in which jay gives you lessons on how to get (and fuck) jake sim.
synopsis: when your crush on jake sim turns into full-blown panic about your complete lack of experience, your best friend suggests the one person on campus who can help: jay park — the dangerously attractive, notoriously skilled senior with a reputation for being an incredible teacher.
what starts as innocent lessons in flirting, kissing, and confidence quickly spirals into something much hotter… and much more complicated. because the more jay teaches you how to drive jake crazy, the more you realize you only want him touching you.
pairing: jay x fem!reader (x jake)
wc: 34.6k
warnings: smut! light fluff and angst
cw: college au, love triangle, mutual pining, slow burn. themes of virginity, virginity loss, sexual inexperience, anxiety about intimacy. mentions of alcohol. explicit sexual content (kissing, making out, dry humping, handjob, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex.) heavy flirting and sexual tension, playful teasing, use of petnames, strong language.
a/n: even though today is my birthday, i wanted to be the one giving you a gift. so... yeah, here you go, the longest fic i've ever written. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did while writing! <3
the bass hums low through the crowded living room, a warm pulse that vibrates under your skin as you lean against the kitchen counter, half-hidden behind a cluster of red plastic cups.
the party is the usual saturday chaos — too many people crammed into this frat house off campus, bodies swaying and bumping into each other under the dim string lights someone messily hung on the ceiling. laughter spills over the music, loud, while the faint smell of cheap beer, cheap vodka, and even cheaper perfume hangs thick in the air, mixing with the occasional scent of cigarette smoke drifting in from the backyard. red cups litter every surface, and the floor already feels sticky under your sneakers from whatever got spilled earlier.
but your eyes stay fixed across the room, unable to look anywhere else, like some invisible string keeps pulling your gaze back no matter how much you tell yourself to stop.
jake sim stands near the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the night air probably feels cooler and less suffocating than in here.
one hand is casually tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the fabric hugging his legs just right, while the other gestures animatedly as he talks to a girl you vaguely recognize from your literature class — maybe her name is karina or something close. she’s laughing at something he said, head tilted back in that carefree way, exposing the line of her throat, her fingers brushing his arm every few seconds like she can’t help touching him. the way she leans into his space screams interest, flirtiness, and he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he seems to welcome it, that charm radiating off him.
and jake — good god, jake looks perfect. the kind of perfect that makes your chest ache with a sharp, longing twist.
he’s wearing a simple black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those toned forearms that flex subtly every time he moves his hand for emphasis. his hair falls softly over his forehead in that effortless, slightly tousled way, like he ran his fingers through it once and left it alone, knowing it would look devastating. the dim lighting catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, and when he smiles at her, it’s the same warm, dimpled smile he’s given you a dozen times in the hallway or during group project meetings. the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making his whole face light up.
he leans in closer to hear her better over the music, nodding along with genuine interest, his full attention on her like she’s the only person in this entire crowded house.
that’s the thing about jake. when he focuses on someone, it feels like the rest of the world fades into background noise — no distractions, no half-measures. just him, fully present, making you feel seen in a way that’s dangerously addictive.
you swallow hard, fingers tightening around your barely-touched drink until the plastic creaks under your grip. the soda has gone warm and gass-less, but you don’t care. you haven’t taken more than a sip in the last twenty minutes anyway, too busy nursing this quiet ache while pretending to scroll on your phone every few seconds so no one notices you staring.
you’ve been crushing on him for four months now.
four long, torturous months of stolen glances across lecture halls, light flirting in the library where his knee would accidentally brush yours under the table, and random texts about class notes that somehow turned into conversations about favorite movies and late-night snacks and that one time he admitted he secretly loves cheesy romance dramas even though his friends would tease him endlessly for it.
and, the thing is, everybody knows jake doesn’t flirt casually. if he gives a girl that kind of attention — the lingering eye contact, the playful teasing texts at midnight, the way he remembers small details like how you take your coffee — it means he’s interested in something real. dating, commitment, the whole boyfriend package with hand-holding walks across campus and good morning messages that make your heart race.
he’s had two serious girlfriends in the past three years, one lasting several months where you’d see them together looking so effortlessly in sync, the other stretching a whole year where rumors said they were practically inseparable until things eventually ended on good terms. each one looking blissfully happy in his presence, glowing like they’d unlocked some secret level of connection and pleasure that you can only imagine.
and that’s exactly why your stomach twists into tight, anxious knots right now.
you’re a virgin. painfully, embarrassingly inexperienced.
you’ve kissed a couple guys before, sure — awkward fumbling in the dark during high school parties, all sloppy lips and unsure hands that never quite knew where to go or how to make it feel good. but nothing more. no one has ever touched you the way you know jake has touched his exes. you’ve overheard enough whispered conversations in the girls’ bathroom or seen the way those exes still look at him sometimes with fond, satisfied smiles.
jake is the type who probably knows exactly what he’s doing — patient, attentive, skilled in ways that leave girls breathless and glowing, satisfied down to their bones. the kind of guy who takes his time, learns what makes someone moan and shiver, who makes sex feel like an art form instead of a clumsy rush. and the thought of him finding out how clueless you are makes your cheeks burn even in the middle of this loud, overheated party, a flush creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the alcohol you’re barely drinking.
what if you freeze up when things finally get intimate? what if your hands shake too much to touch him the right way, or you don’t know how to kiss him properly with that slow, deep confidence he probably expects? what if you can’t make him feel good, can’t match the energy of his past girlfriends who clearly knew how to please him back? what if he realizes you’re not on the same level — not experienced, not sexy, not adventurous enough — and the interest in his eyes dims? the flirting would stop. the texts would fade. he’d move on to someone who doesn’t need to google basic techniques in secret or lie awake at night worrying about being a disappointment in bed.
you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste the faint metallic taste, forcing your gaze away just as the girl leans up to whisper something in jake’s ear. her lips brush close, too close, and he laughs softly — that low, charming sound carrying across the room like a sweet melody cut through the bass. it’s warm and genuine, the kind that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach even from this distance.
you turn toward the counter instead, pretending to refill your cup from the half-empty punch bowl, the liquid sloshing messily as your hand trembles slightly. the ice cubes clink loudly in your cup, a small distraction from the way your heart pounds against your ribs.
around you, the party pulses on without pause. someone bumps your shoulder accidentally, muttering a quick sorry before disappearing back into the crowd. a group of girls nearby bursts into giggles over some inside joke, their voices high and tipsy. the music shifts to a slower track, something with heavy bass and breathy vocals that only makes the atmosphere feel more charged, more intimate despite the chaos. you glance back once more, unable to resist, and catch jake’s eyes flicking in your direction for the briefest second. does he see you? does that dimpled smile flicker with recognition? your breath catches, but then he’s turning back to the girl, saying something that makes her touch his arm again, and the moment slips away like smoke.
you set the cup down untouched, wiping your damp palms on the sides of your jeans. the insecurity sits heavy in your chest, a constant whisper reminding you that jake sim deserves someone who can keep up. someone confident. someone who knows how to flirt without second-guessing every word, how to touch without hesitation, how to make a guy like him lose control in the best ways.
and right now, that someone feels impossibly far from who you are — standing here in the corner, heart racing over nothing more than a smile across a crowded room.
the party swirls around you, alive and indifferent, but your mind stays trapped in that loop of what-ifs and quiet longing, the bass still humming low like a reminder that time is moving forward whether you’re ready or not.
“you’re doing that thing again,” a familiar voice says beside you.
yunjin appears like magic, sliding an arm around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. her long hair tickles your neck, smelling like coconut shampoo and the strawberry lip gloss she always wears. she’s been your best friend since freshman orientation — loud where you’re quiet, confident where you overthink everything.
“what thing?” you mumble, even though you already know.
“the ‘staring at jake like he hung the moon but also might destroy my entire soul’ thing.” she steals a sip from your cup and grimaces. “ugh, you’re drinking the watered-down shit again. come on, let’s get you something stronger.”
you let her drag you toward the other end of the kitchen, but your mind stays stuck on jake. even through the hazy, crowded warmth of the party, your eyes keep drifting back to where he’s laughing with some guys from the club soccer team. yunjin notices, of course. she always does, her grip tightening on your arm in a silent show of support while she pours something sweet and dangerously strong into a fresh red cup for you.
later that night, after the party finally winds down and the bass stops rattling your teeth, you’re both back in your shared off-campus apartment. the contrast is jarring, the heavy silence of the night settling over everything. the real conversation happens when the rest of the world is asleep. you’re sprawled on your bed in oversized pajamas, hair still slightly damp and curling from a quick shower, while yunjin sits cross-legged on the floor painting her nails a deep, glossy burgundy. the lamp on your nightstand casts a soft, amber glow across the room, and the distant city hums faintly outside the window.
“okay, spill,” she says without looking up, carefully dragging the tiny brush over her thumbnail. “you’ve been weird about jake for weeks. what’s the hold-up? he literally flirted with you for twenty minutes last tuesday in the café. he doesn’t do that unless he’s serious. he was giving you that puppy-dog look the whole time.”
you pull your knees tightly to your chest, hugging them until your knuckles turn white. the weight of the secret has been crushing you for days, and the words finally tumble out before you can stop them.
“i’m scared, yunjin. really scared.”
she glances up instantly, the brush hovering inches above her index finger. the playful tease drops from her face. “scared of what? jake’s a sweetheart. he’s not some asshole who’s going to play games with you.”
“it’s not him. it’s… me.” your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, your cheeks instantly heating up with a fierce, burning blush. you bury your chin in your knees. “i’m a virgin. completely. i’ve barely even done anything beyond clumsy high school kissing. and jake’s had actual girlfriends. serious ones. he knows what he’s doing, yunjin. what if i’m bad at it? what if i disappoint him? he’ll realize i’m not… enough. not experienced enough. not sexy enough. not whatever his exes were.”
yunjin sets the nail polish bottle down on a stray magazine slowly, giving you her full, undivided attention. her expression softens, the fierce protectiveness she always has for you melting into something tender, though there’s still a sharp spark of determination in her eyes.
“babe… first of all, that’s so normal. lots of people are virgins in college, even if they don't advertise it. second, if jake likes you — and he clearly does — he’s not going to expect you to be some kind of porn star on day one. he'd probably think it was sweet, honestly.” she pauses, watching your miserable expression. “but i get it. you want to feel confident. you don't want to be overthinking every single touch when you're finally alone with him. you want to blow his mind when it happens.”
you nod miserably, burying your face completely in your knees for a second, your voice muffled. “i just want to feel like I know what I'm doing. just a little bit.”
yunjin taps her freshly painted fingers on the carpet, her mind visibly whirring. then she smiles — that mischievous, slightly dangerous, scheming smile you know all too well. it’s the smile that usually precedes a terrible, brilliant idea.
“if you really want to impress him… there’s someone who can help.”
you peek at her over the tops of your knees, skeptical. “what do you mean? like a book? a podcast?”
“sunghoon’s friend. jay. jay park.” she says it like the name should mean something immediately, dropping it into the quiet room like a bombshell. “he’s discreet as hell. experienced — like, really experienced. girls talk about him in hushed tones in the sorority houses, trust me. apparently he’s an incredible teacher. no strings attached, just pure skill-building. he’s actually done this before for a couple of people who were in your exact shoes. helps them get confident, learn what they need to know. everything from flirting, body language, touching, all the way down to… you know.”
your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “you’re joking. you want me to ask a random guy to tutor me in sex?”
“dead serious. he’s not a fuckboy in the messy, heartbroken-trail way. more like… selective. efficient.” yunjin leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her tone shifting into something more serious. “and look, here's the thing. jay is known for fucking the girls he hangs out with, yeah. he has that reputation for a reason. but… you don't have to do that. he's not some caveman. jay is actually the best one on this entire campus to go to for advice, even if you never lay a finger on him.”
she waves a hand to emphasize her point, careful not to smudge her polish. “he might make an exception for you. you can literally just have the option of not sleeping with him. you can just go to him, tell him the situation, and let him give you advice. he knows how guys think, he knows what jake’s vibe is since they run in similar circles, and he can literally just talk you through it. teach you how to read the room, how to touch without being awkward. but if you do decide you want hands-on practice? he's the guy. if you approach him the right way and you’re honest, he’ll probably say yes to whatever level you’re comfortable with. he’s good at keeping secrets too. sunghoon swears he's the most trustworthy guy he knows.”
you stare at her, your heart hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. jay. you’ve seen him around campus, of course. everyone has. he’s impossible to miss — tall, with that sharp jawline, dark hair usually styled flawlessly, always dressed like he just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. he has this quiet, heavy confidence mixed with a sharp, teasing look that makes people nervous to look him in the eye for too long. the mere idea of walking up to him and asking him for… lessons felt completely insane. humiliating. but beneath the embarrassment, a tiny, buried part of you felt a thrill that was absolutely terrifying.
“i couldn’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. “yunjin, that’s crazy. 'hey jay, can you teach me how to be good in bed so i can go sleep with your acquaintance?' he’ll laugh in my face.”
“is it crazier than stressing yourself sick over whether you’ll be good enough for jake? you're practically giving yourself an ulcer over a guy who hasn't even kissed you yet.” yunjin raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “look, you deserve to feel prepared. empowered. jay’s the guy for that, whether he's just talking to you over a drink or showing you what to do. no emotions, no drama, just practice and advice. think about it. just promise me you'll think about it.”
the conversation lingers long after yunjin finally packs up her nail polish and leaves your room, kissing your forehead goodnight and telling you to text her if you need to spiral more. you lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the name jay repeating in your head like a dare.
you lie there in the dark, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating your face in the otherwise pitch-black room. your thumb hovers precariously over the message bar, trembling slightly.
you had found jay’s contact info through a mutual friend's group chat earlier that night, your heart racing so fast you could hear it in your ears the entire time you were saving his number. now, at exactly 2:17 a.m., the sheer absurdity of the hour matches the sheer absurdity of what you're about to do. you type a sentence, delete it. type another, delete that too. you rewrite the message five times, your palms sweating against the glass screen, before you finally force your thumb to stay still and craft something that sounds at least semi-coherent.
you: hi… this is awkward but um. yunjin mentioned you might be able to help with some… lessons? about confidence and stuff. with guys. i’m really new to all of it and there’s this guy i like and i don’t want to mess it up. if you’re not interested that’s totally fine, sorry for bothering you this late.
you hit send.
the instant the little outgoing chime sounds, a wave of pure, instant regret crashes over you. you toss the phone away like it’s physically burning you, letting it land somewhere in the tangled blankets at the foot of your bed. you cover your face with both hands, groaning softly into the quiet room. this is ridiculous. it's humiliating. who even asks for something like this? jay park is going to think you're an absolute freak, or worse, he's going to screenshot it and show sunghoon.
a minute passes. then two. the silence in your room feels heavy, suffocating. you're just about to reach down and turn the phone completely off to save yourself further agony when the mattress vibrates.
buzz.
your heart leaps into your throat. you scramble through the covers, fishing for the device and unlocking it with shaking fingers.
jay: well this is a new way to get my attention. lessons, huh? for a specific guy? bold.
before you can even process the dry, teasing tone of his text, another message bubbles up right underneath it.
jay: meet me tomorrow at the café near the east library. 4pm. we can talk details. don’t overthink it too much, newbie.
your stomach flips hard, dropping into a dizzying freefall. he said yes. kind of. it’s incredibly teasing, dripping with the exact kind of effortless confidence that usually intimidates you, but it’s still a yes. he didn't laugh you off. he didn't tell you to lose his number.
you roll onto your back, dropping the phone onto your chest and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above you. the shadows from the blades cut rhythmic patterns across the ceiling, but they do nothing to soothe your mind, which is currently racing at a thousand miles an hour.
what the hell are you actually doing?
asking jay park — the campus mystery, the guy who walks through hallways like he owns them, the one with that intense, piercing stare that makes people look away first — to teach you how to flirt, how to touch, how to… god, how to do everything. and you're doing it all just so you can feel like you're enough for jake sim. the contrast between the two boys couldn't be wider: jake, with his warm, sweet, golden-retriever energy and easy smiles, and jay, who feels like a sharp knife, dark leather jackets, and expensive cologne.
but underneath the suffocating layers of panic and embarrassment, a tiny, unfamiliar spark begins to take hold. it’s a spark of excitement. of real hope. yunjin was right; you've been putting yourself through misery over your lack of experience. maybe this is exactly what you need to break out of your own head. maybe jay really can turn you into someone confident, someone desirable — someone who won’t freeze up or panic when jake finally makes a real move.
you pull the heavy blanket higher up over your shoulders, curling onto your side as your phone screen finally times out and dims, plunging the room back into total darkness.
tomorrow at 4 p.m. there's no backing out now. you're really doing this.
and as exhaustion finally starts to get to you, a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh escapes your lips into the quiet apartment.
what have you gotten yourself into?
-------
the next afternoon, 4:00 p.m. arrives far too quickly.
the café near the east library is tucked away in a quieter corner of the campus, mostly populated by grad students typing furiously on laptops and the heavy smell of roasted coffee beans. you change your outfit three times before leaving the apartment, finally settling on something casual but not too casual, your hands sweating the entire walk over.
when you push the glass door open, the little bell chiming above you feels like a death threat. you look around the dimly lit space, and there he is.
jay is sitting at a small corner table near the back window, looking entirely too calm and entirely too hot for a thursday afternoon. he’s wearing a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his dark hair is perfectly styled, just like always. he has a half-empty iced americano in front of him, his thumb casually scrolling through his phone. there’s a quiet, effortless aura of arrogance around him, but as he catches movement and looks up, his sharp features soften into a playful, lazy smirk.
“you’re exactly on time,” he says, his voice a low, smooth rumble that instantly makes your stomach do a flip. he slides the empty chair opposite him out with his foot. “sit. you look like you’re about to faint.”
you sink into the chair, gripping your tote bag tightly against your chest like a shield. “hi. thank you for coming.”
“relax, newbie. i don’t bite,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. he studies your burning, red face for a second before a soft chuckle escapes him. “you know, you could have just told me the whole story in the text. saved yourself some typing.”
you blink, confused. “what do you mean?”
jay leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a dangerous amount of amusement. “yunjin told sunghoon. sunghoon told me. so, i already know the full context.” his smirk widens, making him look devastatingly handsome. “so you want to learn how to fuck properly for jake sim? bold.”
your entire face explodes in a fierce, blinding heat. you literally feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and for a terrifying, very long second, you consider hiding under the table or running away as fast as you can. you bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled and laced with pure mortification. “oh my god. i am going to kill yunjin. i am actually going to murder her.”
jay lets out a genuine, low laugh at your reaction, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “don’t kill her yet. she’s just looking out for you. and honestly? it’s refreshing. most girls try a lot harder to play it cool around me.”
you slowly drop your hands, your cheeks still burning a bright pink. “i don't even know what i'm doing here. this is insane.”
“it’s only insane if you make it insane,” jay says calmly, his playful tone softening just a fraction into something a bit more business-like. he pushes a clean napkin and a pen toward you, though he keeps his eyes on your face. “let’s treat this like an introduction. an assessment. before we can fix anything, i need to know what we’re working with. list all the things you think you’re bad at. everything you're worried about. so i know what to focus on.”
you stare at the blank napkin, swallowing hard. the vulnerability of it feels immense, but you’re already here, and you’re already completely humiliated. you take a deep breath and start listing them off, your voice dropping to a quiet whisper so the barista won’t hear.
“flirting,” you start, counting on your fingers instead of writing it down. “i freeze up. and… kissing. i’ve only ever done clumsy high school kissing, nothing serious. touching… like, knowing where to put my hands without being awkward. sex, obviously, since i’ve never done it. and… just confidence in general. i overthink everything until i ruin the mood.”
jay listens quietly, his sharp eyes tracking the movement of your fingers. he doesn't laugh, and he doesn't tease you this time. he just nods slowly, absorbing the information.
“okay. that’s a solid list,” he says. then, his gaze drops to how tightly you’re still clutching your bag, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense and pulled high. his eyes lift back to yours, perceptive and sharp. “you’re terrified i’m going to try to jump you, aren’t you?”
your breath hitches. you open your mouth to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. you are skeptical about getting physical with him. the idea of practicing on jay park feels like playing with fire, and you’re fully aware you might get burned.
jay sighs softly, leaning back again, his posture completely relaxed to contrast your tension. “look at me.”
you look up, meeting his intense stare.
“yunjin told you i have a reputation, and she’s right. i’m not going to sit here and pretend i’m a saint,” jay says, his tone completely direct, peer-to-peer, without a shred of judgment. “but i don’t do anything without absolute consent. i can see you’re stressed out of your mind right now. so, let’s take the pressure off. we are not getting physical. the ‘lessons’ will be entirely theoretical. just talking, advice, breaking down how guys think, and giving you the blueprint. unless you explicitly ask to change that later down the line, we keep our hands to ourselves. deal?”
the relief that washes over you is so sudden and heavy that your shoulders visibly drop. “deal. thank you. seriously.”
“don’t thank me yet, newbie. you’re still going to have to work on that confidence,” jay says, that familiar, teasing grin creeping back onto his face. he stands up, grabbing his iced coffee and sliding his phone into his pocket. “we’re done for today. meet me at my dorm tomorrow afternoon. third floor of the west quad, room 314. we’ll start the actual work then.”
he gives you one last, lingering look — a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read — before turning and walking out of the café, leaving you alone at the table with a racing heart and the sudden realization that you’re actually going through with this.
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself standing outside room 314 in the west quad, your heart doing gymnastics against your ribs. you take three deep, stabilizing breaths before finally raising a shaking hand to knock.
the door swings open almost immediately, and jay stands there looking effortlessly put-together in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. his hair is slightly messy today, falling over his forehead, which somehow makes him look even more intimidatingly handsome.
“you’re on time again. i like that,” he says, stepping back to let you in.
his dorm is surprisingly clean and smells faintly of sandalwood and expensive laundry detergent. there’s a vinyl player in the corner, a desk stacked with textbooks, and a neatly made bed. jay walks over to his desk chair, spins it around to face the bed, and motions for you to sit on the mattress.
“alright, newbie. welcome to lesson one,” jay says, his tone shifting into something surprisingly focused. he sits down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “today is all about the fundamentals. eye contact, body language, and light teasing. if you can't master the tension before you even touch a guy, everything else falls flat. so, we start here.”
you nod, swallowing hard, trying to look like a good student. “okay. what do i do?”
“first thing: eye contact,” jay says, leaning forward slightly. his dark eyes lock onto yours, intense and unblinking. “when you’re talking to jake, you have a habit of looking down at your shoes or glancing away every three seconds. it makes you look like you’re guilty of a crime. i want you to hold my gaze. don’t look away until i do.”
you brace yourself and look straight into his eyes. one second passes. then two. the sheer intensity of his stare feels like a physical weight in the room. by second four, your heart is pounding, your throat feels dry, and your eyes instinctively dart toward the window.
jay lets out a soft, amused scoff. “four seconds. tragic. again.”
you lock eyes with him again, biting the inside of your cheek. this time, you manage to hold it, but you can feel your face flushing a bright, furious pink.
jay watches the blush spread across your cheeks, a slow, lazy half-smile spreading across his face. he’s clearly enjoying how easily he can fluster you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “you’re cute when you’re panicking, you know that? but you need to relax your shoulders. you look like a statue.”
“it’s hard,” you complain, your voice a little high. “you’re staring at me like a hawk.”
“jake is going to stare at you too, newbie. you need to get used to it,” jay teases, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin. “alright, let’s move on to flirting and light teasing. pretend i’m jake. we’re at a party, i just walked up to you, and i say, ‘hey, i like your outfit.’ how do you respond?”
you clear your throat, trying to channel every romantic comedy you’ve ever watched. you try to mimic the slow, confident smirk jay always uses, but your lips twitch awkwardly.
“oh, this old thing?” you say, your voice dripping with a completely unnatural, overly dramatic theatricality. you even throw in a bizarre little hair flip that feels entirely forced. “thanks. i guess you don’t look too bad yourself.”
the room goes completely silent.
jay just stares at you for three long seconds, his expression an unbelievable mix of utter disbelief and pure, unadulterated amusement. then, he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him.
“oh my god,” jay groans, looking up at you with tears of laughter in his eyes. “that was… easily the worst thing i have ever heard in my entire life.”
“hey!” you yell, grabbing a stray pillow from his bed and throwing it at his chest. your face is practically purple with embarrassment. “i told you i was bad at this!”
jay catches the pillow effortlessly, still laughing. “bad? newbie, that wasn’t just bad. that was completely goofy. you sounded like a cartoon villain trying to seduce a detective. and what was that hair flip? did you have a muscle spasm?”
“stop laughing at me!” you hide your face in your hands, completely mortified. “this was a mistake. i’m leaving.”
“no, stay, sit down,” jay says, his laughter finally dying down into a wide, bright grin. he tosses the pillow back onto the bed and leans in closer, his voice dropping into a softer, playful murmur. “i'm sorry, i shouldn't laugh. it was honestly kind of endearing. but we definitely have our work cut out for us.”
you peek through your fingers at him, pouty and defensive. “fine. how am i supposed to say it, mr. expert?”
jay shifts in his chair, his entire demeanor changing in a split second. the laughter vanishes, replaced by a smooth, magnetic confidence that makes your breath hitch. he looks at you, his eyes dropping to your lips for a microsecond before rising back to your eyes. a small, knowing grin plays at the corner of his mouth.
“if i say ‘i like your outfit,’ you don’t act like a theater kid,” jay says softly, his voice a low, teasing purr that makes goosebumps break out on your arms. “you look him right in the eye, hold it for a second, smile just a little bit, and say… ‘thanks. i wore it hoping you’d notice.’”
you stare at him, your mouth slightly open, completely paralyzed by how smoothly he delivered the line. the air in the dorm suddenly feels incredibly thick, the playful atmosphere from a second ago completely evaporating into something heavy and charged.
jay holds your gaze for a beat longer, making sure the lesson lands, before breaking the tension with a quiet chuckle. he taps his fingers against his knee, leaning back in his chair. “see the difference? subtle. playful. now, let’s try it again. and this time, keep your hair exactly where it is.”
you swallow the lump in your throat, trying desperately to shake off the weird shiver that just ran down your spine. he’s just demonstrating, you remind yourself. he does this for fun.
“okay,” you mutter, pulling your knees up to your chest on his bed and trying to center yourself. “subtle. no theater-kid energy. got it.”
“alright. take two,” jay says, his expression shifting back into that smooth, predatory calm. he locks his eyes onto yours. “hey. i like your outfit.”
you force yourself not to look away. you look at his dark eyes, then let your gaze drop slightly to his lips — just like he did — before looking back up. you attempt a small, knowing smile, though your heart is hammering against your ribs.
“thanks,” you say, your voice a little softer than usual, a little more genuine. “i wore it hoping you’d notice.”
jay doesn't laugh this time. he stays perfectly still, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your bottom lip. for a second, his grin falters, replaced by a sharp, intense curiosity that makes your stomach do a violent flip. then, the lazy crooked smile creeps back onto his face, and he nods approvingly.
“better,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “way better. see? you don’t need to put on a performance. guys like jake — and guys like me — we can tell when a girl is trying too hard. authenticity is hotter than any script you could write. you just have to let yourself feel the tension instead of running away from it.”
the rest of the hour goes by in a blur of intense eye contact and brutal, playful critiques. jay puts you through a dozen different scenarios. he teaches you how to respond to a compliment without deflecting it, how to use a quiet pause in conversation to your advantage, and how a simple change in posture can make you look completely magnetic.
he doesn't miss a single chance to tease you, though. every time you stumble over your words or give a goofy response, he boops your nose with his pen or groans dramatically into his hands. but by the time the alarm on his phone buzzes to signal the end of the hour, you realize something shocking: you aren’t so uncomfortable anymore. you’re actually laughing with him.
“alright, session one complete,” jay says, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, pulling his hoodie up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. you quickly look away, your face heating up again. he catches you, of course, and just smirks. “homework for tonight: practice looking people in the eye. the cashier at the dining hall, your professors, yunjin. don’t look down.”
“fine, professor park,” you roll your eyes, sliding off his bed and grabbing your bag. “thanks. for not totally giving up on me.”
“i don't give up on my projects, newbie,” he says, walking you to the door. he opens it, leaning against the frame and looking down at you with a soft, surprisingly warm expression. “see you in two days. don't overthink it.”
“i'll try,” you murmur, giving him a small wave before turning and walking down the hallway.
the walk back to your apartment is a long one, and the cool evening air does nothing to calm the frantic state of your brain. you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, your sneakers clicking rhythmically against the pavement as you re-read every single moment of the last hour in your head.
your mind is a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts.
first of all, jay was right. the theoretical approach did help. just understanding the mechanics of how to hold a gaze and how to drop your voice made you feel like a secret weapon was being built inside you. you find yourself imagining using those exact tricks on jake next tuesday at the café. you imagine looking jake in the eye, holding his gaze, and saying something subtle and confident. the thought makes your stomach flutter with a nervous, happy anticipation. it’s exactly what you wanted.
but as you cross the street near the campus green, another thought creeps in, unbidden and entirely unwelcome.
jay.
you pull a breath into your lungs, a strange, tight feeling in your chest. you had gone into that room completely terrified of him, expecting a cold, arrogant guy who would judge your total lack of experience. instead, he had been… patient. incredibly observant. and so frustratingly attractive that it felt like a safety hazard.
when he had delivered that line — i wore it hoping you’d notice — the look in his eyes hadn't felt like a lesson at all. it had felt entirely too real. the way his voice had dropped, the way he had effortlessly controlled the energy in the room… it was terrifying how easily he could manipulate your feelings with just a shift in his posture.
he’s a professional, you remind yourself sternly, walking up the steps to your apartment building. he has a reputation for a reason. he’s doing this to help you with jake. do not confuse the lines.
yet, as you unlock your front door and hear yunjin yelling something from the kitchen, you can’t shake the memory of jay’s lazy, knowing smirk from your mind. you had spent weeks stressing yourself sick over jake sim, but as you step into your apartment, you realize with a sudden wave of panic that learning how to play the game with jay park might be a hundred times more dangerous.
-------
two days later, you find yourself back outside room 314. you don't even need to take three deep breaths this time — only two.
when jay opens the door, he’s wearing a faded vintage band tee and dark jeans, looking like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still managed to look effortlessly attractive. he takes one look at your face, steps back to let you in, and closes the door with a quiet click.
“welcome back, newbie,” he says, a lazy grin already spreading across his face. “did you do your homework? did you look the dining hall lady in the eye, or did you stare at your tater tots again?”
“i looked her straight in the eye,” you say proudly, tossing your tote bag onto his desk chair. “she looked confused, but i didn’t look down once.”
“proud of you,” jay chuckles, walking over to his mini-fridge to grab a bottle of water. he takes a sip before turning his full attention to you, his eyes sweeping over your outfit before locking onto yours. “alright, today is lesson two. we’re graduating from eye contact. today is all about compliments, voice tone, and what i like to call ‘innocent’ touching. leaning in, brushing an arm, breaking the physical barrier without making it a big deal. ready?”
you nod, though your stomach does a familiar little nervous flip. “ready.”
“good. sit on the bed,” jay commands smoothly, pulling his desk chair over so he’s sitting directly across from you again, only this time, he hitches the chair closer. his knees are barely a few inches from yours. the proximity alone makes the air feel instantly thick. “let’s start with compliments and tone. a lot of girls think giving a compliment means squealing and saying ‘oh my god your hair looks so good today!’ that’s friend-zone energy. jake doesn't need another cheerleader. he needs to know you see him as a man. understand?”
“yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard.
“so, voice tone is everything. drop your volume. speak from your chest, not your throat. make him lean in to hear you,” jay instructs, his own voice dropping into that low, gravelly pitch that makes your ears tingle. “let’s try it. i walk up to you. i’m jake. i’m wearing a nice cologne. compliment me.”
you take a second to clear your throat, trying to channel your inner siren. you lean forward slightly, look him in the eye, and speak in what you think is a sultry whisper. “wow, jay. you smell really… nice. like a tree.”
jay blinks. the room is dead silent for three seconds.
then, he lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, burying his face in his hands. “like a tree? like a tree? oh my god, newbie, please tell me you’re joking.”
“it’s sandalwood!” you protest, your face instantly turning a furious shade of crimson as you grab his pillow again, though this time he anticipates it and firmly plants a hand on it before you can throw it. “you literally smell like sandalwood and cedar! that’s a tree!”
“you sound like a park ranger,” jay groans, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pulls the pillow out of your hands. “and your voice went all breathy and weird at the end, like you were running out of oxygen. i said drop your pitch, not sound like you have asthma.”
“i told you i’m bad at this!” you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. “this is why i’m a virgin, jay. i have negative game.”
“hey, look at me,” jay says, his voice softening, though the vibrant amusement is still dancing in his dark eyes. he gently reaches out and taps your wrist until you drop your hands from your face. “it’s fine. that’s why you’re here. let’s try it again, but don’t think about the specific words. don’t describe the scent. just focus on how it makes you feel. and keep the voice steady. smooth. try it.”
you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. you wait a beat, letting the silence stretch just like he taught you in lesson one. then, keeping your voice low and stable, you say, “you smell really good today. it’s distracting.”
jay pauses. his smirk falters for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening just a tiny bit as he processes the delivery. a slow, appreciative smile replaces his laughter. “there we go. that’s the tone. smooth, grounded, a little bit dangerous. jake would literally lose his mind if you said that to him.”
a rush of pride swells in your chest. you actually did it.
“alright, now let’s add the physical element,” jay says, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “innocent touching is all about making it look accidental. it has to look accidental, but feel intentional. a brush of the shoulder when you laugh, a lingering touch on the arm when you’re emphasizing a point. it makes the moments stick, you know? let’s combine them. give me that same compliment, but this time, i want you to break the physical barrier.”
your heart restarts its frantic rhythm. touching him wasn’t part of the original plan, but this is entirely safe — just an arm, just a shoulder. theoretical practice in action.
“okay,” you whisper.
you look at him. you focus on your breathing, trying to get rid of the tension in your shoulders. you lean in slightly, your eyes dropping to his lips before rising back to his eyes. you reach your hand out, your fingers trembling just a fraction, and gently brush your fingertips against his forearm, letting them linger on the soft fabric of his sleeve.
“you smell really good today,” you say softly, your voice perfectly steady this time. “it’s distracting.”
you expect jay to pull back, or to laugh, or to give you another critique. instead, jay doesn't even flinch. he doesn't get nervous at all; if anything, the touch seems to ground him. his eyes track your hand on his arm, and then slowly, deliberately, he tilts his head, a devastatingly handsome, wicked grin pulling at his lips.
he doesn't break your touch. instead, he leans forward, bringing his face so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.
“is it?” jay murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, completely turning the tables on you. “if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie… you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.”
your breath hitches completely. your heart thumps so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. he’s completely unbothered, completely in control, flirting back with an effortless grace that leaves you completely breathless.
“you… you cheated,” you squeak out, frantically pulling your hand back and sitting straight up, your face hot enough to fry an egg. “you’re not supposed to flirt back! you’re supposed to be jake!”
jay lets out a low, rich chuckle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking immensely pleased with himself. “jake is going to flirt back, newbie. if a girl touched him like that and gave him that compliment, he wouldn't just sit there like a log. he’s going to lean in. you need to learn how to handle the counter-attack.”
you pout, crossing your arms defensively. “you’re just showing off.”
“maybe a little,” he admits, his eyes crinkling with that playful, arrogant charm. “but you did great. seriously. the touch was perfect — light, lingering, just enough to make a guy notice. let’s try another one. this time, let’s practice the ‘laugh and lean.’ when i say something funny, you lean in, laugh naturally, and let your shoulder brush mine. let’s see if you can handle it without panicking.”
for the next hour, the room feels like a battlefield of tension and laughter. you practice over and over again. you try leaning in to whisper something “secretive” in his ear, your breath brushing against his neck, which makes jay’s jaw tighten for a brief second before he recovers with a smooth, teasing remark. you practice brushing a stray piece of lint off his shoulder, letting your fingers drag slowly down his chest.
every time you do it well, jay praises you, his voice warm and encouraging, but he never lets you get too comfortable. he always pushes back — catching your wrist gently, leaning into your space, or dropping a low, dangerous compliment right back to test your boundaries. he doesn't get flustered, but you notice that as the lesson goes on, his jokes get a little quieter, his smirks a little softer, and his dark eyes stay locked onto yours with an intensity that makes it harder and harder to remember that this is just a game.
“alright,” jay finally says, his voice a bit rough as he checks his phone. “that’s enough torturing you for one day.”
you sink back against his pillows, completely exhausted but tingling with a weird, electric energy. “i think i actually did okay today.”
“you did better than okay,” jay says, standing up and looking down at you. he reaches out, and for a second, you think he’s going to tease you again, but instead, he gently runs his thumb over the side of your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture that makes your heart stop. “you’re a quick learner, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he pulls his hand back smoothly, leaving your skin tingling where his thumb had just been. he walks to the door, opening it with that signature, lazy smirk.
“go home, get some rest. next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics. try not to lose sleep over it.”
you scramble off the bed, grabbing your bag and practically running past him into the hallway, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm as his quiet laughter follows you down the corridor.
the next monday, you’re sitting in the back row of your lecture hall, pretending to take notes on a PowerPoint about microeconomics. in reality, you’ve just been drawing mindless spirals in the margin of your notebook, your brain completely occupied by the memory of jay’s thumb brushing against your cheek.
“next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics.”
the memory of his low, rough voice echoes in your head, making you shiver despite the aggressive air conditioning in the auditorium.
suddenly, a sharp elbow digs into your ribs.
“you’re doing a new thing,” yunjin whispers loudly, leaning over the shared desk. she has her laptop open, but instead of notes, she has a blank word document filled with a massive, stylized question mark. “the ‘staring into the abyss like you’re trying to decode the matrix’ thing. spill. now.”
“shh,” you hiss, keeping your eyes glued to the professor. “we’re in the middle of class.”
“the professor is seventy-five and doesn’t have his hearing aids turned up, babe. talk,” yunjin demands, sliding her chair a microscopic inch closer to yours. her eyes narrow, her strawberry lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights as she tilts her head. “it’s been days. you’ve been acting weirdly quiet, you didn’t spiral once this weekend, and you’ve been practicing weirdly intense eye contact with the barista at the campus cafe. which means… the lessons started. how is jay park?”
your face immediately flares up, the heat rising rapidly from your neck to your cheeks. you grab your highlighter and aggressively color over a random definition on your paper. “it’s fine. it’s going fine.”
“‘it’s fine’ does not make a girl turn the color of a fire hydrant,” yunjin points out, a massive, predatory grin spreading across her face. she leans in so close her coconut-scented hair brushes your shoulder. “oh my god. did you guys do it? did he break his rule? did you break the no-fucking clause already? details, give me details!”
“no! oh my god, no!” you whisper-yell, frantically looking around to see if any of the athletes in the row ahead of you heard. luckily, they’re all asleep. you drop your voice to a desperate, tiny whisper. “we didn’t do anything. i told you, it’s completely theoretical. he promised.”
“okay, okay, keeping it professional. i respect it,” yunjin says, waving a dismissive hand, though her eyes are still dancing with intense curiosity. “so what exactly happens in a ‘theoretical’ sex lesson with jay park? does he use a whiteboard? powerpoint slides?”
“no,” you mumble, hiding the lower half of your face behind your hand. “he… we just sit in his dorm. he makes me practice scenarios. the first lesson was just eye contact and light teasing. he basically told me i have the flirting skills of a cartoon villain.”
yunjin bursts out into a short, choked laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve when the professor coughs. “i mean, he’s not wrong, babe. remember freshman year when you tried to wink at that guy on the club team and looked like you were having a neurological event?”
“i’m better now!” you defend yourself, your voice tight. “jay fixed it. well, he’s fixing it. we had lesson two a couple days ago.”
yunjin leans in even closer, her notebook completely forgotten. “and? what was lesson two?”
“compliments. voice tone. and… innocent touching,” you whisper, your chest tightening just thinking about it. “like, leaning in and brushing his arm. or laughing and letting our shoulders touch.”
yunjin’s jaw literally drops. she stares at you, her eyes wide. “wait. you touched jay park? the guy who usually looks like he’ll have you legally removed from his presence if you breathe his oxygen? how did he react? did he flinch?”
“no, that’s the thing,” you groan, burying your face in your notebook for a second before looking back at her miserably. “he didn't flinch at all. yunjin, he’s completely immune to me. when i gave him the compliment and touched his arm, i thought i did a really good job. i dropped my voice, i held his gaze, all of it. but then he just… he didn't even blink. he just leaned all the way into my face and flirted back. he said something like, ‘if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie, you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.’”
yunjin lets out a low, silent gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “oh my god. newbie? he calls you newbie? that is so disgustingly hot, i think i’m going to throw up.”
“it’s not hot, it’s terrifying!” you whined, chewing on the cap of your pen. “he is so effortlessly in control of the room. every time i think i’m getting the hang of it, he just raises the stakes to test if i’ll panic. he spent the whole hour praising me when i did it right, but then he'd immediately counter-attack to show me how a guy would react. by the end of it, my heart was beating so hard i thought i was going to pass out.”
yunjin studies your face, her playful demeanor shifting into something a bit more analytical, a small, knowing grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “and what about jake? are you thinking about jake when you’re doing all this?”
the question catches you completely off guard. you pause, your pen hovering over the paper.
“i… yeah,” you say, though the answer feels a little delayed, a little less certain than it should be. “of course i am. the whole point of this is so i don’t ruin things with jake. i keep imagining using the tricks on him.”
“right. of course,” yunjin says softly, though the look she gives you is incredibly perceptive. she taps her chin. “so, what’s next on the syllabus, student of the year?”
you swallow hard, the bell suddenly ringing to signal the end of the lecture. you pack your laptop into your bag with slightly trembling hands, refusing to look yunjin in the eye as you mutter the final detail.
“kissing mechanics. we’re doing kissing next.”
yunjin pauses mid-stride as you both walk out into the crowded hallway, a massive, thrilled grin spreading across her face. “oh, babe. you are playing with actual fireworks. good luck surviving that one.”
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself walking back up the stairs of the west quad. your nerves are completely fried, mostly because yunjin’s warning about "playing with fireworks" has been looping in your brain for the last twenty-four hours. kissing mechanics. the words alone make your pulse skyrocket.
when jay opens the door to room 314, he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and charcoal grey cargo pants. he looks you up and down, a faint, amused smile lingering on his lips. "come on in, newbie."
you step into the familiar, sandalwood-scented space and immediately drop your bag by his desk, hopping onto the edge of his bed. before he can even sit down in his usual chair, the words start spilling out of your mouth in an anxious rush.
"okay, so something happened," you blurts out, waving your hands around. "jake came up to me yesterday at the student union. he was wearing his soccer jersey and he literally leaned against my locker and told me my hair looked pretty."
jay pauses, capping his water bottle and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "and? did you use the eye contact?"
"yes! i held his gaze for like, five whole seconds," you say proudly, leaning forward. "and then i tried to do the subtle, playful voice thing you taught me. i looked at his jersey and said, 'thanks, you don't look too bad yourself.' but jay, the second the words left my mouth, i panicked. i got so incredibly awkward. i think my shoulders went up to my ears, and i literally backed into the locker door so hard it made a loud clanging sound."
jay stares at you for a beat, and then he breaks. he covers his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him. "you backed into a locker? newbie, please tell me you didn't."
"i did!" you groan, burying your face in his pillows. "it was terrible. but… the weird part is, it might not have ruined everything? he’s been texting me literally all day today. look."
you scramble to pull out your phone, unlocking it and flashing the screen at him. there’s a string of text messages from jake, filled with emojis and casual questions about your week.
jay steps closer, leaning down slightly to look at the screen. his eyes scan the notifications, and a low, thoughtful hum hums in his throat. he straightens back up, crossing his arms over his chest, his playful smirk turning into a highly analytical expression.
"okay, first of all, the text volume is good. he's definitely hooked," jay says, tilting his head. "but based on your little locker incident, i'm officially changing the syllabus for today."
you peek up from the pillow. "wait, what? aren't we doing kissing mechanics today?"
"absolutely not," jay says smoothly, a wicked, completely teasing grin spreading across his sharp features. "no offense, newbie, but if you're still crashing into structural steel because a guy complimented your hair, you are legally not ready for the kissing lesson. you'd probably faint on him."
"hey!" you protest, sitting straight up and kicking your legs out, though you can't help the blush spreading across your face. "i was just caught off guard!"
"exactly. which is why we need to build your confidence up through texts and pictures first," jay says, walking over to his closet and leaning his shoulder against the frame. "given how much he's texting you right now, it’s the perfect opportunity. so, lesson three: how to dress sexier, body language upkeep, and sending suggestive texts and photos."
your jaw drops. "photos? like… selfies?"
"relax, i don't mean nudes," jay scoffs playfully, rolling his eyes. "i mean the kind of photos that make a guy stare at his phone for ten minutes straight. subtle hints. showing off your collarbone, an arched back, a casual half-smile. the kind of stuff that says 'i'm not trying,' even though you absolutely are."
he walks over to your bag and picks it up, tossing it onto the bed next to you. "dump it out. let’s see what clothes you brought today, and then we're going to fix your text game."
for the next hour, jay takes his role entirely too seriously. he makes you stand up to practice your posture — forcing your shoulders down, teaching you how to subtly arch your back when you're sitting so your silhouette looks sharper, and showing you how to cross your legs to elongate your frame.
then comes the text interrogation. he sits right next to you on the bed, his shoulder pressing against yours, looking over your screen as you type.
"no, delete that exclamation point. it makes you sound too eager," jay commands, his thumb reaching over to tap your screen. "type this instead: 'busy right now, but i might have time for you later.' it creates mystery. it makes him want to compete for your attention."
"isn't that a little mean?" you ask, looking up at him.
"it's not mean, it's a hook," jay murmurs, his dark eyes fixed on yours from mere inches away. "trust me. watch how fast he replies."
you hit send. less than thirty seconds later, jake replies: 'what are you up to? let me know when you're free x'.
you stare at the screen in absolute shock. "oh my god. you're a wizard."
"i'm a guy. i know how our brains work," jay smirks, entirely pleased with himself. "now, let's seal the deal. we're sending a photo. stand up."
you get up, your heart doing a nervous dance as jay picks up your phone. he walks you over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door, positioning you just right where the warm afternoon light hits your face.
"your sweater is too high. pull it slightly off one shoulder," jay instructs, his voice dropping into that focused, professional tone.
you hesitantly tug the knit fabric down, exposing your collarbone. jay steps behind you, looking at your reflection in the mirror. he frowns slightly, stepping closer until his chest is almost pressed against your back. he reaches out, his warm, large hands gently gripping your waist to adjust your posture, tilting your hips just a fraction.
"don't look directly at the camera like a deer in headlights," jay murmurs near your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "look slightly down, tilt your chin up. think about something that makes you feel good."
your whole body feels like it's on fire from his touch. your reflection in the mirror shows your cheeks flushed a deep pink, your eyes dark and wide. jay raises your phone, snapping a few photos. he pulls away smoothly, scrolling through the gallery before handing the phone back to you.
you look at the screen and literally gasp. the photo doesn't even look like you. it looks incredibly soft, effortless, and undeniably sexy. your collarbone stands out, your lips are slightly parted, and the flush on your cheeks looks intentional.
"send him that one," jay says, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms, watching your reaction with an intensely satisfied smirk. "and don't add a caption. just let him suffer."
you hit send, your hands shaking. almost instantly, the typing bubbles appear from jake's contact.
they bounce up and down, then disappear, then start up again. jake is clearly panicking on the other end, deleting and rewriting his response just like you had done nights ago.
jay steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to look down at the screen. his chest gently brushes your back, the warm, clean scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloping you completely. “look at that,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble right next to your ear. “he’s losing his mind. i told you.”
finally, the text comes through.
jake: oh wow. you look really pretty. where are you?
you automatically start typing a reply, your fingers flying across the keyboard. i’m just hanging out at a friend’s dorm.
“stop, stop, stop,” jay says, his hand suddenly coming down over yours to physically halt your thumbs. his palms are warm and broad, completely wrapping around your hands. a jolt of electricity zaps straight up your arms. he doesn't pull away immediately; instead, he slowly guides your hands down, forcing you to lower the phone. “what did i say about theater-kid energy? you’re giving away too much information, newbie. you’re killing the mystery.”
“but he asked where i am!” you protest, looking up at him over your shoulder. your faces are incredibly close, so close you can count the dark lashes framing his piercing eyes.
jay just smiles, that slow, devastatingly confident grin that makes him look entirely too in control. he reaches out and smoothly takes the phone right out of your fingers. “he doesn’t get to know where you are. he didn't earn that yet. right now, he’s sitting in his room staring at a photo of your bare shoulder. we need to lean into that.”
he taps the screen, typing out a message with one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. “if he asks where you are, you don’t give him a location. you give him a tease.”
he turns the phone around to show you what he wrote.
you: somewhere you’re not. 😉
your jaw drops. “jay! that is so forward! i can't say that!”
“you didn't say it, i did. now watch,” he says, tapping send before you can grab the device back.
you watch the screen in an agony of suspense. the response from jake is almost instantaneous this time.
jake: that’s not fair. maybe i want to be there.
your breath hitches. jake has never talked to you like this before. usually, his texts are sweet, casual, and safe. jay’s little formula is completely shifting the dynamic, turning a simple crush into a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.
“see?” jay says, his tone dripping with playful smugness as he slides the phone back into your hands. he leans his hip against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and looking down at you. “he’s chasing now. when a guy says ‘maybe i want to be there,’ he’s testing the waters. he wants to see if the door is open. so, what do you do?”
“i… i tell him he can come over?” you guess, completely out of your depth.
jay groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “no! god, newbie, you’re trying to speed-run this. if you invite him over now, you’re giving up all your power. you have to make him work for it. keep him on his toes.”
he steps back into your personal space, the playful arrogance in his eyes shifting into something focused and instructional. he grabs your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look directly into his dark eyes.
“this is the suggestive texting masterclass,” jay explains softly, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitive skin of your jawline. “you always want to imply a double meaning. you want him to read your texts and wonder if you’re being totally innocent or incredibly dirty. it keeps his mind completely occupied with thoughts of you.”
he lets go of your chin, but the ghost of his touch leaves a burning trail on your skin. he points at your phone. “type this: ‘i don’t know, jake. i’m kind of a handful. not sure you could handle it.’”
your fingers are practically sweating as you type out the words exactly as he dictated. you hit send.
the typing bubbles appear immediately.
jake: try me. i’m pretty good at handling things.
you let out a soft, choked gasp, completely floored by the sheer boldness of jake's reply. your face is burning hot, your heart hammering against your ribs. you look up at jay, wide-eyed and completely breathless. “oh my god. it worked. it actually worked.”
jay doesn't look surprised at all. if anything, he’s studying your reaction with an intense, quiet curiosity. his eyes drop to your flushed cheeks, then down to your parted lips, before slowly rising back to meet your gaze. the playful, teasing smirk slowly fades from his face, replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression.
“of course it worked,” jay murmurs, his voice suddenly dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. he steps a fraction closer, completely erasing the distance between you until your clothes are almost brushing. “you’re a beautiful girl, newbie. when you actually give a guy a green light, he’s going to run straight through it.”
the air in the dorm room becomes completely stagnant, thick with a sudden, suffocating wave of tension. jay is looking at you with an intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his gaze feels heavy, physical, like a hand tracing the curve of your neck. for a terrifying, thrilling second, you forget all about your phone, all about jake’s texts, and all about the rules of these lessons.
you stare up at him, your heart in your throat, completely paralyzed by how easily he can shift the gravity in the room.
jay holds your gaze for one more lingering, breathless second. then, just as quickly as it appeared, the heavy tension snaps. a lazy, familiar smirk creeps back onto his sharp features, and he steps back, breaking the spell.
“alright, lock your phone,” jay says, tapping the top of your head playfully. “that’s enough digital damage for today. leave him on read for a few hours. let him stew in his own thoughts while he waits for you to reply.”
you quickly lock your screen, nodding dumbly as you try to force your lungs to remember how to breathe normally.
“lesson three concluded,” jay says, walking over to the door and swinging it open, looking entirely unbothered by the emotional hurricane he just caused in your chest. he gives you a sharp, teasing wink. “next time, newbie… we’re finally doing kissing mechanics. don’t forget to practice your posture before then.”
-------
four days pass, and your life feels like it has been completely split into two entirely different realities.
on one side of the screen, there’s the jake sim reality. and to your absolute shock, jay’s blueprint is working flawlessly. jake has been pursuing you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. when you see him on campus now, he doesn't just give you a sweet, friendly wave from across the quad. he actively detours to walk with you to class. when you talk, his eyes don't wander; they stay locked onto your face, and he looks at you with this intense, focused hunger that makes your stomach do backflips.
last night, he texted you out of nowhere at 11:00 p.m. just to say he saw a sweater in a store window that reminded him of the photo you sent, adding a little tongue-in-cheek comment about how he's still waiting to find out where "somewhere you're not" is.
it's everything you wanted. you're finally getting the boy you’ve been pining over since freshman orientation. you should be ecstatic. you should be texting yunjin in a flurry of capital letters and celebratory emojis.
but instead, you find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dead of night, feeling completely untethered.
the truth is a terrifying, heavy weight in your chest, and admitting it to yourself feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. because every time jake texts you, a tiny, dark voice in the back of your mind whispers that it isn’t actually your game he’s falling for. it’s jay’s. you’re just the actress reciting lines written by a boy who understands the mechanics of desire like the back of his hand.
and then there's the next lesson.
kissing mechanics.
your stomach drops into a cold abyss every time you think about it. you’re terrified. actual, physical kissing is a universe away from just holding eye contact or letting your shoulders brush during a laugh. it means jay’s hands on you. it means his face inches from yours, his lips touching yours, his sharp jawline, his heavy, low breathing. even if it’s entirely "theoretical" — even if he's just using his fingers to map out where to press or demonstrating the pacing on a pillow or explaining the biology of how a guy reacts — the mere thought of being that close to him makes your chest tighten until it hurts.
but beneath the suffocating layers of panic, there is an even darker, more humiliating truth that you barely have the courage to acknowledge in the privacy of your own head.
you were disappointed.
when you walked into room 314 a few days ago, fully braced for the kissing lesson, your heart had been pounding because you thought you were finally going to cross that terrifying physical threshold with him. and when jay had laughed, called you a newbie, and casually pushed the lesson back because you "weren't ready," a sudden, sharp pang of rejection had sliced right through you.
you had spent the rest of that afternoon acting annoyed and pouty, but deep down, your skin had been practically begging for the exact thing you claimed to be afraid of. you had wanted him to look at you and decide you were ready. you had wanted to know what his lips felt like, even if it was just a clinical demonstration.
it's a dangerous, toxic thought. jay is your tutor. he’s sunghoon’s best friend, a guy known for his selective, zero-strings-attached reputation, and he is actively helping you construct a trap to catch jake. confusing your feelings now would be absolute social suicide. it would ruin everything.
you roll onto your side, pulling your blanket tightly around your shoulders as you look at your phone. tomorrow afternoon is the day. there are no more text modules left to practice. no more posture corrections or wardrobe updates.
tomorrow, you have to look jay park in the eye and let him teach you how to kiss.
and as you close your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, you realize with a jolt of pure panic that you aren't sure which reality you're more afraid of anymore: the one where you finally kiss jake sim, or the one where you have to watch jay pull away from you when the lesson is over.
-------
the rain is drumming a steady rhythm against the glass of room 314 when you walk in. the afternoon light is weak, casting the dorm in a hazy, intimate shadow that immediately makes your throat feel dry. jay is sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs spread, hands loosely clasped between his knees. he’s wearing a soft, oversized gray crewneck sweater, looking entirely relaxed, while your nerves are stretched so tight they’re practically screaming.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says, his voice softer than usual, matching the quiet hum of the rain. he tracks your movement as you set your bag down, his eyes lingering on your tense shoulders. “you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”
“i’m just… anticipating,” you mumble, sitting on the opposite end of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.
jay watches you for a beat, a faint, understanding smile touching his lips. “right. lesson four. kissing mechanics.” he shifts, leaning back against his headboard, his expression turning professional, though his dark eyes retain that sharp, observant glint. “before we start, a reminder of the rules. we agreed on a strict blueprint. entirely theoretical. no physical interaction. i’m here to give you the breakdown so you can take it to jake. clear?”
“clear,” you say. you try to sound relieved. you try to make your voice bright and cooperative. but a small, involuntary drop in your tone betrays you, a tiny hesitation that doesn’t escape his notice. a sudden, heavy wave of disappointment washes through you, sharp and humiliating, and you hate yourself for feeling it. you should be grateful for the boundary, but your skin feels suddenly cold.
jay’s eyes narrow slightly, analyzing the split-second change in your expression, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“alright. let’s break down the mechanics,” jay begins, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always makes your pulse spike. “kissing isn’t just about the lips, newbie. if you just dive in, it’s clumsy. it starts with the pacing. when jake leans in, you don’t rush to meet him halfway. you let him do the work. you tilt your chin up, keep your lips slightly parted — just a fraction — and breathe out softly. it signals invitation.”
you nod, trying to memorize the words, but your brain is panicking because jay is demonstrating the head tilt himself, his sharp jawline defining itself in the dim amber light of his desk lamp.
“when the actual contact happens, you start slow,” jay continues, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels almost physical. “it’s a gentle pressure. one lip tucked between his. you hold it for a beat, let the warmth build, and then you shift. it’s a rhythm. you use your hands — remember lesson two? — you let your fingers rest right on the side of his neck, just below the jaw. your thumb rests on his cheekstone. it stabilizes the movement, and it drives a guy absolutely crazy because it feels grounding.”
as he speaks, jay mimics the hand placement in the air, his long, elegant fingers moving with a slow grace that makes you track them like a hawk. the air in the room is growing increasingly thick, the space between you on the mattress suddenly feeling incredibly small.
“now,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “let’s practice the approach. the build-up of tension right before the lips touch is fifty percent of the kiss. if you panic there, the whole thing is ruined.”
he slides down the mattress, closing the distance between you until he’s sitting cross-legged directly in front of you. your knees are practically brushing.
“i’m going to act as if i’m going to kiss you,” jay instructs softly, his playful arrogance completely gone, replaced by a quiet, suffocating gravity. “i’m going to get close. your job is to hold eye contact, keep your breathing steady, and do not pull away. understand?”
“yes,” you whisper, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it.
“look at me,” he commands gently.
you look up. jay leans in slowly.
the world outside the window completely ceases to exist. his movements are deliberate, agonizingly drawn out, giving your brain time to register every single detail. you see the dark depth of his eyes, the slight curve of his nose, the perfect, soft shape of his lips. he tilts his head to the side, a fraction of an inch, mapping out the angle perfectly.
closer. you can smell the rich, intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne mixed with the clean scent of his skin.
closer. his chest is almost touching yours, the warmth radiating off his body enveloping you in a heat wave. your breath catches in your throat, your lips parting automatically, exactly the way he taught you. your eyes flutter, desperately wanting to close, but you force them to stay open, locked onto his.
he stops.
his lips are barely half an inch from yours. you can feel the literal heat of his breath brushing against your skin, hovering right over your mouth. the tension in the microscopic space between you is a physical, electric current, pulling at you, begging you to lean forward just a millimeter to erase the agony of the distance. your heart is in your throat. you are completely paralyzed, drowning in the proximity of him.
jay stays perfectly still for three agonizing, breathless seconds, his gaze raking over your eyes, your nose, your trembling mouth. his jaw tightens, a sudden, fierce flash of hunger crossing his features before he forces it down.
slowly, deliberately, jay pulls back. the sudden rush of cool air between you feels like a physical shock. he sits straight up, clearing his throat, though his breathing is visibly shallower than it was five minutes ago.
“just like that,” jay says, his voice a little rough, a little strained. “you held the gaze. you didn't panic. do that with jake, and he’ll—”
the mention of jake’s name feels like a bucket of ice water, snapping something inside you. you look at jay — at his parted lips, his flushed neck, the sheer, unbothered control he’s trying to fake — and a sudden, reckless wave of desperation overrides every single rule, every single boundary, and every shred of your common sense.
and then something you would've never expected comes out of your mouth:
“jay, can you give me a practical example?”
the words hang in the air. jay freezes, his usual smirk vanishing. and for the first time since you walked into room 314, jay park looks completely caught off guard. his dark eyes widen just a fraction, his posture locking up as he stares at you in absolute silence. he stares at your face like he’s waiting for you to say you’re joking. the only sound in the room is the sound of the rain against the windowpane.
“what?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. he tilts his head, blinking down at you like he’s entirely convinced his ears are playing tricks on him. “what did you just say, newbie?”
the sudden realization of what just tumbled out of your mouth hits you like a physical blow. your stomach plummets, and a fierce, blinding heat instantly erupts across your cheeks, burning all the way down to your neck. you instinctively try to pull your knees tighter to your chest, wanting nothing more than to shrink into a microscopic atom and disappear into the mattress.
“i… um,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to a mortified, breathless whisper. you look down at your hands, your fingers frantically twisting the fabric of your pajama pants. “i said… can you give me a practical example? like… a real one.”
jay doesn't move. he just stays cross-legged in front of you, absorbing your words. then, slowly, the shock on his face melts away. a brilliant, wicked, and entirely amused grin spreads across his sharp features. he lets out a low, rich chuckle that vibrates deep in his chest, leaning back slightly on his hands as he studies your purple face.
“wow,” jay murmurs, his tone dripping with pure, unadulterated amusement. “the quiet girl strikes again. you really are full of surprises, aren't you?”
“stop laughing at me!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. your heart is beating so hard you can feel it in your teeth. “i’m being serious! i’m trying to be logical about this!”
“logical?” jay teases, his voice filled with a quiet, shaking laughter. he reaches out and gently, but firmly, tugs your wrists away from your face so you’re forced to look at him. he doesn't let go of your hands, keeping his fingers loosely looped around your wrists. “okay, professor. please, explain the logic to me. i’m dying to hear this.”
you swallow hard, your eyes darting everywhere but his lips. you try to summon every ounce of justification your panicked brain can manufacture.
“well… because!” you stammer, your voice incredibly shy, filled with an embarrassed pitch. “you said it yourself! you said kissing is all about the rhythm and the pacing. and— and you said if i panic during the approach, the whole thing is ruined! how am i supposed to know if i’m going to panic with jake if i haven't actually practiced the real thing? what if my timing is completely off? what if i accidentally bump teeth with him, jay? that would be traumatizing!”
jay listens to your anxious, stuttering speech, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. he looks incredibly smug, entirely enjoying how completely flustered you are.
“so,” jay says slowly, a lazy, teasing purr in his voice as he lightly squeezes your wrists. “let me get this straight. purely for educational purposes… for my duties as your instructor… you think we should break the non-physical clause. for the sake of science.”
“yes!” you whisper-yell, your face burning hotter, if that was even physically possible. “it’s just… a hands-on lab! like chemistry class! it makes perfect sense!”
“chemistry, huh?” jay echoes, his voice dropping an octave, the vibrant laughter in his eyes shifting into something much darker, much more intense.
he slowly releases your wrists, but he doesn't move back. instead, he slides even closer on the mattress, completely invading your personal space until the heat radiating from his body wraps around you like a blanket. the playful, mocking expression of his face softens into something dangerous.
“you’re a terrible liar, newbie,” jay murmurs, his eyes dropping to your parted lips, staring at them for a long, unhurried second before rising back to yours. “you’re not thinking about jake sim’s teeth right now. and you’re definitely not thinking about science.”
your breath hitches completely, your voice trapped in your throat.
“but…” jay whispers, his hand slowly rising to cup the side of your face, his broad palm warm against your burning cheek, his thumb gently resting right on your cheekbone — exactly where he had just described a minute ago. “if you’re really that worried about failing your practical exam… i guess your teacher is just going to have to show you how it’s done.”
jay doesn't give you a chance to think, to backtrack, or to let the embarrassment completely swallow you whole.
his fingers anchor themselves gently behind your neck, his thumb still resting right on your cheekbone, stabilizing you exactly the way he had mapped out verbally just moments before. he leans in, but there is no hesitation this time. the agonizing half-inch of space between your lips vanishes in a split second.
when his lips first touch yours, a gasp catches in your throat, and jay uses that exact fraction of a second to deepen the pressure. his lips are incredibly soft but firm, moving against yours with a practiced, devastating slow rhythm. a full-body shiver ripples through you, your hands automatically reaching out to clutch at the fabric of his soft gray sweater just to keep yourself grounded.
“breathe, newbie,” jay whispers against your mouth, his voice a low, rough vibration that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. “don't hold your breath. follow me, don't overthink it.”
he pulls back just a millimeter, letting the cool air hit your wet lips before tilting his head to a slightly different angle and sliding right back in. it's a gentle, heavy pressure. he tucks your lower lip between his, sucking on it so softly it makes a quiet, embarrassing sound echo in the quiet dorm room. you try to copy the movement, your lips parting a little more as you attempt to match his pace.
“there you go,” jay murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he praises you mid-kiss. his hand slides from your neck down to your shoulder, his broad palm squeezing gently through your clothes. “keep your hands right there. stay relaxed. you’re doing perfect.”
he leads you flawlessly, controlling the entire gravity of the moment. every time you feel like you're about to lose your mind from the sheer intensity of it, jay slows things down, lingering in a soft, pressing rhythm that lets you catch up. your eyes have completely fluttered shut now, the darkness making the sensation of his lips, his warm hands, and the intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne a thousand times more overwhelming. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the heat of his mouth, forgetting about the rain outside, forgetting about the syllabus, forgetting about everything.
when jay finally draws back, he does it slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he fully breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of warmth leaves you feeling completely dazed. you slowly blink your eyes open, your chest heaving as you try to force air back into your lungs. jay is still hovering inches away from your face. his dark hair is slightly messy, his own breathing is visibly shallower, and his usually perfectly composed lips are a dark, flushed red. he’s staring down at you with a heavy, unreadable gaze that is entirely devoid of his usual playful arrogance.
for three long seconds, neither of you says a word.
then, reality comes crashing back down on you with the force of a tidal wave.
oh my god. you just kissed jay park. you practically begged him to do it. you used a fake excuse about "science" and "chemistry class" just to get him to put his hands on you.
a massive, blinding wave of mortification slaps you across the face. your cheeks explode into a furious, bright purple flush. you instantly let go of his sweater as if it had turned into white-hot iron, scrambling backward on the mattress until your back hits his headboard. you pull your knees all the way to your chest, burying your face completely in your arms, a small, choked groan escaping your throat.
“hey,” jay’s smooth voice breaks the silence, a soft, familiar chuckle bubbling up in his chest. you hear the mattress shift as he slides closer to you. “what are you hiding for? you’re the one who demanded a practical exam, professor.”
“please don’t look at me,” you whine into your knees, your voice incredibly muffled and strained with pure embarrassment. “i am going to jump out of that window. i am actually going to die right here on your bed.”
“don’t die yet, we still have to grade you,” jay teases, his tone dropping into that lazy, effortless purr. you feel his long fingers gently tap the top of your head. “come on, look up. i promise i won’t tease you too bad.”
you slowly, hesitantly lift your chin just enough to peek at him through the gap in your arms. jay is sitting right there, leaning his elbow on his knee with his chin resting in his palm, watching you with an incredibly amused, knowing grin.
“so,” jay murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto your wide, panicked ones. “how was the lesson? did it help clarify the mechanics for you?”
“i… yes,” you squeak out, your face still burning hot.
you pull your arms tighter around your legs, your heart still hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs. you are completely, thoroughly embarrassed — more humiliated than you have ever been in your entire life. but beneath the suffocating layers of shyness, as you look at jay's slightly curved lips, you feel a terrifyingly honest truth settling deep in your chest.
you liked it. you liked it a lot. in fact, you liked it so much that the mere thought of taking these newly learned "mechanics" and using them on jake sim suddenly felt entirely, completely impossible.
-------
you keep your mouth shut. you don’t tell yunjin. in fact, you don’t tell a single living soul.
when you get back to your shared apartment that evening, yunjin is sitting on the kitchen counter eating dry cereal straight from the box, her eyes instantly narrowing into little laser beams the second the front door clicks shut. you quickly mutter something about having a massive headache from the library lights, sprint into your bedroom, and lock the door behind you. if you open your mouth, even just to breathe, you’re terrified the taste of jay’s strawberry-and-mint lip balm will somehow manifest in the air and give you away.
you spend the next two days in a state of absolute, localized hysteria.
the embarrassment is a physical weight, pressing down on your chest until you feel lightheaded. you can't stop replaying the feeling of his broad palm cradling your jaw, the specific, gravelly pitch of his voice when he whispered “breathe, newbie,” and the agonizingly soft, rhythmic pull of his lips against yours. you had loved it. you had loved it so much that just thinking about it while sitting in a Tuesday morning lecture makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip.
and that’s not even the worst part. the worst part — the thing that is currently keeping you awake at 3:00 a.m. staring at your ceiling fan — is how the lesson had actually ended.
right before you had practically bolted out of his dorm room, your face still a catastrophic shade of purple, jay had stood by the door with his hands shoved casually into his cargo pants. he had looked down at you, that slow, devastatingly handsome smirk firmly back in place, and murmured: “since you passed your practical exam with such high marks, newbie… i’ll let you call the shots for lesson five. it can be anything you want. think about it.”
anything you want.
how are you supposed to walk back into room 314 on thursday afternoon, look jay park in his incredibly symmetrical, aristocratic face, and say: 'oh, yeah, hi, remember how i said i wanted to learn for science? well, the science was great, can we please just make out for another hour?'
you can’t. you literally cannot do that. it would destroy the flimsy, pathetic shield of "educational purposes" you’ve been hiding behind. it would mean admitting that you aren't a student trying to impress jake sim anymore; it would mean admitting that jay has completely, effortlessly rewired your brain in the span of three weeks.
speaking of jake, his reality is becoming increasingly harder to navigate. he texts you a picture of a coffee cup on Wednesday morning: 'at the café near the library. wish you were somewhere i am today.'
you stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. a week ago, a text like that would have made you scream into your pillow. it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s a direct reference to the tease jay helped you send him. but now, looking at the letters, all you can think about is jay’s chest pressed against your back, his warm hands adjusting your waist in front of the mirror, and his low voice telling you to let him suffer.
when you reply with a simple, sweet 'awkward timing, i'm stuck in a study group! next time x', it feels like you’re writing a script for a play you’ve completely lost interest in starring in.
by thursday afternoon, your anxiety has reached a fever pitch. you change your sweater twice, eventually settling on a high-necked, oversized crewneck that offers absolutely zero skin-to-air vulnerability. you walk up the stairs of the west quad like a prisoner marching to the electric chair, your knees feeling strangely hollow.
when you reach room 314, you stand outside the heavy wooden door for a full sixty seconds, your hand raised to knock, your heart hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs.
just be normal, you tell yourself, closing your eyes tightly. ask him to practice advanced flirting. ask him to break down how to read body language across a crowded room. do not look at his mouth. do not think about his hands.
you take one final, deep breath, brace your shoulders, and knock.
the door swings open, and jay is standing there looking entirely too comfortable in a soft cream-colored knit sweater and dark trousers. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, his gaze dropping to your high-necked crewneck before rising back to your face with a slow, knowing amusement.
“well, look who it is,” jay says, stepping back to let you into the room. the door closes behind you with a quiet, solid click that feels incredibly final. “come on in, newbie. i was starting to think you’d skipped town.”
“i wouldn’t skip town,” you mumble, keeping your eyes trained firmly on his desk as you walk past him. you sit on the very edge of his bed, your posture rigid and stiff, your hands tightly clasped in your lap.
jay doesn't sit in his desk chair this time. instead, he walks over and leans his hip against the edge of the mattress, just a couple of feet away from you. he crosses his arms, tilting his head as his sharp, observant eyes trace the tense line of your shoulders, the frantic way your fingers are twitching, and the obvious blush already coloring your cheeks.
“alright,” jay murmurs, his voice low and conversational. “lesson five. you’re calling the shots today. what’s on the agenda, professor? more chemistry labs, or are we pivoting?”
you clear your throat aggressively, trying to sound as clinical and professional as possible. “i think… i think we should practice advanced flirting. like, body language across a crowded room, or how to subtly command attention in a group conversation. i think that’s a really logical next step for jake.”
jay doesn't say anything for a long, agonizing beat. he just stands there, watching you stumble over your words. then, a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his lips, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief. he knows you're lying. he can see right through your pathetic little shield, and he is clearly planning on playing dirty.
“advanced flirting in a crowd,” jay repeats smoothly, nodding his head as if he’s taking you completely seriously. “okay. sure. let’s practice that. but you know, advanced flirting isn’t just about looking across a room, newbie. it’s about what you do when you finally get close to someone in a crowded, loud space. when the music is too loud and you have to make them listen to only you.”
before you can even process his words, jay moves.
he slides onto the bed, shifting his weight until he is sitting directly beside you. his thigh presses flush against yours, the heavy, intoxicating warmth of his body immediately enveloping you. your breath hitches, your entire body going completely rigid as you stare straight ahead, terrified to look at him.
“let’s set the scene,” jay whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through the mattress. he leans in closer, his chest brushing against your arm. “we’re at a busy bar. the music is throwing heavy bass. jake is standing right next to you, but there are people everywhere, pushing into your space. if you just talk normally, he won't hear you. you have to close the distance.”
he leans over, his face entering your peripheral vision. you bite your lip, staring straight ahead at his closet door, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs it feels painful.
then, jay eliminates the space entirely.
he leans over your shoulder, his chest pressing firmly against your back. he tilts his head, burying his face right in the crook of your neck, just an inch away from your sensitive skin. his hot, heavy breath fans out across your jawline and the side of your neck, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down your spine. you let out a soft, helpless gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your own sweater.
“if you want him to notice you,” jay murmurs, his lips brushing against the tiny hairs on your neck as he speaks, his voice a devastatingly hot, quiet rumble right against your ear, “you don’t shout over the noise. you lean in. right here. where it’s quiet.”
you can feel the warmth of his lips moving, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. the air in the room is completely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy scent of his sandalwood cologne. your mind is a chaotic, blurred mess; you can’t think about jake, you can’t think about advanced flirting, you can’t think about anything other than the agonizing friction of jay’s body pressed against yours.
“and then,” jay continues softly, his hand slowly rising to rest on the curve of your waist, his large palm squeezing gently through your thick sweater, anchoring you to him, “you tell him something confidential. something that makes him forget the entire room exists.”
he lingers there for an agonizing, breathless three seconds, his breath hot against your ear, letting the agonizing tension build until you’re practically trembling under his touch. you’re completely paralyzed, your lips parted, waiting, secretly begging for him to just turn your face and kiss you again.
instead, jay slowly draws his head back just a fraction. he doesn't move his body away, keeping his chest pressed to your back and his hand firmly on your waist, but he tilts his head so he can look at the side of your face. his eyes are dark, intense.
“but we aren't at a crowded bar, newbie,” jay whispers, his voice dropping even lower, turning into something raw and fiercely honest. his thumb rubs a slow circle into your waist. “it’s just you and me in a quiet room. and your shoulders are up to your ears because you’re lying to me.”
you swallow hard, a shaky breath escaping your lips.
jay leans in just a millimeter closer, his lips almost brushing your earlobe. “so stop playing games with me. look at me and tell me what you really want to do for lesson five.”
you swallow hard, the feel of his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of your sweater making it completely impossible to form a coherent thought. your gaze is frozen on the wrinkled blankets of his bed, your pulse hammering a rapid rhythm in your ears. jay doesn't move. he stays right there, his chest warm against your back, his breath a steady, intoxicating heat against the side of your neck, patiently waiting you out.
"i'm waiting, newbie," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr that completely undoes the last shred of your resolve.
"i... i want to practice kissing again," you blurts out, the words rushing out of you in a desperate, breathless squeak.
the hand on your waist pauses for a fraction of a second. jay doesn't immediately pull back, but you can feel the slight shift in his posture, the way his jaw tightens against your hair. you quickly scramble to cover your track, the sheer embarrassment forcing your brain into overdrive as you try to construct a pathetic safety net of logic.
"because— because of the mechanics!" you stammer quickly, your voice dropping to a mortified whisper as you twist your fingers together. "the last time... i was entirely caught off guard, jay. and i felt like i was completely awful at it. i didn't know where to put my hands, and my timing was definitely off, and... and if i'm going to be ready for jake, i need to actually make sure i can do the rhythm properly without freezing up. it’s just for the lesson. for practice."
the silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a knife. for three agonizing seconds, you’re entirely convinced you’ve gone too far, that he’s going to laugh at your transparent excuse and tell you the lesson is over.
then, slowly, jay draws back.
you force yourself to turn your head, your cheeks burning a bright, furious pink as you look at him. jay is studying your face, his dark eyes incredibly heavy and focused. the playful, arrogant smirk you expected isn't there; instead, his lips are parted slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"for practice," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to your core.
"yes," you whisper.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into something thick and serious. he slides closer, crossing his legs so he’s sitting directly in front of you, completely erasing the distance. "if we’re going to fix your rhythm, we need to do it right. look at me."
you lift your chin, your eyes locking onto his. jay doesn't hesitate this time. his large, warm hand rises, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring right on your jawline to tilt your face up. he leans in, and before your brain can even register the proximity, his lips are pressing firmly against yours.
the contact is an immediate shock of heat. unlike the brief practical exam from days ago, jay doesn't start with a gentle question. he slides his lips over yours with a slow, heavy confidence, guiding your mouth to open slightly with a soft, persistent pressure.
"put your hands on my shoulders," jay whispers directly against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he pulls back just a millimeter to give the instruction. "don't just let them hang there. hold onto me."
your hands shake as you lift them, your fingers clutching tightly at the soft cream fabric of his knit sweater. the moment your palms make contact with his broad shoulders, jay lets out a low, approving hum deep in his throat. he tilts his head to the opposite angle, his lips sealing over yours again, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate pace.
he teaches you through the movement itself. when your movements get too rushed or frantic from the sheer panic of how good it feels, jay uses the firm grip on the back of your neck to slow you down, lingering in a heavy, pressing rhythm that forces you to match his breath. his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, a subtle, electrifying hint that makes a quiet, helpless sound escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of your jawline, pulling you closer until your chest is completely pressed against his.
the "practice kiss" begins to stretch, the boundaries of the lesson blurring until the air in the dorm room feels thick and heavy with a sudden, suffocating wave of genuine friction. it isn't just a clinical demonstration anymore. his lips are moving against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his breathing turning shallow and rough against your cheek. your fingers tangle deeper into the knit of his sweater, your body leaning entirely into his warmth, completely lost in the intoxicating taste of him. it’s a full-on makeout, a lingering, breathless collision that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim.
suddenly, as if realizing exactly how far the line has been crossed, jay stiffens.
he pulls away, his hand sliding out of your hair as he abruptly breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you gasping for air, your lips tingling and flushed a deep red. you scramble back a few inches, your heart thumping violently against your ribs as reality comes crashing down on you like ice water.
the silence in the room is deafening, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. jay is sitting right in front of you, his dark hair completely messy from your fingers, his chest heaving under his sweater. he looks completely ungrounded, his eyes staring down at his own hands for a long, heavy beat before he finally forces himself to look up at you.
the atmosphere is thick with a sharp, suffocating awkwardness. both of you are completely aware that that wasn't on the syllabus.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts slightly on the mattress, trying desperately to summon his usual composed, unbothered demeanor.
“that was… good,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and completely lacking its usual playful smugness. he avoids looking directly at your lips, his dark eyes focusing on your forehead instead as he slides off the bed and stands up. “your timing is… it’s fine. we’ll work on it.”
the minute those words leave jay’s mouth, the spell breaks entirely. you don't even wait for him to officially dismiss you. you practically scramble off the edge of his bed, your sneakers skidding slightly on the hardwood floor of his dorm as you snatch your tote bag from his desk chair with trembling hands.
“i— i have to go,” you stammer, your voice a high, frantic squeak that you barely recognize. you can't even look him in the eye; your gaze is glued to the door handle as you sprint toward it. “i have… a study group. and a paper. thank you for the lesson!”
you yank the door open and fling yourself out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind you before jay can even utter a response.
the walk — or rather, the hyperventilating run — back to your apartment is a blur of pure, unadulterated panic. your chest feels incredibly tight, your lungs burning as the cool evening air hits your face, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging fire still burning on your lips. your lips are tingling, slightly swollen, and heavy with the undeniable taste of him.
it’s for jake, you tell yourself, your fingers gripping the straps of your tote bag so tightly your knuckles turn a stark, ghostly white. it’s entirely for jake.
you turn the corner past the campus library, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you mentally repeat the words like a sacred mantra. the only reason i asked him to do that is because jake is going to kiss me soon. yunjin said jay is the best teacher. i just needed hands-on experience so i don’t humiliate myself when jake finally makes a move. it’s an educational baseline. that’s all it is.
but the anxious pacing of your thoughts only gets faster, louder, and more desperate.
if i didn't practice with jay, i would have frozen up with jake. jay was just correcting my rhythm. he said my timing was fine. so now, when jake kisses me, it’s going to be perfect. i’m doing this to save my future with jake. jay is just an instrument. a tutor. a textbook.
you push open the heavy glass door to your apartment building, practically taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator feels too slow, too claustrophobic for the storm currently raging inside your head.
it doesn't matter that my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. it doesn't matter that i forgot how to breathe. it doesn't matter that i wanted him to keep going. you reach your front door, fumbling blindly with your keys, your hands shaking so violently that the metal clicks loudly against the lock. it’s for jake. it’s all for jake sim. it has to be.
you unlock the door and burst inside, instantly slamming it behind you and leaning your back against the wood, letting out a long, shaky exhale. the apartment is dark and quiet — yunjin isn't home yet — which is a blessing, because if she took one look at your wild eyes and bitten lips, she would know instantly that you didn't just practice advanced flirting.
you drop your bag on the floor and walk straight into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. you lean over the sink and stare at your reflection in the mirror.
your cheeks are still flushed a deep, telltale crimson. your hair is slightly unruly where jay's fingers had tangled into it, and your lips are undeniably darker, stung red from the heavy, lingering pressure of his mouth. you look completely undone. you look like a girl who just got thoroughly made out with by jay park.
your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket, the sharp vibration making you jump.
with a racing heart, you pull it out. a notification blocks the screen.
jake: hey! just finished soccer practice. totally random, but are you free to grab dinner tomorrow night? just the two of us? 😊
you stare at the glowing text, the emojis, the sweet, easy invitation from the boy you’ve been dreaming about for months. it’s the exact moment you’ve been working toward. the ultimate goal. the reason you embarrassed yourself, the reason you sent the photos, the reason you walked into room 314 in the first place.
you lift your eyes back to your reflection in the mirror, your thumb hovering over the screen to type out a reply.
see? you think, your mind screaming at you to believe the lie as a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. it worked. the lessons worked. everything i did today… it was all just so i could be ready for tomorrow night. with jake.
but as you finally press your thumb to the glass to type 'i'd love to', your eyes automatically drift down to your own lips, and the phantom sensation of jay's heavy, rough breathing against your skin returns with a fierce, suffocating intensity that leaves you completely breathless.
-------
the afternoon sun is hitting the windows of room 314 when you walk in, casting long, warm bars of light across the hardwood floor. it’s a sharp contrast to the stormy darkness of your last lesson, but the familiar scent of sandalwood and clean laundry still hits you the second the door opens.
jay is sitting at his desk, casually typing something on his laptop, but he looks up the moment you step inside. his dark eyes immediately track your movement as you set your tote bag down by the door. he looks entirely composed, the previous lesson's awkwardness seemingly evaporated from his demeanor, replaced by his usual calm, lazy aura.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says smoothly, closing his laptop with a quiet click. he stands up, stretching his arms slightly before walking over to his mini-fridge. “how was the big date?”
you sit down on the edge of his mattress, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. just the mention of yesterday makes a strange swirl of emotions tighten in your stomach.
“it was… really nice,” you say softly, staring down at the pattern of his blanket. “jake was amazing. he took me to that little Italian place downtown, the one with the string lights. he paid for everything, even when i tried to argue with him. and he was just so sweet, jay. he listened to me talk about my classes, he laughed at my jokes, and he walked me all the way back to my apartment building.”
jay leans against the edge of his desk, taking a sip of water, his eyes locked onto your face. “sounds like a textbook perfect date. so why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”
you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice dropping to a shy, embarrassed whisper. “because… he didn't kiss me.”
jay pauses, his water bottle halfway down from his lips. a sudden, sharp curiosity flashes in his eyes. “he didn't?”
“no,” you groan, burying your face in your knees for a second before looking back up at him, completely miserable. “we stood on the porch of my building for like three whole minutes. i did the eye contact. i did the posture thing you taught me. i held his gaze, my lips were parted, i did everything right! but he just… he smiled, ruffled my hair, told me he had an amazing time, and said goodnight. i don’t get it. did i do something wrong? did he see right through me?”
jay stares at you for a beat, and then, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk begins to crawl onto his face. the intense seriousness from the end of your last lesson is gone, replaced by a wave of pure, triumphant amusement. he sets his water bottle down on the desk and steps closer to the bed.
“newbie, you didn't do anything wrong,” jay says, his voice a low, deeply satisfied rumble. “you’re just dealing with jake sim. the guy is a traditionalist. he’s old-school. he’s not going to lunges at a girl on the very first dinner date, especially not a girl he actually respects and likes as much as he clearly likes you.”
he hitches his usual desk chair over, spinning it around to sit directly in front of you, his knees inches from yours. “honestly? this is perfect for us. it means we’re officially two steps ahead of him.”
you blink, confused. “two steps ahead? what do you mean?”
“i mean,” jay says, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a suffocating amount of focus, “by the time he finally gets the nerve to make a real move on you, you’re not just going to know how to handle a basic kiss. you’re going to be a master. which brings us to today's actual syllabus.”
he rests his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that instantly sets your pulse racing. “today, we’re moving past the initial contact. we’re talking about a full-on makeout. the pacing, the breathing, how to build the physical escalation without getting overwhelmed. how to take control of the rhythm so he’s the one losing his mind, not you.”
your breath hitches completely. the memory of how your last "practice kiss" had spiraled into a lingering, breathless fog flashes through your brain, making your lips tingle instantly.
jay studies the sudden, bright pink flush spreading across your cheeks. his smile softens just a fraction, a quiet, intense gravity taking over his features. he leans in a microscopic inch closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back to yours.
“so,” jay murmurs, his voice a heavy, dangerous purr. “do you want today's lesson to be purely theoretical… or do you want a practical example, newbie?”
your heart is thumping so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. you know you should say theoretical. you know you should protect your sanity, preserve the lie that this is all just an educational game for jake. but as you look at jay — at his sharp jawline, his messy dark hair, his perfect, parted lips — the desperation from days ago takes over completely.
you don’t say a word. you just look him straight in the eye and nod your head, a tiny, submissive gesture.
“good girl,” jay whispers, the words vibrating straight down your spine.
he doesn't waste a single second. jay slides out of the chair and onto the mattress, crossing his legs right in front of you. his large, warm hand rises instantly, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring firmly against your jawline to tilt your face up.
“remember the pacing,” jay murmurs right before his lips touch yours. “let me lead first.”
the instant his mouth seals over yours, the entire world outside room 314 completely vanishes. his lips are incredibly soft but heavy with a firm, demanding pressure that immediately makes a soft, helpless sigh escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your jaw, guiding your mouth to open just a fraction more.
“breathe through your nose, newbie,” he whispers against your lips, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he shifts the angle of his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate rhythm. “don’t rush it. follow my pace.”
you lift your hands, your fingers shaking as you clutch tightly at the soft fabric of his knit sweater, pulling yourself closer until your chest is flush against his. jay lets out a low, rough hum of approval deep in his throat at the touch, his grip on the back of your neck tightening just enough to anchor you completely.
the kiss quickly deepens, the boundaries of a simple "lesson" shattering instantly into a heavy, intoxicating fog. jay shows you how to escalate the tension; his lips move against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth in a soft, agonizing tug that leaves you completely breathless.
“when the energy shifts,” jay murmurs, his voice raspy as he briefly parts from your lips to trace a line of burning kisses along your jawline, his lips hovering right over the sensitive skin beneath your ear, “you use your hands to change the dynamic. don’t just hold my sweater. slide your hands up. touch his neck.”
as if under a spell, you follow his whispered instructions. you let your hands slide up his broad chest, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his neck, your thumbs resting just below his sharp jawline. the physical contact makes jay let out a sharp, ragged exhale against your skin.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a fierce, heavy intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his chest is heaving under his sweater, his lips dark and swollen.
“just like that,” jay whispers, his large hand sliding down from your neck to firmly grip your waist, pulling your hips a fraction closer to his on the mattress. “you control the distance. if he gets too frantic, you hold him right there. if you want more… you pull him back in.”
he doesn't wait for you to pull him. jay leans back down, his mouth crashing back onto yours with a sudden, overwhelming wave of passion that makes your head spin. it’s a full-on, breathless makeout, his lips parting yours completely, his thumb rubbing a slow, heavy circle into your waist through your shirt. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the intoxicating taste of him, your fingers tangling into his dark hair as you match his pace, completely forgetting who this lesson was supposed to be for.
when jay finally draws back, it is agonizingly slow, his lips lingering against yours in three short, pressing kisses before he completely breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you shivering, your chest heaving as you desperately try to force air back into your lungs. jay stays hovering inches away, his forehead resting lightly against yours for a brief, breathless second before he slowly straightens up. his breathing is completely ungrounded, his eyes dark as he stares down at your thoroughly kissed, flushed face.
the silence in the room is suffocating, heavy with the weight of what just happened.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts back on the mattress, trying to force his usual lazy, unbothered smirk back onto his face — though his trembling fingers completely give him away.
“that was… the baseline,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and entirely devoid of his usual arrogance. he looks away from your lips, his gaze tracking a stray shadow on the wall instead. “we’ll… we’ll stop there for today. your pacing is fine, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he stands up quickly, walking over to the door to open it for you, but as you scramble off the bed with a racing heart, you realize with a sudden wave of absolute panic that you don't care about jake sim's reaction at all anymore.
-------
you would be lying to yourself if you had said you hadn't been eager for more after that. you were. in fact, you started meeting jay almost every day so you could "practice" making out.
it became an unspoken, addictive routine. you didn't even wait for a scheduled thursday afternoon anymore. a quick, vague text from jay — ‘my room’s free if you want to study’ — and you would find yourself walking toward room 314 with your heart already doing double-flips inside your chest. you didn't even bring your notebooks anymore. what was the point of pretending?
with every single day that passed, the lessons started escalating little by little, the boundaries of "basic mechanics" crumbling into dust.
one afternoon, the air in his dorm room felt so suffocatingly hot that your hands grew bold. jay was guiding you through a deeper rhythm, his lips heavy and possessive against yours, when your fingers strayed from the hem of his sweater and slid up, slipping underneath the fabric. your bare palms pressed flat against the warm, solid skin of his lower back. you remember the exact way his entire body had rigidified for a split second, a low, ragged growl catching in his throat before he completely lost his composure, his lips turning frantic against yours.
another day, the lesson wasn't about the mouth at all. jay had backed you up against his closed closet door, his large hands anchoring your wrists gently against the wood above your head. “advanced escalation,” he had whispered against your skin, his voice a dangerous, gravelly rasp right before he buried his face in your neck. he had kissed his way down your jawline, his lips warm and demanding as he sucked softly on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, leaving a faint, stinging heat that made your knees turn to literal water.
but the most shocking shift — the one that still makes your face burn a furious purple when you think about it during lectures — happened just two days ago.
jay had been sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, watching you pace around his room as you anxiously rambled on about your nerves. without a word, he had reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you down. before your brain could even process the movement, jay's hands were on your waist, lifting you up and guiding you until you were completely straddling his lap, your knees resting on either side of his thighs.
your whole body had gone into a state of absolute shock, your face inches from his. but jay hadn't teased you. he had just looked up at you with those dark, fiercely intense eyes, his thumbs rubbing slow, heavy circles into your hips. “this is how you handle the proximity,” he had murmured. and then he had pulled you down by your neck.
you had kissed for a whole hour. a full, breathless, uninterrupted sixty minutes where your hands were tangled in his hair, his broad chest was crushed against yours, and his mouth was relentlessly teaching you a rhythm that made your entire soul ache. your body had fit perfectly against his, the heat between you completely consuming the small room. and you had enjoyed every single, agonizing second of it.
still, despite the bare skin, the bruised lips, and the sheer intimacy of sitting on his lap, you kept trying to convince yourself it was all because of jake.
every night, when you lay awake in your own bed staring at the ceiling, you forced yourself to repeat the old script. it’s not because of jay. jay park has absolutely nothing to do with it. he’s just an instructor. he’s just incredibly good at what he does because he’s experienced, and i am just a good student taking advantage of a resource.
you told yourself that the violent butterflies in your stomach, the way your hands shook whenever you touched his skin, and the desperate hunger you felt every time he leaned in were all just a biological reaction. you were just enjoying the physical sensation of making out because, in the back of your mind, you were projecting. you were simply thinking about doing all of these things with jake sim. jay was just the proxy, the placeholder, the mannequin you were using to perfect your technique so that when the time finally came, you would drive jake absolutely crazy.
or at least… that’s what you said to yourself.
-------
you keep your mouth shut, maintaining the absolute lockdown on your secret. whenever yunjin asks how the lessons are going, you look her straight in the eye and lie through your teeth, insisting it’s all strictly theoretical. you tell her jay is just drawing diagrams and explaining body language, all while your lips are still practically stinging from being thoroughly devoured by him just an hour prior.
in the meantime, you keep hanging out with jake. he takes you to get ice cream, he walks you to class, and he remains the perfect, sweet gentleman. but whenever he holds your hand or leans in to give you a polite, fleeting peck on the cheek, a bizarre, hollow sensation settles in your chest. you keep expecting the earth to move, expecting to feel that white-hot, electric current that roars through your veins every time you walk into room 314. but it never comes. you’re just building up to it, you tell yourself desperately. the real spark will happen later. jay is just priming you.
and then comes today's lesson.
the afternoon sun is completely blocked out by the heavy curtains jay drew across his window, plunging the dorm room into a dark, suffocatingly intimate haze. you’re sitting directly on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. the friction between your bodies is a living, breathing thing. you've grown bold over the past week; your hands are slipped entirely beneath his oversized tee, your palms pressed flat against the hot, defined muscles of his chest. your hips shift instinctively, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the friction, your mouth moving against his in a deep, wet rhythm that leaves you both completely breathledd.
jay lets out a sharp, ragged groan directly into your mouth. his hands, which had been anchoring your hips, suddenly tighten with a bruising force. he abruptly pulls his head back, his breathing incredibly shallow and heavy as he forces you to stop moving.
his dark hair is completely unruly, his lips a dark, swollen crimson. he looks up at you, his eyes clouded with a raw, fierce hunger that makes your stomach do a violent flip.
“jesus, newbie,” jay rasps, his chest heaving under his shirt as his hands steady your trembling waist. he takes a long, ragged breath, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, gravelly register. “hold on. stop moving for a second.”
you blink down at him, dazed, your heart hammering against your ribs. “what? did i… did i do it wrong?”
jay lets out a low, breathless chuckle, though his jaw remains incredibly tight. “no. you didn't do it wrong. that’s the problem. the way you move…” he pauses, his intense gaze raking over your flushed face, tracking the absolute innocence in your wide eyes. a sudden, heavy curiosity settles over his features. “have you actually ever done anything sexual before this? like, at all?”
the question hits you like a bucket of ice water. a fierce, blinding wave of mortification instantly erupts across your cheeks. you instinctively try to shift off his lap, but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you anchored right there against his heat.
“no,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to an incredibly shy, embarrassed whisper. you look down at his collarbone, unable to hold his gaze. “i haven't. i’ve never… i’ve never done anything. i told you, i'm a total newbie.”
jay stares at you, a complex flash of emotion crossing his face — surprise, a sudden wave of protectiveness, and a trace of possessiveness that he quickly tries to mask. he clears his throat, his thumb rubbing a slow, grounding circle into your hip.
“right,” jay murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “okay. well. you’re doing great for a beginner.”
you swallow hard, the frantic script in your head screaming at you to take control, to justify why you're enjoying this so much, why you’re pushing the boundaries. you look at his perfectly parted lips, then back up to his dark eyes, and a reckless, desperate thought tumbles right out of your mouth.
“jay… can you teach me about the rest of it?”
jay freezes, his hand instantly stopping its movement on your hip. “the rest of it?”
“yes,” you stammer, your voice incredibly small but filled with a panicked, stubborn determination. you force the lie out, hiding behind your golden shield. “i mean… for jake! what if things escalate on our next date? what if he wants to go further? i don’t want to be completely clueless. i want to know how to make him feel good. i need to learn how sex works. the mechanics.”
jay studies your face for a long, agonizingly silent beat. the air in the room feels impossibly thick. you can feel the sudden, intense heat radiating from his lap, a physical reminder of exactly what your grinding had done to him. but jay is a professional, and more than that, he refuses to pressure you or take advantage of the ridiculous web of lies you've spun.
slowly, deliberately, jay lifts his hands and gently guides you off his lap. the sudden loss of his warmth makes you shiver. he sits back against his headboard, pulling one knee up to his chest, his expression shifting into something clinical, serious, and entirely focused.
“alright, newbie,” jay says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commands your absolute attention. “if you want to talk about how to make a guy feel good, we’re keeping this strictly theoretical. understand? no hands-on for this part.”
you nod quickly, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, your hands tightly clasped in your lap as your face burns hot.
“good. then let’s start with manual stimulation. handjobs,” jay begins, his tone conversational but his words dripping with a raw, explicit honesty that makes your jaw drop. “it’s not just about gripping and sliding. the anatomy is sensitive. a guy's nerves are concentrated right at the head, especially underneath, on the frenulum. if you just pull the skin up and down dry, it’s uncomfortable. you need friction control. you use lubrication, or even just saliva, and you start with a firm but gentle grip at the base.”
you feel your eyes widening, your brain frantically trying to take mental notes as he speaks. jay doesn't break eye contact; he looks straight at you, using clinical but undeniably dirty language that makes your heart thump in your throat.
“the rhythm is everything,” jay continues smoothly, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a heavy, suffocating purr. “you match his breathing. a slow, steady stroke all the way from the base to the top, and when you reach the head, you twist your thumb gently over the top. it builds the pressure. you don’t speed up until his breath catches. you pay attention to his sounds.”
“o-oh,” you squeak, your hands twisting together. “i… okay. slow rhythm. twist at the top.”
“exactly,” jay says, a faint, amused half-smile touching his lips at your absolute mortification, though his eyes remain heavy and intense. “now, if things go further… oral. blowjobs. this is where most girls panic because they think about their teeth. your teeth should never touch his skin, newbie. you keep your lips curled completely over them. like an anchor.”
you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. your cheeks are a catastrophic shade of purple, but you are hanging on every single syllable.
“the technique isn’t just about depth,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “it’s about suction and warmth. you use the roof of your mouth and your tongue to create a vacuum. you start slow, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him in. and the most important part? the pacing. you don’t just stay at the top; you move down to the base, using one hand to stroke the shaft while your mouth handles the rest. dual stimulation.”
he pauses, leaning forward just a fraction, his voice dropping into a whisper that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine.
“and you never, ever break eye contact,” jay whispers, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying amount of gravity. “when you’re down there, you look up at him. through your lashes. you let him see exactly what you’re doing to him. it drives a guy absolutely insane, newbie. it completely breaks his control.”
you sit there, completely paralyzed, your chest heaving as you absorb the intense, explicit breakdown. you are utterly mortified, entirely overwhelmed, and your brain is screaming at you that you are supposed to be picturing jake sim during this entire lecture.
but as you look at jay — at the way his jaw tightens, the way his low, gravelly voice sounds saying those explicit words, and the dark, possessive heat hidden deep in his eyes — you realize with a sudden wave of pure terror that jake’s face hasn't crossed your mind even once.
you sit there at the foot of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently you can hear it in your ears. the explicit details of his words are still hanging heavy in the dim, warm air of the dorm room. your hands are knotted tightly in the fabric of your sweater, your palms slick with a nervous sweat.
you look down at his lap, then back up to his dark, unhurried eyes. the golden shield of your excuse — the lie that this is all a clinical preparation for a future with jake sim — feels incredibly heavy, but it’s the only armor you have left.
"jay," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. you swallow hard, your face burning a catastrophic shade of crimson as you force the words out. "if... if the rhythm and the grip are that specific... what if i mess it up? what if i'm too rough, or too loose? can you... can you give me another practical example?"
jay’s entire body tenses. the casual, leaning posture against his headboard locks up instantly. his eyes widen just a fraction, his gaze dropping to your trembling hands before snapping back up to look at your face. the heavy, silent tension in room 314 returns with the force of a physical blow.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice rougher and deeper than before. he clears his throat, his knuckles whitening as his hands grip the mattress. "we said strictly theoretical for this. i'm not trying to rush you into anything."
"i'm not rushed," you lie desperately, leaning forward just a fraction, your heart in your throat. "i just... i need to know if i'm doing it right. for the baseline. please, jay."
jay stares at you for three agonizing, breathless seconds. his jaw tightens so hard you can see the muscle tick under his sharp skin. he lets out a long, slow, ragged exhale through his teeth, the restraint he’s been maintaining for weeks visibly fracturing.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. "come here."
you move on your knees, sliding across the mattress until you're sitting right beside his thigh. your knees are trembling. jay reaches down, his fingers hooking under the hem of his dark trousers, and with a low rustle of fabric, he frees himself.
your breath catches completely. he is already thick, fully erect, and a dark, heavy flush is painting his skin. the pure, raw reality of it makes your mind go entirely blank.
"don't look away," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably steady despite the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "wrap your fingers like this."
he reaches out, his broad, warm hand wrapping around yours to guide it. he positions your fingers at the very base of his shaft, curling them in a firm, even cylinder. his skin feels smooth, white-hot, and pulsing beneath your touch.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his face inches from yours. "stroke up. slow. all the way to the top."
you slowly move your hand upward, the physical friction sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up your arm. your heart is beating in an erratic rhythm against your ribs.
"good. just like that, newbie," jay praises you, a low, breathy rumble in his throat. his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, a soft, encouraging look melting his usual sharp features. "now, when you hit the head... slower at the top. twist your thumb over the frenulum. exactly like i explained."
you follow his instructions perfectly, slowing the motion, your thumb dragging gently over the ultra-sensitive rim.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sudden, ragged groan, his eyes instantly fluttering shut as his head thumps back against the headboard. the sound is deep, unvarnished, and completely intoxicating. "yes. right there. that's perfect, sweetheart. keep that exact pace."
hearing the pet name slip past his lips makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you keep going, your movements becoming smoother, more confident as you fall into the heavy, dragging rhythm. you watch his face, completely fascinated by the raw power you suddenly hold over him.
but as the seconds tick by, the clinical baseline completely disintegrates. the touch is too hot, the friction too intense, and jay’s carefully constructed control begins to dangerously slip.
his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his shirt. his sharp, dark brows furrow in a look that almost resembles pain. he lets out another heavy, broken groan, a sudden, involuntary jerk rippling through his lower half as his hips instinctively thrust upward against the firm pressure of your hand.
"jay," you whisper, completely captivated by the sight of him losing his mind beneath your touch.
"keep going... shit, don't stop," he swears under his breath, his voice rough and completely ungrounded. his hand flies to your wrist, not to pull you away, but to physically lock your hand in place, his fingers squeezing tightly as he takes over the pace, forcing your hand to move faster, harder against him. another ragged, breathy moan escapes his lips, his jaw clenching so tightly his veins stand out against his neck. "you're too good at this... fuck, newbie..."
the sheer, overwhelming heat of the moment fills the quiet room, the sound of his ragged breathing and the soft, slick friction of your hand filling the space between you. you are utterly drowning in him, your thumb tracing the wetness at the tip, your own breathing turning heavy as you lean into his space.
you look up through your lashes, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with a fierce, possessive hunger. and that’s when the old, desperate script in your head panics, trying one last time to pull you back to safety.
"is this… how i should do it for jake?" you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
jay freezes.
the pleasure on his face vanishes instantly. his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist hard enough to still you completely. his eyes open, sharp and raw.
jay stares down at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as he absorbs the name. for a second, something painful flashes across his face — hurt, anger, and something deeper. he exhales shakily, then gently but firmly removes your hand from him. the silence that crashes into the room is suffocating.
he reaches down, gently but firmly removing your hand from his skin, and quietly covers himself back up, shifting his weight to sit back against the wall.
the sudden loss of contact leaves your hand feeling cold, your fingers tingling. the blinding wave of embarrassment returns, your cheeks exploding into a furious red flush as you realize what you just said.
“newbie…” he says quietly, voice rough. “don’t do that.”
you feel sick with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”
but jay doesn't lash out. he doesn't tease you, and he doesn't bring up the name. instead, he just looks down at your flustered, wide-eyed face, a soft, incredibly gentle expression taking over his sharp features.
"hey," jay murmurs, his voice still low and beautifully rough from the aftereffects of the pleasure. he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently patting the top of your head, his fingers lightly smoothing down your messy hair. "don't look at me like that. you didn't do anything wrong."
you look up at him through your bangs, your heart still thumping softly. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..."
"it's fine," jay interrupts softly, a faint, tired but genuinely warm smile touching his lips. his hand slides down from your head to rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you're a fast learner, newbie. really fast. you passed the lesson."
he sits there, his hand warm and heavy on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle into your shirt. it’s a soft, lingering moment of aftercare that feels entirely too domestic, entirely too real for a simple tutoring session. and as you look at his gentle smile, your hand still warm from his skin, the lie about jake feels smaller and more pathetic than it ever has before.
-------
when thursday afternoon rolls around, the tension inside your chest is so thick you can barely swallow. the walk to the west quad feels different today; the golden armor of your excuses is getting heavier, cracking, but the raw curiosity burning in your veins is too loud to ignore.
when you knock on the door to room 314, jay opens it almost instantly. he’s wearing a loose, dark gray t-shirt and light gray sweatpants, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, a quiet, intense gravity in his gaze that lets you know he hasn't forgotten a single second of tuesday's handjob lesson either.
"come in, newbie," jay murmurs, stepping aside.
you walk in and immediately sit cross-legged in the center of his unmade bed, your hands tucked between your knees to hide how much they’re shaking. jay closes the door, the heavy click sealing the two of you in the quiet, sandalwood-scented dimness of his room.
he doesn't sit in his desk chair. he walks straight to the edge of the mattress, standing right in front of you, looking down with his hands shoved casually into his sweatpants pockets. "alright. lesson seven. what are we breaking down today?"
you look up at him, your cheeks instantly exploding into a fierce, burning crimson. you swallow hard, your fingers twisting together as you force the words out. "i... i want to learn how to give a blowjob. you explained the theory on tuesday, but... i’ve always been curious about how the actual tongue work and depth feel. i want the practical example, jay."
jay’s entire posture locks up. his eyes darken significantly, a sudden, heavy wave of heat rolling off his body as he stares down at your flushed, determined face. he takes a slow, ragged breath through his nose, his jaw clenching tightly.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice incredibly deep and rough. "are you absolutely sure about this? once we cross this line, there’s no turning back."
"i'm sure," you whisper, looking him straight in the eye.
jay doesn't say another word. he slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the edge of the bed, right in front of you. with a low, deliberate rustle of fabric, he pushes his sweatpants down, freeing his thick, fully erect length. he is already pulsing, a heavy, dark flush painting his white-hot skin.
"get down on your knees between my legs," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably patient, completely ridden of his usual mocking tone
you slide off the mattress, sinking onto your knees on the hardwood floor right between his thighs. your face is level with his lap, the raw heat of his arousal radiating against your cheeks.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his large, warm hand rising to gently cup the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into your hair to steady you. "remember what i said. keep your lips curled completely over your teeth. let me feel your tongue first. swirl it right around the head."
you lean in, your hands hesitantly resting on the top of his firm thighs for balance. you slowly extend your tongue, dragging the wet, warm tip in a slow circle around the sensitive rim of his crown.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sharp, ragged gasp, his head immediately tossing back, his eyes fluttering shut as a deep shiver ripples through his lower half. his fingers tighten gently in your hair. "yes. just like that, baby. you're so warm, you feel so good."
"now, open up a little more," jay murmurs, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with an intense, suffocating pleasure. "take the top half in. use the roof of your mouth to create a gentle suction. don't rush the depth yet."
you part your lips, curling them firmly over your teeth as he instructed, and slowly slide your mouth over the thick, smooth head of his shaft. the sudden warmth and tightness of your mouth makes jay let out a low, broken moan deep in his chest. you pull back slightly, then slide forward again, your tongue swirling against him with every movement.
"you're doing so good, newbie," jay praises you, his voice a low, breathy rumble right above your head. his hand in your hair is incredibly sweet, gently guiding your rhythm, pacing your movements so you don’t choke. "you're so pretty looking up at me like that. god, you're perfect."
hearing him call you pretty makes a violent, hot flash of adrenaline surge through you. you grow bolder, sliding your mouth a little further down, letting your throat adapt to the thickness. you manage your breathing, taking steady, short inhales through your nose as your mouth works rhythmically against him.
the clinical nature of the lesson completely shatters. jay’s control begins to dangerously fracture under the wet, tight heat of your mouth. his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his t-shirt as his hips instinctively lift, thrusting a fraction deeper into your mouth with a heavy, unvarnished desperation.
"shit, look at you," jay groans out, a ragged, completely ungrounded swear escaping his lips as his grip on your hair tightens just enough to hold you in place. his eyes are locked onto yours, blazing with a raw, possessive hunger as you look up at him through your lashes. "look at you, sucking me off so good... fuck, sweetheart, you're driving me insane."
the explicit praise sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. you wrap your right hand around the base of his shaft, sliding it up and down in sync with the heavy suction of your mouth, creating a flawless, dual stimulation that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
jay let out a deep, guttural cry, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck, his hips moving faster, more rapidly against your mouth as he inches closer and closer to the edge.
"hold on— hold on, baby, stop," jay suddenly rasps, his breathing completely shattered. he gently but firmly pulls your head back by your hair, his chest heaving as he draws a long, shaky breath.
you blink up at him, your lips wet and flushed a deep red, your heart thumping violently. jay stares down at your face, his eyes incredibly heavy, full of a fierce, protective softness that completely melts his sharp features.
slowly, he reaches down, his thumb gently wiping away a drop of moisture from the corner of your mouth. a faint, breathless, and incredibly tender smile on his lips.
"you're a genius, newbie," jay whispers, his voice beautifully rough as he lightly taps your cheek. "lesson concluded. you're officially too good for this campus."
-------
when you arrive for the next lesson, the atmospheric pressure inside room 314 feels entirely different. the standard conversational buffer — the casual banter about classes, the lingering ghost of a mention of jake — is completely gone. when jay opens the door, he doesn’t say his usual witty greeting. he just looks at you, his dark eyes heavy and remarkably soft, and reaches down to gently take your bag from your hand, setting it by the desk.
"hey," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly timbre that instantly makes your pulse flutter.
"hey," you whisper back.
he closes the door with a quiet, deliberate click, locking it before turning back to you. he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, and his hair is a little messy, falling perfectly over his forehead. he doesn't wait for you to sit on the edge of the mattress; instead, he takes your hand, his long, warm fingers sliding effortlessly between yours, and guides you to the middle of the bed.
"we've spent a lot of time breaking down what makes a guy lose his mind," jay says softly, sitting down right in front of you, his knees brushing against your thighs. his free hand reaches up, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your face up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes. "but that's only half the mechanics, newbie. you need to know what feels good for you, too. you need to know how your body reacts when someone is completely focused on you."
your breath catches, a fierce, sudden heat blooming across your chest. "jay..."
"i'm going to go slow, okay?" he interrupts gently, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners with a reassuring, incredibly tender smile. "no rushing. i'm going to teach you exactly how you're supposed to be touched."
he leans forward, his lips pressing softly against your forehead, then your temple, before trailing down to the sensitive column of your neck. a violent, delicious shiver ripples through your entire body as he kisses his way back up to your jawline, his lips warm and unhurried.
"lay down for me, sweetheart," jay whispers against your skin, his hands moving to your waist to gently guide you back onto the pillows.
you slide down, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as jay shifts, hovering over you, supported by his elbows on either side of your head. his gaze rakes over your flushed face, his expression so fiercely loving and sweet it makes your chest ache. he reaches down, his large, warm hand sliding under the hem of your top, his palm resting flat against the bare skin of your stomach. you let out a soft, sharp inhale at the sudden friction.
"just breathe," jay praises you, his voice a soft, comforting rumble as his fingers trail lower, gently nudging the waistband of your shorts. "let me do the work."
slowly, deliberately, he eases your clothes down, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs to the dim, warm air of the room. you instinctively try to pull your knees together, a sudden wave of shyness hitting you, but jay gently presses them apart, sliding his body between your legs to anchor you. he doesn't look away; his eyes stay locked onto yours as his fingers softly brush against the inner skin of your thigh, moving upward with agonizingly slow, light strokes.
"you are so beautiful, newbie," he murmurs, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting you fully before trailing his mouth down to your collarbone. "so pretty for me."
when his hand finally reaches the center of your heat, you let out a breathless, broken gasp, your fingers instantly clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. his fingers are warm, incredibly gentle as they find the small, sensitive bundle of nerves. he starts with light, circular motions, his thumb sliding over the slick skin with a practiced, effortless rhythm.
"there you go," jay whispers against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he tracks the sudden, erratic hitch in your breathing. "feel that? that's the baseline. you just stay relaxed, let the heat build."
he introduces a single finger, sliding it slowly into your tight, wet heat. a soft, helpless moan escapes your throat, your hips instinctively lifting against his hand. jay lets out a low, rough hum of absolute approval deep in his chest, his finger moving in a slow, curling motion that targets a deep, heavy ache you didn't even know was there.
"look at me, sweetheart," he commands softly. you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of it, to find him staring down at you with an unvarnished, consuming intensity. "you're doing so good. you're so wet for me."
he continues the rhythm, his fingers moving inside you with a steady, heavy pace while his thumb keeps a relentless, agonizingly perfect pressure on your core. you feel the tension building rapidly, a hot, tight knot coiling tightly in your lower stomach. your hands tangle deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer as your breathing turns shallow and desperate.
"jay... jay," you whimpered, completely ungrounded by the overwhelming sensation.
"i've got you," he murmurs sweetly, kissing away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. he pulls his hand away for just a fraction of a second, making you let out a needy whine, before he shifts his body lower on the mattress.
he presses your knees open wider, his hands firmly gripping the undersides of your thighs to steady you. you look down through your lashes, your face burning a furious purple as jay leans his head down, his mouth replacing his fingers.
the first touch of his wet, warm tongue against your sensitive core makes your entire body arch off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room. jay's hands tighten on your thighs, anchoring you completely as his tongue sweeps upward in long, firm strokes, applying a heavy, steady suction that sends a violent, electric current straight down your spine.
"oh my god," you sob out, your fingers desperately clutching at the bedsheets as the coiling tension inside you completely snaps.
jay doesn't stop. he works through your release, his tongue moving in a relentless, beautifully deep rhythm, drinking you in as your body trembles and shakes beneath him. he holds you steady through the intense waves, his mouth warm and unbelievably patient against your sensitive skin until the final tremors slowly begin to fade.
when he finally slides back up the mattress, his face is flushed, his dark eyes shining with a deep, triumphant softness. he pulls the blankets up over your shivering shoulders, immediately wrapping his broad arms around you and pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective embrace.
he leans down, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your warm neck.
"you did so perfect, newbie," jay whispers into your hair, his voice rough and beautifully thick as his large hand rests over your heart, feeling it hammer a frantic pace against his palm. "absolutely perfect."
the cool night air hits your face the moment you step out of the west quad, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging, white-hot fire burning beneath your skin. your limbs feel heavy, almost liquid, and every step you take on the concrete sidewalk feels strangely disconnected from reality.
the guilt catches up to you by the time you reach the campus quad. it settles into your stomach like a block of lead, heavy and suffocating.
you just had sex with jay park.
well, not full intercourse, but it was sexual. it was intimate. he touched you, he put his mouth on you, he held you through the most intense physical release of your life, and he wrapped his arms around you like you belonged to him. the raw, unvarnished memory of his wet tongue, his whispers of "sweetheart," and the protective warmth of his chest pressed against your back makes a violent shudder get to your core.
it's for jake, your brain screams, a frantic, high-pitched panic echoing in your head as you grip the straps of your tote bag until your knuckles turn white. the reason why you're doing this is for improving for jake. you're a newbie. you needed to know what a release felt like so you don't panic or freeze up when jake finally takes you to his bed. jay is just the instructor. he's a textbook. he has nothing to do with this.
but deep inside, in a dark, quiet corner of your soul that you are desperately trying to block out, you know it's a lie. you know text modules and posture corrections don't involve a guy worshiping your body until you're sobbing his name into his pillows.
still, you really try to convince yourself. you force the golden shield back into place, cementing the lie with sheer, stubborn willpower as you unlock the door to your apartment. yunjin's bedroom door is closed, the apartment blissfully dark. you tip-toe straight into your room, lock the door behind you, and collapse onto your bed without even changing out of your clothes.
the bed feels too big, too cold, and your skin is still tingling, practically begging for the touch that was just stripped away from it.
fine, you think desperately, staring up at the shadows on your ceiling. if it's for jake, prove it. fantasize about him.
your hands shake as you slide them down the denim of your shorts, slipping past the waistband to touch the lingering, hypersensitive heat between your thighs. you close your eyes tightly, forcing jake's face into your mind's eye. you picture the sweet way he ruffles your hair, the little Italian restaurant with the string lights, the gentle way he holds your hand across the table.
you start to move your fingers, replicating the exact circular rhythm jay had used on you just an hour ago. a soft, needy gasp escapes your lips into the quiet room. the heat builds rapidly, your body already primed and ready to boil over.
it's jake, you tell yourself, your breathing turning hurried as you pick up the pace. imagine jake doing this to you. imagine jake hovering over you in the dark.
you lean into the fantasy, letting the tight, coiling knot in your stomach take over. you bite your lip hard, letting your brain go insane — imagining the pretty sounds he’d make, mouth open in a slight “o” as his brows furrow, hair falling down, almost reaching that pretty nose adorned with the scar you love to feel between your—
wait.
jake doesn’t have a nose scar.
that’s jay.
your fingers freeze.
the world inside your bedroom completely grinds to a halt. you stare blankly at the dark ceiling, your hand slipping out from your shorts as if your skin had suddenly turned to ice. your heart is hammering, but it’s not from the pleasure anymore; it’s from pure, unadulterated terror.
you just pictured jay.
you were touching yourself, trying to build a future with the boy you’ve liked for months, and your brain completely bypassed him to conjure the exact, devastating image of jay park’s sharp jaw, his furrowed brows, and that tiny, pale scar cutting right across the bridge of his aristocratic nose.
a suffocating wave of reality hits you. it isn't jake. it has never been jake. not since you walked into room 314.
the next morning, the guilt is a physical sickness in your throat. you can’t look at your phone. when jake texts you a picture of a golden retriever he saw on his walk, you reply with a short, polite emoji, your stomach twisting into knots. you are entirely, completely compromised.
by monday afternoon, you know what you have to do. you can't keep going to room 314. if you walk back into that room, if you let him put his hands on your waist one more time, you will never be able to look jake sim in the eye again. you will lose the entire script.
with shaking thumbs, you open your chat with jay.
you: hey jay. i think we should stop the lessons. i think i have everything i need now. thank you for everything.
you hit send and immediately flip your phone face-down on your duvet, burying your face in your hands. you expect him to reply with his usual lazy, arrogant ‘sure thing, newbie’. you expect him to be relieved that his tutoring duties are officially over.
but three minutes later, your phone buzzes. then it buzzes again. and again.
jay: what do you mean? jay: did something happen? jay: newbie answer your phone. if i did something on thursday to make you uncomfortable you need to tell me. i told you we could go at your pace. did i pressure you?
the sheer, frantic panic in his messages makes your throat tighten. the cool, unbothered, perfectly composed jay park is completely gone, replaced by someone who sounds genuinely, deeply terrified that he hurt you.
you bite your lip, a stray tear slipping down your cheek as you type back.
you: no! no, jay, you didn't do anything wrong at all. you were perfect. it's just... things are getting serious with jake. he asked me out again this weekend. and since jake was the original purpose of the whole thing... i need to focus on him now. i have to be fair to him.
you watch the screen. the three little typing dots appear almost instantly. then they disappear. then they appear again. the silence stretching between your apartments feels agonizing.
finally, the phone buzzes one last time.
jay: right. the original purpose. jay: i get it. good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.
the text is so clinical, so brief, it feels like a physical slap. he doesn't fight it. he doesn't tease you. he just steps back into the box of the "instructor," closing the lid firmly behind him.
-------
the rest of the week passes in a gray, heavy blur. you don't go to the west quad. you take the long way around the library just so you don't have to risk seeing his tall silhouette walking past the glass windows.
friday night arrives, and you're sitting at the vanity in your bedroom, curling your hair for your second official date with jake. yunjin is leaning against your doorframe, watching you with a slight, curious frown.
"you're quiet today," yunjin notes, crossing her arms. "usually before a jake date you're bouncing off the walls. didn't your theoretical lessons with jay give you a confidence boost?"
"they did," you lie softly, your eyes fixed on your reflection. "i'm just... focused."
"well, jay's been acting weird too," yunjin shrugs, turning back toward the living room. "saw him at the student union yesterday. he looked like he hadn't slept in four days. completely tuned out."
your grip on the curling iron tightens so hard your palm aches. he's fine, you tell yourself desperately. he's jay park. he's glad to have his bed back to himself.
an hour later, you're sitting across from jake at a trendy, low-lit taco place downtown. the restaurant is loud, music bouncing off the brick walls. jake is looking at you with that sweet, boyish grin, talking animatedly about his soccer coach's ridiculous training schedule.
he's perfect. he's everything you wanted.
but as the noise of the restaurant swells, jake leans across the small wooden table, his face closing the distance to say something over the music. your brain immediately fires a memory — the heavy weight of jay's chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering 'we're in a quiet room, stop playing games with me.'
"hey," jake says, his hand reaching out to lightly tap your wrist. "you there? you looked like you were a million miles away."
"i'm here," you say, forcing a bright, sweet smile onto your face. "sorry, just listening."
when the date ends, jake walks you all the way back to your apartment building. the air on the porch is cool, the dim amber light of the streetlamp casting long shadows over the brick steps. it's the exact setup from a week ago. the final act.
jake stands close, his dark eyes looking down at you with a soft, undeniable affection. he reaches out, his fingers gently tucking a stray curl behind your ear. his hand is nice. it's sweet.
"i had a really great time tonight," jake whispers, leaning in slowly.
your heart spikes, your body automatically going rigid as you realize it’s happening. this is it. the practical application. jake tilts his head, his eyes dropping to your mouth before closing as he bridges the final inch.
his lips press against yours.
it is a perfectly nice kiss. it's gentle, polite, and safe. but as jake's mouth moves against yours, your brain does absolutely nothing. there is no white-hot rush of electricity. there is no heavy, suffocating gravity pulling at your soul. your hands stay flat against your sides, entirely lacking the desperate urge to slide beneath his shirt, to grip his broad shoulders, to tangle into his hair.
jake pulls back after a few seconds, a sweet, satisfied smile on his face. "goodnight," he murmurs, ruffling your hair gently before turning to walk down the steps.
you stand on the porch in the quiet night air, staring at his retreating back. your lips feel completely cold. your skin feels entirely empty. and as you turn the key in your apartment lock, a crushing, definitive truth finally breaks through the last of your defenses.
the lessons didn't prepare you for jake sim. they ruined you for anyone who isn't jay park.
-------
you keep trying.
you really, truly do. you go on a third date with jake to an indie movie theater, and a fourth date where he cooks dinner for you at his apartment. he is everything a boyfriend should be — attentive, sweet, incredibly handsome, and completely respectful. but every time he holds your hand, your fingers feel numb. every time he leans down to kiss you goodnight on your porch, your mind is a completely flat, silent room.
there are no shivers. there is no gravelly voice whispering “breathe, newbie” against your skin. there is no heavy, intoxicating scent of sandalwood.
you are physically with jake sim, but you are entirely haunted by jay park.
you miss him. you miss him so much it feels like a physical ache in the center of your chest. you miss the arrogant, lazy smirks that you eventually learned how to kiss right off his face. you miss the way his large, warm hands felt sliding underneath your sweater. you miss the breathless, quiet aftercare where he would just stroke your hair and tell you you did perfect.
you haven't received a single text from him in two weeks. your chat history sits at the bottom of your messages, a cold, clinical reminder of "the original purpose."
then comes tuesday afternoon.
you’re sitting on the living room rug of your apartment, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare blankly at a textbook you haven't actually read a page of in thirty minutes. yunjin is sitting on the couch right behind you, painting her toenails a vibrant shade of cherry red.
the apartment is completely quiet except for the rhythmic swipe, swipe of her nail brush.
"hey," yunjin speaks up suddenly, not looking up from her pinky toe. "so, i ran into jake at the gym earlier today."
your shoulders instantly tighten. "oh. yeah?"
"yeah. he was glowing, honestly," yunjin says, finally capping the nail polish and leaning back against the cushions. she looks down at the top of your head, her sharp eyes narrowing in a familiar, hyper-observant squint. "he said things are going amazingly with you. he literally told me you're the most perfect, sweet girl he’s ever met."
you let out a tiny, hollow sound that is supposed to be a laugh, but it sounds incredibly sad. "that's... nice."
"so..." yunjin trails off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. her voice drops into a lighter, teasing tone. "come on. spill. how are the advanced lessons going? did jay's theoretical tutoring actually work? did he give you the magic playbook or what?"
at the mention of his name, something inside you completely snaps.
the two weeks of suffocating guilt, the crushing weight of the lies, the phantom feeling of jay's mouth on yours, and the sheer, exhausting misery of pretending to be happy with jake all come crashing down at once. your eyes suddenly sting with hot, angry tears, and a shaky, broken sob escapes your throat before you can even think to mask it.
yunjin freezes. her jaw practically drops to the floor as she watches your shoulders violently shake, your face burying themselves into your knees.
"wait— oh my god, hey," yunjin stammers, instantly sliding off the couch and dropping to the rug beside you. she wraps a panicked arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "what's wrong? did jake do something? did he hurt you? i will literally fight him right now—"
"no!" you sob out, your voice muffled and thick with tears as you shake your head against your knees. "no, jake didn't do anything! jake is perfect! he's so sweet!"
"then why are you crying like someone died?" yunjin asks, completely bewildered, her hand rubbing your back in a comforting motion. "if jake is perfect, what's wrong?"
you lift your head, your face a catastrophic, tear-stained shade of purple, your chest heaving as you look at your best friend.
"it's jay," you choke out, the truth finally tearing its way out of your chest.
yunjin blinks, her eyebrows furrowing in deep confusion. "jay? jay park? what does he have to do with you crying about jake?"
"the lessons," you whisper, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "they... they weren't theoretical, yunjin. i lied to you. i lied to everyone."
yunjin’s entire body goes completely still. her grip on your shoulder tightens as she stares at you, the dots in her highly perceptive brain suddenly trying to connect a picture she never expected to see. "what do you mean they weren't theoretical?"
"we... we did a practical lesson, a lot of them, actually," you confess, your voice cracking with pure, unadulterated embarrassment, but the relief of finally saying it out loud is a physical weight lifting off your lungs. "the first few weeks were just talking, but then... when he was telling me how to kiss someone correctly, i panicked because i thought i'd be bad at kissing jake. so i asked jay for a real example. and he kissed me."
yunjin’s eyes widen to the size of literal dinner saucers. "jay kissed you?"
"yes," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "and then it happened again. and again. and then we started meeting almost every single day. we weren't even studying anymore, yunjin. i would sit on his lap for a whole hour and we just made out on and on. and then last week... we... we did some more things, and he showed me what felt good for me, too. with his hands, and his— his mouth."
yunjin lets out a sharp, breathless gasp, her hand flying over her mouth. she looks completely, utterly flabbergasted, her jaw practically unhinged. "oh my god. oh my god. you and jay... you guys were sleeping together?"
"not all the way! but yes!" you cry out, pulling your hands away from your face, looking at her desperately. "and the whole time, i kept telling myself it was for jake. i kept saying 'oh, i'm just a newbie getting hands-on experience so i can be good for jake'. i even tried to touch myself thinking about jake afterwards, but yunjin... when i closed my eyes, all i could see was jay. i saw his face, and his hair, and his nose scar."
yunjin is staring at you like you’ve just spoken to her in a foreign language. she is completely speechless, processing the absolute bombshell you just dropped into her living room.
"so... so i stopped the lessons, everything," you whisper, your voice dropping to a broken, miserable murmur as you look down at your lap. "i texted him and told him i had to focus on jake. and he just said okay. and now i'm going on these dates with jake, and he's so nice, yunjin, he really is... but i… don't feel anything. when jake kisses me, it's just... cold. i don't want jake to touch me. i just want jay. i miss him so much it hurts, and i'm a horrible person because i used him as a textbook and now i've completely ruined everything."
you bury your face back in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you let the final wave of tears take over, waiting for yunjin to lecture you, to tell you how reckless you were, or to tell you how completely messy this entire situation is.
instead, yunjin lets out a long, slow, and incredibly deep exhale. she reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. the initial shock on her face has melted away, replaced by a look of sheer, unbelievable realization.
"my love," yunjin says slowly, her voice completely serious. "are you actually an idiot?"
you blink through your tears, sniffing. "what?"
"you think you used jay park?" yunjin asks, letting out a wild, disbelieving laugh. "are we talking about the same jay park? the guy who has half the girls on the humanities campus begging for a text back? the guy who doesn't let anyone into his personal space, let alone his dorm room?"
you wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, confused. "but... it was a casual thing. he was just being a good instructor..."
"oh my god, you are a literal child," yunjin groans, throwing her hands up in the air. "listen to me. jay fucking park did not give you a 'practical lesson' because he cares about your future with jake sim. he did not spend an hour letting you straddle his lap and eat his face because he’s a dedicated tutor. he did those things because he is completely, utterly obsessed with you, you absolute moron!"
the conversation with yunjin stays ringing in your ears for the rest of the week, a loud, echoing truth that makes your chest feel completely hollow. he is completely, utterly obsessed with you. you want to believe it. god, you want to believe it so bad, but the memory of his final text — ‘good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.’ — stands like a massive brick wall between you and room 314.
and then, jake texts you.
it’s not a casual, low-effort ‘grab coffee?’ or a late-night invite to watch him play soccer. he sends a long, beautifully constructed message, asking you on a proper, official date to a high-end jazz lounge downtown that requires a reservation weeks in advance. he tells you he’s been noticing your new confidence lately — the way you hold yourself, the lingering eye contact, the ease in your posture — and that he likes you. a lot. he wants to make things official.
a month ago, a text like that would have made you collapse onto your bedroom floor in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. it was the ultimate finish line. the exact gold medal you had been sweating and crying for under jay's brutal, meticulous guidance.
so, you say yes. you force yourself to put on your prettiest dress, you spend an hour doing your makeup, and you walk down the steps of your building to meet jake’s car.
the jazz lounge is beautiful. the dim, amber lighting reflects off the polished mahogany tables, the music is soft and smooth, and jake looks incredibly handsome in a dark blazer. he handles the evening perfectly. he pulls out your chair, he orders the best wine on the menu, and he looks at you with a heavy, sweet admiration that makes your cheeks warm.
"you look absolutely stunning tonight," jake murmurs, reaching across the white tablecloth to gently squeeze your fingers. "honestly, i feel like a different girl walked down the steps today. you've always been gorgeous, but lately... there's just something about you. you're so captivating."
you force a soft smile, nodding your head. "thank you, jake. that's... really sweet."
but as his fingers linger on yours, the crushing reality of the evening finally settles over you.
it’s nice. it’s objectively perfect. but it feels completely, utterly empty.
you sit there, listening to the saxophone player on the stage, and you find yourself looking at the way jake laughs. it’s a nice laugh, but it doesn't make your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you look at his hands, and you realize you don't have the slightest urge to slip your fingers beneath his cuffs. you look at his lips, and the thought of his mouth on yours doesn't make your breath catch.
and in that exact, agonizing moment, the grand illusion you've been clinging to for weeks finally shatters into a million jagged pieces.
you aren't projecting. you aren't using jay as a proxy.
you are deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love with park jay.
the realization hits you with the force of a physical blow, making your breath leave your lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. it isn't just about the mechanics or the white-hot heat of his mattress. it’s the way his dark eyes soften into a fierce, protective warmth whenever you look up at him through your lashes. it’s the patient, steady way he guides you when you panic, never pushing, always making sure you feel safe. it’s the quiet, breathless aftercare where he brushes the hair from your forehead, calling you sweetheart in a voice so thick and honest it makes your soul ache. it’s the easy, effortless way you laugh together between the heavy tension, the real, undeniable connection that you built brick by brick in that small, sandalwood-scented dorm room.
jay didn't teach you how to love jake sim. jay taught you how to love him.
"hey," jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, his brow furrowing with genuine concern as he leans in closer. "are you okay? you're really pale suddenly."
you look at jake — at his kind, sweet face — and you realize that staying here, pretending to be the girl he wants, is the cruelest thing you could possibly do to him. you can't live a lie anymore. the script is over.
"jake," you whisper, your voice trembling as you gently pull your hand back from his grip. "i'm... i'm so sorry. i can't do this."
jake blinks, completely caught off guard. "what? did i say something wrong?"
"no, you're perfect," you say, a tear finally spilling over your lashes as you grab your purse from the back of the chair. "you are absolutely wonderful, jake, i swear. but... my heart is somewhere else. it’s been somewhere else for a long time, and it’s not fair to keep dragging you into it. i’m so, so sorry."
before he can even process the words, you stand up from the table and walk — almost run — straight out of the jazz lounge, leaving the music behind you.
the moment you hit the cool night air of the sidewalk, you don't call a cab. you don't go back to your apartment to cry to yunjin. you sprint.
your heels click loudly against the concrete as you rush toward the west quad, your lungs burning, your heart hammering a desperate, terrifying rhythm against your ribs. the wind completely ruins your curled hair, and your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but you don't care. the only thing that matters is the distance between you and room 314, and you need to eliminate it right now.
you burst through the heavy glass doors of his building, practically flying up the stairs three at a time because the elevator is too slow, too claustrophobic for the sudden, desperate panic roaring through your veins.
you reach the third floor, your chest heaving as you run down the carpeted hallway until you're standing directly in front of his heavy wooden door.
you don't wait to compose yourself. you don't brace your shoulders or try to be normal. you lift your shaking hand and knock against the wood, loudly, your whole body trembling in the quiet corridor.
the heavy wooden door swings open almost immediately, the sudden movement revealing jay standing in the entryway. he’s wearing an oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants, his dark hair messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
the second his dark eyes lock onto you, he freezes. his gaze sweeps over your ruined curls, the formal dress you’re wearing, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the fresh tears spilling over your cheeks.
"newbie?" jay rasps, his voice completely stripping of its usual calm, unbothered composure. he steps forward, his hands instantly coming up to hover near your shoulders, completely shocked. "what— what are you doing here? why are you crying? did something happen with jake? did he hurt you? i swear to god i'll kill—"
"i'm in love with you," you blurts out, the words tearing out of your throat in a shaky, breathless sob before he can even finish his sentence.
jay stops dead in his tracks. his hands freeze in mid-air, his jaw dropping open just a fraction as his entire body goes completely rigid. the quiet corridor feels extremely silent, the heavy weight of your words hanging in the space between you.
"i'm in love with you," you repeat, a fresh wave of hot tears blurring your vision as you look up at his face. you feel incredibly shy, completely stripped of your armor, your voice dropping to a small, trembling whisper. "i went on the date with jake. he was perfect, jay. he took me to that jazz lounge, and he held my hand, and he told me i was beautiful... but it felt completely empty. i didn't want him to touch me. i didn't want him to kiss me. because the whole time, the only person i could think about was you. i thought about how you look at me, and how safe i feel when you hold me, and... and i realized i've been lying to myself for weeks. i don't want jake. i want you. i've always wanted you."
jay stares down at you, his expression completely blank for three long, agonizing seconds. you feel a sudden, terrifying wave of panic hit your stomach, convinced you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
then, jay’s shoulders start to shake.
he drops his head back, a sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaping his lips. he keeps laughing, a breathless, rough sound that makes your heart sink into your shoes. he’s laughing at me, you think completely mortified, stepping back a fraction. yunjin was wrong, he thinks i'm pathetic—
before you can even take a full step away, jay moves.
his large hands shoot forward, wrapping securely around your waist, and with one heavy, desperate pull, he yanks you forward into his dorm room. the door slams shut behind you with a loud, final click, and suddenly, you are crushed completely against his broad chest.
jay wraps his strong arms around you, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding you so tight it’s almost bruising. you can feel the heavy, erratic thumping of his heart against your ribs, his whole body trembling slightly as he holds you like you’re about to disappear.
"jay?" you squeak out, your hands hesitantly coming up to clutch at the thick fabric of his black hoodie.
"i'm not laughing at you, newbie," jay murmurs against your skin, his voice thick, ragged, and completely devoid of his usual arrogance. he lets out another low, disbelieving chuckle right into your hair, his grip tightening. "i'm just... i'm in complete disbelief. i can't believe you're actually standing here saying this to me."
he slowly draws his head back, keeping his large hands firmly anchored on your waist so you can't move away. his dark eyes are incredibly heavy, looking down at your tear-stained face with a raw, consuming tenderness that completely melts your heart.
"you are such a moron," jay whispers, a soft, beautiful smile finally breaking across his sharp features. "you really thought this was all just a clinical lesson for me? you think i let you straddle my lap for a whole hour because i'm a dedicated tutor?"
you sniff, looking up at him through your lashes. "yunjin said..."
"yunjin was right," jay interrupts softly, his thumb rising to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch unbelievably sweet. "i’ve liked you for weeks, sweetheart. even a month, probably. do you have any idea what it was like for me to sit in that chair and listen to you ramble on about jake sim every single week? i hated it. i hated every single time his name left your mouth. i wanted to throw him across the campus every time you showed me a text from him."
you blink, your heart spiking. "then why didn't you say anything?"
"because i was terrified," jay admits honestly, his jaw clenching slightly as his dark eyes lock onto yours. "you came to me so innocent, so focused on this dream you had of being with him. i was so scared that if i told you how i felt, i would pressure you. i was scared i'd ruin your confidence, or make you feel trapped in the lessons. i didn't want to hurt your feelings. so when you texted me on monday saying you were done..."
he pauses, his breathing turning shallow as he leans his forehead lightly against yours, his hot breath fanning across your lips.
"i was resigned," he whispers, his voice dropping to a gravelly, vulnerable register. "i decided to just let you go to him. i thought, if jake makes her happy, i'll just step back and let her have her perfect boyfriend. it almost killed me, newbie. i haven't slept a full hour since monday."
hearing his confession makes your chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming wave of love. you lift your hands, your fingers tangling deep into the soft, dark hair at the back of his neck, pulling him that final, microscopic inch closer.
"you don't have to let me go," you whisper directly against his lips. "i'm right here."
"yeah," jay murmurs, his dark eyes flashing with that familiar, possessive heat right before his mouth crashes onto yours. "you're right here."
the weight of his confession still hangs in the air of his room, but the heavy emotional armor you’ve both been wearing for weeks has completely shattered. your fingers are knotted so tightly in the dark hair at the back of his neck that your knuckles ache, your body pulling flush against his broad chest until there is absolutely no space left between you.
jay doesn't give you a single second to breathe. the moment your lips touch, the familiar, intoxicating taste of him rushes over you, but this time, the desperate restraint he had been clinging to during the "lessons" is completely gone. his mouth crashes into yours with a raw, possessive hunger that makes your knees instantly turn to water. it isn't a demonstration. it isn't a baseline. it is a fierce, consuming claim that leaves you both dizzy.
"jay," you gasp against his lips, a soft, helpless sound escaping your throat as his mouth slides hungrily down your jawline, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.
"i've got you," jay rasps, his voice an incredibly deep, gravelly vibration against your neck. "i've got you, sweetheart. you're not going anywhere."
his large hands slide down from your waist, his broad palms gripping the undersides of your thighs with a sudden, bruising force. with one effortless, powerful lift, jay hoists you completely off the ground. you let out a sharp gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you the three short steps over to his bed, collapsing both of you onto the unmade blankets.
the impact is soft, but the physical heat between you is instantly blinding. jay hovers directly over you, his heavy frame anchoring you to the mattress, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead as he looks down at your flushed, breathless face. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, blazing with a fierce, protective intensity that makes your heart thump wildly against your ribs.
"look at you," jay whispers, his chest heaving under his black hoodie as his thumb traces the swollen, red curve of your bottom lip. "you're actually here. in my bed. telling me you want me."
"i do," you breathe out, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his hoodie to press your bare palms flat against the warm, defined muscles of his lower back. "i want you so bad, jay."
a low, ragged growl catches in his throat at the touch of your bare skin. he leans back down, his mouth devouring yours in a deep, wet, frantic rhythm that completely shatters the last of your control. his tongue slides possessively over yours, guiding your mouth to open wider, drinking in every single soft, broken moan you make.
the physical friction escalates instantly. jay shifts his weight, his heavy hips settling right between your thighs, the thick, rigid length of his arousal pressing hard through his sweatpants directly against your core. your dress is hiked up around your waist, leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear between your bodies. instinctively, a desperate, white-hot hunger takes over your body, and your hips tilt upward, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the unbearable pressure.
"fuck," jay groans directly into your mouth, his eyes flying shut as his entire body goes completely rigid at the sudden friction. his hands move to your hips, his long fingers digging into your skin to hold you still, but the desperate, needy roll of your pelvis makes a rough, unvarnished swear escape his lips. "newbie... shit, hold on. you're going to break me."
"no," you whine, your hands slipping out from his hoodie to clutch tightly at his broad shoulders, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him through your lashes. "don't stop, jay. please. i've been thinking about this for weeks."
the admission completely breaks his remaining restraint. jay lets out a sharp, ragged exhale and lets his hips move, matching your upward tilts with a heavy, rhythmic grind of his own. the dry humping is agonizingly perfect, the thick, hard pressure of his length rubbing relentlessly against your hyper-sensitive core through the fabric of his clothes. every single slide makes your head spin, your fingers digging deep into the soft cotton of his hoodie as you arch your back off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room.
"yes, just like that," jay murmurs, his voice a ragged, breathless rasp as he buries his face back in your neck, his lips pressing a trail of burning, wet kisses along your collarbone. "let me feel you. god, you're so hot, sweetheart. you feel so fucking good."
he shifts the angle of his hips, grinding harder, deeper, targeting the exact spot that makes your whole body tremble. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the suffocating heat of his body, the rough friction between your thighs, and the intoxicating, raw intimacy of hearing him lose his mind beneath your touch. his chest is heaving violently against yours, his breathing shallow and rough as his hips thrust down in a fast, desperate rhythm that brings you both dangerously close to the edge.
"jay," you sob out, your head tossing back against the pillows, your core weeping with a desperate, heavy ache that dry humping can no longer satisfy. "jay, please. i don't want the clothes anymore. i want to feel you. really feel you."
jay stops his movement instantly. he draws back, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged gasps as he looks down at you. his face is flushed, his eyes clouded with a fierce, overwhelming hunger, but beneath the passion, that deep, protective tenderness returns with a beautiful clarity.
"newbie," he whispers, his hands gently framing your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your cheeks. "are you sure? your first time... i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to rush this."
"i'm sure," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the anxious beating of your heart. you look straight into his dark eyes, your fingers rising to gently trace the tiny pale scar on his nose that had given the lie away. "i love you, jay. i want it to be you. teach me the rest."
a profound, heavy silence settles over the room, the raw emotion of your words melting away the last remnants of the old "lessons." this isn't an educational baseline anymore. this is a confession, a complete surrender, and jay handles it with a reverence that makes your eyes sting with happy tears.
"okay," jay whispers, his voice dropping into a soft, beautifully thick register. "okay, sweetheart."
slowly, deliberately, he sits back on his heels. his large, warm hands move to the hem of your dress, gently and carefully sliding the fabric up over your hips, your waist, and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. his eyes track the movement, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with an unvarnished, breathless admiration that makes you feel completely worshiped. he reaches down, his long fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear, easing them down your legs until you are completely bare beneath him.
"you are so beautiful," jay murmurs, his voice shaking slightly as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your bare stomach. "absolutely perfect."
he stands up briefly, pulling the black hoodie over his head and kicking his sweatpants away, revealing his broad, heavily defined chest and the thick, white-hot length of his arousal. when he slides back onto the mattress, the sheer, raw heat of his naked skin making contact with yours sends a violent shock of adrenaline through your veins.
he hovers over you again, but this time, he doesn't immediately move to progress things. he takes his time. his large, warm hand slides down your side, his palm resting flat against your hip as he gently coaxes your knees apart, sliding his body between your thighs. he leans down, his mouth sealing over yours in a slow, agonizingly sweet kiss that tastes of absolute devotion. his fingers slide down, finding the slick, dripping heat between your legs, and he uses two fingers to slowly stroke your core, priming you, making sure you are completely prepared for him.
"relax for me," jay whispers against your lips, his thumb applying a steady, heavy pressure that makes your hips instinctively lift. "i'm going to go so slow, sweetheart. if it hurts, you tell me to stop. understand?"
"i understand," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his dark hair, pulling his face down so you can kiss him again.
jay pulls his hand away, the sudden loss of contact making you let out a needy whine, but then you feel the heavy, smooth head of his shaft aligning directly against your tight, wet opening. the sheer thickness of him makes your breath hitch, your hands instantly clutching at the firm muscles of his shoulders.
"look at me," jay commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly purr.
you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of the moment, to find him staring down at you with a consuming, fierce possessiveness. his dark eyes are entirely focused on yours, locking you in place.
slowly, with an agonizingly careful, steady pressure, jay sinks his hips down.
the initial stretch is tight, a sharp, white-hot pinch of discomfort making your eyes widen as a soft, broken gasp escapes your parted lips. your body automatically tenses beneath him, your fingers digging deep into the skin of his shoulders.
instantly, jay stops. he freezes in place, only a fraction of his length inside you, his jaw clenching hard as he battles his own primal urge to thrust. a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin, but his entire focus remains totally on your comfort.
"i know, i know," jay murmurs sweetly, his face dipping down to press a series of soft, comforting kisses to your eyelids, your burning cheeks, and the tip of your nose. "breathe through your nose, newbie. just like i taught you. let your body adapt to me."
he reaches down, his large hand finding your core again, his thumb rubbing slow, heavy circles against your sensitive skin while he stays perfectly still inside you. the steady, masterful friction slowly melts away the sharp pinch, replacing the discomfort with a deep, heavy wave of slick, throbbing heat. your muscles slowly relax, opening up around him, practically begging for the rest of his weight.
"jay," you whisper, your hips giving a tiny, tentative upward nudge. "more. please."
"good girl," jay rasps, a low, broken hum of absolute approval escaping his chest.
he shifts his hands, wrapping his long fingers securely around your waist, anchoring you to the mattress. slowly, smoothly, he pushes his hips down the rest of the way, burying his entire length deep inside your tight, wet heat. a loud, unvarnished cry tears out of your throat, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even closer as the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him completely consumes your senses.
jay lets out a deep, guttural groan, his head burying themselves into the crook of your neck as he stays completely buried inside you for three long, breathless seconds, letting you adjust to the magnificent weight of him.
"you're so tight, sweetheart," jay whispers, his voice completely ungrounded, shaking with a raw emotion that has absolutely nothing to do with a lesson. "you feel so perfect around me. fuck. you're mine. you know that, right? you're completely mine now."
"i'm yours," you sob out, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers. "i'm yours, jay."
when he finally begins to move, it is the furthest thing from the clinical, calculated pacing of before. it is slow, incredibly deep, and heavy with a fierce, possessive passion. jay draws his hips back until he is almost entirely out, making you let out a needy, panicked gasp, before sliding back in with a long, smooth stroke that drives straight to the center of your ache.
“ah— jay!” you cry out, your head tossing back against the pillows as the relentless, deep rhythm takes over the small room.
he guides you through every single movement. when your breathing gets too frantic, jay uses his grip on your waist to lift your hips slightly, slowing the pace down, lingering deep inside you until your breath catches in sync with his. his mouth is everywhere — kissing your lips, your jaw, biting softly on your neck, leaving dark, faint marks on your skin that say louder than words exactly who you belong to.
"you're doing so good for me, baby," jay praises you, his voice a heavy rumble right against your ear. his breathing is completely shattered, his chest slick with sweat as it crushes against yours with every single deep, driving thrust. "look at you. you're taking all of me so perfectly. so pretty for me, sweetheart."
the explicit, loving praises send jolts of pure electricity straight down your spine. you grow bolder, your fingers digging into his hips as you match his pace, lifting your pelvis to meet his downward thrusts, creating a flawless, sharp friction that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
the pacing quickly turns heated, the slow tenderness fracturing beneath a sudden, overwhelming wave of raw, unadulterated passion. jay's dark brows furrow in a look of pure agony, swears escaping his lips with every single heavy, pounding thrust. he moves faster, deeper, his hips crashing against yours with a bruising, desperate force that makes the entire bed shake.
"jay... jay, i'm close," you sob out, the tight, hot knot in your lower stomach coiling so tightly you can barely breathe. your fingers tangle desperately into his damp hair, pulling him down, needing his mouth on yours as your climax approaches.
jay snaps his eyes open, his dark gaze locking onto yours with a terrifying, beautiful amount of gravity. "look at me," he rasps, his hips thrusting deep, holding you completely still beneath him. "look at me when you break, sweetheart. let me see you."
you look up through your lashes, staring straight into his cloudless, fierce eyes as he delivers three fast, incredibly deep thrusts. the coiling tension inside you completely snaps, a blinding wave of pure, white-hot release crashing over your entire body. you let out a loud, broken cry, your inner muscles clamping tightly around his length in violent, pulsing spasms.
the sudden, tight friction completely breaks jay's remaining control. he lets out a deep, guttural cry against your mouth, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck as his hips give one final, breathless thrust, burying himself as deep as physically possible inside you as his own release hits him.
jay stays buried deep inside you for a long moment, his chest pressed flush against your back as both of you come down from the high. his lips brush lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, like he can’t stop touching you even now.
“are you okay, pretty?” he murmurs, voice rough and low against your skin.
you nod, still catching your breath, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “more than okay.”
he hums in satisfaction and carefully pulls out, immediately rolling you over so you’re facing him. his large hand slides up your side, gentle and possessive at the same time, as he tucks you against his chest. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are your slowing heartbeats and the distant hum of campus life outside his window.
jay’s fingers trace slow circles on your bare back.
“so,” he says after a long beat, that familiar lazy grin creeping into his voice, “how do you feel now that you’ve graduated from my lessons?”
you let out a soft laugh, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck. “i feel like an idiot.”
“yeah?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “took you long enough to figure it out.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing the tiny scar on his nose. “why didn’t you say anything sooner? all those weeks… you just kept teaching me like it didn’t kill you every time i mentioned jake.”
jay’s expression softens. he cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with surprising tenderness.
“because you came to me wanting help to get another guy,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t going to be the asshole who messed with your head while you were vulnerable. even if it sucked. even if i wanted to throw my laptop across the room every time you showed me his texts.”
he leans in and kisses you slowly, deeply — nothing like the heated frenzy from earlier. this one feels like a promise.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
“for the record,” he murmurs, smiling again, “you were never going to end up with jake. not after the first time you asked me for a ‘practical example.’ i knew it then. you were already mine.”
you groan, embarrassed but smiling. “you’re so cocky.”
“and you love it.”
you do.
jay pulls the blanket higher over your shoulders and wraps both arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. his lips brush your temple.
“no more lessons,” he whispers. “no more pretending. just this. just us.”
you press a soft kiss to his collarbone, already drifting off in the warmth of his embrace.
“just us,” you echo.
as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel jay smile against your hair.
for the plot i‘m open to anything! i would just love to include smut! i would love to do mxm and i‘m pretty much open with any boygroup! i do prefer writing the top!
groups i really like:
nct
enhypen
&team
txt
zerobaseone & and2ble
ald1
riize
- i like to match my length to my writing partner!:
- only on discord
- i may reply slowly from time to time because of work
synopsis: When your boyfriend Soobin struggles to satisfy you in the bedroom, you both agree to see the city’s most sought-after sex therapist: Jeon Jungkook. Charming, confident, and dangerously skilled with his hands, Jungkook doesn’t just offer advice— he shows you exactly how it’s supposed to feel. What starts as clinical demonstrations quickly turns into something far more intense, with Soobin watching helplessly from the corner as Jungkook takes his time teaching your body pleasures your boyfriend never could.
warnings: smut mdni, masturbation, use of a vibrator, cuckholding, fingering, oral (f.rec.), unprotected sex, missionary, lotus, doggystyle, biting, ass eating (because @merakoo asked for it), ass slapping, hair pulling, rough sex, lots and lots of dirty talk, creampie, squirting, this is filthy as fuck, soobin x reader.
✶﹐word count: 10.5k
The room was quiet except for the slow, uneven sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal. You lay on your back beside Soobin, both of you staring up at the ceiling where the same faint crack in the paint had been mocking you for months now. The sheets beneath you felt sticky and warm, but the warmth wasn’t the satisfying kind that usually came after really good sex. It was just… fine. Everything lately had been fine. His hand had been gentle on your hips, his kisses soft against your neck, and when he finally came, he let out that familiar quiet groan before collapsing beside you. But you hadn’t. Not even close.
In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.
Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.
“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.
You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.
You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.
Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.
Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.
The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.
All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.
You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.
By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.
Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.
Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.
Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.
It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”
Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.
“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”
The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”
You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.
The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.
You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.
Ten minutes felt like an eternity.
Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.
Finally, the door opened.
Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.
He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.
You couldn’t stop staring.
Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.
After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.
His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”
You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.
You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.
Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.
Jungkook listened intently the entire time.
His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.
When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.
“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”
You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”
The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.
You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.
“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”
Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”
You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”
Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”
Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.
Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”
You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”
Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”
Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.
“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”
He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”
Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.
Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”
Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”
Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.
“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”
Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.
He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.
A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.
“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”
He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.
Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.
Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”
You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.
A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”
His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.
The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.
He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.
“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”
You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.
After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”
With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.
“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”
Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.
After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.
“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”
Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”
“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.
Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.
Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”
You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.
He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.
Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.
You were on cloud nine.
“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.
Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”
Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.
“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.
Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.
You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.
The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.
Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.
You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.
Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”
You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”
Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”
A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”
Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.
He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.
After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”
He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.
You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”
Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.
Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.
“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.
Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”
Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.
Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.
Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.
Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”
His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.
Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.
“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”
He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.
The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.
Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.
“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.
You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.
He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.
“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”
You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.
“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”
Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.
Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”
He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.
You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.
Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”
You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.
Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”
You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”
Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.
He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.
You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.
Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.
“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.
A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.
You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.
His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.
Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.
Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.
Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.
Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.
Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”
You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.
A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.
“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.
Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.
“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”
“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.
Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.
Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.
He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”
Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.
“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”
Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.
A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.
Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”
Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.
You were falling apart between them.
“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”
Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”
Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.
The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.
Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”
You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.
The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”
The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.
“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”
Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.
Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”
You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”
Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”
He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.
As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.
Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”
You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.
pairing: donor! jaehyun x client! reader I genre: smut | words: 12k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+
an: donor jaehyun is here and he’s super sweet! i think this is the most fun i had writing for this series hehehe ;) i just love me my valentine, roses, cheeky gentleman. anyways, i’ll stop talking now, it’s time to be taught how to touch! and figure it out! - with love, c
you eyed the coupon clutched in your hand, the glossy paper crinkling under your fingers. it’s your birthday gift from your friends, a prepaid session at that new clinic that’s been receiving all the hype since it opened a couple of months ago.
according to the reviews, the neo orgasm clinic has surpassed people’s expectations in every possible way. not just with how sleek their setup is or their promise of discretion but also — the donors themselves. effortlessly attractive. professional. patient. skilled in ways that leave clients lingering in their reviews, revealing just enough to make your ears burn.
and you know damn well you needed it.
twenty-something now and you’ve mastered the art of dodging real-life conversations about your sex life. it’s easy to laugh it off or pretend you know what your friends are talking about because in some way, you kind of do? i mean, you’ve read all about it! in books, in fanfictions. in fact, all the knowledge you have about sex probably comes from reading about it.
when it comes to real life though? you stall. every time — no awkward firsts. no impulsive decisions. not even quiet attempts on your own. just you, untouched and curious, stuck somewhere between knowing and experiencing.
the coupon’s tagline stares back at you, catching your eye for what feels like the hundredth time:
make your fantasies come true. book now. you deserve it.
you let out a quiet breath. because it’s not just the words. it’s the timing. the way it landed in your life like a question you’ve been avoiding finally demanding an answer.
you’ve already imagined it all — the rush of sensation you’ve only ever read about.
what would it feel like to finally chase that lust for real?
before you could second guess yourself, you pull up the clinic’s website on your laptop. you read through sections you pretend you’re only skimming. policies. confidentiality. client care.
then you take a huge breath before finally convincing yourself to click the appointment section.
✚ BOOK NOW ✚
“it’s just booking,” you murmur, under your breath, like saying it out loud will make it less real.
step 1: medical verification – a form requesting a recent full panel STI test within the last month.
your brows knit slightly. weirdly enough, even though you were an extra virgin, you had just gotten a recent check up — it was like another sign from the universe to continue on.
you upload your medical form with ease. the next page loads and your breath catches at the list.
step 2: sexual preferences & boundaries – check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries at all times.
your fingers tighten around your mouse, each click of a checkmark making your ears burn brighter than ever. your cursor moves. hesitates. selects. unselects. then selects again.
☑️ blowjob
☑️ clitoral stimulation
☑️ domination
☑️ dirty talk
☑️ fingering
☑️ guidance
☑️ hand job
☑️ kissing
☑️ masturbation
☑️ nipple play
☑️ oral
☑️ praise
☑️ vaginal penetration
you look at your final list. pretty tame considering you passed over more vulgar options like choking, spanking, vaginal fisting, threesome, toys, etc.
but even then, your list is still intimidating for a virgin.
step 3: why are you booking this appointment?
a blank box appears. you stare at it longer than you expected to. because suddenly — this feels personal. you compose your thoughts before finally typing:
“i’ve spent years lost in books about intimacy, learning every detail from pages that make my heart race. but i’ve never experienced it. no touches. no real connections. not even with myself. just endless curiosity and a longing to feel what i’ve only imagine. i’m hoping this can help me turn fantasy into something real. i want to finally awaken that part of me, guided by someone who knows what they’re doing.
you hit enter, the text saving with a soft confirmation.
step 4: choose your donor.
this should be the easiest part. you tell yourself that. just scrolling. just looking. just choosing the boy you imagine in all your books. nothing serious.
profiles load one by one. each polished. each composed. carefully written descriptions.
you scroll and scroll until —
jung jaehyun. the most valuable donor.
his photo catches your attention — handsome, sharp features, an inviting smile and dark hair falling just so. your pulse stutters and almost instinctively, you click on him.
his reviews were endless:
“jaehyun does a great job at adjusting to whatever you want!”
“if you’re nervous, choose him. gentle yet commanding, and the praise? leaves you floating.”
“he’s so pretty to look at and god…that voice…i was wet way before he even touched me.”
“jaehyun made me feel so special…incredibly patient, nothing felt rushed, it was perfect.”
“he lowkey broke my back but i would do it again”
“'he made my first time feel like a dream i didn't know i needed. so attentive. pure magic.”
“fuckkkkkkkkk, can everyone cancel their appointments with him so i can take all the days?”
“too. fucking. good.”
“if it's your first time in this clinic, or your first time in general, booking jaehyun is a guaranteed good time. 127/10 will cum again.”
every single one felt like a magnetic pull and before you could even realize what you were doing. you were inserting the coupon code and clicking BOOK NOW.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED
Donor: Jaehyun Jung
Date of Consultation: April 30, 2026
you stare at the screen, heart pounding, because it’s done. there’s no undoing it now.
✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚
the days leading up to today had been a blur of restless nights. you’ve checked the booking confirmation a dozen times just to check if it was real or if you somehow imagined the whole thing.
and now you’re here, heart hammering as you push through the doors.
the lobby envelops you immediately, a curated haven designed to soothe. soft golden light spills throughout the room, cream colored walls that were easy on the eyes, plush armchairs in neutral tones and the subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus. everything about it is calming, grounding, whispering relax with every breath you take.
but even then, your feet feel rooted to the spot, nerves twisting into knots. you have half the mind to turn and flee before anyone notices. but a voice calls out softly from the reception desk, smooth and reassuring.
“welcome to the clinic.”
you look up to see the receptionist, johnny, his nametag reads. he was sitting behind a computer, flashing you a warm smile as if he can sense the storm inside you. even he was handsome, and you’re pretty sure you saw his profile on the website with the words the first donor.
“you feeling nervous?,” he adds.
you try to laugh it off as you make your way over to him, but it comes out shaky, a breathy sound that betrays you, “y-yeah, this is new for me.”
he nods, no judgment in the motion. just understanding, “it’s new for a lot of people, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”
his words ease the tightness in your chest just a little bit.
“what’s your name?” he asks next.
“y/n l/n,” you manage, voice steadier now.
he types it in with a few clicks, his screen reflecting in his eyes as he pulls up your file.
“alright ms. y/n, donor jaehyun will be out in a few minutes,” he says, that smile returning, soft and encouraging, “in the meantime, please review your file then click agree if everything is okay. your consent is required for everything.”
he hands you a tablet carefully – the screen already glowing with your details. you take it with trembling fingers, murmuring a thank you as you retreat to one of the chairs. sinking into the cushions.
your thumb hovers over the agree button, ears burning red, pulse racing so loud you fear johnny could hear it. with a deep inhale, you finally tap it, the screen flashing with the words:
welcome to neo orgasm clinic.
you don’t know how many times you read it before the door to the right side of johnny opens and out steps the most valuable donor.
jung jaehyun.
he’s taller than you expected, his frame filling the space effortlessly, handsome in a way that steals your breath, his casual soft grey polo making him look softer than his large frame, while his dark hair falls slightly tousled, angling his face perfectly.
his pictures don’t do him justice. you’ve never seen a man more beautiful.
and the realization crashes over you, twisting your nerves into something sharper. you feel so nervous you think you might throw up, hands clammy against the tablet.
he makes his way over to you with unhurried steps.
“good afternoon,” he says, and fuck, those reviews were right. he’s only said two words and his voice, deep and smooth, has got you hooked. so hooked that you don’t even reply, just staring at him, mouth dry, brain short-circuiting under the weight of his proximity.
he tilts his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips, amused, like he’s trying to hide his laugh but the deep dimples carving into his cheeks give him away completely.
“are you ms. y/n?” he asks, fully smiling at you now, the expression lighting up his features and making your heart stutter.
you clear your throat, the sound awkward and too loud in the quiet lobby, “uhm–yeah, that’s me, sorry mr. jung…i’m so nervous i think i might pass out,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, heat flooding your face.
his eyes widen a bit at that, concern threading through, softening his gaze into something genuinely caring.
“c’mon, let’s get you some water,” he says, holding his hand out to you.
you hesitate for a split second, then place your hand in his, the warmth of his skin against yours making you even more nervous. he gives a gentle squeeze, just enough to guide and lead you towards one of the consultation rooms.
the door opens into another pocket of calm – neutral tones, a comfortable couch facing a low coffee table, an armchair across it and a small side table with a pitcher of water and glasses.
jaehyun releases your hand once you’re inside, gesturing for you to sit on the couch as he pours a glass of water for you. he hands it to you with another one of those dimpled smile, settling into the armchair across from you.
“take your time,” he says, sitting comfortably, the tablet now in his hands, “we can talk through everything at your pace. no rush.” his eyes meet yours patiently, waiting for you to find your footing in this new reality.
you sip the water slowly, the cool liquid steadying the flutter in your chest as you sink deeper into the couch, focusing instead on the vase of roses in the middle of the coffee table.
jaehyun sits across from you, his posture relaxed yet attentive. he’s scrolling through your file, his expression neutral, professional, but not cold. he’s taking way longer to read it than one should and you can tell he’s letting you get used to the space. to let the initial shock of his presence and this whole thing reside a bit.
minutes pass like that until he sets the tablet aside, looking up slowly, his gaze catching on the way you’re biting your lip, a nervous habit you can’t quite shake.
“y/n,” he calls out your name, softly, like the two of you are just friends catching up over coffee. the informality of it disarms you, pulling the air from the room into something warmer.
“i know this can be nerve-wracking,” he continues, his voice a low, reassuring hum, “are you sure you’re ready for this?”
he’s gentle. so gentle. it catches you off guard. you look at him, surprised. you were sure he was here to convince you to go through with it — after all, this is still a business. but…there’s no sales pitch in his tone.
“what?” you say, the word slipping out softer than intended, laced with confusion.
he just smiles at you, that dimpled curve returning patient and unforced.
“there’s no proper timeline to these kinds of things,” he explains, his words measured, like he’s sharing a quiet truth rather than reciting policy, “it’s your body. your life. your choice when you’re ready.”
you take his words in, letting them settle over the whirlwind in your mind, easing the knot of anxiety that's been building since you stepped through the clinic's doors.
“i-i am ready,” you admit, your voice gaining a touch of steadiness as you meet his eyes, “it’s just i…don't really know how to start this conversation.”
he nods, his expression shifting to one of quiet understanding. it’s as if he's seen this hesitation before, not as a hurdle to overcome, but as a natural part of the path.
“that’s okay,” he replies, his tone encouraging without pressure, “starting can be the hardest part. maybe we begin with what brought you here? your file mentions this is your first time exploring sex…what made you decide now?”
you hesitate for a moment. jaehyun’s eyes remain steady on yours like a quiet invitation to share as much or as little as you want.
“it was…a gift,” you start, “for my birthday…but i have been curious for a while…i just always held back. books and stories were enough,” you pause, glancing down at your hands, now folded in your lap, “but turning another year older made me realize i don’t want to just keep reading about it.”
“that takes real courage,” he says softly, “turning those stories into something real isn’t simple, especially when they’ve been your safe space for so long.”
his words land gently, validating the swirl of emotions you’ve kept bottled up and a faint smile creeps onto your lips, the first genuine once since you arrive.
“it does feel like the right time,” you reply, your voice steadier not, “the clinic’s reviews…and yours specifically…made it seem less intimidating. like it could be empowering instead of overwhelming.”
he smiles in return, “i’m honored that came through— our goal is to always create that sense of empowerment, no judgments, just support as you explore at your own rhythm.”
he glances briefly at the tablet in his hands, then sets it aside, focusing fully on you.
“it sounds to me like you’re interested in a gentle introduction without rushing into anything too intense. is that right? or has anything changed since filling out the form?”
you pause, letting his words sink in.
“no…that sounds right—i want to be taught, guided through it all, so i can experience every bit i’ve imagined.”
a subtle smile curves his lips, warm and knowing, as if he’s heard echoes of your words from others but savors the uniqueness in yours.
“i can definitely do that for you,” he replies, leaning forward a just a fraction, “i’ll guide you step by step, help you feel every sensation you’ve read about…all you have to do is show up.”
you nod slowly, every second gets more real than the last.
“would you like to proceed with booking your session?” jaehyun asks, a reassuring smile on his face. like it was okay and totally not a waste of his time if you chose not to.
“yes,” you nod after a while, “i would like to proceed.”
jaehyun’s eyes light up with a quiet approval, “perfect,” he says, his smile deepening, revealing those dimples that you can’t stop noticing, “how does may 3 work for you?”
may 3. just two days away. this is it – the threshold between fantasy and reality. it’s now or never.
“sounds good,” you say, your voice gaining a quiet strength, sealing the choice with a steady exhale.
“okay y/n, i’ll see you in two days,” he says, his voice carrying a subtle promise laced with the kind of steadiness that eases the last knots of doubt in your stomach.
and for the first time, the stories feel like previews to your own unfolding chapter, and you’re ready to turn the page.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Session: CONFIRMED
Client: Y/N L/N
Donor: Jaehyun Jung
Date of Session: May 3, 2026
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
you enter the lobby right on time, not a second too early and not a second too late. you’ve chosen comfort over anything flashy, dressed in slightly oversized grey sweats and an off the shoulder sweater hoping that it would make this feel more casual and not some grand event.
johnny greets you, “perfect timing, ms. y/n you can go ahead to the private rooms, jaehyun’s waiting for you in suite 14.”
you thank him, letting your feet carry you step by step, each one making your heart race wildly in your chest.
as suite 14 gets closer, it hits you then – you never once asked what to expect behind the door. no details on the setup. the realization sends a fresh wave of uncertainty but before it can pull you back, the door swings open.
and there’s jaehyun. looking every bit as handsome as before, except this time he looked like comfort—with the simple white t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and chest, paired with plaid pajama pants that hang low on his hips, making this feel like a lazy sunday rather than clinical encounters.
“hey y/n,” his dimples flash like a secret shared just for you, “come on in,” he says, tone warm and inviting, stepping aside to make space.
you return the smile, feeling the edges of your tension soften under the casual welcome.
you scan the room quickly — it was nothing like you imagined at all. just an average comfy bedroom, the kind you’d sink into after a long day. there’s a king sized bed draped in white sheets piled with soft pillows, a full length mirror tucked in the corner, plush carpet that muffled your steps and sultry music currently playing from somewhere.
the only thing that stands out, adding a layer of unexpected sweetness, are the vases brimming with fresh roses scattered throughout the room – on the nightstand, the dresser, the table against the wall – shades of deep red and soft pink, like a boyfriend had orchestrated this as a surprise for a quiet night in with his partner. it’s intimate, thoughtful and it tugs at something soft in your chest, making the space feel less like a session room and more like a private haven.
“you didn’t have a hard time getting here, did you?” jaehyun asks, his voice low as he closes the door behind you with a soft click.
he lingers there for a moment, watching you from behind as you take it all in, his shoulder lightly propped against the wall, giving you that space to breathe.
you turn toward his voice, “this is not what i expected at all,” you blurt, the words spilling out, “and no, i got here really easily.”
he smiles softly, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes as he pushes off the wall and takes a measured step towards you.
“do you like it? i noticed you were looking at the roses during our last meet up…thought it would help.”
you nod, a warmth blooming in your chest — god, he’s perfect. like the best romantic lead stepping straight out of your favorite book, all effortless charm and quiet insight.
“yeah…roses are my favorite.”
he nods in return, closing the distance with another step, his presence pulling you in without force.
“i didn’t think you’d notice,” you add.
he hums thoughtfully, “of course i noticed.”
duh, you think — that’s part of his job, being this attentive, tuning into every little detail about his client. you just weren’t aware he was already taking that many notes. plus the way he talks to you doesn’t make it feel like this was just his job.
he takes another step closer, the air between you thickening just a touch.
“i’m sure you already read the terms and conditions over and over,” he teases lightly, like you two were in on some inside joke because he knows your love for reading, “but just a quick reminder – nothing happens without your consent and we can stop whenever you want.”
he’s so close now that you can feel the subtle heat radiating from his body. he leans down, bringing his gaze level with yours, those deep brown eyes locking in with gentle intensity.
“are we clear on that?” he asks softly, and you catch the fresh mint on his breath, clean and inviting.
you bite your lip, nodding up and down, the motion automatic as your heart races.
“i’m gonna need words, love,” he says so casually, the endearment rolling off his tongue like it’s the most natural thing and — oh my godddd, this is really the start of your own fanfiction.
“yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel, “i know the rules.”
he brings his hand up then, palm open and inviting. you hesitate for just a heartbeat before slipping your hand into his, the warmth of his skin enveloping yours in a gentle grip that feels surprisingly reassuring.
he starts guiding you deeper into the room, his steps slow and unhurried. you thought he was heading straight for the bed like the next inevitable step in this unfolding scene. but when you walk right past it, your brows furrow, glancing up at him, confusion flickering across your face.
he catches your look and offers a small, knowing smile, releasing your hand only to lower himself against the side of the bed with casual ease. then he pats the space right in front of him, between his outstretched legs.
“are we gonna do it on the floor?” the question tumbles out – this isn’t how you pictured your first time to go. not when there’s a perfectly inviting bed just inches away.
he shakes his head, the motion gentle but firm, “no, not yet…come on,” he says, his voice light with encouragement, “i don’t bite,” he adds, the tease curling at the edges of his words, drawing a reluctant chuckle from you.
you finally take your seat, sliding into the space between jaehyun’s legs on the soft carpet.
as you settle, you realize the full-length mirror is positioned directly in front of you, reflecting the two of you in this intimate arrangement.
his hands find your shoulders then, fingers pressing in with a deliberate slowness, starting to massage the tension there in firm, circular motions that coax the stiffness from your muscles.
he pulls you back toward him gradually, giving you time to adjust, until your back completely melts against his chest, the solid warmth of him grounding you. the fabric of his white t-shirt brushes your skin where your sweater has slipped and you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your spine.
“relax, baby,” he murmurs, right by your ear, his breath warm and even, “you have to trust me for this to work.”
before you can respond, he lands a soft kiss just below your earlobe, the light press of his lips sending a shiver racing down your neck, making you hold your breath as goosebumps rise throughout your skin.
“you said you wanted to be taught,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, “and i’m here to teach.”
you exhale shakily, leaning into him a fraction more, the scent of his clean soap mingling with the faint floral notes from the roses. it’s overwhelming in the best way – his body a solid wall of warmth behind you, the mirror capturing every subtle shift.
his fingers pause on your arms, then one hand lifts gently to turn your head softly toward him like he’s handling something precious. he tilts your chin up, eyes locking into yours, dark and intent but softened by that reassuring smile.
“have you ever kissed anyone?”
you nod, the admission slipping out shyly, “a couple times…but…i was drunk each time.”
heat creeps up your cheeks but his expression doesn’t shift to judgment. he just nods in understanding, thumb brushing once along your jawline.
“just follow my lead, okay?”
the words are simple and before you can overthink it, he’s leaning in, closing the small distance to press his lips to yours, starting with slow, innocent pecks. each one is light, testing, feather-soft. your eyes flutter shut, the only thing in your mind is the warmth of his mouth.
then he deepens it, his lips sucking gently on yours, a little pull on the bottom one, then the top, drawing out the contact so each kiss lingers. the rhythm shifts, more deliberate, and when his tongue traces along the seam of your lips, memories from all those books flood back – the cues, the surrender.
you part your mouth open for him instinctively, inviting him in and he takes it with a low hum of approval that resonates against your chest. he tastes like toothpaste and vanilla chapstick and you're slowly coming to realize how kissing is so much better when you’re not just reading about it.
your hand lifts on its own, fingers threading into the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly in this awkward angle but enough to pull him closer.
the hand on your jaw moves then, trailing down your side with deliberate slowness, fingertips grazing the hem of your sweater before dipping beneath, skimming the bare skin of your waist.
he breaks the kiss off abruptly, both of you panting for air, his lips tingling and swollen. you wonder if yours matches his.
“arm’s up,” he instructs, voice roughened at the edges. you follow without question. he tugs the sweater up and off in one smooth motion, setting it aside and leaving you in your bra and sweats.
“look at you,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending another shiver through you. his chin settles over your shoulder giving you no choice but to stare ahead at the mirror. your reflection stares back — your face flushed pink, lips matching his, eyes wide with a mix of nerves and building heat.
his fingers move to the clasp of your bra, unbuckling it with a quick, practiced flick that loosens the straps instantly. he slides the fabric down your arms slowly, letting it drop to the carpet beside your sweater, the cool air hitting your bare skin and making your nipples harden immediately.
you watch your chest rise and fall in quick pants, each breath pulling your breasts up and down, the motion exposing the rush of heat flooding your body, the tangle of nerves twisting in your gut, the raw shyness of being this naked in front of someone else for the first time.
before you can completely shy away, his hands are right there again, palms flattening against your stomach, fingers splaying wide as he holds you steady against his chest, pressing just enough to remind you he’s in control.
“beautiful,” he whispers right into your ear, his breath hot and steady, and you can feel his gaze locked on your reflection, taking in every inch of you like he’s memorizing it.
then he reaches for one of your hands, his grip loose but insistent as he drags it upward, guiding your palm to cup your own breast, your fingers brushing the curve tentatively at first.
“touch yourself.”
his voice drops to a commanding timbre, low and rough. you hesitate for a split second, heart hammering, but the way he looks at you urges you on — your fingers curl slightly, squeezing the soft flesh, thumb grazing over your nipple experimentally. it hardens further under your touch, a spark of unfamiliar pleasure shooting through you, making you hold your breath.
he watches in the mirror, his free hand now inching lower toward your waistband, but he doesn’t push yet.
“just like that, pretty girl,” he encourages, voice softening just a touch, lips pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“squeeze a little harder — roll your nipple between your fingers. tell me what it does to you.”
your fingers tighten as instructed, the pressure sending a fresh wave of heat blooming across your skin, shooting straight down to your core, making your pussy clench emptily. the sensation is raw and new, like your body’s been holding back this fire until now.
“f-feels good,” you admit, your voice shaky and breathy, barely above a whisper.
“yeah, it makes you wanna moan, doesn’t it?” he teases, that small, playful smirk curling his lips, softening his commanding presence just a fraction, making him seem even more intoxicating.
you bite your lip hard, the sting grounding you as you nod, cheeks burning hotter than before.
“well, go on, let me hear those pretty sounds,” he urges, his tone dipping lower, his breath warm against your neck.
hesitation locks your throat, the idea of letting go like that in front of him feeling too exposed, too soon.
he senses it and without a word, one of his hands slides up from your stomach to take over your breast. his palm cups it fully, larger and rougher than your own touch, his thumb flicking your nipple up and down in quick, deliberate strokes.
the friction builds fast, a teasing rhythm that pulls a tiny, breathy moan from your lips before you can swallow it back, the soft sound betraying you completely, echoing in the quiet room. your head falls back against his chest at the rush of it, leaving you dizzy and wanting more.
“wanna feel even better?” he whispers, his voice a low rumble right by your ear, lips grazing the lobe as his other hand lingers at your waist, fingers hooking lightly into the band of your sweats.
all you can manage is a breathless, “please,” your body already arching subtly toward whatever comes next.
he doesn’t make you wait. his hands move with sure intent, tugging your sweats down your hips in one fluid pull, lifting your feet one by one to slide them off completely. they join the pile on the carpet, leaving you in just your underwear now — the thin cotton clinging damply between your thighs, the wet spot at the center impossible to ignore.
he reaches down and parts your legs wide, knees bending and lifting toward the ceiling like he’s opening you up for display. the view in the mirror is obscene and intimate, your bare breasts heaving with each pant, legs splayed shamelessly, his arms bracketing you like a frame.
his hands settle on your inner thighs, palms hot and steady, thumbs tracing lazy circles that inch closer to your core without touching yet, letting the anticipation coil tighter.
“look at how wet you are already,” he murmurs, nuzzling your neck as one hand drifts upward again to knead your breast, keeping that slow, rolling pressure on your nipple,
“now…,” he grabs one of your hands, sliding it down your body and stopping at the edge of your panties.
“i want you to use these fingers,” he taps on your pointer and middle finger, “—and rub yourself over your panties for me.”
his eyes meet yours in the reflection, dark with hunger but still holding back, waiting for you to follow.
your hand trembles slightly, finger hesitating at the edge of your underwear before dipping lower. you press two fingers against the damp fabric right over your clit, the cotton already soaked and clinging to your folds.
the first rub is testing, a slow circle that presses the material against your sensitive nub, a breathy moan escaping your lips – soft and needy, like a sigh you couldn’t hold back.
“that’s it,” he praises, his breath hot against your ear, watching intently as your fingers move, “just like that — feel how wet you are? circle it, press a little harder, figure out what makes you feel good.”
you obey, adding pressure as your fingers glide in tighter loops, the friction building heat that makes your hips twitch involuntarily. another moans slips out, a little louder this time, hitching as the sensation coils tighter in your belly, your pussy throbbing under the teasing barrier.
“good girl,” he whispers, leaving trails of kisses down your neck, “see how your body responds? you’re soaking right through — rub faster now, up and down.”
both of his hands are on your thighs now, his touch roaming.
your fingers continue to slide up and down the length of your pussy lips, the drag pulling a series of soft moans from you — each one higher, more desperate as the pressure mounts.
“mmm…oh,” you gasp when you hit a certain spot, your head lolling back against his shoulder.
“that's the spot – keep it there,” he chuckles slowly, the vibration rumbling through his chest into your back, “you’re doing so well…how does it feel?”
“s-so good,” you breathe out, voice shaky, as you continue rubbing over your clit, your free hand clutching at his arm for support.
“such a quick learner,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your panties teasingly.
his fingers gently stop yours, wrapping around your wrist with a firm but careful hold as he guides your hand away from your core. you let out a quiet moan in protest but it’s cut off when he speaks again, voice low and steady.
“you’re ready for more.”
then he hooks into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your thighs in one smooth motion, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. the fabric pools at your ankles, and you kick them aside instinctively.
“touch your bare pussy now, feel how wet you really are.”
his words sends a rush of embarrassment flooding to your cheeks, mixing hot with the arousal pooling low in your belly as you see it all laid out — your glistening entrance completely exposed to the cool air, clit swollen and begging for attention.
heart pounding, you let two fingers meet your bare skin, slipping easily through the wetness as you rub along your slit, tracing the soft, soaked lips from top to bottom. the direct contact is electric, no barrier to dull the sensation, and you moan louder, the sound raw and unrestrained.
“oh god… jaehyun,” you whine his name for the first time and the way it tumbles from your lips turns you on even more.
“hmm,” he hums in approval, leaning in to place a messy kiss on your shoulder, his lips lingering with a soft suck before pulling back.
“push one finger in now—slide it right along your entrance, feel how your pussy opens for it.”
you hesitate for a split second, then press one finger at your hole, pushing in slowly. the tight ring of muscle gives way with a wet squelch, your walls clenching around the intrusion as you sink deeper, inch by inch.
another tiny moan escapes you as you hold your breath. the fullness is strange but intoxicating, your finger buried to the knuckle inside your heat.
“good girl,” jaehyun praises, his breath warm against your ear, and you could feel your walls react around your digit.
“move it in and out now — slow strokes, tell me what you feel.”
you pump your finger experimentally, drawing it out before sliding back in, the drag pulling another moan from your throat, breathier and higher.
“mmm… it’s… warm…and—fuck—tight,” you gasp, the slick sounds echoing softly as you find a tentative rhythm.
“perfect — add the second one,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe, “push them both in together, stretch yourself a little.
swallowing hard, you ease a second finger alongside the first, the added thickness making your pussy stretch with a delicious burn.
“curl them up toward your belly — that’s the spot that’ll make you see stars.”
you thrust them deeper, curling as he said, the tips brushing a spongy patch inside that sends sparks shooting through you, exactly like he said it.
“jaehyun–,” you moan breathily, hips jerking forward into your hand as you start to pump, in and out, curling on every upstroke.
“fuck, yes — just like that,” he groans softly.
“keep curling, rub that spot hard. feel how your walls flutter? you’re learning so fast, baby,” his praises wash over you, punctuated by wet kisses and his warm hands roaming all over your skin
after a while, you start getting the rhythm of it all, instinct taking over as your body chases after the sensation — fingers plunging faster, curling with precision, thumb occasionally grazing your clit. soft moans continue to spill from you, your head falling back against his chest, thighs trembling as the pleasure builds like a wave.
“that’s it, my perfect girl,” he whispers, lips pressing fervent kisses along your neck and shoulders, anywhere his mouth can reach, tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“look at you fucking yourself so well — your pussy’s dripping down your hand. don’t hold back, chase it.”
but as the heat continues to rise, coiling tighter in your core, it starts to feel overwhelming, the intensity bordering on too much, your fingers falter, and — you stop abruptly, pulling them out halfway.
“fuck—wait,” you pant, chest heaving, a whine edge in your voice as you try to catch your breath.
“what’s wrong?” he asks immediately, voice laced with gentle concern as he lifts his head to meet your eyes in the reflection.
“my stomach felt weird,” you reply, cheeks burning with the admission, your fingers hovering uncertainly at your entrance.
he adores your innocence in that moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he presses a tender kiss to your jaw.
“good weird or a bad weird?”
“i don’t know… it felt…hot,” you explain, voice small and breathless, your body still thrumming with unmet need.
he smiles wider, another kiss landing on your flushed skin, “that just means you’re close.”
your eyes widen in the mirror, a mix of surprise and lingering uncertainty flashing across your face, “did i mess it up?”
he shakes his head no, his tone reassuring and firm.
“no. just touch yourself again for me and this time — don’t stop until i say so.”
nodding, you slide your fingers back inside — two at once, curling right away as he taught you, resuming the rhythm, pumping steadily, the heat reigniting almost instantly. desperate moans pour from you now as the coil tightens again, faster this time, your pussy clenching rhythmically around your digits.
but when the the pressure builds to an unbearable peak —
“jaehyun… it’s… too–” you try to pull your hand away again, whimpering.
he doesn’t let you this time.
his large hand coming over yours, keeping your fingers buried deep inside as he holds you in place.
“shhh, stay with it — i've got you,” he murmurs.
his other hand slipping down to rub at your clit in firm, tight circles, pressing just right to push you over.
“let it happen, cum for me.”
the sensation completely shatters you — your walls tightening around your digits — and your first orgasm ever crashes through you so hard you can’t even contain yourself anymore, the sounds spilling out raw and desperate, echoing in the quiet room.
“ahh—jae—fuck!”
you cry, the words breaking into a high-pitched keen as your body arches off his chest, your toes curling tight against the carpet, eyes rolling back, vision blurring with stars, as your thighs clamp down around his hand, trapping him there. the pleasure pulses hot and endless, flooding every nerve until you're shaking uncontrollably, slick gushing over your fingers.
jaehyun holds you through it all, his arm banded securely around your waist to keep you from bucking too wildly, his free hand still working your clit in slowing strokes to help you ride the waves.
“that’s it, love — feel every bit of it,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along your temples, grounding you as the tremors start to fade.
he slows his fingers gradually, letting the aftershocks ripple through you, your pussy fluttering weakly around your buried digits until the intensity fades to a warm, satisfied glow.
your breaths come in ragged pants, body limp and heavy against him, sweat-damp skin sticking to his shirt. finally, your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused at first, meeting his gaze in the mirror — dark eyes full of pride and something deeper, more possessive.
with a gentle tug, he guides your hand out of your pussy, your fingers emerging slick and shining with your cum, the wet pop audible in the stillness.
“look at yourself, look at your pretty pussy,” he instructs, voice husky and commanding, as he lifts your hand between you.
your eyes snap to the reflection, cheeks flushing anew at the sight — your thighs splayed wide, pussy flushed and puffy, entrance gaping slightly from the stretch, glistening with arousal that drips down toward your ass.
you watch, mesmerized, as he brings your slick digits up to his lips, parting them to take them inside his mouth. his tongue swirls around your fingers, sucking deliberately, drawing your cum off them with slow, savoring pulls — hollowing his cheeks like it's the sweetest treat he's ever had.
you stare wide eyed, arousal stirring fresh despite the exhaustion, a new heat blooming in your belly as you watch him devour your juices.
the way his eyes lock on yours, the soft hum of approval vibrating against your skin — it's filthy and captivating, making you wonder how it tasted, what it felt like on his tongue.
“how does it taste?” you ask, finally finding your voice, breathy and tentative, your gaze flicking from his mouth to his face.
he smirks, releasing your fingers with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting them briefly before he licks his lips, “you want to know?”
you nod, heart racing again, curiosity overriding any lingering shyness.
without a word, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss — deep and unhurried, his tongue sliding past your lips to share the flavor, your own arousal coating his mouth as he explores yours.
you moan softly into it, tasting yourself on him, the intimacy of it sending a shiver down your spine as his free hand strokes your thigh soothingly, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin.
the kiss deepens, growing hungrier, his tongue stroking yours in firm sweeps while you tilt your head for more.
you shift, turning around in his arms for a better angle, rising onto your knees between his spread legs, hands sliding up his chest over the thin shirt. your fingers catch the hem, tugging insistently, suddenly aware he’s still fully clothed while you’re completely exposed.
jaehyun breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it off swiftly over his head, tossing it aside with your clothes, revealing the sculpted ridges of his eight pack abs — hard, defined lines flexing under smooth skin, a dark happy trail snaking from his navel down and sharp v-lines disappearing into his pants.
you pause, eyes widening as you admire him, one hand trailing down his abs, “god…i don’t think any fictional man can compare anymore,” you murmur, voice laced with awe.
he laughs low and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest, clearly enjoying this bolder side of you over the earlier nerves.
“good thing i’m real and all yours,” he winks, dimples flashing as he pulls you back in for another kiss, lips claiming yours with renewed heat.
“all mine…for another hour or two,” you tease breathlessly when you pull back, a playful glint in your eyes.
his dimples deepen then, eyes darkening with amusement and desire, “let’s not waste a second then,” he teases.
“that would be a shame,” you say quietly, a smile curving your lips before your graze drifts lower, lingering on the thick bulge straining against his plaid pajama pants.
“you can take it off, you know?” he says, reading your mind, his hand guiding yours to the waistband.
you nod, cheeks heating as you shyly hook your fingers in and slide the pants down his hips, exposing the black boxers that do nothing to hide his impressive length – thick and throbbing visibly beneath the thin material.
“take that off for me too, sweet girl,” he instructs, voice firm and coaxing, eyes locked on yours.
you obey without hesitation, palms sliding up his thighs before tugging the boxers down, watching as his cock springs up immediately — heavy and erect, veined shaft curving slightly upward, the flushed head already beading pre-cum.
he lifts his hips to help, kicking the pants and boxers off and you can’t help but gulp at the sight of him fully exposed. with your pulse racing, you reach out without asking, fingers wrapping around his length at the base.
his hips buck up sharply into your grip, a low grunt escaping his throat as you surprisingly squeeze experimentally, feeling him twitch and harden further in your palm.
“what are you thinking about?” he asks, noticing your silence.
“i’m comparing it to my fingers,” you say quietly, stroking once from base to tip before meeting his gaze straight on, “this is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
jaehyun slowly guides your hand towards his mouth, eyes on yours the whole time when he lets his spit slowly drool from his lips to your palm. it’s vulgar and messy and it makes your head spin.
then he brings your hand back down to his cock, guiding you into a slow pump along his shaft, his abs tightening under where your other palm rests.
“it might sting at first, yeah—especially since you’re new to this,” he admits honestly, making your thumb circle the sensitive underside of the head with your joined hands, smearing his pre-cum down the length, “—but i’ll go slow, make sure you’re wet and ready. you’ll take me like you were made for it…until you’re begging for it.”
his words send fresh heat flooding your core, pussy clenching emptily as you watch your hand glide over his cock. he groans softly, hips rolling up into each stroke, free hand tangling in your hair to tilt your face up.
“keep stroking me like that, twist your wrist at the top.”
you follow his guidance, earning a grunt from him.
“yeah—fuck, baby, just like that.”
it’s hot. he’s hot. the sounds he makes are hot.
you pump faster, mesmerized by him, feeling his cock throb thicker in your fist. his breaths grow ragged, eyes half lidded as he watches you, then pulls you up for a messy kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with your strokes.
his hand leaves yours, sliding down your back to cup your ass firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lifts you up slightly. your knees spread wider on the carpet, ass rising into the air, pussy exposed and dripping from behind.
and without warning, he presses one long finger against your slick entrance and pushes inside, stretching your walls with a single smooth thrust.
you moan loud into the kiss as your grip on his cock tightens, strokes pausing mid-pump while you adjust to the intrusion.
it’s so much different from fingering yourself — his finger is thicker, longer, moves with purpose you can’t anticipate.
he drags it out slow, then slams back in, curling deep against that soft spot inside, sending sparks exploding through your nerves.
you try your best to resume pumping his cock, hand jerking unevenly along the slick length, but the sensation overwhelms you. after a few shaky strokes, you give up, fingers digging into his muscular thigh for anchor as your mouth hangs open against his, breaths panting hot and desperate.
he breaks the kiss to nip at your jaw, lips brushing your ear as he whispers praises, voice rough and commanding, “so fucking tight—you like that, don’t you? like it when my fingers fuck you like this.”
his digit pumps faster, plunging in and out with wet squelches, thumb now circling your swollen clit in firm presses.
and god, the not knowing makes it so much better — when he’ll curl, when he’ll thrust, when he’ll grind his palm over your clit.
nothing registers but him finger-fucking you — the stretch, the heat, the relentless pressure building low in your belly.
“you’re so wet baby, this pussy is ready to take me,” he grunts, adding a second finger without mercy, scissoring them wide to open you up, knuckles bumping your entrance as he dives deeper.
you’re a goner. your head falls to the crook of his neck, nose buried in his skin, teeth clenched, body seizing as your second orgasm crashes over you just like that. your walls clamp down hard on his fingers, creaming all over his hand, the fresh slick dripping down your thighs. your cries are muffled against his shoulder as your hips buck wildly onto his palm, chasing every brutal thrust through the waves.
jaehyun doesn’t stop, his free arm banding around your waist to hold you steady as you tremble and spasm.
“fuck, that’s it—soak my fingers, sweet girl,” he praises, watching your body shake through the mirror.
your breaths come in shattered gasps, body going limp in his hold as the aftershocks ripple through you.
he eases his fingers out slow, then brings them to your lips, “taste yourself,” he murmurs, pushing the soaked digits past your parted mouth.
you suck obediently, tongue lapping at your own release, eyes fluttering up to meet his heated gaze.
he groans at the sight, cock jerking visibly, “now get on the bed—it’s time for the real lesson.”
your eyes widen slightly, pulse racing at his words, but at this point you’re so ready for this — your body practically begging as your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled.
you push up on shaking legs, knees wobbly from the orgasms, turning toward the bed. before you can climb on and sit down — jaehyun’s large, strong hands grip your hips, spinning you around fast. his lips crash onto your again, kissing you hungrily.
he walks you backward step by step, guiding you onto the bed. your back meets the soft sheets, sinking into the plush mattress as your legs part on instinct, thighs spreading wide. he settles between them heavy and hot, his muscular frame caging you in, his rock hard cock dragging teasingly along your inner thigh.
jaehyun breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your jaw, to your neck, sucking hard enough to mark the skin red, drawing out a sharp moan from you.
he moves to your breasts next, mouth closing over one nipple, tongue flicking the peak before sucking on it. your body arches off the bed, pressing your chest into his face, the pull shooting straight to your core.
“jaehyun—,” you moan, the sensation so new and overwhelming in the best way possible. he switches sides, lavishing the other nipple with the same attention — suck, bite, soothe with his tongue — leaving behind a couple of dark hickeys blooming purple on your skin.
finally, he pulls back, sliding down your body until he’s on his knees. one hand wanders flat over your stomach, tracing down to your hips, then dipping to your inner thigh until his fingers reach your pussy lips, parting them open and exposing your dripping entrance and throbbing clit to the cool air.
you watch him the entire time, breath held, excitement buzzing through your veins like electricity.
jaehyun grips his cock at the base, sending you a playful smirk before he guides the flushed head up through your folds – but not inside.
he slides it along your slick, coating himself in your arousal, then swirl the tip around your clit in lazy circles, letting you feel him skin to skin.
the pressure edges you mercilessly, building that coil together once again. you whine high and desperate, hips bucking up to chase the friction, needing more.
“please….jaehyun.”
he smiles down at you, dimples flashing wickedly, eyes locked on your pleading face.
“gotta make sure you’re nice and wet, sweet girl.”
he doesn’t give in just yet. tapping his cock against your clit — once, twice, three times — each tap leaving you wanting more. then he drags down your folds again, nudging your hole but pulling back every time, teasing the stretch.
your whines turn to full begging, thighs trembling, your pussy getting wetter and wetter with ever second.
when he finally deems you ready, he leans over to snatch the condom on the nightstand, ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling the latex down his length with practiced ease, the sight making your mouth water. you had no idea who you were anymore, all you know is that you needed him. badly.
he crawls back up, face hovering inches from yours, “ready?” he asks, voice softer than it’s been the whole night, his cock nudging right at your entrance, the tip kissing your hole.
you nod frantically, hands going to the nape of his neck.
“yes—please, jaehyun, i need to feel you inside me.”
he doesn’t make you beg anymore after that, pressing forward slowly, the thick head of his cock breaching your tight ring with a wet pop, stretching you inch by burning inch.
it burns so good, fuller than his fingers, your walls yielding reluctantly to his size as he sinks deeper. you’re thankful he took the time prepping you because you can’t even imagine he’d fit if you weren’t this wet.
you shut your eyes tight, hissing sharp at the slight sting of the stretch.
jaehyun notices immediately, hips stuttering just a fraction, “you’re doing so well, love – almost there,” he grunts low, voice strained as he fights his own urges.
you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet and it feels like heaven and torture rolled into one because he knows you’re a virgin — knows he has to go slow, let you savor it.
once he bottoms out, his balls snug against your ass, he stills completely, giving you a long moment to adjust to the impossible fullness splitting you open, your pussy fluttering wild around him. he peppers your face with soft kisses, a tender contrast to the raw stretch.
you open your eyes, a little watery from the intensity and he thumbs away a tiny tear before it can fall, gaze locked soft on yours.
“you still with me?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin.
you nod quick, but he tilts his head, dimples faint in that patient smile, “what did i say about words?”
“i’m with you,” you confirm, voice breathy, hands clutching his biceps.
“i’m gonna move now, okay?”
“okay,” you whisper, pulse thundering.
he starts thrusting slow, pulling out halfway then pushing back in with a smooth roll of his hips, letting you get used to the drag.
the pain starts subsiding quick, morphing into sparks of pleasure that bloom deep in your belly, your body starting to react to it as your hips buck up instinctively to match his slow rhythm, chasing more.
“faster, please,” you plead, voice wrecked.
he obliges without question, picking up the pace slightly.
he hikes one of your legs higher, hooking it over his waist, opening you wider — and then he’s hitting it. every snap of his hips grinding right against that spot inside. you moan loud, unrestrained, the sound ripping from your throat.
“yeah, there we go, baby, let me hear you — you sound so fucking pretty,” he praises, voice rough with lust, urging you on as sweat beads on his temple.
“right there, right there, right there, please jaehyun—,” your whines mixes with your moans, hands wrapping around his torso, nails scraping his back to pull him closer.
he knows exactly what you need, his cock slamming that spot deeper — relentless, pounding now.
you’ve never felt anything like it, pleasure coiling vicious and hot, building to a peak that whites out your vision.
you last a couple more thrusts, walls clamping down hard before your third orgasm crashes through you fully. your entire body heats up, pussy spasming wild around his cock, mouth falling open in a breathless moan, the feeling of raw ecstasy making your eyes shut tight while stars burst behind your lids, limbs locking and trembling in his grip.
“that’s it, baby, fuck—you’re coming so hard for me,” jaehyun praises you through it, his hips grinding deep to drag out every pulse.
“look at you, creaming all over my cock, squeezing me so tight — perfect little pussy.”
you barely have time to catch your breath and process the fact that you’re no longer a virgin when jaehyun pulls out with a wet slide, your empty pussy clenching around nothing, as your release slides out of your hole and down to your ass crack.
you hear the sharp snap of latex being yanked off and tossed aside. and the next second – jaehyun’s hovering over you – on his knees, his length obscene and huge, flushed dark and throbbing, veins bulging. he taps the swollen head onto your parted lips.
“wider,” he commands, tone firm, eyes dark with hunger.
he definitely fucked you stupid because you obey instantly, parting your lips wider, tongue flicking out instinctively.
“good girl,” he praises low, dimples flashing wicked before he shoves his cock down your throat in one smooth thrust. it hits the back of your throat immediately, making you gag hard, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth.
you think back to all those books, the smut you devoured, and you’re prepared for this more than you thought — you force your jaw to slack, relaxing the muscles as much as possible, breathing raggedly through your nose and ignoring the tears welling fast, blurring your vision, as you let jaehyun fuck your mouth.
his hips snap forward, grunts and groans rumbling deep from his throat, so hot they vibrate straight to your core. you could listen to him forever — that raw, animalistic sound of need. it makes you horny again, pussy clenching empty, aching fresh, thighs rubbing together for some comfort.
you almost can’t believe you’ve avoided sexual acts for this long and now you have a man balls deep in your throat in the same hour you lost your virginity.
but fuck, you wouldn’t change a thing.
this was all your fanfictions exploding into reality and it’s so much hotter — thicker, messier, real sweat and musk and stretch.
jaehyun’s abs clench tight above you, “nngh–,” a low sound rattles in his throat, somewhere between a moan and a growl, “i’m gonna cum—fuck.”
he’s losing his bearings, his thrusts turning erratic and sloppy. you feel him start to pull back and it’s almost sweet how he doesn’t want to force you to swallow his cum when he’s already choking you with his cock — but your desire is ravenous, your hands shooting up to grip his ass cheeks firmly, nails digging in to yank him deeper, holding him in place. you suck harder, hollowing your cheeks, tongue swirling frantically around him.
“oh—god,” he groans, head tipping back, “you dirty, dirty girl.”
he grabs a fistful of your hair tightly, yanking your head steady as your tearful eyes lock on his — blown pupils, jaw slack, pure feral lust.
“you better swallow every drop,” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice breaking, and then he’s erupting — hot ropes pulsing straight down your throat, thick and endless. you gulp it down greedily, not spilling a bit, throat working around him until he’s spent and shuddering above you, cock twitching with aftershocks.
jaehyun finally pulls out slow, slick strands of spit and cum connecting your lips to his tip before snapping free.
you let yourself cough for a bit, finally regaining air in your lungs as he slides back down your body.
“so good for me, taking it all like that – my perfect girl,” he praises, caressing your face gently before capturing your mouth in a deep kiss, tasting himself in you.
“who taught you how to suck somene off like that, huh?” he teases, eyes sparkling wickedly as he props on his elbows, his body against yours.
you smile shyly, cheeks burning hot, biting your lip.
he grins wide, dimples carving deep, already knowing, “those books are that good?” he asks, voice playful.
you laugh bright, playfully shoving his shoulder, “yeah, well, the writers are pretty damn amazing.”
he quirks a brow high, smirk tugging, “anything else they write about that you want to try?” he waits, gaze intense, hand tracing lazy circles on your skin.
“i—uhm,” you start, voice soft, “i kinda want to ride you.”
he chuckles deep, hand roaming down your hip, squeezing the curve firm, “you gotta give me five minutes, love,” he says playful, making you laugh again, the tension easing into giddy warmth.
you’re thankful he’s not making this whole thing a bigger deal than it has to be, that he’s not treating you like something breakable just because it’s your first time.
“do they write about how it feels to be eaten out?” he smirks slow, breaking you out of your thoughts.
you nod quick, pulse racing fresh.
“let me know if the writing is as good as the actual thing,” he says teasingly.
and then he’s shifting down, strong hands spreading your thighs wide, hooking under your knees to pin you open. his breath ghosts hot over your soaked pussy before his tongue flattens, licking a long stripe up your slit from your hole to your clit, lapping your juices clean.
your head sinks deep into the pillow, back arching sharp, body reacting immediately to his touch,“god—jaehyun,” you whine high, hands flying down to grip his dark hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.
he groans into you, vibration humming straight to your core and dives in hungrily — lips sealing around your clit, sucking, tongue flicking rapid circles around the sensitive bud. your hips buck up desperately, grinding your folds against his face, chasing the pressure.
he eats you out filthily, nose bumping your clit as his tongue thrusts in, slurping every drip of your arousal. spit and cream smear his chin, dripping down.
your thighs quake around his head, heels digging into the mattress, your grip tightening in his hair as that spark builds low in your belly once again.
“jae—fuck, yes,” you gasp, legs trembling now, toes curling into the sheets.
he presses his face deeper and you shatter hard, your fourth orgasm crashing through you like fire, pussy spasming as you squirt tiny bursts against his mouth.
jaehyun drinks it down, sucking your pulsing clit to drag out every throb. your back arches off the bed, cry ripping raw from your chest, as you push his head off of you, giving yourself a moment to breathe.
his lips are glistening with your release, eyes dark and smug as he crawls beside you, sitting against the headboard as he caresses your hair.
“better than the book, yeah?” he murmurs playfully, earning an eye roll and a tired laugh from you as you calm your racing pulse.
“still wanna ride me, baby?” he asks, voice low and coaxing.
you look up at him then. in truth, you’re feeling tired, but on the other hand, you still wanted to feel it.
“c-can i?” you ask shyly.
he nods, thumb stroking your cheek, “of course you can, anything you want to do, love.”
he reaches for another condom on the nightstand. you sit up now, watching him move.
“can i put it on you?”
he gives you a soft smile, handing it over, “yeah, here.” his hand covers yours, showing you how to pinch the tip and slide it down smooth over his hard cock until it hugs him tight.
once it’s on, he guides you over his lap to straddle him, thighs spreading wide around his hips, “now…just grip the base of me like this,” he says, wrapping your fingers around his cock, steady and thick in your palm, “and sit whenever you’re ready.”
you nod, heart pounding, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. you take a soft breath before slowly, pushing down, the stretch burning sweetly.
“oh—shit,” you moans, sinking lower inch by inch, the new angle making you feel him even more, “oh my god—you feel so big.”
he tries to hide his smirk as his hands settle on your waist, rubbing soothing circles, letting you control the drop.
“take your time, sweet girl—you can do it,” he praises. then his mouth latches onto one nipple, lips sucking softly and sweetly.
and fuck, there’s a reason why he’s the most valuable donor.
you whimper, hips dipping further, taking half of his length now, walls clenching greedy around the invasion. he switches nipples, sucking the other into wet heat, humming approval that vibrates through your chest.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans against your skin, one hand sliding up your back to pull you closer, the other kneading your ass.
you continue until your ass meets his thighs and he’s buried balls deep, the fullness stealing your breath, pussy stuffed full and pulsing around him.
you pause there, panting, adjusting to his size. jaehyun kisses between your breasts, up to your neck, murmuring, “move when it feels good, yeah? bounce or grind—whatever you need.”
his words sink in, a gentle push to explore and figure out what your body likes.
you lift your hips slowly, slick pussy dragging up his shaft, then sink back down slow, the friction sparking fresh heat low in your belly.
then you try grinding circles next, your clit pressing firm against his pubic bone, cock buried deep and still. a soft moan slips out at that — your body likes this roll, the way it rubs that inner wall just right.
he watches close, eyes locked on your face, hands loose on your hips. and you can’t help it, he’s just so handsome and patient and everything you wanted this to be. you lean forward, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss, moaning into it as you grind harder. each second builds pressure, pussy clenching around his thickness, learning the rhythm that makes your thighs quiver.
“that’s it, baby—fuck yourself on my cock—you love it don’t you?” he breathes against your lips, still letting you lead.
“f-feels s-so full, jaehyun,” you admit in moans, bouncing slightly now, moans pouring into his mouth louder while your hips chase that rising coil, your sweat beads on your skin, tits brushing his chest with every grind.
the heat swells fast again, that now familiar ache demanding more. you rock frantically, your pace faltering as your thighs start to burn. whines escape between kisses, desperate little sounds that demand more.
“what do you need, love? tell me,” he asks, his voice husky, though his smirk says he already knows.
“need it faster—please,” you whine, nails digging into his chest.
that flips the switch.
he plants your heels firm into the mattress on either side of his hips, “hold here,” he says, guiding your hands up to grip his shoulders tight. then he takes over — hips snapping up at a punishing pace, each thrust slamming into the spot that whites out your vision, his grip on your hip hot and bruising.
you moan louder than you thought you could, your raw cries bouncing off the walls as the sound of skin slapping wet and loud fills your ears.
soon enough, your knees buckle as you collapse against his chest. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow — his strong hands grips your ass cheeks, bouncing you up and down his cock easily.
“jaehyun—fuck!”
your pussy stretches around every ruthless plunge, walls fluttering wild. he grunts by your ear, breath hot on your neck, cock throbbing thicker inside you.
“i’m–i’m gonna cum—,” you scream between clenched teeth, body seizing as the edge crashes, bringing you to your fifth orgasm.
“that’s it, baby—squeeze me just like that,” he growls low in your ear as you shatter completely, pussy convulsing violently around him, juices gushing down his shaft, pushing him to his own orgasm. he thrusts deep one last time, his cock pulsing hard as he fills the condom with thick ropes of cum.
you’re both wrecked, panting, locked together. his arms wrap tight around your back as he kisses your shoulder.
“so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, holding you close through the aftershocks.
you stay like that for a while, his hand stroking your back in lazy circles, letting you catch your breath and piece your scattered mind back together. the fullness is almost comforting, warm inside, a reminder of how thoroughly he wrecked you.
you lift your head finally, meeting his gaze, his eyes soft and searching, “you okay?” he asks, thumb brushing your cheek.
you nod, a shy smile tugging at your lips, “that was—i don’t know how that’s going to be topped…you may have set the standards too high for real men,” you say, laughing softly.
he laughs with you, deep and warm, his hand sliding up to rub your arm up and down, his soft cock still buried inside you.
“well, i’ll be here if you ever need your standards met,” he winks, smile widening, those dimples carving deep into his cheeks.
and you can’t resist it anymore — your finger reaches up sweetly, poking one dimple gently. his expression shifts to amused shock, brows lifting playfully as he catches your hand and landing a kiss on your fingertip.
“thank you,” you say sweetly, “i couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”
he pulls you down for a kiss then, soft and slow, lips moving tenderly against yours, “thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs when he pulls back as you two share a smile.
“let’s get you cleaned up.”
you nod, finally hopping off him, your pussy clenching empty around nothing, juices spilling down between your thighs, already missing that thick stretch as his cock slips free with a wet slide.
he pulls the condom off, tying it off quick before tossing it to the bin, then guides you with a hand at your lower back toward the door leading to the bathroom, your legs feeling like jelly below you.
“one last lesson,” he says smirking, “you need to pee.”
you laugh, the sound light and bubbly, “got it, i have read about that.”
he laughs then, eyes crinkling at the corners, “you gotta send me these books you’re reading…i might learn a thing or two,” he jokes, handing you a soft towel from a stack on the counter.
“go ahead, i’ll get your clothes,” he says before giving you a bit of privacy as he saunters back into the bedroom to pick your clothes off the ground.
you look at your reflection in the mirror and yeah, it does kinda scream that you just got railed in the best way possible.
you do your thing — wiping the sticky mess from your thighs before finally sitting on the toilet. you wash up softly, your pussy still throbbing tenderly, swollen lips aching sweet from the stretch and friction.
he knocks softly before peeking in, he’s back in his clothes now too while your clothes and underwear are draped over his arm.
“all good?” he asks, stepping in to lay them on the counter.
“yeah,” you say, taking the clothes, and slipping into it.
he turns away politely and it’s cute considering how he’s the only person to ever see and touch your body intimately.
you step out of the bathroom fully dressed and he walks over to you, placing his hand up, palm open just like how this all started.
“ready to head out?”
you nod, placing your hand in his, warm and steady. he leads you out the door of suite 14 and into the hallway back to the lobby, his fingers laced loosed with yours. as you’re walking, he pulls out a single red rose that he tucked between his pajama pants like the cheeky, cheeky man he is.
“for you ms. y/n.”
you try to hide your smile, cheeks warming, “thank you, mr. jung,” you giggle, taking the rose from him, the symbolism of the flower making you laugh inside – how poetic.
“is it always this sweet here?” you ask, twirling the stem between your fingers.
“it depends on the client,” he says honestly, dimples deepening as he glances sideways.
“has anyone fallen in love with a client before?” you ask, head already swrling with romantic fantasies.
he pauses to think for a bit, “i don’t think so…but i wouldn’t put it as past us,” he says rationally, “we are still human after all.”
you nod at that. then you make it to the door that leads to the lobby.
“well…johnny will take care of you now,” he says, releasing your hand, “thank you for choosing me, ms. y/n,” he smiles then, releasing your hand softly just to offer it out again for handshake.
you take it, shaking his hand, “i couldn’t have chosen a better donor,” you say softly.
then, just when you thought it was over – he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles, the brush of his mouth sending a final spark through your skin.
“come back whenever you want,” he says, sending you a playful wink, dimples flashing one last time before finally letting you step back into the lobby, your heart fluttering quietly in your chest as the door to the private suites closes behind you.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
“welcome back,” johnny says lightly, pulling you back to reality as you walk up to the reception desk.
“how was suite 14?”
you grip the rose tighter between your fingers, body and mind still humming from jaehyun, “perfect,” you admit shyly, cheeks heating.
johnny nods approvingly, a small smile on his lips, “jaehyun’s got that effect.”
then he’s sliding a black bag towards you. you eye it suspiciously, curiosity piqued.
“a gift from us,” johnny says, eyes twinkling, “a little thank you for giving us a chance.”
you smile, grabbing the bag and thanking him before finally stepping out of the clinic and into the cool evening air.
you slide into the driver’s seat of your car, exhaling long and slow, processing everything that just happened. your body aches in the best way, the faint musk of sex clinging to your skin.
you checked the inside of the bag to find a folded white hoodie with the words ORGASM DONOR in bold letters across the chest. a laugh bubbles up from your chest, genuine and light, cutting through the post-sex haze.
you pull your phone out then, pulling up the neo orgasm’s clinic website to leave your own review:
“jaehyun is every swoon-worthy romantic lead i’ve ever read and so much more. a patient teacher, a dominant lover, the most perfect donor who made this virgin’s first time a bestseller. if your fantasies live between the lines, book him. you’ll beg for the sequel.”
✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚
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18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
an: DADA IS HOMEEEEEEEEE 🫦🫦 i have survived my first military wife era!!!!!!!!!!!!!!🏆🏅….i hope you loved donor jaehyun! i wanted to make him real sweet and a quiet dom for this one,, please tell me you see the visionnnn! and please let me know what you think <333 — again, a kind reminder: this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! please don't take it too seriously :)
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
pairing: donor! best friend! johnny x client! best friend! reader | genre: smut | words: 10k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+ inappropriate use of a doctor’s examination table, clitoral stimulation, domination, dirty talk, fingering, hair-pulling, kissing, nipple-play, brief! oral sex, raw sex, rough sex, size kink! multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting, use of pet names: baby, doctor, doll
an: donor johnny is finally here! the layout for this doesn’t follow the usual of the previous orgasm donors which is why the warnings are already included above. you’ll understand why i had to do it this way as you read. without further ado, i give you the first donor - with love, c.
✚ THE BUSINESS PROPOSAL ✚
“what if i told you my friends and i’ve got this idea. something big. revolutionary, even,” johnny said, voice low and serious.
you arched a brow, setting your phone aside, as you look up at him from your shared couch, “revolutionary? like curing world hunger revolutionary, or your usual ‘let’s invent the next uber but for tacos’ revolutionary?”
he chuckled, leaning in, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled like some ceo in a boardroom, “no, this is different. it’s about women. helping women, specifically…making sure they get what they deserve.”
you eye him warily, “that sounds like a threat…spit it out, suh.”
he took a deep breath, glancing away for a second as if mentally preparing himself. when he looked back, there was this fire in his gaze mixed with amusement.
“a clinic. called the orgasm donors. founded by me and the guys, you know who they are — we’d be the donors, of course. women will come in, pay for the service and we guarantee they leave satisfied. no strings, no bullshit. just pleasure.”
the words hung in the air, thick and electric, your mind racing to process. was he serious? a clinic for…orgasms? like some upscale spa, but instead of massages, it was…this?
“johnny, what the actual fuck?”
you finally managed, half-laughing because it had to be a joke, “you’re telling me you and your boys want to open a sex clinic? like, hookers with a business license?”
he didn’t even flinch, “not hookers. donors.” his voice dropped to that husky timbre that always made you listen a little too closely, “it’s consensual, empowering. think about it. how many women go unsatisfied? we’d change that. discreet, safe, guaranteed results. and yeah, paid. but it’s not just about the money, it’s about fixing a real problem,” his hands gestured, emphasizing every point, his passion a little too infectious.
you shifted on the couch, “and you’re….what? the poster boy for this? the first donor?”
a grin tugged at his lips, slow and wicked, “damn, right. but…every idea needs a trial run…someone to test the waters, make sure it works before we go public.”
“test the waters,” you mumble, your brain already connecting the dots, knowing exactly where your best friend’s mind is headed, “with…who?”
his eyes softened, but that cheshire smirk on his lips never wavered, “well…that’s why i’m telling you about it, i was hoping you could test it out?”
you laughed. loudly. awkwardly. the sound burst out, sharp and disbelieving, echoing off the walls. but as seconds ticked by and johnny just watched, arms crossed, that steady gaze unwavering, the humor drained away.
“fuck. you’re actually serious?”
“do i look like i’m joking?” he says, his voice dropping an octave, laced with challenge.
“johnny what the actual hell!? you want us to have sex!?” you say, the words tumbling out blunt and breathless, your heart slamming against your ribs.
“yes. but it’s for science. nothing else.”
“we’ve known each other since we were fourteen.”
“exactly why you’d be the perfect first client, i know you won’t let anything slide that easily, and you’ll actually criticize what’s wrong.”
“this is crazy.”
“c’mon…for science, doctor y/n,” he convinces, his smirk widening, his voice dripping like honey.
“i’m not a doctor yet,” you mumble, half-protest, half-tease.
“yet.” he repeats, “but you will be. and hey, if this becomes successful, i’ll even put your name on it. if not, the world will never know.”
and somehow, somehow, no matter how batshit crazy this is all sounding. he’s convinced you. like he usually does.
you nod slowly, a rush of adrenaline flooding your veins, “okay…fine, do we do it now or?”
he smiles, that slow, knowing curve of his lips pulling wider, eyes gleaming with triumph, “no, meet me at the clinic tomorrow. 7pm.”
you look at him with wide eyes, the reality crashing in like a wave, “you guys already have a building?”
he just nods, still smirking, a little too pleased with himself.
“fuck, you’re really serious.”
✚ THE CLINIC ✚
you pull up to the address johhny texted, your nerves buzzing as the building draws nearer — a subtle signage that reads orgasm donors in minimalist font comes to view. no neon, no sleaze, it could pass for a high-end spa if you squint.
but — as you push through the heavy door at exactly 7:00pm — the illusion shatters.
bright white walls assault your eyes first, sterile and unrelenting under the harsh fluorescent lights that hum overhead angrily. the air smells faintly of antiseptic, cool and clinical, with zero warmth to soften the edges. your eyes water from the flare, a sharp sting that makes you blink hard.
you part your lips to voice the critique bubbling up, but then johnny shows up, coming from a side door.
your best friend has swapped his usual grey joggers for tailored black slacks and a black button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those veined forearms that flex as he gestured you forward. his hair’s styled back but a few strands rebel, giving him that effortless edge.
“hey,” he greets, voice low and teasing, “right on time. come on back.”
“this lighting,” you start, the words spilling out before you can stop them, “it’s like staring into the sun. how are your clients supposed to–”
he holds up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence, “please save all criticism for the end of the session,” he says, firm but with that signature smirk tugging his lips, like he’s already anticipating your roast.
he knew you too well. knew that the two of you would never get anything done if you started your critics already.
you roll your eyes, the gesture dramatic enough to convey your exasperation. “fine.” you mutter, biting back the flood of suggestions.
mental note: this place should feel relaxing the second you step in. dim lights, softer hues on the wall, plush seating, maybe some ambient music or scented humidifiers. anything to ease into the vibe. not this doctor’s office nightmare that screams ‘pap smear incoming.’ it’s killing the mood before it even starts.
as you follow him down a short hallway, taeyong’s voice cuts through like a burst of sunlight. he pops out from what must be a prep room, all eager energy and bright smile, dressed in a similarly professional getup — slim-fit shirt hugging his lean frame with pants that accentuates his build.
“y/n! thank you so much for doing this for us. we know it’s a lot to ask.”
he steps closer, clasping your hands briefly in his. cool palms, gentle squeeze, his enthusiasm genuine, almost boyish, a stark contrasts to the room’s chill. you can’t help but soften a fraction, even as your brain whirs with more critiques.
“it’s…unconventional but i am curious,” you admit, smiling at him.
taeyong nods thankfully while johnny’s smirk deepens, his hand brushing your lower back to guide you inside one of the doors in the private rooms.
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
johnny’s hand lingers a beat too long on your lower back as he nudges you through the door, clicking it shut behind him.
the inside is no better than the lobby — worse, even. the lights blaze down like surgical spotlights, white and merciless, making your skin prickle. you squint against the glare, blinking away the burn as your eyes adjust to the setup.
in the corner, sits a white table, bare except for a single chair tucked under it. but dominating the center of the room?
a doctor’s examination table.
padded in white paper, complete with stirrups at the end — straight out of a routine check-up. the kind where you brace for a cold speculum and awkward small talk about your last period.
no silk sheets, no mood lighting, no hint of the erotic promise johnny was hyping up. just clinical efficiency that screams spread ‘em for science.
you spin on your heels, dress swishing against your thighs and lock eyes with johnny. he’s leaning against the wall now, arms crossed over his chest, that expectant gaze pinning you in place. his dark eyes search your face, trying to gauge your thoughts.
“what the fuck?”
the words burst out of you, sharp and unfiltered, echoing off the sterile walls. your hands plant on your hips, “this is your big seduction setup? i feel like i’m here for a pap smear, not…whatever the hell this is supposed to be? this seems like a goddamn ob-gyn’s perverted wet dream.”
johnny pushes off the wall, closing the distance with that unhurried stride, his presence filling the room like he owns every inch of it. he doesn’t laugh it off like he usually would have. instead, his lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that’s both challenge and command.
“trust the process, y/n,” he says, voice dropping low, smooth as velvet. his hand finds your elbow, guiding you backwards until the back of your legs hit the examination table.
“sit. let’s start slow. you’re the client. i’m your…donor.”
you huff a breath, but his grip firms enough, until you’re sitting on the table, legs dangling off the table.
“this is insane,” you blurt out, voice laced with sarcasm as the paper crinkles under your weight, “not hot. not even a little. it’s like role-playing a doctor’s visit gone wrong and—”
he steps between your knees then, hands settling on your thighs, light at first, thumbs trading idle circles that send an unwelcome shiver racing up your spine, shutting you up.
a decade long friendship, and you’ve never been this close before. he smells like clean soap and that faint cologne you’ve memorized, a reminder of lazy afternoons and shared secrets, now twisted into this bizarre from of intimacy.
“feet up,” he instructs, nodding toward the stirrups, his tone professional but laced with heat, eyes never leaving yours, “we need to make sure you’re….comfortable.”
your breath hitches, a mix of resistance and reluctant curiosity bubbling up. you swing your legs up, heels clicking into the metal holds, the position splaying you wide — vulnerable, exposed, even with your dress still hiked modestly to mid thigh.
you clench you jaw before speaking again. “i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you say, more to yourself, the words tumbling out as you meet his gaze defiantly.
he gives you one last smile, his famous cheshire smile this time, a little comforting, before one of his hand slowly slid under your dress, inching it upward with deliberate slowness. no rush, no fumbling. leaving goosebumps behind.
“see? not so bad,” he murmurs, voice husky now. the tension builds, your muscles stiffening under his touch and despite the weirdness — a traitorous warmth pools low in your belly.
he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear, “relax. i got you.”
his fingers brush the edge of your panties, testing, teasing the fabric aside just enough to graze bare skin. you hold your breath, your body bucking up to his touch, betraying the sarcasm still sharp on your tongue, “this better be good, johnny. or your whole empire’s dead on arrival,” you warn him breathlessly.
“this will be good,” he says confidently, having full-faith in this idea, “—now lie back.”
his voice is steady and reassuring as he gently pushes you down onto the table.
the crinkly paper rustles beneath you, cool against your back, and you let your head rest on the thin padding, staring up at the blinding lights that make everything feel too clinical.
johnny’s hands move with purpose, hooking into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your thighs, over your knees, past the stirrups.
the fabric whispers against your skin before he lets it drop to the floor with a soft thud, leaving you bare from the waist down, dress bunched up around your hips.
and with absolutely no warning — his head dips between your legs and his mouth finds your pussy in one bold motion, tongue flattening against your folds, licking a slow, firm stripe from bottom to top.
the sudden wet heat shocks you, pulling a gasp from your throat as your hips jerk involuntarily.
you didn’t think he’d just go for it like that — straight to the main event, no buildup, his lips sealing around your clit with a suck that sends a jolt through your core.
you try to close your eyes, forcing yourself to sink into the sensation, to let the rhythm of his tongue — circling, flicking, probing deeper — pull you under. but the harsh lights pierce through your eyelids, the sterile scent of the room clings to everything and the awkwardness clings to everything.
this might be someone’s wet dream. but it was definitely not yours.
your body responds, wetness gathering, but no real fire catching. your mood refuses to ignite.
after a couple of minutes, the frustration builds too high. you push at his head, fingers threading into his hair to lift him away.
“stop—johnny, this isn’t working.”
he pulls back immediately, lips glistening, eyes wide with slight shock as he straightens up between your thighs, “fuck….i never had a girl say that to me before.”
you roll your eyes as you sit, your hands behind your back holding you up, amusement cutting through the tension despite yourself, “it’s not…you.”
he quirks a brow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, curiosity sharpening his gaze, “then what is it?”
you think for a bit, “you just…you can’t start it like that. and this room is not helping. you need to get me in the mood first.”
“okay,” he nods, “got any tips on how i can do that for you?” he asks, actually invested, leaning his hands beside your hips, his body heat a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, almost caging you.
“hmm,” you ponder, biting your lip as you glance up at him, the defiance softening into something more collaborative, “maybe start with kissing me?”
“i can definitely do that,” he says, voice dropping low, that cheshire smile flickering back as he closes the distance. his hand slide up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, you share one last look of confirmation and then his mouth is on yours — soft at first, testing, lips pressing with warmth that chases away the sterile cold of the room.
you’d never thought you would be kissing your best friend of ten years like this, tongues tangling in a way that’s equal parts familiar and forbidden. but then again, you’d never thought he would have his tongue on your pussy first. you can taste a hint of you on his lips.
and surprisingly, it’s not as awkward as you’d imagined.
johnny is a good kisser. really good. his lips move with confident ease, parting yours to deepen the connection, his tongue sliding in to stroke against yours in slow, deliberate sweeps that make your pulse quicken.
the two of you find a rhythm really fast, breaths mingling as the kiss builds from tentative to hungry. one of your hands come up to fist his shirt, pulling him closer until his chest presses against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric.
a soft moan escapes you, vibrating into his mouth and he answers with a low grunt, his grip shifting to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you both.
the kiss heats up, turning messy and urgent — teeth grazing lips, tongues dueling as you tilt your head for better access.
your legs are still wide open, held up by the stirrups, the hard line of his cock pressing through his pants against your bare core, sending sparks up your spine.
one of his hands make’s their way to your thigh, lightly squeezing, thumb circling the exposed skin where your dress rides up, pulling you into the friction as quiet moans spill from your lips, raw and unrestrained.
you were definitely turned on now.
you break for air first, barely, your forehead resting against his, breaths ragged, eyes closed, “johnny—” you murmur, voice breathless and whiny, “you can touch me now.”
“anything you want,” he says, smirking, voice husky as his hand slides under your dress. fingers finding your clit with unnerving precision.
he rubs slow circles over the bud, the slick heat between your legs betraying just how turned on you are now — your pussy coating his fingertips as he presses firmer, parting your folds and teasing your entrance.
you can’t help but pull him back into the makeout session, lips crashing against his desperately, tongues sliding wet and frantic.
then — two thick digits thrust into you, shallowly at first, the initial intrusion making you gasp into his mouth. his fingers felt so fulling already. nothing like the way yours feel when you touch yourself. his hits deeper, perfectly curling to stroke that sensitive spot that makes your hips buck against his hand.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts against your lips, eyebrows a bit furrowed as his fingers stretch your walls with each plunge, scissoring them apart and grazing every ridge inside you.
“holy shit — johnny,” you cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, the building heat coiling tighter, your body arching involuntarily.
then his thumb flicked back and forth over your clit — and your muscles weaken, spine going liquid. you can’t hold yourself up anymore. with a gasp into his mouth, you slump back onto the examination table, the cool paper crinkling under your shoulders as you pull him down with you, his body following without missing a beat.
he hovers over you, his free hand planting beside your head to steady himself while the other keeps driving into your pussy, faster now, curling just right, hitting your g-spot with deliberate force.
“johnny—oh god, right there,” you whimper, head falling back, as you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, chasing the friction that’s turning your insides to fire.
johnny’s breath fans hot against your neck, lips brushing your ear, “that’s it, feel how you’re squeezing me? so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, encouraging, the stretch burning sweetly while his fingers fuck you deeper, knuckles bumping your clit with every slam.
“fuck—fuck—fuck—” you squeeze your eyes shut as the pressure builds unbearably fast, your pussy clenching around him.
he doesn’t let up, his fingers relentlessly curling inside you, thumb circling your swollen clit in tight loops that make your toes curl on the table. if it weren’t for the stirrups holding you open, your legs would definitely be squeezing shut to gain a moment of relief.
“breathe through it, baby,” johnny murmurs, his voice low and commanding.
the pet name hits you like a spark, spiraling through you, twisting the building orgasm into something deeper, more consuming. your walls flutter and tighten even more around his invading fingers, a sharp, involuntary squeeze that betrays how that single pet name pushes you closer to the edge.
he feels it immediately — the way you clamp down on him, hot and slick, your body pulsing in rhythm with his words. he can’t help but feel smug.
“gonna get you all ready for me,” he grunts, a low growl rumbles from his throat. then he adds a third finger, stretching you even more, his eyes locked on your flushed face, drinking in every twitch and whimper.
“let it build, baby—fuck, you’re gonna come so hard,” he growls, his fingers curling harder, faster.
your breaths come in sharp gasps now as the edge rushes closer, your walls continuing to flutter around his digits.
“johnny—,” you moan his name, the sound breaking from your throat raw and desperate, just as the wave crests, ripping through you like a storm.
your first orgasm hits you like a brick as you gush slick that soaks his hand and drops onto the table beneath you, staining the paper as he milks out every last shudder from you.
“that’s it baby, cum all over my fingers,” he says darkly, a small smirk on his face as your pussy spasms wildly around his fingers.
after a moment, johnny eases his fingers out slowly, his hand glistening with your release, spreading it along your inner thigh, painting you with your own cum.
he watches you, that smug pride radiating from him like he’s just conquered something monumental.
your chest heaves, breaths coming in ragged bursts, and for a couple of seconds, he just lets you lie there, a hand massaging your thigh, stirring goosebumps along your skin and slowly pulling you back to reality.
when your eyes finally flutter open, hazy and unfocused — he’s right there. hovering closer, his cheshire grin in full force, way too proud like he’s won some secret bet against your skepticism.
he slides his clean hand under your back, the other still slick on your thighs, as he helps you sit up, removing your feet off the stirrups.
your legs dangle off the edge of the table again, weak and jelly-like, but his grip is steady, grounding.
“fuck,” you finally manage to say, “so what now?” you ask, voice breathy and a little wrecked, your gaze flicking down to where his fingers, still shiny from you, rest casually on your skin.
“well…” he hums, drawing it out low in his throat. he leans in a fraction, “we can keep going and i give you another one or…we can stop here. whatever you want — you tell me. that’s how this works, after all.”
fuck.
has your best friend always been this hot?
yes. but you’ve been ignoring that fact for ten years.
now — his words hit different and your mind is going crazy with the way his touch lingers, the warmth of his large hand still tracing lazy patterns on your thigh.
the heat in your belly hasn’t faded. in fact — it was stronger now. ready to flare at the slightest provocation.
you can feel the pull. that enticing ache building again, your body already craving the stretch, the friction — him.
and he sees it, clear as day — the calculations flickering across your face, the way your breath hitches when his fingers flex against you.
the skepticism since he first pitched this insane clinic idea cracking under the weight of what just happened — what he’s capable of pulling from you — with his hands alone.
the appeal hits you like a revelation. this isn’t some clinical farce. it’s raw, unfiltered pleasure tailored just for you. no judgments. no expectations beyond chasing the next high. your body hums with it, that post-orgasm flow sharpening into hunger, and yeah...maybe you were starting to get it now. as ridiculous as it sounds.
he smirks wider, tilting his head, eyes dark and knowing and you know he’s enjoying this a little bit too much.
“what’s it gonna be, doctor?”
your pulse thuds in your ears, the sterile hum of the clinic fading into white noise as you meet his gaze, the defiance from earlier melting into something hungrier.
“fuck it,” you say, the words tumbling out, your voice steadier than you feel, “keep going.”
johnny’s grin turns predatory, satisfaction flashing in his eyes, “good choice.”
“but,” you start, shifting on the examination table, “i really don’t feel comfortable on here…i feel like i’m a patient.”
he laughs at that, the sound low and genuine, rumbling from his chest as he skims the room quickly.
there’s not a lot of options — just the sterile exam setup and that table in the corner.
without a word, he scoops you up in one fluid motion, his large hands under your thighs, lifting you off the crinkled paper like you weight nothing. a surprised squeal escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips.
“johnny!” you half-laugh, half-protest, but he’s already moving, placing you gently on the coner table — the surface firmer, less clinical, feels almost normal under your ass. your dress settling haphazardly around your hips.
“this better?” he asks, hands lingering on your waist.
“much,” you reply, smirking up at him, the shift in position grounding you, making this feel less like an experiment and more like….you two.
your fingers curl into his shirt collar, tugging him down as you lean in, crashing your lips against his in a kiss that’s all heat and no hesitation. he slots himself closer between your thighs without missing a beat, his hips pressing forward, the hard line of his erection grinding against your core through his pants, drawing a muffled moan from you into his mouth.
you break the kiss just enough to tease, your breath mingling with his, “now…my donor,” you say, throwing his own word back at him with a playful lilt, your hand sliding down the planes of his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs under the thin fabric, feeling them flex under your touch.
“is cumming on your dick allowed?”
“that’s what i’m here for, doll,” he murmurs by your ear, voice a rough whisper that sends shivers racing down your spine, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before nipping lightly.
if you didn’t already cross it before, you were definitely about to cross the line best friends shouldn’t even be teetering on now.
but hey…it’s all in the name of science! right?
his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, the friction of his clothed cock rubbing tight where you’re aching, your slickness soaking through to dampen the front of his pants. you arch into him, grinding back with a deliberate roll of your hips, the tease turning urgent as your fingers dip lower, fumbling with his belt buckle.
the metal clinks softly in the quiet room. he doesn’t stop you. in fact, he helps pop the button, shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free — already hard, thick and heavy and so…so…big.
“oh….shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening as you take him in fully.
you had an inkling that your best friend was big, just by looking at the size of his hands, but fuck…he is much bigger than your brain could’ve even imagined. the length curves slightly upward, veins prominent along the shaft, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum.
he smirks, that signature grin pulling at his lips again as he watches your reaction, “is that a good oh shit or a bad oh shit?”
“it’s an oh shit, i don’t think you’re gonna fit,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, your voice laced with a mix of awe and nerves.
and still, you can’t help yourself — your hand reaches out, wrapping around his length, squeezing the girth that barely fits in your palm.
he lets you stroke him slowly, from base to tip, then again, feeling the heat of your fingers. a quiet hiss slipping from his lips at your touch, his hips twitching forward instinctively.
“don’t worry about that,” he grunts, eyes darkening as he stares down at where your hand works him, “i’ll make it fit.”
and then he’s slapping your hand away gently but firmly, taking control as he aligns himself against your entrance. the broad head of his cock pressing against your folds, parting them with ease, coating him with your slick, as he circles his leaking tip around your pulsing clit.
your breath catches in your throat, stomach already clenching from want. but before you could lose entirely, you push him back a bit with your palms on his chest, heart pounding.
“wait…we’re doing this without a condom?”
he rolls his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze, but there’s no impatience in it.
“i know for a fact you’re on birth control…unless you prefer it with a condom?”
you shake your head no, the idea of that barrier suddenly feeling wrong, but practicality continues to nag at you.
“no, but what if you get a client that isn’t on birth control? or god forbid, a client that isn’t clean?”
he chuckles, low and throaty, leaning in closer so his breath fans over your lips.
“well, they’re not the one’s i’m about to fuck right now, are they?…i’ll worry about it when that happens, but right now…it’s just me and you,” his voice drops, seductive and intimate, wrapping around the words like a promise, making the room feel smaller, warmer.
just the two of you in this sex bubble.
and before you could point out something else — his tip nudges at your entrance, sliding in with a slow, deliberate push.
it steals your breath, the stretch immediate and intense even with just the head breaching you.
he’s sooo fucking big, filling that first inch like it’s a challenge, your pussy yielding but clenching around the intrusion.
you gasp, sharp and involuntary, your fingers going up and tightening around his bicep, nails digging into the hard muscle there for purchase, your mouth open in a silent moan. the burn is sweet, bordering on too much, but your body responds on instinct, hips tilting up to take more, slick easing the way as he holds still, letting you adjust.
“easy,” he murmurs, one hand stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braces on the table, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of expression, “breathe, baby. you’re doing so good already — so fucking tight around me.”
the praise hits low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you and you nod, exhaling shakily as your force your muscles to relax. inch by inch, he sinks deeper, the thick length of him stretching your walls — it’s overwhelming, the fullness making your toes curl.
a low whine escapes your throat as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, his balls pressing warm against your ass.
“johnny—oh god,” you whimper, your head tipping back as you hold your weight up on the table. he’s already so fucking deep it’s sparking that spot inside you with pressure.
he groans in response, the sound raw and strained, like he’s holding back everything to give you this moment.
“see? fit’s perfect. told you.”
“now…you gotta tell me how you like it. this will only work if i know,” his voice is husky, edged with restraint.
you nod in response and he starts to move — pulling out just enough to let your pussy grip him on the way back in, building the rhythm slow and teasing. the drag of his cock sends sparks up your spine, each shallow thrust testing your reactions, his eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every gasp and twitch.
“you like that?” he asks, voice low and gravelly, rolling his hips in a gentle circle onces he’s fully seated again, grinding against your clit with the base of his shaft.
“mmm, yeah—deeper,” you breathe out, your hands sliding up his arms to anchor yourself, directing him with your words and the subtle lift of your hips, “angle it up a little…right there—fuck”
he adjusts on the next thrust, bringing one of your legs higher and settling it on his shoulder, and when the head of his cock nudges that perfect spot inside you — your eyes roll back so far you see stars.
a loud moan spills from your lips, unrestrained and needy, echoing off the walls, “oh shit, yes—johnny!”
the slow build shatters into something urgent, his thrusts gaining purpose as he chases that reaction again and again.
“faster,” you moan out, the word a desperate plea, your body already chasing the edge. he follows well, hips snapping forward with more force, hitting that spot faster and faster, each thrust driving the air from your lungs in sharp gaps.
his grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise, holding you steady as he pounds into you.
“fuck doll, you feel so good,” he grunts, sweat beading on his forehead.
you try your best to meet his pace, pushing up with one of your heel planted on the table, your pussy clenching around him greedily. your fingers curling at the table behind you, knuckles white, trying your best to ground yourself as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.
“don’t stop — oh god, johnny – just like that!”
the right sleeve of your dress falls of your shoulder mid-thrust, exposing more skin and it’s so hot to him — the disheveled look, the way you’re coming undone under him.
“fuck,” he growls at the sight, eyes raking over you hungrily before he reaches up and pulling both of your sleeves down completely. the fabric bunches at your waist, your black lace bra coming into view, the thin material doing little to hide your hardened nipples as your tits bounce up and down with every thrust, jiggling enticingly, drawing his gaze like a magnet.
“goddamn, look at you,” he rasps, thrusting deeper, his rhythm faltering for a second as he drinks in the view.
you grab one of his hands, trailing it up your body — over the curve of your waist, the dip of your ribs until he’s cupping your tit through the bra, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. the lace scratches against your skin, adding a teasing friction, and you arch into his palm with a whine.
“take it off,” you demand breathlessly. he doesn’t hesitate, one hand reaching for the hook and removing it swiftly, letting your tits spill free — heavy and flushed, nipples pebbled in the cool air. his large hand engulfs one breast, thumb flicking over your nipple, squeezing just hard enough to make you cry out.
“these are fucking perfect,” he grunts, leaning in closer, his thrusts never slowing as he continues to stimulate all your senses.
you pull him down for a kiss then, crashing your lips against his in a messy, open-mouthed clash. tongues tangle hot and desperate. you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you and he answers with a deep grunt, hips continuing their thrusts even as your pussy flutters around him.
“johnny—fuck—i’m gonna—” your words break off in a gasp, the coil snapping without warning as you hold onto him for dear life.
and before you know it, you’re cumming all over his cock as your second orgasm hits.
“that’s it doll, cum all over me — just like that,” he groans, pounding through your orgasm with short, brutal thrusts, prolonging the bliss until you’re trembling, oversensitive and spent.
your body shakes, slick coating his length as he drives in one last time, grinding deep to feel every quiver.
he stops then, bringing your raised leg back down on the table but he doesn’t pull out — staying buried inside you, his cock twitching as he feels you pulse around him, making his breath hitch. the aftershocks hum through your nerves, sweat slicking your skin, his chest heaving against yours.
“think you can take more?” he asks, voice rough and low, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your hip as he watches your face, eyes dark with hunger.
you try to catch your breath, a light chuckle slipping out of you as your mind tries to catch up, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. a lazy smirk tugs at your lips despite the haze.
“fuck—i mean, isn’t that the purpose of this whole thing? we keep going until i say stop?”
he reflects your smirk, that grin flashing wide and wicked, “now, you’re starting to get it.”
with a gentle but firm grip, he slides out and helps you to your feet, your legs wobbling a bit. your dress, already bunched at your waist, slips completely to the floor, leaving you completely bare except for your heels. the cool air hits your flushed skin but his gaze rakes over you like fire.
“fuck—you’re so hot,” he says, the words raw and appreciative, hanging heavy in the air.
yeah, that best friend line has been completely obliterated.
heat creeps up your neck but before it can make you blush fully, you take two steps, closing the distance, hands reaching for his button down. your fingers work the buttons open one by one, trembling slightly from the exertion, revealing the hard planes of his chest down to his rock hard abs.
you’ve seen his abs plenty of times, considering johnny loves walking around your shared apartment shirtless half of the time. but seeing it this close — you can’t help but admire, biting your lip as your nails graze down each line.
“like what you see?” he teases, an amused grin on his lips.
you roll your eyes playfully before shoving the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, leaving him naked too — his cock still hard and glistening with your release, jutting out thick and demanding.
he watches you the whole time, arms loose at his sides, that intense stare making your pulse kick up again.
and when you’re done — he tilts your jaw up with two fingers, pulling you into a breathless kiss, your neck craning up as his lips crash softly at first, then deeper, tongues sliding slow and filthy.
before you can melt into it fully — he breaks away. spinning you around with a hand on your waist.
your palms slap against the cool wall. he presses in close, body caging yours, cock nudging between your thighs from behind.
with no warning — he thrusts back in with one smooth, powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt in your soaked pussy.
no easing in this time. now that he knows you can handle him.
the sudden fullness rips a sharp cry from your throat, your walls stretching around him again, the angle hitting deeper than before.
“johnny—ahh, fuck!” you gasp, forehead pressing to the wall as your body arches instinctively, heels scraping the floor for purchase, your tits squeezed against it.
it’s intense — the way he fills you up so completely, reigniting the fire that barely dimmed.
he doesn’t give you time to adjust, hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm, fucking you against the wall with grunts that vibrate through his chest into your back.
each thrust jolts you forward, tits scraping the surface, the friction adding sparks to the overwhelming pressure building for the third time.
“so fucking perfect like this — you can take it like a good girl, yeah?” he growls, one hand splaying across your stomach, holding you upright as your legs start to feel like jelly, knees buckling under the force.
his hold on you is so strong that he’s practically lifting you up. the tip of your heels the only thing touching the ground below you.
you whimper, at a loss for words, your teeth clenched so hard as you try your best not to break so quickly.
but he’s got you pinned, his grip firm on your belly and god, you can feel it — his hand pressing down on your stomach, the bulge of his cock moving beneath your skin with every plunge, the sheer size of him outlined through your abdomen.
it’s obscene, intoxicating, spurring you both on like a dirty secret.
“shit — shit — johnny, i can feel you — so deep —fuck — you’re huge,” you moan, the words spilling out in a haze, your pussy clenching harder at the though, slick dripping down your thighs.
“yeah, baby you like that?” he rasps, voice deep but strained with effort, “that’s me owning this pussy,” his fingers splaying wider over your stomach to push into the ridge forming there.
his other hand slides up to grip your hair, pulling you back onto him harder, making your eyes roll back as the slap of skin echo louder in the room. your legs are trembling, barely holding you, but he keeps you steady, bouncing you on his cock, his groans right by your ear as he watches the way your body yields to him.
“gonna make you feel every inch—cum again for me, doll.”
the pressure builds impossibly quick, your breaths coming in pants, your hand coming down to grip the arm around your stomach for support, every thrust sending jolts through you until you’re teetering on the edge once more, lost in the raw, pounding heat of him. his bulge under your skin a constant reminder of how deeply he’s claiming you.
it hits like a freight train — your third orgasm crashes over you so hard you can’t even make a noise anymore, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body seizes.
you’re sure a vein in your forehead is popping as your vision blurs at the edges, legs giving out completely as he lets you slump against the wall, held up only by his unyielding grip, the intensity leaving you boneless and dazed.
johnny pulls back just enough too look at you — smug as hell, eyes gleaming with triumph as he takes in your wrecked state.
“look at you — so beautiful when you come apart for me,” he murmurs by your ear, voice sweet yet thick with satisfaction.
but he’s far from done.
his cock is still rock-hard, throbbing inside you.
he doesn’t give you time to fully process the aftershocks, easing out with a wet slide before manhandling you again.
your gasp echoes as he guides you back to the corner table, bending you over it, face-down, tits pressed into the surface, ass up and exposed.
the position leaves you vulnerable, body still humming from the high, your mind foggy, trying to string thoughts together amid the haze of bliss and exhaustion.
he leans over you, chest to your back, his breath hot against your ear as he cages you in, “i think you can take one more,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell, the words laced with dark promise, as he parts your legs wider.
you’re so fucked out, words fail you — so you just nod, an incoherent yes that comes out as a whimper, head lolling to the side.
that’s all he needs.
“good girl.”
in one motion, he lines up and thrusts back inside, cock spearing into your soaked heat with a slick squelch.
you’re not sure it was possible, but the new angle hits even deeper, bottoming out against your cervix. and johnny — he doesn’t hold back.
he fucks you faster, harder, the pace relentless as his hips slam against your ass, the table creaking under the force. each thrust is punishing, building that impossible tension again.
you’re a mess.
drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the table, screams tearing from your throat in broken cries of—
“johnny–johnny—johnny—fuck!”
your hands flail back, reaching desperately to hold onto him for dear life, fingers clawing at his thighs, pulling him closer even as it overwhelms you.
the room fills with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, your pussy slurping around him, the air thick with the scent of sex.
then his hand snakes around, fingers finding your throbbing clit, rubbing tight, firm circles — rough and precise, no mercy.
“c’mon baby, let go,” he practically growls, voice rough with his own building strain.
it’s too much, the dual sensation shattering you.
“no—wait—fuck, i can’t—” you babble, but your body betrays you, the pressure exploding outward.
your pussy convulses violently, pushing him out with a gush as you squirt all over him — hot jets of your juices spraying across his cock, stomach, and the floor in messy arcs, soaking everything in sight.
the release of your fourth orgasm drags a guttural moan from deep in your chest, body shaking uncontrollably as you collapse forward, utterly spent.
the way you squeezed him, the sight of you squirting, marking him in the rawest way — it all pushes johnny right to the edge, his eyes locked on the way your body erupts and the next second he’s groaning low and deep.
“shit—i’m cumming,” he rasps, stroking himself furiously, ropes of thick cum painting your lower back in hot, sticky bursts of white.
the warmth splatters across your skin, dripping down your skin as the top half of his body weight falls on you, pressing you into the table.
he holds himself up only with his elbows braced on either side, caging you in completely, his chest heaving against your back.
your shared moans of release echo in the room, the only sound breaking the heavy silence, raw and intertwined, as you both ride out the aftershocks.
his cock twitches against your ass, spent but still pulsing, while your walls flutter emptily, aching from intensity.
after a minute or three, the tremors fade and you turn around slowly, wincing at the soreness blooming between your thighs.
johnny straightens up, concern flicking in his eyes as he lifts you back onto the table with gentle hands, sitting you down carefully.
you lean into him without thinking, head finding comfort in the solid warmth of his chest, ear pressed to the rapid thump of his heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm. his arms wrap around you loosely, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your bare back, tracing lazy patterns over the sweat-slick skin.
he breaks the silence first, voice soft and tentative, “did i hurt you?”
you shake your head no, nuzzling closer for a moment before pulling away just a bit, enough to meet his gaze. a teasing smile tugs at your lips despite the exhaustion.
“sooo….now that you came, does that mean the session is over? how does that work?”
he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, that familiar cheshire grin returning but softer now, less predatory.
“no…it’s only over once the client say it’s over.”
you quirk a brow, the words sinking in.
yeah, you definitely see the appeal of this whole thing now.
maybe your best friend is a genius after all — turning mind-melting ecstasy into a moneymaking business.
“do you want to keep going?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts, his thumb still stroking your skin.
you laugh at that, the sound light and breathless, your head falling back into his chest, “no, fuck…i’m so tired i just want to sleep it off.”
he laughs too, the vibration soothing against you, “so no reviews for today?”
you smirk up at him, playful, “oh, i got reviews…plenty of complaints too…but let’s save it for tomorrow.”
he laughs again, genuine and warm and when you yawn, wide and unapologetic, that’s when he nods, “okay, let’s go home,” he says softly, helping you slide off the table.
his touch is careful as he gathers your discarded clothes, kneeling briefly to slip your underwear back up your legs, fingers grazing your thighs with tenderness. he clasps your bra into place next, hooking it efficiently before easing your dress over your head, smoothing the fabric down your body like he’s done it a hundred times.
you watch him dress himself too, that easy confidence back in place. then he takes your hand, leading you out of t he room, the door clicking shut behind you on the echo of what just happened.
“wait–,” you say, pausing mid-step, “do we just…leave our mess in there?”
he chuckles, pulling you towards the lobby, “don’t worry about it, we’ll have someone clean it up,” he says, still holding your hand for some reason, fingers intertwined loosely, like it’s the most natural thing after everything.
taeyong’s head pops out from behind the computer at the front desk, his eyes lighting up with excitement when he spots the two of you.
“was it okay?” taeyong asks curiously, observing the way you’re leaning into johnny’s side, the subtle flush still on your cheeks.
“yeah, actually,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips, and the two men share a look — quick, loaded, like yeah, this business is going to work.
there’s a spark of triumph there, the kind that says they’ve just tested the waters and found them perfect.
taeyong smiles, sliding a sleek black bag across the counter then, “as our first ever client, you should be the first to have this,” he says, pushing it toward you with a wink.
you quirk a brow, curiosity piqued, letting go of johnny’s hand to grab the bag and peer inside. your fingers close around soft fabric, pulling out a hoodie — white, oversized, with the words orgasm donor printed boldy across the chest in block letters.
“wow,” you say, bursting into laughter, “you guys even have merch?”
the two of them laugh with you, the sound filling the lobby, light and infectious, “what can we say?” johnny says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, “we’re really serious about this.”
you shake your head, still chuckling as you fold the hoodie back into the bag, the absurdity of it all hitting just right after the intensity of the session.
and with johnny’s arm still slung over your shoulder you head out of the clinic together.
✚ THE REVIEWS ✚
you two didn’t make it very far last night, the weight of exhaustion crashing down the moment you stepped through the apartment door. the couch became your makeshift bed — clothes half shed, the orgasm donor hoodie swallowing you whole paired only with your panties underneath.
meanwhile, johnny stripped down to his boxers, collapsing beside you with a contented sigh, an arm under your head as sleep claimed you both in seconds. it’s not like the two of you haven’t fallen asleep together on this couch multiple times before.
now, the morning light filters through the half-drawn blinds, pulling you away first. your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the familiar clutter of the living room.
johnny’s still out cold next to you, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his hair tousled across his forehead. he looks like your johnny — peaceful, almost boyish, a far cry from the commanding presence he wore yesterday.
a faint ache lingers between your thighs — a reminder of what happened. but it’s not unpleasant. just a quiet echo of pleasure.
you sit up, reaching for the notebook and pen on the coffee table to jot down your thoughts from yesterday’s session.
after a while, the page fills and you set the notebook aside, glancing at johnny’s sleeping form.
you pat his stomach rapidly, “wake up,” you say, voice soft but insistent.
he groans, low and muffled, burrowing deeper into the cushion, “ugh…five more minutes.”
you roll your eyes, patting a little harder now, “do you want your feedback or not?”
that does it.
he sits up quickly, blinking against the light, rubbing a hand over his face as his sleepy eyes adjust slowly. stray sunlight catches the sharp line of his jaw, and yeah, he looks cute like this.
“fine, i’m up,” he sighs, voice gravelly from sleep.
for a split second, the memory of yesterday flickers back. you ignore the way your body feels hot while recalling it.
but you push it away, forcing your playful best friend nature to snap into place — the ease of a decade’s worth of banter overriding the fresh intimacy. like the two of you didn’t strip bare and chase ecstasy together just hours ago.
you sit up too, smirking, “alright, mr. serious businessman,” you tease, your notebook already open in front of you, “review time. and don’t interrupt until i’m done.”
he chuckles, settling back against the armrest legs stretching out to brush yours as you sit opposite from him.
“yes doc, lay it on me,” his eyes sparkle with that familiar mischief, but there’s a genuine curiosity there too, like he’s hanging on your every word already.
“one,” you start, tapping the pen against the paper for emphasis, “you gotta get rid of those harsh lights. make the lobby feel more like a nice, relaxing spa. and not a doctor’s clinic. seriously, it was like walking into a hospital. who wants to get off in there?”
he nods slowly, “fair. we were going for clinical precision but yeah, ambiance matters.”
“two – you need to know your clients. why are they coming in? what’s their purpose? what turns them on? and you need to cater the experience to them. because i’m telling you right now, johnny, the doctor’s office setup ya’ll have going on? sure, that might be someone’s fantasy. but not everyone’s. personally, i thought it was creepy.”
his eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to defend the vibe, but you point the pen at him warningly.
“zip it. i know you’re thinking about role-play potential, but save it. this is about customization, not one-size-fits all.”
he closes his mouth, nodding again, though his eyes dance with amusement.
“three,” you continue, gaining momentum, your voice steady as you lean into the critique, “you need some sort of consent waiver or this whole thing can fire back on you fast.”
johnny’s expression turns serious for a beat, and he gives a firm nod, “already on the list, but noted.”
“four — the condoms thing? make sure everyone who signs up for your service is tested. same goes for your donors. and i highly suggest that every donor wears a condom. i mean, come on — health first, even in fantasy land.”
he shifts slightly, his leg pressing a bit more against yours, but he just hums in agreement, fingers drumming on his thigh.
“five – i’m sorry but the whole ‘we keep going until the client says stop,’ is bullshit okay? treat yourselves with respect too, just because you're selling this service doesn’t mean you can’t have lines as well. what happens if they want to fuck for 8 hours straight? it’s not plausible. set a limit. and if they’re not satisfied then i don’t know, maybe you can offer a partial refund.”
johnny chuckles softly, leaning in a bit “but what if—”
i “nope,” you cut him off, poking his knee with the pen, “limits protect everyone. end of story.”
he settles back, chuckling again, his gaze warm and attentive.
“six,” you say, flipping the page for effect, “reviews are important. i think you already know that. so keep implementing that. make it easy, anonymous if they want, and actually use the feedback to tweak things. it’s gold for building trust and improving.”
he nods enthusiastically this time, no attempt to speak, “i completely agree.”
“and lastly,” you finish with a grin, closing the notebook with a satisfied smirk, “i like the hoodie. it’s fun, comfy, cheeky — the perfect merch to make people laugh and remember the experience.”
johnny bursts out laughing at that, reaching over to ruffle your hair, “thanks for the reviews, doc,” he smirks as you two share a smile.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
bonus scene:
“thanks for the reviews, doc,” he smirks, “but have i ever told you…how hot you get when you talk like that?”
he shifts closer on the couch, his body heat cutting through the morning chill, that grin widening as his knee nudges yours.
the air thickens, charged with the same electric pull from yesterday's session.
“all stern and commanding, my little know-it-all,” he murmurs, voice dropping low, his hand brushing your leg.
your pulse quickens, body leaning in before your brain catches up, heat pooling low in your belly. but you catch yourself, planting a hand on his chest.
“nu-uh, suh,” you say, pushing him back with a playful shove, though your voice wavers just a touch. “don't even think about it.”
he tilts his head, eyes gleaming with amusement, feigning innocence, “think about what?”
you smirk back, crossing your arms to hold your ground, “you're not starting a friends with benefits relationship with me when you're about to open a sex clinic.”
he laughs, deep and rumbling, the sound vibrating through you, “well…the clinic isn't open yet,” he teases, his hand sliding up your leg, to your thighs and settling on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to pull you closer across the cushions.
his touch is firm, insistent, drawing you into his orbit, your breath syncing with his.
“hmmm... i guess it isn't?” you murmur, the words half-question, half-surrender, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze.
he knows he's got you — that smug spark in his eyes says it all.
in one smooth motion, he tugs you onto his lap.
then he plays with the hem of your hoodie, the two you of talking with your eyes as you give him the go signal.
he pulls the hoodie up and over your head, leaving you bare from the waist up, skin prickling in the cool air, your breasts bouncing free.
“review number two,” he says, voice husky, echoing your earlier words as he settles you onto his lap, straddling him, “know your client.”
“what about it?” you ask, breath hitching, trying to cling to that confident front even as your body betrays you, thighs clenching around his.
“does my client like getting her tits sucked?” he looks up at you, eyes still soft from sleep, but his words drip with filth, thumb circling your nipple teasingly.
you nod, swallowing hard, “she does.”
“good to know,” he growls, before his lips close around your nipple, hot and wet, tongue flicking the peak as he sucks hard. the pull sends a jolt straight to your core, your pussy clenching empty, already slick with want.
his free hand grips your ass, kneading the flesh, pulling you down so you grind against the growing bulge in his boxers.
you moan, fingers threading into his messy hair, holding him there as he switches to the other breast, teeth grazing just enough to sting before soothing with a swirl of his tongue.
“johnny—” you gasp, hips rocking instinctively, the friction of his hard cock pressing through the thin fabric making you ache.
this is definitely much hotter than yesterday. the couch a familiar place. making everything feel more intimate. real.
he hums against your skin, the vibration buzzing through you, then releases your nipple with a pop, looking up with that wicked smile.
“see? customizing the experience already. what else does she like? tell me, doc — guide me through it.”
his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly so he can yank down his boxer enough to free his thick cock. it springs up, heavy and veined, brushing your inner thigh.
your mouth waters at the sight, that familiar stretch from yesterday flashing in your mind — the way he fills you so completely.
“she likes... you inside her,” you whisper.
he doesn’t waste another second, tugging your panties to the side, his tip nudging your wet folds.
“then take it baby, come on,” he groans, hands on your hips guiding you down slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching your pussy wide.
the initial breach makes you whimper. you’re not too sure you could ever get used to his size.
you sink lower, feeling every ridge and vein as he claims more space inside you, your body trembling from the fullness, as he reshapes you to fit him all over again.
he's so deep, the tip pressing against your cervix, that overwhelming stuffed feeling making your toes curl — his size dominating every nerve, leaving no room for anything but him.
“god—johnny—,” you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind, his hands helping set the pace, thumbs digging into your skin to lift and drop you with control.
the size of him makes it intense, your thighs quivering from the effort, but the pleasure builds fast, that perfect friction against your inner walls amplified by how he stretches you so wide.
“just like that, baby—ride me just like that,” he pants, thrusting up to meet you, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet living room.
your breasts bounce with each bounce, and he captures one again, sucking as you ride him harder, chasing that building pressure.
you pick up speed, grinding down harder, your clit grinding against his pubic bone, the way his thick base rubs your entrance sending sparks through you.
“god, we should have done this years ago,” he growls against your skin, voice rough, his hips bucking up sharper now, driving deeper.
his words turn you on even more. you lean forward, hands on his chest for leverage, riding him harder, the rhythm turning frantic. your ass slaps against his thighs, the couch creaking under the force, and you feel him throb inside you, swelling even thicker, pushing your limits further.
and he meets your pace. fucking up into you faster and faster to the point your arms shake, falling forward, high-pitched moans spilling from your lips.
the coil tightens unbearably, your walls clamping down on his massive cock as he keeps thrusting up into you, his balls slapping your skin.
“johnny—i'm close,” you whine by his ear, the words tumbling out between gasps, your body on fire from how he fills you completely, no empty spaces, just pure, overwhelming sensation.
“me too, doll, fuck — come with me,” he grunts, his large hands squeezing your as as he continues his relentless pace, slamming you down onto him.
your body listens to him well, your orgasm ripping through you just like that. you cry out, nails digging into his skin, and he follows right after, groaning your name as his cock jerks, hot spurts of cum flooding your depths, painting your walls as you ride out the shared high together, bodies locked in shuddering release.
minutes pass in lazy silence, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his shoulder as the high fades into a warm, sated glow.
you lift your head, meeting his gaze, those dark eyes soft now, stripped of the earlier hunger but no less intense.
he’s still inside you, the weight of him a comforting pressure, your walls molded to his girth like they've forgotten how to let go.
gently, you reach up, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead, the strands sticking slightly to his skin from the sweat of your shared frenzy.
“you know, if you ever get tired of being a donor...” you say, the words trailing off with a knowing lilt, the implication hanging between you like an unspoken promise.
he chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating where you're connected, making you shift slightly and feel him nudge deeper.
“i know where to find you,” he finishes your sentence, knowing you too well. his voice is rough from exertion but laced with that familiar tease, his hands stroking your back in slow, soothing circles.
you smile, leaning in closer, your nose brushing his, “mhm, you know where to find me,” you reply, the words sealing the quiet vow.
then he closes the gap, capturing your lips in one last, slow kiss — soft and unhurried, tongues tangling lazily as if savoring the taste of each other after the storm.
✚ THE ORGASM DONORS ARE NOW OPEN ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
an: and the first founding father is done! anyone else hot and bothered rn? 🙈 because i was lowkey so horny every time i wrote for this 😇…i hope you liked donor johnny! let me know what you think! if you hate it please keep it to yourself i can’t handle hate rn bro mark just left nct 😐 ANYWAY, we go back to regular orgasm donor layout in the next stories! and a kind reminder: this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! please don't take it too seriously :)
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
i want to suck his nipples… just for fun, just to see how he reacts… i want to fill his abs with hickeys.. he makes me feel sick i want him so badly… he’s defo the type of guy to have you straddling him while he pounds into you harshly. his big strong hands holding your wrists behind your back tightly.. ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა
When Soobin’s met with a new face at the library he’s unsure of how to react! Especially when you place down a pile of questionable books for him to scan he just can’t help but listen to your rants more intently than he should ₊˚ෆ
╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...
…or in simple words… ʟɪʙʀᴀʀɪᴀɴ!sᴏᴏʙɪɴ x sᴍᴜᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ᝰ.ᐟ teaser wc - 1k
expected release - September 10-15th
mentions!! and warnings!! (for full fic) sub!soobin x dom!reader, mutual masturbation, touching in semi-public space (library), whiny soob, unprotected p in v, light pinching, praise, nipple play, cum eating, soobin’s quite shy and wears glasses. perv!reader
tyunningism notes: the shorter fics are back again and this time with my fav sub!soobin bc everyone on my blr should know I love this man to bits. So I've written up the teaser as fast as I could for you guys to tune into before the full fic release <3
Soobin doesn’t have the greatest luck with romance— he doesn’t need to be reminded about that. Having wallowed himself in self-pity for 24 years the cliché fairytale endings he fawned over, with his hands cupping his cheeks, are almost nowhere to be found in his books of blank, boring pages.
It’s an ongoing joke he makes out of himself that if his love life were a book he’d consist of 99.99% filler, and would most definitely be paired with an equally, unappealingly plain cover plastered ‘8760 days of Choi Soobin not getting laid’. And every chapter would begin with the same heartbreaking story of how he’s born with a natural cast to him that spells away any woman within 5 feet of him aside from his mom; who is constantly ushering him to bring home a loving girlfriend now that he’s reached his sombre mid-twenties.
Well, it’s looking quite sombre for him already working as a librarian on the weekends while the rest of his friends are spending their twenties with arguably cooler jobs in their own respective lives (not to mention filled with women too). To Soobin at least, being a top-viewed streamer like Beomgyu or a choreographer like his friend Yeonjun is miles better than sorting out torn and crappy books borrowed way past their due dates.
Books that found themselves on someone’s desk left just as untouched and unread as it was on the shelf they were picked off, and where he’d have to place them back into later before heading back to the confines of the front desk— to you guessed it, scan another pile of mundane novels and travel guides.
With that being said, there is a little something the librarian secretly looks forward to every shift. A break from the constant gentle hushing he can’t bring himself to emphasise any louder when a group of students are too loud. A break from the flicking of pages and clicking of keyboards that bounce off the high ceilings of the library when you creep inside with two or three books Soobin can recall you borrowing from the day before.
That’s what makes his day definitively less boring knowing you’re actually interested in reading the pink lovey-dovey books you force him to scan with sparkly eyes while your lips spell out each memorised line of the books you borrowed from your last visit here. You never miss the opportunity to speak passionately even in front of an awkward robot like Soobin who’s programmed to only smile and nod in response. But that’s not to blame him for being awkward…okay maybe it is partially to do with that, but it’s mainly to do with the shock factor of your words that leave your prettily shaped lips which seem incapable of such explicit lust.
See it started from when Soobin first turned up to work in his oddly squared glasses and knitted brown sweater during the early phases of fall. A long but bearable line had formed at the desk as people rushed to leave with their books before they could be stranded by the downpour of rain forecasted later that day. His hair was slightly tousled from the number of times he ran a hand down his scalp in frustration when the old library system— designed a decade before he was born— refused to sync with the scanner clutched in his palm.
Despite the poor first impression of a slightly annoyed version of him you had placed one of your books down onto the desk with a welcoming smile being the last person at the end of the long line. He remembers the way your eyes strip searched him the second he reached for the book; a nervous gulp caught halfway in his throat as you leaned your weight onto the desk and inched closer with your elbows resting on the wood.
‘Rêves De La Demoiselle Érotique’ he had whispered the title mindlessly and butchered the pronunciation terribly upon first glance of yet another plain cover, although salmon-pink and leather hard-back with a foreign title he wasn’t literate enough in French to decipher.
“You would so freak out if I told you what that meant Mr Librarian.” He remembers being caught off guard too by the exact charm to your voice he’s still drawn to now. When you had giggled at his confusion, and then laughed harder when he pointed to the tacky ‘Hello, my name is Soobin’ badge pinned proper through the holes of his knitted sweater.
It wasn’t a great start that he forgot to use his words with you, completely enamoured by the sound of lightweight laughter to even try to protest your assumption when you began to ramble shortly after seeing his perked eyebrows and suddenly straightened posture.
“It’s French for Dreams of an Erotic Damsel. Crazy, isn’t it? At first glance it looks really boring but I’m surprised I managed to get off to it like four times? — that was TMI wasn’t it? I forgot that Heeseung doesn’t work here anymore but if he did, he would’ve jacked off to it like ten times. And don’t even get me started on—”
The rest of your rant has since become fuzzy in the librarian’s memory. Now only being able to recall the vital (loud) parts of your introduction to him as you delved into the gritty details of the rated 18 book you had shamelessly passed onto him to scan before digging into his business.
“You don’t look like the type to read smutty novels Soobin? Your handwriting is horrible you know, like geez, the double Os look like boobs,” looking down at his name badge once more he quickly scrambled to cover it in embarrassment while you entertained yourself in watching him become flustered so easily. Input and output guys, you’d like to call it with how they reacted perfectly suited to your tastes with a bit of teasing and playful dirtiness, “but you don’t seem to hate the idea of smut books either with how you’re blushing ear to ear right now. I’ve been dying to find a new book buddy now that Hee’s left!”
And that leads the two of you to present day. President and vice-president of Tyunningism Library’s Smut Book Club consisting of you and him, him and you— his new budding crush and on the side lines his ‘literature sex’ reader partner too.
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