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[jullies-1009]

Deer in headlights

Heeseung was always on top. On top of the list with his grades, on top of popularity with his friend group, but could he be on top of you ? Not proofread ! (3.5 words)

Genre: smut

Pairing: desperate!heeseung x horny!reader

Tags: sub!hee, masturbation (m and f), edging, begging, dirty talk, lowkey humiliation, lots of sperm, jay cameo, Let me know if i missed something !

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

6pm 22. The school is still open, due to the school clubs like the journal or the tutoring. You're searching for someone, for him. Heeseung.

Heeseung is not just a normal student, he's the student that everybody likes, even teachers. He's the student that has good grades but never says he's better than anyone. He's the student that's the president of the student council. He's the student that throw parties the weekend for anyone who wants to come. He's the student that welcomes new people with a pretty smile. He's the student that everyone would love to be with, men or women, for the love and the sex.

Heeseung is known for two things : his good student side and his wild side. Not a lot of people had him in their bed. But apparently, when you succed that task, you're in heaven for the next hours. There is one rumor that everybody knows : after the welcoming party at the university, he was found with a girl in some random toilet, her straddling him with his cock inside her and him with his head burried in her boobs. He was rough, with no mercy. The girl couldn't walk for days after that, that's what people says.

You were searching for him because you were absent the other day and an important paper had been passed to other students, but not to you. So you went to administration and they told you to go to Heeseung.

While you were walking into the school, the sun was replaced by the moon, leading to the school being lit up only by the lights. It was the end of winter, but still winter so the day shut himself very early.

Almost all of the classrooms were empty, except for the one where students were studying or playing instruments or reading quietly. A door slightly opened caught your attention. You walked slowly to it, looking by the gap that was there. And there he was. Heeseung.

But not in his normal state. He was there but you couldn't see his face clearly because it was burried in his arms. Heeseung had his head on the table, surrounded by his arms. He had his legs crossed and he was moving them. With your point of view, that looked like he was putting strenght in them with each movement. When he finally put his head up, you could see him: his eyes were looking everywhere and anywhere at the same time, they were hooded, he was a blushing mess and his breath was fast, too fast for simply seating in a classroom.

He suddently moved his legs faster and faster until you could see that it hurted him, his eyes closed hard and his lips bitten harshly. A small sound escaped his mouth: a whimper.

You just heard Heeseung, the president of the student council that is supposed to be dominant, whimpering like a little slut. And that turned you on, more than it should have.

Heat was going straight to your core, simply by watching this filthy scene and hearing this sound that was like music to your ears. Your underwear was starting to get wet when he breathed and whimpered at the same time, opening his legs. He looked frustrated, but pleased at the same time. He started again after some time. You understood what he was doing: he was edging himself. With such determination, devotion that looked insanely hot to your eyes.

Ding ! You just received a message from "the person that ejected me from her aka mom ♡":

Hey sweetie, just a reminder that this year, you're a grown adult and that the paperwork isn't going to do itself! I'm sending you strength from wherever I am (next to your dad on the sofa). Kisses, Mom.

The text from your mom took you out of your watching session and reminded you the first thing of why you came here: the paperwork. You took all of your courage and knocked lightly on the door. Just a few seconds later, a voice welcomed you in. His voice wasn't shaky or anything strange, it was just normal. So you opened the door and greeted him with a little smile and a head bow.

"Oh, hi Y/N! I was waiting for you. So I have the paper but I doubt that the other told you what it was. You have to sign it and give at least ten euros to the administration. The money is for 'improving the school', which I doubt they're gonna do but anyway, you just have to do it."

You weren't really listening to him, you were thinking about how he regained his composure so fast and looked like he was just waiting, not like he was touching himself in school.

You asked with a little bit of shame,"Did I made you wait too long?" His gaze became surprised and a little bit soft and he said, with a smile on, "Don't worry ! I was doing something else before you came. It didn't feel like waiting." You thought to yourself, Well, you didn't came from what I saw. "Oh, and don't bother to read what is written on the paper, it's really hard to understand." And you look hard.

Even if Heeseung was really good at hiding what he felt just before, his body couldn't. The uniform's jeans were being thight around his crotch, molding his length perfectly. It almost looked painful but if it was, he showed nothing of it. Your eyes wandered only two seconds and hopefully, he didn't see it.

"Here, take it." His soft looking hand gave the paper to you, that you immediately put in your bag. He waited and started talking, "You're good at writting, right ? Didn't you win a poem contest when you were thirteen ?" Yes you did. Thinking about it now, it was horrible, but compared to other teenagers, you were better. "... how do you know that ?" You didn't tell it to anyone, too embarrassed about it. So why does he knows that ? Heeseung shook his hand fast, while looking at you, "Don't worry! It's only Jay, one of my friend that was in your middle school that told me this. I am not a creep or somethin'." Relief absorbed your eyes and you sighed. You knew Jay well, because he was your neighbor but anyway, you had what you wanted so you bidded goodbye and left, with the direction of your apartement.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

There, you prepared ten euros for tomorrow for administration and you sat on your couch, thinking about the situation you were exposed to: Heeseung. The Lee Heeseung. Touching himself in school. But more than that, whimpering. That couldn't be real but even if it wasn't, you didn't care, you wanted to see more of that. Seeing him vulnerable turned you on incontrolably. Maybe you were into that.

Maybe you were into submissive men, whimpering messes and men looking at you like you're a literal goddess. Maybe you were into Lee Heeseung. Maybe. Well, your hand knew the answer before you, as it was slowly creeping between your legs.

Your fingers gently resting on the thin fabric of your shorts made you let out a soft moan. You started caressing your clit under your clothes, and oh god, you were so sensitive. Was that how Heeseung felt in the classroom ? Your hips moved as if they had a brain of their own, emplifying the sensation. If you weren't already wet before, now you were a pool. Your cunt was dripping and squeezing around nothing. Probably like Heeseung's dick before, his head was probably wet with his pre-cum. Your fingers only going faster and faster with time passing. Probably like Heeseung's legs before. A knot was forming at the bottom of your stomach, growing while you couldn't stop humping your own fingers.

Your hand finally slipped under your shorts and panties, touching your bare core. Your eyes rolled back as a long and low moan came out of your throat. You started grinding very slowly against it and out of nowhere, the rythm escalated and your body started trembling. Probably like Heeseung before. You reached the climax and it was explosive. You tried to ride your orgasm but you couldn't, thights trembling with the force of it.

You collapsed on the couch with heavy breathing. Maybe you just touched yourself while thinking about Lee Heeseung. Maybe.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

"Heeseung, one hundred out of one hundred. Excellent, as always. I unfortunately couldn't say the same thing for you Bae, fifteen out of one hundred. You don't even try anymore. You have to wake up. But if we think about it, you're the first if we twist the paper but the paper isn't twisted. So you're the last in this class." The teacher winked at Heeseung when he handled him his exam while he threw the other at Bae's table.

"Y/N, you're not that far from Bae with your twenty five out of one hundred. I'm sure you can do better than that, try harder next time." After giving you a pitty but cheerful gaze, he gave you the paper of shame with a little note next to your grade: 'You maybe need a tutor :).'

You weren't the best in maths but needing a tutor ? That was your last straw. Studying with an old man ? No thanks. You'd rather have a zero than this.

When the bell rang, you were the first one to go out of the classroom. You went straight to the cafeteria, wanting to drown in your carbonara sauce. You didn't wanted to be perceived like someone weak. You weren't. "It's infuriating, uh?" The voice took you out of your anger. "If you keep eating like that you're gonna break that poor fork. She didn't ask for any of this by the way." You eyes landed on your ustensil that was crooked by your grip.

"Oh, you're right." A few seconds passed where she looked at you without saying a word. When you thought about getting up and leaving, she finally spoke. "So are you gonna do the tutoring thing? I do it but i never work so we kinda play board games the whole session instead of studying." Bae was spread on the table, looking at you with one eye opened. "Heeseung is pretty chill and I'm sure that he's a good teacher. I say that but i don't know because i don't work with him. He's pretty calm and..."

Bae was still talking but you weren't listening anymore. Tutoring with Heeseung? That didn't sound as bad as before. It was even a good idea. Only for work, that's what you told yourself but you knew that wasn't for that. It was for him. You had to go. No, you needed too.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

The weather was nice, not too hot, not too cold but windy. And you knew that so you wore a tiny skirt. If you bended over, the curve of your ass could be seen from below. You also wore a top that showed your boobs. Exactly what you wanted to get Heeseung hard again and hear his divine sounds. You put on makeup, did you hair and put on perfum. You took snacks and a condom, we never know what could happen, and you hopped something would happen.

You were as ready as you could be when you rang on his doorbell. Heeseung opened the door: he was wearing glasses—which he never wore in class—a black shirt, loose sweatpants, playboy underwear and he had a nervous, shy look on his face that only made him more attractive. You wanted to bite your lips but you restrained yourself, you didn't even greeted him! You took a gentle voice and a charming gaze.

"Hi Heeseung, thank you so much for helping me with maths ! It's the second time we see eachother out of the classroom, it's happening often lately ! Not complaining tho." He responded with a smile, "Hi, come in ! We're gonna start right away." Walking into his appartement, it looked exactly how you portrayed it: a cozy couch, white walls, some The Weeknd posters, a closet for alcool, a big computer, several keyboards and a pile of ramyeon? and some vinyls. It looked geek but cool. Exactly like him. You entered the kitchen and sat on the counter seats and you started working.

It has been thirty minutes and all you talked about was maths maths and maths. It was boring and Heeseung hasn't looked your way, not once because his eyes were glued to your damn copybook. He stopped wearing his glasses because he can 'think better without it' so his vison became worse. You had to do something.

Your hand accidentaly made your pen fall out of the counter and it rolled on the floor. "Oh, i'm gonna pick it up for you." He went on the floor to pick it but you were faster- and hornier. You bended to pick it up, making sure that Heeseung that was still on the floor got to see the line of your lingerie. It was small, black, made with lace and thin between your legs. You pretended not to catch the pen on the first try so he could admire the view for longer. And gosh, he saw it. The curve of your ass, your panties, all. And his dick too. He became hard in less then ten seconds and he needed right now to jerk off.

You had a plan and it was time for the next part. "Can I go to the bathroom? I don't know where it is." He led you to it without speaking, cheeks teinted with a light shade of pink. You stayed five minutes, waiting for him to realize how hard he really was. Then you came back and sat with your back arched so he could see your boobs better. You teased him during the whole session, until you could saw his tensed legs, until his ears were red, until he coughed for hiding his little moans that he couldn't contain, until you saw the shape of his length through his sweatpants. And after that, the final part could start. You made your pen roll on the table and fall between his legs.

Your hand moved and grabbed his crotch with your pen. Your grip tightened for only one second, "I'm so sorry!" and you removed your hand as fast as you could. Then, you heard it, what you waited for the whole day, he whimpered. A real, raw whimper, for you. He stopped moving and looked at you with fear in his eyes.

He looked like a dear in headlights. You looked at him with lust in yours. Heeseung wanted to speak, to say something, to disappear forever while you wanted to hear him again, "I'm so s-sorry, I-" so you pressed your hand again against his clothed penis. He did it again, and you didn't stopped.

"Y/N! What are you doing?" You watched him and said, "Edge yourself for me. Please. I'm not gonna tell anyone, this is gonna stay between us. Please, I know you want it to." You pratically were begging for him and it was so sudden that he didn't know what to do and say. Heeseung got of of his seat and breathed, "Just... wait please." His head thought were what the fuck, i'm cooked and i need to jerk off all at once.

"Of course, take your time." He sat on his coutch and thought, what would happen if he did it ? What would happen if he didn't do it ? He tried to think with his brain but his cock thought with him, influencing him to say the right answer.

"I... if I do it right now, only one time, would you let me go after this ?" His voice was so little and his eyes became round and looked at you like you were his master, you loved that sensation. "I would do anything to see that right now Heeseung, you don't know how much."

"... then come closer." Your feet landed on the floor with precaution, wanting to not scare him. You sat next to him and waited for him to start.

"Wait." You went to get the glasses he had left on the table and put them on him. He looked even more frightened and aroused—perfect.

A few minutes passed were he breathed to calm himself. Then, he started.

He crossed his legs and moved them at a tortured pace, closing his eyes harshly, as if he already wanted to come. "Mmh..." You listened to him moaning here and there, getting more and more aroused about his vocals. You then decided that if he was edging himself, you could too.

Your hand was doing slow circle on your bundle of nerves. You bit your lips and looked at him, at his face. He was red and had little tears pooled in his eyes. "Heedeungie, you're gonna cry ? Don't cry, i'm here." You took his head in your hands and caressed his hair. His voice became breathy and high when he moaned.

"Y/N... do it for me... please." He looked at you with all of his soul, ready to cry if you weren't gonna do it. "You want me to help you baby ? You need someone else's hand to get off ?" He nodded eagerly. "I'm gonna do it baby, don't move a single muscle." You croutched between his legs, looking at the obvious raging boner and at the big wet patch. "You couldn't contain yourself, your pervert." He blushed, red covering his cheeks.

You lowered his fly and looked at his Playboy boxers, stretched almost to the limit. You decided not to take them off right away, wanting to play with Heeseung. A single finger touching him, running the length of it from top to bottom. He was leaking non-stop, twitching whenever your finger came close to the head. You touched it briefly and pre-cum came out of it, forming a drop that dripped down his crotch, falling on the couch. You never saw someone leaking so much. "Y/N... please touch me."

"That's exactly what I'm doing baby, don't ask me too much." You completely stopped and lifted your finger. "No! I mean... please don't stop, I'm sorry." You looked at him with an eyebrow raised, "You want me to touch you?"

He closed his legs and begged, nodding without stopping, "Please, I can't keep it to myself, just touch me. Jerk me faster and harder 'till I can't understand anything. Please Y/N I need you so much please..." You crossed your arms. "Really ?" He pratically screamed the answer, "Yes! I feel like I'm gonna explode if you don't touch me, please Y/N."

So you gave him what he asked. You yanked his boxer in one go, took his cock in your hand, hold him very thight and wanked him the faster you could go. The sound of your hand hitting the root of it was echoing in his appartement. "Ah! Ah ah ah ah..." Heeseung moaned non-stop, going higher and higher until a tear rolled on his cheek. "I can't take it, it's too much!" You didn't stop, you went even faster, making him cry from the overstimulation.

"You can't take it Heedeungie ? Well you're gonna take it like the good boy you are." In less then two minutes, hot spurts of sperm came out of him. It was thick and long, covering his tee-shirt and your hand. He whimpered during his orgasm, making you smile. To accentuate his pleasure, you licked the edges of his head, making him shake so much that sperm went on your face too. He had trouble breathing and you didn't help by moving your hand that fast on his dick. It seemed like he never stopped coming and then, his whole body went numb, resting on the couch while panting like crazy.

"Oh... oh my god you're so- thank you, thank you so much. I never cummed that hard before. Thank you so much." Heeseung couldn't stop thanking you, his energy vanished. "Can I taste it ?" Without waiting for his answer, your tongue felt his long shaft, tasting the salty liquid that came out of it. His hips went up and he moaned for the last time before you stopped touching him.

"At my house next ?"

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

Jay knew something was off, why did Heeseung was in your garden ? He thought about calling him but didn't when he saw you coming out of your house. He opened his window with the hope of hearing something. He waited and nothing came. So he continued to play his electric guitar when he heard a strange sound. Then multiple and more louder sounds came out of your house. Whimpers. Looks like someone is edging again.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

a/n: here is my first fic! hope it was well written because it was my first smut and english is not my first language so sorry if sometimes it's weird. I'm so happy, I finally finished writting it, hope you enjoyed it!

[mbbvixen]

Monsta Ex: Changkyun (Part 1)

Measure of a Man Changkyun x F! Reader Mature | Explicit | MDNI High fashion meets high tension when a Creative Director is forced to fit the superstar ex who broke her heart. Part 2

The sharp click of your heels against the polished concrete is the only sound in the atelier, a rhythmic reminder that you aren’t the stylist who left Seoul three years ago—you’re the one who runs it now. As the new Regional Creative Director, you’ve spent the morning reviewing the "Face of the House" campaign, a project signed and sealed by the board before your arrival. You haven't even seen the talent's headshots yet, preferring to let your first impression be as clinical and professional as the lines of your tailored suit. The air in the atelier was always cool, crisp, and smelled of expensive wool and starch. It was a scent you’d come to associate with control. Your control. You held the silk measuring tape between your fingers, its smooth length coiled like a silent promise of precision. Your assistant, hovered near the rack of prototype garments, her tablet glowing. “He’s here,” she murmured, just as the heavy oak door swung open.

And the controlled atmosphere shattered.

He filled the doorway. That was your first, jarring thought. Im Changkyun didn’t just enter; he commanded the space. The boy you’d known—lean, all sharp angles and a guarded slouch—was gone. In his place stood a man carved from something denser. His shoulders strained the seams of a simple black t-shirt, the fabric pulling across a chest that was now undeniably broad. The military had not just taken him; it had forged him. His posture was erect, effortless, and it made the high-ceilinged room feel suddenly small.

His gaze swept the room, those cat-like eyes—always so perceptive—landing on the fabrics, the mood boards, and finally, on you. They widened, just a fraction. A minuscule crack in the armor. The air vanished from your lungs. For three years, you’d built a fortress of professional success, brick by brick, and in one silent second, he reduced it to rubble.

“Regional Creative Director,” he said, his voice a low, resonant baritone that vibrated in the hollow of your chest. It was deeper than you remembered, more settled. It held a new, rough-hewn quality that was utterly lethal. “Impressive.”

You forced your fingers not to tighten on the tape. Professional. You are a professional. “Mr. Im. Welcome. We’re ready for your first fitting.” You sounded calm, blessedly neutral. “Please, step onto the platform.”

He moved with a quiet, predatory grace, his boots silent on the polished concrete. He stood on the circular dais, his back to the full-length mirrors, and looked down at you. The height difference felt more pronounced now. You were in your heels, the ones that usually made you feel powerful, but they did nothing against the sheer physicality of his presence.

“The trousers first, please,” you instructed your assistant, your voice thankfully steady.

You took the bespoke wool trousers from her. The fabric was a midnight navy, impossibly soft and heavy in your hands. “You’ll need to remove your jeans.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips—not the bright, dimpled one from memory, but something darker, more knowing. He unbuttoned his jeans, the sound absurdly loud in the quiet room. He pushed them down over his hips, revealing black boxer briefs that clung to the powerful lines of his thighs. You kept your eyes fixed on the garment in your hands, your cheeks warming. Do not look. Do not remember.

“Step in, please,” you said, kneeling before him.

It was an intimate, submissive position you’d performed a hundred times for models. It was clinical. It was necessary. But as he lifted one foot, then the other, you were kneeling at the feet of your past. You drew the trousers up his legs, your knuckles brushing against the taut, warm skin of his calves. The heat of him seeped through the fine wool. You worked quickly, pulling them up over his knees, to his thighs. You had to stand to get them over his hips. This brought you closer, your face level with his chest. His scent hit you then—not the cologne from the old days, but something clean, soap and skin and a faint, masculine musk. It was devastatingly familiar, yet entirely new.

You focused on the task. You fastened the hook and eye, then the button fly, your fingers deft. The trousers fit him like a second skin, hugging the new, powerful curve of his glutes, the strong line of his quadriceps. “We’ll need to check the waist,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

You knelt again, this time with a pincushion strapped to your wrist. You had to get the waistband perfectly snug. You inserted the first pin, gathering the excess fabric at the small of his back. Your fingers brushed the waistband of his briefs. You could feel the firm, warm flesh of his lower back. You moved to his side, pinning the seam. The silence was thick, charged. You could feel his eyes on the top of your head, a physical weight.

Then you shifted to his front, to his right hip. You bent, measuring the drape. Your knuckle, as you reached to pinch the fabric, grazed the hard plane of his hip bone, just above the waistband.

His hand shot down, fingers wrapping around your wrist.

You froze. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm, unbreakable. His thumb settled over the frantic pulse point in your wrist, pressing down. A direct line to your hammering heart.

You looked up, your gaze traveling the long line of his body, over the defined abdomen hinted at beneath his shirt, the broad chest, finally meeting his eyes. They were dark, unreadable pools.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he rasped. The words were simple, but the delivery was layered. There was a bitterness there, an acknowledgment of the time and distance. But underneath it, coiling like smoke, was a raw, unmistakable hunger. It was in the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his thumb began a slow, deliberate stroke against your racing pulse.

Every cell in your body screamed. Heat pooled low in your belly, a treacherous, familiar ache. Your mouth went dry.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice a thin whisper. You pulled your wrist back, gently but insistently. He let go, his fingers sliding away slowly, leaving a brand of heat on your skin.

You stood up, needing space, needing oxygen. Now you were face-to-face, your eyes locked. In his, you saw the ghost of all the unsaid things—the fights, the laughter, the whispered promises in a dark dressing room a lifetime ago. The memory was vivid, sensual. His mouth on your neck, your hands fumbling with his belt—

And then, like a bucket of ice water, another image snapped into your brain. Sharp, painful, piercing. Him, laughing, his arm around her. A girl sitting on his lap with a bright smile, her head on his shoulder. A photo you’d seen once, accidentally, that had finalized your decision to walk away.

You broke the eye contact first, looking down as if checking the line of the trousers. The spell was broken, replaced by a cold, hard knot of old hurt and fresh annoyance.

“The fit is good here,” you said, your voice returning to its professional clip. "Dear, please take over and go through the campaign timeline and mood boards with Mr. Im. I’ll just double check stuff,” you tell your assistant.

You retreated to a high stool near your desk, putting the solid oak between you and the platform. You crossed your legs, picked up your own tablet, and pretended to study something of utmost importance. You were just there, watching.

Your assistant, ever efficient, launched into her presentation. Changkyun listened, nodding occasionally, asking a quiet, intelligent question about the lighting concept. But his attention was not on her. Every few moments, his gaze would drift across the room and land on you. It was a heavy, lingering look that felt like a physical touch. It traced the line of your jaw, the dip of your collarbones exposed by your blouse, the nervous tap of your finger on the tablet screen. You refused to meet it, keeping your eyes glued to the screen, but you felt it everywhere—a slow, simmering brand on your skin.

The briefing ended. She smiled, gathering her things. Changkyun stepped off the platform.

He walked over to you first. He extended his hand. “Thank you for your time, Director.”

You took it, another mistake. His hand was large, warm, completely enveloping yours. His grip was firm, confident. A callus on his palm scraped lightly against your skin—a new texture, a mark of his changed life. You felt that touch straight to your core. The tattoos on his forearm shifted as his muscles flexed, a dark, intricate map of everything he had become while he was away. They were stark against his skin—bold lines and jagged edges that looked nothing like the guy you used to know.

“We’re pleased to have you as the face of the house,” you said, the corporate mantra automatic.

He held the handshake a beat too long. Then he released you and turned to your assistant, repeating the gesture. But as he shook her hand, he smiled—that full, devastating, dimpled smile you hadn’t seen today—and winked.

A hot, irrational spike of annoyance shot through you. It was petty, it was unprofessional, but it burned. That charming, easy smile that was now directed at your assistant. The same smile that had once been yours. The wink, so casual, so flirty. It felt like a deliberate provocation.

“Thank you for the thorough briefing,” he said to her, his voice warm.

“Of course, Mr. Im!” she chirped, a faint blush on her cheeks.

And then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

The silence he left in his wake was deafening. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a deep, ragged exhalation that made your shoulders slump. It felt like surfacing after being held under water for too long. The cool, controlled air of the atelier rushed back in, but it did nothing to cool the fever under your skin. Your wrist still tingled where his thumb had pressed. Your whole body felt hyper-aware, buzzing with a chaotic mix of unresolved desire, old anger, and a sharp, jealous heat.

Your assistant was saying something about confirming the next appointment. You nodded, not hearing the words. All you could see was the dark intensity in his eyes when he grabbed your wrist, and the easy, infuriating charm of his wink.

The professional mask was still in place, but beneath it, everything was cracking.

(Based on Whispers in the Dark)

[mbbvixen]

PULSE (Part 1)

The Base Note Choi Seungcheol X f! Reader MDNI | Mature | Slow Burn | Smut Your clinical composure as an introverted perfumer completely unravels during a high-tension skin-chemistry analysis when SEVENTEEN’s leader, Choi Seungcheol, uses his wits and charm to shatter your strict professional boundaries. Part 2

The compounding room hummed with the quiet symphony of climate control, a steady whisper of filtered air, the distant gurgle of a distillation unit cycling through its phases, the soft tick of the magnetic stirrer. You preferred it here. Four stories underground, windowless, bathed in the sterile blue-white glow of color-corrected LEDs calibrated to daylight brightness. No distractions. No small talk. Just some science and math.

Your domain. Your sanctuary.

The charcoal-grey silk blouse sat crisp against your collarbones, the top button secured exactly at the hollow of your throat. Your fingers, gloved, size extra small, hovered over a rack of glass pipettes arranged by volume in descending order. Ten milliliters. Five. Two. One. Each one sterile, each one waiting.

The formula on your workstation monitor glowed in neat columns. A skeleton of a fragrance, all structure and no heart yet. You’d been nursing this composition for six weeks, stealing hours between commercial briefs to perfect the dry-down. It needed something warm. Something that breathed.

The door to the compounding room swung open with a quiet whoosh.

“There you are.”

Director Park Min-ji’s heels announced her arrival three seconds before her voice did. She navigated the narrow aisle between workbenches with the practiced urgency of someone who considered walking a waste of time. Her tablet was already extended toward you like a warrant.

“I need you upstairs.”

You didn’t look up from the pipette you were slotting into its holder. “I’m in the middle of a trial. The formula needs another forty minutes.”

“The Hedione can wait.”

“With respect, Director, it literally cannot. That’s how chemistry works.”

Min-ji exhaled through her nose—a sound you’d catalogued over eighteen months of working under her as exasperation, level four. She set the tablet down on your clean bench directly on top of your printed chromatograms, which you recognized as a deliberate provocation.

“Choi Seungcheol is here.”

The name meant nothing to you.

Your expression must have communicated as much because Min-ji’s eyes widened fractionally behind her narrow Prada frames. “SEVENTEEN’s leader? The one with the—” she gestured vaguely toward her own face, “—the jawline? He’s doing a solo brand ambassadorship. Luxury men’s fragrance line. Massive contract. His team reached out last week.”

You pulled off your gloves, snapping the left cuff with practiced efficiency. “I don’t handle celebrity briefs. Ellie does the pop star accounts. She speaks their language.”

“Ellie gave him three custom samples last Tuesday. He rejected all of them.” Min-ji’s voice dropped, losing its corporate sheen. “His exact words were ‘boring.’ Then he asked if we had anyone more… specialized. Someone who’d actually think about his skin instead of just pushing market-tested accords.” She paused, letting the implication settle. “He specifically requested you. By reputation.”

Your hand stilled on the drawer handle.

“I don’t have a reputation. I work in a basement.”

“You have a reputation for being the most stubborn nose in this building,” Min-ji said, and there was something almost like admiration in her tone. “He wants a live skin-chemistry analysis. Top-floor executive office. Now.”

The executive floor smelled like money. Not the sharp metallic kind that changed hands in boardrooms, but the quiet, settled wealth of polished mahogany and hand-tufted wool carpets and the faint, bitter ghost of expensive espresso. The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with abstract art you suspected was chosen by a consultant specifically to look like it hadn’t been chosen by a consultant.

Your leather portfolio case weighed heavy in your left hand, filled with glass vials, sterile pipettes, scent strips, and a battered lab notebook that predated your employment at the brand by half a decade. Your right hand stayed empty, fingers curling and uncurling against your palm.

It’s just another skin analysis. Volatile top notes. Elevated skin temperatures. How the oils lock into the skin. You’ve done this two hundred times.

The executive assistant pushed open the heavy double doors and gestured you inside.

The room was vast. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with cold light, Seoul’s skyline sprawling gray and glittering beyond the glass. A mahogany conference table dominated the center—massive, old-growth, the kind of furniture that had witnessed corporate takeovers and hostile negotiations. You set your portfolio down and began arranging your instruments with the mechanical precision of a surgical nurse: pipettes parallel, vials grouped by weight, scent strips fanned exactly five degrees apart.

The door opened again behind you.

You didn’t turn. You were adjusting the fluid line in a graduated cylinder, holding it at eye level, and you would finish this measurement before you acknowledged anyone. It was a small act of control, and you needed it.

“They really do keep you hidden downstairs.”

The voice was low. Rough at the edges, like velvet dragged against the grain. It registered somewhere in your chest before it reached your ears.

You set down the cylinder and turned.

Choi Seungcheol filled the doorway.

That was your first thought—not that he stood in it, but that he filled it, the broad line of his shoulders cutting a silhouette against the corridor light. His suit was unstructured, expensive, thrown on with the casual disregard of a man who understood that looking effortless required more effort than looking meticulous. Beneath the jacket, a black tee draped low across his chest, the neckline plunging far enough to reveal the hard architecture of his collarbones.

His face was sharper than the photos you’d never bothered to look at. Strong jaw. Dark, observant eyes that tracked across the room and landed on you with an intensity that felt almost physical.

You bowed. Formal. Precise. A perfect forty-five-degree angle timed to exactly two seconds.

“Choi Seungcheol-ssi. I’m the senior perfumer assigned to your brief. I’ll be conducting your skin-chemistry analysis this afternoon.”

His head tilted. A fractional movement. “You bow like a CEO.”

“I bow like someone who respects professional boundaries.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Behind him, a small entourage hovered—a manager, an assistant, someone holding a garment bag. Seungcheol half-turned toward them, lifting one hand in a casual dismissal. “Give us the room.”

“Seungcheol-ah, the schedule—”

“The schedule can wait.” His tone didn’t sharpen, but something in it shifted—an assumption of authority so natural it didn’t need volume. “I’ll text when we’re done.”

The manager hesitated. The assistant glanced nervously at the garment bag. Seungcheol didn’t repeat himself. He simply stood there, patient, immovable, a man entirely comfortable with silence as a negotiation tactic.

They left.

The heavy boardroom doors clicked shut behind them. Seungcheol reached backward without looking, his fingers finding the brass lock, and turned it with a sound that echoed in the quiet room.

Click.

Slow. Deliberate. Final.

He moved into the room like he owned it—which, you realized belatedly, he probably did now, or at least his endorsement contract did. He didn’t sit in the executive chair at the head of the table. Instead, he leaned against the edge of the mahogany surface directly beside your arrangement of vials, his hip resting against the wood, his arms crossing over his chest.

He was close. Closer than a client needed to be. Close enough that you could smell him beneath the dry-cleaned wool of his jacket—something warm and clean, cedar maybe, and underneath it the faint salt of skin.

“So.” His eyes traveled over your face, your high buttoned collar, your glasses, your rigid posture. The smirk that had been threatening finally arrived—slow and lazy, pulling at one corner of his mouth. “You’re the genius they keep hidden downstairs.”

“I’m a perfumer.”

“Same thing.” He uncrossed his arms, letting one hand rest on the table beside him, his fingers long and relaxed against the dark wood. “I was told you were a tough one.”

You reached for the glass rod you’d prepared—musk base, a high concentration of ambergris, the raw materials still viscous and clinging. “I’m thorough. There’s a difference.”

“I like tough.”

He said it the way someone might comment on the weather. Casual. Warm. Utterly assured.

You ignored the way his voice curled around the words and stepped forward, the glass rod held between your thumb and forefinger. A single drop trembled at the tip, catching the light.

“I need your wrist please.”

Seungcheol didn’t extend his arm.

Instead, he pushed off from the table and stepped into your space. One step. Then another. Until the toes of his leather shoes nearly met the tips of your practical low heels, and you had to tilt your chin upward to maintain eye contact, and the air between you grew dense with the scent of musk concentrate and something else—something warmer, something alive.

His hand found yours.

Large fingers wrapped around your wrist first. The grip was gentle but absolute, the pad of his thumb settling directly over your pulse point and pressing down with just enough pressure to feel the rhythm beneath your skin.

Your heart stuttered.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow arc across the blue veins at your wrist. “Do they always run cold, or is that just for me?”

The glass rod trembled. You steadied it through sheer professional will.

“My hands are temperature-regulated for chemical stability. Heat compromises volatile compounds.” The words came out clipped, clinical. Good. That was the armor. That was the wall. “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to do my job, Sir.”

His eyes met yours. Dark. Amused. Watching you with the patient, predatory stillness of someone who’d spotted a crack in the facade and was deciding whether to slip through it.

He released your wrist.

But he didn’t step back.

“Do your job, then.”

You took his hand with more force than necessary, flipping it palm-up and pressing your fingertips to the wide plane of his wrist. His skin radiated heat, higher than average temperature. You noted distantly, probably elevated due to recent activity or baseline metabolic rate. Beneath the surface, the steady thrum of his pulse beat against your index finger.

You dabbed the musk base onto his pulse point. The liquid bloomed against his skin, the top notes already beginning to evaporate, shifting from sharp alcohol to something warmer, deeper.

“I’m going to test a secondary accord now,” you said, your voice steady. “A leather and heated-skin base. It requires proximity to the artery to assess projection.”

“Proximity to the artery.” He repeated the phrase like it was a punchline only he understood. “Is that the scientific term for my neck?”

“It’s the anatomical term.”

“Of course.” That smirk again. “Please. By all means. Be anatomical.”

You didn't answer. Instead, you tapped the edge of the heavy mahogany table and pointed toward the adjustable leather seat positioned in the center of your workspace. “Sit on the stool, please. I need you at a specific height for the secondary application.”

Seungcheol let out a low, amused huff but complied, sliding his broad frame onto the seat. He hooked his heels over the lower rungs, his knees naturally parting wide to accommodate his frame as he looked up at you, his dark eyes brimming with anticipation.

You set down the glass rod. Selected a fresh scent strip. Dabbed it with the leather accord—rich and dark and something warmer beneath, something that smelled like sun-heated skin.

Then you stepped between his knees.

He’d settled back against the table’s edge, his legs parting slightly to accommodate your approach, and the position was, it was professional, you could perform a skin analysis from this angle, you’d done it before with other clients, there was nothing untoward about a perfumer standing in the V of a seated client’s knees.

His thighs bracketed your hips. Not touching. But close. Close enough that the heat of his body reached you through the layers of your trousers and his suit fabric, and every instinct in your introverted, boundary-protecting soul began screaming for you to step back.

You didn’t step back.

You raised the scent strip toward the side of his throat. His skin was smooth there, freshly shaved, the tendon of his neck curving down toward that architectural collarbone. You pressed the strip to his pulse point, the carotid, right at the angle of his jaw. You leaned in to assess the scent trail.

Your face hovered inches from his throat.

Leather. Wood. The faint, sweet salt of human skin. And beneath it, something else. Something that wasn’t on the scent strip, something that was him, a warm and slightly spicy note that the chemicals were lifting and amplifying and throwing into the air between you like a challenge.

Your breath caught.

You heard it happen. A tiny stutter in your exhalation, right against his throat, where he could absolutely feel it.

Seungcheol tilted his head back.

The movement was slow. Almost lazy. His chin lifted, exposing the long column of his throat, and his eyes dropped to watch you from beneath heavy lids. The intensity in his gaze shifted, the playfulness draining away, replaced by something heavier, something that made your stomach drop and tighten in a way you refused to name.

His hand moved.

You didn’t register it until his palm was already there, spreading warm and broad across the small of your back, his fingers splaying over the silk of your blouse. He didn’t pull. He didn’t yank. He just pressed, firm and steady. Exerting a pressure that drew you a fraction of a centimeter closer to him, until the heat of his thighs was no longer a theoretical measurement but a tangible presence brushing against your trousers.

“You smell like clean soap and expensive paper, Director.” The whisper brushed against your cheek, low and rough, intimate enough to qualify as a secret. His thumb traced the ridge of your spine through the silk. "Let's see how long you can keep that up."

he words hit your brain a full second after they hit your nervous system.

Your body understood before your mind did, the sudden flush of heat blooming across your cheeks, the sharp punch of your pulse at your throat, the way your fingers tightened on the scent strip until the cardboard bent.

You snapped backward.

The movement was graceless, unprofessional, a retreat rather than a step. His hand fell away from your back as you broke contact, and you used the sudden cold absence of his touch to rebuild the walls that had crumbled so spectacularly in the space of three seconds. “The—the top notes.” Your voice came out higher than you intended. You cleared your throat, forcing it back into your usual serious, professional tone. “The citrus elements in this blend fade very quickly when the skin gets too warm. Most regular perfumes use heavy artificial chemicals to force those fresh scents to last longer, but the problem is those chemicals leave a waxy, fake after-scent that ruins the natural warmth of your skin. If you try to fix that with more synthetic boosters, the fragrance loses all its crisp clarity, and the whole blend just collapses into a cheap, generic smell you could buy at any department store for forty thousand won, which is—”

You were talking too fast.

The words tumbled out in a torrent, syllables tripping over each other, and you couldn’t stop. The intellectual yapping had engaged—your primary defense mechanism, the emergency flood-wall that rose whenever human interaction threatened to breach the carefully maintained levee of your composure.

““—and then there’s the issue of the heavier musk molecules, which are physically larger and need healthy, hydrated skin oils to really lock into place. That is exactly why skin type matters so much when making a custom perfume. If someone has really dry skin, it won't hold onto those deep base notes for more than an hour, no matter what kind of ingredients you use to try and trap the scent—”

You were pacing now. Actually pacing. Back and forth across the executive carpet, one hand gesturing while the other clutched the bent scent strip like it was a lifeline.

Seungcheol watched you.

He’d settled back against the table, arms crossed, the pose relaxed but his eyes tracking your every movement with an attention so focused it felt almost indecent. The smirk had widened—not mocking, exactly, but deeply, authentically amused, the expression of a man watching something unexpected and delightful unfold.

Your cheeks were on fire.

You knew they were. You could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a humiliating pink flush that contradicted every word of clinical detachment coming out of your mouth. Your glasses had slipped half an inch down your nose, and you pushed them up with a jab of your finger, still talking.

“—and the average human nose can distinguish about a trillion different scents, but the whole industry just keeps churning out the exact same four basic blends and calling it innovation. That is why I never take celebrity projects. It isn’t because I have anything against celebrities, but because their requests are always identical—make it sexy, make it last all day, make it smell like me but better. There is no real science to it, just marketing, focus groups, and—””

“Are you done?”

The interruption was gentle. Almost fond.

You stopped mid-stride, your lecture derailing so abruptly that you swayed slightly in place. Your chest heaved. You’d run out of oxygen somewhere around heavier musk molecules.

Seungcheol uncrossed his arms. He didn’t laugh at you, though the corner of his mouth twitched again, and the fondness in his expression deepened into something that made your breath catch for an entirely different reason.

“You’re cute when you’re panicking,” he said.

“I’m not panicking. I’m educating.”

“Your glasses are fogging up.”

They were. You ripped them off your face and polished them on the hem of your blouse with more aggression than the task required. When you shoved them back onto your nose, Seungcheol was watching you with his head tilted, that patient amusement still radiating from him like heat from a banked fire.

“I have a questionnaire,” you announced, your voice edging toward shrill. “A comprehensive client intake form. For the brief. We should—I need to gather your preferences before I can formulate anything useful.”

“A questionnaire.” He said it like you’d proposed a medieval duel.

“Yes. It’s standard procedure.”

You snatched your portfolio from the table, unzipped it with a decisive hiss, and produced a four-page document covered in dense, single-spaced text. You’d written it yourself three years ago during a particularly frustrating celebrity brief that had gone through seventeen rounds of revisions. No one had ever actually completed it. Most clients took one look and surrendered to whatever the marketing team recommended.

You dropped it onto the table between you with the force of a gauntlet thrown.

Seungcheol glanced at it. Then back at you. Then back at the questionnaire, his eyebrows climbing incrementally as he took in the sheer density of the text.

“Sit here please,” you commanded, leading him to the executive chair. “We’ll go through it line by line.”

He sat.

To your absolute astonishment, he sat. He pulled out the heavy leather chair, settled into it with the languid grace of a man who had never been uncomfortable in his life, and folded his hands on the table like a student waiting for an exam.

You sat across from him. Poised your pen. Refused to look him in the eye.

“Question one. Preferred scent profiles?”

“Warm.” He answered immediately. No hesitation. “Something that feels like skin after the sun goes down. Not cologne-y. Not like I’m trying to announce myself.”

Your pen scratched across the paper. Warm. Post-sun skin. Avoid overtly cologne-y elements.

“Notes you dislike?”

“Anything aquatic. I don’t want to smell like a shower gel.”

No marine accords. No aquas. “Longevity expectations?”

“Eight hours minimum. But not aggressive. I want it to fade into something intimate.” He paused. “Something you’d have to get close to notice.”

The way he said close made your pen slip. You corrected the line and refused to acknowledge the heat crawling up the back of your neck.

“What kind of trail do you want to leave behind?”

He leaned forward.

The movement was unhurried. Deliberate. His forearms settled on the mahogany, his shoulders broadening with the shift, and suddenly the table felt much smaller than it had a moment ago.

“Something heavy,” he said, his voice dropping into that lower register that seemed designed to bypass your ears and sink directly into your chest. “Something that stays on a person’s skin long after I’ve left the room.” His head tilted, those dark eyes catching yours and holding them. “Don’t you agree, Director?”

You wrote furiously.

High sillage/heavy projection. Persistent skin adhesion. Late-stage dry-down with intimate throw distance.

You did not look at his lips. You did not think about the way his mouth shaped the word skin. You did not notice the tiny scar at the corner of his lower lip, or wonder how it would feel against—

“Next question,” you snapped, flipping the page with more force than necessary.

e knock came like a rescue flare.

Sharp. Professional. Three quick raps against the boardroom door, followed by the rattle of the brass handle. “Seungcheol-ah?” His manager’s voice, muffled through the heavy wood. “We really have to go. The styling team is waiting for the next shoot, and traffic is building.”

Seungcheol sighed.

The sound was quiet, almost private—a release of breath that carried something too complex to name. Then the idol persona slid back into place with the ease of a well-fitted jacket. He stood, buttoning his suit coat, his posture straightening into the public-facing version of himself: approachable, professional, charming without being threatening.

“Thank you for your time.” The words were generic, directed at the ceiling as much as at you. The manager pushed open the door, already typing on a phone, already mentally moving on to the next obligation.

You stood rigidly by the table, clutching your questionnaire to your chest like a shield. Your bow was precise. Formal. Measured.

You survived. You maintained professional boundaries. He’s leaving.

The manager was already halfway to the elevator, calling out something about a backup dancer who needed an extra fitting. Seungcheol followed at a leisurely pace, his shoes silent on the carpet.

He passed your side of the table.

You didn’t anticipate the pause. You didn’t anticipate the way he slowed, his stride breaking for half a beat, his body angling toward you as naturally as if he’d been drawn by gravity.

His mouth found your ear.

The brush of his lips against the shell of it lasted less than a second—so quick that by the time your brain registered the contact, he’d already pulled back. The whisper that came with it was low, rasping, so intimate that it felt like a secret pressed into your skin.

“Fix your collar, Director.”

Your breath stopped.

“You missed a button.”

His voice curled around the words. A promise. A threat. An invitation.

“Let’s do more next time.”

He straightened. Smiled at the room like nothing had happened. Raised one hand in a casual wave that wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. The glass doors swung shut behind him, and his silhouette receded down the corridor, and the manager’s voice faded into the distant hum of the elevator bank.

Your portfolio slipped from your nerveless fingers.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud, papers spilling, a pen rolling under the table. You didn’t pick them up. Your hands flew to your throat, fingers scrambling against the silk of your blouse, searching for the missing button—

Every button was fastened.

From the hollow of your throat to the highest point of your sternum, every single one sat precisely in its buttonhole. The collar lay flat. The silk was pristine. Your blouse was perfectly, immaculately intact.

He’d lied.

He’d lied just to make you check.

Your pulse hammered against your fingertips, wild and traitorous, and you could feel it everywhere—at your wrists, at your throat, low in your stomach where a heat had kindled that no amount of intellectual yapping could extinguish. The scent of the leather accord still clung to the air, mixed now with something else, something that smelled like clean soap and warm skin and the ghost of a whisper pressed against your ear.

The glass doors were still swinging.

[dibidibidismynameisleeknow]

Got Room For One More?

MDNI I will block blank blogs and those without age indicators.

Pairing: Changkyun x Reader x Yuta

A/N: MDNI! This is just complete filthy smut. Word count is like 1900-ish words. Don't like it, don't tell me. I'll cry.

Warnings: Threesome, choking, language, sexually deprived!reader, possessive/dom Changkyun, dom Yuta, vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving) nipple play, bratty Yuta, vaginal sex, light breath play

“Changkyun! You're home!” 

He was only gone for two nights, which wasn't a lot, but you had needs, needs that could only be satisfied by your drop dead gorgeous boyfriend. Changkyun absolutely loved it when you took control, which only intensified when you pushed him up against the closest wall. “I need you to fuck me stupid, until I can't walk.”

“Baby.” Changkyun was trying to get your attention but fell short the moment you began to suck a hickey on his neck.

“I've been wet all fucking day. I don't even need you to prep me.”

The offer was very enticing for Changkyun. There was nothing more that he wanted than the sound of you screaming his name while he fucked you. But;

“Babe we have company.”

Your movement came to a sudden halt, whipping around to see his close friend Yuta. There was no strength left in your body to hold back your immediate disappointment at the cock block standing before you.

“For fuck sakes.”

Yuta gave you an eye roll in reply. “It's nice to see you too.”

“You'll have to forgive me. I'm kind of horny and was looking forward to jumping my boyfriend's bones.”

Yuta couldn’t stop the words before they left his mouth, not that he really wanted to. “Don't let me stop you.” 

It wasn’t exactly what was agreed on between the two men the morning after some drunken confessions. Changykun wrapped his arms around your waist to press himself against your back. His hips moving just subtly enough for you to feel just how turned on he was. 

“No, you don't understand. This isn't going to be a quickie.” There were only so many words you could say to express just how in the mood you were, and you wanted Yuta gone. “It'll be an all night thing. I kind of had the intention of getting fucked until the sun came up.” 

“Don't let me stop you,” he repeated.

Changkyun brought his mouth to kiss just behind your ear. “We could let him watch.” One of his hands sliding between your legs, rubbing you through your very thin leggings. “Or he could join.” 

Changkyun could feel you grow wetter at the suggestion and pushed his hardening cock against your backside, that was all the confirmation you needed to know that he was more than okay with the idea. A threesome with your boyfriend and his hot ass friend? Things between the two of you were far from vanilla, so you really didn't need to think too much about it.

“Yuta, you clean?”

“Yep, got tested after my last relationship and I haven't seen anyone since.”

“Bedroom now.”

Yuta eagerly followed the two of you to your shared bedroom, beyond excited at the opportunity. Heavily influenced by alcohol two nights prior, Changkyun accidentally let it slip just exactly what the two of you got up to behind closed doors and that you both wanted to try a threesome at least once but weren’t sure who to ask. The following morning Yuta was more than happy to give a standing offer to help you two out, and Changkyun was to let him know what you thought about the idea.

“Let us know if you want to stop or if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

Yuta gave you a nod, signalling he understood and wasted no time to tear off his own shirt. “Likewise.”

You did nothing to stop the way your jaw dropped at Yuta’s exposed torso. Changkyun could see the way your fingers twitched.

“It’s rude to stare,” your boyfriend scolded you. “Go touch him. We all know you want to.” 

Yuta’s hand reached for your wrist, and placed your palm on his chest. Your fingers began to work their way down while delicately tracing over his toned abdomen as you admired the tattoos on his body. 

Changkyun grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled back so you had to make eye contact with Yuta. “Enough teasing. Kiss him.” 

You grabbed Yuta by his belt and pulled him in as close as you could manage while Changkyun’s hands settled at your waist. It started off slow, with the way Yuta had his lips pressed against yours, but it wasn’t enough. You needed him to know that you were serious when you declared just how desperate you were, your tongue darting out to drag along the seam of Yuta’s lips, silently begging him to open his mouth. For a moment Changkyun watched you make out with his friend before he grew impatient and worked at taking your pants off.

“Keep going.” 

The cool air was welcome against your warm body, with the way Yuta’s tongue worked with yours and how your boyfriend’s fingers worked their way between your thighs. Changkyun pushed his fingers harder against your core, restricted by your panties. Frustrated, you pulled away from Yuta and rested your head on his shoulder.

“One of you needs to do something. I can’t take this.”

The two men made a great team, and helped undress you. Changkyun took a step back, to undress himself in what you were sure was record time. He was a sight you knew you would never get sick of seeing, his defined abs, and the way his cock glistened with precum. It drove you insane.

“Bed. Yuta, undress. Make it quick.”

Changkyun sat up against the headboard and instructed you to sit down in front of him and helped drape your legs over his own. There was a clear exchange between the two males, but you weren’t able to make it out without being able to see Changkyun’s face. Yuta smirked in reply and lowered himself between your legs, and without warning sucked your clit into his mouth. Your hand flew to his head and grabbed a fistful of his dark red hair, to use as leverage while your hips moved against his face.

“Fuck. Yuta.” 

“Don’t be shy, Yuta, use your fingers too.” Changkyun’s instruction also doubled as a friendly reminder that he was there as well. Yuta sucked two of his fingers into his mouth before teasing them at your entrance.

Yuta looked up at his friend, “help me out.”

Changkyun brought his hands to your breasts and ran his thumb over your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, working with Yuta as he worked two fingers into you. 

“Want a third one, baby?”

Changkyun snapped. “You don’t get to call her that.” The way you clenched down on Yuta’s did not go unnoticed, and only encouraged him further.

“Aw. She likes that possessive side of you.” Yuta continued curling his fingers while he moved up to eye level with you. He worked his fingers even harder into your cunt, the sight of your back arching making his cock twitch. 

“You’re so selfish. Not even giving your boyfriend any attention.” 

“Fuck me. Please.”

As much as he enjoyed himself, Yuta was so glad to hear those words from you. Your body relaxed into Changkyun’s as Yuta pulled his fingers out, and held them up. 

“Who wants to do the honours?”

Before you could process what Yuta asked, you reached for his hands to suck his fingers clean. “Changkyun is one lucky bastard. Now turn around and suck him off.”

You rolled your eyes, “so demanding, damn.”

While you were still able to think straight, you listened to what Yuta had to say. Changkyun grabbed his cock to guide towards your mouth, dragging it along your lips. Your tongue came out to lick at the slit of your boyfriend’s cock before sucking the head. Yuta placed his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to take Changkyun deeper.

“That’s it- babe,” Changkyun thrusted his hips up, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “More tongue.” 

You pulled your head back, using your tongue to lick as much of Changkyun’s cock as you could. Yuta’s hand never left your head and pushed your head down once again.

Changkyun had to pull himself away. “You two need to stop or I’m going to cum.”

You sat back to rest on your knees and wiped your mouth clean of saliva. “That’s the whole point.” 

“Get on top of him, I’m going to fuck you now.”

Changkyun raised an eyebrow, confused about the position Yuta was about to put you in, but brushed it aside and used the opportunity to take your nipple in his mouth. Yuta grabbed a hold of his cock and rubbed it against your clit.

“You two can keep doing what you’re doing, but lay back Changkyun.” You followed Changkyun’s mouth, falling forward, which gave Yuta perfect access to slide his cock into you. Once Yuta finally had his cock buried deep in your cunt, he placed a hand on your hip, to push you down onto Changkyun, your clit perfectly aligned with the underside of your boyfriend’s cock.

“Do you think he’s jealous?” Yuta asked as he moved his hips back, ready to slam his hips back into you. “That it’s my cock buried in your pussy and not his?” Both you and Changkyun let out a moan with the way Yuta pressed your bodies together. “I bet you could take both of us right now.” 

The sweat dripping off his body, your cunt dragging along Changkyun’s cock, clit catching with every passing movement had brought him closer to the orgasm he was trying so desperately to fight off. The new experience, Changkyun wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off.

“Baby- I’m clo-I’m gonna-.”

“Not. Yet.” Yuta used the opportunity to thrust into you to punctuate his words. “Me. First.” 

The demand from Yuta had you clenching down on his cock. “Fuck baby. That feels so good. Do it again.” You met Yuta halfway, slamming your hips back into his as you grip his cock one final time. Changkyun wrapped his arms around you to pull you away from his friend.

“I told you not to call her that.”

Yuta moved away to the other side of the bed, his cock in hand while he watched Changkyun’s possessive side come to life. You were sure you heard Yuta say ‘you’re welcome’ but that wasn’t important. The way your boyfriend flipped you over onto your back and threw your legs over his shoulders was so much more important. Yuta wanted nothing more than to scatter hickeys across your chest and maybe roll his tongue across your nipples, but there was no way Changkyun would go for that. So, he sat there and stroked his cock while watching his friend fuck you as hard as you could take it.

Chankyun’s hand came to your throat and applied slight pressure, knowing damn well that it would send you over the edge. “You’re fucking mine.”

The two males watch in awe as your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolled back, back arched as you scream out Changkyun’s name. Yuta was the last to finish, cum coating his cock and stomach. Which was exactly what he wanted for you, for your boyfriend’s possessive side to come out just a little bit more. Changkyun relaxed, his cock softening inside of you while the two of you tried to regulate your breathing. You turned your head to thank your evening’s guest.

“No problem. Let me know if you’re down to do it again.”

“Never,” Changkyun replied through heavy breaths. “Thank you, Yuta. You can leave now.” Changkyun placed his hand under your chin, pushing up. “I’m not done with you yet.”

taglist: @leejenoenthusiast and a big thanks to @spacequokka for beta reading

[belleeebelleee]

“Do you want me to beg? Is that what this is?”

It’s not flirting anymore.

It hasn’t been for a while.

It’s tension that sits between you like a live wire — humming, dangerous, unavoidable.

You and Changkyun have been circling each other for months. Almost touching. Almost saying it. Almost crossing that line.

But you’re scared.

And he’s tired.

Tonight, it finally breaks.

You’re in his studio again — the same place this always seems to happen. The lights are low, the air thick with the faint scent of coffee and something darker that’s just him. He’s leaning back against the desk, watching you with that unreadable expression he hides behind when he feels too much.

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“So are you.”

“That’s because I’m thinking.”

You try to laugh it off. “That sounds ominous.”

“It is.”

Your stomach flips.

You shift your weight, pretending to look at something on the screen. You can feel his eyes on you — heavy, searching. You know what he wants. You know what you want.

But wanting is terrifying.

“I don’t get you,” he says finally.

Your heart stutters. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He pushes off the desk and steps closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to make it impossible to ignore.

“You look at me like you want something,” he says quietly. “Like you’re about to say something. And then you don’t.”

You swallow.

“That’s not—”

“It feels like you’re playing with me.”

“I’m not playing,” you say quickly.

“Then what is this?” His voice tightens. “Because I’m starting to feel stupid.”

You shake your head. “You’re not.”

“Then why do you pull away every time it gets close to being something?”

Because if it’s something, you can lose it.

Because if it’s something, you can get hurt.

Because you’ve done this before and it didn’t end well.

But you don’t say any of that.

He steps even closer now. Close enough that your breath mixes. Close enough that your pulse betrays you.

“Do you want me to beg?” he asks suddenly, frustration threading through the words. “Is that what this is?”

Your eyes widen.

He laughs once, bitter and self-aware. “Because I will. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“I’m not waiting for you to beg,” you whisper.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look at him — really look at him. The tension in his jaw. The way his hands flex like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

“I’m scared,” you admit.

The anger in his expression falters.

“Of me?”

“No,” you say immediately. “Of this.”

Silence stretches between you.

He searches your face, like he’s trying to decide whether to believe you.

“You’re not playing with me?” he asks, softer now. Vulnerable in a way he hates being.

“No.”

Something shifts in him.

He steps into you this time, and your back nearly brushes the desk. His hand lifts — slow, deliberate — hovering at your waist like he’s still giving you time to stop this.

“Then don’t make me beg,” he whispers.

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt before you can overthink it.

“I won’t.”

That’s all it takes.

His hand slides to your waist, firm now, grounding. He leans down and the kiss isn’t rushed — it’s not desperate — but it’s everything you’ve been holding back.

Careful at first.

Then sure.

His other hand comes up to cradle the side of your face like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on. Your hands grip his shirt tighter, anchoring yourself to him.

When you pull back, it’s only because breathing becomes necessary.

His forehead rests against yours. His thumb brushes lightly over your hip, like he’s confirming you’re still here.

“I don’t do halfway,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

His lips ghost over yours again, softer this time.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because I’m not letting you run anymore.”

And for the first time in months, you don’t try to.

[nikiducks]

BANANA BAMBI ⟡ (Fruit Series) 1

PAIRING : idol lee heeseung x f. reader ; established bf/gf relationship

GENRE : fluff turned smut 21+ ⤷ do not interact if you’re underage!ˎˊ˗ WARNING : includes ; sub reader, dom hee, hee is h*rny asf, yearning, daddy k*nk, touching, stimulation, kissing, making out, begging, pushing, aggression, dirty talk, neck biting, spontaneous s*x, semi public s*x, size k*nk, banana size d*ck, elevator head, spitting, salivating, oral s*x (m.receiving), gagging, c*mming on face, c*mming on outfit, c*m swallowing, c*m licking, satisfied reader, satisfied hee, how did we not get caught?

SYNOPSIS : after a grueling three-week separation due to his solo comeback schedule, you arrive at the HYBE building late at night to pick up your boyfriend, Heeseung. Though you have plans for a romantic dinner, the intense chemistry and lingering tension from a dirty phone call the night before quickly takes over. Caught in a wave of mutual desire, you end up giving in to the overwhelming temptation right inside the empty HYBE elevator.

The fluorescent lights of the HYBE parking garage glowed softly as you pulled into your usual spot on the lower level. It was just past 9:00 PM, and the heavy, buzzing energy that usually consumed the building during the day had settled into a quiet, post-work lull. You switched off the ignition and checked your reflection in the rearview mirror. You’d put some serious effort into your look tonight. Your long, dark curls fell perfectly over your shoulders, framing your face with just the right amount of makeup—fresh, glowing, and effortless. You adjusted the straps of your cropped knit top, smoothing down your dark-wash, high-waisted jeans that hugged your curves in all the right places. Slipping into a pair of sleek, strappy heels, you grabbed your designer Prada shoulder bag, feeling a familiar flutter of excitement in your chest.

Stepping out of the car, you swiped your security pass at the private elevator entrance. HYBE had practically become a second home to you over the years. You’d been by Heeseung’s side through the intense highs of his ENHYPEN days, and now, you were still navigating this thrilling new chapter with him as a soloist. He was charting his own path now, officially debuting under his English name, EVAN.

The elevator doors chimed open, and you stepped inside, pulling out your phone to text him.

💬 You: Just parked! Downstairs, heading up to you now!

A minute later, your phone buzzed in your palm.

💬 Evan ❤️: Perfect timing. I'm on the 4th floor wrapping up with the producer, just grabbing my things. Come on up.

💬 You: On my way up, see you in a second 💋

As the elevator began its smooth ascent to the fourth floor, the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You hadn't seen him in person for three agonizing weeks due to the brutal schedule of his solo preparation. Three weeks of FaceTime calls, brief texts between dance practices, and...

Your cheeks instantly flushed hot as a vivid memory from just twenty-four hours ago flooded your mind. The low, raspy gravel in his voice over the phone line. The unfiltered, breathless words he whispered into your ear when the distance became too much to bear.

"God, I miss your pussy so much... Daddy misses his babygirl. Just wait until I get my hands on you tomorrow..."

You bit your lip, a shiver running straight down your spine. You instinctively smoothed down your jeans, trying to cool your racing thoughts. Get it together, you told yourself, letting out a breathy laugh. You're just grabbing dinner…So you thought…

*Ding*

The elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor, breaking your trance. The hallway was largely deserted, except for a couple of late-night staff members whispering as they headed toward the exit. You walked with a confident click-clack of your heels down the corridor, eventually stopping near a lounge area with a sleek leather couch. Leaning back against the wall, you checked your reflection in the glass paneling one last time, tossing your curls over your shoulder, just patiently waiting.

A moment later, the heavy door of a recording studio down the hall clicked open.

"Yeah, let's tweak that bridge tomorrow morning. Good work tonight, bro," a deep, heartbreakingly familiar voice echoed down the hall.

You straightened up immediately. Then, Heeseung turned the corner. He looked unfairly handsome, as you examined him quickly—dressed casually in a loose black tee and baggy, grey-wash cargo jeans that buttoned up the sides. On his wrist, a watch and a matching bracelet caught the hallway light. His grown out bleached blonde hair was charmingly messy from running his hands through it all day, and a tan and blue cap was clutched in his hand. As he turned his head, you noticed a single AirPod still in his ear, framing his cute little silver hoop earrings.

He looked left, then right, his eyes scanning the corridor until they locked right onto you. In an instant, all the fatigue vanished from his face. His big doe eyes lit up with pure, unadulterated adoration, a breathtaking smile breaking across his lips.

"Baby!" He called out, his voice a low, joyful rumble that echoed in the empty hallway.

You didn't care about being proper, and you didn't care about the heels. You broke into a half-run toward him, the distance between you vanishing in seconds. He dropped his bag straight to the floor, opening his arms wide just as you launched yourself into him. He caught you effortlessly, lifting you slightly off your feet as his strong arms wrapped securely around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. The familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin filled your senses, finally erasing the weeks of longing in a single, breathless embrace.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a sudden, intense heat. Before you could even catch your breath, his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your curls as he leaned down and claimed your lips. The kiss was deep, hungry, and full of a desperate, weeks-long yearning. It lasted for several breathless seconds, his lips smacking against yours with a possessive wet rhythm that made your knees go weak in your heels. When he finally broke away, he let out a low exhale against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

"I’ve missed you so much," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. He stepped back a fraction, his hands sliding down to your waist as his eyes traveled down, thoroughly examining your outfit. A slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. He gently took your hand and spun you around in a slow circle, taking in the details of your ensemble and the way that it hugged your body just right.

When you faced him again, he was biting his bottom lip, his eyes in awe. "Baby... I am so underdressed," he groaned, looking down at his own fit, then back up at you. "You look incredible. Seriously."

You giggled, stepping back into his space and letting your hands rest on his thick chest. "Thank you," you smiled softly, your fingers trailing a path to the collar of his black tee. You gently scratched the edge of his neck with your manicured nail, leaning in close to tease him. "And don't worry about it. You always look good anyways. And you know I love it when you wear this style.

The word dropped between you like a spark on dry kindling. Heeseung’s breath hitched, a sudden flush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheeks. A familiar, heat flared in his eyes, a dangerous mix of shyness and instant arousal. "I know," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he looked at your lips. "That’s exactly why I wore this. Because I knew I was finally seeing you today."

You smirked, leaning up to press one more soft lingering kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he let out a ragged breath, looking completely flustered. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying and failing to cool down. "Baby, stop," he pleaded, a helpless laugh escaping him as he looked around the empty hallway. "You can’t tease me like that. I’m already craving you so badly, and we're still in the building. I'm trying to be good." He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, though his eyes were still scanning your body, which reminded him.

"Actually, before we go... I need a huge favor."

"Anything," you replied, tilting your head.

"I need to take some pictures to post on Instagram, my fans are gonna want another update from me," he explained, giving your hand a soft, persuasive squeeze. "And you know you take the best pictures of me."

"Of course I will," you smiled. "Where do you want to do them?"

"Follow me." He scooped his bag off the floor with one hand, keeping his other hand firmly locked with yours. He led you down a connecting corridor, through a heavy set of double doors that separated the main studios from a quieter wing of the building where the lighting was much sharper and brighter.

The aesthetic was perfect—minimalist, sleek, and bathed in a clean, bright glow. He stopped in the middle of the hall and unlocked his phone, handing it over to you. "Okay, baby. I’ll be quick, I only need a few good ones," he said, stepping back into the light.

"Alright, pose. I got you," you said, raising the camera.

Heeseung immediately fell into his element, yet managed to keep it completely casual. He knelt down against the wall, opting for that effortless, "off-guard" vibe. He ran a quick hand through his hair, adjusted his pants, and looked away from the lens with a perfectly practiced expression of cool indifference. But looking at him through the screen was doing dangerous things to your focus. He looked incredibly good—the sharp line of his jaw, the casual confidence of his posture, the way his broad shoulders filled out his tee. As you snapped a few candid shots, your mind traitorously drifted back to the night before. You could still hear his breathless voice over the phone, promising exactly what he was going to do to you the moment he had you alone. The memory made a sudden wave of heat pool in your stomach, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from spacing out completely.

What you didn’t realize was that Heeseung was having the exact same problem.

As he shifted poses, his eyes locked onto you holding the phone. Seeing you standing there in those heels, your curls bouncing slightly, looking completely sexy and ethereal in the bright hallway lighting... it hit him like a physical wave. The butterflies in his stomach went wild. He completely forgot about the camera, his gaze drifting over your body, utterly captivated by your aura. He was totally daydreaming, his expression softening into a blank, lovestruck stare.

You blinked, noticing through the screen that he had frozen completely. You lowered the phone slightly, pouting your lips at him.

"Baby? You okay?" You teased, waving a hand. "Hey, you’re not posing for me anymore..."

Heeseung snapped out of it instantly. Realizing he had just been caught practically drooling over you, he immediately tucked his head down, burying his face in between his arms as a deep, bright crimson rushed across his cheeks.

*Click*

You burst out laughing, quickly snapping a picture of his absolute embarrassment. "Got it! That one's going in my private collection."

"Aish, no, delete that," he groaned playfully, standing up and shaking his head. To cover up his embarrassment he threw on his snapback, pulling the brim down slightly to hide his blushing face. He chuckled, a mix of defeat and affection in his voice as he walked back over to you. "Okay... I think we got enough. If we stay here any longer, we're never gonna make it to dinner."

Heeseung stepped closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he took his phone back. His other knuckles grazed your cheek, his touch warm and lingering. "Thank you for the pictures, baby," he murmured, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

"It’s nothing," you replied softly, looking up at him through your lashes with a playful smile. "You know I’d do anything for you."

The second those words left your lips, Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat. You were just being sweet, but to him, it sounded like an invitation. He felt a sudden, heavy throb between his thighs, his baggy jeans suddenly feeling entirely “too tight” as a hard ache began to press against the fabric. God, what kind of power does she have over me? He thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. You weren't even trying, yet you were completely, unintentionally irresistible. Or maybe he was just losing his mind because he’d starved for your touch for three weeks.

You noticed the exact moment his gaze shifted, his pupils dilating as he looked at you. You pretended not to catch on, suppressing a knowing smirk. You wanted to rile him up just enough so that by the time you got home after dinner, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you. But Heeseung was already losing the battle. He suddenly looked down at his own crotch, his eyes widening slightly as he felt his boner growing rapidly, pushing visibly against his pants. Shocked by how fast and hard it was hitting him, he swiftly took a sharp step back, ducking completely behind the heavy door frame of the hallway partition.

You blinked, suddenly caught off guard. "Evan? What’s wrong?"

He was always goofy and loved making you laugh, but this was just strange. You didn't realize the sheer scale of the problem he was currently dealing with. Heeseung was panicking. It wasn't just a little flutter—he was fully, noticeably hard, and the absolute last thing he needed was to walk through the HYBE building, past security or late-night staff, with a massive bulge in his pants. It really felt like you had cast some kind of spell on him. From behind the door frame, Heeseung took a deep, steadying breath, trying to force his heart rate down. "Nothing! Nothing's wrong," he choked out, his voice a little strained. He poked his head back out, his face still flushed, but he forced a tight, boyish smile. "Okay, let’s get going before it gets too late. The restaurant is still open and our private room is still reserved."

"Okay…sure," you giggled, shaking your head at his antics as you walked toward him.

He didn't wait. He immediately took the lead, his large hand gripping yours tightly as he practically hauled you toward the main elevator bank. He was walking fast, his eyes darting down the intersecting corridors, scanning the area like a man on a mission to make sure the coast was entirely clear. He looked back at you over his shoulder, a sudden, dark, mischievous glint in his eyes. He accelerated his pace even more. "Evan, wait! I have heels on," you gasped, a breathy laugh escaping you as you hurried to keep up with his long strides, the click-clack of your shoes echoing sharply.

"I know, I'm sorry, just a few more steps," he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.

His body was completely betraying him now. The restriction of the public building, the memory of the phone call, the scent of your perfume, and the heavy ache in his jeans were converging into a wave of pure, intrusive thoughts. The perverted, desperate side of his mind was winning, obliterating his self-control. You reached the elevator bank, and he aggressively jabbed the button. Because it was late, the elevator car was already idling on the fourth floor. The heavy metal doors slid open instantly.

Before the doors could even fully settle, Heeseung gripped your waist, his large hands sinking into your skin as he carefully but firmly guided you inside, backing you straight into the elevator car. You backed up until your spine hit the mirrored back wall. Heeseung stepped in right after you, letting his bag drop heavily to the floor. Without taking his eyes off you, his hand blindly reached out and slammed the close-door button, followed by the garage level. The doors sealed shut, locking the two of you into the small, metallic space. The atmosphere instantly shifted, turning thick, heavy, and suffocatingly hot. Heeseung didn't stand beside you. Instead, he stepped directly into your personal space, pressing his tall body flush against yours, trapping you completely between the cold mirror and the intense heat of his chest.

Your hands came up to rest against his broad shoulders, the thick fabric of his shirt warm beneath your palms. You looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, genuinely confused but completely breathless. "Heeseung, wait... what are you doing?" He didn't answer with words. He just leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes dilated so heavily they looked almost black. He was completely done waiting. The thought of driving to a restaurant, sitting through a meal, and playing the part of a polite celebrity was completely dead to him. He was starving, but not for food.

A sudden wave of heat crashed over you as he crowded you deeper into the corner of the elevator. He caged you in, one large hand slamming against the mirrored wall right next to your head, his tall frame completely blocking out the rest of the world. You weren't shy about him—you knew every inch of his body—but the sheer boldness of doing this here, in the HYBE building, made your stomach do flips.

"Baby, hold on," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked toward the flashing floor numbers. "We can’t do this here. Are you insane? We could get caught by security, or staff, or—"

As soon as the words left your mouth, Heeseung’s intense expression shifted into a heavy, devastating pout. He dropped his head slightly, looking down at you with those wide, sorrowful Bambi eyes that he knew you could never resist. "Are you serious right now?" He murmured, his voice dropping into a low whine. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Just twenty-four hours ago, you were literally begging for me on the phone. You told me how much you wanted me. You told me you wanted me to eat you alive the second I saw you... and now you're acting like you forgot?"

"Baby, I didn’t forget what I said," you blushed furiously, your chest heaving as you tried to keep your voice down. "But we can handle it at home! Not here. This is your job." Heeseung pouted even deeper, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. "We’re always spontaneous. Why do we have to wait? Let’s just do it right now. Right here."

Your face went entirely hot. His sheer audacity was completely catching you off guard, sending a thrilling, dangerous jolt straight to your thighs. You wanted to give in. You always gave in to him, and God knew you hadn't forgotten a single filthy word whispered over the phone the night before. Sensing your resolve weakening, Heeseung took advantage. He moved his body completely flush against yours, pressing his weight forward. He let out a low, ragged groan as he intentionally rubbed his crotch right against your hip, the friction through his pants sending a visible shiver through his core. He was getting harder and more desperate by the second.

"Please, baby," he begged, his voice dropping into a needy, breathless rasp. He reached down, grabbing your wrist with a firm but gentle grip, and guided your hand down between your bodies. "Just feel what you do to me. Look at what you did."

He pressed your palm directly against the front of his pants. Your eyes went wide, your breath catching completely in your throat. You were utterly baffled. Even through the fabric, he was shockingly hard, thick, and demanding, pulsing right against your skin. The sheer size of him took your breath away, and a heavy, familiar ache immediately bloomed between your own legs. You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with a mixture of yearning and panic. "Baby... we can’t," you gasped, though your fingers involuntarily twitched against him, testing his weight. "I'm serious, the elevator might open."

"I don't care," Heeseung whispered against your lips, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pushed himself harder into your palm. A dangerous, possessive smirk tugged at the corner of his lips despite his desperation. "You know you want me, babygirl. You said you did. Don't lie to me now."

Your fingers brushed against the taut fabric of his jeans, finally latching onto the metal tab of his zipper. The moment you touched it, Heeseung let out a low, shaky exhale. He covered your hand with his own huge palm, applying a firm, heavy pressure to force your hand down, pulling the zipper down ever so slowly. The deliberate, agonizing friction of the tracks parting made your heart thrump wildly against your ribs. He leaned back just an inch, looking down at you with a gaze that was heavy, dark, and predatory. He locked eyes with you, his gaze dropping to your lips—glossy, parted, and completely flushed with need. "Fuck," you whispered, the curse slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

You couldn't fight it anymore. You let your designer bag slip completely off your shoulder, hearing it thud softly against his own bag on the floor. You were entirely done playing “good”. The moment he realized you had broken, Heeseung let out a dark growl and lunged. His mouth crashed onto yours with a desperate, wild hunger. Your tongues tangled immediately, a deep, slobbering, frantic make-out session that echoed loudly in the enclosed metal space. He tasted like mint and pure heat. Before you could even process the intensity of the kiss, Heeseung’s hands slid down to the undersides of your thighs. With one powerful heave, he lifted you completely off the ground. You instinctively wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, the heels of your shoes hooking behind his back as your arms locked securely around his neck. He slammed you back against the mirrored wall, the cold glass a sharp, shocking contrast against your overheated skin. He broke the kiss, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck. He began biting and sucking at the sensitive skin right beneath your jaw, leaving dark, possessive marks as his hips aggressively grounded up against your pussy through your jeans.

A loud, breathless moan tore from your throat.

Instantly, Heeseung’s palm came up, covering your mouth to muffle the sound, his thick fingers cupping your jaw. "Shh, baby," he hot-breathed against your skin, his chest heaving as he continued to suck a dark bruise into your collarbone. "Someone might hear you." The restriction only made the pleasure sharper, your muffled whimpers vibrating against his hand as his hips rolled into yours.

When he finally pulled back to breathe, his eyes were completely glazed over. He let you down gently, your feet sliding back onto the floor, your knees slightly weak. But you weren't stopping now. Grabbing the soft fabric of his tee, you forcefully pushed him back against the wall. Heeseung let out a breathy chuckle, his back hitting the mirror as he looked down at you, surprised and thoroughly turned on by your sudden dominance. Slow and deliberate, you dropped down onto your knees in front of him on the elevator floor. Your dark curls tumbled over your shoulders as you reached out and fully zipped his pants down to the base. Above you, Heeseung let out a long, ragged groan, his head tilting back against the glass. "There she is," he whispered, his voice a gravelly, trembling rasp. "Look at you... on your knees for me. I knew you wanted my cock between those pretty lips."

You looked up at him through your lashes, batting your eyes innocently as a wicked smile tugged at your lips. "It’s my favorite," you murmured, nodding honestly. You didn't waste another second. Your hands gripped the waistband of his pants, pulling them down just below his hips. Then, sliding your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, you hooked them and pulled them down soon after. Free from the restriction, his cock immediately sprang out, slinging heavily right in front of your face.

Your breath caught completely, your chest freezing as you stared at him. Up close, it was breathtaking. He was long, thick, and fully engorged, veins pulsing visibly along the shaft with a slight, natural downward curve. It looked incredibly intimidating and perfect under the harsh elevator lights.

"Oh my god..." you whispered, your voice completely awestruck as you leaned in closer, admiring the sheer size of him, the heat radiating from his skin hitting your face.

Heeseung chuckled, a low, vibration of sound that rattled in his chest. He hooked two fingers under your chin, gently tilting your face up so your eyes met his. "What’s wrong, babygirl?" He murmured, a confident, slightly wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Cat got your tongue?"

You swallowed hard, trying to conjure up actual words. It wasn’t like you hadn't seen him before—you knew his body intimately—but tonight, after weeks of agonizing anticipation, it felt entirely different. It looked thicker, longer, and completely monstrous in the confined space of the elevator. You always prided yourself on satisfying him completely, but looking at him right now, you realized you had walked into a situation that was going to test your limits.

Heeseung let out a sharp breath, his fingers sliding away from your chin down to his own length. He wrapped his hand around himself, giving a slow, heavy stroke that caused a bead of pre-cum to appear at the tip, his veins pulsing visibly. The sheer visual sparked something inside you. Your initial shock vanished, replaced by a sudden surge of pride and desire. You weren't going to back down, and you certainly weren't going to let him think he intimidated you. Reaching up, you firmly gripped his wrist and pushed his hand out of the way. Heeseung raised his eyebrows, thoroughly amused and captivated by your sudden shift in attitude. Leaning in close, you opened your mouth and spat a thick pool of saliva directly onto the head of his cock. As you pulled back slightly, long, clear strings of saliva remained attached to the tip, glistening under the fluorescent lights.

"Ah... fuck," Heeseung hissed, his head snapping back as he grabbed the metal railing behind him with both hands, his knuckles turning white. The cold, wet contrast against his burning skin made his thighs twitch. You didn't give him time to recover. Matching his boldness, you wrapped both of your hands softly around his warm, pulsing base. You leaned forward, dragging your tongue up the underside of the shaft, teasing the sensitive tip just to hear him groan. Then, opening wide, you pushed forward and took the swollen head and the first few inches of him deep into your throat.

The heat inside the elevator was suffocating, thick with the sharp scent of his cologne and the heavy, wet rhythm of your mouth moving over him. Your pink, glossy lips slicked his skin as you took him in and out, your tongue swirling intentionally around the broad, sensitive ridge of his head. He was pulsing frantically against your tongue, so thick that every wet swipe made his entire frame shudder. Heeseung let out a high, fractured whine, his head thrashing against the mirrored wall. His hands gripped the metal railing so tightly his forearm veins stood out in sharp relief.

You paused for a fraction of a second, pulling back just enough to let the wet length slip past your lips, leaving him glistening right in your hands. You looked up at him, your eyes dark and heavy. "You like when I do that, daddy?" You whispered, your voice a breathless, deliberate taunt.

"Yes... fuck yes, baby," he gasped, his chest heaving under his tee as he stared down at you, completely undone. "Keep going. Please..."

As he spoke, a thick drop his of c*m leaked from his tip, falling to the floor. The sight of his own desperation made him impatient; his hips twitched forward instinctively, silently begging you to take him back. You didn't make him wait. Bracing your hands firmly against his thighs, you opened wide and buried him deep into your mouth again. This time, you pushed past your usual limit, sliding his long, curved length further down until your throat clamped tightly around him. You began to bob your head freehandedly in a agonizingly wet manner.

Heeseung’s knees buckled instantly. The intense, slippery friction of your throat opening and closing around him was too much to bear. A choked scream tore from his throat, and his hand flew up, aggressively clamping over his own mouth to muffle the sound before it could echo outside the elevator doors. Driven by the sound of his muffled distress, you slid your hands up beneath your the hem of his shirt, your palms pressing flat against his warm, bare abs. You could feel his lower abdomen contracting and seizing violently with every thrust. Sliding your hands down to his hips, you dug your fingers into his waist, pulling his pelvis forward to anchor him steadily as you sucked him even harder.

The elevator was filled with the loud, slippery, sloppy sounds of your mouth working over him. Saliva and pre-cum pooled quickly, coating his entire shaft and making every stroke incredibly slick and sticky. Heeseung was completely at your mercy, his hips rolling into your mouth in a desperate, uncoordinated motion as he teetered right on the edge of his climax. The curve of his length hit the very back of your throat with a powerful, unyielding pressure, triggering a sudden, deep gag reflex. Your eyes watered instantly, a tight choke escaping your throat as you tried to maintain the flow.

Up above, Heeseung let out a dark, ragged breath, his chest swelling with a dangerous mixture of pride and pure arousal. He loved this—loved that you would push yourself right to the absolute limit just to satisfy him, and he loved even more how much you thrived on doing it. Slowly, his large hand slid into your dark curls, his fingers tangling tightly at the top of your head as he began to gently but firmly guide your movements, forcing you to deep throat him harder, deeper, and faster.

He literally melted against the glass, his eyes rolled back as the suction pushed him past the point of no return. "Don't you fucking stop," he rasped, his voice dropping into a desperate, commanding growl. "Aishh! Right there, right fucking there!" Obeying him instantly, you kept your head bobbing, the slickness creating a creamy, echoing mess in the small space. A heavy mixture of saliva and warm pre-cum began to overflow, dripping out the corners of your shiny lips and sliding down your chin, trailing damp lines down the column of your neck.

Heeseung looked down through hooded eyes, his breath hitching at the sight. "Yeah, baby... look at you," he panted, a dark, low chuckle vibrating in his throat. "You love being daddy’s little cum catcher, don't you?" Your mouth was completely full, suffocating under his weight, but you managed a low, deep “mhm” in agreement. The thick vibration of your throat hummed directly against his sensitive shaft. Heeseung moaned at the sensation, his hips grinding forcefully into your face as a couple of tears finally spilled over your eyelashes and rolled down your burning cheeks. He was just too big, the natural curve of his cock pressing painfully perfect against your tonsils, but the sheer pleasure radiating from him kept you alive.

His moans were starting to sound like a melody—sweet, high, and completely breathless, full of an ungodly amount of satisfaction and raw pleasure. You let out a small, muffled whine as your mouth began to fill to the brim, the pressure building behind his hips. "Okay, baby... okay," Heeseung gasped out, his knuckles turning a bruising red as he moved his hands back onto the metal railing, using it as leverage to thrust his hips in a final, frantic jerk. "I want you to swallow it all for me, okay? Holy shit... I'm cum—I'm cumming, baby—"

You gave a slight, desperate nod, batting your wet eyelashes up at him as the tight ache in your throat reached its peak. Heeseung’s back arched off the glass, his head snapping back as his moans went pitchy, completely losing control of his voice. "Fuck! Fuck! Ahhhhh…" He screamed into the “empty” elevator, the sheer volume of his orgasm ripping through him. Luckily, the building was dead silent around you, because he definitely couldn’t hold anything back now. A thick, hot wave of semen shot straight into the back of your throat. You sucked down as hard as you could, your throat swallowing harshly, trying to catch the heavy, sweet bursts as his knees buckled completely.

Sensing you were at your absolute limit, Heeseung suddenly pulled his length out of your mouth with a wet pop. The moment he was free, his hand gripped his own base, and he let out one last, shuddering groan as the remaining thick ropes of c*m shot right at you, splattering heavily across your red cheeks, your chin, and dripping down onto the front of your top. You kept your mouth open, tilting your head up to try and catch the pearly white spurts, your breath coming in ragged, shallow pants like a dog thirsty for water. Heeseung stood frozen for a few long seconds, his chest expanding and contracting with heavy, shuddering breaths as the intense waves of his orgasm finally began to recede. The gripping tension in his thighs loosened, and he finally gathered the strength to look down at you. You were still on your knees on the elevator floor, a complete and beautiful mess, just for him. You slowly lifted a hand, your fingertips tracing the warm, thick paths of white fluid coating your cheeks and chin. Lowering your gaze, you looked down at the dark, wet splatters deeply soaking into the fabric of your new knit top, completely ruining it.

A low, deep rumble of a chuckle escaped Heeseung’s throat. He leaned his head back against the glass, looking down at you through hooded, thoroughly satisfied eyes. "Aw, baby..." he cooed, his voice a lazy, post-nut rasp. "Daddy completely ruined your outfit for dinner tonight." You let out a soft huff, a tiny pout forming on your lips. A part of you was slightly disappointed because you’d put so much time into your hair, makeup, and clothes just to look good for him after weeks apart. But looking up at his completely dazed, blissed-out expression, any real annoyance melted away. You were more than okay with the fact that you had completely leveled him.

Locking your eyes firmly with his, you used your index finger to wipe a thick streak of cum from your jawline, bringing it to your mouth, deliberately licking it off your skin. As you finished, you placed a hand on his thigh, preparing to push yourself up from the floor. "Ah-ah," Heeseung murmured, his hand immediately coming down to rest on your shoulder, holding you in place. His dark eyes glinted with a lingering, possessive heat. "You don’t get off your knees until I say so, babygirl." You paused, your breath hitching slightly, and gave a submissive nod, completely obeying his command. The thrill of his dominance sent a shiver right back through your skin.

Heeseung looked down at you, clearly amazed and deeply turned on by how obedient you continued to be. He took his now-softening dick in one hand, using his index and middle fingers of the other to swipe the thick, leftover dollop of cum right from his tip. He leaned down and pressed those two slick fingers directly against your lips, forcing them into your mouth. You opened up without hesitation, swirling your tongue around his fingers to suck them entirely clean, the sucking sound echoing softly. He let out a low grunt of pure approval, sliding his thick fingers out of your mouth, though he kept them resting lightly against your chin.

"Gooood girl," he whispered, a proud smile breaking across his face. "Okay... now you can stand."

Even as he gave you permission, he didn't completely let go, his thumb trailing over your lower lip. Your legs were trembling, a little wobbly from the intense position and the adrenaline pumping through your veins. As you struggled slightly to find your footing in your high heels, Heeseung’s free hand quickly caught your waist, his strong grip effortlessly guiding you back up until you were standing flush against him. His eyes never once left yours. When he finally slid his hand away from your face, you could finally breathe normally again.

You immediately pouted up at him again, bringing a fist up to gently smack his chest. "Look at my shirt, Evan," you whined softly, though a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "I spent so long getting ready for you, and you ruined it all." Heeseung wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his unzipped pants, completely unbothered by the mess. He looked down at you with a soft grin, his eyes full of pure adoration. "I'm sorry, baby," he chuckled, leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead. He rubbed the small of your back soothingly. "I completely lost control...”

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm forward so you could check the time on his watch. Your eyes narrowed. It was way past your dinner reservation. You dropped his wrist, shooting his hand back down with a sharp sigh, a genuine flash of irritation crossing your face. "Great. It's way past the reservation. I made that booking days ago, Heeseung…”

"Forgive me, baby. Please, please," he said quickly, his voice softening into that sweet, apologetic tone he reserved only for you. He reached down, carefully tucking his length back into his boxers, pulling his jeans up, and zipping them back into place. "I will reschedule the reservation for tomorrow night, I swear." You rolled your eyes, turning your head away from him. In reality, your anger was already fading, but you loved playing the part of the slightly slighted girlfriend just to rile him back up and keep him on his toes. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he bent down, scooped up his bag, and then carefully picked up your purse. He stepped close, gently draping the leather strap over your shoulder for you.

"I don’t want you upset, y/n," he pleaded softly, stepping into your line of sight. He raised his thumb, leaning in to try and gently wipe away a smudge of smeared mascara from underneath your eye.

"Stop," you muttered, swiping his hand away from your face.

You turned around entirely, facing the metal doors just as the elevator let out a soft ding and the doors slid open to the lower parking garage. You stepped out immediately, the sharp click-clack of your heels echoing loudly through the massive, concrete space. You walked quickly, eager to get to the safety of your car. Even though it was late and dark outside, the parking garage's overhead lights were bright and unyielding, and you didn't want a random security guard catching sight of the wet spots on your top. Behind you, you heard the heavy thud of his bag shifting as Heeseung broke into a jog to catch up. "Wait, y/n! Slow down," he called out, his long strides easily closing the gap.

You pulled your keys from your pocket and pressed the unlock button, the headlights of your car blinking on and cutting through the shadowy garage. Just as you reached the driver's side door, Heeseung caught up to you. Before you could grab the handle, his hands planted firmly on the frame of the car on either side of you, pinning you gently but securely against the vehicle. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, those big Bambi eyes returning to search your face. "You’re not really mad at me, are you?" Looking up at him, it was nearly impossible to maintain the act. He stood there with his snapback slightly crooked, a breathless but hopeful expression on his handsome face. He was literally perfect. You bit your inner cheek, trying to suppress the smile that was threatening to break. "I was mad," you teased, your voice dropping its icy edge as your eyes danced with amusement. "But I guess I'm not anymore... as long as we actually get to have dinner tomorrow night, like you said."

Heeseung’s eyes tracked the small twitch at the corner of your lips, catching on instantly. A brilliant, relieved laugh erupted from his chest, his broad shoulders shaking. "You’re so naughty," he groaned, that beautiful smile taking over his face. He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of absolute love. "Ugh, I love you. And I promise, tomorrow night, we will have dinner. No work, no phones, no distractions."

"You’re gonna keep your promise?" You murmured against his lips.

"I will keep my promise," he reassuringly whispered, breaking the kiss into a flurry of sweet, numerous little pecks all over your face—your lips, your nose, your cheek—making you giggle. While his mouth was distracting you, his hand blindly reached behind your back, grabbing the car door handle and pulling it open.

"And I love you too," you smiled, finally breaking away from his kisses and sliding into the driver's seat.

"Watch your head," he cautioned gently, guiding the top of the door frame as you tucked inside. He shut your door with a solid click, then swiftly jogged around the front of the car to the passenger side. He opened the door, tossing his bag into the back seat before sliding into the leather interior beside you. The car immediately filled with his warmth and the familiar, comforting scent of his presence. You turned the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life. Pulling out of the HYBE parking structure and into the quiet, brightly lit streets of the city, you drove off together, finally heading home for the night.

©️ all images above were captured and edited by me, taken from EVANS Instagram. Dividers by original owners, credits to you. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment. Likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated! I love to write ♡

[nikiducks]

DICK BICYCLE ▶︎ now playing : side to side by Ariana Grande ft. Nicki Minaj

PAIRING : idol yang jungwon x f. reader ; established bf/gf relationship

GENRE : smut 21+ ⤷ do not interact if you’re underage!ˎˊ˗ WARNING : includes ; sub/dom reader, dom won, a lot of dialogue, very detailed!, touching, kissing, stimulation, spitting, praising, encouragement, slight n*pple play, dirty talk, talking through it, size k*nk, unprotected p in v (don’t do it!), d*ck riding, cream pie (“The Bicycle” reversed), c*mming, c*mming inside, c*mming together, dripping c*m, after-care, reassurance, satisfied reader, satisfied won, ride me like a bike baby!

SYNOPSIS : after a late-night bike ride and Weverse live along the Han River, Jungwon makes an impulsive detour to your apartment after weeks apart. The long-awaited reunion quickly ignites into a deeply passionate, breathless night, fueled by a shared desire to make up for the lost time you’ve spent apart. the Weverse Live for reference → x

The midnight breeze coming off the Han River carried a sharp refreshing chill, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. Jungwon sat on a bench just beneath the shadow of the Mapo Bridge underpass, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Dressed in an all-black athletic tech-jacket, matching cargo joggers, blending perfectly into the night.

He tapped his phone screen, adjusting his wireless earbuds. The notification flashed across thousands of screens globally: JUNGWON is LIVE. Within seconds, the comment section exploded into a blur of frantic scrolling.

"Hi, Engene," Jungwon said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate late-night register. He leaned his elbows on his knees, peering into the camera with a small, dimpled smile. "Did you eat? I'm just out clearing my head." The screen flashed with rapid-fire questions. Oppa, where are you? Is that the Han River? Isn't it dangerous this late?

"Yeah, it’s the Han River," he murmured, his gaze momentarily shifting away from the screen. His sharp eyes scanned the perimeter of the underpass, watching a distant couple walking their dog and a jogger pacing by. Even in the dark, the instinct of an idol never truly turned off. "Don't worry, I'm being careful. It's really quiet tonight. There's almost no one around."

Just as the words left his mouth, the distant echo of heavy footsteps and loud laughter bounced off the concrete walls of the underpass. A small group of late-night tech workers walked into view further up the path, heading in his direction.

A sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline hit Jungwon's chest. He couldn't risk being recognized out here alone, especially while actively broadcasting his exact location to thousands of people. Acting on pure instinct, Jungwon seamlessly shifted his posture. He leaned forward into the phone, tapping his wireless earbud as if adjusting a bad connection, and intentionally looked away from the group. He dropped his voice into a casual, conversational tone, completely pretending he was on a regular phone call rather than streaming live.

"Ah, yeah? Did you just finish work?" He said aloud into the empty air, his acting flawless as he casually propped his phone up against his bike helmet to keep the camera angled safely away from the path. He kept his eyes locked away from the approaching group, tracking their movements in his peripheral view as they walked past. "Have you eaten yet? I was thinking about grabbing something on the way back..." The group walked right past his bench, entirely oblivious. To them, he was just another ordinary guy in athletic clothes chatting with a friend late at night. Once their shadows faded into the distance and their voices died down, Jungwon let out a quiet, invisible breath of relief. He leaned forward, bringing his face back into the camera frame with a small, knowing smirk at how easily he’d handled the close call, swiftly resuming to read the live comments.

Where are Jake and Sunghoon? Are you alone? Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound scraping pleasantly against the microphone. "Jake-hyung and Sunghoon-hyung had different schedules today. They’re probably already asleep. I wanted to get some exercise, so I took my bike out."

He flipped the camera around to show the shimmering reflection of the city lights dancing on the water's surface, tilting the lens upward toward the sky. "Look. The moon is completely full tonight. It’s pretty, right?"

After a few more minutes of reading comments, discussing his dinner, and reassuring fans that he wasn't catching a cold, Jungwon checked the time. It had been about eight minutes—long enough to check in, but short enough to avoid drawing a crowd. "Alright, Engene, I should head out before it gets any later. Sleep well, and make sure to eat breakfast tomorrow. Bye-bye." He flashed a quick peace sign, dimples sinking deep into his cheeks, and ended the stream.

The silence of the riverbank rushed back in. Jungwon sighed, stood up, stretching his back, and walked up to his bike resting against the concrete pillar. He strapped his helmet on, but instead of pocketing his phone, his thumb hovered over a contact name that always brought an instant, genuine warmth to his chest.

📱Calling : 우리 자기 🐝

He hit dial, lifting the phone to his ear as he hopped onto the bike seat, balancing with one foot on the pavement. The line rang three times before a soft, fumbling rustle echoed through the speaker.

📞 You: "Hello?" Your voice came through, thick with sleep, a little raspy, and entirely disarmed.

📞 Jungwon: Jungwon’s posture immediately softened. The guarded, hyper-aware idol posture melted away, replaced by a soft, boyish grin. "Did I wake you up, jagi?"

📞 You: "Jungwonie..." You shifted against your pillows, the sound of your blanket moving clear over the line. A sleepy smile evident in your tone. "No, it's fine. I was just drifting off. I always wait up for your call anyway."

The sheer fondness that hit him was visual; he had to look down at his sneakers to catch his breath. It had been nearly three weeks since he’d last held you, swallowed up by a relentless wave of comebacks, dance practices, and media appearances. Hearing your voice like this—vulnerable and entirely yours—was the first time he felt like he could actually breathe all day.

📞 Jungwon: "I miss you," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a sudden, heavy gravity. "I just finished my schedule a bit ago and took my bike out to wind down."

📞 You: That woke you up a little more. "Wait, you're outside? Right now?" You sat up in bed, concern cutting through the sleepiness. "Jungwon, it’s past midnight. Where are you?"

📞 Jungwon: "Just by the Han River underpass," he said casually, though he couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly your maternal instincts kicked in whenever he was out alone. "I'm safe, I promise.

📞 You: "You need to get back to the dorms," you scolded gently, though the underlying worry in your voice was sweet. "You've been working non-stop all week. Go home, take a hot shower, and sleep."

Jungwon didn't answer right away. He looked down at the handlebars of his bike, then turned his head, looking toward the city skyline in the direction of your neighborhood. He bit his lower lip, a sudden, electric spark of impulsivity taking over.

📞 Jungwon: "Hey," he said softly, his tone shifting from casual to something much lower, much more deliberate.

📞 You: "Yeah?"

📞 Jungwon: "I'm looking at the route back to the dorms..." Jungwon hesitated, a low, teasing hum vibrating in his throat. "But honestly? I'm pretty far from Hannam-dong right now. And your apartment is only about a ten-minute ride from the bridge."

There was a sudden pause on your end of the line.

📞 You: "Jungwon..."

📞 Jungwon: "Can I come by?" He asked, his voice dropping to a velvety, persuasive whisper that left no room for argument. "Just for the night. I really don't want to ride all the way back."

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a mix of relief and a sudden, fluttering anticipation that completely chased away the last remnants of your sleep. You leaned back against your headboard, clutching the phone a little tighter to your ear.

📞 You: "You're impossible," you murmured, a helpless smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, of course you can come over. You know you don't even have to ask."

Jungwon let out a low, satisfied hum over the line, the sound vibrating directly into your ear.

📞 You: "But," you added, your tone turning firm but gentle, "Only if you promise you’ll be careful. No speeding on the trails, keep your head down, and you cannot be late for your schedule tomorrow morning. I mean it, Jungwon. If you get in trouble because of this—"

📞 Jungwon: "I won't, jagi, I promise," he interrupted softly, his voice laced with an intimate, reassuring warmth that instantly quieted your worrying. "Manager-hyung knows I went out for a ride to clear my head, and my morning call isn't until ten. I have plenty of time. I just... I really need to see you tonight. Everything else can wait."

The raw honesty in his voice made your heart do a familiar flip. It was rare for the fiercely responsible ENHYPEN leader to be this selfish, but when it came to you, the strict boundaries he lived by always seemed to blur.

📞 You: "Okay," you whispered, your voice softening completely. "Just hurry, please. It’s dark out."

📞 Jungwon: "I have some clothes in your closet anyway, remember? And my toothbrush," he teased, his dimples practically audible through the phone. He had slowly been leaving a trail of his things at your place over the last few months—a deliberate, quiet way of claiming his spot in your life. "I'll change as soon as I get there."

You could hear the sharp click of his helmet strap securing under his chin through the microphone, followed by the rustle of his tech-jacket as he adjusted his phone into his pocket, keeping you on his wireless earbuds.

📞 Jungwon: "I'm pedaling out now," Jungwon said, his breathing shifting as he pushed off the pavement. The background noise of the Han River wind picked up slightly. "I’ll use the keypad, okay? Be there in ten minutes."

📞 You: "I'll be waiting. Ride safe."

📞 Jungwon: "Always. See you in a few."

⸻

The moment the line went dead, the lingering fog of sleep vanished entirely, replaced by a sudden, electric rush of adrenaline. You tossed your covers aside and swung your legs out of bed, your heart hammering against your ribs in the quiet of your apartment. Ten minutes. You had exactly ten minutes. You sprinted straight to your dresser, bypassing your usual oversized t-shirts for something meant just for his eyes. You pulled out a matching midnight-blue satin sleep set—a delicate, low-back camisole with thin spaghetti straps and matching fluid shorts that trimmed your thighs. It was soft, effortless, and just the right amount of sexy.

Dashing into the bathroom, you grabbed your shower caddy and twisted the faucet, letting the water instantly steam up the room. You stripped down and stepped into the water, washing away the day with a quick but meticulous shower. You used your favorite vanilla and amber-infused body wash, ensuring the rich, warm scent clung to your skin. After a lightning-fast rinse, you hopped out, wrapped a towel around yourself, and quickly brushed your teeth, wanting your breath to be minty fresh. Standing in front of the mirror, you blew through your beauty routine with practiced speed. You brushed out your hair, letting it fall in soft, natural waves over your shoulders, and applied a lightweight, hydrating body lotion that gave your skin a subtle, healthy glow. A swipe of tinted lip balm added just a touch of color to your lips.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you slipped into the satin set. The cool fabric felt delicious against your warmed skin. With only three minutes left on the clock, you hurried to presentable-ify your space. You smoothed out the wrinkled sheets of your bed, plumping up the pillows and pulling the duvet taut—making it look inviting but neat. On the nightstand, you struck a match and lit a cedarwood and tobacco-scented candle. The flame flickered to life, casting a warm, amber glow across the bedroom, throwing intimate shadows against the walls as the rich, cozy fragrance began to drift through the air.

Finally, you walked over to the hallway linen closet. You pulled out a plush, charcoal-grey bath towel, shaking it open before folding it neatly over your arm. Knowing Jungwon, after a late-night schedule and a sweaty bike ride, a hot shower would be the first thing he’d crave.

Just as you patted the towel into place on the bathroom counter, the faint, familiar electronic beep of your front door’s keypad echoed from the entryway. The electronic lock clicked open, and the heavy door nudged forward. Jungwon slipped inside with practiced quietness, lifting his road bike across the threshold to keep the tires from squeaking against the hardwood floor. He leaned the sleeked black bike securely against the wall by the shoe rack, unbuckling his helmet and setting it over the handlebars.

"Jagi?" He called out, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that instantly cut through the quiet apartment.

"In the bathroom!" You called back, your voice echoing slightly against the tile.

Jungwon let out a long, exhausted breath, the heavy weight of his idol persona finally slipping off his shoulders the moment the door locked behind him. He kicked off his sneakers, stepping into the familiar house slippers you kept just for him. He walked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a soft groan, running a hand through his dark hair. Before he could even fully melt into the cushions, the bathroom door clicked open, making him instantly jump back up to greet you properly.

You walked out, and the moment Jungwon's eyes landed on you, his exhaustion seemed to have evaporated. His gaze darkened slightly, tracking the slope of your shoulders and the fluid movement of your silk pjs against your skin. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, his dimples cutting deep.

"Look at you," he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

You didn't answer with words. A sudden wave of emotion hit you—just seeing him standing in your space after weeks of separation made your chest ache in the best way. You ran across the living room, throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. You pressed frantic, sweet kisses all over his jaw and cheek.

"Whoa, wait, wait—" Jungwon laughed, his voice a deep rumble against your chest. He instinctively brought his hands up to grip your waist, but stopped himself, holding his palms out in mid-air. "Babe, I'm sweaty. I just rode all the way from the river, don't get your nice clothes dirty."

You pulled back just an inch, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat. "I don't care," you teased, leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. "But... I did already set up the bathroom for you. Your towel is on the counter, and your clothes are in the closet."

Jungwon’s eyes softened, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration taking over his features. He looked at you, clean, smelling like warm vanilla, and completely ready to take care of him after a long day.

"You're amazing, you know that?" He murmured.

Unable to resist any longer, Jungwon leaned forward. Keeping his sweaty jacket carefully angled away from your pretty satin set, he poked his lips out playfully before deepening the gesture, pressing a firm, lingering kiss right against your lips. It was warm, breathless, and tasted faintly of the cool night air. He pulled back with a soft smirk, his thumbs lightly brushing the sides of your hips before he fully stood back. "Let me go wash up real quick. Don't go back to sleep without me."

"I won't," you promised, watching him as he grabbed his change of clothes from the bedroom and disappeared into the steaming bathroom, closing the door behind him.

⸻

The 20 minutes Jungwon spent in the bathroom felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bed, mindlessly scrolling through the Netflix homepage, the colorful images blurring together as your chest tightened with a nervous, electric anticipation. No matter how long you two had been together, the sheer reality of him being here, in your apartment, away from the cameras and the crowds, always brought back those fierce, heavy butterflies.

And the moment the distant rumble of the shower pipes went silent, you sprang into action.

You dashed over to the vanity mirror, quickly fluffing up your hair so it fell perfectly over your shoulders. You grabbed a tube of high-shine lip gloss, swiping it over your lips to give them a plush, inviting pout, and topped it off with one last delicate spritz of your vanilla perfume on your collarbones. Hearing his bare footsteps approach the door, you scrambled back onto the bed, pulling the cover over your legs just as the handle turned, trying to look perfectly casual. The door swung open, and a wave of warm, clean steam billowed into the bedroom, carrying the scent of his soap.

Jungwon walked in, and it was as if the entire room shifted into slow motion. His damp hair was messy, his towel slung carelessly over his broad shoulders as he aggressively rubbed at the wet strands. He was wearing his favorite off-duty uniform: a charcoal-black, form-fitting crewneck shirt that stretched tight across his chest and shoulders, paired with loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

You meant to look at his face. You really did. But your eyes instantly betrayed you. As he walked toward the bed, the soft fabric of the grey sweats clung just right, completely revealing that he had opted to skip out on underwear tonight. The unmistakable, heavy print was impossible to ignore. Your breath hitched in your throat, a sudden flash of heat rushing straight to your cheeks. That specific outfit combination—the tight top highlighting his strong frame paired with the effortlessly revealing grey sweats—always did something wicked to your sanity, and he knew it. Jungwon caught the exact trajectory of your gaze. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he lowered the towel from his head. He didn't say a word, but the sudden, intense darkness in his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were looking at.

That memory hit you like a physical wave, sending a sudden, intoxicating rush of heat straight to your core. It was pure déjà vu. Your mind flashed vividly back to the Walk The Line tour stop in Chicago—specifically, the late-night aftermath backstage. He had worn almost this exact outfit after the concert, exhausted but running on pure adrenaline, and the things he had done to you while wearing those grey sweats had burned themselves into your memory permanently.

Jungwon tracked the heat rising in your cheeks, his smirk widening as he tossed his damp towel onto your vanity chair. He didn't call you out on it verbally; instead, he let the silence stretch, thick and heavy with unspoken tension.

He crawled into bed, his movements fluid and unhurried. The moment he slid onto the sheets beside you, he let out the biggest, most genuine sigh of relief, as if the weight of the entire world had finally been lifted off his shoulders. "Ah, finally," he murmured, his voice incredibly deep and raspy from the steam of the shower. Without waiting a second, he reached out and dragged you into his space, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist to pull your back flush against his chest. He buried his face straight into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A low, appreciative hum vibrated through his chest and directly onto your skin.

"You smell so good, jagi," he whispered, his warm breath sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Vanilla? You got ready for me."

"Maybe," you teased softly, leaning back into his solid frame, your skin tingling where the cool satin of your camisole met the soft cotton of his fitted black shirt. "You took forever in there. I missed you."

"I had to wash off the whole day," he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he spoke. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you so close that you could feel the thick warmth of him pressing firmly against your thigh. "But I'm finally here now. I'm not going anywhere."

⸻

You shifted slightly in his embrace, turning your head to look at him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. The warm, amber glow of the candle flickered against his sharp jawline, making him look incredibly relaxed.

"So, tell me about your day," you murmured, tracing a playful circle on his forearm. "What did you eat? And how is the choreography for the new comeback coming along? How was your bike ride?

Jungwon let out a soft huff, his lips brushing your skin. "Ah, the comeback prep is intense. We spent five hours practicing the main track today. It’s fast, really heavy on the footwork. I only had time for some chicken breast, rice, and kimchi between filming content," he explained briefly, his voice dropping into a sleepy, rhythmic cadence. "And the bike ride... I just needed to feel the wind, you know? To escape for a second." He shifted, his chest pressing closer against your back. "But enough about me. I've been thinking about you all day. How was your day, jagi? What did you do?"

"My day was okay," you started, turning your head a bit more to meet his gaze. "I went to that new café down the street this morning to get some work done, and then I—"

You choked on the rest of your sentence as Jungwon suddenly leaned in, burying his face back deeply into the crook of your neck. His lips pressed a warm, deliberate kiss right against your skin. "Jungwon..." you breathed, trying to stay on track, but your hands instinctively gripped his forearm. "And then I had to run some errands..."

He didn't reply with words. His lips traveled slowly up the column of your neck, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw, making a quiet gasp escape your lips. At the same time, his hand—warm and heavy—slid down from your waist, his fingers tracing the smooth edge of your satin shorts. His large palm slipped underneath the fluid fabric, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your thigh with a possessive, electric touch. "You're not listening to me," you whispered weakly, your head tilting back against his chest to give him better access.

"I am listening," Jungwon murmured against your skin, his voice incredibly deep and thick with a sudden, dark intensity. His hand glided higher up your thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, agonizing circles into your skin. "But you smell too good. And I've waited weeks for this."

You forced yourself to turn around completely in his embrace, your knees brushing against his thighs as you looked him dead in the eyes. The boyish, tired idol from the Weverse live was entirely gone. In his place was a man looking at you with a heavy, darkened gaze—an intense, almost devilish expression that made your breath catch. His eyes traced the line of your glossed lips, then dropped to the low neckline of your satin camisole, raw desire unravelling in his expression. He looked like he wanted to devour you right then and there.

"Jungwon," you whispered, the name a breathless plea.

"I tried to be patient," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "I really tried, jagi."

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Jungwon leaned in, his large hand cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head just the way he liked. His lips met yours in a slow, deeply possessive kiss. It wasn't the sweet, hesitant greeting from before; this was heavy, demanding, and thick with the built-up frustration of three weeks apart.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, your hands instantly tangling into his damp hair, pulling him closer. As the kiss deepened, his other hand glided smoothly up your leg, the cool satin of your shorts rustling against his warm palm. Without breaking the kiss, his fingers slipped underneath the waistband, his hand sliding fully into your shorts. Jungwon nudged his knee between yours, and you willingly gave in, parting your legs to let him settle firmly into the space between them.

You gasped into his mouth as his warm fingers found your clit, his palm pressing flat against you as he began to rub in slow, deliberate circles. The sudden, intense friction sent a jolt of pure heat straight through your cunt. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, his lips brushing against yours as his pace grew a little more urgent, his eyes locking onto yours with a fiercely dominant spark.

"You have no idea," he panted, a low growl vibrating in his chest as his hand continued to move against you, "what you do to me in this outfit."

Your hand slid down his chest, tracking the tight fabric of his shirt until your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The moment your bare palm connected with the burning, heavy length of his cock, a low, guttural growl caught in Jungwon’s throat. Determined to get closer, you shifted your weight, breaking his rhythm for just a split second as you moved positions. You climbed fully into his lap, shifting until you were straddling his thighs, the fluid satin of your shorts sliding against the rough cotton of his sweats.

You finally broke the kiss, pulling back just an inch, your breaths mingling in the warm, candlelit air. "You're not wearing any underwear?" You whispered, your thumb sketching a slow, deliberate line along his length. Jungwon’s head tilted back against the pillows, a breathless, arrogant smirk breaking across his lips. "Oh," he rasped, his hooded eyes dropping to watch your hand move against him. "So you noticed."

"How could I not?" You leaned down, your chest pressing against his as you looked into his dark eyes. "Does this outfit remind you of anything? Do you remember that night we had in Chicago last year?" A deep, vivid flash of recognition lit up his face. His hands immediately flew to your hips, his fingers digging possessively into your skin as the memory took hold. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, velvety register. "I remember every single second of it. That was one of the best nights of my life." He pulled you down slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw as his grip on your hips tightened. "I've missed you so much, jagi. The phone calls... they're not enough anymore. Hearing your voice through a speaker just makes me crazy. I need your touch. I need this."

Jungwon looked up at you, his gaze blazing with unvarnished hunger as he slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip. The friction of your core resting directly over his rigid length through the thin fabric was driving him over the edge. He squeezed your hips, a desperate, dominant edge cutting into his voice. "I want you so bad right now. I can't wait."

Those words instantly flipped a switch inside you, triggering a sudden, intoxicating rush of dominance that left no room for hesitation. You shifted your weight on his lap, leaning over him just enough to hook your fingers into the waistband of your satin shorts. In one fluid, deliberate motion, you slid them down your thighs, exposing yourself completely before tossing them over the edge of the bed. They landed somewhere in the dark, forgotten. Jungwon’s breath hitched, his eyes tracking every line of your body as you settled back onto his thighs. Without giving him a chance to recover, you reached down, your fingers gripping the waistband of his grey sweatpants. You pulled them down just past his hips, freeing him. His cock, already fully erect and slick with anticipation, sprang free from the fabric, casting a shadow against his stomach in the amber candlelight. You wrapped your fingers around the warm, thick length of him, giving it a soft, teasing squeeze.

A sharp jolt ran through Jungwon's entire frame, his chest heaving as a low gasp escaped his lips.

"Well, I’ve missed you too," you whispered, leaning down so your lips almost brushed his ear. Your grip tightened slightly, moving up and down in one slow, agonizing stroke. "And she missed you even more." Jungwon’s head thudded back against the headboard, his eyes blown wide, dark and entirely consumed by admiration as he looked up at you.

Wanting to drive him completely insane, you put your hands at the edge of your satin camisole, pulling it up just enough to expose the smooth, slim curve of your stomach. You gathered spit in your mouth, your eyes locked onto his the entire time. Then, leaning forward slightly, you let it spill and drip down onto your bare skin. Both of you watched in absolute, breathless silence as the clear, glistening wetness rolled slowly, all the way down your stomach, tracing a shiny path over your abdomen and pubic bone before it finally hit your core, slicking your entrance. Jungwon watched in pure awe, a heavy, disbelieving chuckle vibrating deep in his throat. The raw, uninhibited sexiness of what you were doing for him—completely erasing any remaining boundaries between you—hit him like a physical wave. He realized right then that you had missed him just as fiercely, just as desperately as he had missed you.

He loved it when you took control. He loved when the sweet, careful girlfriend vanished and you became entirely crazed for him, hungry for his cock. "God, you're so bad," Jungwon rasped, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly growl. He reached up, his soft warm hands wrapping around your waist, his thumbs digging into your hips as he pulled you down flush against him. "Come here.”

You shifted your weight slightly, adjusting your hips as you leaned down to press another kiss to his lips. This time, it was sweet and torturously slow, a deliberate contrast to the heat building between you, making Jungwon let out a low, desperate whine against your mouth.

"Take it," he rasped, his voice thick and rough as he finally broke the kiss to breathe. "Please, jagi."

Your hands rested flat against his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart as you hovered directly over him. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating. You slowly guided your core right over the crown of his rigid length. Sensing your hesitation, Jungwon reached down with his hand, his fingers wrapping around the base of his own dick to help steady it, aligning him perfectly with your slick entrance. You slowly began to lower your hips, letting him slide inside you inch by inch. The sensation of him stretching you open after weeks of waiting was so intense that your eyes instantly closed, a loud, breathless gasp echoing in the quiet room. Jungwon’s grip on your waist tightened instantly, his knuckles turning white against your skin as he felt how tight and warm you were around him. He watched your face, his own features contorting into a mask of pure pleasure and pain as you took all of him.

"Ah, God..." Jungwon groaned, his head tilting back against the headboard, his chest heaving as you finally sank all the way down, burying him completely inside you. He let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes opening to look up at you with a gaze full of heavy, unvarnished devotion. "You feel so good. You fit me so perfect."

You arched your back, a loud, broken moan catching in your throat as you began to grind your hips down against his, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. Even though his body was slightly sore and drained from a grueling five-hour dance practice and his bike ride, Jungwon’s natural athleticism and incredible stamina took over the moment he was inside you. He was fiercely agile, his core tight and controlled. Sensing your rhythm, he gripped your hips with intensity, taking control of the pace by powerfully pushing his hips upward to meet every single down-stroke.

"Ah, jagi... look at you," Jungwon rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly, breathless whisper.

Your strength wavered under the sheer force of his upward thrusts, your body melting forward until your chest was resting flat against his. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, taking him in completely as your tight core desperately tried to adjust to his relentless strength and building pace. Every time he drove deep inside you, a loud, uninhibited moan echoed directly into his ear, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of your bedroom. Hearing you lose control only fueled him. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against your burning earlobe as he kept a steady, driving rhythm beneath you.

"Yeah, let it out," he encouraged, his tone a dark, velvety murmur laced with a heavy groan as your tightness squeezed him. "Aishh, your pussy….Shit! l—I need to hear you, babe. Tell me how much you’ve missed this."

"Fuck, yes... I’ve missed this so much," you gasped out, the dirty talk slipping from your lips completely unbidden, fueled by the intoxicating friction of him deep inside you. "I've been thinking about your cock for weeks, Jungwon. Nothing else feels like this." A dark, triumphant growl vibrated right through his chest. Jungwon’s eyes blew wide, a fierce spark of dominance flaring in his gaze as your words hit him. "Yeah? Tell me more, jagi. Tell me exactly what it does to you."

"It ruins me," you whimpered, your head tilting back as you forced your upper body up, breaking the contact of your chests. The shift in angle allowed him to drive even deeper from below. Jungwon didn't miss a beat; his agile hips snapped upward, his stamina proving limitless as he hit your sweetest spot with a ruthless, steady rhythm. "You're so good for me," he praised, his voice a rough, breathless pant that sent confidence rushing straight to your core. "Look at you riding me so perfectly. Such a good girl." The praise was like a drug, giving you a sudden surge of control. You reached down, grabbing his warm hands by the wrists and guiding them up your body, placing his palms directly over your breasts.

Jungwon caught on instantly. His fingers spread wide, softly squeezing the full curves through the thin, slick satin of your camisole. He thumbed your hardened nipples through the fabric, his touch tender but possessive. "So beautiful," he murmured, his hooded eyes locked onto your chest as he manipulated your skin. "Everything about you is perfect." With his hands anchoring you, you took full charge of the momentum. You lifted your hips and began to ride him with an urgent, demanding pace. The wet friction between your core and his heavy length echoed in the quiet room, underscored by the flickering shadow of the cedarwood candle.

"Ah! Jungwon, right there. Right there!” You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you picked up the speed, your body completely synchronized with his. "Mhmm keep taking it, babe. It's all yours," he rasped, his own breath hitching as he threw his head back against the pillows, matching your frantic rhythm with powerful, unyielding thrusts from below.

You leaned over him, your palms flat against his broad, muscular shoulders for leverage. The contrast between your smooth, vanilla-scented skin and his black cotton shirt was stark in the dim amber light. With total control over the momentum, you deliberately changed up the rhythm. You went from long, slow, agonizingly deep grinds that made him catch his breath, to sudden, frantic, shallow thrusts that caught him completely off guard. Jungwon was entirely at your mercy. His head rolled back against the pillows, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles leaped, and his long eyelashes fluttered as a broken, guttural moan tore through his throat. The usually composed, sharp leader of ENHYPEN looked beautifully wrecked beneath you, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his composure against your shifting pace.

Driven by the overwhelming heat, you lowered your gaze down to where your bodies were tightly locked together. In the flickering glow of the candle, you could clearly see the glistening reflection of your own slicked wetness and the friction of your bodies creating a creamy, white froth that combined between your thighs. Every single down-stroke was loud and wet, a sticky, intoxicating sound that echoed through the bedroom and pushed you completely over the edge.

Jungwon..." you gasped out, your voice breaking as a violent tremor rippled through your core. Your fingers dug deep into his shoulders, your hips stuttering. "I'm going to cum. I'm close—"

"No, no—not yet, jagi," Jungwon interrupted, his voice dropping into a commanding, gravelly rasp.

His eyes snapped open, completely dark and blazing with a sudden, possessive intensity. Before you could lose control, his heavy hands flew up to grip your hips with bruising force, locking your thighs in place and forcing you to halt your rhythm. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he looked up at you, completely breathless. "Hold on for me. Don't cum without me."

⸻

"Give me your hands," Jungwon rasped, his voice cutting through your breathless haze with absolute authority. He lifted his arms, holding his hands up in the air with his palms facing completely upward toward you. "Put your hands right here, jagi. Interlock your fingers with mine."

You obeyed instantly, sliding your fingers between his. His grip closed around yours tightly, warm and unyielding. The position felt intensely deliberate—it was exactly like placing your hands firmly on a bicycle's handlebars, giving you total stability while leaving him in complete control of your balance. While holding your hands high, Jungwon shifted beneath you. He drew his knees up, sliding his bare feet flat onto the sheets directly under your thighs. The sudden movement braced his weight and instantly lifted your hips higher, tilting your pelvis at a devastatingly sharp angle that buried his heavy length even deeper inside you. A loud, broken gasp left your lips at the sudden, deeper friction, your core squeezing him impossibly tight.

"Yeah, like that," Jungwon groaned, his jaw clenching as he felt you clamp around him. He looked up at you through his dark, messy hair, a fiercely dominant smirk cutting through his breathless expression. "Use my hands as your support. Lean into me and bounce on it faster. Just like you're riding a bike, jagi."

With your hands locked together and his feet firmly planted, Jungwon's incredible core strength and athletic stamina were on full display. He was so incredibly strong that you were basically suspended on top of him, his powerful arms and braced legs easily absorbing your weight and helping you balance as you began to move. You took his cue, leaning your upper body forward against the resistance of his locked hands and began to drive your hips down in a frantic, relentless rhythm. Without your hands to hold onto his shoulders, the momentum was pure, unadulterated friction. Jungwon matched you stroke for stroke, his hips thrusting upward from the sheets with powerful, agile snaps that met you halfway every single time.

The wet, clapping sounds of your bodies colliding filled the candlelit room, entirely intoxicating. "Ah! Jungwon—fuck…yes," you cried out, your head tossing back as you bounced harder, the “bicycle” like grip keeping you perfectly upright as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. "I've got you," he panted, his chest heaving, his fingers squeezing yours so tightly it was borderline bruising. "Don't stop, jagi. Ride me. Give me everything!"

⸻

The sheer, overwhelming depth of the new position was entirely too much. The moment you began bouncing against his braced legs, your walls clamped around him so violently that your vision went hazy at the edges.

"Jungwon, wait—I can't," you screamed, your voice breaking into a high, desperate whine as you tried to slow down. "You’re so deep. Holy shit…I’m gonna break!"

"No, don't stop. Stay right there with me," Jungwon ordered, his voice a raw, gravelly growl that left no room for argument. He squeezed your interlocked fingers, his biceps flexing as he held your hands steady like iron bars, keeping you perfectly balanced above him. "Look at me, jagi. Look at how much of me you’re actually taking."

You forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, blown-out gaze. His face was flushed, a bead of sweat tracing down his sharp jawline as he pushed his hips upward with a brutal, unyielding strength. "You're so big," you gasped out, completely undone by the dirty talk, your hips automatically picking up the frantic pace again. "You're stretching me so much! Fuck, your cock is amazing, Jungwonie!"

"Fuuuuuuck," he groaned, the curse tearing from his throat as his eyes fluttered shut for a split second. Your tight core was pulsing frantically around him, driving him completely insane. He snapped his hips up harder, his toes digging into the mattress. "You feel so fucking good around me. I’m right there, baby. Give me a few more. Just a few more please!"

"Uhhh, cum inside me," you begged, leaning forward against his locked hands, your voice thick with a desperate, building climax. "Please, Jungwon."

"I'm gonna fill you up," he rasped, his eyes snapping open, blazing with a fiercely possessive hunger. He unlocked your hands, his large palms instantly flying up to cup the back of your thighs, lifting you slightly just to slam himself into you with a final, desperate burst of stamina. "Okay, now jagi! Aishh, let’s cum together!"

⸻

Your voice broke into a sharp, echoing scream, the sound tearing from your throat as your core completely collapsed into a violent, rhythmic spasm. It was as if his deep, commanding voice was the exact key needed to unlock your climax. His words and his breathless encouragement made your pussy the absolute wettest it had ever been, the sudden flood of slick heat completely dissolving whatever restraint he had left.

The sheer force of your shared orgasm was so intense that your excess wetness escaped, dripping down where your bodies were tightly locked, dripping all over his waist. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you immediately collapsed forward, clinging onto him for dear life, your entire body shuddering and twitching violently through the waves of the release. Deep inside you, Jungwon let out a loud, guttural roar that vibrated straight through your chest. His eyes rolled back, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles twitched as his body went completely weak beneath you.

You could feel his thick cock throb and expand aggressively inside your pulsing walls. He wrapped his powerful arms around your back, pulling you in hard—almost brutally—against his chest. He squeezed you to him with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, milking out every single drop of his hot cum deep inside you, treating your tight body like a stress ball as he emptied himself completely.

"Ah, jagi...," he gasped, his voice breaking into a ragged, breathless whisper as the final pulses left him. The intoxicating combination of the overwhelming friction, the deep, flooding warmth inside you, and the sheer exhaustion of the moment made your muscles instantly give out. Completely spent and trembling, you both collapsed back into the tangled sheets together, chest to chest, the heavy sound of your synchronized, frantic breathing filling the quiet, still, candlelit room.

⸻

The sound of your breathing was the only thing filling the room for a long time. The scent of vanilla, sweat, and the cedarwood candle still hung thick in the air. Jungwon was the first to break the silence. His chest rose and fell beneath you, his heart still hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. He let out a low, disbelieving laugh that vibrated directly into you.

"That was fucking crazy," he breathed out, his voice completely wrecked, deeper and raspier than you’d ever heard it. He slid his hands up from your waist, his palms hot against your bare, sweat-slicked skin as he began to rub your back in long, soothing strokes. The friction of his calloused hands felt grounding, trying to ease the aftershock still trembling through your muscles.

You couldn’t even find the energy to open your eyes. Your eyelids felt like lead, heavy and completely sealed shut from the sheer exhaustion of the climax. All you could manage was a soft, muffled hum against his collarbone, a weak nod of agreement. You were completely dick wasted—your body felt utterly limp, and heavy, melting into his solid frame like water. Every muscle in your legs and core had completely given out, leaving you entirely powerless to move off him.

"Hey," Jungwon murmured, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. He chuckled softly at how unresponsive you were, a flash of pure, smug satisfaction crossing his face. "You're completely gone, aren't you?" You groaned softly into his neck, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric of his tee. "I can't move..." you whispered, your voice a tiny, breathless thread.

"I can tell," he teased, though his tone was incredibly soft, dripping with an absolute, heavy adoration. He wrapped his strong arms securely around your torso, bracing his weight as he slowly began to shift. "Come here, let's get you up so we can actually lay down. Help me out a little bit, jagi."

⸻

With a gentle but firm lift of his upper body, Jungwon tried to sit you up straight on his lap. Your head rolled back slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you finally looked at him. His dark bangs were plastered to his forehead, his lips swollen and red, and his dimples poked out in a sleepy, victorious grin. "There she is," he whispered, his thumb catching a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek and wiping it away tenderly.

Jungwon’s chest rumbled with a quiet amusement as he stabilized your limp weight against him. He looked down at your half-closed eyes, then at the tangled sheets, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Well," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful satisfaction. "Looks like we both got a pretty intense workout in today."

He let out a low chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly beneath you. The joke hit your brain slowly. You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to huff out a proper laugh at his terrible timing, but your body flatly refused to cooperate. Instead, a tiny, breathless sound escaped your throat—a weak, half-hearted giggle that died out almost immediately as you buried your face back into his neck. "Not funny," you mumbled against his warm skin, though the small smile curving your lips betrayed you. "I'm dying."

"I think my stamina might have beaten yours tonight," he teased softly, his fingers gently combing through your messy hair to pull it away from your face. Despite the joke, his touch was incredibly tender. He shifted his hips slightly, carefully helping you slide off his lap so you could both finally collapse side-by-side onto the pillows. The moment your head hit the mattress, you let out a long, pathetic sigh of relief. Jungwon immediately rolled onto his side, pulling the heavy duvet up over both of your sweat-slicked bodies. He hauled you against his chest, his legs tangling with yours.

"Sleep, jagi," he whispered into your hair, his voice dropping into a deep, comforting register as his own exhaustion finally started to catch up with him. "I've got you."

⸻

The soft, warm glow of the morning sun filtered through the cracks of your blinds, casting lazy golden lines across the tangled sheets. You shifted against the pillows, your body instantly remembering the heavy, delicious soreness from the night before. You reached out instinctively, your hand sliding across the mattress to find Jungwon—but the space beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch.

From down the hall, the muffled rumble of the shower pipes fading out told you exactly where he was. A few minutes later, the faint sound of a spoon clinking against a ceramic mug echoed from the kitchen. You smiled into your pillow. It was a routine you knew by heart. Jungwon was a notoriously terrible cook—he’d be the first to admit that his culinary skills didn't stretch much past boiling water or ordering delivery—but whenever he stayed over, he always insisted on trying to make you something before it was time for him to go.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door crept open with an agonizing slowness. Jungwon slipped into the room, moving with practiced quietness to avoid waking you. He was fresh from the shower, smelling of his familiar body wash and mint toothpaste. His damp hair was neatly brushed, and he had changed into a fresh set of clothing, completely put-together and ready to transform back into ENHYPEN’s leader the second he stepped outside. In his hands, he carefully balanced a small tray holding a plate of golden-brown toast and a steaming cup of coffee. As the door floor gave a tiny creak, you shuffled beneath the covers, rubbing your eyes as you slowly blinked up at him.

Jungwon froze, a look of boyish guilt crossing his face before it immediately melted into a soft, dimpled smile. "Aish, I tried to be quiet," he murmured, his voice still carrying that raspy, deep morning register. He walked over to the edge of the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Did I wake you up, jagi?"

"No," you croaked, your voice thick with sleep as you pushed yourself up against the headboard, pulling the cover up to your chest. You looked at the perfectly toasted bread and the coffee. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast," he announced proudly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress beside your hips. He leaned forward, pressing a sweet, minty-fresh kiss to your cheek. "Well, as much of a breakfast as I can manage. I didn't want to risk burning your kitchen down trying to make eggs, so... toast and coffee it is." A soft laugh escaped your lips, your heart swelling at the sheer effort. He had a brutal schedule ahead of him today, yet here he was, using his limited free time to take care of you.

"It's perfect, Wonie," you smiled, reaching out to wrap your hands around the warm coffee mug. "Thank you."

"Drink it while it's hot," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, intense warmth. He reached out, his thumb gently smoothing down a stray piece of your morning hair. "I have to leave for the dorms in about 15 minutes, but I wanted to make sure you were awake to eat first."

"You're so sweet," you murmured, leaning forward to press a quick, grateful kiss to his lips before taking a slow sip of the coffee. The warm liquid instantly started to wake you up, but it also made you realize your bladder was completely full. "Hold that thought, I have to use the bathroom." You tossed the cover aside and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress. The moment your feet hit the floor and you stood up, a sharp, heavy ache radiated directly through your hips and core—a fierce reminder of exactly how hard he had driven you into the mattress the night before.

Jungwon was sitting on the edge of the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his schedule on his phone, but his sharp eyes quickly snapped up to follow you as you began to walk past him. You let out a soft huff, followed by a small, involuntary whine, your hands instinctively reaching down to steady your lower back. Your legs felt like jelly, and you were visibly limping, your gait stiff and awkward.

Jungwon’s eyebrows instantly knit together in concern, his phone lowering. "Jagi, you okay? You’re walking kinda funny."

You stopped right outside the bathroom door, turning around to look at him. A dry, highly sarcastic laugh escaped your lips. "Yeah, Jungwon. I wonder why. I wonder what could have possibly happened last night to make my hips hurt this much."

A sudden, sheepish look crossed his face. The confident, dominant guy from last night completely vanished, replaced by a flushed, apologetic boyfriend who realized he might have gotten a little too carried away with his own desire. He bit his lip, a tiny, guilty dimple showing. "Okay, okay... I’m sorry. Not funny." Even though he apologized, he couldn't just sit there. Jungwon immediately stood up from the bed, his athletic frame moving effortlessly as he walked over to you, meeting you right at the bathroom threshold. He placed his warm hands on your shoulders, peering into your face with genuine, sweet concern to make sure you were actually okay and not seriously hurt.

"I really am sorry," he murmured softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "I just missed you too much. Do you need me to get you some pain medicine before I go?"

"No baby, I'm fine," you smiled, the sarcasm melting away at how genuinely caring he was being. "Just a hot shower will help. Go get ready, you're gonna be late."

"Okay. Call me if it doesn't get better," he warned gently, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to give you privacy.

⸻

You slowly limped out of the bathroom, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you made your way into the entryway. Your bottom lip naturally pushed out into a heavy pout. You absolutely hated this part. The crushing weight of reality always set in the moment he put his sneakers back on. It was a constant, quiet ache—the reminder that you had to share him with millions of people, that your time together was measured in fleeting midnight hours while the rest of his life belonged to the world. Jungwon caught the look on your face instantly. Reading your emotions like an open book, he set his helmet back down on the shoe rack without a word. He opened his arms wide, a soft, understanding look softening his features.

"Awe, come here," he murmured.

You didn't hesitate, stepping straight into his chest. Jungwon wrapped his strong arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, burying his face in your hair. He began to sway you gently back and forth right there by the front door, a comforting, rhythmic motion that felt like his way of trying to anchor you to him before he had to leave you.

After a long moment, he shifted, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His face was only inches away from yours. As you looked up, meeting his large, cat-like eyes, the sheer depth of affection in his gaze made your throat tighten. It was the kind of look that made you feel so completely seen, so utterly loved, that it almost made you want to cry. "Hey," he said softly, his minty-fresh breath fanning warmly across your face. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you whispered, your fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket. "I love you too."

"I had an amazing time last night," Jungwon continued, his voice dropping into a serious, deeply intimate register. His thumbs lightly stroked your hips, keeping you close. "But... next time I come over, we are definitely doing more. We should actually watch a movie. Or play that video game we talked about. Not just sex." He paused, his gaze softening even further as he noticed the slight surprise in your expression. He squeezed your waist gently, wanting to make himself perfectly clear. "Don't get me wrong, jagi—I love having sex with you," he murmured, a faint, honest flush rising on his cheeks. "You're my girlfriend, and I always want you, and honestly, I need that intimacy with you from time to time to keep me sane. Last night was incredible. But I value our relationship so much more than just that."

A soft, genuine wave of relief and warmth washed over you, and you immediately nodded in agreement. Hearing him say that out loud meant everything. It was the ultimate reassurance that you weren't just a secret escape or a late-night convenience after a stressful day. Jungwon didn't want your connection to be purely physical; he valued the quiet, normal, domestic moments with you just as much—if not more. He wanted dates, the lazy couch conversations, and the simple companionship that his idol life so rarely allowed.

"I'd really love that," you murmured, a genuine smile finally replacing your pout. "A movie night sounds perfect, actual."

"Then it's a promise," he smiled, his dimples flashing quickly before he leaned down to press a firm, lingering kiss to your lips—sweet, chaste, and entirely full of promise for the next time.

⸻

You slowly pulled away from the warmth of his chest, the absence of his arms leaving a sudden, chilly draft against your fresh satin pajamas. Reaching over to the shoe rack, you picked up his sleek black helmet and handed it to him, your fingers lingering against his for a final, quiet second. Right on cue, a sharp vibration echoed from his jacket pocket. Jungwon pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face as he scanned a quick KakaoTalk message. "Manager-hyung," he said with a small, reluctant sigh, slipping the device back away. "The van just pulled up at the corner of the block. I have to go now."

You nodded, swallowing down the sudden knot of loneliness in your throat, and stepped over to the front door. You turned the deadbolt and pulled it open, letting the bright, crisp morning air of the city neighborhood rush into the warm apartment. Jungwon grabbed the handlebars of his road bike, effortlessly lifting the frame and sliding it out into the hallway, positioning it so he could wheel it toward the elevator. Before crossing the threshold completely, Jungwon stopped. He turned back around, his eyes catching the morning light, holding your gaze with an intensity that promised he was leaving his heart behind in your apartment.

"Lock the door right after I leave, okay? And eat the rest of that toast," he ordered gently, his leadership instincts subtly bleeding into his boyfriend persona.

"I will, don't worry.” You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Have a good day today, baby. Try not to overwork yourself."

"I'll try, jagi," he murmured, his dimples peeking out one last time. "I'll call you tonight after my schedules are done."

"I'll be waiting."

As he stepped backward down the hallway, guiding his bike with one hand, you raised your hand to your lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your palm before blowing it down the corridor toward him. Jungwon caught it with a silent sweet grin, a soft flush creeping up his neck as he gave you one final, reassuring nod. You watched him until the elevator doors slid shut, hiding him from view. Stepping back inside, you closed the heavy door and flipped the deadbolt, the quiet safety of your apartment settling back over you, still smelling faintly of vanilla, cedarwood, and him.

©️ all images above were captured and edited by me, taken from Jungwon’s live. Dividers by original owners, credits to you. Weverse Live captured by EN-Hypenist Edits on YouTube. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment. Likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated! I love to write ♡

[lover-lila]

DARK RED

⋆°｡⋆୨🍒୧⋆°｡⋆ obsessed bf!heeseung x obsessed fem!reader

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍷✧˚.⋆ now playing ‘dark red’ - Steve Lacy

synopsis: on the surface, he’s the perfect boyfriend—attentive, protective, and completely devoted—but Lee Heeseung has no idea that his girlfriend matches his intensity in ways he’d never expect. While he quietly centers his world around her, she hides a deeper, more consuming obsession—memorizing every detail, every habit, every glance—careful to never let it slip. What he sees as love, she lives as fixation, and the line between the two grows thinner with every passing moment.

content warnings: porn w plot, oral (m and f receiving), dumbification, heavy makeouts, back shots (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, spit kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pet names, rough sex, spanking, fingering, obsessive behaviour from both.

word count: 1,749

There’s something about the way Lee Heeseung looks at you that makes people jealous.

It’s obvious, almost painfully so—how his eyes follow you even in crowded rooms, how his hand always finds yours without thinking, how he memorises your expressions like they mean more than anything else in the world. To everyone else, it’s intense. A little too intense. The kind of love people whisper about when you’re not around.

But they don’t know the half of it.

Because while Heeseung thinks he’s the one who’s deeply, hopelessly attached… he has no idea you’re worse.

Much worse.

You notice everything. The exact second his smile falters, the way his voice drops when he’s tired, the pattern of his texts when he misses you but doesn’t want to say it outright. You’ve memorised his schedule, his favourite snacks, the songs he plays when he can’t sleep. Not because you have to—but because you need to. Because loving him feels like something that requires precision, attention, devotion.

Control.

And yet, you hide it so well.

To him, you’re soft. Sweet. A little clingy, maybe—but in a way that makes his chest warm instead of uneasy. He loves that you lean into him, that you let him take care of you, that you look at him like he’s everything.

He doesn’t realise that when you look at him like that, it’s not admiration.

It’s possession.

The funny thing is—he’s not as unaware as you think.

Heeseung knows he’s obsessed with you. He knows it in the way he gets irritated when someone else makes you laugh too hard, in the way he checks his phone too often when you don’t reply, in how he sometimes grips your hand just a little tighter than necessary, like he’s reminding both of you that you’re his.

He just doesn’t realise… you feel the exact same way.

So when you sit across from each other, sharing quiet glances that linger just a second too long, both of you think you’re the only one holding something dangerous beneath the surface.

Both of you think you’re the one hiding it better.

And maybe that’s what makes it perfect.

Or what makes it doomed.

Because one day, the line between love and obsession won’t blur anymore—

it’ll snap.

────୨ৎ────

He’s quieter than usual when you mention it.

“Just a small thing,” you say lightly, like it doesn’t matter. “Me and the girls are going out tonight.”

Lee Heeseung hums in response, nodding once, but his eyes don’t leave you. They linger—too long, too focused—like he’s trying to read something underneath your words.

“Where?” he asks.

You shrug, naming the place, still casual. “Some of their friends are coming too.”

That’s when it shifts.

Not obvious. Not dramatic. Just… subtle.

His jaw tightens for a second before he relaxes it, leaning back like he’s unaffected. “Friends?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrolling through your phone. “A few guys, I think. You know how it is.”

Silence.

It stretches just enough to feel strange.

When you look up, he’s already staring at you.

Not angry—Heeseung doesn’t get angry like that. It’s worse. It’s controlled. Measured. His gaze drags over your face like he’s trying to memorise it, like he’s trying to decide something.

“You didn’t mention that before.”

You blink. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It matters,” he says quietly.

There’s no raise in his voice, no sharpness—but something about the way he says it makes your chest feel tight. Like the room has shrunk just a little.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes still locked on you.

“Are you dressing like that?”

Your breath catches—not because of what he said, but how he said it. Low. Careful. Like he’s holding something back.

You glance down at your outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he replies quickly, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck—a rare tell. “It just…”

He exhales, shaking his head slightly, like he’s trying to stop himself.

“I don’t like the idea of other people looking at you like that.”

There it is.

Not a demand. Not a command.

A confession.

And that somehow feels heavier.

You tilt your head, watching him now the same way he’s been watching you. “Like what?”

His eyes flicker—just for a second—before settling back on yours.

“Like they think they have a chance.”

The air between you goes still.

Because he’s not joking.

Heeseung reaches for your wrist then, thumb brushing lightly over your skin, but his grip lingers a second too long. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, almost under his breath.

And maybe he doesn’t realise how possessive it sounds.

Or maybe he does.

────୨ৎ────

By the time you step through the door, the quiet hits you first—too still, too expectant—and then you see him. Lee Heeseung is already there on the couch, exactly where you weren’t expecting him to be, elbows resting on his knees as if he’s been waiting longer than he should admit. The TV is on but muted, casting a soft glow over his face, and his eyes lift the second he hears you, locking onto you like you never really left his mind at all. His gaze drifts slowly, deliberately, taking in your outfit, your hair, every small detail, and there’s something unreadable sitting just beneath the surface—something calm, but tight, like he’s been holding onto a thought for hours.

“You’re back late,” he says, voice low and even, but the way he leans back, still watching you without blinking, makes it clear he’s been counting every minute.

“I didn’t mean to be”, you responded with a slight smirk. “I guess I lost track of time”.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm”

Heeseung abruptly stands up and slowly walks towards you, heightening the already tensions filled room. His tall figure towered over you has his piercing eyes roamed all over you. Until finally he spoke.

"Did you miss me, baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibrate against your skin. He didn't wait for an answer, his mouth crashing onto yours in a heavy, desperate makeout session. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a claim. He tasted of mint and hunger, his tongue sweeping through your mouth with an urgency that mirrored the way you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him as close as physically possible.

You pulled back just an inch, your eyes glazed with a matching obsession. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every second. Every breath," you whispered, the truth slipping out. Heeseung’s eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. He loved how much you needed him, unaware that you had spent your entire day analyzing the way he’d texted you, tracing the patterns of his devotion.

He dragged you to your shared bedroom and shoved you down onto the bed, his movements rough and commanding. He stripped you bare in seconds, his eyes scanning every inch of your body as if he were memorizing a map he already knew by heart.

"Good girl," he praised, the words sending a shiver of heat straight to your core. "Such a needy little thing for me."

He moved between your legs, his fingers diving inside you without warning. He fingered you aggressively, stretching you open, his thumb grinding against your clit in a rhythmic, punishing pace. You arched your back, a loud moan escaping you, your head tossing back against the pillows.

"Look at you," he groaned, leaning down to spit directly onto your clit, the warm moisture slicking the area before he began to suck on you. He devoured you, his tongue flicking and swirling with a focused intensity, drinking in every drop of your arousal. You gripped his hair, pulling him closer, your hips bucking wildly.

When you finally managed to pull him up, you didn't let him breathe. You pushed him back, forcing him onto his back and sliding down his body. You took his cock into your mouth with a hunger that surprised even him. You sucked him deep, your throat tightening around him, swirling your tongue around the head and swallowing the pre-cum with a desperate greed. You wanted every part of him inside you, in any way possible.

Heeseung let out a choked sound, his hand coming down to slap your ass hard, the sound echoing in the room. "Fuck, you're so obsessed with me, aren't you? Just a mindless little slut for your boyfriend."

The "dumbification" of the praise made your brain go fuzzy, stripping away everything but the raw need to please him. You looked up at him, eyes wide and vacant of anything but lust. "Yes... just yours. I'm nothing but yours, Heeseung."

He flipped you over instantly, shoving your face into the mattress and hiking your hips high. He didn't use a condom—he didn't want anything between him and the woman who belonged to him. He entered you in one heavy, brutal thrust, a loud gasp escaping your lips as he filled you completely.

He started delivering heavy back shots, his body slamming against yours with a rhythmic, wet thud. Every thrust was deep, hitting your cervix and leaving you breathless. He reached forward, grabbing your hair to pull your head back, whispering filth into your ear.

"You love this, don't you? Being used like this? You're so fucking empty without me inside you," he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness.

"More... please, Heeseung, fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking.

He obliged, his pace becoming frantic, rough and unyielding. He spanked your thighs and ass between thrusts, the stinging pain only adding to the pleasure. He was claiming every inch of you, and you were soaking it in, your mind completely gone, reduced to nothing but a vessel for his obsession.

As he reached his peak, he gripped your hips so hard he'd leave bruises, burying himself as deep as he could go. He groaned your name, a guttural sound of total surrender and dominance, as he came deep inside you, filling you with his heat.

He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily, his heart hammering against your back. He kissed the nape of your neck, his voice returning to that sweet, protective tone that hid the monster underneath.

"I've got you, baby. You're never leaving this bed."

And as you lay there, drenched in sweat and seed, you smiled against the pillow, knowing that you would never let him go either.

[lovzy7]

WELL, SHOW ME • N. RIKI

------------------------------------------------------

( 니시무라 리키 ) In which - Your fake boyfriend and dance partner unexpectedly becomes your sex teacher, determined to show you what you’ve been missing.

~3.4K

Warnings / Tags: smut, mature content, dirty talk, heavy sexual tension, fake dating, enemies, tension, dance partners, sexual tension, oral sex (female rec), fingering, aftercare

now playing ‧₊˚♪ : High For This by The Weeknd

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3(now on!)

------------------------------------------------------

The car ride to Riki’s house stretches on in silence, the only sounds being the low rumble of his engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. My body still buzzes from the dance session we just had, the one where I apparently danced stiff.

Now we’re heading to his place because he helping me 'loosen up' aka fixing something I’ve never experienced before: an actual orgasm.

When we pull into his driveway, the house sits dark and quiet. I glance around as we step out. “Aren’t any of your roommates home?” I ask, suspicion creeping into my voice.

“No.” Riki answers simply, unlocking the door. He doesn’t explain further, just holds it open. I follow him inside. He leads me straight upstairs to his bedroom without flipping on any lights.

The room is larger than I expected. A wide bed with dark sheets and a solid wooden headboard dominates the space. A desk in the corner is cluttered with notes, textbooks and a half-empty water bottle. Riki shuts the door behind us with a soft click.

He crosses the room and sits on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his hands. “You know, I find it kinda crazy you’ve never come before during sex. How bad is your experience?” Riki asked, his eyes staying locked on me.

I shift on my feet, suddenly feeling exposed even though I’m still fully dressed. “Well, um, my ex was always too tired after he came to go further so—” . “You just said you came so it would be over?” Riki finishes my sentence, his voice low and direct.

“Am I that transparent?” I said, more to myself than to him.

“Well—yes.” Riki said, sitting up straighter as he reached for the hem of his tank top. In one smooth motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. My breath catches hard. His chest is broad, every muscle carved under smooth skin. A perfect six-pack ripples as he moves, and the deep V-lines at his hips disappear beneath his waistband. I’ve seen him shirtless in pictures from hockey games, but seeing it in person hits different. This is next level.

“Well,” he continues, watching my reaction, “that’s sad. A man is supposed to make the woman come first before himself, or not even at all. Anyways, let’s do this mission; get you loose for that dance stuff.”

“And how are we going to do that?” I ask, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.

“Let’s just start with foreplay. You know how to make out, right?” There’s genuine concern in his tone, like he’s actually worried I might not. “Do I know how to make out? I’m the best. Don’t play with me right now—”

“Well, show me. My lap is yours, Buttercup.” His voice has that snarky edge again, but there’s heat underneath it.

I walk over to him with full confidence, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. My knees sink into the mattress on either side of his hips as I lean against the headboard for support. We’re close now; close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips.

“Well, go on—” Riki says, his voice dropping into something husky. Without thinking too much about it, I grab his neck with both hands and pull him in.

He’s taken aback for a second by the move, but then he takes over. One of his hands comes up to fully hold my neck, fingers wrapping around the sides, while the other slides down to my waist. The kiss starts fast and turns rough quickly. His tongue pushes into my mouth, claiming space, and I meet him with equal hunger.

I can feel him growing hard beneath me, the thick length of his cock pressing against my core through our clothes. I start grinding down on him without even realizing I’m doing it, rolling my hips in small circles.

Moaning into his mouth, I can already tell how big he is. The pressure against my clit is driving me crazy, and I grind harder, chasing that friction. Riki breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at me. His lips are swollen, eyes dark.

“Fuck, you’re needy, aren’t you, Choi? Let me help you.”

In one swift movement, he picks me up off his lap and flips me onto my back. My head lands on his pillows, and he’s already moving down between my legs. His hands hook into the waistband of my pants.

“Can I?” he asks, playing with the fabric.

I nod.

“Words.” he says, voice low, still teasing.

“Yes—”

He pulls my pants down in one motion, leaving me in just my soaked panties. The wet spot is obvious, the fabric clinging to my folds. Riki’s eyes darken even more.

“Fuck, only from grinding on me?” His fingers press against me through the thin material, rubbing slow circles over my clit. I moan at the contact, hips jerking up.

“Fuck—” I hiss, the sensation shooting through me.

Riki takes that as his cue. He hooks his fingers into my panties and drags them down my legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Then he settles between my thighs, spreading them wider with his hands. His breath ghosts over my exposed pussy, hot and teasing.

“Look at this pretty cunt,” he murmurs, voice rough. “So wet already. You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? Been needing someone to actually take care of you.”

Before I can answer, his tongue drags a long, slow stripe from my entrance up to my clit. I gasp, back arching off the bed. He doesn’t waste time!

His mouth seals over my clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks against it in quick, precise movements. One of his hands comes up to hold my hip down, keeping me from squirming away from the overwhelming sensation.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” he groans against my pussy, the vibration making me whimper. “I could stay down here all night. You’re dripping for me, baby. This little clit is so swollen already.”

His tongue circles my entrance before pushing inside, fucking me with it in shallow thrusts. Then he moves back up, sucking my clit harder while two fingers slide through my wetness. He pushes one finger inside me slowly, curling it against my inner walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” he says, pulling back just enough to speak. “When’s the last time someone actually fingered you properly? Your ex probably just shoved his dick in and called it a day, didn’t he?”

I can’t answer; my brain is too scrambled from the way his finger is stroking that spot inside me while his tongue works my clit. He adds a second finger, stretching me, and starts pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm.

“That’s it, take my fingers like a good girl. Your pussy is clenching around them already. You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

He’s right. The pressure is building fast, coiling tight in my lower belly. My hands find their way into his hair without thinking, fingers threading through the soft strands. When he sucks hard on my clit again, I pull; hard. Riki groans loudly against my pussy, the sound vibrating through me.

“Fuck, do that again.” he growls. “Pull my hair while I eat this pretty cunt. Show me how good it feels.”

I tug again, harder this time, and he moans into me. The combination of his fingers curling inside me, his tongue lashing my clit, and the way he’s clearly getting off on me pulling his hair is pushing me over the edge. My thighs start shaking around his head.

“Riki—fuck—I’m—”

“Come for me.” he demands, voice muffled against my pussy. “Come on my tongue, baby. Let me taste you.”

The orgasm hits me like a wave crashing over my body. My back arches hard off the bed, thighs clamping around Riki’s head as I come. I pull his hair roughly, holding him against me while I ride it out. He doesn’t stop; his tongue keeps working me through it, fingers still pumping, drawing out every last tremor. I can feel myself pulsing around his fingers, wetness coating his chin and mouth.

When it finally subsides, I collapse back against the pillows, breathing hard. Riki slowly pulls his fingers out and presses one last soft kiss to my sensitive clit before lifting his head. His face is glistening with my arousal, lips swollen and red. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Fuck, that was beautiful.” he says, voice hoarse. “First time coming and you pulled my hair so hard I almost came in my pants. Good girl.”

He crawls up my body and pulls me into his arms, tucking me against his chest. One hand strokes my hair gently while the other rubs slow circles on my back. The aftercare is surprisingly tender after how rough he was with his mouth.

“You can stay here tonight.” he murmurs against my hair. “It’s too late to go home. I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch.”

I blink, still coming down from the high. “Wait—don’t you want... anything?” My eyes drop to the obvious bulge in his pants. “It looks like it hurts.”

Riki glances down at himself and shrugs, completely unbothered. “Don’t worry about me. Like I said, a man should make the woman come first; or just not at all. Tonight was your night.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, then stands up. I watch as he adjusts himself in his pants with a wince, then walks toward the door.

“Get some rest, Choi. We’ve got dance practice tomorrow.”

———

taglist: @bluepains @starryeyedrookie @xyvzvee @kookzgirll @firstclassjaylee @arasdaydream7 @ori2ari @wonberryjam @ddolleri @ily6968 @kenziii2013 @xoheedeung @cupidiorr @jakebitez @sievenderz @karynnoona @hoonieslove @cla-1r @norahsturns @moontmoochi @matchayumeee @leeknowstoes00 @comicsandfanfics @penghoonie812 @bingka @beomxmii @heelvcr @kristynaaah @severestarlightcurse @yxnkiexe @ocyeanica03 @beadadoodee @yamzz67 @enhaxlhs @mashiimashii15 @luxynjun @hopetiger10 @fouldiplomatpapershark @stillillies @winniepoohs-stuff @bluefilmd @oiosoobin @iloverikiiii

[ensomniiac]

bf!ni-ki x f!reader

semi-nsfw (mdni?): mentions past sexual encounters between nik and reader ; everything else is ni-ki being a lil snob while he takes care of reader for a night ;

1,806:WC request✉️

sry if it’s not exactly what you asked for, I have horrible writers block 😓

“You don’t have to lie to get me to take a shower with you…” you say softly, attempting to distract him by sliding your hands up his shirt as you get closer.

“Mmm…you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, lowering his voice slightly as he makes you believe he’s letting you get to him.

You come up on your toes; inches away from making the connection before Ni-ki grabs your wrists and takes them out from under his shirt to raise them above your head.

“Unfortunately for you, I like a little meat on my girl.” He says, taking your shirt off with your arms up like this, “so, until she has a proper meal…and a decent shower…no dick.”

The face you make in pure shock is only funny to him; he was worried the crudeness of literally everything that just left his mouth would have struck out with you.

But at least you found them a little funny.

“Seriously?” You ask, completely ignoring the fact that he’s actually undressing you to focus more on the fact that he’s doing it so you’ll shower.

Ni-ki shrugs, tossing your bra behind him carelessly, “you haven’t been taking your supplements either, I’m surprised you think you have the energy to even keep up with me.”

It’s when he’s unbuttoned your jeans that you even begin to swat his hand away, “I can do it.” You scoff, sliding your thumbs under the waistband to pull them down yourself.

While you do that, he pulls his own shirt off over his head as he walks towards the shower, turning it on so it’s warm by the time you get in first.

“I don’t want you in there if you’re not going to take me seriously.” You say, walking past him.

“Aww, baby.” He coos, taking a little longer outside the shower while he finishes getting undressed.

You knew he’d follow you in; that’s not why you look at him so unamused when he does.

“You suck…” you sigh, crossing your arms as he comes under the water with you.

“Deal with it,” he shrugs, running his hands through his hair to slick it back.

You roll your eyes, attempting to ignore him as you try to get through the shower quickly so you can get back to your laptop to write your report.

You wash your body; your face.

But the minute you try to get out without washing your hair, a hand on your shoulder stops you from moving further.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What? Do you want a kiss goodbye?” You ask, a little mocking as you shrug his hand off.

“Your hair.” He points out, tapping your forehead as a not-so-gentle reminder.

“I washed my hair like two days ago.”

And when he makes a face at this, you find yourself having to explain something you’ve probably mentioned a million times before.

“You aren’t supposed to wash your hair so often.” You say, “wetting it is fine, but washing it strips it—“

“Doooon’t careeee,” he drags, pulling you back under the water as he turns you around.

You don’t even get to form your next sentence before you watch him put shampoo in his palms and hear it slosh as he lathers it in his hands.

“You’re unbelievable.” You sigh, relaxing a little as he starts washing your hair for you.

“Isn’t this so nice?” He asks, half-ignoring you, “I didn’t think showering together would be so fun.”

“We’ve showered together before…” you remind, closing your eyes as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“No, we’ve had sex in the shower before.” He corrects, “nothing about those times could be considered a real shower.”

He uses one hand to shield your face from the shampoo as it starts to rinse out with the water; the other hand helps it come off faster by fluffing your hair.

“Can I get out now?” You sigh, turning around to face him once you feel him finish up.

“Yes, my love,” he says sweetly, reaching behind you to turn the water off, “we can get out now.”

You find no use in fighting him every step of the way.

Instead, you let him drape a towel over your shoulders and lead you out of the shower before he grabs his own towel and wraps it around his waist.

While you dry off and brush your hair, Ni-ki leaves and comes back with some clothes he’d set aside before your shower to bring it to you.

Really, it’s mostly his clothes; a shirt of his and a pair of shorts for you, but nothing but a pair of sweatpants for him.

He’s dry and dressed before you are, but he doesn’t leave, even after apparently getting you to do what he wanted you to.

“Can I help you?” You ask, pulling your shorts on before the shirt.

“Yes, you can.” Ni-ki nods, pulling the cabinet open and taking out two face masks before dropping them on the counter in front of you.

“Open those up for us,” he says, grabbing your towel and dropping it on your head before his hands come up over it.

“I don’t need you to dry my hair for me…”

But you let him do it regardless.

“Yeah, you do,” Ni-ki corrects, “you’re my baby, and I need to take care of you.”

You endure it just a little longer; if you entertain him, he might let you get away with a late night to finish your report.

Once you seem to realize that he won’t let up and make it easier for him to dote on you, his smile is stuck on his face.

He gets you to let him put the face mask on for you; and when you do it for him, he teases you about playing hard to get when you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

But just when you think you’ve been freed; Ni-ki appears suddenly just as you’ve made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Lift your legs up,” he says, holding up a plate while he offers you his arm to hold your legs up for you.

Ni-ki comes under them; draping them over his lap before he pushes your laptop a little off to the side to use your legs as a table.

It’s a large version of the sandwich he makes himself; and you almost think it’s for him before he grabs it and holds it up for you to take the first bite.

“Ahh…”

The masks are split down the middle horizontally, so it’s not that hard to open your mouth wide enough to take a bite of the sandwich.

And while you chew, Ni-ki’s taking his own bite, making it clear he means to share this sandwich.

“You should get to work. We’re only staying up for an hour before I make you go to bed.” He encourages gently.

You narrow your eyes at him.

Is he really going to insist this far?

Part of you believes he will; the other is already planning to ignore him for the sake of work.

Then again, he seems like he’d take your laptop or physically put you in bed himself.

“Fine…whatever…” you sigh, turning your attention back to your laptop to open up your company’s program.

As you open the necessary files and previously made documents, Ni-ki alternates the sandwich between you and him.

While you read, you offer to hold the sandwich yourself, but he won’t let you.

You don’t notice for being engrossed in your laptop, but Ni-ki barely eats the sandwich himself; you’re the one who takes the last few bites and the one who ate most of it before it finished.

This was intentional though. Ni-ki just needed to make sure you ate a decent amount; he wasn’t counting on you to be so distracted.

“Hour’s up,” Ni-ki announces, patting your thigh to rush you a little into turning everything off.

You’d been monitoring your clock closely, so you knew this in advance and could save everything before Ni-ki could get impatient and close your laptop for you in the middle of anything.

While you do that, he picks his face mask off and then reaches for yours.

And once your laptop is turned off and closed, he grabs it off your lap and places it on the coffee table for you.

“You can’t take most of your vitamins at night. It’s bad for you apparently,” Ni-ki explains, sliding out from under your legs to stand up first, “besides, it would ruin your schedule to take your supplements at night versus in the morning.”

He holds his hand out and helps you on your feet, turning off the lamp near the couch before he starts leading you away.

“I could have told you that…” you mumble, not necessarily annoyed.

“Mmm, but you didn’t,” he points out, a little condescending in the way he scrunches his face at you, “It’s okay. That’s why you have me.”

He leaves you on your side of the bed to walk around it to his side; you hadn’t even noticed he took your phone until you saw him connecting it to his charger.

“How are you supposed to charge your phone?” You ask, crossing your arms as you stay on your feet.

“I can charge it tomorrow.” He shrugs, placing your phone on his nightstand before reaching to pull the covers back.

“What do you think I’ll do with it?”

“You have access to your work email and your accounts on there, right?” He asks, mimicking your position as he stops for a little.

You narrow your eyes at him a little; okay, how does he know that?

“How many times do I have to tell you, baby? There’s no tricking me, I know better.” He says, coming under the covers and getting you to do the same.

“You guessed.”

Ni-ki shakes his head, reaching out to pull you closer to him, “I’ve been alive longer, I know everything you know and more.”

You roll your eyes, finding no way out of this tonight and giving into it.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you could have possibly learned in those few days.”

“It’s okay, you’ll catch up in a few days.” He assures, leaning into you before he stops and picks his head up again, “but by then, I will have learned something new…so maybe you’ll never catch up…”

You smack his arm, “close your eyes.”

Ni-ki smiles, peppering you in a few kisses before he abandons the insistent/bossy demeanor to settle down for the night.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep; it’s easier when you’re clean from head to toe, closing your eyes on a full stomach, and with your boyfriend beside you.

reader isn’t funky, she jst doesn’t wash her hair to get out of the shower quicker to get to work — also, me and that fuckass sandwich are gonna go toe to toe with each other over niki

enha tl: @kristynaaah @la-choiblog @baskinginvellichor

[bellaflippy]

angels dance

pairing ✧˖°. brothersbsf!riki x jays sister!reader (f)

synopsis ✧˖°.  you sneak downstairs to your brothers halloween party dressed as an angel and run into his best friend riki. after jay finds you, riki carries you upstairs and convinces you to stay with him instead of going back to the party. drinks, a blunt, and tension lead to your first real time with the hung, cocky boy who purrs like a puma and chokes you while he claims you as his.

contains ✧˖°. explicit sexual content ; age gap ; inexperienced reader ; hung riki ; cocky riki ; purring/growling kink ; choking ; breath play ; halloween party setting ; smoking weed ; drinking ; brother's best friend ; pet names (angel, doll, ect) ; praise kink ; dirty talk ; rough sex ; protected sex (never socket an unwrapped rocket!!) ; possessive behavior ; aftercare ; emotional begging ; jay finding them ; sexual tension ; grinding/dancing ; oral sex ; fingering ; multiple orgasms ; wc: 6.6k ; i probably missed some.. just read it pls

notes ✧˖°. i actualy fw this SO HARDDD OMGGGG!! this was based off this ask, thank you SO much @orangebloodrikibiggesthyper you truly cooked so hard with this. warning: i DID listen to pnd while writing this... im horny as hell LMFAO. PLS ENJOY :)

you stand in front of your mirror for the third time, turning sideways to check how the skirt falls.

the angel costume had been an impulse buy, something you grabbed at the costume shop two days ago when you realized jay was actually going through with this party.

white lace everywhere, a bodice that hugs your chest more than youre used to, and a skirt that flares out in layers of tulle. it hits mid thigh, shorter than anything your parents let you wear to school, but youre eighteen now. youre an adult. you can wear what you want.

the halo sits on your head, held up by a thin wire headband, and the wings strap around your shoulders, white feathers that brush against your lower back when you move.

you look... you look pretty, actually. pretty and innocent and sweet.

which is exactly why jay is going to lose his mind.

but thats part of the appeal, isnt it? the thought of your older brothers face when he sees you downstairs, in his space, at his party. the way his jaw will tighten and his eyes will narrow. the way hell try to order you back upstairs like youre still twelve.

youre not twelve anymore. youre eighteen, youre legal, and you want to see what a real party looks like.

the music starts around nine, thumping bass that vibrates through your floorboards and into your bones. youve been in your room for two hours, listening to the sounds of people arriving, laughter echoing up the stairs, bottles clinking. you checked your phone forty minutes ago and saw a text from jay

jay

stay upstairs. seriously. dont come down

you didnt reply.

now its ten thirty, and the party is in full swing. you can hear shouting, someone singing badly to a song you recognize, the general chaos of too many people in one space. you take a deep breath, adjust your halo one last time, and open your bedroom door.

the hallway is dark, lit only by the orange string lights jay hung earlier. you pad down the carpet in your white ankle boots, heart hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat. halfway down the stairs, you pause and peek over the railing.

the living room is transformed. the furniture has been pushed against the walls, the coffee table is covered in red cups and bottles, and the floor is packed with bodies. someone brought a fog machine, and it pumps thick white mist that swirls around peoples legs.

the lights are dim, purple and orange and red, casting everything in strange shadows. strobe lights flicker in the corner, making the dancers look like theyre moving in stop motion.

you spot jay near the kitchen entrance, dressed as a vampire with a cape and fake blood dripping from his mouth. hes laughing at something, a cup in his hand, surrounded by his friends. he looks happy, relaxed, completely unaware that youre about to crash his night.

you take the last few stairs quickly, before you can change your mind, and slip into the crowd.

the music is loud, some remix with a heavy bass line that makes your chest vibrate. the air smells like sweat and cheap beer and someones vanilla perfume. you weave through dancing bodies, murmuring "sorry" when you bump into a guy dressed as a zombie, keeping your head down and your wings tucked close.

the kitchen is slightly less crowded, and you make your way toward the counter where someone set up a makeshift bar.

youre not planning to drink much, just enough to look like you belong. you reach for a cup, and thats when you hear it.

"well, well, well."

the voice is low and smooth and comes from directly behind you. you freeze, cup halfway to your lips, and turn slowly.

riki is leaning against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest, looking completely at ease in a pair of black jeans and a black button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

hes drawn stitches across his cheeks and forehead in silver marker, giving him a frankenstein vibe, but the effect is less monster and more... something else. something that makes your stomach flip.

hes twenty now, only two years older than you, but sometimes he seems so much more grown up.

hes been jays best friend since middle school, has practically grown up in your house. youve known him for years, watched him go from a skinny kid to the tall, lean man standing in front of you now.

"riki," you breathe. "hey."

"hey?" he repeats, one eyebrow arching up. he pushes off the fridge and steps closer, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. theyre dark in the dim light, fixed on your face with an intensity that makes you want to squirm. "thats all youve got? hey?"

"what do you want me to say?" you ask, trying to sound confident even as your voice wavers.

"how about explaining why youre down here when jay specifically told you to stay upstairs?" he stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell his cologne, something woodsy and warm.

"how about telling me why youre dressed like that, looking like a little lamb wandering into a wolves den?"

"i look fine," you say, lifting your chin.

"you look..." his gaze drags down your body, slow and deliberate, from your halo to your heeled boots. he takes his time, his eyes lingering on your chest, your waist, your legs. "you look like trouble, angel. like you walked straight out of a dream and into a nightmare."

"i can handle myself," you say, but the words dont sound as certain as you want them to.

"can you?" he reaches out, his fingers brushing your cheek, and you freeze. his touch is warm, calloused, and he traces the edge of your jaw with his thumb. "look at you. all dressed in white. pure and sweet and innocent. do you have any idea what half the guys down here are thinking right now? do you know what they want to do to a pretty little thing like you?"

"riki," you whisper, your face heating.

"you shouldnt be here," he says softly, his thumb moving to trace your lower lip. he makes a low sound in his throat, almost like a purr, pleased and rumbly. "jay would lose his mind. hes already looking for you, you know. asked me ten minutes ago if id seen his sister. said he saw someone in white near the stairs and got worried."

panic spikes through you. "he saw me?"

"he saw someone," riki corrects, his hand sliding down to cup your jaw. "but he doesnt know it was you. not yet. hes making the rounds, checking the bathrooms. youve got maybe five minutes before he figures it out."

"what do i do?" you ask, your voice small.

riki studies you for a long moment, his thumb stroking your cheek. then he sighs, a soft sound that seems to come from deep in his chest. "come with me," he says, taking your hand. his fingers thread through yours, easy and confident. "ill keep you safe. but you have to do what i say. can you do that, doll? can you be good for me?"

the petname sends a shiver down your spine. "yes," you whisper. "ill be good."

"thats my girl," he murmurs, and that low purr rumbles in his throat again. he leads you through the crowd.

he keeps you close, his body shielding you from view, his hand tight on yours. he navigates the party like he knows every corner, every hiding spot, pulling you into the small space between the fridge and the wall where the shadows are thickest. from here, you can see the kitchen entrance, can watch jay as he moves through the room, his vampire cape swirling around him.

"hes going to find me," you whisper, pressing yourself against the wall.

"not if i can help it," riki says. hes standing in front of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "but if he does, you let me do the talking. you dont say a word. you just look pretty and keep your mouth shut. can you do that, sweetheart?"

"yes," you breathe, looking up at him.

"good girl," he says, and that purring sound vibrates again, deeper this time. his eyes drop to your mouth.

he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "you know," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, "you shouldve dressed up as a doll instead of an angel. wouldve suited you better."

you pull back slightly, confused. "what?"

"a doll," he repeats, his gaze roaming over your face. "all pretty and fragile, waiting for someone to pick you up and play with you. thats what you look like, isnt it? a little doll that wandered into the wrong toy box. my pretty little doll."

the words send another shiver through you, and youre not sure if its from the air conditioning or the way hes looking at you. "thats creepy, riki."

"is it?" he laughs, a low sound that you feel more than hear, almost like a growl. "maybe. but im not wrong. you look like you need someone to take care of you. someone to keep you safe and put you back on the shelf when the games over."

"and thats you?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the music. "youre going to take care of me?"

"if you let me," he says, his eyes serious now. "if you trust me."

before you can answer, jays voice cuts through the noise, calling for heeseung, and riki blinks, pulling back slightly. "hes getting closer," he murmurs. "stay here. dont move."

he pushes away from the wall and steps into the kitchen, intercepting jay before he can get too close to your hiding spot. you cant hear what theyre saying over the music, but you see jay gesture sharply, his expression frustrated, and riki nod, clapping him on the shoulder. after a minute, jay turns and walks back toward the living room, and riki returns to you, his expression unreadable.

"what did you tell him?" you ask.

"told him i saw you upstairs, in your room, asleep," riki says, taking your hand again. "bought you some time. but hes suspicious. hes going to check eventually."

"what do we do?"

riki looks down at you, his gaze softening slightly. "we get you out of here. come on."

he leads you through the kitchen, but instead of going toward the back door, he turns toward the living room. "riki," you hiss, pulling back. "jay is in there."

"exactly," he says. "hes looking in the bathrooms, the porch, the garage. he wont expect you to be in the middle of the crowd. sometimes the best hiding spot is right in plain sight."

he pulls you into the mass of dancing bodies, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, shielding you from view. you can feel his chest against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he sways with you to the music.

"just relax," he murmurs in your ear. "look like youre having fun. like you belong here."

you try to do as he says, letting your body move with his, your hips swaying to the beat. his hands stay on your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against the fabric of your skirt. you feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the music and the heat and the feel of him pressed against you. you can feel something hard against your lower back, thick and heavy even through his jeans, and your face heats as you realize what it is.

"thats it, angel," he whispers, grinding slightly against you, letting you feel how big he is. "just like that. youre doing so good."

you lose track of time, dancing with him, his body guiding yours. he gets you a drink, something pink and sweet in a plastic cup, and you sip it while he keeps his arms around you, his presence a wall between you and the rest of the world. he calls you doll when he thinks youre being cute, angel when he thinks youre being naive, sweetheart when hes being tender. the names blend together, wrapping around you like a blanket.

at one point, he spins you around to face him, his hands on your hips, and you look up at him, breathless. "youre beautiful," he says, his voice barely audible over the bass. "you know that? been staring at you all night. couldnt help myself."

"riki," you breathe, your heart hammering.

"my pretty little doll," he murmurs, his forehead dropping to yours. "my sweet angel. what are you doing to me?"

you dont get a chance to answer, because thats when you hear it.

"riki."

the voice cracks through the noise like a whip, and you both freeze. jay stands at the edge of the dance floor, his vampire cape slightly askew, his eyes wide and then narrowing dangerously as he takes in the scene. you pressed against riki, his hands on your hips, your empty cup on the floor beside you.

"oh, shit," you breathe.

"jay," riki says, his voice calm, almost lazy. he doesnt move his hands from your waist. "whats up?"

"whats up?" jay strides across the floor, ignoring the people who scatter out of his way. he stops in front of you, his jaw tight. "ive been looking everywhere for you. heeseung said he saw someone in white near the stairs an hour ago. i knew it was you. i told you to stay upstairs."

"i'm sorry," you start, but jay isn't listening.

"and you," he whips around to face riki, his voice rising. "i told you. i specifically told you. if you see her, if you see my sister at this party, you bring her upstairs. immediately. thats what you said youd do."

the area around you has gone quiet, people watching the scene unfold with the morbid fascination of drunk partygoers sensing drama.

riki straightens up, finally dropping his hands from your waist. he looks at jay, then at you, then back at jay. "what do you think im doing?" he asks, his voice still infuriatingly calm.

"youre standing here dancing with her!" jay explodes. "shes drunk, riki. look at her. and youre just... youre just..."

"i'm watching her," riki says. "keeping her safe. which is more than i can say for you, since you let her wander down here in the first place."

jay opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "just... just take her upstairs. please. throw her in her room or something. i can't deal with this right now."

"gladly," riki says.

before you can process what's happening, he moves. one second hes standing beside you, the next hes bending down and his shoulder is hitting your stomach. you let out a shriek as he lifts you, his arm wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady as he straightens up, dangling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"riki!" you gasp, your face burning as you realize your skirt has ridden up, your ass practically hanging out in your white lace panties. "put me down!"

"nope," he says, his hand settling possessively on the back of your thigh, his fingers dangerously close to where your skirt ends. "orders are orders."

"riki, please," you whimper, squirming, but he just tightens his grip.

"stop moving, doll," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "unless you want everyone to see whats under that skirt."

you go still, mortified, as riki turns and carries you through the crowd. you can hear jay calling after him, something about locking you in, but the words blur together with the music and the blood rushing in your ears. riki's shoulder digs into your stomach with every step, his hand warm and firm on your thigh, and youre dizzy from the alcohol and the upside down position and the feel of his fingers so close to...

"here we are," he says, and then youre being lowered, your feet touching the floor of your bedroom. you stumble, grabbing his arm for balance, and he steadies you with a hand on your waist.

the door clicks shut behind him.

you stand there, breathing hard, your halo askew and your wings bent. your skirt is still hiked up, and you hastily tug it down, your face flaming. anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and sudden.

"why would you do that?" you demand, your voice shaking. "you said he wouldnt come over. you said wed be safe down there. i was having fun, riki. i was actually having fun for once."

riki blinks, surprised by your outburst. "y/n..."

"no," you say, backing away from him. "you promised. you said youd keep me safe and let me stay at the party. but the second jay told you to do something, you just... you just obeyed. you didnt even fight for me. you just picked me up like a child and carried me away."

"thats not fair," he says quietly.

"isnt it?" you cross your arms over your chest, your eyes pricking with tears. "i thought you were different. i thought you actually understood. but youre just like him. you just want to control me too."

riki is quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "relax," he says softly. "wouldnt you rather have fun with me alone up here, instead of downstairs and being cautious of what youre doing?"

the question catches you off guard. "what?"

"wouldnt you rather be up here," he repeats, stepping closer, "away from all those people, away from your brother watching your every move, away from having to hide and sneak around... just you and me? wouldnt you rather that, doll? no rules. no jay. just us."

you stare at him, your anger faltering. "youre staying?"

"if you want me to," he says, stopping in front of you. "i can go back down. can tell jay im checking on you, make sure youre asleep. or..." he reaches out, his fingers tracing your jaw. "or i can stay. keep you company. make sure you dont get lonely. show you how much fun we can have, just the two of us."

your breath catches. "youd do that?"

"for you?" he pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "id do anything for you, angel. havent you figured that out yet?"

you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. the anger is gone now, replaced by something warmer, heavier. "okay," you breathe. "okay. stay."

his smile is slow, spreading across his face like honey. he makes that purring sound again, low and pleased. "thats my girl," he murmurs. "thats my good girl."

he pulls something from his back pocket with one hand and pulls out two small bottles of pink lemonade, the kind that comes in the glass bottles. then he reaches into his other pocket and produces a small baggie, the contents dark and pungent.

you eyes widen. "riki. is that...?"

"just a little something to help you relax," he says, his voice casual. "you ever smoked before, princess?"

"no," you admit. "ive been around it. but i never... i was always too scared."

"scared of what?"

"of losing control," you say quietly. "of doing something stupid."

riki is quiet for a moment. then he squeezes you gently. "you wont do anything stupid," he says. "not with me here. ill take care of you. i wont let anything bad happen. you trust me?"

you think about it. you think about all the years hes been in your life, all the times hes been kind to you, protective of you. you think about the way he looks at you, like youre precious, like youre his.

"yes," you whisper. "i trust you."

"good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thats my sweet girl. well start slow, okay? just a little. enough to take the edge off."

he finds your lighter in your desk drawer, the one you use for candles, and rolls the blunt with practiced fingers. he lights it, the tip glowing orange, and holds it to your lips.

"just inhale a little," he instructs. "hold it. let it out slow."

you do as he says, the smoke burning your throat, making you cough. he laughs softly, a warm sound that vibrates against your back, and rubs circles on your arm.

"easy," he murmurs. "try again. smaller this time."

the second hit is easier, and by the third, youre holding the smoke in your lungs like he showed you, letting it out in a slow stream toward the ceiling. he takes a hit himself, his chest expanding against your back, and then offers it to you again.

"time for a drink," he says, opening one of the bottles and handing it to you. "thisll help with the burn."

you sip, the sweet liquid coating your throat, and he opens his own bottle. the two of you pass the blunt back and forth, sipping your drinks, and slowly the tension drains from your body. you feel floaty, warm, safe in the circle of his arms.

"how you feeling, angel?" he asks, his lips brushing your ear.

"good," you sigh, your head lolling back against his shoulder. "really good."

"yeah?" his hand slides down your arm, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "you look good. look relaxed. look pretty."

"you think im pretty?" you ask, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

"i think youre beautiful," he says, his voice serious. "think youre the prettiest girl ive ever seen. been thinking about you for years, you know. watching you grow up. waiting."

"waiting for what?"

"for you to be ready," he says. his hand moves to your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. "for you to want me like i want you."

your breath catches. "you want me?"

"so bad," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes a low growling sound, like a puma staking claim. "so fucking bad, doll. you have no idea. seeing you tonight, in this little outfit... do you know how hard it was not to drag you out of that party the second i saw you? how hard it was to keep my hands off you?"

"why did you?" you ask, turning your head to look at him. "why didnt you just...?"

"because youre jays sister," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "because youre younger. because you deserve better than some guy pawing at you in a dark corner. but mostly..." he swallows hard. "mostly because i wanted you to choose me. not because you were drunk or scared or caught up in the moment. but because you really wanted me."

"i do want you," you whisper, the words coming out braver than you feel. "i choose you, riki. i want you."

his eyes darken, his hand tightening on your thigh. "you dont know what youre saying, baby. youre high. youre drunk."

"i know exactly what im saying," you insist, turning more fully in his lap so youre facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. "i want you, riki. ive wanted you for so long. please."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling rapidly. then he groans, a sound torn from deep in his chest, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a kiss.

its not gentle. its not sweet. its hungry, desperate, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you, his fingers tangling in your hair, knocking your halo to the floor. you whimper into his mouth, your hands clutching his shoulders, and he growls, standing up with you in his arms.

he carries you the three steps to your bed and drops you onto it, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress. he kisses you until you cant breathe, his hands roaming over your body, pushing your wings aside, tugging at the zipper of your costume.

"wait," you gasp as he drags his mouth down your neck. "riki, wait. ive never... i mean, i have, but only once. and it was... it wasnt good. i dont really know what im doing. im sorry."

he pauses immediately, lifting his head to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen, but his expression is soft. tender. "hey," he says, his voice gentle. he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "hey, its okay. its okay, princess. well go slow. ill take care of you. i promise."

"okay," you breathe, your heart slowing slightly. "okay. just... tell me what to do."

"ill tell you everything," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "ill show you. just relax for me. can you do that? can you relax and let me make you feel good?"

"yes," you whisper. "yes, please."

"good girl," he says, his smile sweet. "such a good girl for me."

he sits back on his heels and slowly, carefully, peels your costume off you. the zipper slides down, the fabric parting, and he lifts it over your head, leaving you in just your white lace bra and panties. his breath hitches, his gaze raking over you with something like reverence.

"look at you," he breathes. "fuck, baby. look at you."

you try to cover yourself, embarrassed, but he catches your wrists, pinning them gently to your sides. "dont hide from me," he says softly. "youre perfect. so perfect. let me look at you, angel. please."

you let your arms fall, letting him see you, and his eyes darken even more. he leans down, pressing kisses to your collarbone, the swell of your breast, the valley between them. he unhooks your bra with one hand, tossing it aside, and then his mouth is on your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh until youre arching off the bed, moaning his name.

"riki, please," you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking friction.

"what do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. "tell me. use your words."

"i want you inside me," you gasp, the words shocking you even as you say them. "please, riki. i need you. i need you so bad."

he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he makes that purring sound again, deep and rumbling, vibrating against your skin. "fuck. okay. okay, baby. ive got you."

he strips quickly, his shirt and jeans and boxers hitting the floor in a pile, and you stare, your mouth going dry. hes beautiful, all lean muscle and smooth skin, and between his legs... your eyes go wide. hes huge, thick and long and heavy against his stomach, standing hard and proud. youve never seen anything like it. the guy youd been with before was nothing compared to this.

riki catches you staring and smirks, that cocky grin youve seen him give jay when he wins at video games. "like what you see, doll?" he asks, his voice dripping with confidence. he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly, showing off. "yeah, im big. bigger than you expected, isnt that right?"

you nod, unable to tear your eyes away. "riki, i dont know if... if youll fit..."

"ill fit," he says, his voice low and sure. "trust me, angel. ill make you take every inch. gonna stretch you out so good. gonna make you feel me for days." he crawls back over you, his cock dragging against your thigh, hot and heavy. "you want that? want me to fill you up? make you feel how big i am inside you?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming at his words. "please."

he reaches out tentatively, your fingers wrapping around him, and he hisses, his hips jerking forward. hes thick in your hand, impossibly so, and you stroke him slowly, marveling at the size of him.

"careful, doll," he grits out, but hes smirking, clearly loving the attention. "been dreaming about this for too long. wont last if you keep that up. especially not with your pretty little hands on me like that."

"sorry," you whisper, pulling your hand back.

"no," he says, catching your wrist. "dont be sorry. touch me. i want you to touch me. just... go slow. gotta get you ready first. dont want to hurt you."

you wrap your hand around him again, stroking slowly, watching his face. he groans, his eyes falling closed, that purr rumbling in his chest.

"thats it," he breathes. "just like that, baby. youre doing so good."

he lets you explore for a few minutes, his hips rocking into your touch, his breath coming faster. then he gently removes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm.

"lay back," he says softly. "spread your legs for me, angel. let me see you."

you do as he says, lying back against your pillows, your thighs falling open. he kneels between them, his hands sliding up your legs, his thumbs hooking in your panties. he drags them down slowly, his eyes locked on yours, and tosses them aside.

"beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your most intimate place. "so beautiful. so perfect. youre wet for me, arent you, doll? wet and ready?"

"yes," you whimper, your face flaming. "please, riki. please touch me."

"im going to do more than touch you," he says, his voice rough. he lowers his head, his tongue dragging up your center, and you cry out, your back bowing off the bed. he eats you like hes starving, his tongue circling your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, curling to find that spot that makes you see stars. he adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you for his size.

"riki, riki, please," you chant, your hands fisting in his hair, your hips rolling against his mouth.

"you taste so sweet," he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. "just like i knew you would. my little angel. my pretty doll. my perfect baby."

he keeps going, his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue relentless, until youre teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling. "gonna come," you warn, your voice high and breathy.

"come for me," he commands, his fingers curling harder, his tongue flicking faster. "come on my tongue, doll. let me taste you. give it to me, sweetheart."

you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. he doesnt stop, working you through it, his mouth gentling as you come down, his hands stroking your thighs, your hips, anywhere he can reach.

when you finally go limp, he crawls up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "good girl," he whispers. "so good for me. you did so good, baby. now youre ready for me. ready to take all of me."

"please," you whimper, your hands tugging at his shoulders. "please, riki. i need you inside me. please."

he reaches over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans and pulling out his wallet. he extracts a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth, and you watch, fascinated, as he rolls the condom down his length. even sheathed, he looks massive, and a flutter of nervousness goes through you.

"you sure?" he asks, positioning himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. "tell me if it hurts. well stop. we can stop anytime, okay?"

"i dont want to stop," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i want you. please."

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch. hes big, so big, filling you up until you feel like you might split apart. you gasp, your nails digging into his back, and he pauses, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead.

"okay?" he asks, his voice strained. "fuck, youre tight. so fucking tight around me, doll."

"yes," you breathe. "dont stop. please dont stop. youre so big, riki..."

"i know," he says, that cocky smirk back on his face. "feels good though, doesnt it? feels good to be stretched out on my cock? tell me how it feels, baby. tell me how big i am inside you."

"so big," you whimper, your head falling back. "youre so big. i can feel you everywhere."

"thats right," he groans, starting to move. "gonna make you take it all. gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name."

he starts moving, slow thrusts that gradually speed up as you relax around him. he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, and you moan, your head falling back against the pillow.

"there?" he asks, his voice rough.

"there," you confirm, your hands gripping his arms. "right there, riki. harder. please, harder."

he obliges, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with force that makes the bed creak. the room fills with the sounds of skin on skin, your moans, his grunts, the wet slide of him moving inside you. he makes that low purring growl with every thrust, the sound rumbling in his chest like a puma claiming its mate.

"you feel so good," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "so tight. so perfect. fuck, y/n. been dreaming about this. about you. my pretty little doll. my sweet angel. you taking my cock so good, baby. look at you. look how well you take me."

his hand finds your throat, his fingers wrapping around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just holding, and you gasp, your inner muscles fluttering around him.

"like that?" he asks, his thumb stroking your pulse point. "you like my hand here, baby?"

"yes," you whimper, the feeling of being held, being controlled, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "please. a little tighter, please."

his fingers tighten, just enough to restrict your airflow, and the world narrows to the point where hes touching you, where hes inside you, where hes holding you. you feel safe, cherished, owned. he growls, low and possessive, the sound vibrating through both of you.

"youre mine," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm. "this tight little pussy is mine now. say it. say youre mine, doll. say you belong to me."

"i'm yours," you gasp, your second orgasm building fast, coiling tight in your belly. "riki, i'm yours. please. please, i need to come. please let me come."

"come with me," he demands, his hand tightening just a fraction more. he makes that purring sound again, deep and constant now, like a cat thats found its favorite spot. "come on my cock, baby. now. squeeze me tight. let me feel you."

you explode, your vision whiting out, your whole body convulsing around him. he keeps fucking you through it, his hand finally leaving your throat to grip your hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. he thrusts twice more, three times, and then hes coming too, his head thrown back, a growl tearing from his throat as he spills into the condom.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot and fast against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant thump of the party downstairs.

"are you okay?" he finally asks, his voice muffled against your skin. he lifts his head, his eyes searching yours. "did i hurt you? was i too rough?"

"no," you say, your voice hoarse. you touch your throat, feeling the phantom pressure of his fingers. "that was... that was perfect. you were perfect."

he smiles, soft and sweet, and presses a kiss to your forehead. he purrs, low and content, nuzzling against your neck. "good," he murmurs. "thats good, angel. you did so good for me. took me so well. my good girl."

he pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash can by your desk. he finds his boxers and pulls them on, then grabs your discarded costume, using the soft fabric to gently clean between your thighs. you blush, trying to close your legs, but he tsks, his hands gentle but firm.

"let me take care of you," he says softly. "you did so good for me. let me make you feel good after. thats my job, isnt it? taking care of my girl?"

when hes finished, he tucks you into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. he finds your discarded halo on the floor and places it on your nightstand, then sits on the edge of your bed, his hand stroking your hair.

"you should sleep," he says quietly. "youve had a long night."

"are you leaving?" you ask, your heart sinking.

"i should," he says, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "jay will notice im gone. hell ask questions. i should go back down, make an appearance, then slip out."

your heart sinks. "no," you say, reaching out to grab his hand. "please. dont go. stay with me. i dont want to be alone."

"y/n," he sighs, his expression conflicted. "baby, i cant. your brother will..."

"please," you whisper, and your voice cracks, tears suddenly pricking at your eyes. the alcohol and the weed and the aftershocks of your orgasm have left you raw, vulnerable. "please, riki. i dont want to be alone. please stay. just until i fall asleep. please."

he stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on yours. he makes a low sound, almost a whine, conflicted and wanting. "fuck," he mutters under his breath, his eyes closing. "fuck. youre killing me, you know that?"

"please," you whisper again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

he opens his eyes, and the look in them is so tender, so full of longing, that it takes your breath away. "ill just tell your brother you were tipsy and couldnt sleep alone," he mumbles, more to himself than to you. "hell understand. he has to understand."

he stands, pulling back the covers and climbing in beside you. you immediately curl into him, your head on his chest, your arm draped over his waist. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. he purrs, low and steady, the vibration rumbling through his chest against your ear.

"thank you," you whisper, your eyes already drifting shut.

"anything for you, angel," he murmurs, his hand stroking slow circles on your back. the purring continues, a constant rumble of contentment. "anything for my girl. go to sleep now. ive got you. im right here."

"promise?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

"promise," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair. he growls softly, possessive and satisfied. "im not going anywhere. ill be here when you wake up. i promise."

you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat and his purring, safe in his arms, dreaming of halos and hands around your throat and a boy who finally made you his. the party rages on downstairs, but up here, in your little room, with riki holding you close, youve never felt more at home.

⋆˚✿˖°

an ✧˖°. soo.... howd we like it :) I LOVEDDD WRITING THISSS, i love me a good party setting lol. reblogs are always welcome!!! feedback is also greatly appreciated. if you enjoyed this story and would like to see something specific, dont be afraid to send an ask! :)

[afanok]

if you had a dick........i'd be bouncing on it rn

[heesroses]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ʜᴏᴍᴇ 愛 ᴘ.ᴊꜱ

WHEREIN years of unspoken feelings culminate in you and your childhood best friend, park jongseong, waking up tangled together in a hotel bed after a night spent together that you have no recollection of.

(𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢). p.js x reader. wc: 3.3k. fluff. angst. best friends to lovers. jay yearns for reader. suggestive. making out. crying. drinking.

──── ୨୧ ──── #30 🪽

elle’s thoughts ❀ hi! this is the first piece for my “echoes of you” writing event! it was based off of prompt 2 :) thank you to the lovely @courire for requesting it as well as @moonshinekissesss for requesting and providing thoughts for the plot! i hope you both enjoy <3 also, there are still a few prompts available, so please go to the post if you’d like to claim one!

Park Jongseong, or Jay as you affectionately called him, had never looked better.

You caught his eye from across the art-deco restaurant as soon as you stepped through the mahogany door, but you took no notice of the opulent space surrounding you. All you could focus on was the man who had broken into a wide grin as soon as he saw you. He was dressed simply but in a way that accentuated his best features: a tan suit jacket, crisp matching slacks, and a white button up that was undone just enough to allow a glimpse of his defined collarbones and upper chest.

You couldn’t help but return the smile as you made your way over to where he stood by the bar, and you paid no heed to the patrons wining and dining around you. The only thing you could focus on was Jay, memories from your past together washing over you.

ᝰ.ᐟ read more

Being raised in the same neighborhood in Seattle, you and Jay had been the best of friends growing up. The pair of you did everything together, from chasing the ice cream truck down your street to sneaking to the beach to look for seashells that reminded you of each other. Even after his family had moved to Seoul when you were nine, you and Jay kept in touch effortlessly. It was a rare sort of friendship—one in which the distance between you never really became a barrier that threatened your closeness.

Now, a decade and a half had passed, and you had visited each other a few times over the years, but it became increasingly difficult to find the time after you both became busy with your careers. Finally, though, you found a break in your grueling work schedule to fly to South Korea to visit him.

The moment you reached him, Jay held out his arms, and you found that it was all too easy to fall into his embrace. He pulled you to his chest, and your eyes fluttered closed as you inhaled the familiar scent of him—something earthy and subtle. He smelled like home.

“It’s been too long,” Jay murmured against your hair. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” You pulled back slightly, lifting your eyes to take in the features that you so dearly loved. “Let’s never go that long without seeing each other again.”

A smile cracked across his face. “I agree. Maybe you should just quit your job and move here.”

You snorted with laughter before raising an eyebrow. “Why should I have to quit my job? How about you quit yours and move back to Seattle?”

Of course, a part of you knew how difficult that would be for both of you. Jay had built a career for himself as a clinical psychologist—a job he had dreamt of since he was an introspective child, gazing up at the clouds and discussing his thoughts on the workings of the human mind. You had tried your best to understand, but even then, you knew that his brain was hard-wired for psychology in a way yours wasn’t.

“I suppose we’ll just have to see which one of us is going to move at the end of the week.”

“Guess so.”

After Jay had pulled out a plush patterned barstool for you to sit on and the waiter had been informed of your favorite cocktail, the air between you was immediately filled by easy conversation. Details of your travel, updates on both of your families, and your recent stories from your ever-entertaining job as a children’s librarian. With Jay, no matter how long it had been since you had last talked, it always felt as if you had never been apart.

And, as you and Jay continued sitting at that bar, completely focused on each other’s presence, the drinks flowed almost as easily as the conversation. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you to slow down, to stop throwing back cocktails like your life depended on it, but you paid it no attention. You were with your best friend in the entire world celebrating your reunion after so many years apart. What could possibly go wrong?

For better or for worse, you couldn’t remember a single thing from the previous night.

You came to with a start, immediately noticing that your head was pounding, your tongue was rougher than sandpaper, and you had absolutely no idea where you were.

You cracked your burning eyes open slightly, taking in the sight in front of you. The first thing you noticed was that you were in an upscale hotel room. The French grey curtains had been drawn closed, but a slight gap where the two halves met in the middle allowed a sliver of golden sunlight to filter into the room. The warm glow of the morning sun caught and illuminated the dust floating lazily in the air, creating what looked to be a sheet of light that led your eyes directly to something that immediately chilled your blood. Your clothes from the previous night, folded carefully on a chair, a few inches from an empty bottle of whiskey and two used glasses.

When did you take your clothes off? Why? Had you been drinking? As you pondered these questions, a chilling realization struck you square in the chest. There was a pair of toned arms wrapped loosely around your torso and the unfamiliar cadence of someone snoring softly in your ear.

As you took in your current state of being, you felt an all too familiar panic crescendo through your body—as if someone had lit your nerves ablaze. You suddenly felt too hot and cold at the same time, and your breaths began to leave your cracked lips in ragged bursts. What the hell had you done? And with who?

The longer you stayed there, constricted by the arms of a stranger, your vision began to darken at the edges as your gut twisted violently. You quickly extricated yourself from the stranger’s arms before rolling out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. You barely reached the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl, tears stinging your eyes.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

That voice. You recognized that voice. How could you not after everything you had been through together?

“Jay?”

As more of your senses awakened, you became acutely aware that a figure was approaching the bathroom. You extended a clammy hand to flush the toilet before trying—and failing—to get back on your feet, your legs completely giving out on you. However, before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and swept you off the ground. And there, as you raised your eyes to the person you had spent the night with, was Jay, his eyes flooded with concern.

“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” he murmured, being careful with where he placed his hands so as to not cross any of the boundaries you were certain had blurred the previous night. You nodded your head almost imperceptibly, and before you knew it, you had been laid back on the plush mattress with the utmost care.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, your eyes burning as Jay slowly pulled the white duvet over your trembling frame.

“Why are you apologizing?” he responded, grabbing a spare pillow and gently placing it behind your head before reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I just can’t remember anything from last night, and I… I honestly couldn’t remember who you were when I woke up.” You paused, still unable to meet Jay’s gaze. Another pang of nausea roiled in your stomach. “I’ve never been that drunk before. I’m so fucking embarrassed."

You pressed your eyes closed, ignoring the tears that welled up along your lashline. Jay had seen you cry hundreds of times throughout the years, so why did it suddenly feel so humiliating for him to see you this way?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his soft voice came. As he took in the sight of you—the wetness on your cheeks, the mess of hair atop your head, the dark purple circles extending under your eyes—you felt a dip in the mattress before he scooted toward you and pulled you into his arms. As horrified as you were to be seen this way, you allowed yourself to settle against his warm chest. You found comfort in the thought that if anyone had to see how much of a mess you were at the moment, you were glad it was Jay.

You allowed Jay to hold on to you for a moment as you worked on drying your tears. You listened to the even thump, thump of his heartbeat, allowing it to calm you down and remind you that Jay would never judge you for whatever you had done the previous night. However, the thought of not knowing what had happened between you kept weighing on your mind.

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened last night?”

You heard Jay inhale deeply, and you could’ve sworn you felt his arms and chest tense around you.

“Jay? Was it bad?”

He shook his head slightly, rubbing his thumb over your upper arm as you watched him internally debate what he wanted to say and how. For as long as you had known Jay, you had never seen him at a loss for words, which only worried you more that something had happened between you.

“Were you drunk, too? Do you remember it?”

Another head shake. “I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, but not drunk.”

“Not like me?”

Jay chuckled under his breath and looked down at you, the utmost affection accompanied by a sadness in his amber eyes. “No, not like you.”

You continued to look up at Jay expectantly before finally asking the question that had been weighing on your mind. “Last night, did we…?”

Jay’s cheeks reddened, and he immediately looked away from you. “No, we didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t want that.”

You lifted your eyes to the face of your best friend and took in the warmth there. The way he cared for you so tenderly without a second thought, the way he looked at you as if you had hung the moon and the stars…

“Then how… how did we end up here? I mean, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t wearing your clothes at the restaurant last night, and this doesn’t look like my hotel room.”

Yet again, Jay avoided your eyes. As if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. “Y/n, you were drunker than I’ve ever seen you. At some point, you tried to stand up to go to the bathroom, but you ended up falling over after, like, three steps. You hadn’t told me where you were staying when you were sober, and you definitely had no clue where you were staying after seven drinks, so I made the decision that I couldn’t just leave you there. I went to the lobby, got a room, and took you upstairs.”

“And when did you take my clothes off, you perv?” You hoped he could pick up on the joking tone in your voice, but from the clench of his jaw and the way he pursed his lips together, you could tell something was wrong. “I’m just kidding. I trust you more than anyone, you know. But seriously, what happened after we got up here?”

Jay huffed a humorless laugh. “Thanks.” He then looked down again, still not meeting your gaze. “You had nothing to change into, so I helped you get out of your dress and put you in a spare pair of shorts and a t-shirt I had packed. I tried to brush your teeth, but that didn’t go very well.”

“And then what?”

“And then nothing. You fell asleep as soon as I helped you get into bed.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then why are you acting like a puppy who got kicked?”

Jay’s wide eyes finally turned to yours. “What?”

“You’re not telling me everything. I know you better than anyone, and I know when something is wrong. The way you’re acting right now isn’t you. Something else obviously happened, and I don’t know why you won’t tell me. You’ve always told me everything.”

Jay lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes briefly before running his fingers through his hair. “Nothing, it was stupid. I just let myself get upset by some stuff you said when you were drunk, but that’s not your fault. I shouldn’t even bring it up because it really doesn’t matter.”

Your heart sank.

That had been your worst fear. When you drank, it often loosened your tongue, but you could usually remember what you said so that you could apologize for it as soon as possible. However, if you had said something to Jay that hurt him and didn’t remember it, how the hell were you going to apologize enough to make him forgive you?

“Oh God,” you stammered, searching Jay’s face for any indication of where you had misstepped. “I’m so sorry. Can you please tell me?”

Jay shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the duvet. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to get over it and move on.”

“Jay, tell me. Please.” You felt tears sting your eyes again, an overwhelming wave of guilt crashing over you. “The thought that I said something that hurt you is killing me.”

“It was just… some stuff about an ex. That’s all. I’m just being sensitive. Really, you shouldn’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

Oh.

Your ex.

“I talked about Heeseung last night?”

A muscle in his sharp jaw flicked. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“Jay, I swear to God. I need you to tell me what I said or I will be beating myself up for this until the day I die.”

At the sudden firmness in your voice, Jay finally turned his eyes to you, and you could’ve sworn they were slightly more damp than they had been a moment ago.

“You were talking about how badly he hurt you. About how he left you on some random Tuesday, gave you no explanation, and left you to pick up the pieces of your life on your own. You were so upset, and I knew nothing about it until last night. All night, I kept wondering why you never told me that you were dating someone or that you went through a breakup like that. I’m your best friend, and I’m supposed to be the one who’s there for you when the shit hits the fan, but you didn’t let me do that for you.”

You were now certain that Jay’s eyes were wet. You opened your mouth to speak, but something in you told you to stop and listen.

“And God, on top of that, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would never treat you that way. About how he’s so fucking stupid for letting go of you when you’re the best thing that’ll ever happen to him. About how—” he choked on his words, his face scrunching as if he were in pain as the tears finally spilled onto his cheeks. “About how you’re all I’ve ever wanted, but I’ve never been able to have you because I’m so scared of ruining things between us. I drank half a bottle of whiskey last night because it was the only way I could forget how much this all fucking hurts.”

Jay pressed his eyes closed and bowed his head so that it was resting on your shoulder. He was trembling, his arms still wrapped tightly around you as if you would disappear the second he let you go. At that moment, you caught sight of the empty bottle of whiskey again, and you felt a pang in your heart that made you feel sick. You knew he only drank heavily when he was trying to forget. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t connected the dots sooner.

Slowly, you raised a hand and gently cupped Jay’s cheek. With your thumb, you wiped away the tears staining his cool skin. “Look at me.”

His only response was a shaky breath as he gripped you tighter still.

“Jay, please.”

After a long moment, Jay finally lifted his eyes to yours. They were swollen, rimmed with red, and swimming with the ghost of all his fears that he had spilled from the depths of his soul.

“It’s taken me a long time to realize this, but if I’ve learned anything in the last few months, it’s that it’s always been you. You’ve seen the men I’ve dated, and while most of them were great guys, they all had one problem that I couldn’t look past: they weren’t you. Living far away from you all these years has been horrible, but I knew it was all worth it as long as I could keep you in my life. And I’m so tired of acting like I don’t feel this way, or like I didn’t feel like I was gonna throw up from the excitement of being able to see you last night.”

At last, a wide grin broke across Jay’s face as a loud sob forced its way from his throat, and he tenderly placed a hand on the back of your neck as he gazed at you. “Do you really feel that way? You’re not fucking with me because you feel bad?”

You laughed too, ignoring the tears now streaming down your own face. “That would be the worst joke ever, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it really would.”

“I mean it. Every single word of it, and more. You’re all I want now and forever. Hell, you were all I wanted as a kid, but I didn’t know what to do with those feelings, so I ignored them.”

“Very introspective of you considering how much you hate self-reflection.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

At these words, your lips crashed against Jay’s, and it finally felt as if the missing puzzle piece of your life had been placed. He immediately kissed you back with a fervor you had never experienced, his lips soft yet insistent. One hand tangled in your tousled hair as the other found its way to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jay murmured against your lips. “You’re everything to me.”

When Jay pulled back a bit later to catch his breath, you shifted your weight so that you were straddling his hips. He looked confused for a moment, but when he realized what you were doing, he gave you a hungry look before pulling you back towards him.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“You’re… on top of me.”

“Oh, you don’t like it? I can get off then.”

You began to shift your weight off of him, but Jay quickly wrapped his arms around your torso and rooted you to the spot. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled.

You gave Jay a coy smile before leaning in and brushing your lips against his ear. “I adore you, you know that?”

Jay shuddered under your featherlight touch, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I adore you more.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

And as you dove back in for more, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you and Jay would be debating who loved who more for years to come. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

©️ heesroses 2026.

perm taglist is open: @fawnwonie @collywobblvs @lawnzzn @thatfeelingwhenn @kristynaaah @rikicoolpuma @hoonguin @ynnii @wonuziex @wonatlas @wonkiipiilled @choicila @strwbysunoo @bluepains @jimineepaboya @bitemhoon @simjaeyunslut @xoheedeung @sugarcwtie @xoheedeung @heelvcr @itsnotawrongnumber @jaesim @heevansslut @nishimuresss @gabshees @itsnotawrongnumber @heevanleem @minni-mina @wonnieswife @hevxnsgurl

[blossruki]

────୨ৎ──── The Dare

pairing heeseung x reader

Summary: Left alone in a quiet dorm after a party, you and Heeseung play a risky game of truth or dare that quickly escalates

contains: alcohol use, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, marking/hickies, semi-public/risky setting

word count: ~3.9k

The dorm party has finally wound down to a hush. A heavy kind of quiet settles over the living room after hours of loud music, shouting, and too much laughter. Empty plastic cups litter the coffee table and side tables. Some are half full with flat beer or diluted soju. Others tipped over, leaving faint sticky rings on the wood. Discarded jackets and hoodies drape over every available surface. Armrests, the back of the sofa, even piled in a heap on the floor near the entryway. The air still smells faintly of fried snacks, citrus soda, and sharp sweet alcohol. It feels thick and warm inside the enclosed space.

It is well past midnight. The rest of the members have all dropped off or retreated to their rooms one by one. They are worn thin from the week’s schedules and the late night celebration. Sunoo curls up in the far armchair. A throw blanket pulled halfway up his chest. His breathing is slow and even. His head tilts to the side against the cushion. Jungwon is passed out on the rug in front of the TV. He props himself awkwardly against the base of the stand. Eyes shut tight. One arm tucked under his head like a makeshift pillow. Jay and Jake stumbled off to their bedrooms nearly an hour ago. They murmured goodnights that nobody really caught. Doors clicking shut softly behind them. Riki crashed early on the smaller sofa in the corner. Limbs sprawled out. Completely out cold.

That leaves only you and Heeseung awake.

You sit on the large main couch, shoulder to shoulder. Legs stretched out toward the messy table. You met Heeseung and the rest of ENHYPEN through mutual friends. You have spent enough time around the dorm to feel comfortable. Even when things get chaotic. Tonight you fit right in. Drinking and dancing and yelling along to the music like you belonged. But now the energy has shifted entirely. There is no one else to perform for. No one to distract from the quiet tension that hummed between you all evening. Small glances that linger too long. Accidental touches that do not get pulled away quickly. The way he always seemed to end up standing or sitting near you no matter where you moved in the crowded room.

You are both buzzed. A warm loose haze settles over everything. It makes your movements slower and your thoughts feel lighter. Less guarded. Your head feels clear enough but your body is relaxed. Skin warm. Edges soft. Heeseung leans back against the cushions. One arm draped along the back of the sofa just behind your shoulders. Legs spread wide in the casual way only someone completely at ease in their own space can manage. His dark hair is messy. Falling over his forehead. Cheeks flushed faintly pink from alcohol and heat. The collar of his loose black t-shirt slightly stretched. His eyes are darker than usual. Heavy lidded but sharp. Watching you with a lazy unbroken focus that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“Total chaos tonight,” you murmur. Breaking the silence. Picking at the label of the half empty drink in your hand. Your voice is lower than normal. Careful not to cut through the quiet and wake anyone sleeping nearby. “Everyone crashed so fast.”

Heeseung huffs a quiet laugh. The sound deep and rough in his throat. He shifts slightly. The couch dipping under his weight. Bringing him closer to you. Your knees brushing together with the movement. “They burn out easy,” he says. His tone low and smooth. His gaze never wavering from your face. “Too much work lately then this. I am surprised they lasted as long as they did.” He tilts his head. Studying you. “You are still up though. Not tired.”

“Not really,” you reply. Looking back at him. Matching his gaze. “The quiet is nice. Better than the noise.”

“Way better,” he agrees. His voice drops a little more. He glances around the empty room then back to you. A faint smirk playing on his lips. “We could do something to kill time. Keep from falling asleep like the rest of them.”

“Like what,” you ask. Tilting your head. Amused and curious.

“Truth or dare,” he says simply. Leaning his elbow on his knee. Leaning in closer to you. The space between you shrinking noticeably. “Old school. No stupid rules. No holding back just because it is late or we are alone.”

You raise an eyebrow. A small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. You know how this game goes. Especially with alcohol in your system and nobody else around to see what happens. “You think you can handle whatever comes out of this,” you tease. “I am not going to go easy on you.”

Heeseung’s grin widens. Confident and sharp. “Do not hold back for a second. I can take anything you throw at me. You go first.”

You lean back. Mirroring his relaxed posture. Though your heart is beating a little faster than before. “Fine. Truth.”

He thinks for a moment. Eyes roaming over your face slowly. Like he is mapping out every detail. “Alright. If you had to pick anyone in this dorm to sleep with right now. No consequences. No drama. Nobody finding out. Who would it be.”

The question lands heavy in the quiet air. Your breath catching slightly. You knew it would not take long for things to get personal. But you do not look away or pretend to be shocked. You hold his gaze steadily. Letting the silence hang for a few seconds before answering honestly. No games. No beating around the bush. “Probably you,” you say evenly. Watching his reaction closely. “Or Jake. Depends.”

For a split second you think you see his eyes darken further. A flicker of something sharp and hungry flash across his face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He does not look surprised or offended. Just pleased. The smirk settling deeper. “Fair enough,” he says. Nodding slowly. “Good answer. Honest. My turn. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you say immediately. Wanting to keep the momentum going. To see how far he is willing to take this.

He considers it. Tapping his fingers against his thigh. Looking thoughtful. “Easy one first,” he decides. “Take two shots. Straight. No pulling faces. No stopping until both are gone.”

You laugh quietly but do not hesitate. Reaching for the nearest small shot glass on the table and filling it then another. You tip the first back in one go. The strong liquid burning as it goes down. Then the second. Setting the glasses down with a soft clink. “Done,” you say. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Your turn. Truth or dare.”

He does not even pause. “Dare.”

“Alright,” you say. Thinking fast. Looking for something that will get under his skin a little. Keep him on edge. “Tell me the last lie you told anyone. And do not skip over it. Be specific.”

Heeseung chuckles. Low in his chest. “Simple enough,” he says. “I told Jay earlier I was heading to bed right after the party ended. Said I was dead on my feet.” He leans closer. His voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Total lie. Had zero intention of sleeping anytime soon.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks but you keep your composure. Raising an eyebrow. “Not bad,” you say. “Truth or dare again.”

“Dare,” he repeats. Without a beat of hesitation. He is enjoying this just as much as you are. The thrill of pushing boundaries. The risk of being caught. The obvious pull between you two getting stronger every minute.

“Okay,” you say. Leaning in a little closer too. Your voice dropping to match his. “Show me the last photo you saved in your phone. No skipping. No deleting first.”

He smirks. Pulling his phone from his pocket. Unlocking it easily and handing it over. It is just a blurry picture of the group from earlier in the night. Everyone laughing and piled together. “See. Boring,” he says. Taking the phone back and tossing it onto the cushion beside him. “My turn. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” you choose this time.

“Where is the most risky place you have ever hooked up with someone,” he asks. His eyes scanning your face. Waiting for your answer.

“Backstage hallway at a concert venue,” you reply without flinching. “Someone walked past right in the middle of it.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens slightly. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Fuck,” he mutters. Quiet enough it is almost to himself. “Impressive. Okay. My turn. Dare.”

You grin. Feeling bold. “Let me look through your search history from today.”

He laughs. Shaking his head but complying. Turning the screen toward you. It is all innocent stuff. Lyrics. Practice times. Schedule changes. “Told you I play fair,” he says. “Now. My turn. And this one is not going to be so harmless. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you say. Your pulse picking up speed. Knowing exactly where this is heading.

He leans in close. His face inches from yours. His breath warm against your cheek. His voice drops low and rough. Leaving no room for doubt about what he wants. “Take your shirt off,” he commands. Slow and clear. “Slowly. And do not cover up. I want to see every bit of it.”

You pull your shirt up slow and toss it aside. You sit there in just your bra. You do not cross your arms or try to hide. Heeseung leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes move over your shoulders your chest your waist slow and unhurried. His pupils are blown wide dark and hungry. His lips part a little. A sharp smirk pulls at his mouth.

“Wow,” he says plain and low. That is all. But it feels heavy in the quiet air.

It is your turn. Your heart beats fast but you keep your voice steady. “Truth or dare.”

He does not even think for a second. “Dare.”

You look him over from head to toe. You want to touch him everywhere. You want to feel what is under his clothes. “I dare you to let me touch your body wherever I want,” you say clear and firm. “No stopping me.”

He nods right away. He sits up straighter and opens his arms a little. “Go ahead,” he says. “Do whatever you like.”

You move closer on the couch. Your hands go first to his shoulders broad and solid under his t shirt. You slide them down over his chest feeling the hard muscle through the fabric. You keep going running down the center of his torso over his stomach tight and firm. You trace lower right above his pants then slide one hand over the front. He is already semi hard. You can feel the shape thick and clear against your palm. You drag your hand back and forth slow. His breath catches sharp. His jaw tightens. He watches you the whole time eyes dark and burning. When you are done you sit back down properly.

“Good,” you say. “My turn to choose. Truth.”

He leans back against the cushions. He licks his lips slow. “Alright,” he says. “What is your body count. How many people have you slept with.”

You do not shy away. You answer straight. “Two,” you say plainly.

He huffs a short laugh. A teasing look comes into his eyes. He tilts his head. “Oh,” he says. “So you are pretty innocent then.”

You raise an eyebrow. You flip the question right back. “And what about you,” you ask. “What is your number.”

He smirks all knowing. He leans in a little closer voice dropping lower. “Me,” he says slow. “I am experienced. I know all the good places you know. Exactly how to do things right.”

His words send a hot shiver right through you. Heat pools thick and heavy between your legs just thinking about it. But you stay on track. It is still your turn.

“My turn again,” you say. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he says instantly.

You look at his neck pale and open. You want to mark him. You want to leave something only you put there. “I dare you to let me give you a hickey,” you say. “Right on your neck. No covering up.”

He tilts his head to the side giving you full access. “Take it,” he says rough.

You lean in close. You press your mouth to his warm skin. You kiss light at first then suck hard and steady right under his jaw. He makes a low sound deep in his throat. His hands grip the couch tight. You work it until you know it will stay dark and visible for days. When you pull back there is a bright purple mark clear against his skin. He touches it lightly with his fingers and smirks.

“Nice,” he says. “My turn. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you answer.

He nods toward your chest. “Take your bra off,” he commands. “No hiding. Keep it off.”

You reach behind your back undo the clasp and slide it off. You toss it away. Now you are fully bare from the waist up. He looks every inch pupils huge and dark. He breathes out slow like he is holding himself back.

“Your turn,” he says. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you say.

“I dare you to make me take everything off but my boxers,” you say clear.

He stands up fast. He grabs his t shirt and pulls it over his head showing his broad chest and hard stomach. Then he shoves his sweatpants down and kicks them aside. He is left in only black boxers. The fabric pulls tight showing clearly how hard he is now. He sits back down on the couch slow and spreads his legs to make space. His eyes lock straight on yours.

“Done,” he says. “My turn. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” you reply.

He pats his lap right in front of him. “I dare you to come sit here. Right on top of me.”

Your breath catches hard. You look around the room quick. Everyone else is asleep. Sunoo curled up in the chair. Jungwon out cold on the floor. Doors shut down the hall. It is only you two awake. You look back at Heeseung. For a quiet moment you just stare at each other. You realize the silly little game you started has led you straight here. There is no turning back now. You feel suddenly nervous. Your hands twist by your sides. You shift on your feet.

“I… I do not know what to ask next,” you say softly. Your voice shakes a little.

He does not let you pull away. He reaches out and rests his hands light on your hips to steady you. His touch is warm and sure. “That is fine,” he says low. “I will dare you then. I dare you to kiss me. Properly. No quick pecks.”

You lean in slow. When your lips touch it is heavy and real. He meets you with hunger no holding back. His mouth moves firm and demanding against yours. You sink into it. You step forward and lower yourself down to sit on his lap just like he said. Your legs go on either side of his hips. Your chest presses tight to his bare chest. He wraps his arms all the way around you holding you flush against him. His hands roam your back your sides then grip your waist hard. You kiss him deeper opening up for him. You taste the alcohol and the heat on his tongue.

Without thinking you start to move your hips. A slow drag back and forth right over where he is hard for you. Through your thin underwear and his boxers you feel every thick line of him. He hisses sharp into your mouth and tips his head back. His grip on your hips tightens more. He guides your movement making you grind harder against him. The friction sends heat straight to your core. It builds fast making your head spin and your body ache for more. You can feel how hard he is how much he wants this just as bad as you do.

He pulls back just enough to speak. His voice is thick and rough. “That is it,” he breathes against your neck. “Just like that. Keep going.”

You move faster chasing the feeling. His hands slide down your back lower and lower until they grab your ass tight. He pulls you harder against him and grinds up to meet every roll of your hips. The thin fabric between you does nothing to hide the heat. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second soaking through onto his skin. He notices too and groans deep in his throat.

“So ready,” he whispers against your skin. “Already dripping all for me.”

He slides one hand down past the waistband of your pants and underwear. His fingers are hot and rough as they slip between your legs. He runs one finger through your folds slow and teasing before pressing firm circles right on your sensitive spot. You jerk forward and a loud moan almost escapes you. You bury your face in his neck to keep quiet enough not to wake anyone. He does not let up. He keeps rubbing you there steady and hard while you keep grinding on his lap. He knows exactly what he is doing hitting all the right spots every time just like he said he would.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he orders in a low growl.

“So good,” you gasp out. Your hips move wild against his hand. “Heeseung please.”

“Please what,” he teases and slows his fingers a little. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“More,” you beg. “Want you inside me. Now.”

He wastes no time. He lifts you up easy his strong arms holding your weight. He shoves your pants and underwear down in one go pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Now you are completely naked on top of him while he still sits there in his boxers. He pulls his own underwear down just enough to free his cock. It springs out hard and heavy tip flushed and leaking clear fluid. He guides it straight to your entrance with one hand and holds your hip with the other.

“Ride me slow at first,” he commands. “Take every inch.”

You sink down slowly. The stretch burns in the best way possible making you gasp and cling to his shoulders. He is thick and long filling you completely. You pause for a second once you are all the way down adjusting to his size. He rests his forehead against yours breathing heavy and fast. Then you start to move. You lift yourself up almost all the way then drop back down hard onto him. He meets you every time thrusting up deep and strong. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the quiet room. You do not care. You are too lost in the heat and pleasure.

He watches your breasts bounce with every move your face scrunch up the place where you are joined wet and shiny. He talks dirty the whole time telling you how tight you are how good you feel how you were made for this. He leans forward and kisses your neck your jaw your lips all while you ride him hard. He holds your waist steady so he can control the pace making it faster and harder with every minute. The couch creaks loud under the movement but neither of you pays it any mind.

He slips one hand between your bodies to rub your clit again while you move. It pushes you higher faster. You feel the pressure building tight in your stomach ready to snap. He sees it and pushes harder. “Come on,” he grunts. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

You crash hard. Your walls clamp down around him tight. Your back arches and you cry out his name. He keeps thrusting through your release pushing you into overstimulation before he follows right behind you. He thrusts deep one last time and holds it spilling himself inside you with a long rough groan. His body shakes against yours his arms locking tight around you to keep you close.

You stay there on his lap for a long time after. Both of you breathing heavy sweating skin sticking together. He does not pull away or rush you. He just holds you quiet against his chest while the room settles around you.

Got it—Part 3, picks up right after, simple plain language, no fancy words, pure raw smut, no fluff/feelings, keeps the tension high, risk of being caught still there.

📖 Lights Out, Games Over

Part 3: Unrestrained

You stay curled against him for a minute. Your skin is still hot and damp, legs shaky, heartbeat loud in your ears. Heeseung does not pull out or move away. He keeps you seated heavy on his lap, still connected deep inside. His hands slide slow up and down your bare back, rough and sure. He rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing steady against your neck. The dorm is quiet, everyone else passed out cold. It feels like nothing exists outside this couch and the mess you have made together.

Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at your face. His eyes are still dark and heavy, pupils blown wide. He brushes a strand of hair off your forehead, his thumb dragging light over your cheek.

“Not done yet,” he says low and rough. “Far from it.”

You nod slow, your body still thrumming. You shift a little on top of him and both of you suck in a sharp breath. The friction is still intense, sensitive, every move makes your head spin.

“Truth or dare,” he asks again, voice thick.

“Dare,” you whisper.

He smirks, glancing down at where you are joined, then back to your eyes. “Let me be in control,” he commands. “Lie back against the cushions and let me do all the work.”

You obey immediately. You lean back against the armrest and pillows, spreading your legs wider for him, letting him have full access. He holds your hips steady, keeping you seated exactly where he wants you. Then he starts to thrust up from below—slow, deep, deliberate at first, hitting that same perfect spot inside every time. You moan loud, head falling back against the couch. He picks up speed fast, hard and relentless, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet room.

He leans forward and takes one breast into his mouth, sucking hard, biting gently at the nipple before moving to the other. His hand slides down to rub your clit fast and rough, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. You twist under him, hands gripping his arms, shoulders, anything you can hold onto.

“Look at me,” he orders, pulling back to watch your face. “See how good I make you feel.”

You lift your gaze, breathless and hazy. He looks wild, hair messy, chest flushed, the mark you left dark on his neck. His expression is pure lust, no softness, just total possession.

“So tight,” he grunts, thrusting harder. “Still squeezing me like you want every drop. You love this don’t you. Being completely open for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp out, hips bucking against his hand. “Only you Heeseung.”

He pulls out suddenly, making you whimper at the loss. Before you can say anything he stands up with you still in his arms. He lays you flat on the couch, back against the cushions, legs hanging off the edge. He stands over you for a second, looking down at your whole body bare and open for him. His cock hard and heavy, tip leaking and red. He pulls his underwear down all the way and kicks them aside. Now he is fully naked too, no barriers left at all.

He leans over you, bracing one arm by your head, the other guiding himself back to your entrance. He pushes in slow and deep, making you stretch all over again, a new wave of heat rushing through your veins. He starts to pound into you right there, deep, hard, unforgiving. The couch creaks and slides slightly on the floor but neither of you care.

He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, hitting deeper than before. You cry out his name, hands scrabbling at his back, leaving faint marks on his skin. He leans down to kiss you hard, swallowing your sounds, tongue pushing into your mouth. He grunts against your lips, telling you dirty things—how he has thought about this, how you were dripping wet for him from the start, how he is going to make you come again and again.

He reaches down to rub your clit fast while he keeps thrusting deep. The pressure builds tight and hot in your stomach, faster than before. You can feel it coming, stronger than the first time.

“Come on,” he growls, pounding harder. “Come apart for me again. Let me feel you shake.”

You break instantly. Your back lifts off the couch, your whole body tenses, a loud broken moan tearing from your throat. Your walls clamp around him tight, pulsing and shaking. He does not stop. He keeps driving into you through the whole thing, pushing you right to the edge of overstimulation. His breath comes in short sharp bursts against your neck.

“Fuck,” he groans, his rhythm getting messy and wild. “Taking it so well. Gonna fill you up again.”

He slams in one final time, holds it deep, and spills himself inside you with a long rough shout. His body shudders hard against yours, arms trembling as he holds himself up. He stays buried there for a long moment, breathing heavy, letting the feeling settle.

Then he pulls out slow and sits back on the couch beside you. He pulls a blanket from the side and tosses it over your legs and body, not rushing you. He runs a hand through his messy hair, chest still heaving, skin shiny with sweat. He looks around the room quickly to make sure no one woke up, everyone is still out cold, just like before. He looks back at you with that same dark satisfied smirk.

“Game over,” he says quiet and sure. “I won.”

A/N: HII SEND REQUESTS ON MY PAGE also comment to be added to a tag list!!

[scribensmulier]

Champagne Cool

pairing & prompt: im changkyun x f!reader - sugar baby/daddy

word count: 3210

content notes: established relationship, bath sex, daddy kink (& some conversation about it), oral (both receiving), lot of praise, little bit of choking

The elevator doors opened, allowing you and Changkyun to walk down the hotel hallway to your room, hand in hand. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening, but being there to watch him perform was something you’d never trade. He always thrived on stage, and this had been no different. 

It had been his last appearance for a while, and to celebrate the upcoming break he had splurged on a fancier hotel room than usual with the hopes that you’d both be able to relax and enjoy the time together before getting back to real life. Opening the door to the room, you again were struck by the simple opulence of the space. A king-sized bed, of course, with a glorious view from this far up, and the bathroom even had a tub large enough for you both to sit in. You had learned by now to accept the casual extravagances that Changkyun brought into your life, but this was still a step above what he would normally spend on a single night.

As you kicked off your shoes and settled in, it was the tub that tempted you most. As fun as a show could be, it generally involved a lot of standing on your feet, which itself was nothing compared to how tired Changkyun must be. 

“I’m going to start a bath,” you informed him. “Want to join me?”

He smiled softly at you from an armchair across the room, already removing his jewelry. “I’ll find towels.” 

You worked together to set a relaxing vibe, with just the right amount of light on and some instrumental ambient music playing from the other room. On further investigation, you found some expensive-looking bubble bath on the counter, and the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus and mint filled the steamy room. 

In the midst of the preparations, you startled Changkyun by coming up behind him to put your arms around his waist. You made a contented sigh against the roses on his back, and he spun himself in your embrace to face you and kiss the tip of your nose. 

“What’s this for?” he questioned, not complaining at all. 

“I’m just happy. Happy being here, with you, right now.” You lifted onto your toes to kiss him, then broke apart to finish getting the bath ready. You heard Changkyun softly chuckle to himself as he disrobed. 

Turning off the tap, you slipped into the water, inhaling sharply at the heat on your skin. As you tried to find the most comfortable way to sit, Changkyun stepped in, and immediately sat to lean back against the edge of the tub. 

His legs open, he gestured you closer. “Here, sit with me. Let me hold you.” The warmth of the water was nothing to what you felt as you nestled against Changkyun, your back to his chest and his hands trailing along your arms. You both had naturally quiet personalities, and there was little to say as you sat together in the bath, savoring the time to do nothing at all. 

You leaned your head back on Changkyun’s shoulder, but the several bobby pins holding your hair together made it uncomfortable. “Ah, sorry. I should’ve taken this out.” 

“No, let me.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, then let you sit up a bit so he could search for the pins. By some miracle he found them all, one by one, and removed them from your hair without any pulling. 

Once your hair was freed, he kept running his fingers through the softness of your hair, massaging your scalp as he went.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” you murmured, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Don’t ever stop doing that.” 

He chuckled at that, never ceasing his caresses. Though you couldn’t see his face, he had a pleased smile, and nothing but love in his eyes as he swept them across your body. He couldn’t help kissing you again, his lips dancing across your neck and shoulders. 

Sighing contentedly, you leaned into his touch, silently asking for more. Beneath the water you could feel his growing arousal against you. 

“Turn around, baby,” he whispered. “I need you.” 

You were careful not to splash too much as you turned, his arms guiding you to sit astride his thighs. He returned a hand to your hair, holding tightly to pull you into a much deeper kiss, tongue already seeking yours. You snaked your arms over his, holding him close as you pressed yourself against him as much as possible. The intimacy of the bathtub and the soothing of your senses was heating you up for each other. Though you had been exhausted just moments before, neither of you could resist this moment together. 

Holding onto Changkyun, you ran a hand across his chest, fingernails lightly grazing his nipples. He moaned into your mouth, his gentle kisses becoming more fervent as you continued playing across his body. By now he was fully erect between your bodies, and you moved against him to bring some friction.

“Now, sweetheart. Please...” Usually you were the one pleading, but tonight Changkyun was eager to express his desire, nearly overwhelmed by the assault to his senses. He helped you stay balanced as you positioned yourself over his cock, and you moaned together as you sank down to take him fully within you. 

As his hands on your hips guided your movements, you hungrily kissed the side of his neck. Despite your urgency, you rode him gently to avoid splashing water outside of the tub. The fire within you slowly burned, but neither of you would be able to get off without flooding the bathroom.

“Babe…?” You whispered, not wanting to stop but knowing it was necessary.

Changkyun looked at you with concern. “Is something wrong?”

You couldn’t help a small laugh. “Yeah, if we keep going we’re going to get water everywhere. Let’s go to the bed so we can have more fun.” 

You pulled the drain plug as you stepped out of the tub, taking the plush towel Changkyun handed you. You each took only a moment to dry off enough to not drip water on the carpet before hurrying to the bed. 

“This is so much better,” you murmured as you rested between his thighs, taking his still-hard cock in your hand. He gasped at your touch and leaned back against the pillows to let you take care of him. You stroked him slowly, alternating the tightness of your grip as you moved up and down his shaft. His moans were hoarse as he reacted to every motion, letting out a few agonized words when he felt the saliva you had let drip onto his tip.

While you used your fingers to spread the wetness all around the head of his cock, you kissed his inner thighs and smiled up at him. 

“So beautiful,” he said, matching your grin.

“Changkyun, baby?” You punctuated each word with another kiss and a squeeze to his erection, keeping his attention on the physical. “Why do you always spend so much money on me?”

He stilled somewhat beneath you, eyebrows furrowed. “Because I want to. Why are you asking me right now?” He squirmed somewhat, attempting to get you to move your hand on him again.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to ignore when I see where we are. I’d be just as happy in a little motel by the highway, without a tub or a huge bed or any of this stuff. You know that, don’t you?” You pressed a kiss to his leaking tip for emphasis. 

He groaned again, caught up in the softness of your lips. “Yeah, I know. But it makes me happy to treat you. I have plenty of money, so let me spend it how I want. Let me spoil my baby, alright?” 

“Yeah, I guess... Kyun?” You imbued your voice with innocence, resuming your slow stroking. “Does that kinda make you my sugar daddy?”

“No!” His response was quicker and louder than you expected; he was clearly reacting on impulse. “No, I’m not, like, paying you to be with me. Right? You just said so.” He leaned back again and took a deep breath, thinking he had survived the awkward moment and you’d be moving on, hoping you wouldn’t say that again. He was wrong. 

“But, Kyun… What if I just call you ‘daddy’?” He sat up and met your gaze when he heard the question, and you felt yourself drowning in his brown eyes. He hadn’t reacted as strongly this time, and you could see the hesitation in his expression. You thought perhaps he was hesitating because he didn’t like the term, but he would have simply told you no. 

No, it was more likely that he did like it, but was afraid you wouldn’t. A few moments ago, you wouldn’t have, but now that it had presented itself naturally, you felt your arousal increasing at the mere thought. 

You asked him again, rephrasing so that he would understand you wanted to say it. “Can I call you ‘daddy’?” You maintained eye contact, flicking your tongue across the head of his cock as you waited for his response. 

He nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak. “Yeah, I think I like that.” He brushed a hand through your hair, guiding your mouth to where he wanted you most. “Just, please… I need you, so bad.”

Elation surged through your veins at how well this situation had worked out, and you couldn’t wait to see how fun it would be. “Okay, daddy,” you whispered before sinking your lips around him, taking him into your mouth as far as you could without gagging. 

Changkyun’s hand in your hair tightened as he felt the wet warmth of you around him, and he had to focus to stop himself from impulsively thrusting into your throat. He hadn’t meant to react so strongly to your words. He had been honest when he said he didn’t like the idea of being a sugar daddy; it made him feel like the relationship wasn’t genuine. On the other hand, he did know, had known for a while, that he’d be into you calling him “daddy” in bed, but he was hoping to ease into it on his own terms. Your perception always seemed to surprise him, however, and later he would mentally scold himself for underestimating you yet again. For the moment, however, his mind was nearly empty as he kept himself tethered to you, lost in the pleasure you were giving him. 

You hummed around his girth, wanting him to know how much you enjoyed tasting him like this. Though you were the more naturally submissive one in the relationship, having him at your mercy, letting loose obscene sounds as you worked him over, felt deliriously empowering. Your hand had settled around his base, stopping him from going too deep into your throat as you stroked him there, your fingertips occasionally caressing his balls as you stimulated him. 

After a particularly strained groan, Changkyun surprised you by pulling you off of him. “Enough. It’s my turn, pretty.” His desirous gaze was fire, burning across your skin. You returned it with a raised eyebrow, and he gestured for you to lie back on the bed. 

As he settled between your open legs, he peppered the insides of both thighs with soft kisses, letting himself conveniently avoid eye contact. “I want to hear you say it,” he spoke as if addressing your body itself. 

You smiled down at the crown of his head, threading your grasp through his hair as he slid a finger into your eager wetness. “Anything you want, daddy.” His sharp inhale at your words was a delicious reward, and you could see even from this angle how much he enjoyed it. 

When you tried moving your hips to match his movements, he held you in place with his free hand. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“I know,” you whined. “I just want you.” 

He tried and failed to suppress a giant smile at your words. “Beg for it.” 

“...Beg?”

“Mmhmm. Tell me how much you want me. Beg me to fuck you.” 

His tone made you feel nearly ready to combust. He was thriving in this new dynamic, and you were more than ready to obey him. “Please, daddy. I’ve wanted you inside me all night.” A pornographic moan slipped from your lips as he added a second finger, moving them in unison to make you weak. 

“Fuck… daddy, please, I need you to fuck me. I need more than your fingers.” Your desperation was genuine; all you wanted in that moment was to feel his cock stretching you to your limits. 

To your dismay he shook his head, a smirk still plastered to his face, and slowed his hand. “Not yet, love. You have to come for me first, then I’ll fuck you and make you come again. Okay?”

Your mouth had fallen open, your mind caught up in his words. He spoke very calmly and slowly, but assertively and confidently. You knew there was no doubt he would follow through on this promise. “Yeah, okay. Yes daddy,” you amended, seeing him quirk an eyebrow in silent demand. Gone was the exhausted idol who had returned to the room with you; Changkyun was as alert as ever, rejuvenated by this venture you were embarking on together. 

“I fucking love that,” he told you as his fingers resumed their teasing exploration within you. His eyes seemed to shine in the low lighting, and he pressed his lips to your clit. As he flicked his tongue across the sensitive nerves there, you gasped, overwhelmed by his touch. He lapped at you gently, slowly pushing his fingers in and out of you to a chorus of moans. 

As you lost yourself in sensation, Changkyun hastened his mouth, licking you from where your hole grasped at his fingers all the way to your clit and back again. He repeated the action a few more times, keeping his digits at the same slow and excruciating pace.

“Come on, my pretty girl,” he whispered. “Let me hear you.” 

You had no intention of disobeying, but just to be sure you felt inspired, he once again set his lips around your clit and began to suckle. A jolt of pleasure seared through you. “Fuck, daddy, that’s so good.” 

Your hand found its way into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as he worked you over. Changkyun quickened the pace of his hand, fucking in and out of you while curling his fingertips up to meet your g-spot with each thrust. As you began to whimper, you felt him moan in delight between your thighs. 

“Please don’t stop. I’m so close, daddy.” You felt these words and more fall from your lips with no thought; addressing him this way felt natural already, even comfortable since you knew he enjoyed it so much. They kept spilling out even as your climax powered through you and Changkyun held you to him, only slowing his movements when you were coming down from the high.

“That was so hot,” he murmured against your heat, pressing a last kiss to your thigh before pulling his fingers out to taste you. 

Still incredibly aroused and caught up in the moment, you sat up a little and pulled his hand to your open mouth. You wrapped your lips around his fingers, staring directly into his stunned eyes as you sucked him clean of your juices. 

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, still letting your tongue dance around his fingertips in your mouth. 

“Good girl. Want me to fuck you now?”

Even if you couldn’t see how painfully hard he was, leaking precome on the bedspread, you wouldn’t have turned him down. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me?”

Changkyun grinned with a feral look in his dark eyes. As you leaned back on the pillows, he followed, sliding up your body to kiss you deeply. He moaned into your mouth at the taste of you still lingering on your own lips. 

A small whimper escaped you when his hand made its way to your throat. He didn’t apply pressure, just held you, claiming you as his as the kisses deepened and grew in hunger. Your own hands were all over him, sliding over the tattoos on his arm before reaching behind his back to pull him closer. In that moment, it felt as if you could never be close enough to each other. Your body flushed with desirous heat, and you knew he was feeling the same.

As if spurred by those very thoughts, Changkyun positioned your legs around him and lined up to finally enter you again. This was no time for teasing, and so he pushed into you all at once, finding no resistance from your drenched pussy. 

“Feel so good,” he groaned as he rested fully within you, kissing your neck. 

“Please, daddy,” you whined. “Fuck me already.” 

With a wicked chuckle he did exactly that, saying, “Anything for my girl.” He began torturously slow, wanting to savor the feeling of sliding through your warmth. As blissful as it felt, you needed more, and leveraged your legs to pull his hips tighter against you. 

“You’re eager, huh? Tell me what you want.” Changkyun wasn’t typically this vocal during sex, at least not in words, and the novelty was thrilling. 

“I want you, daddy. I need you. Faster, please?” 

“Yeah?” With no warning, he slammed harder into you, causing you to cry out in delight. Seeing the delirious smile on your face, he continued at that pace. You let your arms fall next to your head, and without hesitation Changkyun moved his hands to pin your wrists in place as he kept fucking you. The new position granted him more power, and your breath quickened as you felt another climax start to creep up. 

“Fuck,, I-” you began, until Changkyun shifted his hips and his cock began hitting your g-spot. The wet sounds of sex echoed through the hotel room.

“You gonna come for me?” He looked nearly ready to explode himself as you nodded. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too. Come for me, baby.” 

“So close, so close...”

“Come on, baby, come for me. Come for daddy.” 

Hearing the word in his voice was the final straw that set off your orgasm. You held his gaze as you fell apart beneath him, your heels digging into his lower back. The feeling of you tensing around him was all Changkyun needed. He whispered your name as he reached his peak, his face scrunching as he spilled himself deep inside you. 

Releasing your hands, he pulled out of you and laid down on the bed. Instinctively you rolled up against him, resting under his outstretched arm as you both caught your breath. Quietly, you lay together, and he gently massaged your wrists where he had held you, to ensure you felt no discomfort.

Snuggled together in postcoital euphoria, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. Not only did you have a gorgeous, talented boyfriend, you also were so compatible in a thousand intangible ways. Money couldn’t buy that.

[spacequokka]

RM1526 | 02

Pairing: professor!Changkyun x Reader Genre: College AU, Smut Rating: MA it's kyun simp season bitches Summary: He wasn't wrong when he said you wouldn't even make it back to his place. Word Count: 1.2k, Request Warnings: teacher/student relations, language, fingering, vaginal sex, degradation (slut), dacryphilia

A/N: I may have fumbled last year, but not this one! Happy birthday, Kyun! Sorry for taking so long with this request. Recommending Skyline for this. I forced myself to stop because I have other things to work on, but maybe I could come back with a third part...

[ Previous ]

“How much longer till we get there?”

“About eight minutes. Why? Isn’t this enough for now?”

“This” being him having two fingers deep in your cunt, heel of his palm grinding against your clit. He’d said he’d pull over and fuck you if he couldn’t wait yet he seemed calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your nails were about to tear up his leather seats. The squelching of his fingers pushing in and pulling out nearly drowned out the soft jazz playing through the stereo. Your body trembled when his fingertips brushed over that spot, triggering your thighs to clamp shut and trapping his hand. He chuckled softly and bit his lip, grinding his palm against you a little harder.

“Please.” You whispered as you took advantage of the moment and worked your hips back and forth, riding his fingers for as long as he’d allow it. Did he really have to look so smug?

“Please, what?” He glanced at you. “Tell me what you need.”

You bit your lip and gently grabbed his wrist. “Wanna cum. Need more.”

“Come on. You can wait—what—five more minutes?”

You shook your head and gave him puppy eyes. “Please don’t make me wait. I’ll do whatever you want. Please?” You clenched around his fingers, making your arousal seep out and down the back of his hand.

He hissed. “Fuck. Should’ve known better. This is why I took your panties.” He hit the signal and got over, eyes casing the area for some place dark enough. He spotted a deserted gas station. “Can’t take long though, you hear me?”

“Yes. I won’t, I swear.” Thrilled that he was actually pulling over, you spread your legs and released his wrist, still rolling your hips driving his long fingers in and out, over that spongy spot that made your brain go all fuzzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as you enjoyed the pleasure. The car came to a stop, and he pulled his hand away.

You opened your eyes right as you heard the click of his seat belt. “Fuck. ‘m so fucking hard, it hurts.” He exhaled hard as he lifted up to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He tore the condom open with his teeth while giving his dick a few strokes with his free hand. “Get over here.” He was reaching for you as he rolled the condom on. You were crawling across the armrest before he could even touch you. He pushed the seat back and turned off the car, dropping the keys into the cup holder. “Fuck, baby.” He sighed as you straddled his hips and helped guide him toward your entrance. He started moaning the second the tip was inside, eyes screwed shut as you lifted yourself up and down, taking him in inch by inch until he was completely sheathed in your dripping heat. “My fucking God, girl. Why does it feel better than before?”

You were on the verge of going feral. “I could ask you the same.” You grabbed the lever on the side of his seat and pushed it back until it touched the backseat. Doing so laid him out underneath you, which gave you space to push his sweater up and reveal those sweet, sweet tats that decorated his chest. He grunted and squeezed your thighs, weakly thrusting up when your cunt squeezed his dick. “Shit,” you gasped before leaning down and ghosting your lips over the text inked over his heart.

“Love how that feels, but we don’t have time—” He grabbed your waist and lifted you enough for him to pull out a little, then thrust back in. “Gotta make it quick.” Your pout was quickly replaced with wide eyes and an open mouth moaning his name. “Come on, baby. Take it and make yourself cum.”

You nodded and moved your hands to his shoulders, adjusting your knees to take over. Your toes curled the first time you dropped down, shoving his length in deep enough to punch the air out of your lungs. The second time made him close his eyes as he shuddered, making you realize he was just as fucked out as you were. Seeing him like that gave you a little ego boost and the determination to make him cum with you. Biting your lip, you held off on chasing your high, opting to ride him harder, swiveling your hips or clenching whenever you lifted up. He gradually lost his cool, squirming under you and raking his blunt nails across your thighs as his breathing turned choppy. His eyes flew open in a panic. “Are you close? You gotta—I’m gonna—fuck.”

You merely smiled, not bothering to school the devious look in your eyes. “Cum whenever you want.”

A thousand emotions flickered over his face before settling on outrage. “Whenever I want? You’re the one who couldn’t wait five more minutes.” He pushed his sticky fingers coated in your arousal into your mouth. “Horny little slut. Clean them good.” You quickly set to work, sucking and licking each digit until you couldn’t taste yourself on his skin anymore. The second you pulled back with a wet pop, his hand went around your throat and pulled you down against him, lips smacking together. “Gonna fucking destroy this pussy.” With your arms trapped between your bodies, his hands went to your ass and held on. He adjusted his footing and grip, then thrust up into you hard, a clap of skin echoing in the car. The force was enough to make you yelp and grip his shirt. Satisfied with the change, he kept going, bringing you down on his dick harder and harder until your choppy moans became a long, drawn-out cry. “That’s it. You can cum whenever you want.”

Tears fell from your eyes at the sheer intensity of your orgasm, legs shaking as you wailed and endured the assault on your g-spot. Yet, he still needed more.

“It’s good, huh? Lemme see you, baby.” He pushed you up enough to see your pretty face wet with tears. “Oh, look at that.” He moved his hands to your tits, giving them a squeeze as he continued fucking up into your spasming cunt. “So pretty when you’re crying and begging for me. So…fucking…” His hold on your breasts tightened as he came, head tossed back, exposing his beautiful throat as his moan filled the car and his dick throbbed with each spurt of cum in the condom. “Fuck.”

The tension drained from your bodies and he let you rest on his chest while you caught your breath. It was oddly intimate, given how it hadn’t even been a day since your first fuck, yet neither of you were complaining. Once his heart had calmed down, he gave your ass a gentle pat and rub.

“Alright, brat. Back in your seat.”

[ Previous | Part 3? ]

[404sheepnotfound]

Baby, That's Mine - Yang Jungwon

PART I

୨ৎ Summary : Two people. One bar. One really, really bad night to be alone. Y/n just caught her fiancé of two years in bed with her best friend. Jungwon just found out his girlfriend of six years has been cheating for god knows how long. Neither of them planned on ending up in a hotel room with a stranger — they just both really, really didn't want to be alone that night. No names. No numbers. Just two broken people borrowing comfort from each other for one night, then going their separate ways like it never happened. Except a month later, y/n's staring at two pink lines on a bathroom floor, and there's only one person it could possibly be. She makes her choice fast, she's keeping the baby, and she's doing it alone. no ring, no husband, no one's permission required. So she books her first prenatal appointment at some random clinic near campus, ready to start this chapter solo like she planned—and her doctor walks in. It's him. Yang Jungwon.

୨ৎ Pairing : obgyn! Jungwon x college lecturer! reader

୨ৎ Wordcount : 6,5k

୨ৎ Warning : aged-up Jungwon (he's 28 here), stranger to.... (still figuring out), one night stand, unprotected sex, cheating (not Jungwon or y/n), unprotected sex (BIG NO NO, PLEASE WRAP YOUR WILLY), pregnancy.

PART II PARTIII

Tuesday was supposed to be ordinary.

The kind of day that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. You finished your morning lecture, replied to a few student emails, stopped by the grocery store on your way home because you'd promised to cook dinner. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that hinted your life was quietly approaching a fault line.

The apartment was supposed to be empty.

You remembered that detail clearly later. He'd told you that morning, half asleep, mumbling something about a meeting running until six. You had the whole afternoon to yourself, or so you'd thought, planning the pasta you'd make, the wine you'd open, the ordinary comfort of a Tuesday night at home. 

You unlocked the front door as quietly as always, balancing a paper bag of groceries against your hip. Then you heard laughter. A woman's laugh, low and familiar, drifting down the hallway like something out of a memory you couldn't quite place. For one suspended heartbeat, your mind simply refused to process it 

Then it did. Your best friend.

You took another step down the hallway. The bedroom door wasn't completely closed. It didn't need to be. Some truths don't ask to be witnessed completely. You already understood, before your conscious mind caught up, that whatever was happening in that apartment wasn't meant for your ears. 

The quiet intimacy of two people who had forgotten the rest of the world existed. Neither of them heard it. Or maybe they did. You didn't stay long enough to find out. There were no questions. No tears. No dramatic confrontation worthy of a movie scene. Because what explanation could possibly undo what you'd already seen?. You turned around before they could notice you. The front door clicked shut behind you with barely a sound. 

Two years of engagement, gone.

Two years of wedding plans scattered across your dining table. Two years of apartment hunting, shared grocery lists, lazy Sunday mornings, and conversations about children you thought you'd have someday. 

You don’t remember the walk to your car. You remember sitting behind the steering wheel with the keys in your hand and staring blankly at the windshield as the city morphed into streaks of bright light. It was just a blur of street lamps, head lights, and everything moving around you while your world was standing still. For a brief moment, you noticed that your hands weren’t shaking. You thought that was strange too. The way that your body had just suddenly gone still and cold and you were just as motionless as your body, like a state of shock had frozen you just outside of the situation.

You couldn’t say how long it was, but what you knew was that you suddenly found yourself standing in front of your closet. Your eyes were drawn to what was at the very back and hidden from view, your black dress. You hadn’t seen it for years.

"It's a little too much," he'd once said with an easy laugh.

"Too short."

"Too noticeable."

You remembered smiling then, folding the dress away because it hadn't seemed important enough to argue about.

You pulled it from the closet and let it fall over your body, the fabric cool and unfamiliar against your skin, hugging you in ways you'd forgotten you were allowed to be seen. It felt like putting on a stranger. Someone who wasn't trying to be agreeable anymore. Someone who had nothing left to protect and nothing left to lose.  You left the engagement ring where it was.

After leaving your phone in your purse, you grabbed your keys for the second time and stepped into the dark. You had no idea where you were headed but felt a certainty in your chest about leaving the life you had. You felt like you could not spend one more moment inside the life that no longer felt like it belonged to you.  

.

.

.

Tuesday hadn't given him any warning either.

Jungwon's shift had ended late. A delivery that ran longer than expected, hours stretched thin by complications that weren't anyone's fault, just the unpredictable nature of the job. By the time he clocked out, his scrubs still smelled faintly of antiseptic, his feet aching in a way that had become so routine he barely registered it anymore. All he wanted was his own bed, maybe food he didn't have to think about. 

He let himself into her apartment with the key she'd given him two years ago, the metal worn smooth from years in his pocket, attached to a keychain shaped like a tiny stethoscope. A joke gift from early in their relationship, something she'd laughed about giving him, something he'd kept clipped to his keys ever since without really thinking about why. 

The shower was running. Her tablet was face up on the kitchen counter, screen still lit from a notification. He hadn't meant to look. He told himself that for weeks afterward, though it stopped mattering fairly quickly whether he'd meant to or not.

A name he recognized. A string of messages that didn't need much context. Photos that answered questions he hadn't known to ask. He stood there in his work clothes, badge still clipped to his coat pocket, and read enough to understand that ‘residency's exhausting’ had been covering for something else entirely for months, maybe longer.

He didn't move at all, actually, just stood there in the kitchen with his hands loose at his sides, feeling something inside his chest go very still and cold. He didn't throw the tablet. 

She stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, damp hair pushed back, and stopped short in the doorway when she saw Jungwon standing there. Badge still clipped to his coat pocket, tablet lying face up on the counter exactly where she'd left it. Something in his stillness told her immediately that the evening wasn't going to go the way she'd planned.

"Jungwon?" Her voice came out careful, testing. "You're back early."

He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, and she followed his gaze to the tablet, and whatever color was left in her face drained out of it in an instant.

"How long," he said. Not a question. A statement in the shape of a question.

"I—" She pulled the towel tighter around herself, a reflexive gesture, like modesty mattered now, of all moments. "Jungwon, it's not—"

"Don't." His voice remained quiet and level, the same tone he used when he had to tell a patient's family something they didn't want to hear. "Don't tell me it's not what it looks like. I read enough."

Her mouth opened, then closed. For a long moment, the only sound in the apartment was water still dripping somewhere in the bathroom behind her.

"How long," he said again.

She sat down slowly on the arm of the couch, like her legs had stopped being reliable. "Since spring," she said quietly. "Maybe a little before that."

"Spring." He turned the word over like he was checking it for a fracture. "Daeun, that's eight months."

"I didn't plan for it to happen." Her voice cracked slightly, and he almost hated how convincing it sounded, how rehearsed and unrehearsed all at once. "We were just–we started as friends, and then residency got so heavy, and you were always working, and he was just there, and I don't know, it just…"

"I was working," he repeated flatly. "Right. Because I have a job that saves lives, and that's the excuse."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" His voice finally rose. "Because from where I'm standing, you've had eight months to tell me. Eight months of me asking if you were okay, if something was wrong, and you telling me it was just residency. Eight months of me believing you."

She didn't answer that. There wasn't an answer that would have helped her.

"Six years," he said, quieter now, almost to himself. "Six years, and I find out like this. Off a notification on your tablet."

"I was going to tell you." Her eyes were wet now, genuinely, and some old, tired part of him almost felt sorry for her, which made him angrier at himself than at her. "I've been trying to figure out how, for weeks, I swear—"

"Don't," he said again, softer this time, because he didn't have the energy left to argue about her intentions. "It doesn't matter anymore. You could've told me in June. You could've told me in September. You didn't." He stopped, pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his eyes, then dropped it. "That's the part that matters."

"Jungwon…"

"I have to go." He was already reaching for his coat.

"Can we at least talk about this properly? Please. Don't just walk out,"

He paused at the door, hand on the frame, and looked back at her.  Tear streaked, still somehow looking for a version of this conversation that ended somewhere softer than where it actually was.

"There isn't a version of this where I stay, and we talk it through.”

"So that's it?" Her voice cracked properly now. "Six years, and you're just leaving? No fighting for it?"

He almost laughed, though nothing about it felt funny. "You didn't fight for it either," he said quietly. "Not for eight months."

He didn't wait for her response. The door closed behind him just shut, quiet and final, the same way the whole relationship seemed to be ending: without the drama it probably deserved, just a soft, ordinary sound marking something enormous coming apart.

He drove without any destination in mind, the radio off, the city sliding past in a blur of red lights, he stopped out of habit rather than attention. Six years. He kept circling back to the number like it might rearrange itself into something smaller, something easier to hold.

He ended up parking outside a bar he'd never been to. Not his usual place near the hospital, where someone always seemed to know his face even without the coat. Tonight, he didn't want to be recognized. He didn't want to be Dr. Yang, careful and composed, the boy faced physician everyone had to double take before trusting. He just wanted to sit somewhere dark and stop being anyone in particular for a while.

He loosened his tie in the car before he went in. Small, useless gesture. It didn't make him feel any less, as something had just been quietly taken from him.

.

.

.

The bar was louder than you expected for a Tuesday, but you didn't care. Noise was better than silence. Silence gave you room to think, and thinking was the last thing you wanted tonight.

By the time the bartender slid your fourth glass across the counter, the sharp edges of the evening had softened. The ache in your chest hadn't disappeared; it had simply become distant, like hearing thunder several miles away.  You shifted on the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. The black dress rode a little higher against your thigh, and for the first time in years, you didn't bother tugging it back down.

He would've hated that. The thought came uninvited. You emptied the rest of your drink before it could linger. 

That's when he sat down beside you. Close enough that you noticed before you even looked. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Your second was that he looked far too young to be sitting alone in a place like this. His white dress shirt was neatly pressed except for the loosened tie hanging around his neck, as though he'd started the evening trying to hold himself together and abandoned the effort somewhere along the way. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, exposing tired hands wrapped loosely around a glass he barely touched.

His gaze remained fixed on the amber liquid, unfocused, like he expected answers to settle at the bottom if he waited long enough. There was something strangely familiar about the way sadness sat on him. You almost didn't say anything. Almost.

You looked away. It wasn't your business. You weren't here to notice strangers. You were here to forget yourself. A minute passed, or maybe two. The bartender asked if either of you wanted another round. Neither of you answered. Without thinking, you let out a quiet breath.

"You look like you got dumped."

The words escaped before you could decide whether to keep them. Your voice came out flatter than you'd intended, stripped of humor, carrying more exhaustion than wit.

He turned toward you. Not offended, just surprised. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. His eyes searched your face, lingering there with quiet curiosity, as though he couldn't decide if you were teasing him or speaking from experience. Then his gaze drifted lower to the diamond still resting on your left hand. A ring that caught the warm bar lights just enough to betray you. One corner of his mouth lifted into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"You still have your ring on," he said softly.

You followed his gaze, staring at the diamond as though you'd forgotten it was there. For a long moment, you simply twisted it around your finger.

"I forgot to take it off."

It wasn't entirely true. You hadn't forgotten. You just hadn't found the courage. His eyes met yours again.

"You look like you got dumped too."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"I did."

He gave a slow nod.

"So did I."

The words settled between you with the quiet understanding that only strangers could sometimes share. Neither of you asked for details or explanations. For tonight, it was enough to know that the person sitting beside you understood exactly what heartbreak looked like.

He glanced at your empty glass. "Another?"

You shook your head. "I think I've had enough of pretending a drink is going to fix anything."

Something about that made him almost smile, the first real one you'd seen from him all night, small and tired but genuine. "Yeah,me too."

The bartender came by again, and this time Jungwon was the one who waved him off, reaching instead for his wallet. You didn't argue when he paid for both of you. Some nights, you didn't have the energy left to insist on independence.

Outside, the air was cooler than you expected, sharp enough to cut through the haze just slightly. Neither of you moved toward a taxi right away. You just stood there for a moment under the bar's dim sign, the city noise a distant hum around you, both of you clearly aware that the night hadn't decided yet what it wanted to become.

"I don't usually do this," you said, not quite looking at him.

"Do what?"

"Any of this. Bars. Strangers. Standing outside at midnight, not knowing what I'm doing."

"Neither do I," he said. Then, after a pause, quieter, "I don't want to go home yet, though."

You understood exactly what he meant, because you felt the same thing sitting heavy in your chest. Home wasn't home anymore. Home was an apartment with echoes you couldn't bear to hear. Home meant seeing the engagement ring still circling your finger. Home meant admitting that tomorrow would arrive whether you wanted it to or not. For the first time that evening, you really looked at him.

He couldn't have been much younger than thirty, though his face carried an unmistakable softness that made him seem younger than he probably was. His tie still hung loose around his neck, his hair slightly disheveled, exhaustion written plainly across features that were almost unfairly handsome. 

He looked as though someone had reached into his life that morning and quietly removed the future he'd expected. That may be why he looked familiar.

"There's a hotel two blocks from here," you said.

He didn't ask if you were sure. He just nodded, like he'd been waiting for someone to say it first.

Neither of you filled the silence with questions about names, jobs, or the people who had broken your hearts. Some things felt strangely unimportant. Inside the elevator, your shoulders brushed for the first time. Neither of you moved away. 

The door had barely clicked shut before the tension that had been simmering between you in the elevator boiled over. There was no slow buildup, no romantic preamble; there was only a desperate, starving need to feel something other than the hollow ache in your chests.

Jungwon turned to you, his face flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the moment. He looked so young, almost innocent, but the look in his eyes was raw and hungry. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss that tasted of whiskey and grief. It was a collision, teeth clashing, breaths hitching as you both clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.

You groaned into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn't a sliver of air between your bodies. He backed you up against the door, the thud of your back hitting the wood echoing in the quiet room. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming your mouth with an urgency that made your toes curl.

"Please," you whispered against his lips, though you weren't even sure what you were asking for.

He didn't answer with words. His hands slid down to your hips, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up to your hips as he carried you toward the bed. He dropped you onto the white linens, his body following immediately, pinning you down with a weight that felt grounding and necessary.

Jungwon’s hands were frantic, stripping away the barriers of clothing. He pulled your dress over your head and tossed it aside, his eyes scanning your naked body with a mixture of awe and desperation. When he stripped off his own clothes, you saw the lean, toned muscles of a man who didn't look his age, his cock already hard and pulsing, straining against the air.

He didn't waste time. He moved between your thighs, his fingers sliding down to find your pussy. You were already soaking, the friction of the night and the emotional turmoil making you ache for him. He slid two fingers inside you, stretching you open, while his thumb worked your clit in a rhythmic, punishing pace. You arched your back, a loud moan escaping you as you neared the edge.

"Look at me," he murmured.

You opened your eyes to see him watching you, his expression a mask of longing. He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, pausing for a heartbeat before thrusting deep inside you in one heavy, seamless motion.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming. The stretch, the heat, the sudden fullness that silenced the noise in your head. He began to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, driving into you with a primal intensity. Each hit of his pelvis against your ass sounded like a wet slap in the quiet room.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel so good… shit, so tight…"

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another bruising kiss as he picked up the pace. He wasn't being gentle; he was fucking you with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if by driving himself into you, he could push out the memory of the woman who had betrayed him. You met every thrust, tilting your pelvis up to take him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him.

The friction built, a coil of tension tightening in your lower belly. Jungwon’s movements became shorter, faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He shifted his grip, grabbing your thighs and pinning them back toward your chest to open you up even more. The angle allowed him to hit your cervix with every plunge, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your spine.

"I'm close—" he choked out, his muscles straining.

You felt your own climax rushing toward you, a tidal wave of release. You gripped his biceps, your voice breaking into a series of high-pitched whimpers. As you peaked, your pussy walls clamping tight around him in rhythmic spasms, Jungwon let out a low, guttural growl. He gave one final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and shuddered violently as he came.

You felt the hot, thick jets of his cum pumping deep inside you, filling your womb with a warmth that felt almost spiritual in its intensity. He stayed buried inside you for a long time, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, your hearts beating in a synchronized, frantic rhythm.

As the adrenaline faded, the silence returned, but it was different now. The loneliness was still there, but it had been blunted. Jungwon slowly withdrew, the wet sound of his cock leaving your body echoing in the room. He didn't pull away completely; he rolled onto his side and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

Neither of you spoke. There were no names exchanged, no promises of a second meeting. You just lay there in the dim light of the hotel room, two broken strangers sharing a bed, clinging to the fleeting comfort of a night that neither of you would ever forget.

.

.

.

A month passed by.

Long enough for the memory of that night to start to blur at the edges. Sometimes you thought you invented some of it.

You remembered the warmth of whiskey better than you remembered his face. His tie, loosened. How he’d just listened, without asking questions. A pair of tired eyes that had looked at you as if they knew something that nobody else knew.

All else had blurred, melting into the sort of memory that belonged to another version of you. You never came back to the bar. If he did, you wouldn't know it. And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have known that either. That was maybe how it was always supposed to be. Life went on, as indifferent as ever. 

Life had moved on, in its own stubborn manner. You got out of the apartment. You’d gone and blocked your ex-fiancée’s number. You weren't going to speak to your ex-bestfriend, and you hadn't. It was a mercy in itself. Your students didn't know that anything was different. They looked at you like you were just their lecturer. Untroubled. Unbreakable.

You could almost pretend your life hadn’t fallen apart. For three hours at a time. That was enough. Until it wasn’t. It began on a Thursday. Not with nausea or vertigo. Only a date. 

You were standing in your kitchen, waiting on the coffee machine to finish brewing, when the thought came unbidden. Your monthly. Your brow wrinkled. You counted backwards, almost absentmindedly. Then you counted again. The answer was the same. It's late.

This was not normal.

Your body was always predictable, almost stubbornly so. Even in college, when your roommates complained about irregular cycles and surprise cramps, yours came like clockwork, and you didn’t bother tracking it anymore. You put your coffee mug down, untouched. 

"It's the stress," you whispered to the empty apartment. It must have been. 

It made sense, didn't it? The breakup, the move, months of your nervous system running on fumes. Bodies did strange things under pressure. You'd read that somewhere, or maybe you just wanted to have read it somewhere. 

You gave it a few more days. Then a week. The coffee you'd started craving black suddenly turned your stomach. Smells you'd never noticed before. The neighbor's cooking, the detergent in your own laundry, sent you running for air that didn't feel like it was choking you. 

One day a co-worker came into your office with take out. The smell alone would have you running for the nearest bathroom. You said it was the flu. Food poisoning.  Anything.  All of it. Except for that one possibility that’s silently trailing you from room to room.

By the time you found yourself standing in the pharmacy aisle staring at a shelf of boxes you never had reason to buy before, some quiet part of you, dreading, already knew. 

You stood in front of the shelf longer than you needed to. So many different brands. Different promises. Different prices. As though any of them could deliver a different answer. You bought two.

As soon as you were home, you didn't wait long to do. Sat on the side of the bathtub, phone timer ticking away before you began to look at your hands and realise they weren't even yours.

Two lines. Then two more.

You sat there for a long time after that, the tile cold beneath you, your mind doing the math it didn't want to do.  The date, the timeline, the one night that had blurred into something you'd tried hard to forget. There was only one night it could have been.

Your heartbeat stumbled.

"No..."

The word escaped before you realized you'd spoken aloud.

You remained there for what felt like hours, staring at the tests resting in your hands as though they belonged to someone else. 

There was only one person. One night. One stranger, with tired eyes and a loosened tie and a sadness that had looked so much like your own it hadn't frightened you. You didn't even remember his name. You didn't know his address. What was his work. If you'd ever see him again.  You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. A man who existed in your memory as nothing more than tired eyes and a loosened tie, and you look like you got dumped, too.

You didn't know how to find him even if you'd wanted to.

A baby.

The words refused to settle. They hovered somewhere just beyond understanding, too large to fit into the quiet routine you'd been stitching back together over the last month. You were thirty two. Recently single. Still learning how to sleep in an apartment that echoed because there was no one else in it.

You'd spent years building a career you loved, teaching future educators how to nurture children with patience, consistency, and kindness. Ironically, you'd never decided whether motherhood belonged in your own future. You always assumed there would be time to figure it out.

You thought you had more time to decide that. You thought, if it ever happened, it would happen with someone you trusted, someone who'd chosen it with you, not a stranger from a bar whose last name you didn't even know. 

You thought about how easy it would be to end it before anyone had to know it happened at all. No one would ask questions. No one would even know there was something to ask about. You could keep moving forward exactly the way you'd planned, pick your life back up, untangled, unremarkable, the way it was supposed to look after a breakup like this. Clean. Simple.

You sat with that thought for a while, testing its weight, waiting to feel relief.

It didn't come.

Instead, you found yourself thinking about your own mother, who used to tell you that she'd never once regretted having you. Even though your father had left before you turned three. Hardest thing I ever did alone, she'd said once, and still the only decision I never doubted. You'd never fully understood what she meant by that until this exact moment, sitting on a bathroom floor with a truth in your hands you hadn't asked for.

You thought about the years you'd spent in classrooms full of small kids who trusted easily, loved easily, hadn't yet learned that people could hollow you out from the inside without warning. You'd built a career around believing children deserved good beginnings. You wondered, cruelly, whether you were about to fail that belief the moment it became personal.

Then you thought about the alternative. The quiet, empty version of your future you'd have to live with either way. A yes, you might regret, or a no, you were fairly sure you would.

You pressed a hand flat against your stomach, feeling nothing yet, nothing you could point to, and still somehow feeling everything.

A slow breath escaped you.

"I don't need him."

The words were barely louder than a whisper. You said them again.

"I don't."

You weren't trying to convince yourself. You already knew they were true. You didn't need a husband. You didn't need a wedding. You didn't need promises made by someone else to make this decision for you. If this child entered the world, it would be because you chose them. Not because of guilt.

You knew exactly what waited beyond this bathroom door. Questions, whispers and mostly it would be judgment. Forms with blank spaces labeled Father. A future that would be more difficult than the one you'd imagined for yourself. None of that disappeared simply because you'd made a decision. But neither did your resolve.

For the first time since walking into that apartment on Tuesday afternoon, you realized your future no longer felt defined by something that had been taken from you. It was being shaped by something you had chosen. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked exhausted. Your eyes were swollen, your hair a mess, your expression still carrying traces of the woman who'd had her heart broken.

But beneath all of that, there was something new. Resolve. You rested your hand over your stomach once more.

"Okay," you whispered to the tiny life only you knew existed.

A faint smile tugged at your lips despite everything.

"It's you and me now."

The words sounded impossibly small in the quiet apartment. Yet,  somehow, they were enough.

.

.

.

The dream came to him three nights in a row.  Always the same, dissolving the moment he woke, leaving only fragments behind the way real dreams rarely do.

In it, he stood in a garden he didn't recognize, thick with fruit trees heavy enough that their branches bent low toward the ground. A woman he couldn't see clearly handed him a single peach, round and impossibly ripe, still warm like it had just been pulled from sunlight rather than a branch. 

He always woke up right after that. Nothing more happened. It didn't need to.

He didn't think much of it, not really. After all, dreams rarely made sense, and he'd learned a long time ago not to chase meaning where there probably wasn't any. Still, on the fourth morning, he found himself mentioning it to Sunoo over coffee in the hospital break room, mostly out of the strange, itching need to say it out loud to someone.

"I keep having this dream," he said, staring into his cup. "Same one, a few nights now. There's a garden, and someone hands me a peach. That's it. That's the whole dream."

Sunoo lowered his own cup slowly, staring at him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and barely contained excitement. "A peach?"

"Yeah."

"Ripe? Whole? Someone handed it to you directly?"

Jungwon blinked at him. "Yes? Why does that matter?"

Sunoo set his coffee down entirely now, leaning forward like Jungwon had just handed him the best gossip of the year. "Do you seriously not know what that is?"

"It's a dream about fruit?"

Honestly, Sunoo never wanted to face palmed himself, but hearing the dumb answer Jungwon gave him got him a reason to. 

"It's a taemong." When Jungwon only stared blankly back at him, Sunoo let out a groan of disbelief. "A conception dream. My grandmother used to talk about these constantly. Fruit, animals, sometimes fire or water, show up in a dream right before someone in the family finds out they're having a baby. Whole ripe fruit like that, handed directly to you? That's about as classic as it gets."

Jungwon huffed, unimpressed, turning his cup slowly between his hands. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious. It's not just some old wives' thing.  Half the moms I know still swear by it. My cousin dreamed about catching a fish barehanded, and two weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. My aunt dreamed about a dragon curling around her arm and had twins."

"That's confirmation bias," Jungwon said flatly. "People remember the dreams that match and forget the ones that don't."

"Sure, sure, very scientific of you, Dr. Yang." Sunoo waved a hand, entirely unbothered by the skepticism. "But you're not the one who usually has these dreams, that's the funny part. It's not always the mother. Sometimes it's the father, or a grandparent, sometimes even a close friend if the dream's strong enough. But if it's the father dreaming it..." He trailed off, grinning now, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "That usually means it's already happened. The universe is just running a little behind on paperwork."

Jungwon rolled his eyes, though something in his chest had gone strangely tight at the words, an unease he couldn't quite explain rationally. "I don't believe in that stuff."

"You don't have to believe in it for it to be true," Sunoo said, entirely too pleased with himself. "That's kind of the whole point of a folktale, isn’t it?"

Jungwon didn't have a response for that. He just sat there, turning his coffee cup slowly in his hands, telling himself it was nothing. Probably just stress, exhaustion, and an overactive mind conjuring strange images after too many back to back shifts. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore. There was no one in his life the dream could reasonably be about.

He didn't let himself finish that thought all the way through.

"It's nothing," he said again, mostly to convince himself. "Just a weird dream."

Sunoo shrugged, tossing his empty cup toward the trash with practiced ease, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go. "Sure. Just a weird dream."

Jungwon didn't think much more of it after that. Not consciously, anyway. But the image stayed with him regardless, lingering somewhere quiet at the edges of his following days.  A garden, a peach, and a stranger's hands offering him something he hadn't known, yet, that he was already holding.

.

.

.

The clinic wasn't one you'd been to before.

A coworker had recommended it months ago, so excited about the obstetrics department that you'd written the name down without a second thought. It was near campus, near enough to squeeze in an appointment between lectures without sacrificing half your day to traffic.

You wish. That was it. Comfort. Distance from your former life. A doctor who didn’t know your story. Somebody who would see one more first time patient. That's all.

You sat, one leg bouncing under your chair, fingertips tracing the edge of the bracelet wrapped loosely about your wrist. You'd practiced the appointment on the drive over. If they asked about the father, you would tell them as you have been rehearsing it in your mind. 

We're not together.

If they pressed further, then—

I'd rather not discuss it.

Simple.

"Y/L/N?"

A nurse called your name, and you followed her down a hallway that smelled like antiseptic and lavender hand soap, into a small exam room with a poster of a fetal development chart on the wall that you deliberately didn't look at too long.

"Dr. Yang will be with you in just a moment," the nurse said, and left you there with your paper gown and your racing thoughts.

You didn't think anything of the name. Yang wasn't uncommon. You sat on the edge of the exam table, hands folded in your lap, running through the questions you wanted to ask — due dates, next steps, whether the exhaustion you'd been feeling was normal or something to worry about.

Then the door opened.

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Yang Jung—"

The sentence didn't finish. It just stopped, cut clean in half, the way a record scratches when the needle's yanked away too fast.

You looked up. And your whole body went cold.

He remained frozen in the doorway, one hand still curled around the handle like he'd forgotten how to let go of it. The patient chart in his other hand slipped slightly in his grip, not enough to fall, just enough that you noticed his fingers had momentarily stopped remembering their one job. Recognition moved across his face almost instantly, undisguised, unrehearsed, nothing like the practiced composure a doctor was supposed to walk into a room with.

The overhead lights were full on him now. Clinical, unfriendly, not like the dim gold haze of that bar a month ago. No booze to take the edge off. No shadows to hide the details And you couldn’t miss him. Same face. Same eyes that witnessed you break against a hotel room door. Quiet and searching, in a way that had seemed to him that night the only honest thing left in the world. Except the face was on a man in a white coat. A stethoscope draped around his neck. His name stitched in careful navy thread over his heart.

Yang Jungwon.

Neither of you said anything. The seconds stretched, thin and unbearable, the fluorescent hum of the room suddenly deafening in the silence. As if hoping he was mistaken. He wasn't.

"...You?"

It barely qualified as a word. More breath than voice. Your mouth had gone completely dry. The sentence never got a chance to finish. Neither of you needed it to.

You weren't doing much better. Your hands had grown cold, and sat in your lap, fingers pressed together hard enough to leave imprints. The paper gown crackled a little with each too-quick breath. You’d spent a month talking yourself into believing that night belonged to some other you, reckless and grieving and gone by morning. And here he was, a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck, his name stitched over his heart, undeniably real, undeniably the same man.

Neither of you said anything. 

His gaze dropped. Not to the chart. To your left hand. The engagement ring was gone. Then, almost involuntarily, his eyes moved lower. To the file tucked beneath his arm. He looked at your name. Gestational age. Estimated conception date. The room became impossibly quiet. His jaw tightened. Not because he was calculating. Because he already had. He didn't need the dates. He remembered the night. The chart simply confirmed what he already knew.

"...Is the baby mine?"