after the third time in two weeks, his responses seemed cold:
you felt a pang of guilt but brushed it off. physics could wait; sunghoon’s invitations were just too fun to pass up.
but jake noticed everything. from his spot in the back of the cafeteria, he’d watch you across the room, sunghoon leaning in close, making you giggle. it twisted something in his gut — raw and unfamiliar.
he’d always been the side character in his own life, content with books and equations, but you... you were different.
your determination, the way your brow furrowed when you wrestled with a problem, the spark in your eyes when you finally nailed an answer.
he’d caught feelings early on, but seeing you with park sunghoon made it unbearable. he felt pathetic, tutoring you while some stupid transfer student stole your time.
the breaking point came during a thursday session you actually showed up for. you arrived late, hair windswept from running across campus after saying goodbye to sunghoon at the gates. jake knew that. he saw it through the library window… everyone did.
“sorry,” you said breathlessly, sliding into the chair. “traffic… or whatever.”
jake’s jaw tightened. he pushed a worksheet toward you without a word, diving into momentum problems with clipped efficiency. the silence stretched, heavier than usual.
eventually, you couldn’t take the random silence. “okay, what’s your deal? you’ve been weird all day towards me.”
he set his pencil down, louder than needed. with his eyes meeting yours — dark, intense behind his black frames. “what’s my deal? you’ve canceled three times in the last two weeks, y/n. and for what? to hang out with that stupid guy?”
you blinked, his newfound persona catching you way off guard. “enough jake, sunghoon is not stupid. and yes I’ve been actually busy—”
“busy huh,” he echoed, voice edged with bitterness. “right. i get it. so im just your nerd tutor, right? here to fix your grades while you have fun sucking face with a kid you met a few weeks ago.”
“jake, that’s not fair,” you shot back, heat rising. “you knew that i never wanted these sessions. i didn’t ask for a goddamn tutor.”
he leaned forward, voice dropping. “that’s all it is to you? months of genuinely hanging out, and im just... convenient to you? not even friends?”
the words hung there, laced with hurt. you stood abruptly, chair scraping and echoing through the uncomfortably quiet library.
“y’know, if you’re so pissed, maybe we should just stop talking. i don’t need your attitude on top of everything im already dealing with.”
“fine,” he said, looking away. “let’s stop then.”
you stormed out, heart pounding.
the argument replayed in your mind all night — his jealousy, your defensiveness. by morning, your phone buzzed with texts from him.
you ignored it. turning your phone off and flipping it over.
in class, he sat rigidly, avoiding your gaze. the silence between the two of you stretched — three days of radio silence, awkward shuffles in the hallway. physics homework piled up, your parents nagging about grades. guilt gnawed at you; jake truly had been helping, more than you admitted.
on the fifth day of no contact, you finally caved, texting during lunch.
the minute the clock striked three, jake was instantly through the library doors. the entire talk was tentative. apologies tumbled out — his for the outburst, yours for the cancellations.
“sunghoon’s cool, but he’s not... you know, necessarily helping me with finals,” you said softly.
jake nodded, a small smile returning. “i get it. my jealousy was what was stupid, not him. let’s just focus, yeah?”
they resumed normally, but that small awkward tension still lingered, evolved even. sessions stretched longer, conversations veering into personal territory — favorite movies, dream colleges and majors.
jake’s nervousness morphed into shy boldness: a lingering hand on your arm during explanations, eyes tracing your lips when you spoke.
two months in, the air crackled. during a late thursday review on electromagnetism, the library emptied, leaving you alone under the dim lamps.
you leaned close over a diagram, shoulders brushing, and felt the heat of his body. his breath hitched when your knee nudged his under the table.
“sorry,” you murmured, not moving away.
“it’s fine,” he whispered, voice rough.
neither pulled back. the moment stretched, electric, until the clock chimed five, shattering it. you packed up in a haze, the unspoken pull stronger than ever.
finals loomed closer — one month out now, and sessions intensified with more work. but so did the distractions. sunghoon still texted, inviting you to parties, but you declined more, prioritizing studying.
jake noticed, his mood lightening, but the jealousy simmered beneath. deep down he wished you’d also text him for more than just tutoring or physics help.
one afternoon, after a grueling session on thermodynamics, you argued again — this time over text.
after ditching jake once again throughout the months of the same session routine. he’d seen you laughing with sunghoon in the hall, his arm wrapped firmly around the lower of your back.
jake’s stomach twisting a lot more than it should’ve been.
silence for hours, then days. no sessions, no glances in class. you threw yourself into solo studying, but progress stalled. your parents’ pressure mounted — report cards were coming.
once again, jake obviously broke first, a week later he was sending you texts that’s consisted of: “i’m an idiot,” and “can we start over?” and “please. i miss tutoring you.”o
reconciliation was slower than the first time you two argued. awkward at first, then very slowly becoming warming.
he apologized in person, voice soft. “honestly, i like you, y/n. way more than just a study buddy. and seeing you with him... it fucks me over. obviously.”
you swallowed, heart racing at the random confession. “i.. i like you too, jake. but this is just so complicated.”
he nodded, not pushing. sessions resumed, the emotional undercurrent weaving through equations and graphs. tension built like a storm — brushed fingers, shared smiles, late-night texts about homework that veered flirty.
three weeks before finals, it all changed.
jake couldn’t sleep. it was 1:45 a.m., the house silent except for the hum of his fan and occasional snores of his dog, layla.
he’d been replaying the day’s session in his mind — you in that soft cropped sweater, messy bun, and glasses that leaned slightly down on your nose. leaning close, your scent of vanilla body wash lingering. frustration mixed with desire, and sleep pulled him under.
the dream hit jake hard. you were there, in the library after hours, but no books. just you, pushing him to sit against the table, lips crashing into his. your hands roamed, tugging at his shirt, whispering his name. he felt your body press against him, hot and insistent, your fingers wrapping around his hardening cock, stroking slow.
in the dream, he took control, pinning you down to a bookcase, sliding into your wetness with a groan. you moaned, arching, begging for more as he thrust deep, his glasses fogging with heat.
he woke with a start at 2:03 a.m., sheets tangled, body slick with sweat. his cock throbbed painfully against his boxers, the dream’s echoes vivid — your gasps, the slick slide of skin.
heart pounding, he grabbed his phone without thinking, thumb hovering over your name. facetime. not text, not call. he knew he’d regret this, but he needed to see you.
the call connected after four rings. your face filled the screen, bleary-eyed, hair tousled from sleep. the room behind you was dark, lit only by the phone’s glow.
“jake?” you mumbled, voice thick. “what... is it an emergency?”
he swallowed, throat dry. sweat beaded on his forehead, glasses slightly askew. his room was dim, lamp off, but you could see the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest heaved.
“s-sorry,” he whispered, voice shaky, barely above a breath. “i didn’t mean to wake you. i just... i don’t know why i called, ill hang up.”
you blinked, propping yourself on an elbow, your oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. “are you okay? you look... sweaty. did you have a nightmare or something?”
his eyes locked on you — sleepy, vulnerable, lips parted. the dream flooded back, and his hand moved of its own accord, slipping under the waistband of his boxers. he gripped his cock, hard and leaking, stroking once, slow. a quiet hitch escaped him, muffled. ‘god, what is wrong with me.’ he thought.
“jake?” concern laced your voice, but you sat up a bit more, rubbing your eyes.
“i’m fine, really.” he breathed, hand moving again, eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the shirt clung to your chest. no bra, he realized with a jolt, your nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric. his strokes quickened subtly, breath ragged.
you woke further, the fog lifting. his face was tense, lips bitten, and then you heard it — a soft, wet sound, rhythmic. your eyes widened as realization dawned. jake was... touching himself. on facetime. to you.
heat flooded your core, a rush of arousal you didn’t expect. the tension from months of sessions, the unspoken desire — it ignited. instead of hanging up, you sat up fully, reaching for your bedside lamp. soft light spilled over you, illuminating the rumpled sheets, your bare legs peeking from under the shirt.
“jake,” you said softly, voice husky now. “what are you doing?” you knew.
he groaned quietly, hand pausing. “i... i had a dream. about you. it was so real, and i couldn’t... fuck, please don’t hang up. im sorry.”
you bit your lip, thighs pressing together. “show me.”
his eyes darkened, a spark of boldness cutting through the shyness. he angled the phone lower, revealing his fist wrapped around his thick cock, veins prominent, tip glistening with pre-cum. he stroked once, slow, watching your reaction.
your breath caught. “god, jake...”
emboldened, he whispered, “what are you wearing? please, show me.”
you hesitated, then stood briefly, turning the camera. the oversized shirt hung loose, ending mid-thigh. no bra, no panties. just you, exposed in the lamplight.
a whimper escaped him, needy and raw. “fuck, y/n... nothing underneath? take it off. please, i need to see you.”
his voice cracked, glasses slipping down his nose. you felt empowered, aroused by his desperation. slowly, you peeled the shirt over your head, letting it drop. naked now, you sat back, camera capturing your breasts, the soft curve of your stomach, down to the wetness glistening between your legs.
jake’s hand flew faster, whimpers turning to moans. “god, so so beautiful... touch yourself for me, princess. slow.”
you obeyed, fingers trailing down, circling your clit lightly. wetness slicked your folds already, and you gasped at the contact.
“mm, good girl,” he murmured, voice gaining edge. “set the phone up. on a pillow, so i can see everything. there y’go, spread out f’me.”
heart racing, you propped the phone against a pillow at the bed’s foot, angling it to show your full body — legs parted, pussy exposed, glistening. his view was perfect, front-row to your arousal.
“l-like this?” you asked, voice breathy.
“perfect,” he growled softly, stroking harder. his free hand tugged at his shirt, revealing toned chest, but he kept the glasses on. “now, fingers inside. one first. slow.”
you slid one finger in, moaning at the stretch. it wasn’t enough, but his command held you.
“cmon, add another baby,” he said after a minute, voice firmer. “curl them. feel that spot.”
you did, thrusting gently, thumb on your clit. pleasure built, coiling tight.
“faster now,” he demanded, his own pace matching. “don’t cum. wait for me.”
you whimpered, body trembling as you neared the brink, then slowed at his word. “j-jake, please...”
“no. not yet. three fingers. stretch that pussy, pretty girl.”
obeying, you pushed in three, the fullness making you cry out. he watched, transfixed, cock twitching in his grip.
“about to take these off,” he muttered, reaching for his glasses. the fog on them causing it harder to see.
“jake, stop.” you gasped, hand stilling. “keep them on during... this. it’s hot.”
he froze, then smirked faintly, leaving them. “bossy. okay, baby. now fuck yourself hard. fast.”
you plunged in, hips bucking, the wet sounds filling the room. his dominance spurred you — demands for speed, pauses to edge, circling your clit until tears pricked your eyes.
“jake.. fuck, m’ close,” you begged.
“i know, me too. c-cum with me.. lemme see you squirt mama.” he coos.
the command tipped you over. orgasm crashed, pussy clenching, a gush of wetness soaking your fingers and sheets. you squirted, a little landing on your phone camera, body arching, cries echoing.
jake groaned, fist pumping furiously. “fuckk, yess...” thick ropes of cum shot over his hand, splattering his stomach, some hitting the lens aswell. he milked every drop, panting.
you both collapsed, breaths syncing. “show me the mess you made.” he whispered.
you sit up to wipe your camera dry, angled the camera to your dripping pussy, fingers slick. he took a facetime photo before he showed his cum-covered fist, fist still loosely wrapped around his softening cock.
“wow,” you breathed.
“yeah,” he lightly chuckled, voice soft again. “this was definitely not on the list of ways to help you pass your finals.”
౨౿ thinking about pervy!heeseung as your boyfriend . .
explicit content (18+) perverted acts voyeurism unprotected sex dirty talk masturbation panty sniffing cum play. don’t like it , don’t read it ><
pervybf!heeseung who appears to others as such a sweet and gentle, almost vanilla bf. but behind closed doors, u knew he was a filthy man.
pervybf!heeseung was (is) a nasty little fuck. before asking u out like a gentleman, he watched u. he always saw u around in ur cute little outfits, admiring the way u carried urself. he’d get home, pulling up the pictures he snuck of u and pumped his cock for hours. any picture of u never failed to make him hard and sticky.
pervybf!heeseung who buys u such pretty and delicate lingerie. he loves seeing u in light pink and black lace. sometimes pretty bras that have bows or gems. he likes to see u get all pretty and dolled up for him just to ruin u later.
pervybf!heeseung tells u to masturbate before he fucks u. he’d get u all worked up, sucking on your neck, pinching your nipples just to pull back and make u make urself feel good. “rub that pretty pussy for me, baby. let me watch.”
pervybf!heeseung who sometimes sniffs ur dirty panties before putting them in the wash.
pervybf!heeseung who keeps a hand on ur upper thigh almost at all times. especially when u were with other ppl, gripping the plushy skin when u get squirmy from his fingers teasing upwards. “stop fucking moving. you want everyone at this table to know how slutty u are?” he’d whisper in ur ear, kissing your cheek after before sliding his fingers into your slippery cunt.
pervybf!heeseung who watches u change any chance he gets. there was something so sensual abt the way u tugged whatever pants or shorts u had on down those pretty legs, the way u slide your shirt over your head. “what?” u ask when u catch him staring. “nothin’, baby. just admiring how beautiful u are.”
pervybf!heeseung who cums inside u and only pulls out once he’s sure he’s finished. he’ll grope and pull at the flesh of your thighs and ass, waiting to see that thick glob of his cum get forced out of your cunt. “m-mmh, hee…” u whimper. he’d only hush u, too focused on catching his cum with his slick tip, gathering it, and shoving it back into ur pussy. “can’t let a single drop go to waste,”
pervybf!heeseung who doesn’t care when u walk in on him masturbating. “oh, fuck yes. baby, come here.” he’ll reach for u with one hand, other one covered in precum and wrapped around his fat cock. “need ur pretty mouth..”
your boyfriend heeseung is really needy when he woke up next to you. he couldn’t help himself but relieving his stress on you while you are still asleep.
pairing: જ⁀➴ needybf!heeseung x girlfriend!reader
word count: 1,5k ⊹ ࣪ ˖
song playing: Is There Someone Else? ~ The Weekend [the heekend!! ><] 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
tags: smut, eating out, a bit of size kink, needy!boyfriend, sleep sex, plot what plot ahh fanfiction, dom!boyfriend, sub!reader!girlfriend
a/n: happy new year guys!! I wrote this heeseung ff inspired by a similar one but the one I took inspiration from was the other way around, so I really wanted to do it this way. yes, anyway have fun reading it!! bai bai <3
- no proofread - Minors do not interact!!! - 18+ - reblog for a cookie 🍪 -
It was late, after midnight, when Heeseung woke up being completely needy. It’s the feeling he always felt during having sex with you but this time it’s more intense, he felt way more desperate.
A hot sensation was running through his body. His forehead was sweaty and he couldn’t fall back to sleep anymore. His mind was already clouded with the scent of you.
Heeseung looked down his body, no shirt just boxers. This abs immediately tensed when his fingertips touched his warm skin. He noticed the bulge in his boxers when he slipped one finger under his waistband just to tease himself.
Heeseung got shy and covered his eyes with one hand, his cheeks were burning, covered with a soft blush. His head falling back in the pillow. „Fuck, I’m going to die.“
He looked to his side where you lay, asleep, unaware what was happening with him. His eyes were all over your body. He looked from your face down to your thighs; they weren’t completely covered with the blanket.
He felt his cock harden as he saw how your chest moved smoothly up and down by every breath you took. Your tits exposed through the thin fabric of your top; your nippels soft and smooth.
Then he remembered a conversation with you a couple days ago. You said you wanted to try out something new with him in bed. He remembered you saying that you wanted him to relieve his stress on you while you are asleep but you didn’t mentioned when.
So tonight was the night.
He carefully pulled away the blanket and pushed it on the other bedside. It was easy for him to get started since you both never slept completely clothed.
You shivered slightly when the cold air hit your body but you stayed asleep. Heeseung was excited and happy that he could do this. Since it was your idea he had the right to do it.
He moved down to your legs and pushed down your panties. Your sweet and bare pussy came to view. Heeseung got even more needy. He was nervous about this cause he didn’t want to wake you up. What would happen if he can’t finish before you’ll wake up?
His hands pushed your thighs gently apart. His eyes never left your face as he kissed your inner thighs up to your core. His cock stared to hurt now. A second hot shiver ran down his spine and his hips grinding desperately against the bedsheets.
He whimpered as he lead over you and saw how innocent you lay under him. He wanted to cum before you wake up. Heeseung really tried to keep you asleep.
Heeseung’s mouth found your pussy and he drove his tongue over your clit. He groaned against you as he slowly felt your pussy getting wetter by each second.
He kept sucking on it and his thumbs drove gentle circles on your inner thighs. His tongue drove deeper into you and his board shoulders pushed your thighs apart, stretching them slightly.
In your dreams you could feel this warm tension too. Your thighs squeezed against his shoulders as his tounge drove deeper and deeper into you. You slightly whimpered and his eyes immediately snapped up to look at you.
Heeseung never stopped but his gaze was still on your face to see if you’re still asleep. A light pink blush appeared on your cheeks.
His eyes never left your face to see your expressions. As he hit your most sensitive spot your mouth slightly opened and you let out a little gasp.
He could only image that you were dreaming about this- and to be honest you actually dreamed about this exact moment.
He kept pushing his tongue and lips into your pussy and even his nose was rubbing against your clit now. Heeseung could do this for hours but within every secound you could suddenly wake up so he had to hurry a bit.
Your hands grabbed to blanket next to you and in your dreams you also tried to find grip somewhere. He saw your motion and kept sucking even harder. As his tounge hit the spot, multiple times, you came all over his tounge.
Your cum dripped down your thighs and Heeseung smirked as he saw your still-asleep but flustered facial expression. He kissed your inner thing and licked your it up to devour your cum.
Your boyfriend finally pulled down his boxers and crawled over your smaller body. His hands were sweaty and his heart was hammering against his rips. He wasn’t sure how to enter you since his goal was to keep you asleep.
His warm hands pulled one of your legs over his hip and Heeseung’s tip was rubbing against your enterace, leaking with pre-cum.
His hips moved in a desperate rhythm and as he entered you he let out a whimper. You were tight around him and he first struggled to fit inside.
But after just a minute being like this he started to move again and with every move he got deeper into you. Heeseung pushed his face in the crock of your neck and he inhaled your clean scent.
His hands trailing into your hair and he leaned over you with his one arm next to your face. Heeseung gently grabbed your leg again and pushed it over his shoulder. This new ankle made him see stars. He let out a half moan, half whimper and kissed along your neck.
He was completely in his thoughts about you, your smell, your presents and the way you feel all this thigh around him, that he hasn’t noticed you slowly waking up.
„Hee…Heeseung?“ you whispered half moaning not aware what was going on.
Your eyes wandered from his flustered and blushing face down to were your bodies joined and you realized what was happening.
Your eyes met.
He was a mess, you’d never saw your boyfriend like this before: mouth open, eyes squeezed together, all blushed and one hand covering his mouth to stop himself from his needy noises.
„Wh- what is happening?“ you asked confused and also overwhelmed from his view. Heeseung still towering over you, his hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his hard cock.
Heeseung looked up to you and kissed your jawline alongside. He breathed you fresh shower smell on your hair and smiled in the crock of your neck.
„I’m sorry baby, I was to desperate to go back to sleep“ Heeseung said and pushed his hips up into you just at the right spot. You moaned loudly but Heeseung mouth met yours and he took in your noises.
„Fuck… Heeseung, plea-please… too much“ you looked around not sure where you should hold on. One moment you were asleep, dreaming of your boyfriend fucking you dump, the other moment you woke up being caged in by your boyfriend with his cock pushing deep inside of you at the perfect spot.
His cock was stretching you deliciously and his hips moved in a messy rhythm. Everytime he thrust into you he let out a whimper.
„y/n, you are so…so pretty squeezing me so tight.. fuck I… I can’t“ he moaned your name and shut his eyes. Your nails digged into he shoulders and he groaned. The messy rhythm of his cock pushing in and out you got you feel like you are almost on edge.
„please… hee… let me come…“ you said desperately. Heeseung smirked cause he knew you just came a few minutes ago before you woke up. He couldn’t keep you asleep but he got two orgasm out of you.
Heeseung kissed your collarbone and his hands fidgeted with your hair. „It’s okay baby… cum for me.“ he allowed.
It took you two more thrust of Heeseungs strong hips and you fell apart under your boyfriend.
Your orgasm crashed through your whole body and a hot shiver ran down your stomach. You felt this feeling before, about hundert times, but this time was definitely more special then the other times.
You figured out it was because you were getting surprised when you woke up with your boyfriend burried down inside of your clenching pussy.
„oh…gosh… y/n… please, please, please“ Heeseung begged not even sure why. You kissed his jawline and smiled at him.
Heeseung rode his own orgasm out of him as he kept pushing into you. His blush deepened by each second.
As he came he let out a noise you’ve never heard before. It was a mix of a whimper, whine and some kind of purr.
His hips lose the complete rhythm. His cum filled you up and the white cum trailed down your thigh. You looked down to see the mess and then you looked back the your boyfriends face.
„gosh Heeseung, plea-please do that again. This might be…the best sex I’d ever had.“ you breathed out. Heeseung was still flustered from his own orgasm. He just nod and hugged you tight…still not pulling out of you.
„Baby… your still inside of me.“ you complained as you saw Heeseung eyes closing. Heeseung nodded „it’s so warm and comfy… please y/n let me stay like this for a moment…“ he said satisfied and sleepy.
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要 ⨾ sunghoon's taken. it doesn't stop him from inviting you round.
朴成训 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 8.5k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、cheating、dom!sunghoon、sub!reader、university/college au、morally grey characters (the reader is a bad person)、misogynistic themes and language (the portrayal of any characters here does not reflect their real life character) 、oral (m. rec)、throat fucking、cowgirl、unprotected sex (don't do this)、breeding kink、creampie、couch sex、degradation/humiliation、multiple orgasms、cum eating、brief spit kink、slight exhibitionism、hung!hoon、size & bulge kink、petnames used: baby、sweet girl、whore. guest starring: hyung line (enhypen) 、sieun (stayc)、johnny (nct)、oc named songyi.⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条 ⨾ thank you to my favourite editor, anjo for posting this sexy edit with the audio that inspired me to come up with this messed up idea (in sexyy red, we trust 🙏🏾). big, big thank you to @yvampyr for holding my hand throughout this fic, as well as being my biggest supporter. i hope to one day repay you the kindness you've shown me 🥹 anyways (!1!) despite the nature of this fic, i really enjoyed writing this and think my writing does shine in some parts of this. please feel free to let me know your thoughts, my ask box & comment section are always open! hope you enjoy, much loveeee! <333
Sunghoon shouldn't want you as much as he does.
He shouldn't want you at all, his girlfriend the lone reason. However, in the packed ruckus of the LED-lit bar, his inhibitions get the best of him ─ making him lookout for your looming figure in the haystack of students. One of the last night's out before the holidays calls for celebration, old Christmas lights string around wooden pillars with popular holiday remixes blaring through the speakers. In true festive spirit, employees are trademarked by ugly sweaters and flimsy Santa hats, a noticeable two standing out from the crowd.
The terrible twos, you and Sieun —your closest friend — laugh despite the heavy foot traffic, a bucket of ice hauled over by your towering figure. Your black leather boots have you stand out amongst the crowd, bright smile haloed by the bar's spotlights, illumination emphasizing your…costume. The sexy Santa stitch of fabric barely covers any skin yet highlights everything about your figure, deep red a compliment to your complexion.
Whosever idea this was, the shorts included, had a drink on Sunghoon.
"Bro," a hard nudge hits him in the bicep, flinch directing his gaze back to his table where Jake looks less than impressed. "Eyes up here."
"I don't blame him," Heeseung murmurs, not even hiding his eyes dipped into Sieun's cleavage. He'd even raised his eyebrows ─ pervert. Not that Sunghoon's any better. "I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away."
"Didn't think virgins had preferences," Jay laughs into his pint, face souring when Heeseung tips the glass to spill down his chin. "The fuck? This quarter-zip's brand new!"
"And they're meant to be the oldest," Jake's eyes roll, pint glass perched on the Harley Davidson coaster. His attention floats back to Sunghoon, spying his inattention. He doesn't need to bet money where his best friend's eyes are. "How's your girl?"
"What girl?"
Appalled huffs of amusement demand Sunghoon's focus, focus back on their corner table they snagged before the chaos.
"What the fuck bro," Heeseung laughs, arms folded over his stomach.
"Hang him by his balls," Jay shakes his head, fingers carding through tousled strands. "Holy shit, man."
It dawns on him then, the mirage of his girlfriend materializing upon being prompted. It's alarming how regular of an occurrence it is.
"Right, Songyi," Sunghoon nods, utilizing repeated blinks to search for called upon information. He remembers her texting him she'd be over later after her housemates leave for the club. "She's good. Can't complain."
The smack of pool balls echoes in their corner of the bar, farm green table dotted with a mixed group of students playing a poor game. Somehow it still manages to catch Jay's attention.
"It's been, what? Two weeks since you got together?" Jay muses, knocking back the rest of his drink. "How's that decision working out for you?"
Not as imagined, Sunghoon can admit. Ever since he laid eyes on you, the angelic beauty and well of kindness people preached of you makes you all the more unattainable. Sunghoon sees you around, not often, but enough to memorize the details. The shy tuck of hair behind your ear, the starfish pendant that sits in the deep of your collarbones, the plump pink of your lips he's had one too many dreams of.
On opposite ends of degrees, common ground is hard to find, but Sunghoon makes it work. Sees you leaving the library when he's coming in, watches you laugh with friends in the campus cafe, gets waited on by you at what's conveniently become his favourite bar despite its extortionate prices. The clubcard makes it worth it, Sunghoon reasons with the guys, but they know better. Know why it's his first suggestion in the first place.
An entire year is spent hovering on the edge of your social circle, a customer-service smile the most he gets when Sunghoon lucks out at the bar. He's not the daring type, so his extent of breaching conversation is trying to find you on dating apps, to no avail.
Unattainable. It must be why he's so bewitched, even when there's no hope. Pushed by the guys and their reality checks, Sunghoon forgoes his pursuit of the campus princess and…settles. Goes for the first girl who puts forward the same energy he wishes you'd give him.
Of course, in a cruel strike of fate, the day he asks Songyi out is the day you finally notice him. On the the neon light-up dance floor of your town's singular club, you tap his back, hand on his shoulder as you stand on the tips of your toes. You're tipsy, hinted in the slight slur of your words, yet it sends shivers down his spine all the same when your voice drops to a whisper reserved for his ears only.
Has he seen a mutual friend? He's never been more grateful not being shit-faced drunk. All the energy drinks his Vodka is mixed with jump start the thunder of his heart, lips parted in silent surprise as you drop to normal height. You're looking up at him with those eyes — hooded, lash-filled, like you want something from him. Because he'd give you everything in a heartbeat.
Sound struggles out his throat, somehow producing a cohesive answer when he's bent down to whisper back in your ear. You smell like vanilla and sweat, the thought of licking a stripe up the column of your neck making him strain against his baggy jeans. Thank yous fall from your pouty lips, a squeeze against his bicep before you're gone with the wind, ducking out to the smoking area where Sunghoon directs you.
It doesn't take him long to yell over the cheesy 00s music if anyone wants to go out for a cig, prayer hands presented by Heeseung. Outside in the chill of early December, a large floodlight is the only source of light in the poor excuse of a smoking area, the literal front entrance of the over-priced club. It's almost alley-like, the size of four parking spaces but Sunghoon could care less. The whirl of cigarette smoke from Beomgyu and Heeseung doesn't even bother him. All that matters is finding you, which he does seconds later, a circle of friends surrounding you. Your tiny tank top provides little protection from the cold, hand running up your exposed arms with cigarette between your manicured nails.
He wonders what it'd look like around his─
"There he is!" Your eyes flaring in a burst of recognition. Of excitement. Sunghoon can't quite believes his eyes or ears. "Get over here, handsome!"
It's one of the rare moments in his life he's at a loss for what to do, deer-in-the headlights look cast amongst his circle of friends who are just as confused. He'll dab up Jay later for shoving him forwards, your hand outstretched to pull him through a sea of people, placing him right beside you as you introduce him.
He's the kind stranger who helped you find your mutual friend, thus finding your group for the night. A soft hand cups him underneath his jaw, squishing his cheeks as your mouth runs about seeing him around often, the cute guy you've seen around in your words. Sunghoon kind of lets things happen, enjoying the receiving end of your drunk affection ─ how you pull him close by his belt loops and jokingly bump into him when he teases you. You're everything he's imagined and more ── sweet, witty and all the more alluring.
He leaves the club that night friends with you and regretting ever asking Songyi to be his. Because he'd never really be hers, not whilst you're around.
"Like a charm," Heeseung muses, a teasing eyebrow raise sent Sunghoon's way. "Imagine the luck - bagging Songyi the very same day she remember he exists."
"Fuck off," Sunghoon barks louder than intended. The rolled eyes at their small table call him to clear his throat, gaining back some composure. "It is what it is, I guess."
"Spoken like a true gentleman," Jay's jokes are endless, as are his deserved rebuttals, another spill down his chin. "Okay, you fucking owe me a pint, asshat."
"Gladly."
The boys don't have time to register his actions nor his true intentions before Sunghoon's stalked off, swerving through the pool-playing crowd and into the crowded open bar space with its never-ending queues. On the TVs mounted around, various ice hockey games play, beer sloshed around each time an almost goal registers with the drunk crowd. Sunghoon catches your eyes hang on on the game, jaw tensed as you pour a drink with a tilt.
His interest in the game is non-existent, but he could be a fan if it means having one more thing in common with you. Sunghoon spends his time queuing doing this, watching you watch the game, serving people with a smile. It's not the same smile he gets out of you after that night, but it's similar in width. Only does it fill with warmth when he's made his way to the front, the mob dissipating on the far edge of the bar, a noticeable quietness here.
"Sunghoon," his name drips with honey, dazzling eyes peering up at him. "What can I get you?"
He swallows the cotton ball in his throat. "A San Miguel, please," he leans against the sticky wooden bar, leather jacket two shades darker. "How you holding up?"
"Good, all things considered," a breathless smile accents your words, hands working with diminished quickness. He doesn't allow himself to consider it's to spend more time with him. "My feet are shredded though. The joys of four inch heel boots."
He leans forwards as if it'll give him a better view, nothing but your mile-long legs in his sight. Fucks sake. "Did your boss make you wear them?"
"God no! This was all my idea," a hand's over your chest, nails matching your sight-for-sore-eyes top. "You know how the saying goes; beauty is pain, and all."
"That seems unnecessary."
"Hm?"
Turns out his whispers do meet your ears, curious blinks directed to him as the polished silver tap lets golden San Miguel fill the pint glass.
"Well, I mean…" if he wasn't making eye contact before, he isn't now. Darting between rainbow-assorted alcoholic drinks behind you, a darts board and the festive season's drink specials. Hand-drawn by yours truly. "You're already really pretty."
Suddenly, the bar shrinks to your own shared bubble, nothing but your awestruck face flooding his senses. The silence would be deafening if not for how hard his heart rabbits in his chest, damn near bruising because even if Songyi's not here to hear this, he shouldn't be saying it anyways.
"Coming from you?" you end up saying, pushing down the type of smile you can't hide."Sure know how to make a lady feel special, don't you?"
Someone would sure hope so. Sunghoon can only manage a tight-lipped beam, his drink perched on the bar-top with little to no foam.
You really are perfect.
Even more so when he goes to pay, the total reflected lower than his last.
"Hey, I think it's a bit sh─"
"Consider it a friendly discount," you wink, hand overlapping his, sliding from his wrist down to his fingertips. The shudder he experiences is unlike anything he's ever experienced. "You know where I am for more."
Somehow, someway, Sunghoon stumbles back to his table, hand soiled in San Miguel after being jostled around. When Jay asks about his drink, his friend has no answer, just the far-off stare that lets them know they're in for a world of trouble.
The original plan for tonight is that Sunghoon and the guys load up on drinks at The Falcon, then make it to the club in time for midnight entry. All of them except for Sunghoon follow through, the latter hanging back outside the Falcon, frost of the December icing the roads as he waits for lights to turn off at the local bar.
It takes enough time for him to pop down to the nearby fried chicken place, fill his stomach and come back. He pops a breath mint for reasons unknown, wiping imaginary grease on his trousers as the remainder of your colleagues leave the dimmed business, trading curious gazes at his residual figure.
"Sunghoon?"
A conscious decision. Even though you've see him, he can still walk away. He can stil curse himself creating blurred lines and take his dirty secret to the grave.
Except he doesn't. He only stares at the dip in your cleavage as you strut over in heels that must be killing you, red leather shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Your sheepskin coat is meant to provide some relief, but with how long it is, it swallows every bit of visible clothing on you.
It's a while before Sunghoon can get out any coherent words.
"Figured you could use the company," comes out scratchy, airy in some places."Here, take this."
Without thinking, he's slipping off his sneakers, stripping off his socks that will soak up the icy pavement anyways. On one knee he drops, peering up at you.
"Oh, I couldn't─"
“You will."
Unbeknownst to Sunghoon, something awakens in you at his final tone. Quiet compliance allows for him to unzip your boots, your hand braced against his shoulder as he slips off your shoes and puts his on. Silence dominates the low whisper of a half-asleep town, the tick of the pedestrian green light leading Sunghoon to walk alongside you, making sure you get home safe.
Amongst other things.
"The guys aren't with you…" you finally say, eyeing your boots he wouldn't let you carry.
"Yeah, they went out," he explains, walking closest to the road."I wasn't feeling it tonight."
The lone car on the roads drives past your ambling figures, in no way diminishing the sound of your next words.
"So, I get you all to myself then," something mischievous curves your lips, a small part of Sunghoon's fantasies. "Wait, what was it you said earlier? I couldn't hear you, the bar was so loud."
When Jay couldn't stand his shit anymore and pushed Sunghoon to get his refill, the bar got busy again, no time for quiet conversation.
It just had to happen when Sunghoon had something to ask.
"The guys and I are throwing a party when we're all back, before exams," the words come out choppy, like he's frigid from the cold beneath his feet. It's what your assumption should be, rather than him being nervous. "It'd be g-good to see you there."
More silence.
And a sudden stop, your hands weighted in your beige coat's pockets as Sunghoon whirls around, in full view of you haloed by the lights of town centre.
"Did you wait until my shift was over to ask me?"
He shrugs, feigning indifference.
"It's dark out; I'm not the kind of guy who'd willing let you walk home alone," he mirrors you, hands in his back jean pockets instead. "It doesn't hurt I had something to tell you as well."
"Oh, Sunghoon," You say his name like it's sacred, a word shared only between you two. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, a text would do. You have my number, right?"
No, he doesn't. He's been kicking himself ever since that smoking area for not asking for it, because maybe it wouldn't be as weird asking as opposed to during the daylight of your campus. Prying eyes, creeping guilt, all that jazz.
He shakes his head no.
"Let's change that."
Under a pale yellow streetlight, Sunghoon gains the only number he's wanted in his phone, ignoring the one that's let him know she's let herself into the guys' house. You don't see it, his phone is on Do Not Disturb. Plus, it's harmless really, just contact information exchanged. He's done the same with people, other girls he's had group projects with.
You're not other girls though.
"Goodnight, Sunghoon." is the whisper you leave him with when you've reached your house. It's streets down from his.
When you disappear behind the closure of your front door, your absence is alarming. The walk back home is just as deafening, a gnaw carving at his chest cavity persisting until it's a black hole. He's still cold even after you've given back his shoes, squeezing his bicep again in thanks.
When Sunghoon gets back home, Songyi soundly sleeps in his bed, curling into him when he slips into bed. She looks peaceful, waves of midnight fragrant with citrus. He hasn't had the heart to tell her he hates oranges.
Not long after she dozes again, a light snore her tell, he pries himself away. Treading down the carpeted hall upstairs, he locks himself away in the bathroom, fucking his fist to the thought of you and those damn shorts.
The Christmas break is agonizing. In addition to going back to his family who see no need for privacy, you text him from time to time, sending selfies of your latest adventures at home. Your ginger cat sleeping in your lap, the Christmas market your friends accompany you to, the white-icing Christmas cookies you make. Your nose is scrunched up, icing on the button of your nose. This is his agony, seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it.
At some point over the break, you don't text as much, don't text at all and Sunghoon worries. Worries that maybe you've found out about Songyi and he wouldn't say there goes his chance, but it's a feeling vaguely similar to that. Losing your proximity, the press of your touch, the sugary-sweet words you use only with him. He hasn't had you long but he can't stand the thought of losing you, not for anyone.
Ultimately, he doesn't have time to ponder longer since his degree demands attention, so he begrudgingly gives in. Studying through the days, helping out around the house, seeing old friends through the days leading to him driving up to uni again, a flutter in his chest. The guys are already setting up for the party, stacking up the red cups and getting out foldable tables for beer pong. Jake's even taken the liberty of putting up party decorations, in the middle of hanging up a gold party streamer in one of the walkways.
"Is that straight?" he quizzes from atop the step ladder.
"Just a bit to the right, then you're all good." Songyi instructs in her small, cautious tone. As if sensing his presence, her head whips back, expression alight with fondness. "Hoon, you're here!"
She barrels into his arms, hard pressed into his chest as his arms slowly circle her. He ignores Jake's blatant stare, opting to play his part as Songyi's boyfriend as he caresses the back of her head. He would've kissed her there, but the citrus scent is too strong for him to stay long.
"Tonight's gonna be amazing, I can't wait for everyone to get here."
He smiles, something wicked behind it. "Me too."
A friend of a friend who Jay knows holds down the aux for the night, his very own deck assembled in the middle of the spacious living room. Strobe lights flash, every colour under the sun dotted on the walls otherwise tainted in darkness, bustling conversation and warm bodes swarming their house not built for so many occupants. Sunghoon usually wouldn't be too pleased queueing for the bathroom in his own house, but the carefree atmosphere is something he's desperately needed after being shackled to his study desk. Not that exams are over, or have even started, but it's good to have the break before he has to clock in for obscenely long shifts at the library.
It doesn't hurt you texted him earlier, asking for his address. You'd also shown him your outfit options, questioning whether either of the three are too 'dressy.'
He has to take a moment outside to collect himself.
The text was sent over an hour ago, so you should be here. On his way back into the house, Jake catches him by his shoulder, eyebrows hardset through his wispy fringe.
"You wouldn't happen to know why she's here, would you?" he asks.
No need for elaboration. They both know who she is.
"Not a clue," he pouts, ignoring the hard pulse in his neck. "The parties' all over everyone's story. Maybe she invited herself."
Jake doesn't buy it.
"Your girlfriend's here," he grits out, white-knuckling his best friend's shoulder. "Remember that."
He deserts him for more light-hearted conversation, blending into the group of people seamlessly, Sunghoon long forgotten.
Don't I know. He'd stew longer in Jake's words but the rush of adrenaline through him propels him elsewhere. To you, finally here. Which explains why he's sifting through the crowd for you, coming through their backyard (makeshift smoking area) into the kitchen, venturing into the living room where he promptly halts.
Against one of the white walls of the room, adorned with cutout faces of everyone living in the house (Jake and Songyi's idea) is you, beautiful as ever. You're wearing a sequin skirt only you could pull off, a plain off the shoulder top showing enough skin to drive Sunghoon wild with your starfish necklace completing the look. His night should be made; you're here, in his living room, at the house party that will surely to be remembered.
Except you're talking to none other than Songyi.
A boulder-like weight sinks down in his stomach like an anchor, a greenish feeling invading his weakening body. You're talking, very much engaged in conversation as Songyi uses her hands talking in your ear, your occasional nod a sign of understanding. Maybe the understanding that Sunghoon's a bum, a man with no backbone. A man who's already emotionally cheated, so what's stopping him from doing it physically? The room spins, Equator-hot as light strobes feed into his overstimulation.
Before Sunghoon can scramble for the words, you spot him. The look is brief, no indication for the second that feels like an hour before your hand raises in a wave, politeness curving on your lips. Songyi follows your line of sight, giving one clap before she flags him over, pulling him through dancing bodies since his feet are paralysed with fear.
Fear of the unknown, of the reality he may have ruined being deceitful.
Songyi hangs off his bicep, her hold not as comforting. Sunghoon hates this, being on the other end of a conversation with you, not beside you like he wants. At least it gives him a vantage point to see what you're thinking, not that your expression gives it away.
"This is the guy I was telling you about," Songyi yells over the music. "My boyfriend, Sunghoon."
A bomb might as well have gone off, its aftermath forcing his eyes shut as all he can do is await his fate. Nothing's up for discussion, Sunghoon has sent clear signs he's interested in you. You'd be something else to think otherwise, you'd be right to chew him out in front of everyone.
"I heard," your lips' curve extends, hand held out for a shake. Sunghoon can only blink. "He's a regular at my bar. Never goes elsewhere."
Under duress is how he shakes your hand, the live-wire spark still the same for those fleeting seconds, your grip on his a second too long. He doesn't meet Songyi's gaze.
"The Falcon, right? God, he might as well rent a room there," his girlfriend rolls her eyes, swatting at his chest. "I've been trying to put him on other bars, but turns out he's pretty stubborn."
"He knows where home is," you say, loud enough to be heard. "I guess."
Through his eyebrows, he looks at you, you already looking at him. He doesn't know what you're up to, not the slightest clue, but he'll find out soon enough.
His night continues like this, on edge. You don't allow him a moment alone, occupied with groups of friends like the social butterfly you are. There's even a point where you're with Jay, Heeseung and Jake. Upon seeing him, his friends save for Jake give him flared eyes, your presence gone as soon as he nears. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or say. All he knows is he's chasing after you. In his own damn house, with Sonyi on his arm.
Somehow time evades him, the desolation of their trashed house speaking to the late hour. Three in the morning. By then, the cops have come round, snarky neighbours making a noise compliant that after the threat of arrest, people filter out.
All that's left is half-hung decorations, a red-cupped floor and missing forks in their utensils draw. The strobe lights are still going, their crackled murmur background noise. Jay's friend of a friend, Johnny paid his dues, had the roof nearly cave in from how hard people were jumping around, and is gone too.
It's a mess. The house and his friends who are nowhere to be found. Songyi went upstairs earlier complaining of a migraine, Jake's gone to smoke a joint two doors down, Jay's passed out on the toilet and Heeseung is miraculously losing his virginity. In a surprise turn of events, he manages to charm your friend from the bar, Sieun. And someway, in the dying minutes of the party, she leads him up the stairs to his room. He'd given Sunghoon the biggest thumbs up before he disappeared. Not a soul left behind.
A cup crushes beneath a foot, turning his head.
His breath catches.
There you are, doused in delicate kitchen light, stepping into the lounge like you're his saviour. Bashfulness pulls at your features, so put together despite the mess surrounding you.
"Figured you could use the help," you offer, a playful spread amongst your features. "Payback for the other night."
The rubbish bag floats out his hand, picked up with a flush. "You don't have to."
"I want to," it's final, your tone. Firm, knowing. "Let me help you."
With a deep swallow, he resumes picking up rubbish in the common areas of their house, lost possessions mixed in with trash people didn't try putting away. As per your suggestion, he finds an empty beer box, used as the lost and found box you'll post about on your socials for everyone to find. You work without many words, only exchanging some when necessary. It's not the same silence you shared back before the holidays, that was tender, almost pure. This…is charged, festering. Pushing under his fingernails, attuning him to every sound you make.
Eventually, when all rubbish is cleared and stacked outside on the curb for collectors come daybreak, Sunghoon collapses to the couch, springs hissing under him. You hovered behind him outside and now inside, some hesitation riddles your movements. Sunghoon misses it with his head lolled back, arm covering his eyes for a moment's break.
You're revealed to him when the hesitation is gone, cast in the soft orange wall light of the living room, strobe lights and TV turned off.
During the party, you'd watched the hockey game playing, just as you'd done at Falcon. The difference is that Sunghoon now knows the roaster, an app downloaded on his phone for the latest gameday news.
"Want me to order you an uber?" he asks, voice wavering. He's nervous, running shaky hands up and down the grain of his jeans. "I'd drive you home, but I've had a drink. Or many. I could walk you home if you─"
"I'm good here."
Your words hang for a moment, a guillotine of crashing reality Sunghoon's mind is scrambling to comprehend.
"O…kay?"
He's defenceless, watching you fold onto the couch beside him, one leg crossed with your knee touching his. Even through fabric, your touch is searing. Sunghoon would jolt back, as he pretends he doesn't, but he's frozen in place, perplexed.
Not getting his hopes up.
"So," you start, vanilla scent wafting his way. "Your girlfriend…she's cute."
Sunghoon's lightheaded, dots dominating his feverishly-blinked vision. "Yeah."
"How long you been dating for?"
"A few weeks," Sunghoon answers, unsure. "Give or take."
Your chin lifts, searching. "When's the first time you saw me?"
"Mid October, last year," he replies straightaway. "You'd just started working at Falcon."
A pause, a purposeful one meant to underline how his two responses differ according to who they involve.
"Hm," your elbow props into the storm grey blanket over the ripped leather couch, chin in your palm. His body's not facing you, but he's got his head craned to you. "Interesting."
Sunghoon feels vulnerable, stripped to his barest in what's meant to be the comfort of his home. Only now, it feels like your evil lair.
"Were you gonna tell me?"
Was he? Sunghoon isn't sure, like many things in his buzzing brain. This predicament, your knee on him, how much he likes you, why he's still with his girlfriend. The latter haunts him more than he likes, a discomfort he pushes into a door slammed shut. Yet, it fights back, piling out of the door, demanding an answer.
And truthfully, he doesn't have a clear answer. He just didn't want to be the dickhead who breaks up with Songyi the day they got together.
Rather, he's the dickhead who's cheating on her.
His fingers interlace, a ricochet inside him. "Do you─" he clears his throat, struggling. Not looking at you. "Do you care?"
Another pause. Tonight's been full of them, a lot contemplated with the absence of words.
"No."
He's live-wire again, shuddering out a breath desperately pushing out his fragile lungs. The house is cold, gusts of wind carrying through cracked open windows in the lounge. He shivers, not from the temperature, because you're quickly undoing every stitch of restraint he has.
"I wish I could control myself with you." he admits. To himself, to you.
"Don't," is your low answer, shifting out his peripheral. "It's no use."
At the turn of his head, your knee presses into him further. You're closer now, and he's finally turned his body towards you, a mess of limbs, even messier people owning them. Everything is still, not even the early morning birds crowing, almost as if the rest of the world has left you two behind.
The thought makes everything after this easier.
No one knows who leans in first, but he feels it, the hover of your face and the fan of your breath. It's syrupy sweet, a burst of flavour once your lips press together. His life is never the same again, light and colour so vivid that he can't go back to things before, the imprint of your lips forever remembered. Fingers in his hair, you tether yourself to him to keep yourself from sinking further into desire, the hard pull earning a drawn out moan, muffled by the smacks of moving lips.
Unfathomable greed dictates your actions, not enough closeness between each other, so you straddle him, his large hands skimming your sides, thumb tracing patterns into goosebump-riddled skin. Sunghoon takes, deepening the kiss by gliding a tentative stripe to your bottom lips, welcoming your taste. Finally, he knows what you taste like - an undercurrent of Diet Pepsi and that strawberry gum he sees you smack on.
A hitch in your breath comes when his hands venture further, cold against your warming skin, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. A mewl bleeds into the kiss, hips in prime position for a grind you give into. His grip tightens on your ribcage, shuffling slightly to meet your next grind coming in waves. The scratch of his jeans against your damp underwear creates the friction you've long craved.
Moments pass like this, drinking each other in, tongues brushing, moans swallowed before you pull back. Not enough to bring frigidness into your fold, but enough to catch your breath, forehead pressed to his.
His face is in your hands, held like porcelain as your thumb graze. Comb over his eyebrows, down the slope of his neck, over his plump kissed lips, thumb pad catching the fan of his breath against it. Hands move again, cupping his cheeks as your eyes brim with hidden affection.
"You're so handsome."
A few chaste kisses are all Sunghoon gets before your lips migrate, starting their journey on the sharp edge of his jaw, down the column of his neck. Focused on branding his skin, Sunghoon's hands take control of your aimless hips, grinding you flush against his erection. He groans, teeth in his bottom lip so he can continue getting away with this, you on him and everything it entails. Before he comes to, you're on your knees, pleased as can be as you unbutton his black jeans, lowering them with his underwear to expose his cock.
A desire to pull up his trousers and run off gnaws at his overheating skin, his thoughts muddling as you don't hide how enamoured you are by his cock. He's bigger than you're used to, shaft ribbed with angry veins with a fat tip leaking enough precome to make your stomach turn. The tip of your index finger descends from his happy trail, following stray veins as his skin quivers under your touch, finger running along the veins of his cock to the tip, thumb running over his slit. Because you can't help yourself, you lick him off your thumb.
Sunghoon swears his brain malfunctions, conjures images that can only remain true in the realm of his wildest dreams because there's simply no way you're on your knees for him, licking his come like it's the best thing you've tasted. He groans, fingers moving into your hair as you cover his tip in chaste kisses, swirling your tongue flat against the skin, contact eliciting a hiss through his bared teeth.
He can't remember when last he got a blowjob, Songyi shy and intimidated enough by his size and sex in general to only go as far as a handjob. Her hands barely fit around him, inexperience leaving her stranded for what to do in compensation. But you know, hand seeking out the slick between your legs to lather the rest of his length from harsh friction. It's the single most hottest thing he's ever seen, the grin you do afterwards a close second as you take him into your mouth, jaw unhinging to cover all your bases.
Your head starts to bob, working him further into you, hand close behind your lips forming a tight tunnel to make up for the inches you can't take. The sloppy work of the blowjob eats away at the quiet of the night, Sunghoon's groans and whines thrown in to complete the image as he relishes in the comfort of your mouth. You're so good at it, knowing the right pressure, messy with the level of enthusiasm that slightly worries him he'll come too soon.
It's like you're drunk off him, rhythm never wavering as greed controls how much of his twitching cock you stuff yourself with, getting overzealous as his tip pushes past a gag point. Your throat closes up, a hard gag fluttering around his tip. His fingers go to pull hard at your strands before he remembers better and releases.
Noticing his motions, you pry from him with saliva overlining your lips, hands taking over.
"It's okay," you almost laugh, eyes creased with innocent-like laughter. "You can be a little rough with me. I promise I'll like it."
Sharpness prickles at his spine, surprised. "Y-you sure?"
"Yeah," you nod, tongue swirling around his tip again, only this time you're looking him square in the eyes. "Pull my hair, fuck my throat─it'll make taking you easier."
The groan Sunghoon emits is almost carnal, everything within him used to not flood your mouth with come. You get back to bobbing on his cock, pushing yourself to see how far you can take him even if you gag, water lining your eyes as you cycle through routine gags. The fullness of your throat pulls your nipples taut, your underwear sticking to you in tortured mess.
"Hold on, I'm gonna come," he pants, forehead creased as his hand pull harder on your hair. The smile against his length tells him you don't care for his warning, your pace increases. At this point, you don't care much for what your body can't take, only making him come, your wish quickly coming true.
Sunghoon's rendered desperate enough, shallow bucks of his hips meeting the back of your throat, pleased hums vibrating around him done to undo him. He hits the back of your throat one last time, his hands on either side of your head as he comes down your throat. Pure filth oozes out his lips, moans seeping deep into your bones, choking on the taste of him.
As Sunghoon returns from the wall of pleasure he's rammed into, his body sinks back while his grip loosens on you. Bringing your head up, you showcase his latest masterpiece as your lips detach with a wet pop.
You're filthy, half your face smeared in slobbered saliva and his come, and yet, you've never looked more perfect. So his, tongue darting out to lick the corners of your mouth, eyes moon crescents as you smile at him, a sheepish giggle following.
He's already hard.
"I can't wait anymore."
Surprise splashes onto your face. "You don't need a minute to…?"
"I've waited long enough," his thumb catches one last trace of come, dragging back to the centre of your lips where you lick it clean. His cock kicks, filling in.
Ever the gentlemen, he helps you to your feet, pulling you onto his lap before you toss your top aside, breasts on full display. The fact you didn't bother wearing a bra kept him semi-hard the entire night.
You collapse into messy kisses again, noses bending to dull aches, moans muffled to plush lips moving in unison. Everything is frantic and all-consuming, his shirt tossed aside to the roam of your hands, ghosting over his muscled torso while he grabs a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh to the high whine of your throat.
"I didn't want─" he pants, licking over your lips to make you shiver. "─to do this on the couch."
He sounds so sincere, so sweet. You can't help but chuckle a little, indenting gentle teeth marks into his lip.
"If it were up to me, we'd be doing this on your bed next to her," you murmur, smirking into his quiet gasp. "But this works. As long as I have you."
"You always did."
You're so pressed to stick together, your skirt only bunches up on your hips, making small ridges into your hips. Sunghoon lowers his jeans enough to free himself, his cock standing tall, throbbing with a leaking tip that's red enough to hurt.
"Fuck," he curses, transfixed on you pulling your underwear to the side, material soaked through. "I don't have a condom."
"Don't need it," you hum, hips lifting with your hands guiding his tip along your cunt, a shaken breath shared between you two. "Oh, fuck."
It's the last thing you utter before you're sinking down on his length, sighs of relief heaved in the heated space between your quivering bodies. Sunghoon's holding your hips like a lifeline, head tipped enough to catch your every micro-expression ─ the pleased knit of your brows, the low hang of your jaw, whimpers of pleasure as you ease onto him. Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths, gummy walls burning to the stretch they mould to, devouring every inch Sunghoon has to offer. The lone hand on his shoulder attempts to burrow into his skin, almond-shaped nails gripping for a sliver of stability.
"Holy fuck," he huffs, eyes dropping down to where you're clenching around him. "You're so─shit. You're so damn tight."
"You're huge, what the─" a groan empties out of you the moment you near the base of his cock, features pulled taut. "So full..give a minute."
Through gritted teeth, you attempt to acclimatize to his size, slippery walls working overtime as they flutter around him. Sunghoon's losing his mind, panting like a dog as he fights off the urge to really fill you, teeth seeking yours as they snag onto your bottom lip, drawing back with anguish and the taste of blood.
His need seeps through to you, fuel to your burning fire as your energy harnesses in your hips, moving to drag his cock from under his tip down near his pelvis. You're not working with much speed, but he's hitting so deep inside to draw out meek mewls, his hands pushing underneath your ass to give you more leverage.
"Oh God," he whines, halfway apart as your cunt milks him dry. It doesn't help your breasts swing in his face, coming down with the force of your combined thrusts. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect on me."
"I can't take it all," you whine, near tears with moisture dampening your lashes, a hopeless daze in your eyes. "Move me, it's okay. I d-dont have to walk tomorrow."
"You're taking me so well already," one hand leaves from underneath you, on the back of your head as he leans in to kiss your hairline.
An abandoned thought comes to mind. "Open your mouth."
"Huh?"
"I said," his hips lift, knocking hard enough to release a low-level screech. "Open your mouth."
Malleable to his will, you comply, helped by the iron-clad grip under your chin before he spits on your tongue. Sunghoon thinks he watches you shatter, features screwed together as a deep moan echoes through you. His back sinks further into the couch, both hands back on your hips to fuck you on him, using you like the toy you said he could do.
"This isn't working."
Out your syrupy daze, some leftover sense clings to his words, frowning in confusion. Before you can ask what he means, his large arms wrap around you, standing to his feet. Letting out a yelp, your legs cling to him, wondering endless possibilities before you're put on your back, legs spread. Sunghoon has one knee bent on the couch, his other foot on the ground. His fingers card through his hair, pushing it back before he lines himself up again, slipping right in.
"Better," he sighs in true relief, the sharpness of his canines resembling an animal. "Now I can fuck you how I want."
"How you want." he beams before giving you his worst, months of endless pining coming to a head.
Guilt ceases to exist as he pulls out till his tip remains inside, pushing forwards to bury himself to the hilt. A loud squelch accompanying his thrusts, a river's worth of slick dribbling out your cunt and onto the grey blanket.
"You're─hmph, tighter than before," Sunghoon manages a chuckle, thrusts buckling under your vice grip. "How does that work?"
"I'm taking all of you, t-that's why," you smirk, head tilted like you can do no wrong. "Are you proud of me?"
His surprise doesn't stop him this time, a gradual tempo building with the bounce of your breasts. "I will be when you come on my cock."
A flip has switched. Sunghoon's no longer the bashful man who'd tremble at the thought of complimenting you, reservation letting you get away with touches he secretly adores. Now, he's a culmination of every day he couldn't have you.
"Do people know?" he asks, fucking you harder. "Do your friends know how much you love taken dick?"
Knots twist your stomach to never unravel, arms covering your eyes having little to do with silencing your moans, decibels climbing each time Sunghoon knocks into you.
"Don't stoooop," you slur, cunt pulsating around his length. "My stomach…!"
A mean laugh hits your ears. "You can feel me in your stomach?" One hand abandons the top of your thigh, the heel of his palm pressing down onto the faint outline in your stomach. "Is that where I am?"
"Yes!" you hiccup, brain turning to mush as the dulled stretch of his cock wanes to an rush of ecstasy, heavy balls smacking against the flesh of your ass.
You're doing a better job of keeping them empty anyways.
"So loud, baby," his ears flood, the thought of getting caught more enticing than troubling. "Want the whole house knowing how dirty you are? Want her to know what a good whore you are for me?"
You clamp down hard on him, boiling down to the singular thought of coming. Sunghoon does you a favour by speeding up the process, fingertips collecting slick splashed back on your thighs to rub over your clit, rush of his fingers pulling out a high-pitched squeal.
"Where's your fucking manners?"
Old couch springs show their age as they hiss under Sunghoon's moving weight, the slap of your bodies dangling in the air like an open secret. You sound like you're heaven-sent, so helpless to the overwhelm of pleasure as Sunghoon's cock bullies into you, blush blooming beneath your sweat-veiled skin.
"Hoonie, I─" you choke on the words, pressed for air. "I'm close."
"Am too, sweet girl," Sunghoon huffs, his thrust becoming more frantic. "Tell me you want this forever, tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours. I love being yours," you cry, teary eyes staring up at him, pulling him down by his chain. "Give me what I want. Fill me up."
His hips stutter then, oxygen knocked out of him. "Want my come?"
"Want it so bad, Hoonie!"
"Okay, baby," he twitches, your gummy walls his demise. "Take it. Take my come, sweet girl."
"Sung─ah!"
It's too late, the thread's already snapped, orgasms hitting at the same time. Divine timing, as it's always been with you two, bodies suspended in the temporary bliss of your highs. It's unlike anything either of you have experienced, vision a blinding white as a thick stream of come coats your walls in a warm welcome. Sunghoon looks at you the entire time, watching your eyes roll, the map of delight in the details of your face. There's a shine about you, so special in his eyes, the single memory he wishes to die with.
Eventually, the world starts to come back, timelapse setting back to real world time, exhausted pants occupying the air. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or how to feel, his body on auto-pilot as he falls on his ass opposite you, head hanging off the couch's arm. Weak arms haul you onto the opposite end, limbs tangled like the web of lies you'll continue to weave, tonight only the beginning.
According to the internet, any sex involving the exchange or contact of blood binds two souls together, their fate forever sealed in time. A hoax to some, but an inkling of truth to Sunghoon as he tries to pick up the pieces of that night.
By the grace of a higher power, you two don't get caught, lost in a trance of kisses until the Uber honks outside his house. Sunghoon sleeps on the couch, at least having the heart not to slip into the bed you spoke of defiling, girlfriend none the wiser. Jake wakes him up not much later, holding a store-bought cake he insists on Sunghoon help icing with the word virgin crossed out. When the man of the hour finally comes downstairs─Sieun already having left─party poppers and horns go off, celebratory claps earning Heeseung's hand over his heart, smile the widest they've seen.
Songyi comes down after Heeseung embellishes his story, draped in articles of Sunghoon's clothing. He wonders what you'd look like in the same outfit.
A lot of his thoughts trace back to you, in fact. Not made any better by the onslaught of texts you exchange throughout the day, Songyi picking up most of Sunghoon's slack when he's meant to be cleaning. No regret is mentioned, only the desire to see each other again.
Sunghoon's never felt so alive.
Unfortunately, your arrangement has a bit of a slow start. Rarely do you see each other in the following weeks, handcuffed to study desks and library tables as exams take a toll of the student population. It's always torture, but a special kind this time because in the facade of his life, Sunghoon has little to no time to see you. The most he gets is is the odd day in the library, sat tables away from where you work with friends, grabbing your ass when you pass by.
However, when Sunghoon walks out the hall of his last exam, he waves to his classmates and beelining to your house where you tangle in sheets stained in deceit. Days later, when all the guys are finished their exams, bar names are thrown around as a means of celebration.
To no one's surprise, they end up at the Falcon.
Twenty minutes before rush hour, few souls dot about, the guys lucking out with no queues. You're working tonight, the same scene bringing about shared looks amongst their group. Unfazed, Sunghoon approaches the bar in a confident strut, a knee-knocking smoulder presented to your beaming figure.
"What can I get you, gentlemen?" you bite back a grin, drying off the last few pint glasses.
The guys list their orders, not subtle with cast looks over to Sunghoon. He doesn't buckle like he used to, a calm front maintained as he places his order last.
His elbow braces against the wooden bar-top, a playful arch to his eyebrows. "How about a friendly discount?"
You're picking out their glasses, shaking your head with a chuckle.
"No can do─my boss is onto me," your cheeks bunch up in the smile you can't hide much longer. "The best I can do is this,"
In real time, the guys witness Sunghoon and you lean towards each other, quick lock of your lips blowing their heads right off. Sunghoon pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip, mischief in your features as you add on. "Grab a seat. I'll come over with those drinks."
Without a hitch, Sunghoon leads the way to their corner table of the bar, the pool table occupied again. The ongoing game is the least of Jay's concerns, his and the rest of the guys bewildered stares boring into Sunghoon's skull.
"What the hell was that?" Heeseung breaks first.
"Aren't you with, what's her face?" Jay says, snapping his fingers with nothing to show for it.
"Songyi." supplies Jake, a dirty knit in his eyebrows. "Are you cheating on her?"
Their longtime friend doesn't elaborate, not bothering with words as Sunghoon fishes out his phone out from his pocket. After a few careless swipes, his phone is pushed to the centre of the round table, his three roommates leaning in to read the tragic texts.
Sunghoon: I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore.
Sunghoon: There's somebody else.
thank you for reading! („• ֊ •„)੭
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it's genuinely such a joy to see you in my notifs, stella 🥹 thank you for liking my writing, even if it differs from its norm <3 so grateful for your support, forever & always ( ;´ - `;) thank u for reading ♡
When suddenly a hand wrapped around your wrist, you froze.
Sunghoon pulled you back gently - not rough, not hurried, he was too drunk and sleepy for that - just enough to bring you close again, making you sit where you did just earlier. The spot was still warm from you sitting on it. "Don't go..." He whispered to you. Your heart stopped. You turned your face to look at him properly. His eyes weren't fully open but they weren't closed either.
He was awake.
Awake enough.
Aware enough.
And his voice trembled. "You can't just say something like this, dropping a bomb and then leave like nothing." Your breath hitched. "Sunghoon...?" He sat up a tiny bit, still holding onto your wrist, his grip warm and desperate. "I heard everything you said-" You made another attempt to stand up and leave. As you stood back onto your feet you said "I'm sorry, I have to go." With the first step you made, automatically pulling your hand with you, his grip on it suddenly got so strong that it almost made you trip. It made you swift on the spot. Your first reaction was to pull your hand back, but he was strong. Too strong to get your hand back. "You were wrong." He murmured. "All along."
Your chest tightened painfully. You were beyond embarrassed. You felt humiliated. Like a secret diary being open by your parents. Chagrined, mortified. Your dirtiest page was torn out. Torn out and read to the world. You felt like you wanted to hide. You wanted to cry, run out of the room, but your feet didn't move. You had this emotional chaos going on inside of you and you didn't know what was going on. Why couldn't you move? What's keeping you from doing so? There was something inside you, that you didn't get. Was it hope? But that didn't make sense either. You just told him how you gave up on it and need time to forget these feelings completely, yet your still standing here, not moving an inch - you didn't know how much the must've passed like this. No one said a word. It was quiet. You wondered what he meant. What does he mean, you were wrong?
"Wrong...?" "I want distant because I don't like you," he started. "I wasn't distant on purpose. Everything I did, I did for you only. I never gave anyone else vitamin drinks when they seemed tired, I never stood between anyone else because they don't like crowded spaces, never did that to anyone. Hoped you'd understand how I feel. I was distant because I didn't know how to handle not knowing how you felt about it."
˚⟡˖movie nights are boring unless you have something to keep warm˚⟡˖
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ cock warming, needy! reader, mean dom! ni-ki, mentions of punishment, spanking, edging, nipple clamps, squiriting
WC: 538
Ni-ki had made the instructions extremely clear.
Sit still. Don't make any noise. Watch the movie.
But those 3 things were almost impossible when his thick cock was splitting you open, your slick dripping down his balls. You're naked, no clothes were allowed after you were caught touching yourself, forced to sit in your boyfriends fully clothed lap whilst you were bare.
Ni-ki's fingers would find your clit ever so often, rubbing harsh circles fast enough to get you to your orgasm in seconds only to pull away and leave you crying for more.
Your nipples were tender, pretty black bow clamps tugging on the sensitive buds, forcing you to arch away from your boyfriends back. "Sit still." Ni-ki's voice is firm, matching the feeling of the sharp spank he lands on your thigh in time with the delivery.
" 'm can't! need to cum," tears are streaming down your cheeks, drool running down your chin as he brings you to yet another orgasm only to pull away when you're about to cum. A scream rips from your throat, clenching hard around his cock.
"Fuck, so fucking tight," Ni-ki mumbles, tugging harshly on the clamps again to hear you whimper. His hands find your waist, squeezing. "If you want it baby, you better show me," His hands move to rest behind his head.
You tilt your head up, confusion filling your gaze. You were allowed to cum, to finish, only as long as you made yourself do it.
You plant your hands on his shoulders, legs shaking as you put your feet on either side of his thighs in the chair. You slowly rise off of his length so only the tip is inside before slamming back down.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers curling into his broad shoulders as you basically see stars. Your hips smack against his, the sound of your moans and Ni-ki's barely contained groans filling the room.
"M can't," your bounces slow into a soft, pathetic roll of your hips, "Please fuck me, please," you press wet kisses onto Ni-ki's chest, your entire body trembling with the need to cum.
"Only because you asked so nicely baby," He grips your waist tightly, thrusting up into you at a relentless pace. Your toes curl, head lolling back as he basically moves you up and down on his dick in time with his thrusts.
"so tight baby, so good for me. My good girl hm? took your punishment so well," Ni-ki coos, tugging on the clamps once more. He kisses down your neck, hips speeding up as his own release gets close.
"cum, need, going to cum!" you clench hard around his cock, eyes screwing shut as you feel an odd pressure finally snap in your stomach. The sound of liquid splattering against the floor makes your eyes open.
"holy shit baby, you fucking squirted on my cock," Ni-ki smirks, hips stilling inside of you, allowing you a minute to regain your thoughts. He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed before pinning you down and resuming his harsh pace.
"now we're not stopping until you do it again princess, better hope you can squirt twice in a row huh?"
AKA━━━━⊱ you get a tattoo of sunghoon's handprints on your waist on the spot where he always holds you when he fucks you
pairing | sunghon × reader
genre: smut | wc: 3.0k | content: smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, masturbation (m), body worship, needy sunghoon (he's whiny), use of mommy (i got carried away), reader gets a tattoo
dms + requests ᯓ open ♡
mcwilla.log : first sunghoon fic, lets cheer! happy new year! i hope 2026 brings lots of good fortune to everyone~ well, on new years day i hit 500 followers, and i couldn't be more thankful for everyone who has ever read and supported something on this blog, you will forever have a special place in my heart <3 i'll stop yapping now, just know that i have a lot planned for 2026! likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated
It was a one-time mention, that’s it. Something he casually said in bed one night – no thought or intention behind his words. Sunghoon was just saying what was on his mind, that’s all. He didn’t know how it would affect you – he didn’t consider them enough to really understand.
You were on your back, and he was above you; classic missionary position. Nothing about it was special – no sexy lingerie you sported for the occasion, no unspoken bet to see who could last the most rounds. The only thing out of everyone’s ordinary was the pace – the damn near abusive pace, that is.
Sunghoon always had a knack for fucking rough and fast. He didn’t mean anything by it – it was just how he was. He liked to set the pace, liked to fuck you like a stupid toy, liked to say the nastiest shit ever that had you cumming so hard you opened your eyes and didn’t even know what planet you were on.
The drag of his cock was so intense you sometimes wished you could mold it into you permanently – it felt that good. People always like to say ‘you were made for me’ in the moment, but seriously, you two were made for each other. It was almost as if God had intentionally designed the two of you to fuck each other. Your pussy took his cock almost subconsciously; his cock filled your pussy perfectly.
Sunghoon’s hands were wrapped around your waist. His hands were fucking huge – enough to cover the expanse of your whole face and still have more flesh free. His fingertips dug into your skin as they threatened to leave bruises behind. Sunghoon threw his head back as a deep groan was pulled out from him.
His eyebrows knitted together, head lolled back, neck exposed, and eyes closed as he relished his entire being in the small and quick moans that slipped past your lips. Sunghoon’s breaths continued deep from within his chest, not loud-enough- ‘ah’s adding to the immense pleasure you felt.
He looked down at you, opening his eyes as he viewed the position you were in. Sunghoon didn’t quite think about it – he just spoke: “Fuck – my hands look so good on you, baby.”
He chuckled softly, the sound quickly turning into a moan of his own. Sunghoon smirked as he looked down at you, “God, if only you could see it from my view,” he groaned before he leaned down and connected his lips with your collarbone.
If you could brag about your boyfriend’s sex game, you absolutely would. He always knew what to say and when to say it, earning him the exact reaction he hoped to get out of you. Sunghoon also always managed to keep up the pace – even on round three or four. God, this man was hot.
Sunghoon nibbled on your collarbone before moving to your neck. He gave you a few kitten licks, soothing the areas he had previously been abusing. Your hands gripped his back as you dug your nails deep into his skin. The two of you were sure he was going to have some insane scars from this – Sunghoon made a mental note to not wear tank-tops for about a week.
A soft chuckle fell from his lips as he made his way to your ear. Sunghoon glanced down for a moment, watching intently as his cock disappeared into you.
“Yeah, fuck, I wanna see my hands on you for the rest of my life,” and that was all it took. You came – and you came hard.
And that’s how you ended up with a tattoo of two large handprints wrapped around your waist; two large handprints measured exactly to match Sunghoon’s own measurements; two large handprints placed exactly where Sunghoon always left bruises.
“You wanna show me somethin’?” your boyfriend whispered against your lips, as his hands continued to rub circles over your shirt - well, technically his shirt. Sunghoon continued to snag quick kisses from your lips, sucking in deep breaths from his nose as he relished in the moment.
You nodded, returning his kisses. Your hands were tangled in his dark locks, thighs straddling his legs on Sunghoon’s bed. It always ended like this. The two of you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other, even for a moment.
Sunghoon squeezed your hip as he pulled away from your face. He watched you intently with glassy brown eyes, scanning your delicate features in hopes of getting even a tiny hint at what you had in store for him. “I’m watching,” he said, smirking as you squirmed underneath him.
Sunghoon’s thumb pressed lightly into your ribs, causing a soft whimper to fall past your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, cocking his head to the side as he licked his lips. Sunghoon raised his eyebrows and bit back a smile as he repeated the action.
You nodded again as your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders. “Don’t be mad,” you said, barely above a whisper, as you began to pull off of him.
Sunghoon had no idea about your tattoo, none at all. You hid it from him well, always making up excuses anytime he tried to take your clothes off. You were on your period, you screamed ‘shit’ as you shot up and pretended you forgot to hand in an assignment, your roommate called you randomly. Well, that last one wasn’t planned, but it sure did happen at the perfect time.
You noticed Sunghoon’s change in behavior over the past month. It wasn’t like he was upset at you for denying him of sex, he was just worried. You were never one to make up shitty excuses in an attempt to get him off of you, you always spoke your mind, yet there you were. Day after day, night after night, pure bullshit slipping past your lips anytime he tried to even put a hand on you.
That’s why Sunghoon was so careful this time. That’s why he made sure to touch you carefully; featherlight as he let you control the pace of the makeout. For the first time in a month - the first time in a whole thirty days - you weren’t running away from him when he tried to touch you. In all honesty, Sunghoon had been starting to wonder if you were planning on breaking up with him entirely.
You stood in front of him as your hands played with the hem of his t-shirt. You bit your lip, gaze never leaving the floor. Slowly, you pulled the hem up until it rested just under your chin.
Silence.
Deafening, terrifying, horrible silence.
You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally cursing Yunjin for convincing you to do such a silly thing. Of course Sunghoon thought this shit was weird, who wouldn’t? You guys weren’t married, there wasn’t a ring on your finger or a claim to you permanently.
So, as you mentally prepared for a disgusted scoff and a breakup speech, you were shocked when a low whistle came out of Sunghoon’s mouth instead. “Look at that,” he said, low and drawn out.
You slowly opened your eyes, peering at him through your lashes. You swallowed thickly, and Sunghoon noted your throat bob. He smirked, biting his lower lip carefully. “What’dwe got here?”
Sunghoon scooched away from the wall, coming to the edge of the bed. He swung his legs over, spread them wide, and leaned forward on his elbows as he inspected your skin; the skin that used to be bare now adorned with a tattoo of his hands. It was his turn to swallow as his cock stirred in his pants.
Sunghoon reached out to touch you, his hand delicately tracing the pattern on your soft skin. He breathed out a laugh, nodding his head. “Is this why you’ve been hiding from me?” He looked up at you, dark eyes pleading as his thick eyebrows furrowed in.
You nodded, chin still tucked to your chest. “I was scared you wouldn’t like it.”
Sunghoon scoffed, carefully putting his hands on your waist. They fit perfectly over the tattoo – obviously, they were his hands, after all. He couldn’t help but groan softly at the sight. Yeah, now he was fully hard.
“You’re crazy for thinking that,” he pulled you closer until you were standing in between his legs. Sunghoon kept his hands on your waist as he peppered sweet kisses onto your stomach.
“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” he whispered in between kisses, “everything I’ve ever wanted.”
You squirmed in your spot, leaning into his lips. A soft whimper slipped past your lips, “Sunghoon.”
Sunghoon stopped kissing you, settling his chin onto your stomach as he gazed up at you. His brown eyes were blown out, a glass finish adorning them. “Yeah, baby? What do you want?” His hands wrapped around your waist, settling onto your back before sliding down to your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. A whine escaped you.
“C’mon, use your words,” Sunghoon’s hands traveled back up to your waist, “anything you want – you deserve it.”
You let go of your shirt, allowing it to drop down and cover Sunghoon’s hands that still found themselves on your waist. The hem settled itself on top of Sunghoon’s face and he huffed a laugh. You threaded your fingers through his dark locks, giving his head a soft tug as you pulled him off of your body.
Your free hand found itself on your boyfriend’s sharp jawline. Back and forth, you rubbed the bone as he leaned into your touch. He was so pretty, you seriously couldn’t believe it. Everyday, your boyfriend woke up just looking like that. Sunghoon walked around with that face, did his schoolwork with that face, fucked you with that face.
Your eyes lit up as you got an idea, and Sunghoon noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing his sharp canines. “What’re you thinking, baby?”
You leaned in, connecting your lips with his. Sunghoon accepted – of course he did. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, yet it still held the softness that Sunghoon had been touching you with throughout this whole interaction.
“Kinda wanna ride your face,” you whisper against his lips.
Sunghoon stops his movements instantly upon hearing your words. He sighs, pulling back and resting his forehead against your stomach. Sunghoon peers down to his clothed cock, feeling it throb and beg for relief at the sound of your voice.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me, babe.”
You giggle at his words, pulling his hair to remove him off of you. Sunghoon stares at you with hooded eyes, smirking. Slowly, he scooches back onto the bed. Sunghoon lowers himself, back hitting the bed as he languidly palms his cock through his sweatpants.
His willingness to do this humored you. Sunghoon was a natural born pleaser, through and through. All he wanted to do is make you feel good, he’d said it time and time again. And you’d be damned if he didn’t follow through with his words. So, of course he’s already in position, ready to feel your thighs cage his head in on both sides and taste your sweet fucking pussy.
And his short lived dreams come true, because he feels the weight of your body on his chest, ready for his command to move forward.
“Take the shirt off,” he says, hand pressed to your stomach to stop you before you can settle on top of him, “I wanna put my hands there.”
You comply, reaching for the hem and dragging it over your head. Sunghoon’s hands fly up to your waist, returning their position to where they’d been for the better half of this exchange. He gave you the cue, and you hovered over his face.
Sunghoon didn’t hesitate; he simply pulled you down so your pussy was on his mouth, clit bumping against his nose, full weight on top of his face. Sunghoon was in fucking paradise. There was nothing on this mortal plane Sunghoon loved more than having your soaking pussy on his mouth. His tongue came out, licking a thick stripe from your hole to your clit.
A moan came out of you, your hands reaching for the wall in front of you. Sunghoon’s hands held you down, leaving no room for movement. The only thing you could do was grind your hips further onto his face – exactly where he wanted them.
Lewd noises filled the room, the squelching and slurping of Sunghoon’s rabid movements the cause of most of them. He completely ravaged your pussy, eating you out like his life depended on it. Your moans echoed throughout the space, and each sickeningly sweet noise you emitted simply encouraged him to do more. More licking, more kissing, more suckling your clit.
Sunghoon lived to please, after all.
You were loud, obnoxiously so. One of your hands moved from the wall to Sunhoon’s hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks and softly tugging at the strands in the way he loved. Sunghoon groaned, the vibrations going straight from your pussy up to your lower stomach where the heat settled.
Every bump of Sunghoon’s nose against your clit, every fat lick of his flattened tongue, every pump of the warm muscle in and out of your hole – it all pushed you closer and closer to your orgasm.
Sunghoon relished in your moans and whimpers, hips bucking up in the air. It didn’t help, didn’t give him an ounce of relief, but he kept doing it. Sunghoon loved eating you out, but he hated being neglected. Sure, maybe he was needy – sue the man.
“Fuck, Hoonie,” you whimpered. Your boyfriend’s hands were digging bruises on your waist, his wrists stretched in an unusual way in an attempt to keep them over your tattoo.
Sunghoon hummed, acknowledging your neediness. He knew what it meant, he knew you were about to cum. So, he quickened his movements. He pumped his tongue in and out, in and out; shook his head side to side to provide stimulation to your swollen clit.
“Baby – cumming, cumming, fuck!”
You were a whining mess when you came, voice high pitched as you sounded like you were two seconds away from sobbing. Sunghoon didn’t let up, continuing to eat you out through your orgasm. Only when your tugging got more intense and your moans turned whinier than before (if that was even possible) did Sunghoon stop.
When he did and you moved back onto his chest, he could’ve sworn he’d been transported to heaven.
You stared at him in all his glory. Your slick juices coated his lips and chin and nose, giving the beautiful features a delicate shine to them. Sunghoon licked his lips, collecting as much of your arousal onto his tongue as he could.
“God – I fucking love when you let me do that,” he breathed out, both hands back on your waist. “‘M so hard,” he whined, a strain to his voice.
You pouted at his words, still trying to collect yourself after your orgasm. Sunghoon removed a hand from your waist, moving to his cock. He palmed himself, a pained whine ripping from his throat at the contact. “Fuck,” he drew out, “yes, baby.”
Sunghoon’s eyes screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed as his lips parted with his words. He softly panted into the air, not even bothering to remove his cock from its confinements – this was simply enough.
And damnit, was it hot. Your boyfriend, so needy and desperate after making you cum that he settled for rubbing his cock through his pants to get off. On any other day, you would’ve offered to help, but the scene was so addicting, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but watch in awe.
Sunghoon’s face was covered in your cum, and it was twisted into something fucked out and needy.
“Please, more,” he choked out, hand picking up its pace.
You leaned forward on his chest, lips connecting to his jaw. Slowly, you peppered kisses along the prominent feature; Sunghoon’s hot breath fanning over your cheek and ear every quick pant. A particularly pathetic whine was ripped out of his throat as he threw his head back.
“Yes – fuck, mommy, yes,” Sunghoon whined as he came quickly, his cum making a milky, sticky mess in his boxers.
You chuckled along his jaw, nipping at the pale skin. A sense of accomplishment swelled in your chest when you heard him hiss. Sunghoon’s shaky hand found your hip, resting on you as he calmed down.
A brief silence filled the room before you whispered, “That was really hot.”
Sunghoon chuckled, hand finding the back of your neck as he pulled you away from his jaw and brought you face to face with him. He brought your lips to his, connecting them in a soft, lazy kiss. The two of you sat like that for a moment, lips tangling and moving only when the two of you wished to continue it.
“That tattoo is really hot,” Sunghoon reiterated against your lips, “you should get more – for me, of course.”
“Sunghoon,” you laughed, breath fanning his lips, “these things are permanent.”
“So? We’re already married, duh.”
“Right,” you said, eyes rolling as you lifted yourself up. You sat there, straddling his waist while your hands slowly slid down his chest to his abs. Sunghoon grabbed your wrist, sensing your intention to get up.
“Swear to God,” he said, a lazy smirk spread across his lips, “gonna let you sit on my face for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah?” You teased him, shaking your head while you got off of him. Your feet hit the cold floor as you grabbed his discarded t-shirt and pulled it over your naked body. “You gonna call me mommy while it happens too?”
A red blush settled across Sunghoon’s cheeks at the mention of his previous words, however he quickly collected his composure.
“Only if you get it tattooed.”
You grabbed one of his pillows, hurling it at his head. Sunghoon’s hands came up to block his face, an unserious “no!” audible in between his giggles. You rolled your eyes, walking away from the man into the bathroom.
Next Part: Part 2
Genre: Fluff, slight angst
Wc: 0.6k
Warnings: None
You and Sunghoon weren't supposed to become close. You just happened to work for the same company, in the same department, sitting two desks apart from each other. That was it. Nothing special.
Except...
He was special. Sunghoon was quiet, composed. Observant. The type who spoke only when needed but always said something sharp or unexpectedly thoughtful. Always neat, always calm, always looking as though he walked straight of a model shoot - cool and distant, yet strangely comforting.
And you? You fell for him without meaning to. The way he tucked his hair behind his ear when concentrating. The way he always noticed when you were tried and slid a pack of vitamin drinks onto your desk without a single word or look. The way he's told between you and crowded elevators because you didn't like crowded spaces.
You liked him.
To much.
To quickly.
But Sunghoon never made a move.
Never flirted.
Never hinted at anything.
Because he didn't feel the same. He was just a colleague looking out for his co-worker. Doing the bare minimum and of course since you weren't used to it you developed these feelings. You kept everything inside. Safe, hidden and quiet. Sunghoon surprisingly drank more than usual, even smiling a little, cheeks flushed, eyes softer than normal. He was acting different. As if he let his guard, that he always kept on, down.
"You okay?" You asked quietly as he carefully sagged his body against the booth. He blinked at you slowly, " 'm dizzy." Your other co-workers were too busy messing around to notice that Sunghoon was basically melting beside you. You sighed. "I'll take you home." You said. "You sure?" Some behind you asked. "Yeah," you answered. "he lives close by anyway." And no one questioned it. Sunghoon was heavier than he looked. You guided him towards your car, sat him into the passenger seat, even bucked him up, then proceeded driving him home with the silence of the late evening/early night wrapping around both of you.
Once you arrived you noticed he had fallen asleep, his heads resting against your window. You felt a little sorry but you had to wake him up in order to bring him inside. So you lightly tapped his upper arm and shoulder a couple times for him to finally wake. "Sorry..." he mumbled. "It's okay." You whispered back, though your heart was pounding. You walked him to his room and helped him sit on the bed. He slouched back instantly, eyes half closed, hair covering his forehead. You hesitated before slowly brushing it out of his face gently so it wouldn't disturb him. His hair was soft, softer than you had imagined. You sat down beside him, watching him breathe slowly , chest rising and falling like he was finally at peace.
You shouldn't have stayed, but your heart broke seeing him seem so... Vulnerable. So you talked, knowing that he won't hear it but that's exactly why you did it. Quietly, carefully. Like he was a secret you weren't supposed to touch. "Sunghoon," You started, threading your fingers through his hair softly. "you'll never know this, but I really like you." Your voice cracked somewhat. "Ive liked you for a long time now. Even when you dint look at men, even when you stayed distant. I know you don't feel the same and that's fine. I don't need anything from you." Sunghoons breathing stayed slow, steady. You swallowed. "It's stupid, right? Holding on to feelings for someone who never saw me in this light, but it's okay. I know I'll get over it. I just need to give it some more time." You stood up slowly, not wanting to wake him up, wiping the corner of your eye. "Never mind, you can't hear it anyway and even if you were awake standing in front of me right now, you wouldn't remember once you sober up anyways."
SUMMARY: heeseung has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. so begs the question: is there anything wrong with giving your best friend a blowjob on New Year’s Day?
PAIRING: best friend!heeseung x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 3.6K
NOTES: happy new year, enjoy this short drabble 🖤 please consider reblogging and leaving a comment (or two!)
I’m also thinking about finally opening up a taglist for all future work, so let me know if you’d like to be added :)
WARNINGS: dom x sub dynamics, big dick heeseung, blowjob & deep throating, doggy, spanking, slight masochism & sadomasochism elements, choking, teasing & dirty talk, heeseung controls the speed with a belt around reader’s head, cumming in your mouth, mentions of heeseung eating pussy, unresolved feelings.
Nothing compares to fucking your best friend.
There isn’t a drug that comes close to how horny you get at the anticipation of Heeseung pushing himself inside of you. It’s hot, it’s messy, and it’s the kind of sex that has you clawing at the bedsheets while he’s demolishing you at record speed. Seldom has anyone made you as wet as Heeseung does to the point where hookups and flings don’t live up to your standards anymore. Getting off is fun, but compared to the unspoken chemistry that lingers between you and your best friend, having sex with other people feels like a pathetic attempt to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two.
It doesn’t happen often. You’re pretty sure your mutual friends don’t even know the two of you have been fucking on and off for the last six months. You’ll call him to your apartment when your friend-turned-roommate is out of town. If the two of you are the last ones to go home, Heeseung will touch you in the car and pull into an empty parking lot to release pent up sexual tension. These intoxication sessions leave you dazed and satisfied when it’s all over, hooking up every other month or so has felt like hooking up every other week because sex with Heeseung is never just a single round. There’s foreplay, heavy petting, dirty talk, and multiple rounds before the two of you think of parting ways and saying goodbye. The two of you are naked for hours by the time you’ve orgasmed for the nth time and when Heeseung can’t stay hard any longer. You’ve both managed to act normal under these circumstances, giving the appropriate amount of physical touch and keeping verbal affection to a minimum when you’re with other people. Everyone else thinks it’s normal–they either have hope for this potential relationship or had let the thought go after years of remaining friends–for you and Heeseung to be in each other’s orbits as much as you already are.
It all started that one night back in April, the heat in Heeseung’s room making sleeping unbearable, especially since you had to deal with Heeseung pressed so close to your body. It’s a bit funny thinking about how hot you were since your neighborhood’s power went out just a few hours before. Multiple blankets and sweaters couldn’t block out the frigid cold that seeped into your apartment no matter if you shut your windows or put on all the clothes you own. Heeseung had offered his place for you to sleep at, and when you took your sweater off of your body with the fabric catching on your shirt until your chest was bare, you realized he was awake because he moaned.
There he was, leaning on his elbow while he looked at your nipples. You hurried to take off the sweater and fix your shirt, pulling it back over your chest, your cheeks heating up at the embarrassment because while he’s seen you in bikinis and short dresses over the years, not once has Heeseung ever seen you naked. You’d thrown the sweater somewhere on the floor next to you and your best friend, presumably more alert at this point, looked from your covered tits to your eyes with the kind of expression that made you both nervous and excited. You’d be stupid to deny that you’ve thought about Heeseung looking at you like this. When he moves his hand towards the hem of your shirt, pulling it up your chest to expose you to him once again, you don’t tell him to stop. His warm mouth was a euphoric sensation. He was still tired, that was for sure, as he lazily sucked around your bud while flicking it with his wet tongue. The affair was soft at first, as Heeseung gradually awoke and your inevitable arousal overtook your senses because the next thing you know, the two of you fucked each other until you both passed out.
One thing you’ve learned is how much you love teasing him. He’s normally easy-going and doesn’t have much to say unless he’s comfortable enough to say what’s on his mind. Heeseung is shy by nature, but he has his confident moments where it seems like nothing in the world can touch him. Sex with you is one of those times, because for as docile as he is when he’s sober-minded, you’re just as bratty and as loud-mouthed when you’re horny and turned on. There’s nothing he loves more than to put you in your place when he’s alone with you.
“You talk big for a girl with a small mouth.”
“Why don’t you put it to use and find out?”
It’s technically New Year’s Day, but neither of you are keeping track of the time. He’s buzzed and so are you. You know testing him is the wrong thing to do, but seeing Heeseung’s patience run thin thrills you like no other. Your body’s already completely naked on his bed with your tits pressed underneath you and against his mattress, Heeseung’s dick lodged deep into your pussy while your legs lay on either side of him. The angle allows him to stay inside of you and present our ass to him, which has undoubtedly turned multiple shades of red as he spanked you. It began with his hands after he saw just how sexy you looked with your body bent before him. He raised his right hand and slapped each ass cheek, continuing as he heard you moan out for him and realized you love being used more than you lead on. Heeseung repeatedly slapped both asscheeks and the sting of his palm felt wild and tantalizing in conjunction with how hard he was thrusting. You could feel both his dick and his hands, and you weren't sure which one you liked more.
Then came the belt. He was obsessed with that goddamn black leather belt he wouldn’t have bought if not for his cowboy costume for the New Year’s Party with a dress code that screamed Halloween. The two of you hadn’t meant to match, with you dressed as a sexy cowgirl fit with a garter and a prop gun that shot tequila out of the barrel. You weren’t supposed to be in town in the first place. Heeseung didn’t know that your plans had been cancelled and that your friends convinced you to show up to this party instead. The two of you looked like you planned a couple’s costume and by the time you were tired of drinking and dancing, you both decided to sleep it off at Heeseung’s place since it was much closer to the party. And now your ass is red from your best friend folding the belt in half and whipping your flesh to watch it jiggle for his enjoyment. He thrusts his cock into you a few times before pulling himself out completely, leaving you to whine at the loss of delicious friction.
“Get up,” Heeseung commands in that deep voice he uses when he’s scolding you, grabbing a sweater from his chair to provide cushion against his hardwood. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You’re too horny to argue, instead choosing to obey and crawl to the edge of the bed before properly kneeling before him. Heeseung’s cock stands with his tip pointed directly at your face. When you stick your tongue out to lick him, your best friend grips your hair from the scalp and tilts your heat back until you’re looking up at him with your neck straining. “Don’t touch me. I didn’t say you could do anything other than getting on your knees and opening your mouth.”
“I did what you asked,” you bark back with a devilish smile on your mouth.
“I don’t recall telling you to lick my cock. Tsk. You’re so fucking impatient. It’s a turn off.”
You laugh at his bluff. “Sure. Must be why you’re rock hard whether you’re in my pussy or in my mouth.” Heeseung grips your hair tighter and relishes in the way you wince, eyes shutting for a brief second while he uses his other hand to grip the tip of his dick, slapping it on the left side of your face repeatedly before letting go of your hair. He uses a bit of force to push you backwards but you don’t mind that at all. In fact, you were hoping he’d do what he usually does–shove his dick in your mouth until he’s effectively fucking your throat at the speed of light, but he doesn’t.
“Stick your tongue out.”
You do as he says and present him the flat surface of your pink tongue. Heeseung guides the head until he’s sliding it against your wet muscle. You can taste remnants of yourself and past orgasms on him, it’s salty and warm and you're tempted to swallow him whole. But you know there’s a limit that you can push before Heeseung would actually leave you high and dry just to punish you. He’s never done it, but there’s this voice in the back of your mind that tells you to stop when you think of pushing him even further, and you can’t think of a worse fate than not having Heeseung make you come.
His cockhead is so smooth and savory to the taste. You look up at him but he doesn’t spare you a glance, instead choosing to focus on the wet mess his dick and your tongue are making. Heeseung lifts himself just to slap himself against you, using his hand to move in repeated motions until you can hear your spit and his precum splashing all over the place. It isn’t enough to cause a big commotion, but you can feel the way it’s starting to seep towards the corners of your mouth and fall down your bottom lip.
“You always want my cock when I pull it out,” Heeseung groans, pulling himself out to smear your spit over your cheeks. You keep your tongue out as he moves the underside of him over your mouth, gliding his dick until your tongue has reached the seam of his balls and then back over again and again. “You look so fucking good when you’re waiting for me to stick it in. Your mouth and pussy are so greedy for me, but right now I want to see your face stuffed with my cock. I want spit drooling from your mouth until it’s spilling into your tits. I want a messy blowjob, you hear me? If you don’t choke and gag, it’s not what I want.”
Heeseung pulls away and grips himself by the base to align his tip with your mouth, pushing the head in. Your mouth encloses around him but you don’t dare to push your head forward to deepthroat him like you normally would. Your best friend looks so determined to use your mouth like a toy and you make yourself look like something that can’t talk or fight back. Heeseung looks the sexiest when he uses your body until he’s satisfied because you know this means he’ll return the favor until your pussy is absolutely spent. Giving him a blowjob is a joy in itself, but you’re equally as excited knowing he’ll fuck you however you want once he’s satisfied.
He keeps his dick just barely in your mouth with two or three inches lodged inside you. You watch him grab the belt from the bed with one hand as he toys with it above you, snapping the leather to make you squirm. It makes you clench around absolutely nothing and the cold draft in his room does nothing to soothe your wet pussy and the goosebumps that have formed all along your body. Heeseung doesn’t do anything except put the belt around you until you can feel it pressing against the back of your head.
You don’t get a chance to prepare. Heeseung pulls your head towards his pelvis with the belt, impaling your throat with the entirety of his length and girthy cock, which makes you gag at the sudden intrusion. His tip nudges against the back of your throat like it’s trying to convince you to choke around him, and you do. You try to swallow by constricting your throat but all of the spit that has procured in the last few seconds starts to seep out of your mouth the longer Heeseung keeps his dick inside of you.
“You look so sexy with my cock in your mouth. I like it when you can’t talk back to me. You have such a loud fucking mouth.” Heeseung looks down at you and listens to the way you gag around him, and like the good girl you are, your hands are down by your side and not clawing at his thighs for stability. You have the most perfect posture when you’re trying to focus on breathing. It drives him insane to see you fighting with yourself because he knows that one part of you loves it when your mouth is stuffed. “It’s cute when we’re with our friends. You’re polite and funny. You always make me laugh. But when it’s just us two? Goddamn, baby. You run your mouth like a fucking train and don’t listen to a single thing I say until I’m hurting you.” He loosens the grip he has on his belt, allowing you to pull away from him to take a small breather, spit flowing out of your mouth until it drips down the side of your face and onto your chest. You suck around the first couple of inches while the belt’s only loosely wrapped around your head. “I don’t want to see you in pain, but you keep testing my patience. It’s like you want me to hurt you.”
Of course, you can’t say anything. All that’s left is the slurping sound of your wet mouth against his wet dick, sucking on whatever you can reach. Heeseung laughs at your desperation and pulls you closer to him again until your nose hits his smooth and defined pelvis. You choke again and it’s like your pain is something that makes Heeseung laugh. “I know you love my cock in you like this. You can be such a sweet girl when you want to be. Where is she tonight, hm? What happened to the girl who let me fuck her pussy for hours a few weeks ago? You were so obedient for me. Did you get tired of waiting for me to fuck do? Is that why you’re acting up?”
Heeseung keeps his hips still for the most part as to not reward you by fucking your face while he does all the work. Instead, your best friend pulls and pushes your head until you move in tandem, feeling the belt against you with every movement of your head. It’s hard not to choke when Heeseung’s dick is repeatedly jamming the back of your throat, the quiet of his room providing an erotic backdrop as you gag around him with even more spit oozing from your mouth. The whole ordeal looks and sounds obscene. Heeseung’s dick stretches your mouth out like nobody has before to the point where you’re sure this session has permanently imprinted him on your body, and you’re sure nobody will ever fuck you the way your best friend does.
His heavy balls swung underneath him, and when he quickens the pace, they hit your chin and jawline. There are too many sensations for you to focus on–his balls, his big dick, the spit, being unable to breathe, and the feeling of being watched–for you to choose which one turns you on the most. Heeseung’s capable of making you go crazy because he’s able to fuck you mentally and physically at the same time. His cock makes you drool and restricts how much you’re able to breathe until he’s feeling generous enough to allow you to catch your breath while his eyes glare down at you like you’re in some evil, revengeful plot to get you to look pathetic for him. It doesn’t matter to you because it’s all the same–Heeseung will make you lose your mind because of how much pleasure he brings to your body and because you always feel desired by him no matter how he’s looking at you.
“Your tears are turning me on,” Heeseung tells you while he uses his belt to control your movements. It’s true, tears have since emerged around your eyes with a single tear threatening to fall to your cheek. But it’s so hot. You’d let him make you cry as many times as he wanted. “You play neutral when we’re in public. Not too sexy but not too innocent. Fuck, you’re so confident that it’s scary. You don’t take shit from anybody. I love seeing you like this because it’s the only time you’d ever submit to me. That’s fucking sexy. Wish all our friends could see you like this. You’re a whore. But so am I, right? A whore for your pussy and mouth, just like you’re a whore for my dick.”
You moan around him, but it sounds a bit chopped with the speed you’re impaling yourself around him. There’s a surprising layer of vulnerability in his words. Heeseung is incredibly good at dirty talk and has his fair share of moments that makes your head spin because he’ll go from threatening to pound you into the mattress to slow, soft thrusts while he kisses your neck like you’re made of something delicate. He’s never been so forward and open during sex like he is now, but maybe it’s because he knows you can’t physically talk to tease him for his vulnerability. If you’re being honest, too, the reward for fighting against him has less to do with painful punishments than it does with allowing yourself to act out and throw a tantrum, one that you know Heeseung is more than willing to put up with. He’ll laugh and encourage your bratty behavior under the guise of trying to make you obey, too entertained by the difference in how you act when you’re naked versus fully clothed. You push his buttons the way people push yours, bite back at him in the same way people say harsh things to you, and defy him like he knows you want to when you’re not having sex with him. This side of you is something that’s been dormant for years and, apparently, Heeseung is the one to bring it out of you.
Fucking your throat feels like granting your silent wish of being used like you’re absolutely nothing because everybody always needs you. Everybody assumes you will inconvenient yourself to make other people happy and this unfair weight on your shoulders is released when Heeseung fucks you so long and hard that you forget all of your problems exist. They become easier to manage when you stop thinking before you act. Your best friend’s more than willing to indulge you, but you never thought he might feel the same way about having sex with you.
“Oh fuck,” Heeseung says between moans. “I’m cumming. Gonna cum in your little mouth. Fuck, here it comes.”
With his belt, Heeseung keeps your face pressed right against his lap when you feel his hot cum spurt at the back of your throat. His cum is warm and you try to swallow around him to prevent his massive load from truly choking you, but some of it still ends up pushing from between your tongue and his dick until it spills to your chin and the corners of your mouth. You can feel Heeseung throbbing against you while he finishes cumming, his cock so warm against your mouth that you don’t mind the fact that he’s stuffing himself down your small hole. He lets go of one side of the belt and allows you to pull your head off of him. You use the pad of your thumb to scoop the cum that’s fallen out of your mouth, sucking on your finger while Heeseung’s dick hangs in the air with a single bead of cum latched onto the tip. You lean forward to lick the slit and only the slit, to which Heeseung laughs and shudders.
“Happy New Year,” he says in a whisper as he tries to catch his own breath before pushing a kiss to your lips with the kind of tenderness you can’t seem to read. Heeseung pulls you up by the elbows and helps you back on the bed after you’ve spent a long period of time with your knees on his floor, this time letting your back lay against the mattress while he hovers over you with his still-hardened dick touching your leg. “Let me eat you out as a thank you for that incredible mouth of yours.” He descends, making you forget about the pain on your kneecaps until you're moaning out for him, cumming into his mouth so many times that you can barely keep track.
Heeseung fucks you with just as much passion and vigor as he usually does and it makes you wonder when the two of you will finally address what’s been left unsaid.
ijbol at me saying i might leave this blog in 2026 but having some steam left 😭
And so weeks had passed and the attention from others slowly faded. People accepted it. You and Jake became that couple in the hallways, walking hand in hand. Sharing lunches and laughing like nothing had changed. But everything had. You started noticing the way Jake looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention. How his grip slowly tightened when someone stared for too long. How he never once complained about pretending. Then one night he texted you.
"Can we talk? Outside your place. Now." Your heart sank. When you stepped outside Jake was already there, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. The streetlight threw soft shadows across his face. "What's wrong?" You asked him directly. He didn't meet your eyes. "We should stop." Your chest tightened. "Stop what?" "This," He answered. "pretending." You stared at him. "Why? Everything been fine." He slightly shook his head, slowly. "Its just... Not a good idea anymore." "That's not an answer." You said, frustration building up inside of you. "Did I do something wrong?" "No." He replied quickly.
"You didn't." "Then why are you walking away now?" Running one hand through his hair, clearly struggling. "People are starting to talk too much." "So what?" You shot back. "That was the point, wasn't it?" He looked at you, insecurity washing over his face. "You don't understand." "Then explain it to me. I'm listening." You said, voice breaking lightly. "I thought we were in this together."
Silence stretched in between you, heavy and unbearable. Finally Jake exhaled shakily. "I can't keep pretending because it stopped being fake a long time ago." You breathed in, confused. "What?" He took a step closer. "I love you more than I should." The words hit you all at once. "I've loved you since before any of this," He continued. "since when I was just your best friend and that was all I was allowed to be. Pretending to be with you everyday made it harder, not easier."
