submissive loser goon hoon....🔞
The only sound echoing in the shared apartment is the faint buzz of your phone on the kitchen counter and the soft, rhythmic panting filtering through the crack of Sunghoon’s door.
You were just getting water. Just water.
And yet here you are.
Frozen. In the hallway. Barefoot in his oversized shirt because laundry day got delayed, staring at the way his door is just barely ajar.
You should’ve walked past. You should’ve respected boundaries.
But the whimper that escapes from inside?
You blink. Slowly.
“Fuck—oh my god,” his voice stutters, low and raspy. “F-fuck, Y/N…”
Your name.
Your. Name.
You inhale sharply, but it doesn’t help—your thighs press together instinctively, and your fingers curl against the cold glass of the water you were holding like it’ll ground you. But it won’t. Not with the image now forming behind your eyelids. Sunghoon. One hand gripping his phone, the other likely between his legs. Probably leaking and messy and looking so desperate it’d be laughable if you weren’t imagining pressing your foot against his chest while he begged.
It’s not the first time you’ve suspected something. He’s always too nervous around you. Always lingering in your laundry loads. Always stuttering when you wear those old shorts. You’d catch him sneaking glances, acting like you were some goddess and he was just your awkward little servant.
But this? Hearing him moan your name while gooning out alone in his room?
You should walk away.
You don’t.
You push the door open instead.
His eyes snap up in a panic, his phone slipping from his hand mid-stroke. He’s a wreck— sweats pulled all the way down only wearing a shirt on , flushed skin glowing in the dim glow of his laptop screen. And of course, your Twitter page is open. One of your thirst traps playing on loop. Low volume, but not low enough to hide.
“Y/N—!” he gasps, scrambling, trying to cover himself but making it worse because he’s still so obviously hard, cock twitching as if it knows you’re watching.
You blink slowly, leaning against the frame. “You forgot to lock your door.”
His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. His face burns red. He’s petrified.
“Or maybe you didn’t want to.” You step forward. “Maybe you wanted me to see you like this. All fucked out over nothing. Over me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless little sound, hand still halfway frozen between covering himself and not wanting to lose the contact.
“You really are such a loser, Hoon,” you coo. “Jerking off to my videos? In our apartment?”
He nods.
He fucking nods.
“I can’t help it,” he rasps, barely audible. “You always look so—fuck, I didn’t mean for you to hear—I just—I was gonna clean up, I swear—”
You reach out and curl your fingers under his jaw, forcing him to look up.
“You really want to come for me that bad?” you whisper. “Then keep your hands off yourself. And let me watch you fall apart properly.”
The way he whines at that, eyes fluttering, cock throbbing untouched?
Yeah.
Your loser gooner roommate’s never going to recover from this.
You haven’t even said another word before Sunghoon’s already halfway falling apart again.
He’s still trembling — half-naked, sitting pathetically at the edge of his bed like a dog caught misbehaving. Your phone is in his lap, your video still playing, but his eyes won’t leave you now. Like you're the real thing. Like you’re his goddess incarnate.
You slide closer, push his laptop off the bed without a care, and straddle his thigh. You feel him tense — his hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he’s too scared to move.
“You’re such a mess,” you whisper, tilting his chin up. “Wanna be useful for once, baby boy?”
His throat bobs. “Y-Yes. Anything.”
“Good.” You lean in, breath hot in his ear. “Then get on your knees.”
He drops so fast you almost laugh. Not even a second of hesitation. He’s already settling between your legs as you recline back on his bed, spreading them slowly, letting him see the wet patch soaking through your panties.
His eyes widen. Lips part.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I made you wet?”
“You’ve been making me wet,” you admit, tugging his hair. “You’re just too much of a clueless little loser to do anything about it. Always walking around with that hard-on, thinking I didn’t notice?”
He whimpers. Literally whimpers.
But you don’t wait for him to get shy. You hook your thumbs under your panties and pull them to the side, baring yourself right in front of his face.
“Go ahead,” you purr. “Use that mouth. Let me see if you’re good for more than just jerking off to my voice.”
Sunghoon dives in like he’s been starved.
And god — he’s so eager. All tongue, all sloppiness, mouthing at you with zero rhythm but so much heart. You almost laugh again when he moans into you like your pussy is the holy grail. And honestly? The way your hips twitch? Maybe it is.
“God, you’re obsessed,” you groan, grinding against his mouth. “Do you even know what you’re doing or are you just that fucking desperate?”
But Sunghoon doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets worse — hungrier, messier, hands grabbing at your thighs like you’ll float away if he lets go. He’s making the kind of sounds you should be making. Like he’s the one getting off from this.
He probably is.
When you glance down, he’s rutting his hips into the bed, fully hard again, untouched. You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his head back, slick coating his lips, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.
“Look at you,” you smirk. “Fucking gone.”
“I can’t stop,” he pants. “You taste so—fuck, please let me finish. I can make you cum, I swear—”
“Oh? You think you earned it?”
He nods wildly, tongue flicking out as if he's hoping you'll drag him back in.
So you do.
And this time, he figures it out — tongue flattening just right, sucking at your clit like he’s trying to memorize it. When you moan and grab the back of his head tighter, he whines into you, bucking against the bed like he’s close just from this.
“God—Sunghoon—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. Can’t.
You cum on his face with a sharp gasp, legs trembling around his ears, and he just stays there — moaning, still licking, worshipping like your pleasure is the only thing he exists for.
And when your hips twitch from overstimulation and you finally tug him off with a shaky breath, he looks up at you like he’s been reborn. Panting. Rock hard. Flushed and so stupidly in love with you it hurts.
“You came, right?” he says breathlessly. “Was I… Did I do good?”
You pause, eyeing the mess between his legs, your slick still on his lips.
Then you smile.
“Better than your hand, loser.”
You haven’t even caught your breath yet.
Your thighs are still trembling, still sensitive, and Sunghoon’s face is still between them, lips swollen, chin soaked. His eyes are dazed and glassy — drunk off your taste, off the sounds you made, off the fact that he was the one to pull those sounds out of you.
He looks like he’s floating.
You tug him up by the collar of his shirt — the only thing he’s still wearing — and he comes willingly, breath ragged, eyes wide.
You kiss him.
You shouldn’t. It’s too much. It blurs the line between filthy and… real.
But the moment your lips crash against his, it’s over. He melts into it, mouth moving sloppily against yours, tongue eager and messy and needy. He moans into your mouth like he forgot he just made you cum with his tongue.
You taste yourself on his lips. He doesn’t care. He kisses like he’s grateful. Like he never thought you’d let him this close.
“Fuck,” you whisper into the kiss. “You’re so fucking gone.”
Sunghoon nods frantically, lips brushing yours, voice breathy. “I—I’ve never—no one’s ever tasted like you. No one’s ever let me—”
You shut him up with another kiss. He sighs into it.
It’s filthy. Sloppy. Your spit is on his chin, his on your lips, your slick still drying on his cheeks and neck. His hands tremble as they rest on your hips like he’s afraid to grip too tight, like he still thinks this is a dream he’ll wake up from.
And god — the way he ruts up against your thigh, still hard, untouched — it’s almost adorable.
“Still hard?” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re such a little gooner. All I did was let you taste me and you’re ready to blow again.”
“Can’t help it,” he groans. “I think about you all the time. Every day. You walk around in your towel and it’s over. I—I almost came in the laundry room once just smelling your shampoo.”
You let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You’re sick.”
He nods like it’s a compliment. “Only for you.”
And maybe it is.
You push him back onto the bed with a firm hand, and he falls flat on his back with a breathless “oof”—and his cock jumps at the sound.
“Stay,” you command.
Sunghoon obeys immediately, hands by his sides, chest rising and falling with every labored breath. You climb over him, hovering above his twitching cock — flushed, leaking, desperate for any kind of friction.
“Been saving this for me?” you ask, dragging a finger down his stomach, nails grazing lightly. “Bet you could’ve cum from just eating me out if I let you.”
He whines. “I almost did. I didn’t even—fuck, please. Please ride me.”
You cock your head. “That what you want, baby?”
“Yes—yes—I need it, I need you so bad—”
You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion and the sound he makes is feral. He’s practically vibrating beneath you. Like his skin’s too tight for his body.
You sink down slowly onto his cock, watching his face contort — brows scrunching, mouth dropping open, the sweetest, most broken moan spilling out of him. His hands fly to your waist but hesitate again, unsure.
“Touch me,” you breathe. “Hold me while I fuck you.”
And he does. Oh, he does. His grip is reverent, tight like he’s holding the sun in his lap and doesn’t want it to burn him. You start to move — slow, teasing, letting him feel every inch of you with every roll of your hips.
Sunghoon is loud. Whining your name. Gasping like he’s overwhelmed.
“You fit so good,” he groans, hips bucking without meaning to. “Tighter than I imagined—fuck—I’m sorry—”
“You imagined this?”
“Every night,” he confesses through a breathless moan. “After you shower, when you say goodnight in those shorts. I fuck my hand so hard thinking about your pussy wrapped around me—fuck—I even used your towel once—”
You laugh, wicked and warm. “You really are disgusting.”
“I know,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry—I’m so fucking obsessed with you—”
You ride him harder.
His back arches, head pressed into the mattress, and he makes this pitiful, high-pitched noise as your pace increases — your slick dripping down to his thighs, his hands clawing at your skin.
“Gonna cum,” he sobs. “I-I can’t—I’m gonna cum so fast, I’m sorry—please don’t stop—”
“Don’t,” you growl, gripping his face. “You’ll cum when I say.”
“Y-Yes—yes, please—just tell me when—”
He looks ruined. Pretty and red and trembling beneath you. It’s not just sex — it’s worship. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. Like he can’t believe this is real.
You lean in, kissing him again — messy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his whimpers swallowed by your lips.
“I want you to cum inside me, loser,” you whisper darkly into his mouth. “Wanna feel how full you can make me. Think you can do that for me?”
He sobs — actually sobs — and then cries out, “Yes, yes, please, please—fuck—I’m cumming—!”
And he does. Hard.
It hits him like a freight train — his entire body jolting as he empties into you, gasping your name, pulling you close like you’re air. He holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.
You fuck him through it. Ride it out until he’s twitching and oversensitive, until he’s begging through whimpers, tears in his eyes.
“I can’t—I can’t—it’s too much—”
You finally slow, leaning down to kiss his damp cheek, his jaw, whispering softly.
“You did so good for me, Hoonie,” you murmur, brushing sweaty strands from his forehead. “My good little gooner.”
He smiles weakly, eyes fluttering.
And then?
He passes out. Fully wrecked. Totally blissed out. Still twitching inside you.
The sun is barely up.
Your thighs ache in the best way. Your neck is marked, your core is still dripping from what happened last night — and Sunghoon?
Sunghoon is snoring quietly. Dead to the world. One arm thrown lazily over your waist, face pressed against your chest like you’re a body pillow he clung to in his dreams.
You should feel awkward. Or guilty. Or something.
Instead, you just watch him.
There’s a little bit of drool dried at the corner of his mouth. His hair is a mess, and he smells like you — your sweat, your slick, your shampoo.
You slowly shift, brushing your thigh between his legs.
He twitches.
Hard.
Still hard.
You grin.
Sunghoon stirs, nose nuzzling your skin, a low groan escaping his lips before his eyes crack open. He blinks blearily at your chest, and then—slowly—realizes you’re still here. Naked. In his bed. Tangled with him.
And his morning wood is pressed right against your thigh.
“Morning, baby,” you whisper sweetly, brushing hair from his eyes.
He flushes deep red. “Oh my god. I didn’t dream that, did I?”
“Nope.” You kiss his nose. “You came so hard you passed out. It was adorable.”
He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Kill me.”
You laugh softly, running your nails down his back. “Why would I kill my favorite toy?”
Sunghoon’s whole body shudders at that. You feel his cock jump.
“You’re evil,” he whispers.
“And you love it,” you counter.
He doesn’t deny it.
You roll slightly, nudging your hips just enough to feel him twitch again.
Sunghoon swallows, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking to your lips. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”
“You already did. Last night. Multiple times.”
He groans again, hiding under the blanket like it’ll erase the memory of his whining and sobbing into your mouth while you rode him senseless.
“…I liked it,” he says after a beat. Voice soft. “All of it. Even when you called me a pathetic little gooner.”
You smirk. “Because you are.”
He blinks. Hesitates. Then — with the shakiest burst of confidence — rolls over you, pinning your wrists. It would be hot… if he didn’t immediately look panicked like he’s not sure if he has permission.
“…Sunghoon.”
“Yeah?” he whispers, already nervous.
“You think you’re gonna take control now?”
He bites his lip. “I just thought—maybe—I could try?”
You look at his arms trembling, his cock twitching against your thigh like he’s overwhelmed just from being on top. He’s so pretty. So eager. So doomed.
You pull one hand free easily and cup the back of his neck, dragging him down into a kiss.
It’s slow, hot — tongue and teeth, his hips jerking without rhythm. And then you roll your hips up just once — grinding your slick against his length — and he whimpers right into your mouth.
That’s all it takes.
He collapses back into submission, lips trailing down to your jaw as you whisper, “You really thought I’d let you flip this on me?”
“I—I just…” He sighs. “I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You did,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding up against him again. “But you do that better when you’re whining under me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless sound as you push him back, reversing your positions again until you’re on top. His eyes flutter, chest rising fast.
“Round two?” you murmur, guiding him to your entrance.
He nods so fast it’s almost dizzying. “Yes. Please. Ride me again. I’ll be good—better—I’ll last this time, I swear—”
You sink down on him in one smooth motion, and his sentence dissolves into a cry.
“Fuck—! I’m gonna—!”
You put a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so, loser.”
His eyes roll back.
You’re not letting him out of that bed until the sun’s fully up.
You sink onto him in one smooth, claiming motion — his cock stretching you again, thick and warm, filling you so perfectly you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.
Underneath you, Sunghoon looks like he’s about to cry.
His fingers dig into the sheets, arms trembling as he fights the urge to buck into you, to chase that pleasure like the pathetic little addict he is. His mouth falls open — no words, no sounds, just wide eyes and flushed cheeks and one trembling breath after another.
You’re not even moving yet.
“Still sensitive?” you whisper, dragging your nails up his stomach.
“Y-Yeah,” he pants. “Too much—you're too warm, I—I’m gonna—”
You press your palm to his chest, steadying him. “No, you’re not.”
He nods quickly — like a good boy — biting down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You grind down, slow and deep, circling your hips just once.
Sunghoon sobs.
“Fucking hell—” he gasps. “Why does it feel better this time—?”
You lean in, your chest brushing his, lips at his ear. “Because you’re pussy drunk , baby.”
He whimpers.
“Because your loser brain is short-circuiting. Can’t even think straight. Just lying here like a pretty little toy for me to fuck.”
His hands fly to your hips, but you grab both wrists and pin them down.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“I-I’m sorry—!”
You roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, your pussy gripping him tight — dragging over every sensitive nerve inside him. His head throws back against the pillow, a choked moan tumbling out, and his toes curl against the sheets.
“You said you’d last,” you purr. “So show me, Hoonie.”
You begin to ride him — slow at first, deep, every bounce designed to drive him insane. He’s shaking. Trying to stay quiet. Trying so hard to obey you even though he’s unraveling.
Your hands press to his chest, and you can feel how hard his heart is racing.
“You can’t handle this, can you?” you ask sweetly. “This pussy’s too good for your pathetic little brain.”
His whole body shudders.
“I c-can!” he moans. “I swear, I—I can take it—please, just don’t stop—please—”
You ride him harder.
The sound of skin against skin fills the room — slick and obscene and perfect — and Sunghoon starts making those noises again. Those pretty, broken, breathless moans like he’s being ruined all over again. His body jerks every time you sink down on him, thighs trembling, abs flexing.
“Fuck—fuck—oh my god—”
“Say it,” you growl, bouncing faster now, grinding your clit against his base with every thrust. “Say you’re my fucktoy.”
“I’m—!” His voice breaks. “I’m your fucktoy—I’m yours—please use me, I wanna make you cum again, I’ll do anything—”
You slam down hard — all the way — and stay there, grinding in tight circles.
And that’s when he starts to cry.
Just a tear or two at first — overwhelmed, overstimulated, emotionally wrecked — and it’s beautiful. He’s flushed and glassy-eyed, his lip trembling, looking up at you like you’re everything.
“Can’t—can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can.”
“I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
You slap his cheek — gentle, firm — just once.
His eyes roll back, and he screams as he cums inside you again, loud and messy and raw, his whole body arching up off the bed as he spills everything into you.
Hot.
Heavy.
Way too much.
You ride him through it — overstimulating him, holding him down as he thrashes, twitching under you, gasping your name like a prayer and a curse.
His legs kick weakly, his hips jerking, a sob caught in his throat.
When he finally goes limp — sweaty, flushed, trembling — you slow your movements, grinding slowly just to ride out your own wave.
Your orgasm hits a second later.
Silently, this time. Deep, intense. Your walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop out of his twitching, oversensitive cock.
You collapse onto his chest, panting, skin hot, sweat clinging.
Sunghoon is wrecked.
Tears streaking his temples. Lips parted. Eyes barely open.
He looks so ruined, so small beneath you — but so happy.
You brush his hair back and kiss his damp forehead. “Still with me, baby?”
He swallows thickly. Nods.
“I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers.
You smile.
“You did good.”
He smiles too — soft, dreamy.
Then mumbles, “I think you broke my brain.”
You laugh softly, shifting just enough to tuck yourself against him without pulling off yet. “Good. You won’t need it anymore.”
And like the good, sweet, dumb little loser he is, Sunghoon falls asleep with you still wrapped around him — twitching every few minutes from overstimulation and murmuring your name like it’s carved into him.
When you wake again, the room smells like sex and sweat and still-Sunghoon.
Your legs ache, your body’s sore in all the right places — and wrong ones — and your head is still spinning from the blur of moans and messy kisses and the way he cried when you came again on his cock.
But now it’s morning.
And everything is… still.
You’re tucked into his side, but the space around you is cold — his body heat only lingering on the sheets. For a second, panic flickers in your chest. Did he leave? Did he freak out?
Then—
Soft footsteps.
The bathroom door creaks open.
He stands there in only a towel, hair still dripping, cheeks flushed.
“I started the shower,” he says, voice gentle. “It’s warm now. Thought you’d want one.”
You stare at him for a beat too long, brain catching up.
“…You’re being weird.”
He gives a soft laugh. “I know. Just—come on. Let me take care of you.”
You slide off the bed, muscles stiff, but his arms are there — immediately — wrapping around you like you’re precious. No teasing, no filthy comments. Just warmth.
Just him.
The shower’s fogging up the mirror. He helps you in first, hands on your waist, steadying you when you wince at the water hitting your sore thighs. Then he steps in behind you and pulls the curtain closed.
Silence.
Steam.
You wait for him to say something pervy.
But instead?
He pumps the body wash into his hand and starts lathering it down your back — gentle, focused. Massaging sore muscles, kissing your shoulder softly as he works.
You blink. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with loser Hoon?”
He grins — shy. Still Hoon. “He’s still here. He’s just… being serious for once.”
“…You sure about that?”
He turns you around — softly — cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. His eyes hold yours, and they don’t wander. Not to your chest. Not between your thighs.
Just… you.
“You didn’t have to be gentle with me last night,” he murmurs. “I wanted to be used. I meant it. But…”
His voice wavers just a little.
“…that’s not all I want from you.”
You blink. Heart thudding louder than the water falling between you.
“I know I’ve been a fucking mess,” he says, laughing at himself softly. “A gooner. A loser. Whimpering over you like a dog in heat. But I swear, that’s not the only me.”
He takes a shaky breath.
“And I know you’ve been in control. I loved that. I love how you take me apart. But I still want to be someone you can lean on, too. Someone who remembers to heat the shower before you step in. Who learns how to actually last more than two minutes just so I can take you apart. Not just your body, but…”
His thumb brushes under your eye.
“…your heart.”
You stare at him, stunned speechless for once.
He takes the chance to finish washing you — gentle hands gliding over your skin, washing between your legs with care and reverence, kissing your knuckles when he reaches for the shampoo. And when the water runs clear and warm again, he finally speaks once more:
“I don’t wanna be your toy forever,” he whispers. “I wanna be your person.”
You blink, breath caught.
“What are we?” he asks, voice raw. “Because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not even close. I don’t want this to just be some hookup that fades when we get awkward or bored. I want more.”
You don’t speak yet. You can’t.
But he keeps going.
“Can I… court you properly?” he asks, voice almost shaking. “Old school. Dumb, maybe. But like—real dates. Home-cooked dinners. Learning your favorite coffee order. Earning it.”
“Sunghoon…”
“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. You can still use me. I’ll still be here. But if there’s a part of you that wants more, too…”
You step forward.
And kiss him.
Soft, steady, meaningful.
His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close like he was holding back until now.
And when you finally part, forehead resting against his, you whisper:
“Then earn it, Park Sunghoon.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes squeezing shut in relief.
“Gladly.”
@ tobiosbbyghorl 2026
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