Synopsis: Boring history class, earphones plugged in and an unexpected someone broke her inner peace.
History teacher is out of the classroom as a history dovumentary plays on the TV screen. Some are watching while others aren't. Sohyun is zoning out, wired earphones plugged in her ears.
Jihyun came to classroom, a bit sweaty from the baseball practice as he sat down beside Sohyun. Since History class is the last subject before the school ends. Players of the campus baseball team either attend the class or not, since it isn't mandatory for them to attend.
But Jihyun attended the class. He sat down and looked at Sohyun beside him. He smiled as he watched her zoning out.
Suddenly, he pulled out the right earphone. Sohyun went back from day dreaming and was going to glare at someone who just ruined her inner peace, as Jihyun plugged the earphone to his ear so that he could hear what kind of music does Sohyun listen.
Together, they listen to Sohyun's playlist.
"You listening to this? Sounds cool."
Sohyun's heart skipped a beat as she doesn't know there's a person like Jihyun who listen to her emo rock music choice.
As the mellow guitar riffs and vocals filled their ears, Sohyun felt a flutter in her chest. She glanced at Jihyun, noticing the way his eyes were closed, a small smile playing on his lips.
Sohyun's mind began to wander again, this time not lost in thought but fixating on the man beside her. Her gaze drifted over his jawline, his nose and lips. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through that hair, to lean in close and breathe him in…
"Hey."
"Hm?" Sohyun tear his gaze away from his lips. She felt hot on her cheeks as she may be caught looking at him.
"Can I lean on your shoulder?"
Sohyun nodded before she even think. Jihyun lean his head on her shoulder as they listen to their shared music while not caring about the documentary playing on the TV across them.
Lost in the music, Sohyun's awareness narrowed to the sensation of Jihyun's breath against her collarbone, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
After a while, the bell signaled that the school hours has ended. Students stood up to pack their things. Both Sohyun and Jihyun stood up at the same time.
"Your music choices are amazing. Really." Jihyun gave her double thumbs up. Sohyun chuckled shyly.
They left the classroom but they parted ways as Sohyun joining her fellow members of dance club while Jihyun is going home.
As Sohyun watched Jihyun exiting through the school gates, she palmed her chest, her heart beating faster like she ran a marathon.
"Nah... Maybe he's just friendly. I don't think he's into me." Sohyun shaked her head slightly then walked towards to the dance studio.
As she stretched and warmed up with the rest of the dance club, Sohyun moved almost mechanically, her mind still consumed by Jihyun. Sohyun didn't know if she hated it or not.
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Day after day, Both of them slowly getting closer. Sharing their music playlists, their favorite foods even debating if Marvel's Avengers will win against DC's Justice League.
One night. They are strolling across the park, when Jihyun suddenly stopped.
"Sohyun."
"Yes?" Sohyun stopped as well. She looked up at him. Curious about what was Jihyun going to say.
"I know this is surprising but... I like you, Sohyun. I like you and I wanted you to be my girlfriend."
Sohyun was shocked, she kinda expected that but hearing it directly from him still made her jaw dropped.
"I.... I don't know what to say, Jihyun. I liked you too but..." Sohyun sighed then she held his hand. "I'm not ready to commit into a relationship. Not yet. I hope you understand that."
Instead of feeling sad, Jihyun understands Sohyun. If Sohyun doesn't want to commit to anything beyond friends, then he understand.
"It's okay. I understand you, Sohyun. I can wait even if it takes years. I wanted to tell you that my heart belongs to you." Jihyun hugged Sohyun. Which she embraced him in response.
"I'm really glad you understand me, Jihyun."
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One night, Jihyun heard a knock on his door. He opens it and saw Sohyun with two bags. "Sohyun? Why are you- Come in. It's cold out there." He ushered her inside his apartment. He guides her to the couch and Sohyun sat down on it.
He gave her a glass of water. "What happened, Sohyun? Did something wrong at home?"
Sohyun took a long sip of water before sighs deeply. "My step-father... He's a gambling addict. It started last year and his addiction is the reason why my mother fought with him."
"Today, he attempted to use the savings of the music produce course that my mother kept it for me. They fought once again and my mother told me to leave the house to keep me safe but I... I said I didn't want to leave her with that man but she insisted."
Jihyun listen to her story with concern. He took her hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
"I can't believe that you're going through this, Sohyun." His thumb rubbing circles on her knuckles. "Your mother did a good thing to keep you away from your step-father."
He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Sohyun leaned into him, craving the comfort and support only he seemed able to provide.
"You're welcome to stay here for as long as you want." Jihyun assured her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I'm glad you come over here."
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Sohyun is basically living with Jihyun on his apartment. They shared chores and they watched movies sometimes.
Two weeks later, Sohyun knocked at Jihyun's bedroom. She's on her sleeping pajamas. Jihyun ushered her inside and they sat at the edge of his bed.
"So... What is it?"
Sohyun took a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes. "Yesterday, I was approached by a man named Mr. Han after the dance club session. He was with the principal and he inteoduced himself as the talent scout for Kpop companies."
"So... Did you just... scouted?"
"Well...." Sohyun reached out to hold his hands. "Kinda... Like... Mr. Han offered me a push to the companies to become a trainee but in one condition..."
"What is it?" Jihyun felt something was wrong. Sohyun didn't answer immediately, Jihyun had to ask her again.
"Mr. Han told me that I need to... to... offer myself to him... for me to able to become a trainee." Sohyun felt her heart heavier as she said all of it to Jihyun.
As exepcted. Jihyun went silent then he broke the deafning silence. "Tell me that'a a joke, Sohyun. You declined it, right? Tell me.."
"I... I didn't agreed. I also didn't rejected the offer."
"Sohy-"
"I know... I know... I should've just straight up rejected his offer but... this is once in a lifetime opportunity, Jihyun. I dream to become an idol and someone who makes music. You know that, right?"
"But that man is a sick person, Sohyun. He's taking advantage of you. You knew that very well!"
"I know! It's sick and twisted but... this is the chance that I got." Sohyun cupped his face. "I came here to tell you that I'll give you a permission to have sex with me."
Sohyun leaned to kiss his lips gently. "You're the only man that I trust, Jihyun. Tonight is all about us. Just us."
Jihyun's breath hitched as Sohyun pressed her forehead against his, her words hanging heavy in the air between them. Torn between the overwhelming desire to give her what she wanted and the instinct to protect her at all costs.
"Sohyun…" His hands sliding down to rest on her hips. "Are you sure about this? I… I want nothing more than to make your first time special but I don't want you to feel pressured or regret anything… I know you can still become an artist without sacrificing your virginity."
"Yes, Jihyun... I wanted this.. Wanted you to be my first."
As their lips met, Jihyun poured all his pent-up passion and adoration into the kiss. His arms wrapped around Sohyun's waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he deepened the embrace. She melted into him, savoring the feeling of finally being claimed by the man she trusted most.
Slowly, gently, Jihyun laid Sohyun back onto the bed, hovering over her. "You're so beautiful." he murmured against her lips. "I will to cherish every inches of you."
With tender kisses and touches, Jihyun explored the curves of Sohyun's body, worshipping her with his touch.
They undressed each other clothes until both of them are bare naked. They kissed again, hungrier this time. Tongue to tongue, teeth to teeth.
As he trailed his mouth lower, Jihyun lavished attention on the column of Sohyun's throat. He suckled lightly at her pulse point, relishing the hitch in her breathing. When his lips reached the swell of her breasts, he paused to admire the breathtaking sight of her under the moonlight.
"So beautiful.." Jihyun murmured appreciatively, his palms molding to the soft weight of her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, watching in fascination as it harden under his touch.
Jihyun's hot breath ghosted over Sohyun's sensitive nipples, making her squirm with anticipation. Unable to resist any longer, he closed his mouth around a nipple, suckling gently as his tongue swirled and flicked teasingly.
"Ooohhh~~!" A breathy moan spilled from Sohyun's lips, her back arching to push more of her breast into Jihyun's eager mouth.
Jihyun lavished equal attention on both breasts, alternating between licking, sucking, and grazing with his teeth. His hands kneaded the supple flesh, thumbs continuing their maddening circles around the stiffened tips.
After her breasts, Jihyun trailed down kisses on her tummy until his face is mere inches on her glistering virgin clit. He put his tongue out to lick it slowly. "Wait- It.. tickles! But keep... going please..."
Jihyun smiled against Sohyun's inner thigh as he heard her breathless response. Encouraged, he parted her legs further, settling between them. He traced the seam of her folds, marveling at how wet she already was for him.
"Just relax, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good."
Slowly, deliberately, he dragged the flat of his tongue along her slit, savoring her sweet taste. He focused on her clit, circling and flicking the swollen nub with the tip of his tongue. Sohyun's hips bucked involuntarily, a high-pitched keen escaping her throat.
He pushed his middle finger and felt the warmest and tightest of her. Clearly that Sohyun has never been touched. He takes time to make her adjust to the new feeling.
Jihyun carefully worked his middle finger inside Sohyun's. He held still, letting her adjust to the unfamiliar sensation, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on her hip.
"That's it, baby. Just breathe."
After a moment, he began to move slowly, shallow thrusts that gradually increased in depth as Sohyun relaxed around him. His thumb found her clit, rubbing gentle circles around it.
Sohyun's walls clenched tightly around Jihyun's finger as he slowly pumped it in and out. Pleasure and slight discomfort intermingled, creating a confusing but exciting mix of sensations.
"Oh my... god... Fuck... It feels.. so good!" She whimpered and moaned softly, her hips starting to rock subtly against his hand, seeking more friction. Jihyun could feel her getting wetter, her arousal coating his finger and dripping down to the sheets below.
"Please, Jihyun… I need more."
Jihyun lean forward as he put his tongue out. Gently and slowly licking along her glistering folds that made Sohyun gasp loudly.
Jihyun's tongue delved deeper, lapping up Sohyun's copious arousal as he savored her unique flavor.
Jihyun added a second finger to her clenching channel, stretching her gently. Sohyun's back arched, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.
Jihyun starts finding her G-spot. The moment that Sohyun lets a loud squeal that covers her own mouth instantly, Jihyun knew he got it as he slowly stroking that spot. He didn't rush, He didn't pressure her. He take his time for her to adjust and experience her firsts.
In his mind, He still hated the fact that Sohyun is going to submit herself to that old man for a chance to get into the music industry but then he's lucky to be Sohyun's first.
For now, though, he focused solely on bringing her pleasure, his tongue swirling around her clit as his fingers worked her G-spot with deliberate slowness. He wanted this to last, to etch every moment into their memory as something precious.
"Jihyun... Fuckkk.. I'm feeling... something.."
Jihyun recognized the telltale signs: the rapid shallowing of her breaths, the fluttering of her eyelids, the way her inner walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers.
With a surge of tenderness and possessiveness, Jihyun redoubled his efforts, lavishing Sohyun's clit with fervent licks and sucks. He curled his fingers just so, grinding against that magic spot deep within her as her climax built.
"Yes, baby, let it go. I'm here with you. Give yourself to it."
Sohyun's world narrowed to the explosive sensations. Every stroke of his fingers, every lap of his tongue sens her towards to the climax.
Then, with a throaty groan, Sohyun's body tensed, her back arching off the bed as the most intense orgasm of her life crashed over her. Wave after wave of orgasm washed through her, leaving her trembling and breathless.
"You did great, Sohyun. You had your first orgasm." Jihyun kissed her soaked clit.
Sohyun through her half lidded eyes, she reached out to cup Jihyun's cheek. "Jihyun... It's my turn.. Can I do it?"
Jihyun nodded. Sohyun reaches out to wrap her fingers around Jihyun's cock as she slowly stroking up and down. "Am I doing it right?"
"It's perfect, baby. Keep doing it."
Encouraged, Sohyun redoubled her efforts, her grip tightening slightly as she picked up speed.
"Like this?"
"Yes, just like that... Fuccckkk..." Jihyun panted, his head falling back as he surrendered to Sohyun's handjob.
"Can I taste you?" He nodded.
Jihyun's cock twitched as Sohyun positioned herself between his thighs. He watched as her tongue darted out to lap at the underside of his cock, tasting the salty precum beading at the tip.
"Mmm~ you're so hard and hot."
Jihyun's hands fisted in the sheets as Sohyun took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock before trailing back down to the base.
Then Sohyun braced herself as she took him on her mouth, inch by inch with her tongue swirling underside of Jihyun's cock. Jihyun groaned at the sight of Sohyun taking him on her mouth, the feeling of her warm and wet inexperienced mouth on him.
"Sohyun, you're doing so well. Look at you, taking my cock like a pro already."
Flushed with pride and arousal, Sohyun met his gaze, her eyes glazed with lust as she continued to work him over with increasing confidence. Jihyun's hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as he lost himself in the sensation of her warm, wet mouth.
"Fuck, baby, you're going to make me come soon."
Suddenly, Sohyun pulled back. "Can you hold it for a bit? I'll lay down and you... you do it."
"Yeah... sure."
Sohyun pulls out something from the discarded pajama on the floor and it was a condom. Sohyun lay down on the bed, spreading her legs wide as inviting him closer to her.
After ripping open the condom packet, Jihyun puts it on his throbbing cock, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation. As he positioned himself between Sohyun's spread thighs, he almost forgot to breathe, this is it.
Sohyun cupped his face. "Jihyun. I want this. I want you."
Jihyun slowly pushing his cock inside her. Penetrating her virgin inner walls, stretching her wide. Sohyun's face changed as she felt an intense pain. "Fuck... Keep.. going... don't stop... please..."
Because Sohyun is already wet moments ago, it was quite easy yet Jihyun needed a bit force to thrust inside. He make sure he's still gentle and not trying to make Sohyun hurt even more.
Jihyun slowly pulling out until the tip remains inside, he saw a sheer of blood coating the condom.
He plunged his cock inside of her slowly until he was balls deep. He didn't move, just wanted to make Sohyun adjust herself.
Sohyun gently pats his arm. "You can move now."
Jihyun began to move, his hips rocking in a slow rhythm. Each glide brought a fresh wave of pleasure, her wetness coating his cock and easing the way for deeper penetration.
"F-fuck, you feel amazing." Jihyun groaned, his control slipping as the sensations intensified. He leaned down to capture Sohyun's lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing her moans as he started to pick up pace, driven by the primal urge to claim her completely.
After a while, Jihyun pulled her up closer to him as he guides her to ride his cock. Her arms and legs wrapped around him as she started to ride him, their lips remained locked in a loving heated kiss. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest.
As Sohyun rose and fell on his cock, Jihyun broke the kiss to watch her riding him. Her inner walls clenched around him, milking his cock with each descent.
"God. You're so beautiful like this."
Emboldened by his words, Sohyun increased her tempo, her hips snapping faster as she chased her second orgasm.
Jihyun's fingers dug into the supple flesh of Sohyun's ass as he drove up into her, meeting her frantic rhythm. The room echoed with their ragged breathing, lewd moans, and the slick sound of flesh slapping against flesh.
"So close, baby…" Jihyun grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared the brink.
"Yes~! Yes~! Fuck! I'm almost... Almost~!"
With a hoarse shout, Jihyun shoots hot seed pumped directly into the condom. Sohyun's inner walls spasmed around him, milking every drop as she came undone in his arms.
They crashed back to the bed, Sohyun lay atop of him, nuzzled into his neck as Jihyun wrapped her arms around her.
Jihyun smiled because he's lucky enough to become Sohyun's first man to kiss her and to claim her virginity.
"Hey.."
"Yeah?"
"You can still do more?"
"Baby, you're insatiable." he chuckled, rolling them onto their sides to face each other. "But I'm always up for more... with you."
Sohyun nodded and smiled. She reached out to pull the condom full of Jihyun's semen out of his cock and ties the condom tightly then throws it on the bin.
She gave him another condom to use. While Jihyun putting it on his cock, Sohyun bends over infront of him.
Jihyun still couldn't believe at the sight of Sohyun's bare ass, high and rounded, just begging to be spanked or claimed.
Jihyun ran a hand along her spine, feeling the heat of her skin, before gripping her hip and pulling her back against him.
"I'm going to fuck you from behind now, baby." Jihyun murmured in her ear. Sohyun nodded. "Yes, Please..."
Jihyun entered Sohyun from behind. Slowly pushed his cock inside her. Sohyun moan softly as Jihyun starts to thrust in and out of her.
Her hands grasping the sheets tightly as Jihyun's thrusts hitting her spot. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't hold... fuck- back.. Fuck me like you... you meant it."
Jihyun's control snapped at Sohyun's plea, he started thrusting in an animalistic pace. The angle allowed him to hit her G-spot dead-on, and her keening moans spurred him on.
"Yes, just like that!" Sohyun cried, her nails digging into the sheets as she arched her back, presenting herself fully to Jihyun's relentless thrusts. "Harder, Jihyun! Fuck me harder!"
Jihyun pistoned into Sohyun's clenching heat. He reached around to fondle her breasts, tweaking her nipples between his fingers as he ravaged her from behind.
Sweat beaded on Jihyun's brow, his muscles coiled with tension as he chased his impending release.
"Fuck... I'm so close, Sohyun!"
Jihyun's thrusts became more brutal and erratic as he's nearing his climax. Sohyun's pussy tightened around him, milking his cock.
With a loud grunt, Jihyun slammed deep inside Sohyun, his cock pulsing as he filled the condom with his hot seed. Sohyun groaned at the pillow as her own orgasm ripped through her, her inner walls rippling around Jihyun's still spurting cock.
Finally, with a shuddering exhale, Jihyun collapsed forward, his forehead resting against Sohyun's sweat-dampened shoulder. They clung to each other, panting and trembling in the aftermath.
After a moments of deep breaths, Sohyun tilted her head to look at him over her shoulder with a sheepish grin. "You know what? There's one more condom."
Jihyun just laughed weakly, his whole body was sore and all but he didn't dismissed her either. He's all in for Sohyun. No matter what.
"Alright, baby.. One more time. But we'll make it quick, yeah?"
He positioned behind her as her sweaty bare back pressed agaisnt his chest. His left arm hooked on her leg to raise it up as Jihyun's cock enters inside her wet pussy once again then started to thrust in and out. Sohyun helped him by grinding herself onto him.
Their bodies moved in sync, a sensual dance of give-and-take as they chased their final climax together. Jihyun's breath came in ragged gasps against Sohyun's ear, his hips snapping faster as he neared the edge once more.
"That's it, baby… come with me." Jihyun panted, his fingers digging into Sohyun's flesh as he pistoned into her.
With a guttural moan, Jihyun slammed home, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm overtook him. His cock pulsed and throbbed, unleashing a torrent of seed into the condom. Sohyun's inner walls clamped down around him, milking his length as she found her own release, her cries mingling with Jihyun's.
They collapsed together, Jihyun's spent cock still nestled within Sohyun's quivering pussy. Panting and trembling, they clung to each other.
In the quiet that followed, Jihyun pressed soft kisses to Sohyun's neck and shoulder.
Jihyun realized that Sohyun already asleep on his arms. He chuckled and leaned to her ear. "Good night, Sohyun."
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Morning came and they shared a breakfast with a smile. Jihyun chuckled at the thought that they just made love last night but still remained friends. He was just glad that Sohyun trusted him to claim her first time.
Two weeks later, Sohyun need to move out because she's now a trainee of a newly built music company made by a highly respected creative director named Mr. Jeong. Sohyun also got a chance to become the company's producer for future songs. She's backing out of college to pursue her music career.
Jihyun helped her pack her things. He and Sohyun stood each other at the side of the road, waiting for the taxi.
Jihyun is sad because he and sohyun will live seperately from now on but he's happy that Sohyun will able to reach her dreams.
"Sohyun. Whatever happens, you know where to go. I'll be always here with you. Okay?"
Sohyun hugged him. "Thank you, Jihyun. For being here with me through ups and downs. I will never ever forget you."
Jihyun still waved his hand even through Sohyun's taxi disappear at the corner. He was willing to wait for her even if it takes years and years.
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Years later.
Jihyun is looking forward to this exact moment. Sohyun's group named TripleS is the guest artist for his team Kiwoom Heroes.
He watched her perform with her fellow members from afar. He was so proud of her.
After a grueling long match, His team are able to defeat the defending champions and he is hailed as the MVP.
Chaotic celebration happened on their dugout. Jihyun sneaked outside and the timing is right because Sohyun is looking for him.
Jihyun's heart raced as he spotted Sohyun across from him, her radiant smile lighting up the evening air. Their reunion was everything he had dreamed of.
As they pulled each other close, Jihyun breathed in the familiar scent of Sohyun's shampoo, feeling the warmth of her body against his.
"We did it, Sohyun." Jihyun murmured, his lips brushing against Sohyun's temple. "We're standing here, successful and finally together again."
Sohyun nodded. "It's been too long, Jihyun. I've missed you so much."
Sohyun heard her manager calling her that she need to leave the stadium to go home with her members.
Sohyun's hand held his for a little while. "I'll text you the place. You don't need to bring anything, just come tonight."
With a lingering kiss to Sohyun's forehead, Jihyun reluctantly released her hand, watching as she hurried into the stadium's parking lot.
Two hours later. Sohyun opens the door and let him look at her camisole that fits on her body.
Without a word, Jihyun closed the distance between them, his hands coming to rest on Sohyun's hips as he pulled her flush against him.
"I've waited for this.." Jihyun growled, his lips pressed the sensitive spot of Sohyun's neck. "For you."
And with that, the night unfolded in a blur of desperate kisses, roaming hands, and the urgent shedding of clothing.
Tags : Pet play, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Face-fucking, Vaginal sex, Anal sex, Creampie, Sex against window, Recording, Praise kink, Dirty talk, Orgasm control, Cum play
Words : 3120
The summons came through her private phone at 9:47 PM — a single message from a number saved under a name no one else would recognize.
My office. Now.
Sohyun's pulse kicked against her ribs in that familiar way, half nerves and half thirst. She was already dressed for it — she'd known, somehow, when she chose the white camisole this morning instead of the thicker blouse. Tight enough to show the shape of her breasts through the fabric, the outline of her nipples visible if the light hit right. The low-waist brown pants sat below her navel, a strip of bare skin showing above the waistband. She'd painted her nails two nights ago, pink-lavender, running a brush along each with care, imagining his hands holding hers to examine them.
She slipped the black cardigan over her shoulders — open, never buttoned — and grabbed her bag. Told her roommate she forgot something in the practice room. The lie came easy now.
The company building was mostly dark on the upper floors. Security knew her face, waved her through. The elevator hummed ascending, and she watched her reflection in the polished brass doors — the flush already rising across her collarbone, the soft wet heat beginning between her thighs.
She knocked on his door. Three light taps.
Come in, pet.
He never said it aloud. It was always in the message that appeared on her phone after she knocked. She pushed the door open.
The office took up the whole corner of the fifteenth floor. City lights bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul spread out below like circuitry. His desk sat at the far end, mahogany, spotless except for a single lamp casting amber light across the surface. Bookshelves lined one wall. A dark gray couch against another.
He sat behind the desk, watching her enter. Dark suit jacket draped over the chair behind him, sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his forearms. The silver glint at his temples caught the lamplight. His eyes moved over her slowly, deliberately, the way a man checks something he owns for damage.
"Lock it," he said.
She turned the deadbolt. The click echoed.
"Come here."
She walked toward the desk, and he watched every step — the sway of her hips, the way her bare stomach tensed with each stride. When she reached the edge of the desk, he held up one hand.
"Stop."
She stopped.
"Look at me."
She raised her eyes. His gaze pinned her where she stood, and she felt it everywhere — between her legs, in the tightening of her nipples against the camisole, in the way her breath shortened without her permission.
"You've been good today?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Tell me."
"I was good today. I did everything you asked. I thought about you during the video shoot. I thought about coming here."
"Thought about what would happen when you did?"
She nodded, her cheeks burning.
"Use your words."
"Yes. I thought about what you'd do to me."
Something shifted in his face — not softening, but deepening. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a strip of black leather. Thin, maybe half an inch wide. A small silver O-ring at the end.
"Come around."
She walked around the desk, her legs unsteady. He turned in his chair to face her, and she stood between his knees, close enough to smell his cologne — sandalwood and something metallic, like clean coins.
He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, feather-light. She leaned into his touch.
"You're so beautiful," he said quietly, and the shift in his voice — from command to something softer — made her chest ache. "Every time I see you, it surprises me. That you're real. That you're here."
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm always here."
His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair at the nape. He tilted her head back gently, studying her face like a painting.
"I know, baby. I know." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft, lingering. "You're my good girl. My perfect little pet."
She felt the words in her stomach, warm and liquid.
"Will you wear this for me?"
He held up the leash. The silver buckle caught the lamplight.
"Yes," she said. "Please."
His hands were gentle as he fastened the collar around her neck — a second, thinner strap of black leather fitted to her throat, the O-ring resting just below her Adam's apple. He buckled it at the back, his fingers brushing her nape. Then he clipped the leash to the ring, and the weight of it tugged forward slightly.
"There."
He sat back, holding the leather coiled loosely in his fist. She watched his chest rise and fall with a slow breath. His eyes were dark, reverent.
"Look at you."
She felt the collar against her skin, the leash a line of tension between them. Her pulse beat against the leather.
"On your knees, pet."
She sank slowly, her knees meeting the carpet. The leash went slack as she descended. She looked up at him from the floor, her hands resting on her thighs.
"Good girl." His thumb traced her lower lip, pressing slightly. She parted her mouth, and he slid his thumb inside. She sucked gently, watching his eyes darken. "That's it. You know what to do."
He pulled his thumb free, wet and glistening, and wiped it across her lower lip.
"Undo my pants."
Her fingers found his belt — familiar now, practiced. The leather tongue slid free, the button popped, the zipper descended. She pulled his pants open and his cock sprang up against his stomach, already hard. The sight of it sent a pulse through her cunt. Thick, veined, the head flushed dark, a bead of pre-cum pearled at the slit.
She licked her lips without thinking.
"You want it?"
"Yes. Please. I want to taste you."
"Then show me how hungry you are. Open."
She opened her mouth wide, tongue flat and waiting. He guided the head to her lips and she took him in, slow, savoring the first stretch of her lips around his girth. Her tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft, tracing the ridge of a vein. She heard his breath catch above her.
"Fuck. Yeah. Just like that."
She sank deeper, taking him inch by inch, her throat relaxing to accept him. Her nose reached his pelvis and she held there, her throat full, her eyes watering. She looked up at him — the leash still in his grip, the city lights behind him — and the sight made her cunt clench around nothing.
He let her set the rhythm at first, watching her bob her head along his length. Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. Saliva ran down her chin, slick and obscene. She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, and the sounds — wet, hungry, desperate — filled the office.
"That's my girl," he groaned, his hips beginning to rock. "Look at you. On your knees. Leashed. Taking my cock down your throat like you were made for it."
She moaned around him, the vibration making his grip tighten on the leash.
"You were made for it, weren't you? Made for me."
She pulled off just long enough to gasp, "Yes. Made for you. Only for you," before taking him back, deeper this time, pushing past her gag reflex and feeling her throat stretch around the head of his cock.
His hand moved to her hair, gathering the long black strands in his fist. "Deep breath, pet."
She inhaled through her nose, and he thrust upward, burying himself fully in her throat. She felt his pelvis against her face, his balls against her chin. The pressure was everything — the fullness, the submission, the way her throat pulsed around him. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them.
He held her there for three heartbeats, four, five. Then he pulled back, letting her breathe, and the air hit her raw throat like a burn.
"Good. So good." He stroked her hair, his voice thick. "Again."
She took him again, and again, each time deeper, her throat loosening, her hunger growing. Saliva soaked the front of her camisole, the white fabric clinging to the swell of her breasts. Her hands moved to her own body — one gripping her thigh, the other pressing between her legs, rubbing herself through the brown pants.
He caught her wrist. "No. That's mine. You don't touch without permission."
She whined, pulling off his cock. "Please. I need—"
"I know what you need. Turn around. Hands on the window."
She pushed to her feet, unsteady, her legs shaking. The leash stayed clipped to her collar as she crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window. Seoul spread below her, thousands of lights, thousands of people with no idea what was happening behind this glass. The thought made her dizzy.
She placed her palms flat against the cool glass. Her reflection stared back — flushed, wrecked, the collar dark against her throat.
Behind her, she heard his belt unbuckle fully, his pants drop. She didn't turn.
"Arch your back."
She pushed her hips out, bending at the waist, pressing her chest toward the glass. Her breasts flattened against the cool surface, her nipples tightening into hard peaks against the camisole. The brown pants were pulled tight across her ass.
He stepped behind her and ran one hand down her spine, over the curve of her ass, gripping the flesh hard. His other hand yanked her pants and underwear down to her mid-thighs, exposing her. The air hit her wet cunt and she shivered.
"Look at you. So wet for me. So ready."
She felt his cock slide between her thighs, not entering, just dragging through her slickness, coating himself. She pushed back against him, trying to take him in, but he held her hips still.
"Ask me."
"Please," she gasped. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me."
"Inside where?"
"My pussy. Please put your cock in my pussy. I need it so bad."
"Good girl."
He lined up and pushed in, one slow, relentless inch at a time. Her cunt stretched around him, gripping, pulling him deeper. She cried out, her forehead pressing against the window. The city spread below, indifferent.
"Fuck, you're tight," he growled, his hands gripping her hips. "Every time. Like you've never been touched."
He bottomed out, his pelvis against her ass, and stayed there. She felt him pulsing inside her, felt the fullness reaching deep into her belly.
"Look at yourself."
She raised her eyes to her reflection — the girl in the window, collared, pants around her thighs, breasts flattened against the glass, a man buried inside her. Her own face, slack with pleasure, eyes half-lidded.
"See what you are," he said, beginning to move. Slow, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive inch of her walls. "You're my pet. My perfect little whore. You belong to me."
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I'm yours."
He fucked her slow at first, each thrust deliberate, watching himself disappear into her body. Her breasts pressed and dragged against the cold glass, the friction through the camisole making her nipples ache. Her hands slid on the window as she braced against each impact.
Then his pace quickened, his grip tightening on her hips hard enough to bruise. The sounds — his skin slapping against hers, her moans, the wet noise of his cock pumping into her — filled the office.
"Harder," she begged. "Please, harder."
He gave it to her. His thrusts turned punishing, deep and fast, driving her into the glass. Her breath fogged the window in front of her face. Her tits bounced with each impact, pressed flat then released, the camisole soaked with sweat and saliva.
"Whose pussy is this?"
"Yours. All yours."
"Say my name."
"CEO," she gasped. "Sir—"
"No. My name."
She knew it. He'd given it to her in the dark of his bed one night, whispered against her hair. She'd never said it to anyone else.
"Jaeho," she breathed.
His rhythm stuttered. He leaned over her, his chest against her back, his mouth at her ear.
"Again."
"Jaeho. Please. Please don't stop."
He didn't. He drove into her, faster, harder, the head of his cock hitting that deep spot inside her that made her vision blur. Her orgasm coiled tight in her gut, building with each stroke.
"I'm close," she whimpered. "I'm gonna—"
"Not yet. Not until I tell you."
She tried to hold it back, her muscles clenching around him, her whole body trembling. He reached around and pressed his fingers against her clit through the fabric of her panties, still bunched at her thighs.
"You want to come?"
"Yes. Yes, please."
"Then come for me. Come on my cock like a good pet."
He pressed hard on her clit and thrust deep, and she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, her cunt clenching and pulsing around him, her scream muffled against the glass. Her legs gave out but he held her up, still fucking her through it, drawing every wave out of her body.
When she came back to herself, she was slumped against the window, barely standing. Her reflection stared back, wrecked and beautiful.
He pulled out slowly, and she felt the absence like a loss.
"Don't move."
She stayed where she was, face against the glass, ass still exposed. She heard the drawer open — the soft click she recognized. The camera.
"Jaeho—"
"Shh. I know. You're so beautiful like this. I want to keep it."
She didn't argue. She never did. She heard the tiny red light come on.
"Show me your ass."
She pushed her hips back, presenting herself. The air was cool on her wet, swollen cunt.
"Spread yourself."
Her hand reached back, fingers finding her own skin, pulling her ass cheek aside. She heard him exhale, slow and reverent.
"Perfect." A soft click. "Now touch yourself. Show me how wet you are."
Her fingers slid through her slickness, gathering it, spreading it. She felt her own heat, the sheen of her arousal.
"Put your fingers in your mouth."
She obeyed, tasting herself on her tongue. Salty and sweet.
"Get on the couch. On your hands and knees."
She crawled across the carpet, the leash trailing behind her. The leather was damp and warm against her neck. She climbed onto the gray couch, positioning herself on her knees, her ass in the air.
He moved behind her, the camera still recording. She heard him spit, heard the wet sound of him working it into her.
"Open for me, pet."
She felt his thumb press against her asshole, circling, pressing gently until the ring of muscle gave way. She gasped, her fingers gripping the couch cushions.
"You want it here?"
"Yes. Please. I want you in my ass."
"Beg."
"Please, Jaeho. Please fuck my ass. I want to feel you there. I want to be so full of you. Please."
He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with the head of his cock, pressing slowly. She felt the stretch — different from her cunt, tighter, more intense. Her breath came in sharp gasps as he pushed past the first resistance.
"Breathe," he said, his voice strained. "Let me in."
She forced herself to relax, to open, and he slid deeper. The sensation was overwhelming — fullness and pressure and a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out.
"That's it. Taking me so well. All the way, baby."
He seated himself fully inside her, his pelvis flush against her ass. She felt impossibly full, stretched, claimed.
"Look at the camera."
She turned her head, finding the lens. Her eyes were glassy, her makeup smeared, her lips swollen and wet.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You," she whispered. "I belong to you."
He began to move, slow thrusts that made her whole body rock. The camera captured everything — the way her ass rippled with each impact, the leash swinging against her throat, the wet sound of him sliding in and out of her.
He fucked her ass with increasing urgency, his breathing ragged, his composure cracking. She pushed back into each thrust, taking him as deep as he could go, wanting all of him.
"I'm going to come," he warned. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside. Please. Fill me up."
"You want my cum in your ass?"
"Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to be full of you."
He drove into her one last time, buried to the hilt, and she felt his cock pulse inside her as he came. Hot, thick, endless. She felt each spurt, felt her body accepting it, claiming it. She moaned at the sensation — being filled, being marked from the inside.
When he finished, he stayed inside her for a long moment, both of them breathing hard. Then he pulled out slowly, and she felt the emptiness, felt the warmth of his cum beginning to leak out of her. It ran down her inner thigh, a slow trickle.
She collapsed sideways onto the couch, her body giving out completely. Her limbs felt like water. The leash lay coiled on the cushion beside her.
He set the camera down and knelt beside the couch. His hand found her hair, stroking gently, pushing the strands back from her face.
"You did so well, baby. So perfect."
She couldn't answer. Her body was still trembling, small aftershocks rolling through her muscles. She felt the cum seeping out of her, pooling on the cushion beneath her. The sensation was obscene and perfect.
He lifted her legs onto the couch and covered her with his suit jacket, the expensive fabric draping over her nakedness. He sat on the floor beside her, his back against the couch, his hand never leaving her hair.
"I love you," he said quietly. "You know that, right?"
She turned her head, her cheek against the cushion, looking at him through half-closed eyes. The city lights painted his face in gold and shadow.
"I love you too," she whispered. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For wanting me. All of me. Even this part."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth.
"This part is my favorite part. Because this part is only mine."
She smiled, small and dreamy, her body still humming with spent pleasure. The cum continued to leak out of her, warm against her skin. The camera's red light glowed silently from the desk, capturing her in the aftermath — limp, full, utterly owned.
A/N: Different from my previous work. It’s my first time writing something more explicit. If you’ve seen those photos of Sohyun… wow. I hope you enjoy!
Tags: fluff, smut, enemies to lovers
TW: violence, harassment
Park Sohyun x Male Reader
You hate this place.
The constant clacking of keyboards, the rustle of paper as people run to and fro, the constant whirring of the printer beside you. The office is just a hub of noise. You’re surprised work can actually get done.
But worst of all, you hate the giggling and the woman sat across from you.
Park Sohyun has been a thorn in your side ever since the pair of you joined the company three years ago. Always being partnered together in projects, you end up doing most of the work while she receives all the credit.
And you hate how popular she is. Your manager likes her far too much to be deemed appropriate but she takes it in stride, knows the line she shouldn’t cross to get her way. Despite her performance being average at best, she still gets preferential treatment.
The worst are the other employees milling about—always coming over to talk to her, to glance at her. Your station is the centre of traffic and it grates on your nerves. And it’s not just the men, but the women too.
A ball of crumpled paper lands on your keyboard.
“Oops. Sorry.”
You look up. See the shit eating grin on Sohyun’s face—and worse, Zhou Xinyu perched on her lap, laughing at something you didn’t hear.
Of course it’s her.
You continue to stare, refuse to break eye contact first. Then you see her hand move ever so slightly. Higher and higher on Zhou Xinyu’s thighs. You grip your mouse. Hard.
Jealous?
She mouths at you, enjoying your torment.
You take the crumpled ball and toss it back before standing and walking off.
You need a drink of water.
——
A minute later and you’re at the water cooler. You lean down, grab a plastic cup and pour yourself some water. You drink another. And another. You feel hot and dizzy, Sohyun’s teasing still on your mind.
How did she know about your crush? There’s no way she did all that and not know about it. You grip the edge of the cooler. She always knows.
You stand straight, loosening your tie before gulping down another cup. You stay at the cooler for a few more minutes, hoping by the time you’re back at your desk, Xinyu’s gone. Hope that Sohyun shuts up and does some work for once.
Your prayers weren’t answered.
You hear her before she comes into view—laughing, voice pitched low. An intern stammers something. Files hit the floor. You turn and look. She’s crouched beside the intern, handing them the files one by one. Then she ruffles their hair.
She stands back up and approaches the water cooler.
“Enjoying the show?”
You don’t answer, choosing to read the endless number of flyers on the board instead.
She stands in front of you, grabs her own cup before drinking.
You shouldn’t look. You do anyway. How she tilts her head further back than normal, the way her throat bobs after every swallow. You look lower, the top buttons of her shirt undone, her loosened tie hangs crooked.
You hear a little laugh—low, barely audible. She’s watching you stare out the corner of her eye, a smirk plastered on her face.
You walk off before she can say anything.
——
You look down at the clock on your computer screen.
7pm.
Most of the workers have left for the day. Just you and Park Sohyun.
You stretch your arms above your head, a small sound escaping your mouth. You remove the headphones before rubbing your eyes. With deadlines approaching, you’ve been spending more late nights at the office, crunching numbers, creating diagrams.
You stand, wobbling a bit. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep from the hours in front of your screen. You grab your coat and your bag, ready to leave.
“Hey, can you help me with this?”
You close your eyes. The elevators were right there.
But something pulls you back. Obligation. Stupidity.
You sigh loudly. Let your head drop and trudge over.
“Something doesn’t look right on the spreadsheet.”
You lean, hovering over her shoulders, checking her work. You scroll up and down. Looking for the mistakes she made. Ignoring the scent of her perfume surrounding you.
“There,” you say, circling the problem with the mouse, “the equation is wrong. It’s supposed to be this.” You lean down fixing the equation and watch how the spreadsheet corrects itself.
“My saviour,” she props her chin on her hand, watching you like you’re a puzzle to solve.
You keep your eyes on the screen.
“Is that it?”
She nods her head slightly.
You’re halfway to the elevators when she calls for you.
“Wait for me.”
You ignore her. Press the button to call the elevator. When it arrives, you enter quickly, press for the ground floor and push the close button. Again and again.
Her hand catches the door.
“Wow. You’re fucking rude.”
You ignore her comment and step to the side.
The journey to the ground floor feels like hours.
From the corner of your eye, you see her reach up. The clip comes out. She shakes her hair loose, then turns toward you.
You don’t make eye contact. But the doors are polished steel. You see her anyway—tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning back against the railing.
“You like Xinyu? She’s too good for you,” she says, tilting her head to get a better look at your face, at your reaction. “She’s got a nice body, I’ll give her that. Long legs. Pretty smile.” She pauses, eyes flicking to yours in the reflection. “That round—“
You turn, facing her. “What are you doing?”
She bites her bottom lip. Pushes off the railing and steps closer. Too close.
“It’s fun teasing you.”
You stare at her. What the hell is she talking about?
“You act all high and mighty. Act like whatever I do is beneath you, that it doesn’t affect you,” she plays with your tie, twirling it around her finger. “But I think there’s more. I think you enjoy it and I’m starting to wonder how long before you break.”
The door opens suddenly. She walks out without another word. Heels tapping against the tile—sharp and even. You’re still standing there, breathing too hard.
——
You walk along the streets of Seoul in the early morning, weaving through people as you get to work. It’s cold. Your coat doing little against the winter wind, hands trembling.
You enter the building, pausing to warm your hands. You wait for the elevator. Bow to a coworker. And another. You’re not really seeing them.
You smell her before you see her. She’s beside you. Of course she is.
The elevator door opens. You get in quickly, aiming for the back before she follows. More people start filing in, pushing you into a corner.
She’s in front of you. Facing you.
The elevator begins its ascent. She shifts, pressing against you—just slightly. She’s watching your face. You breathe in. Stare at the ceiling panel, the lights, anything.
Her hand finds your forearm. Squeezes. Firmly. You look down. You don’t want to. But you do anyway.
Your vision blurs at the edges. It’s her face—sharp and clear.
Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing her face, making it harder to look away from. Glasses sliding down her nose. She’s looking at you over her frames.
Your breath catches. She licks her lips—slow, deliberate.
This isn’t teasing anymore.
Maybe you shouldn’t have taken her threat so lightly.
People leave. There’s more room now but she doesn’t move but presses closer.
The door opens on your floor. You exhale loudly. She steps back slowly. Her fingers trail down your forearm—light and deliberate. Then she turns. Walks to her desk like nothing happened.
——
You feel your eyes slowly close.
You’ve been sat in this meeting room for two hours, manager droning on about numbers, projections, expectations. You don’t retain much. Just twirling your pen between your fingers.
You scan the room. Everyone’s half asleep—stifling yawns, glazed eyes. Until you reach her.
She’s not looking at the presentation. But at you. Chin propped up on her hand. Fingers lightly tapping against her cheek—slow, rhythmic. Like she’s waiting for something.
Your eyes drift lower. Lips parted. Glossed. Catching the light. Top buttons undone, a small necklace rests on her collarbone.
You turn back towards the presentation.
A gentle thud echoes in the room. You ignore it. Until you can’t.
Your head snaps toward her.
Her heel. On the floor. And she’s not picking it up. Then you feel it. Her foot. Sliding up your calf. Slowly. Higher and higher.
She gives you a wink.
Your breath catches. Your heart—
“Are you paying attention?”
You turn your head back to your manager, face burning.
You swallow. “Y—yeah.”
He narrows his eyes. Holds your gaze for a beat before continuing.
You hear it. Quiet but there.
She’s laughing.
Her foot slides down. Slowly. She slips her heel back on.
You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just staring at the presentation like your life depends on it.
——
The meeting ends. You stand and make your way to her quick. You grab her wrist—tight—and pull. She stumbles after you. People are staring. You don’t care. The emergency stairwell. You don’t slow down.
You slam the door open, shoving her inside. Her back hits the wall. You take three steps back and begin pacing, breathing heavily.
“What the hell is your problem?” Your voice echoes in the stairwell.
She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, a small smile tugging at her mouth.
You stop pacing. Moved closer until you tower over her. “We’re at work and you’re doing this shit!” You say, voice low and harsh.
She tilts her head. Looks up at you through her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She’s breathing heavily. You’re just too angry to notice.
You press in closer. Your leg between hers. Your hand fins her wrist and pins it to the wall beside her head. You’re close enough to feel her breath. To see her pupils dilate.
“Is this what you want?”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.
You lower your head. Until your lips are a breath from hers. This would shut her up.
You close your eyes as you inch closer. Hers stay open.
Your lips graze hers. You pull back. Fast. You stumble slightly.
She pushes off the wall, smooths down her shirt, readjusts her glasses. “Nice try. You’ve made a scene now. Good luck talking yourself out of this.”
She opens the door. Walks out. You see your coworkers. Staring.
Everyone saw.
——
You didn’t think life here could get worse.
Everyone around you whispers. About you. About the stairwell. You’re painted as the villain. Jealous. Unstable.
If only they knew what she was doing to you.
You turn up the volume in your headphones. Try to drown them out. It doesn’t stop the stares. Or that condescending smile of hers.
You feel a firm grip on your shoulder. You look up. Your manager. Your hand slides an ear cup off.
“Follow me.”
Fuck.
You’re going to get fired aren’t you?
——
No. You’re not getting fired.
Actually it’s worse.
Your manager has assigned you to a project. Something about logistics, delivery, supply chains. You’re not really listening.
That’s not the problem. The problem is who’s leading it.
Park Sohyun.
And you’re her second in command.
——
“Alright, you all know your assignments. Fighting!”
People begin filing out, the first meeting for the new project successful. You slowly pack your things. Stand. You take a step out the door—
“Not you. I need to speak to you.”
You freeze mid-step. You turn to face her, still by the podium. She points to a chair. You sit. She moves closer, settles on the edge of the conference table, looking down at you.
You swallow visibly.
She studies you. “I hope you can stay professional. We don’t want another stairwell incident, now do we?”
You see the smirk on her face, eyes gleaming in amusement. She’s loving this.
“N—no.”
“Good. You can go.” She waves you away. You bang your knees on the table. You ignore the pain, moving towards the exit.
You’re halfway out when she speaks again.
“I told you I’d break you.”
——
The numbers, the pie charts. They all begin merging into a blur.
The past few days have been hectic. Always is when a new project gets underway. The need to have something tangible to impress the higher ups.
You’ve barely had time to sleep, staying late in the office every day. Your eyes strained from staring at the monitor for so long.
“Here.”
You look up. It’s Sohyun, offering you a cup of coffee. You take it, looking down at it sceptically.
“Did you spit in this or something?”
She slaps the back of your head.
Sohyun hasn’t tormented you in the last few days. Too busy with the project but you’re still hyper-aware. Every time she’s close or talking, you half expect her touch or a jibe.
This is the first time she’s approached you in days. And strangely enough, you miss it.
Not because you miss her. Just… the distraction. The days are boring without it.
“You look tired. Thought you could use some coffee.”
“Thanks.” You stare at the cup before taking a small sip, wincing as you burn your tongue.
“How’s the data analysis going?”
You shrug. “Should be ready by tomorrow.”
“Hmm. Good work.”
Your heart jumps a little at the praise.
She doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching you work, sipping her coffee every now and then.
Your heart beats rapidly. Waiting for her to touch you or make an inappropriate comment. You feel her hand on the back of your chair.
“You made a mistake here. And there.”
You glance up at her in surprise before following where she pointing. She’s right. You quickly make the changes.
She hums in approval before walking back to her desk. You finally exhale, shoulders dropping.
“What? Disappointed I didn’t try something?” She says as she sits back down, smirking.
You shouldn’t ask. You do anyway.
“Why aren’t you?” You add quickly, “Not because I miss it.”
Her mouth opens. Then closes. She rests her chin on her fingers. “You’re boring now.”
“What? And I wasn’t before?”
“That reaction at the stairwell? I don’t think you could top that.”
Your face heats.
She’s challenging you. Baiting you.
You take it anyway.
“How do I not be boring?” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant.
She smiles wide. Stands and leans over your desk. You see a hint of her bra underneath her shirt. Your throat suddenly goes dry. You try to look away. Too late.
“Be more assertive. More reckless. That’s when people are fun,” she says like it’s obvious. She moves suddenly, towards your manager’s desk. Grabs a key and opens the bottom drawer. Pulls out a bottle of expensive whiskey before placing it on the table with a heavy thunk.
“You want some?”
You stand abruptly, your chair rolls back, hits the desk behind. You cross to her. Grab the bottle from her hands, open it and take a swig.
You hold it in your mouth—to look like you’ve done this before. You swallow. Your throat burns. You start spluttering.
She laughs. Her hand finds your back—rubbing, soothing. “Easy there,” she murmurs.
Once your coughing dies down, you look at her. Her expression shifts. Surprised. Impressed. You shove the bottle into her hands. Nod at it.
She holds your gaze. Brings the bottle to her lips.
Your eyes go lower. Her throat bobs after every swallow. You swallow along with her.
She places the bottle back on the desk when she finishes. There’s a drop of whiskey on her lips. You track it as it glides down her chin. Falls onto her shirt, staining the fabric.
Her shirt—when did she undo more buttons?
You look back up. Her gaze still on you, pupils dilated. Lips parted. Your breaths mingle. Everywhere smells like whiskey.
You push forward. Grab her waist. Crush your mouth against hers. It’s messy and loud. She moans. Opens her mouth. You don’t hesitate, forcing your tongue in.
She steps back until she’s pressed against your manager’s desk. She reaches back, sweeps the paper and pens onto the floor. The whiskey also falls. Shatters. You don’t care.
You lift her onto the desk, kiss her neck. She moans—right into your ear. Her legs lock around you, hands going to your belt—
The sound of the vacuum breaks both of you out of the spell.
You separate, breathing heavily. You crane your neck towards the sound. They don’t know you’re here yet. You look back at her, already buttoning her shirt.
“Want to get out of here?” She asks.
You can only nod.
——
Your manager frantically searches his drawers, muttering. “What? Where’s my bottle?”
You ignore him, focused on getting your tasks done.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him move closer to Sohyun. Your fingers hit the keyboard harder than normal.
He leans on her desk. Lowers his voice. “Have you seen my… special drink?”
“You mean the one in the locked drawer?”
“That’s the one!”
“Nope. I’ve been too busy.” She doesn’t give him her full attention, eyes glued to the computer screen.
He stares at her, waiting for more. When nothing comes, he frowns, walking back to his desk.
Sohyun stares at you over her computer screen, smirking. You try to fight the smile coming. You fail.
She slams her laptop shut. Grabs it and stands. “Come on. Let’s head to the meeting room.”
——
Sohyun stands at the front of the room. Clicking through slides. Assigning tasks. Fielding questions.
You’re not listening.
Last night keeps playing in your mind. The hickey left on her collarbone. How her thighs locked around your waist in the backseat of her car. How her nails raked down your back. The pain is still there. But it was worth it.
You can’t stop staring. Her lips are still swollen. You notice a slight limp when she walks. Favouring her left leg as she paces. You can see the hickey, barely peeking out of her shirt.
You smile at the memory.
“Anything to add?”
You shake your head, still smiling. Then you notice: everyone’s staring at you. Confused.
She glances at you, amusement on her features. “Alright then. This is the final push. Don’t let the team down.”
Nods all round the table. Chairs scraping. One by one they file out. Until it’s just you two.
She doesn’t move. Stares at the door until it clicks shut. “You were undressing me, weren’t you?”
You look down at your laptop, pretending to make notes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She walks toward you. Slowly. The limp still there. She grabs the armrests, spins your chair to face her. She grips your chin, forces you to look up.
“Tonight—shall we finish what we started?”
“Didn’t we?” You don’t break eye contact. “In your car?”
She leans down, her mouth next to your ear. “I’m talking about the manager’s desk.” your eyes widen. “How hot would that be?”
No. It would be stupid. Crazy.
But you’ve had a taste of doing reckless shit. A taste of her.
And it’s addictive.
You pull her onto your lap, kissing her roughly. She laughs into it.
That answers her question.
——
“F—fuck…”
You grab her tie from round her neck, stuff it into her mouth as you continue to pound into her.
She’s under you. Eyes rolled back. Pants gone, panties around one ankle by your head. Her shirt, ripped open. You’re pretty sure you tore a few buttons. You need to reimburse her for that. Her glasses are still on, now askew.
God, she’s the most beautiful thing here—one hand fondling her breast. The other gripping your hand by her waist tightly.
You’re not gentle. She doesn’t want you to be. You can still hear her moans through her tie. You’re close. Too close.
She lets go of her breast, reaches for something by her head. Her phone. You don’t question it. Open the camera. Frame her: Shirt torn open. Tie between her teeth. Sweat on her collarbone. One leg hooked over your shoulder. You take the photo. Show her. She looks at herself. At what you’ve done to her. Her eyes grow dark. She nods.
More.
She cums. Hard. Her walls tightening around you. You finish inside her. No hesitation.
You lean over. Kiss her hard, desperate.
You take a few steps back, collapse onto the manager’s chair and watch as your joined fluids spill onto the desk.
You laugh. So does she.
You’re both still breathing hard. She sits up, places her feet on the armrest. Drags you closer. You look into her eyes as you start buttoning up your shirt. Disheveled. Smiling. “What, no round 2?”
You caress her leg, placing soft kisses on her calf. Up to her knee. She shivers. “My place?”
She considers. Then nods.
——
“W—why is my desk sticky?”
He’s looking around for someone to blame. Everyone’s staring at their screen, ignoring him.
You hear your phone buzz. Look down. Message from Sohyun.
It’s one of the photos from last night. Her. On the desk. Tie in her mouth. Below it: Shall we tell him?
You look up, eyes wide. She’s already looking at you. You watch as she bites her lip. Laughs into her fist. She’s already lifting her phone. Aims it at you. Your phone buzzes a second later.
Your face? Priceless
——
You open your laptop. Spreadsheet already displayed. You crack your knuckles, stretch your neck, and begin to work.
The project’s deadline is tomorrow. It’s almost done—just a few changes left to be made. The slack channel constantly pings with new messages from other team members. Updates on their tasks, offering assistance.
The shower head suddenly turns off. Five minutes later, Sohyun comes out: hair damp, wearing your t-shirt. It’s big on her—neck line too big, exposing one shoulder, hem falling to mid-thigh. If the deadline wasn’t tomorrow, you’d have thrown her on the bed for round 2.
She pads to your bed, wet footprints marking your carpet. She climbs under the sheets. Grabs her phone from the nightstand. You look over. She’s scrolling through the slack channel before tossing her phone away. She stretches. T-shirt riding up her thighs. You feel your heart rate pick up. You turn back to your screen. Try to focus.
She turns to you. Scoots until she’s pressing against you. Grabs your chin and begins kissing you messily. She tries to close your laptop. You stop her.
You pull away. “I still have work to do.”
“Do it after.”
“You just took a shower.”
“I can take another.”
You chuckle. Turn back toward the screen.
She watches you, annoyance marring her features. “Fine.”
You last only five minutes when you hear moans beside you. She’s touching herself. You try to ignore it. Her breath quickening. Your name spilling out of her mouth—needy. The way her legs spread wider. Your throat goes dry.
You look over. She’s watching you, a teasing smile on her face. She brings a finger to her mouth. Bites it. That look—you can’t get used to it.
You’re hard. Aching.
You shut the computer, toss it onto the floor, and pounce on top of her. She’s giggling like she’s won.
You crash your lips on hers, pushing your tongue in. Replace her hand with yours. Swallow her moans.
You don’t know when she became more important than work.
——
After the deadline, she decided to stay for the weekend.
You don’t argue.
You feel her eyes on your back. “What?” You ask, still facing the cooker as you make breakfast.
She’s sat at the table, chin resting on one hand, the other drawing patterns on the tabletop. She’s only got a bra and your boxers on. You love the sight.
“You’re weirdly hot you know?”
“Thank you?”
“I mean it,” you turn around, place a plate in front of her before sitting across from her. “If you keep your hair messy like that and wear those glasses…”
You stare at her as she bites her lip. Rubs her thighs together. You’re surprised she’s acting like this—at just a thought. “Maybe I will.”
——
Monday comes round. You’re looking at your reflection in the window of her car.
You followed her advice: messy hair, glasses instead of contacts. You adjust your glasses, touch your hair. It feels weird. You feel her hand on your thigh.
“You look fine. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be on you right now.” Her hand climbs higher, nails slightly brushing your groin.
A small groan escapes. You grab her hand. “I’m not going into the office hard.”
“Why not?”
You don’t give her an answer. Instead, you watch outside. People waiting for buses. Cleaners on the street, removing evidence of whatever happened last night.
“Let’s play a game.”
You hum in response. Curious now.
“First person to get dragged into the supply closet wins.”
“Sohyun… no.”
“Why? We already fucked on the manager’s desk.”
“You’re talking about doing it during work hours.”
“Exciting right?”
Crazy. She’s crazy.
But you’re already imagining it. Her pressed against the shelves—
What has she done to you?
——
You get off a block away from the entrance. Whatever this is between you two, you both keep it secret. No rumours. No questions.
You enter the building, scan your ID and wait for the elevator. People are staring. Your hair. Glasses. Gossiping. You look towards them. They look away, giggling.
Sohyun arrives a minute later, stands beside you. Smirking. “Told you it looked good.”
The elevator arrives. You move to the back. Sohyun stands in front of you, back to you. As the elevator ascends, she moves back. Her ass pressing against you.
You try not to look down at her. You fail. She’s typing something on her phone. Holds her phone over her shoulder.
Game starts now
She presses harder. You bite the inside of your cheek, face burning. You look around. No one’s paying attention. Don’t react. Not here. Not yet.
When the elevator reaches your floor, it empties. Just the two of you left. You lean in, groan softly into her ear. Watch the goosebumps rise on her skin. You sidestep around her before heading to your desk. You don’t look back.
Two can play this game.
——
It’s barely lunch and you’re already losing your composure.
She’s good. Really good.
A glimpse of her bra when she leans over to hand you something. She drops her pen deliberately. Lets it roll under your desk. She ducks under the desk. Her hand finds your thigh—not the pen. Every time she leaves for the bathroom, your phone buzzes. Photos of her. Hair tussled. Shirt open, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach. You do your best to hide them from your colleagues. Angle your phone away from your desk neighbour. But they just keep coming.
“Are you okay?”
You lock your phone immediately. Look up. Zhou Xinyu. She’s frowning. Concerned look on her face. “I—I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re looking really red.”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
She walks off. Then stops. Turns to you. “By the way…” You look over your shoulder at her. “Like the new look.” She winks at you.
You swallow visibly. Your phone buzzes again.
What the fuck is happening?
——
You look over at Sohyun, eyes pleading. Her foot’s on your groin again, pressing firmly. You bite your knuckles, trying not to moan. She’s smiling innocently.
She doesn’t stop, not even when some intern comes to flirt with her. She’s in her element. Laughing. Flirting.
You hate it.
You know she’s watching you, even when she’s not paying attention. How your jaw tightens when she laughs at a terrible joke, her hand playfully slapping his arm. She presses harder with your every reaction.
“What is with the tired looks, everybody? It’s Monday! A brand new week!”
A momentary respite when your eyes turn to your manager. You look around. Everyone’s eyes look heavy, their movements sluggish.
“This won’t do. You!” He points at you, beckons you closer with his finger. You slap her foot away before standing carefully. You walk slowly to him. “Go down to the cafe. Coffee is on me!”
Cheers of delight come from the team. Internally, you’re celebrating the reprieve.
You quickly make your way to the elevator, ignoring Sohyun.
“Can I join you?”
You turn. Xinyu stands beside you. “Sure. Going on your lunch break?”
She stares at you for a moment before turning to the elevator doors. “Something like that.”
Behind you, Sohyun watches the elevator doors close. Her eyes narrow.
——
“Let me pay.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“It’s the manager’s card.” You flash the card as if it was treasure.
She laughs. Covering her mouth with her hand. “If you insist.” She gestures you forward.
You move to pay then proceed to order for the rest of your team. 5 iced americanos. 1 caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top.
You don’t know why you remember that.
You walk over to where Xinyu’s waiting, busy on her phone. She sets it down as soon as you’re beside her.
“What’s with the new look?” She asks.
“This? Sohyun suggested it. Said it looked good on me.” You don’t look her in the eyes when you answer, remembering what happened after she said that.
The eggs were cold.
“You’ve been hanging around her a lot lately.” You look up, wait for her to continue. “You’re a lot different from before you worked that project together.”
You narrow your eyes. “Good different? Bad?”
You’re interrupted when her order comes out first—placed in front of her. She bends over her drink, holds the straw close to her mouth.
“Not sure yet. Just different.”
You watch as she drinks. You shouldn’t be. The way her cheeks hollow. Her eyes trained on you.
You shift uncomfortably.
When did everything become so sexual?
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “Excuse me.”
You move away towards the window. Stare down at your phone. Another message from Sohyun. This time a voice note. You press play. Press it against your ear.
You almost drop your phone.
She’s moaning your name. From the echo, she’s in the bathroom again. You hear her breathing heavily, voice raspy.
You can imagine it: her on the toilet seat, fingers between her legs, coated in her wetness. Her eyes fluttering close, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.
You press your head against the window, a thud echoing in the cafe. Xinyu’s looking over at you in concern. You ignore her, focus on getting your breathing in check. Focus on not losing this game.
Then you hear it: a sucking sound through the speakers.
It ends there. Like a teaser for what’s to come. You check the time on your phone. 5 more hours until the day’s over.
“What happened? Is everything okay?”
You quickly turn. Xinyu’s close. Her face centimetres from yours. You don’t know how long she’s been standing there. Don’t know if she heard any of it. You hope she didn’t.
“Y—yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She shakes her head. You feel your cheeks burn under her gaze. Did she hear it? What would she think? You see her raise her hand, point to your forehead.
“Your forehead. You hit it pretty hard on the window. It’s going red.”
You bring your hand to your forehead, feel a slight swell.
Fuck.
“It’s fine. I—“ you look over her shoulder and see the barista placing your order onto the counter. “The order’s ready.” You quickly move, thankful for the interruption.
You grab the coffees. Thank the barista. You turn to Xinyu. “Shall we head back?” You don’t give her time to answer, already walking to the exit.
——
“I told you. It’s fine.”
“If you don’t do something about it, it’s going to get worse. The swelling will get bigger. Redder. You could end up with a headache. Or have to go to the hospital.”
“Okay. You’re exaggerating now. I don’t actually—“
The elevator doors open. You see Sohyun stopping at the sight of you and Xinyu. Close. Her hand brushing the swell on your forehead. Gently blowing on it as if that would fix it.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen her angry.
“Is that the coffee order?” Her tone is cold. Emotionless.
“Y—yeah.”
“Great. Xinyu, could you—“ she takes the coffee from your hands, shoves it into hers. She grips your wrist. Tight. “—hand them to the team. Thanks.”
She’s dragging you out of the elevator before you can make a sound.
——
This feels familiar. Her dragging you. Of the time you dragged her out that meeting. Karma has a weird way of getting back at you.
She drags you up the next floor. Accounting. It’s a quiet floor. People here tend to mind their own business. They won’t notice how she opens the supply closet, shoves you inside, and locks it behind her.
You don’t know if you should be aroused or terrified.
She pushes you into a worn office chair. Grabs your tie. Forces you to look up before crashing her lips against yours.
You don’t respond. Can’t. Already feel her tongue invading your mouth.
She straddles you. Unbuttons your shirt one by one. You move your hand to do the same to hers. Only for her to slap them away.
Her lips leave yours, inches away. “You don’t get to touch me.”
You swallow hard. Try to chase her lips only for her to lean further back. She grinds against you. A moan escapes you. You don’t care anymore. Don’t care that someone might find you. Might hear you. Don’t care if your manager wonders where the fuck you both are.
You just want her.
You hear her heels fall to the floor as she undoes the last button. Feel her nails scratch you from your collarbone to your hips. Her eyes darken as she looks over you.
She presses her lips on you—your collarbone, your chest. She trails down until she can’t bend anymore.
She sits back up. Straight. Removes her own shirt before tossing it behind her. Forgotten. Grabs your chin roughly before kissing you. Desperate. Messy. Like staking a claim. Her other hand trails down, undoes your belt, the button before fishing you out, stroking you slow.
“Fuck…”
She smiles into the kiss, loving the way you easily fold.
She’s off your lap now, shimmies out of her own trousers. Smirks when your pupils dilate at the sight. No panties.
You try to reach her. You’re only met with her hand holding both your wrists, pinning them to the shelves behind you.
She straddles you again, grabs you and aims you into her. She lowers herself onto you until you’re fully inside.
You groan at the warmth. She groans at the fullness.
She rides you. Hard. Panting into your ear. Biting your ear. You’re too far gone to think clearly.
The shelves behind you start rattling, random items falling around you.
For a brief moment, you remember where you are. That someone walking by could see what’s happening.
You let out a loud moan at that thought.
She clasps her hand over your mouth. To make you quiet. But no one’s making her quiet. She grows louder. And louder. Until she has no choice but to stuff her own tie into her mouth.
You feel yourself getting harder at the sight.
She’s close. You can feel it. The lack of rhythm in her bouncing. The stutter in her breathing. The way she shuts her eyes tight, trying to hold herself together.
You finish first. Inside her. She follows soon after. Head collapsing on your shoulder, hand letting go of your wrists. They fall around her waist. You hold her tight. Wait until your breathing is under control. She places her hand over your chest, over your heart. Smiles at its rapid beating.
When you both calm, she lifts her head before lowering her lips onto yours. Softer. Gentler.
You part, eyes locked. “I win.”
She tilts her head in confusion. “What?”
“You said whoever gets dragged into the supply closet wins right? I won.”
You watch the realisation dawn on her face.
“Fuck you.”
——
“Damn it. The door’s jammed again. Is maintenance gone already… fuck.”
The supply closet door continues to rattle as one, two people try to get it open.
“Fuck it. I’ll get it tomorrow.”
You grab your phone. Read the time: 5:50pm. You’ve been here the entire afternoon, half expecting messages from your boss: where the fuck are you, where’s my fucking credit card. You didn’t get any of that, just a single text from Xinyu.
Told them you got hurt pretty bad on the way back from the cafe. Told them Sohyun went with you because she’s got a car.
You need to thank her for that. And explain all this too. Or come up with a convincing lie.
“How long left?”
“10 minutes. How do you know Accounting will be gone by then?”
“They don’t do overtime. Or refuse to. Just how they are.” She gives a noncommittal shrug. Browses the items on the shelves. She’s walking around the supply closet. Naked.
“I should’ve used this on you.” She turns to you, shows you some tape before continuing her browsing.
You can’t take your eyes off her. Hair a mess. From the makeshift ponytail in round 3. The bruises on her hips. From when you gripped her a bit too tightly in round 5. The glistening on her inner thighs.
You’re aching at the memory.
She looks down. Smirks. You’re hard again. “Ready for round 8?” She saunters to you, hips swaying more than normal before sitting down next to you.
She grips you, stroking slowly, twisting at the tip. You move your hand to her mouth, watch as she sucks on your fingers before letting them go. You trail them down to where she’s already wet, rubbing in circles.
You rest your head on the wall behind, eyes closed, enjoying her hand and her soft moans. She’s on her phone, tapping away.
“Look at this.”
You slowly open your eyes. Look at her screen. Xinyu’s latest photo on Instagram. A mirror selfie. The mirror’s steamed, she’s wearing a bathrobe, shoulder exposed.
“Sohyun… what the fuck…”
“Imagine it’s her hand.” She whispers into your ear.
She’s stroking faster. Your hand lying motionless on her. You shut your eyes. Can’t help the image of Xinyu on you instead.
You exhale loudly.
“Jealous of her?”
“I am.” She blows into your ear. You let out a moan. “But I understand. She’s hot.” She stops. Hand moving down, grabs your balls. Tight. “Just remember that I’m the one making you feel this way.”
You kiss her. Hard. Moaning into her mouth as she strokes again. Faster. Relentless. You come. All over her hand.
You can’t do anything but watch as she brings her hand to her mouth, licks her hand clean, smiles at the taste.
After that display, she stands, finds her shirt, dresses.
“What about you?” You say weakly, unable to move.
“You can make it up to me,” she’s putting her hair up in a ponytail. “After dinner.”
She tosses you your clothes. Leans on the door, waiting for you.
——
You both make it to your floor. Quietly. In case anyone is still lingering.
When the coast is clear, you move to grab your stuff: jacket, bag, ID. Both of you run to the elevators, giggling like children.
You put your hand in your jacket pocket. Something’s in there. Soft. Unfamiliar. You pull it out.
Her panties.
“Thought you’d like a souvenir.” She’s smiling.
You walk in as soon as the elevator arrives and the doors open.
“Was this supposed to help with the game?”
“Yeah. Didn’t think it would end up being useless.”
You laugh boisterously.
As the door closes, you pin her to the wall, kissing her.
——
Dinner’s at your place. An order of fried chicken.
She’s cleaned up, now sporting only your hoodie. You’re in jogging pants, no shirt.
Some variety show plays on the TV. You’re not paying attention, content to watch her. How she holds the chicken delicately with just her fingertips. Her legs tucked underneath her. She laughs at something on the TV. It’s loud. Addicting. You can’t help but laugh along with her.
She reaches for another piece. Arches her back as she takes one from the plate. You see a hint of a smile. You huff. You’ve been caught. You lean back on the couch, focusing on the show. She moves beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. Offers the chicken. You take a bite. She laughs again before settling against you.
You throw your arm over her, thumb softly grazing her hipbone. You lean down, a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
She looks up at you, eyes curving into crescents as she smiles wide.
Your heart skips a beat.
She leans up, pecks you on the lips before you can react and turns back to the TV.
——
At this point, she’s practically moved in. Which, by the way, is crazy. You’re pretty sure her place is bigger than yours.
You walk into the bathroom, see her toothbrush sitting next to yours. Counter space is nonexistent. Her essentials have taken over—lotion, cleanser, hair products.
You sigh. Grab your toothbrush. Start brushing your teeth as you walk around the bedroom.
Your desk is now her makeup station. Your wardrobe has her work attire.
(Only her work attire. She’s either naked or stealing your clothes whenever she comes by.)
You walk back into the bathroom, watching yourself in the mirror.
She comes in, wraps her arms round your waist. You stare at her through the reflection. At the way her hands start drifting lower, into your jogging pants.
You stop that immediately, turning, grabbing her and lifting her on the small space left on the counter.
You accidentally poke her eye with your toothbrush.
“Ow!”
You spit your toothbrush into the sink.
“Shit! Are you okay?”
She laughs, one eye closed.
You move close, kissing all over her face: the closed eye, her brow, her nose before ending at her mouth. One peck. Two. You dive back in, pushing your tongue into her mouth.
She reciprocates eagerly, one arm around the back of your neck. The other finishing her exploration of your pants. You feel her hand cup you.
You groan before lifting her, carrying her to the bedroom. She’s giggling the whole time.
——
“Re—really? They’re happy… with it?” She stutters, not paying attention to what’s being said on the phone.
A member of the project called. Updates her on what happened since she was away. The higher ups are happy with the project. They praised her leadership. Wants to reward the team with a big dinner.
She’s happy of course. But her mind’s elsewhere.
“Ha—have you talked with the other members? Asked what they w—wanted?”
She moves the phone away from her mouth. Covers the microphone as she moans loudly. Her head bangs against your headboard. “Keep going.”
She puts the phone back against her ear. Catches the last part of whatever was said. Her other hand reaches down, grabs hold of your hair, pushing you further into her. She starts grinding into your mouth.
You smile. Continue lapping at her relentlessly. The need to breathe no longer a priority. You start pushing a finger inside. Then another as your tongue moves up, circling her clit.
She bucks. You use one hand to hold her down.
“J—just let me know what the others decide. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” She ends the call quickly, throws her phone away. It clatters somewhere near the bedroom door.
“Oh my fucking—how are you so good?”
“I watched tutorials.”
“Can you send me the link? I want to show them to all my—“
You don’t let her finish, sucking on her clit. Hard.
You stop. Look up at her. Mouth wet. “Is there anyone else?”
She shakes her head quickly.
“Are you sure? Use your words.” You’re torturing her. Still, it’s nice to have power over her sometimes. Nice to see her chest rise and fall. See her cheeks flushed pink.
“No. No.”
You dive back in. Her head thrashes side to side. She extends her arm suddenly, knocking over the bedside lamp before she starts hitting the bed.
“Fuck fuck fuck”
She’s panting now, her thighs tightening over your head. You have to pry them open just to breathe.
“Keep going. Please— I’m close.”
Her thighs begin to quiver, tightening around you again. She grabs your pillow and screams into it as her orgasm tears through her. Her hips lift off the bed, dragging you with her. You don’t stop, working her through it.
Eventually, she loosens her thighs. Lets you climb over her, trailing kisses—hipbone, sternum, up to her mouth. She grabs the back of your neck, kissing you. Moans at her taste. You smile into the kiss.
“Did I make up for the supply closet?”
She can only nod furiously before kissing you again.
——
Friday’s here.
You kick the ground outside the office, your breath visible as you wait for your manager. Somehow, he’s managed to weasel his way into this celebratory dinner with your team. A project he wasn’t a part of. You don’t know why Sohyun agreed to this.
“Where are we going again?”
Oh and your manager invited Xinyu as well.
“Some new, fusion restaurant downtown,” you say noncommittally. You do your best to avoid her gaze, lest you face Sohyun’s ire. You wouldn’t mind, except all you and Sohyun have been doing lately is having sex. You’re kind of sore at this point.
“I shouldn’t even be here. I wasn’t part of the project.”
“You missed your opportunity to say no,” you say bluntly. Then you smile. Wry. “It’s alright. The manager wasn’t invited either yet somehow he’s coming along. Trust me, we’d rather have you there than him.”
She can’t help but smile. “Thanks. Feel a little better now.”
“Don’t say that. I heard there were plans to ditch you with him.”
She pushes you halfheartedly, laughing. You smile along with her.
“Alright! I’m here! Let’s go!”
——
“I call shotgun!”
You, Sohyun, and Xinyu stand frozen at the audacity of your manager. Watching him as he opens the passenger door to Sohyun’s car.
“Looks like he took shotgun,” Xinyu says as she walks to the back.
You look over at Sohyun. Her jaw is tight. She’s annoyed. At your manager or Xinyu, you’re not too sure.
“Can you drive?”
You huff. “Sure.”
She hands you the keys before making her way to the backseat, behind the driver.
As soon as you open the driver side door, your manager begins protesting. “What are you doing? This is Sohyun’s car.”
Sometimes, you want to punch him.
“She’s not feeling too well. Asked me to drive.”
“I can drive. Sohyun, come sit here.”
“No, no. I’ll feel worse there. Might throw up on you.” She makes a gagging sound. Your manager can’t help but gag along with her.
You look into the rear view mirror, see Xinyu smiling in amusement. You do too.
“Let’s go.”
——
“I swear I want to kill him.”
“You invited him.”
“He invited himself.”
“Should’ve said no then.”
“Whose side are you on?”
The both of you hang back a bit. Watch as the rest enter the restaurant. Xinyu lags behind the group, looking over her shoulder at you.
“Can we tell him what we did? That we stole his whiskey? Fucked on his desk?”
She’s leaning on her car. You’re standing in front of her, towering over her.
“That’s a sure way to get me fired.”
“You? Not we?”
“He likes you. He’d defend you. He’d paint me as some devil who seduced you into stealing his whiskey and having sex on his desk.”
She chuckles softly. She’s staring up at you, eyes wide. “If only he knew I was the seducer.”
You smile. “If only he knew.”
You lean down, kiss her softly on the lips before gently pushing her off the car and toward the restaurant.
“You think we could leave early? Or at least go to the bathroom?” She’s talking to you over her shoulder.
“Sohyun… I’m still sore from last night.”
“Maybe we could invite Xinyu to join us.”
You stay silent. She’s joking. Still, it’s not a bad idea. “Should we?”
“Fuck you.” She flips you off.
——
This is bad. Like a powder keg waiting to explode.
Your manager’s drunk. Is starting to get more handsy—firm grip on shoulders, pulling them close by the waist. Everyone’s uncomfortable. Especially the women.
You look to Sohyun, forced to sit by his side, shifting uncomfortably, drinking every shot he gives her. To Xinyu, staring at her flute of champagne, silent.
Your jaw tightens, knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the table. Yet you don’t say anything. No one does. Too afraid to speak out, to lose their jobs. Even Sohyun, who preaches recklessness, can’t seem to put her job on the line.
“Why is everyone quiet? Drink. Drink!”
Even the other customers are uncomfortable.
“Why aren’t you drinking?”
You turn to face him, a butter knife pointed toward you. Everyone’s looking, the guy next to you—his name you can’t remember—nudges you, points at the shot in front.
Before you would’ve stayed silent, down the shot, keep him happy.
But you’ve changed. For the better.
“I’m not drinking tonight. I’m driving.”
“Who? You don’t even own a car.”
“Sohyun. Xinyu,” you say, voice cold. “Anyone else who wants a lift.”
He cackles. “Everyone here can take a cab! They don’t need you driving them home! Isn’t that right Sohyun?”
You watch as his hand grabs hold of her thigh. At the way she flinches but can’t move away. Your vision goes red. You stand, punching him in the nose. You hear a crack, watch as he falls off his seat. You don’t stop there, walking round the table and pummelling him.
Crack. Another bone.
They pull you off him before you do something you regret. You’re breathing heavily. Ears are ringing. You can’t hear anything until you feel Xinyu push you, telling you to go outside.
You walk out. Lean against the wall before sliding down it.
——
You stay like that for who knows how long. Until you see her white sneakers.
You look up. Sohyun crouches down to eye level. Looks over your features. She brushes a strand of hair from your eyes.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to get fired.”
“I know.”
“Thank you.”
Her hands cup your cheeks before leaning in. Kisses your forehead.
You smile despite yourself.
“Where is everybody?”
“The hospital.”
You hum in acknowledgement.
She moves to sit beside you. Your hand stops her, gesturing to your lap instead. You don’t want her to dirty her clothes. She gently sits down, back against your chest. She holds your hand in hers.
“They’re not going to say it in public… but they’re thankful. For what you did.”
“I don’t care about them. They saw what he was doing. Didn’t do anything.”
“Hey. You’re angry. I get it. But don’t blame them. The only person to blame is that bastard.”
You’re quiet. She’s right. You place your lips over her shoulder, kissing it gently.
“Are you okay? Drunk?”
She squeezes your hand. “Maybe a little.”
“Come on then. Let’s sober you up.”
——
Sohyun watches as you slowly pack your things into a box. Security guards watching your every move.
Rumours were quick to spread. Of the inappropriate way the manager was acting during the dinner. You thought you’d be arrested for assault. Except, everyone at the dinner defended you and someone let slip to the restaurant the company you all worked at. Online posts begin circulating: how this company could allow such behaviour. How the workplace must be such a toxic environment.
It was shut down quickly by the higher ups, ordering an internal investigation. Obviously, they couldn’t tolerate violence against a manager, so even if everyone defended you, you still had to be let go.
It’s fine though. You hated this place anyway.
You finish packing. Head to the elevator escorted by the guards. When you reach the ground floor, you hand them your ID, bow to them before walking out the door.
Xinyu’s outside. Waiting for you.
——
You find yourself in a small cafe. No one here save for you, Xinyu, and a barista who finds her phone more interesting than anything else.
“It’s not fair. Firing you.”
You look up from your mug, a small, defeated smile on your face. “You say that as if they had choice,” you watch as she’s about to protest, only for you to continue. “I broke his nose. They can’t keep me on after that.”
You watch for her reaction. When she lets out a frustrated sigh, you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
After a couple of minutes of just sitting there, drinking your coffee, she speaks. “So… you and Sohyun huh?”
You were about to say something before she stops you with her hand. “No one punches their manager unless they’re doing something to someone you like. Would you do it again? If it was me?”
You don’t hesitate. “I would.”
She stares into your eyes. Relief flooding her face at your answer. Her eyes though. They looked resigned. Like, despite hearing the answer she wanted, it was not what she actually wanted.
It felt like a confession. Of the crush you harboured for her for the last three years. You wonder what would’ve happened if it was her and not Sohyun you got close with.
You rid yourself of that thought. You don’t regret any of this.
“I told you that you were different since you spent more time with Sohyun. You asked if that was good or bad…”
“I remember.”
“It was a good thing. Even if she can be a bit… territorial.”
“Like when she had you in her lap? Hand on your thigh?”
She winces at the memory. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. It was hot.”
Her eyes widen in shock, disbelief at what you said. You’re also pretty sure that the barista’s no longer paying attention to her phone, more interested in your conversation.
“I don’t really have a filter anymore.” You wave your hand in the air as if your explanation made it all better.
“Did she ever… talk about me?” She asks shyly. You lean in, ready to tell her about the supply closet before she sits up straight. Covers her ears with her hands. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”
You laugh. First time since the incident.
She smiles back at you.
“I should probably get going. Keep in touch.” She walks over to your side of the table, presses her lips to your cheek before walking out.
“There’s someone better than her?”
You turn at the sudden question from the barista. You can only give her a sharp nod.
——
You wipe the steam from the mirror. Stare at your reflection. Watch as water droplets slide down your face, into the scruff of your beard.
You need to shave.
You open the cupboard below the sink. Take out a razor and the shaving cream. You stand, turn the faucet on to wet your face a bit more.
You hear a whistle. Turning, Sohyun stands by the door. Hair in a high ponytail. Suit jacket discarded, she’s left in a black shirt, black pencil skirt, black stockings.
You exhale loudly. Those damn stockings.
“Wow,” she says, eyeing you like candy. “Hot.”
You scoff. You face the mirror, applying the shaving cream. “Just got back?”
“Uh-huh.” She’s closer now, leaning beside the mirror, watching you. “Have to say… would you consider wearing a Santa Claus outfit? It’s one of my fantasies.”
The blade freezes by your cheek. You would’ve said no without hesitation. Now, you’re actually contemplating hiring one.
She moves until she’s between you and the mirror, pries the blade from your hand. One hand pulls on the skin, the other slowly glides the blade against your skin. “The office. It’s boring now.”
You don’t say anything. Watch the concentration on her face. Only when she washes the blade do you speak.
“What? No one to flirt with? No intern kissing the floor you stand on?”
That annoyed her. She hooks a finger into your mouth, pulls your cheek taut before going over it with the blade. She scowls at you. You’ve long since stopped being afraid of it. Now it’s adorable.
The two of you have been fucking so much, you actually forgot how beautiful she was. Her eyes are focused, calculating. Pale skin contrasting against her dark clothes. Her mouth set in quiet concentration, plump. Perfect for kissing.
“You’re staring.” She finishes. Wipes the blade clean before tossing it into the trash.
You push her into the sink. You move until she’s flush against your skin. She cranes her neck up to see you. You’re more focused on the elegant line of her neck. The way her throat moves as she swallows thickly.
Before you can capture her lips, she presses a finger against your lips.
“Aftershave.”
You lean back, watch her grab the bottle. She pours a generous amount on her hand, spreads it before touching your face.
It burns.
You don’t break eye contact, keeping her hands on your cheek as you kiss her.
When you separate, your towel drops with a soft thud, pooling around you. She looks down, breath hitching at the sight of you, hard and leaking. She grabs you, takes you back into the shower. No care about what happens to her clothes.
——
Despite not working there anymore, you’re still kept in the loop on what’s happening in the office. Text messages from Xinyu to conversations during dinner with Sohyun.
You hear the passcode being entered into your door before opening. Sohyun’s home.
She kicks off her heels, leaves them lying on the floor. Drops her laptop bag by the shoe cabinet before walking toward you. Slow. Exaggerated hip sway. Her eyes never leaving yours.
You watch, mesmerised. Laptop forgotten on your lap. Your throat goes dry as she removes her hair clip. Shakes her hair loose. Soft and wavy. Framing her face in a way that makes you anticipate what she’ll do next. She drags her thumb across her lips, removes the lipstick before darting her tongue out, slowly licking them.
What is she doing to you?
Her hands find the zipper on her skirt, drags it down slow before letting it pool by her feet. You finally see her eyes, a predatory gleam to them. Dark. You can’t look away. Even as she slowly unbuttons her shirt, letting it glide down to the floor. Until she’s left in only her bra and panties. And stockings.
She stops in front of you. Closes your laptop. Tosses it on the far end of the couch. She straddles you, her weight settling on your lap.
“Rough day?”
Her fingers thread through your hair. Your eyes slowly close at the sensation. You feel her fingers move, from your hair to your glasses. She removes them, tossing them away.
She presses her lips to yours before speaking. “Had another interview about the manager. More like an interrogation.”
Another kiss.
“Talked about the incident. About you.”
Another.
“I think they wanted me to pin it all on you.”
You open your eyes then, half lidded. Hers the same, filled with lust.
“Did you?” You ask, voice hoarse.
She shakes her head, more strands fall over her eyes as she leans in again.
“They wish. Xinyu says there’s enough evidence for a full inquiry on him.”
Another kiss. Longer. Slower.
You separate. She whispers into your mouth. “I thought about you all day.”
She grabs your hands. Place one on her waist, the other on her breast. She moves her lips beside yours before biting your earlobe. You groan.
“Thought about your hands. Your mouth. Your—“
You couldn’t help but buck into her. You feel the sharp intake of breath. She’s smiling before biting your earlobe again.
“Sohyun—“
“Shh…” she pulls back, looks at you, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
She kisses you. Hungry. Deep.
You kiss back. Hands moving to her back. Fingertips lightly grazing her spine. She shivers. You feel the bra clasp. Undo it, letting it slide down her arms. She throws it somewhere behind her.
You start travelling lower, pressing your lips against her neck, collarbone before ending at her breasts. You alternate between both, giving extra attention to the nipples.
She moans loudly. Holds your head, keeping it close to her chest. One hand moves down, palms you through your pants.
Eventually, she pushes you off, dives back into your mouth.
You separate, both breathing hard.
“Bedroom?” You ask.
She shakes her head.
“Here. Now.”
She tugs on your shirt incessantly. You pull it off with ease, throwing it somewhere behind her.
She presses her lips on you: neck, shoulder, chest. They’re featherlight. Goosebumps appear on your skin.
She suddenly stands and turns, hooks her fingers into her stockings and pulls them down. Slowly. Ass pointed to you. Her head turns to face you, eyes gesturing to your sweatpants.
You get rid of them quickly, to not miss the show in front of you.
She kicks the stockings off her feet. Stands in front of you in only her underwear.
You move forward. Kiss her hipbone, her stomach, her thighs as you slowly peel them off her. You hear her panting, her hands twisting in your hair.
“No… I need you now.”
She pushes you back, straddling you quickly before lowering herself onto you.
You both groan simultaneously at the feeling.
Neither of you move, content with kissing. Only when the need to breathe becomes important did you separate. Foreheads touching, eyes staring deeply into yours as she starts rocking.
You hold her waist. Let her control the pace.
Her fingers move, gently grazes your jaw as she moans. As loud as she wants.
You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The way she sits up, one hand messing with hair. The way she looks down at you, eyes darkening as bites her bottom lip.
She’s losing it. Her rhythm, her voice.
You don’t want it to end.
She’s surprised when you lift, legs locking onto your waist. Her hands cup your face, kisses you desperately.
You turn, placing her onto the couch. She’s on her knees, facing the window, twinkling with lights outside.
You crouch behind her. Enter her slow. She bites her knuckles, eyes squeezed tight.
Only when you’re fully in do you move, matching the same pace as before. Long. Slow. You’re pressed into her back, one hand on her waist, the other just below her neck.
“F—fuck…”
You feel her tears fall onto your arm, hear the way she scratches the back of the couch with both hands. You pull one arm up, intertwine your fingers together as you get closer to release.
She’s louder now. You are too, breathing into her ear. You bite down on her shoulder to stop a loud moan. She pushes back against you, arching her back further.
She turns to face you, face covered in sweat, hair sticking. She captures your lips in a messy kiss as the hand on her waist finds her clit.
“Fuck. F—fuck…”
Her orgasm hits hard, moans muffled by your mouth. Holds onto your intertwined fingers tightly.
You keep going, prolonging her pleasure until you release into her.
You stay like that for what felt like hours. Heart racing. You wait until her breathing’s under control before you move, both of you moaning at the loss.
You sit beside her. She collapses into you before her head falls onto your lap. She looks up. Satisfied. Smiling.
“Feel better?”
“Hmm. Much.”
You smile, threading your fingers through her hair. You watch as she hums, closes her eyes and relax.
——
“Oh shit.”
She’s sitting on the counter in only your dress shirt, swinging her feet as you chop vegetables beside her. She grabs a piece. You open your mouth, still chopping as she places it in. You tease her by gently biting her finger. She slaps you on the shoulder.
“What is it?”
She turns her phone screen toward you. Placing the knife on the chopping board, you walk until you’re between her legs, reading the news article. You ignore the way her breathing stutters as you place your hands on her bare thighs.
“Shit.”
The company has taken a hit. A really bad one. Stocks free falling. The manager that you beat to a pulp at the centre of it all. Selling secrets to competitors. Private chats about the women in the office.
Your hand clenches.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” You let go of her thigh, rubbing where you grabbed it too hard. You don’t notice that you’re caressing her higher than before, still engrossed in the article.
She locks her phone screen, places it on the counter beside her.
“Hey. I was reading that.”
She gently tilts your chin up. “Look at me.”
You meet her eyes. She’s searching your face.
“You okay?”
You exhale. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath.
“I’m—” You stop. Are you okay?
“You were right,” she says softly. “What you did. You were right.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She cups your face. “Because you look like you want to hit him again.”
You laugh. It’s sharp, humourless. “I do.”
She nods. Doesn’t tell you that’s wrong. Doesn’t tell you to let it go.
“All the women he did that to. If I could go back,” you say slowly, “I’d do it again. Harder.”
“I know.”
You rest your forehead against her shoulder. Close your eyes.
“I’m glad you’re not there anymore. That place was poison,” she whispers.
“That place was poison.”
You pull back. Look at her.
“Are you okay? Being there without me?”
She smiles. Small, but real.
“I’m looking for other jobs.”
Your heart skips.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She kisses you. Quick, soft. “I’m done with that place too.”
——
You play with the collar of your dress shirt. It’s too tight round your neck, you’re suffocating.
“Stop that. She’d kill you if you mess with it.”
You stare at her through her vanity mirror. She puts on the final touches of makeup, checks herself before giving you a wink and kiss in the reflection.
She moves towards you, takes the tie from your hand before helping you with it.
“I still can’t believe she’s getting married.”
“Why? You still have a crush on her?” She pulls your tie too hard, making you splutter.
You had to tap her hand to get her to release.
You cough. “I’m just saying. She left the company same time as you. When was that? Two years ago? And she’s getting married already? Isn’t that too soon?”
She pats your shoulder. “Just be happy for her.” She leaves you standing there, moving to the living room.
You can’t help but stare, wishing she’d wear dresses more often. Thin straps, the hem just barely reaching her knees. The pastel pink colour. Not to mention the headband.
You love her.
“Come on. We’re going to be late.”
You follow her to the front door. You kneel down, help her with her heels as she holds you for stability. You let your fingers linger on her calf, rising to her thighs before she pushes you off.
“We don’t have time.”
You laugh, putting your shoes on. As soon as you were about to open the door, she stops you.
“Wait.”
She reaches down, pulls her panties down before handing them to you. She smiles and winks at you, gives you a quick kiss before heading out first.
You look at them, eyes wide. You stuff them into your pocket, running after her.
1.3k boner fueled haze with sideward philosophical considerations.
a/n: This might be the dirtiest thing I've ever written lmaoooo, randomly wanted to write today. Also, I decided the mechanics of typing quotation marks is just annoying... let me know if it's too hard to read. It's so much easier for me if I can write like this T-T
-
Daddy, she mewls.
Hands in your lap.
There's no sympathy for her. You're in this cramped bathroom with her, your groin pushed up to her face, and all she can say is: Daddy.
Open your mouth
Through the small opening in her mouth, you slot in a finger, trace the lower lip and upper lip - gather spit from the tip of her tongue to glaze her lips.
Wider. You say.
She's just sitting there, rubbing her thighs together - like she isn't so fucked and slippery in her underwear that just a small touch could make her cum - that you pressing a finger into her mouth - letting her throat close around that digit - wouldn't make her burst into decibels and let the whole town know that you - her dependable assistant - is fucking her dumb.
She's doing this to prove that she's listening - that she can be... good. Her own idea of being better for you - this twisted idea.
She's staring at how you unbutton your pants. Button by button, all the way until your cock's out half-mast diagonal to her face and she's fucking drooling. Slowly moving forward and you pin her head to the wall of the bathroom stall.
How do you want this dick?
Like how you fucked her.
And this 'her' is the mystical idea - Sohyun thinks you fucked that other girl so much better than you fucked Sohyun. That in her twisted world, the way you fucked Sohyun wasn't the same as that girl.
And you keep telling her:
You think I'm not enjoying every moment with you? That day, we fucked like lovers. You cup her cheeks with one hand and her glazed lips point out duck-like. I'll show you what I like.
You bundle two fingers - index and ring - down her mouth, until her throat closes and she half-gags. Eyes fill with these tears and she tries to straighten herself. All the while, your fingers are still down there, and it makes it hard for her breathe but -
She's fucking climaxing, barely keeping her hands on her lap. A breathless moan escapes her and you take this opportunity to let your fingers in deeper. Her chest jerks, a tear goes down her left cheek as your knuckles bump her teeth.
Roughly: good girl.
White-knuckled against her spit-trickled dress shirt that won her millions in lawsuits. Just then, you pull your fingers out, and she finally gets to swallow down.
There's this unscrupulous contradiction you keep thinking about: you read about the dadaists and about how they contradict everything they see and you thought: what a bunch of fucking clowns. About how the world's at peace and the dadaists would actually want war rather than peace and all of it was so incorrigible - so unfathomable. Until you met Sohyun, this trailblazing lawyer in need of an assistant who would do her grunt work. The internship experience seemed great and all but the days were hell. An attitude that betrayed her beauty (or supported it). By the 3rd week you were telling your parents that you'd rather become a line cook than anything ambitious, anything that could take them out of suburban mortgage hell. Then the day after that you came inside her and everything crumpled.
Your spit-slick fingers wrapped around your cock and you fisted it gently, just inches away from her mouth. She couldn't help but move forward, but you pin her head again and she's completely mindless - obeying any mechanic of hers that'll grant her a feather of stimulus.
You tap your cock against her tongue. You could see the way her lips twitched to close, but she seemed to contextualize enough context to know that anything that you didn't allow would be swiftly punished. And maybe now everything was dawning on her:
That you enjoyed sex with her rather than the opposite - that sex may not be just about desperation and grisly bounces and broken penises (oh the horror!) and hoarse-broken throats. That it's supposed to be as intimate as the day you came inside her.
Because this? This was heady, broken, and embarrassing - and all of it was happening in her own office bathroom that she shares with subordinates. One mistake and she's kicked off the ladder.
And yet:
I want all of it. I want it. I want it.
You could see how her cloudy eyes mechanized - she was about to cum again - you let your tip on her tongue and she's already around the cycle again. You press the heft of your shaft into her mouth and push in gently. Push in gently because she already came, push in gently because you want to savor - for a few moments longer - how she crumples under you.
You're gentle with it, letting her set the pace, letting her get breaths between strokes. She anchors herself, and this control you give her makes her shiver - even the way her throat clenches when she goes too deep has that particular tremor.
She pulls back to breathe, a strand of saliva still connects your tip and her lower lip. And she's staring at the corded red-tipped shaft, speechless.
Stand up
She does, her skirt crumpled just a way's up. She's expectant, wanting something. But this wasn't a day for her wants.
You grab the waistbands of her panties and nylon, pull it down midway and her pussy's just glistening - all-pink, heady, musky, almost pulsing.
Hold your skirt up
And she does, further surrendering to your hand around her throat. And everything was a bit clearer:
You began fisting your spit-slick cock again, pointed down to her panties. Another embarrassing and heady position she can't seem to get enough of: Her eyes are full of will-you's and wants that she can't act on. You press a thumb over her pulse - grunting more hunch-backed trying to not spray your cum too early - and you tighten, tighten until she grips your forearms and loses her breath for just a second - then you release. There's this rush of inhales and exhales as she catches some air and you repeat it - until, just until, you press harder than you've done before and you cum all over her panties. Cloudy liquid dotting her skirt, the floor, the nylon , the front of her pussy, and all over the panties.
Fuck.
Is all she says, can say. You pin her jaw to the side so that she can't look at you, only the door, the cruel door that may open for a coworker - and you jolt closer, scooping a bit of your cum and letting two fingers enter her just then. And she's already climaxing, screaming in her own hand.
This is what happens when I do what I want.
Your nose is buried into her exposed throat and your fingers throttling her pussy. your callused hand scraping the hood of her clit, your hooked finger rubbing that spot that makes her legs splinter half-way. You take your fingers out and mash the front of her pussy with the heel of your palm before going into her again. She's rolling with how your cum-slicked fingers penetrate her.
Her body finally gives out and that's when you hug her, your fingers still slotted into her.
In truth, I can't fuck you the way I fucked her - whatever mystical conception of you have of her. Your fingers finally slow their rolls. I want to enjoy my time with you, not treat you like trash.
And her reply, as best as it could be presented: a wet kiss, hands wrapped around you, grasping the hair behind your head.
Her kiss fluttered gently as you finally let her have one final climax.
I love you.
a/n: let me know if yall want the au I came up with that sets the background of this story lmao.
Your eyes opened to the soft, unfamiliar grey of a room that wasn’t yours. The air held a crisp, clean scent, a mix of linen and something faintly floral—her shampoo, maybe. Awareness came in layers. First, the weight of a down comforter. Then, the warmth. A profound, solid warmth pressed along your side, a line of heat from your shoulder to your hip. And finally, the sound. A soft, rhythmic sigh against your chest.
You tilted your head, a movement that sent a faint ache through your neck—the kind that spoke of a deep, unplanned sleep. Your vision adjusted, and the world crystallized into a single, impossible detail.
Sohyun’s face was nestled against you. Her cheek rested on the bare skin of your sternum, her features smoothed by sleep into an expression of profound peace. Her black hair, as sleek and dark as spilled ink, fanned across your chest and the white sheets, catching the weak morning light filtering through the blinds. Each exhalation from her parted lips was a warm, steady ghost against your skin, a tiny anchor in the quiet room. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of her ribs against your own.
Your heart, which had been beating a slow, sleepy rhythm, suddenly decided it was late for a marathon. Thump-thump-thump-thump. It felt like a trapped bird trying to escape the cage of your ribs, a frantic drumbeat you were certain would vibrate through your bones and wake her.
You’d been in love with her since high school. It wasn’t a gentle crush; it was a foundational fact of your existence, as constant and inexplicable as gravity. Sohyun, the senior with the sharp mind and the sharper smile, who moved through the halls with a quiet, magnetic confidence that made everyone—boys and girls alike—turn their heads. She wasn’t just beautiful; she had that handsome girl charisma, a compelling blend of elegant grace and a subtle, understated strength that lived in the set of her shoulders and the directness of her gaze. It had lasted through graduation, through her moving to university, through you following a year later, a planet forever caught in a distant, hopeless orbit around a brilliant, unattainable sun.
And now she was here. In your bed. On you.
How? The question screamed in your head, but the memory of last night was a murky pool of laughter, loud music, and the hazy glow of too many cheap beers at a campus-wide party. You’d seen her there, of course. You always saw her. She’d been holding court with a circle of friends, her laugh cutting through the din like clear silver. You’d mumbled a hello, she’d given you that brief, dazzling smile that never quite reached her assessing eyes, and then… blank. A void until this moment of waking terror and elation.
A more pressing need asserted itself. Your bladder was full. The urge to move, to extricate yourself from this heavenly trap, became physical. You tried to shift, to slide out from under her with glacial slowness. You tensed your abdominal muscles, began the delicate process of lifting your torso…
Her body tightened against yours. It was a subtle coiling, like a cat sensing a disturbance in its nap. The arm she had draped across your stomach flexed, her fingers splaying against your side. A low, rough sound vibrated from her throat into your chest, a sleep-graveled rumble that was nothing like her usual clear, melodic voice.
“Where are you going.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, thick with sleep and a possessiveness that stole the air from your lungs. Her eyes were still closed, long lashes fanning against her cheekbones.
You froze, half-raised, suspended in an awkward crunch. “I… bathroom,” you managed, your own voice a dry croak.
One eye cracked open. Just one. A sliver of dark, intelligent brown peered up at you, clouded with sleep but already far too perceptive. “Mm.” The sound was an acknowledgment, not a permission. She didn’t move her arm. “You’ll come back.”
Another statement. Your brain short-circuited. You’ll come back. Was it a command? A sleepy assumption? A hope? You couldn’t parse it. All you could do was nod, a stiff, jerky motion.
That seemed to satisfy her. The eye closed, and her body relaxed back into its warm, heavy weight against you, though her arm remained firmly in place. “Don’t be long. It’s cold.”
You were burning up. Slowly, with the care of a bomb disposal expert, you slid out from under her arm. The loss of her warmth was instant and shocking, a cold draft rushing in to fill the space where she had been. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet hitting a cool wooden floor. You were in your boxers and nothing else. You glanced back.
Sohyun had curled into the space you vacated, pulling the comforter up to her chin. Her hair spilled over the pillow like a shadow. In the dim light, she looked younger, softer than the untouchable senior you idolized. Real.
The bathroom was small, clinical. You splashed cold water on your face, staring at your wide-eyed reflection. Get a grip. You took care of business, the mundane act somehow grounding. The questions returned, louder now. How did she get here? Did you talk? Did you say something stupid? Did you… try anything? A cold dread seeped in. What if you’d made a fool of yourself and she was just too polite to leave?
You washed your hands, taking your time, trying to piece together fragments. A memory surfaced: stumbling out of the party into the cool night air, your head spinning. A voice beside you. Her voice. “You look like you’re about to face-plant into the quad. Come on, I’m this way.” An arm slipping under yours, surprisingly strong, holding you up. The smell of her perfume—jasmine and clean skin—cutting through the beer fumes. Mumbled apologies from you, a dismissive chuckle from her. A key in a door… not your dorm door. Hers?
You leaned against the sink. You’d been in her apartment. She’d brought you home. Because you were a drunken mess. The elation curdled into a sharp humiliation. Of course. Sohyun, ever responsible, ever the caretaker, had seen a pathetic underclassman about to pass out and taken pity on him. The fact that she’d let you sleep in her bed was just… practicality. Probably only had one bed. Nothing more.
The narrative settled, cold and heavy. It made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
You walked back into the bedroom, your steps quieter now, deflated. The grey light had brightened to a pale gold. She was awake. Propped on one elbow, the comforter pooled around her waist, she was watching you. She wore a simple black tank top, the straps thin against the smooth slopes of her shoulders. Her hair was tousled, a beautiful mess. Her gaze was clear, alert, and utterly unreadable.
“You snore,” she said, her voice back to its normal timbre, but with a morning huskiness that wrapped around the words.
“I… I’m sorry.” You stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, feeling exposed in your boxers.
“Don’t be. It was consistent. Like a distant engine.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Predictable.”
You didn’t know what to do with that. “Sohyun, about last night… thank you. And I’m so sorry. I must have been—”
“A disaster?” she finished for you, the smile growing a fraction. “You were. A charming disaster, but a disaster nonetheless. You tried to explain the philosophical implications of the university’s grading system to a potted plant outside the Student Union.”
You winced, heat flooding your face. “Oh, god.”
“It’s fine.” She sat up fully, stretching her arms over her head. The movement pulled the fabric of her tank top taut, outlining the lean muscles of her arms, the subtle curve of her breasts. You forced your eyes to the window. “You were harmless. And you looked so lost. I couldn’t just leave you to wander into a fountain.”
“You brought me here,” you stated, needing to hear it.
“My couch is a torture device disguised as furniture. It would have been inhumane.” She swung her legs out of bed. She was wearing matching black sleep shorts that ended mid-thigh. Her legs were long, lean, defined. She stood up, and you were struck again by her presence—she was almost your height, and she carried herself with a quiet ownership of any space she occupied. She padded past you, her shoulder lightly brushing your arm. A spark, a static shock of contact. “Coffee?”
“Uh, sure. Yes. Please.”
You followed her into the small, tidy kitchenette. She moved with an efficient, unhurried grace, filling a kettle, scooping grounds into a French press. The silence was dense, filled with the sounds of her movements and your own thrumming nervousness.
“You don’t remember much, do you?” she asked, not turning around.
“Not after… after the plant, no.”
She chuckled, a soft, warm sound. “You talked a lot. Before you passed out.”
A new kind of dread, colder and deeper, took root. “About what?”
The kettle began to whistle. She poured the water over the grounds, a rich, earthy scent blooming in the air. “Oh, this and that. Your classes. Your terrible roommate. Your dog back home.” She paused, setting the kettle down. She still hadn’t turned to face you. “How you ended up at this university.”
Your mouth went dry. You knew where this was going. You’d told that story once, drunk on cheap wine at a freshman mixer, to a friend who’d later teased you mercilessly. I followed a girl here. Pathetic, right?
“And why was that?” she asked, her voice deliberately light, conversational. She finally turned, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. Her eyes were on you, steady and waiting.
You could lie. You could make up something about the academic program, the campus. But under that gaze, the truth felt like the only thing that had any weight. You looked down at your bare feet on her kitchen tile. “You know why.”
The silence stretched. The coffee steeped.
“I think I do,” she said, her voice dropping, losing its casual edge. “But I’ve been known to be wrong. Humor me.”
You dragged your eyes up to meet hers. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff. “I saw you, at a high school debate tournament. You were arguing for reducing the voting age. You were… electric. You dismantled the other team with logic, but you never raised your voice. You just knew things. And afterwards, you were standing by the trophy case, and some guy from the other school came up to you, all cocky, trying to flirt. And you just looked at him, gave him this tiny, pitying smile, and said, ‘Your premise was flawed from the start. I suggest you review your foundational material.’” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I applied here a week later. I didn’t even look at the brochure.”
Sohyun didn’t move. Her expression was inscrutable. “That was three years ago.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been here two years.”
“Yeah.”
“And in all that time, you’ve said maybe fifty words to me. Total.”
Your face was on fire. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I upended my life because you were smart and beautiful and I’m kind of obsessed’?”
A flicker of something crossed her face—surprise, maybe, or amusement. “It’s a starting point.”
She pushed off the counter and pressed down the plunger on the French press. The thunk was final in the quiet room. She poured two mugs, black, and handed one to you. Your fingers brushed. This time, the contact was deliberate, prolonged. Her skin was warm from the mug.
“You should say it now,” she said, holding her own mug close to her face, the steam curling around her features.
“What?”
“The thing you were supposed to say.” She took a sip, watching you over the rim. “Consider this a… belated opportunity. A morning-after debrief, if you will.”
This was a test. A game. One you were woefully unprepared for. You took a gulp of the scalding coffee, needing the pain to focus. “I upended my life because you were the most compelling person I’d ever seen. Because you have a mind that’s terrifying and a smile that’s… worse. Because for three years, you’ve been the standard I measure everything against, and it’s incredibly annoying.” The words were tumbling out now, raw and unpolished. “And waking up with you on me was the best and most confusing moment of my entire life, and I have no idea what it means, and I’m half-convinced I’m still drunk and hallucinating.”
She was silent for a long moment. Then she set her mug down on the counter with a soft click. She took two steps towards you, closing the distance in the small kitchen. You could smell the coffee on her breath, see the tiny flecks of amber in her brown eyes. Her presence was overwhelming.
“It means,” she said, her voice a low, intimate murmur, “that you talk too much when you’re drunk, but you’re surprisingly honest. It means I’ve known you were following me around like a lost puppy since freshman orientation. It means I brought you here last night because I was tired of watching you watch me from across rooms.” She reached out, not touching you, but her hand hovered near your arm. “And it means this morning, I didn’t want you to get out of my bed.”
The world tilted. The careful, humiliating narrative you’d constructed in the bathroom shattered. “You… knew?”
“Of course I knew.” A genuine smile, one that reached her eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. It was devastating. “You’re not subtle. You have this… look. Like you’re trying to solve a very complicated, very beautiful equation.”
“And that’s not… creepy?”
“It was, at first. Then it became… familiar. Then it became something I looked for.” She finally let her fingertips make contact, tracing a line from your wrist to your elbow. The touch was feather-light, exploratory. Your skin prickled in its wake. “You’re different when you think no one’s looking. Less nervous. More… intense.”
“Sohyun, I…” You had no words left. The equation was solved, and the answer was standing right in front of you, touching your arm.
“Shh.” Her finger came up, pressing gently against your lips. The shock of it was electric. “You’ve said your piece. Now it’s my turn.” She leaned in closer. Her breath fanned your cheek. “I don’t do this. I don’t bring drunk boys home. I don’t let them sleep in my bed. I don’t make them coffee in the morning. And I certainly don’t tell them they’ve been a persistent, intriguing fixture in my peripheral vision for two years.” Her lips were so close you could almost feel their shape. “But I find I want to see what happens when you’re not just watching from a distance. I want to see if that intensity I’ve glimpsed is really there.”
She pulled back, just an inch, her dark eyes searching yours. The tension in the air was a living thing, thick and sweet as honey. It wasn’t sexual, not yet—it was something more profound, a terrifying, exhilarating negotiation of power and vulnerability. She was offering you a glimpse behind the curtain, but she was still firmly holding the rope.
“What do you want to happen?” you breathed, the question barely audible.
Her thumb brushed your lower lip, a slow, considering stroke. “I want you to finish your coffee. I want you to stop looking at me like I’m about to disappear. And I want you to decide if you’re brave enough to stop being the boy in the shadows and try being the one standing next to me.” She dropped her hand, the loss of contact a physical ache. “The coffee’s getting cold.”
She turned and walked back towards the bedroom, leaving you standing in the kitchen, your heart hammering against your ribs, her scent in the air, and the ghost of her touch burning on your skin.
The silence after her words wasn’t empty. It was full of the low hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic from the street below, and the deafening roar of your own pulse in your ears. Brave enough. The phrase echoed, a challenge and an invitation tangled together. You stared at the dark liquid in your mug, seeing not coffee but the reflection of the shaky, impossible future she’d just sketched in the air between you.
You took a gulp. It was lukewarm, bitter. You drank it anyway, needing the ritual, the anchor of a simple action. When you lowered the mug, your hand was steadier than you felt.
She was in the bedroom. You could hear the soft shuffle of fabric, a drawer opening and closing. Normal morning sounds in an utterly abnormal situation. You placed your empty mug in the sink, the ceramic click too loud in the quiet apartment. You walked to the bedroom doorway and leaned against the frame.
Sohyun was standing by her dresser, her back to you. She had changed out of the sleep shorts and tank top. Now she wore a pair of simple, faded black jeans and was pulling a soft-looking grey sweater over her head. The fabric caught on her shoulders for a second before she tugged it down, the movement stretching the material across her back. She smoothed her hair with one hand, the black strands slipping through her fingers like dark water.
“Decided?” she asked, without turning around. Her voice was casual, but there was an edge underneath it, a thread of anticipation.
“I’m here,” you said. It was all you could manage.
She turned then. The sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath. She looked you up and down, a slow, assessing sweep that made you hyper-aware of your state of undress—just your boxers in her morning-lit bedroom. “You are,” she agreed. A small, private smile played on her lips. “But are you present? Or are you still that boy watching from the doorway of the lecture hall?”
You pushed off the doorframe, taking a step into the room. The wooden floor was cool under your feet. “I don’t know how to be anything else with you.”
“Then learn.” She took a step toward you, closing the distance. She stopped just out of arm’s reach. “The first lesson is honesty. Raw, inconvenient honesty. You just gave me some in the kitchen. Don’t stop now.” She tilted her head. “What do you want right now, this second?”
The question was a trap and a gift. You could give the safe answer, the polite one. Or you could leap. Your mouth was dry. “I want to touch you.”
Her eyes darkened, the brown deepening to something closer to black. “Where?”
Your breath faltered. This was it. The point of no return. “Your hair. Your face. Your…” You gestured weakly toward her, your hand fluttering in the space between you. “Your waist.”
“Specific,” she murmured, and it sounded like praise. “Good. And what do you think I want?”
“I have no idea,” you admitted, the honesty wrenched out of you. “You’re… you’re Sohyun. You’re in control. You’re always ten steps ahead.”
“Am I?” She took the final step, erasing the gap. Now you could feel the warmth radiating from her body, could smell the clean, floral scent of her skin mixed with the faint musk of sleep. “Right now, I’m one step ahead. Maybe half a step. And what I want is very simple.” She reached up and placed her palm flat against your chest, right over your pounding heart. Her hand was warm, her touch firm, grounding. “I want to see if you can keep up.”
Her hand slid up, over your collarbone, to rest at the side of your neck. Her thumb brushed the line of your jaw. It was the lightest of touches, but it sent a current straight down your spine. Your skin tightened, every nerve ending waking up.
“You’ve watched me for years,” she said, her voice dropping to that intimate murmur again. “You’ve imagined this, haven’t you?”
You couldn’t lie. Not under that gaze. “Yes.”
“Tell me one thing you imagined. One specific thing.”
Your mind, usually so quick to supply embarrassing, clumsy fantasies, went blank. Then one surfaced, clear and vivid. “I imagined what it would be like to kiss you after you won a debate. When you were still buzzing with adrenaline. I thought… I thought you’d taste like victory.”
A genuine, surprised laugh escaped her, a short, bright sound. “That’s disgustingly poetic.” Her thumb stroked your jaw again. “And?”
“And I was afraid I’d be too nervous to do it right.”
“And now?” Her eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. “Are you nervous now?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.” Her other hand came up to mirror the first, so she was cradling your face. Her grip was gentle but undeniable. “Don’t be brave. Just be honest. Follow my lead.”
She leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, to freeze, to be the boy in the shadows. You didn’t. You stood there, your heart trying to batter its way out of your chest, as her face filled your vision. Her eyes stayed open, watching you, until the last possible moment before her lips met yours.
The first touch was a soft, closed-mouth press. A testing. The warmth of her mouth was a shock, softer than you’d ever dreamed. She held there for a long, suspended second, and the world narrowed to that single point of contact—the incredible, impossible reality of Sohyun’s mouth on yours. She pulled back a fraction, her breath mingling with yours. Her eyes searched your face, reading the shock, the awe, the burgeoning hunger there.
Then she kissed you again.
This time, there was purpose. Her lips moved, parting just slightly, applying a subtle, increasing pressure. A silent question. Your body answered before your mind could. Your own lips parted in response, and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t frantic or sloppy; it was deliberate, a slow exploration. The feeling of her lower lip between yours was so intensely focused it blurred everything else. You could feel the smooth texture, the plush give of it.
A low sound hummed in her throat, a vibration you felt through the connection of your mouths. It spurred you on. Your hands, which had been hanging uselessly at your sides, came up. Tentatively, you placed them on her waist, over the soft wool of her sweater. The reality of her shape under your palms—the slight inward curve, the firmness of her hip bones—was almost too much.
She responded by sliding her hands from your face into your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. The slight tug sent a jolt of pure heat directly to your core. Her tongue touched your lower lip, a hot, wet swipe that made your knees feel loose.
You opened for her, and she took the invitation.
The kiss transformed. It became deeper, wetter, a slow tangle of heat and sensation. The taste of her was clean, like mint toothpaste and black coffee, and underneath it, something uniquely her—a faint, elusive sweetness. Your head spun. This was nothing like the clumsy, rushed kisses you’d experienced before. This was a conversation, a negotiation of pressure and rhythm. She would advance, her tongue sliding against yours, and then retreat, sucking gently on your lip, letting you chase her. Then she’d let you lead for a moment, meeting your slower explorations with a hum of approval.
One of her hands drifted down from your hair, over your shoulder, down your arm, then back up under the sleeve of your—well, you weren’t wearing a sleeve. Her fingertips traced the muscles of your bicep, your tricep, mapping you with a curious, possessive touch. It was your turn to make a sound, a ragged exhale that was almost a moan against her mouth.
She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to speak. Her lips were flushed, glistening. “You’re learning fast,” she breathed, her own breathing slightly uneven.
“Good teacher,” you managed, your voice rough.
She smiled, a real, unguarded smile that made your chest ache. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Her eyes dropped to your chest, then lower. The evidence of your arousal was tenting the front of your boxers, obvious and undeniable. She didn’t comment on it, but her smile turned knowing, satisfied. “Now. You said you wanted to touch my hair.”
You nodded, wordless.
“So touch it.”
You brought a hand up, your fingers trembling slightly. You slid them into the hair at her temple, pushing it back. It was every bit as silky as it looked, cool and heavy as it slipped through your fingers. You cupped the back of her head, your palm against the elegant line of her skull. The intimacy of the hold, of having this powerful, controlled person yielding to your touch, was dizzying.
“Good,” she whispered. “Your turn. Ask for what you want.”
“Kiss me again,” you said, the words raw.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
This kiss was fiercer, hungrier. The careful control began to fray at the edges. Her hands slid down your back, pulling your body flush against hers. You could feel the soft press of her breasts against your chest, the hard buckle of her jeans against your stomach. The friction was maddening. You groaned into her mouth, your hips giving an involuntary jerk forward.
She broke away with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes blazing. “Bed,” she commanded, her voice husky.
She took your hand and led you the two steps to the side of her bed. She turned to face you, her gaze holding yours. “Last chance to be the boy in the shadows,” she said, but her tone held no doubt. She was stating a fact, not offering an out.
“I’m right here,” you repeated, and it felt like a vow.
Her fingers went to the hem of her grey sweater. She gathered the fabric in both hands and, in one smooth, unhurried motion, pulled it up over her head and tossed it aside. It landed on the floor with a soft whump.
She stood before you in just her jeans and the black bra. Her skin was a smooth, even canvas of light olive tone, flawless in the morning light. Her shoulders were elegantly defined, her collarbones sharp and beautiful. The bra was simple, lace-trimmed, and it held the gentle swell of her breasts, the curve of them making your mouth go dry.
“Your eyes,” she said softly, watching you look at her. “They’re so… hungry. I’ve seen that look from across rooms. Feeling it this close is different.” She reached behind her back, and with a deft twist, the clasp of her bra came undone. She let the straps slide down her arms, and then she dropped it, letting it join the sweater on the floor.
Your breath stopped.
Her breasts were perfect. Not large, but beautifully shaped, high and firm with dusky pink nipples that were already drawn into tight peaks from the cool air or the tension—maybe both. You stared, the image searing itself into your mind. The gentle slope, the subtle shadow underneath, the way they rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
“You can touch,” she said, her voice a low thrum. “You wanted my waist. That’s a start.”
Your hands found her waist again, now on bare skin. The warmth of her was a shock. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, like heated satin. Your thumbs stroked the delicate ridges of her ribs, feeling her muscles tense under your touch. You leaned in, drawn irresistibly, and pressed your lips to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse hammered against your mouth, a frantic, living rhythm.
She let out a shaky sigh, her head tilting back to give you better access. You kissed your way along her collarbone, nuzzling the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. The scent of her skin was intoxicating up close—warm, clean, deeply feminine.
“Higher,” she instructed, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.
You obeyed, trailing kisses up the column of her throat to her jaw. When you reached her mouth again, the kiss was explosive, all the built-up tension igniting. Her tongue plunged into your mouth, demanding, and you met her with equal fervor. Your hands slid from her waist around to the small of her back, pressing her even tighter against you. The feeling of her bare skin under your palms, the heat of her stomach against yours, was overwhelming.
One of her hands slipped between your bodies, her fingers tracing the hard line of your erection through the thin cotton of your boxers. You gasped, bucking into her touch.
“So eager,” she murmured against your lips, a note of triumph in her voice. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your boxers. “These are in the way.”
She pushed them down, and you helped, kicking them off your ankles. You stood naked before her, completely exposed, more vulnerable than you’d ever been. Her eyes raked over you, taking in every detail—the heave of your chest, the tense muscles of your stomach, the hard, flushed length of your cock standing starkly against your body. Her gaze lingered there, not with shyness, but with a frank, appraising curiosity that made your skin feel too tight.
“Look at you,” she said, almost to herself. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around you, not stroking, just holding, measuring the weight and heat of you in her hand. The contact was electric, a bolt of pure sensation that made your legs tremble. “All this time, all that intensity… it’s all right here.”
She gave one slow, firm stroke from root to tip, her thumb swirling over the slick head. You cried out, a broken, helpless sound, and your hands gripped her back desperately.
“Sohyun…”
“I know,” she soothed, but she didn’t stop. She established a slow, relentless rhythm, her hand gliding smoothly over your sensitive flesh. Her other hand came up to cup your face, forcing you to look at her. “Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. I want to see it. I want to see what I do to you.”
It was agony and ecstasy. The pleasure built in sharp, coiling waves, but her gaze held you captive, making the experience unbearably intimate. You were laid bare in every possible way. You could see the concentration in her face, the slight parting of her lips, the dark flush on her own cheeks. She was studying you, learning you, claiming you.
“I’m not… I can’t last…” you gritted out, your hips pistoning involuntarily into her fist.
“Not yet,” she commanded, and her hand stilled, squeezing lightly at the base of you. The edge receded, leaving you shuddering. “My turn.”
She released you and, with a push against your shoulders, guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. You landed with a soft jolt, looking up at her. She stood between your legs, looking down at you with that devastating, knowing smile. Her hands went to the button of her jeans.
She popped it open, then slowly drew down the zipper. The sound was loud in the quiet room. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband, and with a roll of her hips, she pushed the jeans down her legs. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
Now she wore only a pair of black lace panties, a tiny, delicate triangle that did little to hide the shape of her. Your eyes were glued to the thatch of dark hair visible through the fine lace, the generous curve of her hips, the long, powerful lines of her thighs.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words torn from you.
“I know,” she said again, but this time it wasn’t arrogance. It was a simple acceptance of a fact, and it was somehow more powerful. She placed her hands on your shoulders. “Lie back.”
You scooted back on the bed until your head hit the pillows. She climbed onto the mattress, kneeling over you, one knee on either side of your hips. She didn’t lower herself onto you. She just stayed there, poised above you, letting you look your fill. The morning light painted her in shades of gold and shadow, highlighting the dip of her waist, the smooth plane of her stomach, the proud lift of her breasts.
“You have no idea,” she said, her voice low and thick, “how long I’ve wanted to see that look on your face. Not admiration from afar. This. Want. Need. Ache.” She leaned down, bracing her hands on the pillow on either side of your head. Her hair fell around your face like a curtain, enclosing you in a world that was only her scent, her heat, her eyes. “Tell me what you ache for.”
Your hands came up to rest on her hips, your thumbs stroking the sharp crest of her pelvic bones through the lace. “You. All of you. I want to taste you. I want to feel you around me. I want to fuck you until neither of us remembers any other way to be.”
The crude, desperate words hung in the air. Her eyes flared, and for a second, the absolute control she wielded slipped, revealing a naked, answering hunger that took your breath away.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word a promise and a concession. “But not yet.” She lowered herself slowly, until her chest brushed against yours, the hard peaks of her nipples grazing your skin. The warmth of her body covered you, a delicious, suffocating weight. She nuzzled your ear, her lips finding the sensitive shell. “First, I want to feel your mouth on me. Everywhere. I want you to learn the taste of my skin, the sound I make when you find the right spot.” She nipped your earlobe, a sharp, sweet pain. “Can you do that for me?”
“Anything,” you vowed, your voice cracking.
“Good boy.”
She shifted, rolling off to lie beside you on the bed. She propped herself up on one elbow, facing you. With her free hand, she took your hand and guided it to the waistband of her panties. “Take these off me.”
Your fingers fumbled with the delicate fabric, but you managed to hook them into the lace and draw them down her legs. She lifted her hips to help you, and then she was finally, completely naked beside you.
You had seen her, but now you saw her. The elegant delta of dark, neatly trimmed hair. The full, plump outer lips, already glistening with a clear, pearly slickness. The puffy, darker pink inner lips, slightly parted and swollen with arousal. The scent of her, musky and sweet and utterly primal, washed over you. It was the most erotic thing you had ever witnessed.
“You’re staring again,” she said, but her voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard.
“You’re perfect.”
“Touch me.”
You reached out, your hand trembling. You let the back of your fingers trail lightly through the dark curls, then down over the smooth, hot skin of her mound. You cupped her, feeling the incredible heat and softness there. A soft, choked gasp escaped her lips. Emboldened, you let your fingertips drift lower, tracing the slick, swollen folds. They were drenched, your fingers coming away glistening.
“Sohyun…” you breathed, awestruck by the evidence of her desire.
“I know,” she whispered for the third time, and this time it was a confession. “It’s been a long time coming.”
You leaned in, drawn by her scent, by the visual feast of her. You kissed the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. The skin was incredibly soft. You placed another kiss higher up, then another, working your way inward in a slow, torturous pilgrimage. Her breath hitched, and her hand came down to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding on.
When your mouth was finally level with her core, you paused, breathing her in. You looked up the length of her body. She was watching you, her eyes dark pools of want, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
You lowered your head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her very center.
The taste was complex, salty and sweet and uniquely her. The sound she made was a sharp, surprised cry that melted into a long, trembling sigh. Her hips jerked off the bed, pushing herself more firmly against your mouth.
“Again,” she demanded, her voice shaking.
You obeyed, licking a slow, broad stripe from her opening all the way up to the swollen bud of her clit. Her entire body shuddered. You did it again, finding a rhythm, exploring her with your tongue. You lapped at her entrance, drinking in her taste, then focused on the tight, hard little nub above. You circled it, flicked it, sucked it gently into your mouth.
Her moans became a continuous, ragged melody. Her hold on your hair tightened, her thighs tensing around your head. “Right there… oh, fuck, yes, right there…” she chanted, her composure splintering.
You were lost in her, in the feel of her soft flesh yielding under your tongue, in the salty-sweet flood of her arousal, in the desperate, beautiful sounds she was making. You slid one hand under her thigh, hooking it over your shoulder to open her wider to you. You pushed your tongue deeper, exploring the hot, slick channel of her.
She was thrashing now, her back arching off the bed. “I’m close… don’t stop, please, please don’t stop…”
You doubled your efforts, focusing all your attention on her clit, sucking and licking with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. Her breathing became frantic, a series of sharp gasps. Her whole body went rigid, a bowstring pulled taut. A broken, sobbing cry tore from her throat, and her hips ground against your face as her climax ripped through her. The taste of her intensified, flooding your mouth as her inner muscles fluttered wildly against your tongue.
You held her through it, gentling your motions until the last tremor subsided. She went boneless against the mattress, her hand falling from your hair to splay across her stomach, which rose and fell rapidly. You lifted your head, your lips and chin wet with her. You kissed your way back up her body, over her trembling stomach, between her breasts, to her mouth.
She kissed you back hungrily, tasting herself on your lips. The kiss was deep, messy, and utterly raw.
When you finally broke apart, she was panting, her eyes glassy with spent pleasure. She looked utterly wrecked and more beautiful than ever.
“See?” she rasped, a trace of her old smile returning. “You’re a quick Learner”
She watched you taste her, her breath still coming in ragged gusts against your lips. Her eyes, half-lidded and heavy, held a dazed, triumphant satisfaction. You were both kneeling on the bed now, facing each other, the air thick with the scent of her release and your shared heat.
“A quick Learner,” she repeated, her voice a husky whisper. She reached out and traced your lips with her thumb, wiping away the wetness that belonged to her. “You taste like me.”
You nodded, your own breathing unsteady. The raw, primal flavor of her was still on your tongue, a testament to what had just happened. You’d made her come. With your mouth. The thought sent a fresh surge of possession through you, mixed with awe.
Her hand moved from your lips down your chest, her fingers skimming over your skin. She followed the trail of her touch with her eyes, a slow, deliberate inventory. “You’re still so hard,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to your cock, which stood rigid and flushed against your stomach. “All that attention on me, and you’re still aching.”
You swallowed. “I’m aching for you.”
“I know.” Her hand finally reached you, her fingers circling the base, not moving, just holding. The simple contact was an electric brand. “You asked for it. To feel me around you. To fuck me until we forget.” She leaned forward, her mouth close to yours again. “Is that still what you want?”
“Yes,” you breathed, the word a plea.
“Then give me your hands.”
You held them out, palms up. She took them and placed them on her hips, your fingers splayed over the smooth, warm skin. Her flesh was soft yet firm underneath, the muscle of her moving as she shifted her weight. “Hold me here. Guide me when I ask. But otherwise… let me lead.”
You nodded, your grip tightening instinctively.
She smiled, that knowing, dangerous curve of her lips. Then she moved. With a fluid grace, she swung one leg over yours, turning so she was straddling your lap. You were seated on the bed, and she was perched above you, knees bent, her body a poised, powerful silhouette against the morning-lit window.
The feeling of her thighs against yours, the heat of her core hovering just above your erection, was agonizingly close. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the damp evidence of her pleasure brushing against your stomach.
She placed her hands on your shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly. “Look at me,” she commanded, her voice dropping into a lower register, a tone that was pure authority. “Don’t close your eyes. Don’t look away. I want to see every second of this in your face.”
You looked up at her. Her hair was tousled, framing her face in wild, dark strands. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kissing. Her eyes were black pools of intent, focused entirely on you. She was in complete control, and the sight of it, the submission it demanded from you, sent a thrill of pure adrenaline through your veins.
Slowly, with deliberate, unhurried motion, she lowered herself.
The first contact was a brush, a teasing graze of her slick folds against the head of your cock. A shudder ripped through you, a convulsive jerk of your entire body. She smiled at your reaction, a predatory gleam in her eyes.
“Feel that?” she whispered. “That’s me. That’s how ready I am for you.”
She lifted herself slightly, then lowered again, this time letting her weight settle so that the swollen, plump lips of her vulva parted around your tip. The sensation was indescribable—hot, silken pressure, a velvet embrace that promised so much more. The clear, sticky slickness coating you was a tangible proof of her desire.
“Oh, god,” you moaned, your head falling back for a second before you forced it up again, obeying her command to watch.
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “Not god. Me.” She pressed down a fraction more, and the head of your cock began to sink into her. The entrance was incredibly tight, a ring of gripping, living flesh that resisted then yielded, stretching to accommodate you. The feeling of being enveloped, of that first inch of penetration, was a white-hot spike of pleasure so intense it blurred your vision.
She paused, holding you there, just that first, shallow intrusion. Her inner muscles fluttered around you, a series of tiny, involuntary contractions that made you gasp.
“You feel so big,” she breathed, her own composure fraying at the edges. A fine tremor ran through her thighs where they pressed against yours. “So fucking deep already.”
She began to move. Not a thrust, but a slow, circular roll of her hips. She ground herself against you, the motion making your cock slide fractionally deeper, then back, then deeper again. It was a torturous, exquisite tease. The swollen, puffy flesh of her inner lips rubbed against your shaft, the friction sending sparks up your spine. Her clit, that hard, sensitive nub, brushed against your stomach with each rotation.
Your hands on her hips trembled, wanting to pull her down, to bury yourself fully in that incredible heat. But you held back. You let her lead.
Her rhythm changed. The circles became a deliberate, downward pressure. She leaned forward, putting more weight on your shoulders, and sank onto you.
It was a slow, inexorable invasion. You felt every millimeter of your progress into her body. The tight channel hugged you, a hot, slick sleeve that stretched and molded itself to your shape. The sensation of fullness, of being so completely claimed, was overwhelming. You watched, mesmerized, as your cock disappeared into her, swallowed by her beautiful, glistening sex.
She took you all, until your entire length was buried inside her, until your hips met hers, until you were seated as deeply as possible. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as she settled onto you, her body accepting you fully. Her head dropped forward for a moment, her forehead resting against yours. Her breathing was hot and ragged in your ear.
“Fuck,” she whispered, the word a raw, surprised exhalation. “You’re all the way in. I can feel you… everywhere.”
She stayed like that, motionless, letting you both adjust to the feeling. The intimacy of it was profound. You were joined, locked together, her weight a delicious pressure on your lap. Her inner walls pulsed around you, a series of soft, rhythmic squeezes that felt like her body was milking you, pulling you deeper into her.
Then she lifted her head. Her eyes found yours again, and they were blazing with a fierce, uncontained fire. “Now,” she said, her voice guttural. “Now you fuck me.”
She rose up, pulling herself almost completely off you, leaving just the tip inside. The sensation of withdrawal was a sharp, aching loss. Then she slammed back down.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a hard, driving impact that forced you deeper than before, a collision of bodies that shook the bedframe. A sharp, punched-out cry escaped her lips. You groaned, the sound torn from somewhere deep in your chest. The feeling of her plunging onto you, of her tight, wet heat enveloping you with such force, was beyond anything you’d imagined.
She did it again. Up, then down, a hard, piston-like rhythm that was pure, unadulterated need. Her hips moved with a wild, untamed abandon, each descent a calculated, powerful drive. Her thighs flexed, the muscles working as she lifted and dropped herself onto you. The sound of skin meeting skin, of her soft flesh absorbing the impact of your body, filled the room—a wet, rhythmic slap that was the soundtrack to your ruin.
You tried to hold her, to guide her as she’d asked, but your hands were mostly anchors, gripping her hips as she used you. You were a tool for her pleasure, a fixed point for her to ride. And you loved it. The surrender was intoxicating.
Her face was a study in focused ecstasy. Her lips were parted, her teeth occasionally clenched as a particularly deep stroke hit a new depth. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, but they were unfocused now, glazed with the intensity of sensation. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, on her chest. A strand of hair stuck to her damp cheek.
“Harder,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Don’t just take it… fuck me back. Meet me.”
You obeyed. As she rose, you thrust upwards, driving into her from below. The coordination was clumsy at first, then it synced. Your upward drive met her downward plunge, creating a devastating, double-impact that made her cry out, a sharp, high sound.
The pace became frantic, a savage dance. She rode you with a frenetic energy, her hips rolling, grinding, pumping. She would occasionally change the angle, leaning back to take you deeper, or leaning forward to rub her clit against you with each stroke. Every variation brought a new wave of sensation.
You could feel everything. The textured, ridged walls of her vagina gripping and releasing you. The swollen, tender flesh of her entrance stretching around your thickness each time she took you. The hot flood of her juices, making every movement slick and effortless. The hard nub of her clit bumping against your pelvic bone, sending shocks through her entire body.
“Yes… right there… fuck, yes!” she shouted, her composure shattered. Her words were a ragged, desperate stream. “You’re so deep… you’re hitting… you’re hitting something… oh!”
Her inner muscles clenched around you, a sudden, vice-like grip that stole your breath. You saw her eyes widen, her mouth open in a silent scream. She was finding a spot, a place inside her that triggered something profound.
You focused your thrusts, aiming for that depth, using the leverage of your hands on her hips to drive into her at the perfect angle. Each time you found it, her body would convulse, a full-body shudder that made her breasts bounce wildly, the soft flesh jolting with the force of your fucking.
You watched them, mesmerized. The sight of her nipples, dark and hard, bouncing in time with your joined rhythm was obscenely beautiful. Sweat traced the valley between her breasts, glistening in the light.
The room filled with the sounds of your sex: the wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies, the choked, desperate gasps of her breathing, your own ragged groans, the creak of the bed under the assault. The air grew thick and humid, smelling of sex, of sweat, of her.
One of her hands left your shoulder and snaked between her own legs. You watched, spellbound, as her fingers found her clit, rubbing it in frantic circles as you fucked her. The added stimulation made her movements become even more wild, her hips bucking against you in an erratic, desperate rhythm.
“I’m… I’m gonna…” she panted, her words disjointed. “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop… make me come… make me come on your cock…”
Her demand ignited something primal in you. You surged upwards, fucking her with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. Your thrusts became harder, faster, a relentless pounding that pushed her body up each time she came down. The force made her whole body jolt, her head tossing back, her hair flying.
Her fingers worked furiously at her clit, her other hand gripping your shoulder like a lifeline. Her face was a mask of pure, unthinking pleasure—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a continuous, silent cry.
The tension in her body was palpable, a coiling, tightening spring. Her inner walls began to flutter around you again, but this time it was a rapid, frantic pulsation, a precursor to the storm.
“Now… now!” she screamed, the word tearing from her throat.
Her body locked. Every muscle seized, from her thighs clamping around yours to her back arching into a painful curve. Her hand fell away from her clit, her arm going rigid. A guttural, drawn-out groan erupted from her, a sound of pure, unadulterated release.
And then she came.
You felt it. A series of violent, rhythmic contractions deep inside her, gripping your cock in a tight, milking squeeze that pulled at you from root to tip. Her juices flowed around you, a hot, sudden gush that made the slide even slicker. Her hips ground against you in a final, desperate rotation, her clit rubbing hard against you as the climax peaked.
You watched her face. It was transformed. Ecstasy, pain, surrender—all twisted into a single, breathtaking expression. Her eyes rolled back, her lips trembled. She was utterly gone, lost in the sensation you were giving her.
The contractions continued, waves of them, each one making her jerk and moan. You held her, keeping her seated deeply on you, letting her ride the waves of her orgasm on your cock. The feeling of her climaxing around you, inside you, was the most powerful thing you’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just physical; it was a claim, a possession. You were the instrument of her pleasure, and you were buried in the very center of it.
Slowly, the violent pulses subsided, softening into gentle, aftershock flutters. Her body slumped forward, collapsing against your chest, her weight heavy and boneless. She buried her face in your shoulder, her hot, panting breath scalding your skin. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as if you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
You held her, your own body trembling with the effort of holding back. You were achingly close, the pressure built to a critical peak, but you waited. You let her come down.
After a long minute, she stirred. She lifted her head, her face flushed and damp with sweat and tears. She looked at you, her eyes soft and hazy.
“You didn’t…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “You held back.”
“You told me to let you lead,” you said, your own voice rough.
A slow, exhausted smile spread across her face. “Good boy.” She shifted, lifting herself off you slightly. The feeling of withdrawal was a sweet, painful emptiness. “But now…” She leaned in, her lips brushing yours. “Now it’s your turn.”
She didn’t move off you completely. Instead, she settled back onto your lap, your cock still buried inside her, but she changed the rhythm. Gone was the wild, frantic pumping. Now, she began a slow, deep grind. She rocked her hips back and forth, a sensual, rolling motion that made your entire length slide within her, a continuous, maddening friction.
She reached up and cupped your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. “Look at me,” she said again, but the command was softer now, an invitation. “Let me see you lose it.”
The slow grind was unbearable. Each movement dragged your sensitive flesh against her swollen, tender walls. The aftershocks of her orgasm still trembled through her, creating tiny, extra pulses of sensation. The heat was incredible, a wet, clinging warmth that seemed to draw you deeper.
You couldn’t hold back. The control you’d clung to shattered.
Your hips began to move, matching her grind with your own thrusts. They were shallow at first, then deeper, driven by a need that was now a roaring fire in your blood. You fucked her upward into her slow, downward rolls, creating a new, synergistic rhythm.
“That’s it,” she coaxed, her voice a husky whisper against your mouth. “Give it to me. Let me feel you… let me feel you come inside me.”
Her words were the final trigger. The dam broke.
A deep, groaning sound started in your chest and erupted from your lips. Your thrusts became frantic, uncontrollable. You were slamming into her now, a hard, fast, pounding rhythm that shook both of you. She held you tight, her arms around your neck, her body accepting every violent drive.
The pleasure coiled, tightened, then exploded.
Your climax wasn’t a slow build; it was a detonation. A white-hot wave surged up your spine and burst through you. You cried out, a raw, broken sound, as your body locked. Your hips drove up into her one final, deep time, burying yourself as far as possible, and then you were coming.
The release was torrential. You felt the surge from deep within your balls, a hot, rushing flood that poured up your shaft and into her. The feeling of ejaculating inside her, of filling her with your climax, was profoundly possessive, profoundly intimate. Each pulse of release was a shuddering, full-body convulsion that made you grunt and gasp.
She moaned, a low, satisfied sound, as she felt it. Her inner muscles tightened around you, squeezing, milking you, drawing out every last drop. “Yes… fuck… I can feel it… so hot…” she whispered, her own body trembling with the sensation.
You held her through it, your arms wrapped around her, your face buried in her hair. The world dissolved into sensation—the hot, wet clasp of her body, the incredible softness of her skin against yours, the pounding of your heart, the slowing pulse of your release.
Finally, the last tremor passed. You went limp, your body spent, your mind blank. You were both panting, sweat-slicked, tangled together on the bed.
Slowly, carefully, she lifted herself off you. Your cock, now slick with both your fluids, slid out of her with a soft, wet sound. The emptiness was acute, a physical loss. You watched, dazed, as a trickle of your release mixed with hers seeped from her, a tangible proof of what you’d just shared.
She collapsed beside you on the bed, her body sprawling across the sheets. She turned her head to look at you. Her expression was soft, open, utterly unguarded.
“Wow,” she breathed, a simple, exhausted statement.
You couldn’t speak. You just reached for her hand, finding it on the sheet, and laced your fingers with hers. Her grip was weak but sure.
You lay there for long minutes, the only sound your slowing breaths and the distant city outside. The sun had climbed higher, painting the room in bright, clear light. The ordinary world was returning, but it felt different now. Everything felt different.
She shifted, rolling onto her side to face you more fully. Her free hand came up to trace the line of your jaw, your cheekbone. “So,” she said, her voice regaining a trace of its usual melodic timbre, though it was still rough-edged. “That was… educational.”
You managed a weak smile. “For me, too.”
“I meant what I said in the kitchen,” she continued, her eyes serious now. “No shadows. No hiding.” She paused, her thumb stroking your lip. “This… this is what it looks like in the light. It’s messy. It’s intense. It’s fucking real.” She let out a slow breath. “Can you handle that?”
A/n: Hello it’s been a while! This story had been in the making for quite a while. I’m still having troubles with writing good dialogue but I think I got this one nailed (still working on it tho). Anyways, please enjoy the fic. Thanks!!
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Sleep comes as a luxury for a guy like me nowadays. Most nights, I'm swamped, catching up on readings about a new shark fossil discovery in the Grand Canyon, or doomscrolling on my phone until the sun creeps through my blinds. Some nights, I'm just laying there, spiraling about a job hunt that feels like it's never going to pan out. And on the rare nights when sleep does come, it's only for a couple of hours. I can't afford any more absences in my courses.
Today's different, though. I'm finally getting some sunlight because I have a lecture to attend about a dinosaur fossil discovered fifty years ago. A part of me really didn't want to go, but my roommate pointed out that being trapped in my room for weeks was probably doing more harm than good. Plus, there's an extra credit opportunity, literally just my signature on the attendance list, and extra credit is guaranteed. So, here I am.
On my way there, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend, Nakyoung: "On your way to the auditorium?" I replied with a simple "Yes," and not a minute later, she answered back: "Ok, see you at the campus." I rubbed the side of my head, pocketed my phone, and moseyed on toward the university.
The bright blue gates of our school were already in sight when a familiar voice called out, "Hey, Younghyu—" and as soon as I turned toward it, "OMG! What happened to you?" It was Nakyoung, her eyes wide with shock. I guess my sleepless state was more obvious than I thought.
"Nice to see you too, Naky," I huffed.
She walked closer, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. "Are you okay?" she asked, grabbing my face and tilting it side to side to get a better look.
"Do I look like I'm okay?" I mumbled as she manhandled my face, inspecting every unwanted blemish and dark circle. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in almost two weeks."
Being the studious, type-A person she is, Nakyoung is always prepared. She let go of my face and started digging through her purse, finally fishing out a box of pimple patches. "At least cover up your 'new friends,'" she teased, handing me the box. She pulled me toward a nearby bench and started applying them for me, trying to make me look at least half-presentable, even if I ended up looking like a sticker book.
When she was done, we made our way to the auditorium. We were a few minutes late, and the professor was already stepping up to the podium when we slipped in. They didn't seem to mind, so we found a couple of empty seats near the back, pulled out our laptops, and settled in to take notes on anything that might show up during exams week.
The professor launched into a lecture about the discovery of the Maiasaura and how it proved maternal instincts in dinosaurs—something researchers previously thought didn't exist, since they assumed dinosaurs were solitary creatures. It should have been fascinating. It was fascinating. But as the professor droned on, their voice started to fade, becoming muffled, like I was listening from underwater. My breathing grew heavy, and my eyelids felt like they were made of lead. I fought to stay focused, but it was a losing battle. Soon enough, I gave in. My head dropped, the professor's voice melted into a low hum, and darkness took over. Sleep had finally consumed me.
Then she appeared.
Everything was hazy, but I could clearly make out a figure looking directly at me. A woman. The first thing I noticed was her warm smile—the kind that could light up an entire city. Then, her beauty marks, perfectly placed under her eyes, on the bridge of her nose, and on her left cheek, as if a celestial being had carefully mapped them to help her guide wayward travelers like me. But what truly captivated me were her eyes: dark, dreamy, warm, and calming, yet with a hint of mischief. They felt like a gentle ray of sun breaking through a cold, barren field.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my side. I didn't know what it was at first, and it persisted, but the beautiful woman in front of me was enough of a distraction that I barely noticed. But the pain kept coming, sharper each time, until it became unbearable. Then, fluorescent lights flooded my vision, and reality came crashing back. I was in the auditorium. The shooting pain in my side? Nakyoung, pinching me, trying to wake me up.
"Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?" I whispered angrily, my head still groggy from the remnants of the dream.
"What do you mean, 'what's wrong with me'? You literally slept through the entire lecture!" Nakyoung scolded, her voice low but sharp.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around. The lights were on. The room was nearly empty, and the professor was packing up at the front.
"Wait, it's over?" I asked, dazed.
"Yes! And. You. Slept. Through. It!" She punctuated each word with another pinch to my side.
"Ow, okay, okay! Stop!" I stood up, rubbing the sore spot.
"Now come on," she said, the tone of the lecture–lingering in her voice. "It's almost noon. Let's go get lunch."
The walk from the auditorium was uneventful—Nakyoung and I fell into our usual rhythm of conversation. But as we walked, my mind kept circling back to the woman in my dream. Her dark eyes, like black holes pulling me in. The way they seemed to both drown me and let me breathe at the same time. Her star-like beauty marks lingered behind my eyelids, and I couldn't shake them.
Then my vision blurred. Everything started spinning. I ignored it at first, but it only got worse. Finally, I called out, "Hey, Naky." I rubbed the side of my head as we passed through the university gates. "I think I'm gonna skip lunch. I really need to crash."
Concern flashed across her face, and she pulled me aside. "Are you sure you're okay? It's not like you to skip a meal."
I huffed, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll be fine. I just really need sleep."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright. But text or call me if you need anything, or if something happens, okay?"
I nodded and pulled her into a quick, friendly hug. She hugged me back, and we said our goodbyes.
The walk back to my apartment was quiet, and I was grateful for it. People I knew gave polite nods or soft waves, and I returned them in kind. But the lack of sleep was catching up fast. My eyes were watery and sore, my steps sluggish, my breathing heavy. And then something strange happened.
As I struggled to lift my feet off the ground, a familiar figure stood out among the handful of people passing by. When I glanced over, I saw those eyes again—the woman from my dreams, standing right there on the sidewalk. I froze, rubbed my eyes, and when I looked again, she was gone. A jolt of panic shot through me, and suddenly I was wide awake. "Okay," I muttered to myself, picking up my pace. "I definitely need more sleep."
The rest of the walk passed in a blur. Every step was fueled by a mix of purpose and unease. Finally, the faded blue paint of my apartment complex came into view, and relief washed over me.
As soon as I opened the front door, I heard the faint sound of a drama playing in the living room. "Hey, you're home early," my roommate Giselle called out. "Did class end early or something?"
"No, just dead tired," I mumbled, kicking off my shoes.
She paused the TV and padded over to the doorway, her face scrunching with concern. "Whoa. I know school's been hectic, but not this hectic. Seriously, are you good, bro?"
I managed a weak nod and a small smile before heading to my room. When I opened the door, my bed welcomed me like an oasis in the desert. I collapsed onto it, letting the comfort of my pillow and sheets pull me under.
This time, the dream was different. Still hazy, but clearer than before. Tangible. Like I had some control over everything—except for her.
It was a sunny afternoon in a park. Birds sang, children laughed, and the sun's warmth hit just right. I was sitting alone on a bench under a big oak tree when she appeared. She wore a sundress paired with a cardigan, a purse hanging from her shoulder, and she was carrying two cups of 자몽에이드(Grapefruit Juice). She was sunshine personified.
She approached my bench and asked if she could join me. I agreed immediately. She set the drinks down between us, condensation pooling on the wood, and pulled out her phone. Watching her up close, I noticed that rare quality about her—the way she made life look easy. She smiled as she scrolled, until her screen lit up with a notification. Her face went blank, like someone had flipped a switch and plunged the room into darkness.
I decided to break the ice.
"So," I said, nodding at the drinks, "do you often drink two grapefruitades at the same time?"
She glanced at me, then at the cups, and let out a huffed laugh, a little embarrassed. "Oh, no. Turns out my date would rather block my number than drink these with me."
My stomach dropped. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. If I'd known, I would've—"
She waved her hands, cutting me off. "No, no, it's fine. Really."
A beat of awkward silence passed. I thought that was it, but then—
"Do you want the other one?" She held out the cup, her finger leaving a faint smudge on the frosty plastic. When I hesitated, she tilted her head. "Come on. It's way too sweet for one person anyway."
I was caught off guard, but when I looked at her, she was already smiling—not the kind that lights up a room, but the kind that creases the corners of her eyes. The kind that says she knows something about the world, and it's not all bad.
"Thanks." Our fingers brushed as I took the cup, and for a second, the ice between us melted.
"Guess I'm your rebound date now," I said, immediately wanting to punch myself.
But she laughed. "I guess you are."
We laughed together, the sound mingling with the birdsong.
"I'm Younghyun, by the way." I reached out my hand.
She looked at it, then took it. "S—un!"
I frowned. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
"It's S—un!" she repeated, but her voice came out warbled, distorted.
Then everything started to fizzle. The trees, the grass, the people—all dissolving. She remained, but a void was consuming the park, swallowing everything into darkness.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, I was awake.
I was back in my room, staring at the ceiling, the remnants of the dream already slipping away. I dragged a hand down my face, scrubbing away the clinging traces of sleep. Fumbling around on my messy sheets, I found my phone under my pillow and checked the time. I slept for twelve hours. Skipped lunch and dinner.
I decided to call Nakyoung, partly to make up for bailing on her earlier. I scrolled through my contacts and found her number. The phone rang for a while, but she didn't pick up. It was past midnight—she was probably asleep.
I got out of bed and decided to head to the convenience store down the street. Maybe some ramyeon and microwaved kimbap would hit the spot. As I padded through the apartment, I saw Giselle asleep on the couch, her phone still in her hand, looping the same short video over and over. I gently took the phone, turned it off, and draped a blanket over her before heading out.
The streets were quiet at this hour. The walk was peaceful, the cold night air a relief after being cooped up for so long.
The bright lights of the convenience store were already in sight, but something else caught my attention: steam rising from a small tteokbokki stand on the sidewalk. The scent triggered an immediate growl from my stomach. Fresh, piping hot tteokbokki sounded way better than microwaved food. I glanced at the store and noticed they also sold 마약김밥 and ice-cold grapefruitade. Perfect.
As I approached the stand, a sweet old lady greeted me with a warm smile. "Oh, young man! Good evening. What can I get for you?"
"Good evening, Halmeoni!" I said, matching her energy. "Can I have one tteokbokki and five kimbaps, please?"
She got right to work, scooping a generous portion of tteokbokki onto a plate and arranging the kimbaps neatly. "Enjoy!" she said, sliding the plate toward me.
"네, 잘 먹겠습니다.(Yes, I will eat well.)"
I was about to take my first bite when I heard footsteps approaching the stand, accompanied by a voice that sounded strangely familiar. "Halmeoni! One tteokbokki and three kimbaps, please!"
I turned to look, and my body froze.
It was her. The girl from my dreams.
My chopsticks slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the tray.
"Oh? Sohyun-ah!" the old lady said, her face lighting up. "It's so late! I thought you already had dinner?"
While they chatted, I sat there, stunned. Am I still asleep? No. I definitely woke up.
Sohyun's voice pulled me out of my daze as she pointed at my fallen chopsticks. "Hey, I think you dropped these."
I looked down, embarrassed, but before I could reach for them, Halmeoni handed me a fresh pair with a knowing smile.
I took a bite of my food, trying to compose myself. Sohyun sat down beside me and, to my surprise, tried to start a conversation.
"You're not a regular here, are you?" she asked.
My mouth full of tteokbokki, I could only manage a derpy, "Huh?"
She let out a breathy laugh and repeated herself.
I swallowed quickly. "No, actually. I didn't even know this place existed."
"Yeah, not many people do," she said, nodding. "It's either too late at night, or they just go for the convenience store food."
I nodded and kept eating, the silence between us a little awkward. But she broke it easily.
"I'm Sohyun, by the way." She extended her hand.
I stared at it for a second, then shook it. "Younghyun."
"So, what brings you here tonight, Younghyun?" she asked, chewing thoughtfully.
I gestured vaguely with my chopsticks. "This was one of the only places open this late. It was either this or pre-packaged food."
She hummed in understanding, popping a piece of kimbap into her mouth. We ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds were the gentle bubbling of the tteokbokki and the distant hum of a streetlight.
But I couldn't shake the feeling. The way she tilted her head when she chewed. The way her beauty marks caught the faint glow from the stand's hanging lamp. It was her. Exactly her.
Finally, curiosity burned through me. "This is going to sound insane," I blurted out, "but have we… met before?"
Sohyun glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "I don't think so, no."
"No, I mean—" I hesitated, already feeling ridiculous. "I've seen you. In my dreams. Like, multiple times."
I expected her to laugh, or edge away, or maybe flag down Halmeoni for help. Instead, she went completely still. Her chopsticks hovered mid-air, a piece of tteokbokki dripping red sauce back onto her plate.
"What did you say?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"I know how it sounds," I said quickly, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's just—there was this park. A sunny afternoon. You were wearing a sundress and a cardigan, carrying two grapefruitades. You sat next to me on a bench because your date stood you up."
The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a deep blush, then she whispered. "On the bench. Under the oak tree."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Yeah, how did you know that?"
"I thought it was just a dream, a really vivid one." she said, setting her chopsticks down. “You even made a joke about being my rebound date."
"I still cringe thinking about it," I admitted with a wince.
A shaky laugh escaped her. "No, It was funny. And then—" She paused, her brow furrowing. "Everything started to fade. Like static on a TV. And I couldn't tell you my name properly."
"It came out all warbled," I finished. We stared at each other, the weight of the realization settling between us like a living thing.
"This is…" Sohyun trailed off, shaking her head. "This isn't normal, right? Two people having the same dream?"
"It shouldn’t be," I admitted. "But I've been thinking about it and you all day. Your eyes, your smile, the way you looked at me like you knew something about the world that wasn't all bad. I couldn't shake it."
Her lips parted slightly, her dark eyes, those eyes, searching mine. "I couldn't either," she confessed quietly. "I woke up and felt like I'd lost something. Someone. And I didn't even know your name."
The night air felt charged, electric. Halmeoni busied herself with wiping down the counter, pretending very hard not to listen, though the occasional glance she threw our way suggested she was thoroughly invested in this late-night drama.
I took a breath. Then another. My heart was hammering so loud I was half-convinced she could hear it. I set my chopsticks down carefully, lining them up neatly on the edge of my plate, a pointless gesture, but it gave my hands something to do.
Sohyun watched me, her dark eyes unreadable but warm, that tiny smile still playing at the corner of her lips. Up close, under the warm glow of the stand's hanging lamp, I could see every detail I'd only glimpsed in my dreams: the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks, the faint shimmer of lip balm, the beauty mark on her left cheek that I'd wanted to reach out and touch since the moment I saw her.
Say something, you idiot.
"Sohyun," I started, then immediately forgot every word I'd ever known. My mouth felt dry. I grabbed my grapefruitade and took a long sip, the cold sweetness doing nothing to calm my nerves.
She tilted her head, amused. "Yes?"
"I know we literally just met," I began again, setting the drink down carefully so she wouldn't see how my hand was shaking. "Like, actually met, not dream-met. And I know this is probably the most insane thing that's ever happened to you—to either of us, really. Two strangers having the same dream? That's not something that happens in real life. That's something that happens in dramas, or in those webtoons my roommate is always reading where the characters are secretly soulmates or whatever."
I was rambling. I knew I was rambling. But I couldn't stop.
"And maybe this is just some weird coincidence. Maybe we both drank too much Grapefruit juice and had weird dreams and our brains just happened to make up the same person. That's possible, right? That's a thing that can happen?"
Sohyun's smile widened, but she stayed quiet, letting me dig my own grave.
"But what if it's not?" The words tumbled out faster now. "What if there's actually something here? Because I've been thinking about you all day and I didn't even know your name until five minutes ago. I walked home from campus looking for you. I literally thought I saw you on the street and I rubbed my eyes so hard I almost gave myself a headache. And when I woke up from that second dream, I felt—" I stopped, struggling to find the right word. "Empty. Like something was missing. Like you were missing."
The admission hung in the air between us. Sohyun's expression shifted, the playful amusement softening into something deeper, more vulnerable.
I swallowed hard. "So I'm just going to say this before I lose what's left of my nerve."
I turned on my stool to face her fully, my knee almost bumping hers under the narrow counter. The world around us, the convenience store, the empty street, Halmeoni pretending to rearrange her sauce bottles—all of it faded into background noise.
"Sohyun, would you want to go on a date with me? A real one." I gestured vaguely between us. "Not in a dream. Not in a park that might dissolve into static the second I try to look at you or whatever. But here. In the real world. Where I can actually talk to you and you can actually answer back."
A breathless laugh escaped her, and the sound made my chest ache in the best way.
"I know this is fast," I continued, lowering my hand. "I know we're basically strangers who accidentally shared a brainwave or whatever the hell just happened. But I also know that when I woke up from that first dream, I felt like I'd lost someone I'd known my whole life. And when I saw you standing here tonight, I felt like—" I pressed a hand to my chest, right over my heart. "Like something clicked into place. Like my body knew you before my brain caught up."
I looked down at my plate, suddenly embarrassed by my own honesty. "And I just yapped and you probably think I'm crazy."
For a long, agonizing moment, she didn't respond. I could feel her gaze on me, studying my face like she was searching for something. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant hum of the streetlight and the soft bubbling of the tteokbokki.
Then I felt her hand cover mine on the counter.
I looked up.
Her eyes,those eyes, dark and warm and full of that familiar mischief—were glistening. Not with tears, exactly, but with something close. Something tender.
"Younghyun," she said softly, and the way my name sounded in her voice made my heart stutter. "When I woke up from that dream this afternoon, I cried."
The confession hit me like a wave.
"I didn't understand why," she continued, her thumb tracing a slow circle on the back of my hand. "But I woke up, and my cheeks were wet, and I just lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling like someone had reached into my chest and taken something important."
She let out a shaky breath. "I tried to forget about it. I told myself it was just a dream, just my brain being weird. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. Sitting on that bench. Making that stupid joke about being my rebound date. Looking at me like I was—" She paused, her voice catching. "Like I was someone worth looking at."
My throat tightened.
"And then Halmeoni texted me," she said, a watery laugh escaping her. "She said she was staying late to clean the stand and asked if I wanted free dinner because she made too much food. I almost said no. I was tired, I had homework, it didn't make sense to walk all the way here at midnight. But something—" She pressed her free hand to her chest, mirroring my gesture from earlier. "Something told me to come."
She squeezed my hand. "And now you're here. Sitting next to me. Telling me you dreamed of me too. Telling me you felt empty without me." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "How is that possible, Younghyun? How is any of this possible?"
I shook my head slowly. "I don't know. But I don't think I care."
She laughed again, softer this time, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. Before I could think about it, my free hand lifted, and I caught it with my thumb, wiping it away gently. Her skin was warm, soft. She leaned slightly into my touch, just for a second, and the gesture felt more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced.
"Sohyun," I whispered. "Go on a date with me."
She turned her head, leaning towards the warmth of my palm before pulling back. The action was so impossibly tender, that I forgot how to breathe.
"Yes," she said, and the word was firm, certain, even as her eyes shimmered. "Yes, Younghyun. I'll go on a date with you."
"Yeah?" My voice cracked embarrassingly.
"Yeah." She smiled, that smile, the one that creased the corners of her eyes, the one that said she knew something about the world and it wasn't all bad. "But you're buying grapefruitade this time. The ones in the fancy cafes."
A laugh burst out of me, loud and unguarded, and she joined in, our laughter mingling in the cool night air like it belonged together. Like it had always belonged together.
From behind the counter, Halmeoni let out a satisfied "Aigoo," and I swear I saw her wipe her eye with the corner of her apron.
Sohyun and I looked at each other, her hands still on mine across the narrow counter, and I realized that for the first time in weeks I didn't feel tired. I didn't feel empty. I didn't feel like I was just barely surviving.
I felt awake.
"Saturday?" I asked. "There's this little café near Hongdae that does amazing egg tarts. And after, if you want, we could walk along the stream.”
“Oh my god, I love egg tarts!” She nodded quickly, still smiling. "Yes, Saturday sounds perfect."
"Great, you’re gonna enjoy the place then. But now that we have that, can I please get your number? The real one, I mean. Not the dream version where it's just a jumble of numbers that don't actually work."
She laughed and pulled out her phone. We exchanged numbers, the simple act feeling monumental, and I saved her contact with a photo I took right there—her mid-laugh, head tilted back, beauty marks on full display.
She also took a photo of me while saving her contact on my phone. "This is going to be my contact photo for you."
"What am I going to be saved as?" I asked.
She glanced at her phone when it buzzed, then looked up at me with that mischievous glint in her eyes. "Dream Boy."
I groaned. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." She typed something, and my phone buzzed. I looked down.
"Dream Girl"
I stared at the screen, then at her, then back at the screen. She was watching me, clearly delighted by my reaction.
"See? Even you did it!" She teased.
"That's—" I started.
"That’s what, perfect?" She further teased.
“Yes. Yes it is perfect!” I retaliated.
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and she ducked her head, hiding her smile behind her hand. The gesture was so shy, so different from the confident way she'd teased me moments before, that I felt my heart squeeze all over again.
Halmeoni chose that moment to reappear, sliding two small cups of complimentary kimbap toward us. "On the house," she announced, beaming. "For the happy couple."
"We're not a couple yet," Sohyun protested weakly.
"Yet," Halmeoni repeated, winking at me. "Young man, don't mess this up."
"Yes halmeoni," I said, and I meant it with my whole chest. "I won’t."
Sohyun looked at me, really looked at me, and in her eyes I saw the same thing I felt: wonder, hope, and the faintest trace of fear, the kind that comes with finding something precious and being terrified of losing it.
We ate our meals in comfortable silence, shoulders almost touching, the night stretching endlessly ahead of us. And when we finally said goodbye an hour later, after exchanging numbers, social media handles, birth dates, favorite colors, and a dozen other small details that made her feel more real than any dream ever could, she hugged me.
Not a friendly hug, not a polite hug. A real one. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her head tucked under my chin, and she fit there like she'd been made for it.
"Saturday," she murmured against my chest.
"Saturday," I promised, leaning my chin on the top of her head.
Walking home, I caught myself smiling like an idiot. My phone buzzed.
Dream Girl: Just so you know, if this turns out to be another dream and I wake up alone tomorrow, I'm going to find you in real life and yell at you.
Me: It's not a dream. I promise.
Dream Girl: How do you know?
I stopped walking, looking up at the stars scattered across the night sky. For the first time in weeks, I felt rested. I felt present. I felt like the version of myself I'd been before the sleepless nights and the endless doomscrolling and the quiet despair of a job hunt that went nowhere.
Me: Because in my dreams, I always wake up before the good part. And right now? This feels like just the beginning.
Her reply came instantly.
Dream Girl: ❤️
Dream Girl: Saturday can't come soon enough.
I pocketed my phone, still grinning, and walked the rest of the way home under a canopy of stars, already counting the hours until I'd see her again.
