( 박성훈 ) In which - You just moved to Seoul and got a job as Park Sunghoon’s new assistant. But Seoul is expensive, so at night you work as a bartender at a hostess club to make extra money. Until one night, you get booked for a private room with your new boss… and the next day, you’re bending over his desk.
The fluorescent lights of Parktech hummed above my desk like they were mocking me. I’d only been here three weeks, but the rhythm was already burned into my bones: arrive early, stay late, never let Park Sunghoon see you breathe wrong.
“Choi,” his voice cut through the open-plan floor like a blade. No greeting. No warmth. Just my last name, sharp enough to make the intern at the next desk flinch. “Call back Mr. Lee. Tell him the merger terms are non-negotiable. If he pushes back, transfer him to me.”
I nodded without looking up, fingers already flying across the keyboard to pull up the contact. Sunghoon didn’t wait for confirmation. He never did. His footsteps receded toward the glass-walled corner office, the one everyone avoided unless summoned.
Ten minutes later the intercom crackled again.
“Choi. Go down the street. Black iced coffee. No sugar. No cream. And don’t be slow.”
I grabbed my coat without a word. The entire floor watched me leave like I was walking to execution. That was the effect Park Sunghoon had; people held their breath until he was gone.
By Friday the tension had only thickened. The week had been brutal: endless revisions, last-minute presentations, Sunghoon’s voice slicing through every meeting with that same icy precision. I was exhausted, running on caffeine and the knowledge that rent was due in six days.
Which is why, at ten p.m., I was behind the bar at a hostess club tucked away in the back alleys of Seoul; masked, anonymous, pouring overpriced whiskey for men who thought money could buy everything.
The pay was shit, but rent in this city was worse. So I smiled, poured the drinks, and stayed behind the counter, where it was safe. That rule kept me sane.
The door opened and the air shifted.
Four men in dark suits walked in like they owned the night. At the center was fucking Park Sunghoon, shoulders squared, expression carved from stone. His friends were with him; executives I recognized from Parktech's upper floors. They moved toward the corner booth without looking around, the way predators don’t need to scan for prey.
My stomach dropped. I ducked behind the bar, Fuck. Heart hammering so loud I was sure the whole room could hear it.
An hour into my shift, Jaejoon, the club's manager hurried over, sweat beading along his hairline.
“Listen.” he whispered, voice shaking. “There’s a man. He’s offered triple the usual rate for a private room… with you.”
I shook my head hard. “FUCK no. I don’t do privates. I make drinks. That’s it. You know this Jaejoon!”
“He’s not the kind of client you refuse, Chlo.” Jaejoon said, using my hostess name. There was a note of desperation in his voice. “Please. Just this once. I can’t afford to lose this place.”
Lose this place? What the hell does he mean?!
I looked around, searching for the man who was looking at me. But I couldn’t find him… Am I really about to do this?
"Okay; but I don't do more than dancing, Jaejoon." I said to him removing my apron.
"Great! Great! I don't think he's expecting anything more. Thank you, Chlo!" Jaejoon blurted, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before rushing off.
I stood in front of Room 004, my hand hovering over the handle. Fuck. Am I really about to do this? It wasn't like I'd never tried being a ‘floor’ hostess. I just wasn't any good at it. I was kinda….awkward, and I always ended up retreating behind the safety of the bar.
Ugh... fuck, Aria. Just open the freaking door! I yelled at myself. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my fingers around the handle.
The private room smelled of expensive cologne and leather. Low lights washed over the velvet couches. When I stepped inside, my mask still on, I nearly stopped breathing.
Seated on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest like he had all the time in the world, was none other than Sunghoon Park.
What the actual fuck?!
Jaejoon had sent me to him. Seoul's biggest CEO.
My fucking boss.
The man who paid my bills. Well... not all of them; most. If he did, I wouldn't be working in this fucking hostess club in the first place!
I froze for half a second. Then I forced my body to move. I started to dance; slow, deliberate, hips rolling to the low beat bleeding through the walls. I kept my eyes on the floor, on the wall, anywhere but his face. My hands slid down my sides, tracing the short hem of my skirt. I could feel his stare like a physical weight.
Hey, God... so, I don't usually ask You for much, remember? But if You're taking requests... please kill me right now.
“You know,” Sunghoon said, voice low and even, “my friends and I haven’t been back here in some months. The club was starting to bore us…Until I saw you.”
I kept dancing, refusing to answer.
“You usually just make drinks?” he continued. “Why? You'd make a lot more money on the floor. You're far too beautiful to be hiding behind a bar.”
He reached out, fingers brushing toward my thigh. I slapped his hand away without thinking. The sound cracked through the room. Sunghoon didn’t flinch. He just looked at his hand, then back at me, something dark flickering behind those cold eyes.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t like when men touch you; Hm? Is that your kink?”
My pulse hammered. I kept moving, turning my back to him, rolling my hips in a slow circle. The silence stretched until it felt like it might snap.
Then his hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist, spinning me back to face him. His gaze locked onto mine through the mask.
“Do I know you?” Sunghoon asked. The question came out of nowhere. I froze. For a second, my heart stopped.
What the fuck?
I shook my head quickly, forcing myself to stay calm. “No,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t think so.”
He studied me, his gaze lingering like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“No... no,” he murmured. “You just look very familiar.”
My stomach tightened. “I just moved to Seoul,” I said quickly. “I highly doubt it.”
But he didn't look convinced. “You really do look familiar.”
“I’m sure I don’t.” I replied, forcing a small smile. His eyes stayed on me, searching for answers I wasn't ready to give.
Panic made me reckless. Before I could think twice, I straddled his lap in one motion, and crashed my mouth against his. Hoping to distract him before he could figure out why I looked familiar.
The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue. I ground down hard, rolling my hips against the growing hardness beneath his slacks. His hands stayed at his sides at first, letting me take control, but I could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his breathing changed.
I kissed him deeper, sucking on his lower lip, biting just enough to sting. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging his head back so I could lick up his neck. He tasted like expensive whiskey and something darker. I rocked against him harder, feeling the thick line of his cock straining against fabric.
Every roll of my hips dragged my barely-covered pussy over him, the friction sending sparks up my spine.
Fuck. Why does this feel so good? My brain was screaming at me to stop, but my body wasn't listening.
Sunghoon’s control finally cracked. His hands gripped my waist, not pulling me closer but holding me exactly where he wanted. He thrust up once, sharp and deliberate, and I gasped into his mouth. The sound seemed to please him. He did it again, slower this time, dragging the head of his cock against my clit through layers of clothing until I was shaking.
“You’re soaked,” he murmured against my lips, voice still cold even as his body burned beneath me. “Dripping through your panties onto my pants. Is this what you wanted when you slapped my hand away; Miss Bartender?”
I didn’t answer. I just kissed him harder, biting his tongue, grinding down until the seam of his slacks caught perfectly against my clit. My thighs trembled. I could feel how big he was, how hard, and the thought of him inside me made my head spin.
Fuck, Aria. This is literally your fucking boss.
Sunghoon’s fingers dug deep into my hips, guiding my movements into a filthy rhythm. Up, down, forward, back. Each drag pulled a whimper from my throat that I tried to swallow. He didn’t let me. He chased every sound, tilting his head to deepen the kiss until I was dizzy from lack of air.
I reached between us, palming the thick bulge in his pants. He hissed, hips jerking. I squeezed, feeling the heat of him, the way he twitched under my touch. My other hand slid under his shirt, nails scraping over the hard plane of his stomach. He was all muscle and tension, barely leashed.
“Careful,” he warned, voice low. “You’re playing with something you might not be able to handle.”
I answered by popping the button of his slacks open, sliding the zipper down just enough to free the head of his cock. It was hot and slick already, precum beading at the tip. I rubbed my thumb over it, spreading it, then wrapped my fingers around the thick shaft and stroked once, slow and tight.
Sunghoon’s head fell back against the couch. For the first time, his mask slipped. His jaw clenched, breath coming faster. I stroked him again, twisting my wrist at the head, watching his throat work as he swallowed a groan.
I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You like that, Sir? Getting jerked off in a hostess club? acting like a animal?—”
His hand shot up, fingers wrapping around my throat; not squeezing, just holding. The threat was there. The promise. “Keep talking like that and I’ll bend you over this couch right now.”
Okay, fuck. Why is this turning me on?
I squeezed his cock harder in response. He thrust into my fist, once, twice, then stilled himself with visible effort.
His other hand slid under my skirt, fingers brushing the soaked crotch of my panties. He pressed two fingers against my clit through the fabric, rubbing in tight circles until my hips stuttered.
“Fuck,” I breathed, forehead dropping to his shoulder. The dual sensation; my hand on his cock, his fingers working my clit. It was too much.
ARIANA!
“Enough,” I muttered, forcing myself back to reality. “Time’s up.” I climbed off his lap and straightened my clothes, pretending my heart wasn't still racing.
Sunghoon blinked, dazed, as if he was still trying to understand what had just happened. Then, just like that, he was back in control. He stood, adjusted himself with calm efficiency, and the cold CEO persona settled back over him like a mask.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black card. No name. Just a number embossed in silver.
“Listen,” he said, voice back to that icy calm. “I don’t do this often. But I have my own private club. It’s more intense; not everybody can come inside. Let me know if you want to work there. For me; only.”
He placed the card in my palm, fingers brushing mine for the briefest second. Then he straightened his suit, and walked out without looking back.
I sat there on the velvet couch, legs still shaking, the card burning a hole in my hand. The music outside pulsed on like nothing had changed. But everything had.
Fuck.
The fluorescent lights hummed above my head as Monday dragged its feet across the office floor.
Every click of my keyboard felt louder than it should, every glance from Sunghoon across the bullpen sent a pulse straight between my thighs. He didn’t know it was me that night at the club. He still thought the girl who straddled him in the dark was just some nameless hostess. But I knew.
I felt the ghost of his mouth on mine every time I closed my eyes. His fingers digging into my waist like he wanted to brand me. The black card he’d slipped into my hand burned in my purse like a secret I wasn’t ready to spend.
I wasn’t thinking about taking the job. Not really. I was thinking about the way he’d said “more intense.” What the hell did that mean?
What kind of club did a CEO like him belong to? The questions looped in my head until his voice cut through them like a blade.
“Choi. My office. Now.”
My stomach dropped. I stood on shaky legs and walked in, trying not to meet his eyes. The skyline behind his desk was already bleeding orange and purple, the sun slipping low. It was almost eight. I had an hour left on the clock and zero desire to be alone with him.
“Close the door.”I did. The click sounded final.
“Sit.”
I sat. He paced around his office, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. Then he stopped behind me.
“I know it was you.”
My breath caught. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
He leaned down, voice low. “Oh, but I think you do, Chlo.” The name slid over my skin like a threat. “I really don’t—”
His hand wrapped around my throat from behind. I slapped it away on instinct. Just like I did that night. A straight-hand wrist twist, a clean movement around his hand; just like I had learned so many years ago.
“I knew it.” he growled, spinning my chair to face him. His eyes were dark, hungry. “Those marks on your waist. Five half-moons. My fingers. Friday night.”
“Fuck.” I whispered.
“I just don’t—” I cut him off as I stood up. “I think it’s better if I leave. I’m sorry. I won’t tell anybody,” I said, walking toward the door. But I didn’t get very far.
The moment I tried to bolt, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back against him. His mouth crashed over mine before I could speak.
I fought it for half a second but then melted. My body betrayed me, legs hooking around his waist when he lifted me like I weighed nothing. He carried me to the desk, one arm sweeping everything to the floor in a crash of papers and pens. My ass hit the cool wood and he was already standing between my thighs, hands shoving my blouse up.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that night.” he muttered against my neck, teeth scraping. “How many times I’ve jerked off thinking about the way you rode my cock like you were starving for it.”
I moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”
He laughed, low and filthy, and yanked my panties aside. Two fingers dragged through my slick folds, circling my clit until my hips jerked. “Already soaked. Such a good little slut for your boss.”
He freed his cock, thick and flushed, and lined up without warning. One hard thrust and he was buried to the hilt. I cried out, back arching, the stretch burning so good it made my vision blur. He didn’t give me time to adjust; just started fucking me in deep, punishing strokes that rocked the desk against the window.
“Fuck—Sunghoon—”
“Say it louder.” he snarled, slapping my thigh hard enough to sting. “Let the whole floor hear what a desperate whore you are.”
I bit my lip, but the next thrust punched a moan out of me anyway. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other wrapped around my throat again, squeezing just enough to make my pulse thunder. Each snap of his hips drove me higher, the wet sound of skin on skin obscene in the quiet office.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto my stomach, and bent me over the desk. My cheek pressed to the glassdesk. He kicked my legs wider, yanked my skirt up, and slammed back in. The new angle punched against my cervix and I sobbed, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface.
“Hands behind your back.” he ordered. I obeyed without thinking. He grabbed both wrists in one fist, using the grip to pull me back onto his cock with every thrust. The other hand came down hard on my ass; once, twice, three times. Leaving hot, stinging prints that made my pussy clench around him.
“Nobody knows you’re like this” he panted, voice ragged. “The perfect little employee by day. But behind closed doors; an animal. you take it so fucking deep, Fuck. You love being used.”
I couldn’t answer. Every slap, every brutal thrust, every filthy word pushed me closer to the edge. He reached around, found my clit, and rubbed tight circles while he fucked me harder, faster, the desk creaking under us.
“Come,” he growled. “Come on your boss’s cock while the whole city watches.”
I shattered. My orgasm ripped through me so hard my knees buckled. Sunghoon fucked me through it, chasing his own release, and when he came he buried himself to the root with a guttural moan, flooding me with heat. I felt every pulse, every twitch, until he finally stilled, chest heaving against my back.
He didn’t pull out right away. Just leaned over me, lips brushing my ear.
ㅤㅤ✿𝆬 𓂂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯ （ 𝗪𝗖 : 𝟭.𝟴𝗞 ）: husband! hee, married couple, preg. intimacy, belly worship, breast play, slow deep sex, creampie, praise kink, gentle dom, cockwarming, body adoration, fluffy smut, mutual climax, tender aftercare, mdni.
Just me... having to upload this all over again from scratch because, apparently, this stupid app has something personal against this specific post. I ended up deleting it just so I could repost it.
The soft amber glow from the bedside lamp spills across the sheets as Heeseung leans back against the headboard, his voice low and warm, carrying easily through the quiet room.
“Baby? Are you okay? You almost done in there? Need some help?” He hasn’t taken his eyes off the bathroom door since you disappeared behind it, anticipation humming under his skin. The air carries that quiet, intimate scent of late night : clean sheets, the faint trace of his body wash still clinging to his skin, and the warm, almost sweet undertone that’s started to bloom around you these last few months, something uniquely yours now that pregnancy has shifted every hormone and every breath.
“I'm here now, Mr. Impatient... Don't worry too much”. You step out in nothing but one of his oversized sleep shirts, the hem barely skimming the tops of your thighs, your rounded belly pushing gently against the soft cotton. The fabric is warm from your body heat, slightly damp at the small of your back where you’ve been restless.
Heeseung’s gaze instantly traces every changed curve of your body, dark eyes catching on the fuller swell of your breasts, the way your nipples press faintly against the shirt, the gentle rise and fall of your stomach with each breath.
“Hi, pretty mommy,” he murmurs, voice velvet-soft and already a little rough around the edges. He reaches for you immediately, palms open, patient, fingers long and warm. “C’mere, let me love you.”
You climb onto the bed carefully and he helps you every inch of the way, steadying your hips with gentle pressure, guiding you until you’re straddling his lap, your belly resting warm and heavy against the taut plane of his abdomen. The moment your weight settles he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours, a soft, shaky sound that fans hot across your collarbone.
“Just look at you, my goddess…” he breathes, fingers splaying reverently over the curve of your stomach. His palms are slightly calloused, the texture a familiar comfort as his thumbs stroke slow, worshipful arcs. You can feel the faint tremor in them. “You’re so gorgeous it hurts.”
You laugh quietly, a little shy, a little overwhelmed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. “I feel huge and heavy, by the way.”
“You’re perfect,” he corrects instantly, almost fierce about it. He leans in and presses the softest, lingering kiss just below your navel; lips warm and plush. Then another kiss a little higher, then another, until he’s nosing along the underside of your breast through the shirt, the heat of his mouth seeping through the thin cotton, making the fabric cling slightly where it dampens.
When you rock your hips just the tiniest bit, testing, the friction of him already half-hard beneath his boxers drags a low groan from his throat. His grip tightens on your waist, not to stop you, but to steady you, fingertips pressing just enough to leave the ghost of warmth behind.
“Tell me what feels good tonight, baby,” he whispers against your collarbone, voice rougher now, breath humid on your skin. “Anything you want, my love. Slow. Fast. Just grinding. Mouth or hands only. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
You cup his face, thumbs brushing the line of his cheekbones. His eyes are so dark, so liquid with adoration it makes your chest ache, pupils blown wide in the low light.
“Just you,” you say honestly. “Just… like this. Close to me and our babies.”
Heeseung makes a broken little sound in his throat, almost a whimper. He kisses you then, deep and unhurried, tongue sliding against yours slow and deliberate, tasting faintly of mint toothpaste and something more like him. One hand stays protectively cradling the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, massaging your scalp in tiny circles. The other slips between your bodies. Long fingers find you already slick, swollen, sensitive from pregnancy hormones, and he groans into your mouth when he feels how ready you are, the sound vibrating against your lips.
“Always so wet for me,” he mumbles, circling your clit with featherlight pressure, just enough to make your thighs tremble and your breath catch in little hitches. The pads of his fingers are warm, slightly rough, gliding easily through your arousal. “Love feeling you like this… so full of me already, and still dripping.”
He doesn’t rush. He works you open with two fingers, slowly, curling gently against that spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl against the sheets. Every few strokes he pauses to kiss your throat, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, soft, open-mouthed presses that leave faint wet marks on your skin; whispering things like “So good for me” and “Love you so much” and “Can’t believe you’re carrying our twins,” each word punctuated by the soft, wet sound of his fingers moving inside you.
When you start to rock down onto his hand he pulls his fingers free, slick and shining in the lamplight, and guides himself to your entrance instead. The head of him nudges in : hot, velvet-smooth, already leaking a little, and you both freeze for a second, breathing hard, chests rising and falling together.
Heeseung’s forehead drops to yours, the tip of his nose brushing yours, sharing the same warm, uneven air. “Okay?”
You nod, fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, tugging just enough to feel him shiver. “Yeah, my love. Just… take it slow, please.”
He sinks in so carefully it’s almost torture. Every ridge, every inch, stretching you open with exquisite patience. You feel the subtle pulse of him inside you, the way he throbs once he’s fully seated. When he’s buried to the hilt he stills, arms wrapped around you, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other protectively curved over your belly like he’s shielding both of you. You can feel the rapid flutter of his heartbeat against your own, the slight sheen of sweat starting to gather at his temples. For a long minute you just stay like that, connected, full, hearts hammering against each other, the only sounds are your shared breathing and the faint rustle of sheets.
Then, with a soft, reverent murmur of “Let me see all of you, baby… I need to see my beautiful mommy and all her changes” he slides his hands under the hem of the oversized shirt, slowly peeling it up and off your body in one gentle tug.
The cool air kisses your overheated skin as he drops the fabric aside, his dark eyes drinking in every new curve, your heavy, swollen breasts with their hardening nipples, the full roundness of your belly cradling your twins, the soft stretch marks glowing faintly in the lamplight.
“Fuck… Being like this definitely suits you, babe. You're driving me crazy” he breathes, voice thick with awe and hunger, palms immediately rising to cup the weight of your breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until they tighten under his touch. He leans in and captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking slow and deep, tongue swirling warm and wet while his other hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The sensation shoots straight to your core, making you clench hard around his cock still buried inside you, and you can’t help the needy little whimper that escapes you.
You need him so badly it aches, more than just the fullness between your legs. Your hands fist in his hair, tugging him closer as you arch into his mouth, rocking your hips in tiny, desperate movements that drag his thick length against your walls and grind your clit against his pelvis.
“Heeseung… please,” you gasp against his lips when he finally pulls back from your breast with a wet pop, only to crash his mouth to yours again in a deeper, messier kiss; tongues sliding hot and urgent, sharing breathy moans while his hands keep groping and squeezing your breasts, thumbs flicking over the slick, spit-shined nipples. “I need you so much… feel so good, I can't get enough of you.”
He groans into the kiss, the sound raw and broken, hips starting to move in those deep, lazy thrust again, grinding up into you so the base of him presses right against your clit with every pass, dragging slow sparks of pleasure through your whole body while his mouth never leaves yours for long. He pulls back just enough to suck on your bottom lip, then dives back in, kissing you like he’s starving, like he can’t get close enough even buried to the hilt. The friction is perfect; silky heat, the way your wetness eases every glide, your breasts bouncing softly with each roll of his hips as he keeps groping them, pinching and soothing in turns.
“That’s my perfect girl… show me how much you need me,” he whispers hotly against your mouth between kisses, voice wrecked. “Ride me just like that, use me for you pleasure, baby, I’m all yours.”
It’s overwhelming, but safe, feels like home. You bury your face in his neck for a moment only to lift it again, chasing his lips for another deep, open-mouthed kiss, tongues tangling as you clench around him on purpose and feel him throb in response. He keeps the rhythm gentle but deeper now, grinding harder against your clit until the heat coils tight and bright behind your navel, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescent marks. When you start to shake he cradles the back of your head, keeps kissing your temple, your cheek, murmuring
“That’s it, let go for me, I’ve got you, my sweet angel.” over and over, voice wrecked and tender. You come with a soft, shattered cry, pulsing around him, walls fluttering, and he follows right after, quiet, wrecked, hips jerking once, twice, before he stills deep inside you, spilling hot and slow while he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe, a low, trembling groan muffled against your shoulder.
For a long time afterward he doesn’t pull out. He just keeps you wrapped around him, both arms around your back, chin tucked over your shoulder, breathing you in slow, deep inhales like he’s trying to memorize the exact scent of your skin right now. His fingers trace idle patterns over your lower back, soothing the faint ache that’s started to settle there from the extra weight.
“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers eventually, voice raw and quiet in the hush of the room. “Both of you. I love you”
You smile against his neck, sleepy and warm and so full of him, of his love, of the two little lives between you, the steady heartbeat you can feel fluttering faintly against your belly.
“Love you more, Hee” you mumble, words slurring with exhaustion and contentment.
He huffs the tiniest laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours, and presses one last lingering kiss to your hair. “Not even possible, my love.”
logline. The clumsy Spider-Man and a stubborn journalist navigate the woes of a blooming relationship amidst crime investigations.
breaking news briefer + masterlist | full fic (taglist now closed!)
pairing. spider-man! lee heeseung / evan x journalist! reader
tags. spider-man au, hee & y/n are working adults, established courtship (not yet an official relationship!), friends to lovers, superhero things, eventual smut, porn with plot, stupid people in love (and in danger) more to be updated!
w.c. 840/TBA (currently 7k as of 8/7/26)
aerith's letter. this had been in drafts and revisions for three months. it has to be released someday, so why not through a teaser for #accountability and #being_perceived. i was also thinking to make the rest of enha really cool spider-man villains but i'm thinking abt it though... anyways, i hope you like it!
You snapped out of your routine with lip gloss barely twisted open. You turned to your balcony window with a cocked brow. Lo and behold, the city’s most beloved superhero waved through the glass door with a ruffled bouquet of daisies on hand. You rolled your eyes before focusing back on your make-up.
“It’s open,” you said aloud before painting the gloss on your lips.
Spider-Man entered your studio apartment with ease. He pulled his mask over his head before ruffling his red hair all over. Through your periphery, he flashed you his sheepish smile and the transformation completed–the superhero turned into the simple Lee Heeseung. As you smacked your lips together, you watched him stride towards you in the mirror. He reached out to you–hesitating for a split second–before tucking your hair away to plant a chaste kiss on your temple.
“Hi, pretty,” he whispered onto your skin. He also placed the ruffled daisies over your vanity.
You beamed up to him, leaning onto his warmth. “Hi Spidey. Thanks for the flowers.”
“And as always, sorry to disturb.” He chuckled as he pulled away, settling on your bed. “There’s, like, 30 minutes left until Boss hunts us down. Take your time, and let me know if we’re ready to go, okay?”
You shook your head in amused disbelief. He spoke as if he would be driving you around the city. Nonetheless, you just hummed. “Alright!”
Besides, who would have thought you’d date Spider-Man?
Disclaimer: Spider-Man wasn’t your boyfriend yet. There are pros and cons in dating a superhero, and these should factor in your eventual commitment with him. Luckily, your superhero was also super earnest. You can’t help but appreciate his efforts, like:
As he just did, you always get a bouquet of white daisies or sunflowers. However, as you saw earlier, the bouquet can be barely intact because, well, he swung to get here.
He still brings you to work though, because–plot twist–Spider-Man is your co-worker! You practically get a free ride to work everyday, but getting ready can be messy… Because… You guessed it–you swung to get there.
No, you did not have issues with his swinging. That is his entire gimmick. You personally found it thrilling up in the sky, feeling the air on your face, skimming through the valleys of buildings, and relishing in the adrenaline. Plus, those webs? You have no idea how much they have saved you (and your dishes) so many times.
You brushed through your hair with products, taming it as much as you could before fighting against the city air. You glanced at the mirror to check on Heeseung and you bit back a chuckle. He simply gawked at you. His doe-like eyes followed your every move, completely mesmerized by your routine. It wrung at your heart a little.
Who would have thought you’d date Lee Heeseung?
You met Heeseung in university years ago. He was the stammering genius classmate in your general education courses. He even became a video producer for the student publication at the time, while you were a student journalist writing investigative news. In rare instances where you reported on screen, you noted how quiet yet excellently he worked. That dynamic translated well into the present. You were now a broadcast journalist in The Star Inquirer, while Heeseung was an audio technician on set. Both rookies who excelled in their fields.
Since then, you always knew Heeseung to be stellar until a performance crash during senior year. He worked as an intern in the laboratories of the Park conglomerates, but it closed down due to the fraudulent scandals of the former CEO. It was revealed that he was the mastermind that funded not only the city’s developments but also the criminal scene. Alongside that chaos, Heeseung underwent his own transformation.
That was the behind-the-scenes of a superhero debut: Spider-Man imprisoning his first villain. You were lucky to coin the heroic name first, and your student publication went crazy viral over it. You also watched how your co-staffers fawned over Spider-Man too much when you first interviewed him.
You scheduled another interview with him after being interrupted by the police. You needed the content for your article, after all, then you saw Spider-Man alright. On your balcony, with his mask pulled over his head without realizing your presence. You locked eyes with Heeseung that night.
The rest was history.
Well, besides the little tidbit where he asked you out after graduation. He wanted to court you in the old-fashioned way. He also confessed his crush on you since freshman year. He thanked you endlessly for his trust. He was red the entire time, so it was not difficult to say yes. By twist of fate, you two ended up in the same studio. And with how things are going, you think it wouldn’t be too long until you accept his proposal.
You were really just waiting for your big break before making things too real.
Your big break. Fuck.
final notes. shooting my shot so... if you'd like to be in a taglist, you can comment under this post! i want to try to be more active here since i have so many drafts + i love the writers here T_T ok i hope i finish this wish me luck!!!!
you really don’t know how it happened. one moment you were asking your sweet boyfriend to take pictures of you on your new camera and the next he has you pinned down, mini-skirt tossed up, with his face buried in your sopping cunt.
“nghh, y-yun please!”
jake peers up at you from between your thighs, his fluffy brown hair a tangled mess from your fingers and his big pointy nose glistening from your heavenly juices. he only groans in response, focusing on your throbbing clit that he is currently suckling between his plump lips.
“please what, bunny?” his slender fingers tug your panties farther to the side, granting him more access to your needy cunt. “ya keep beggin’ but not telling me what for, hm?” he hums into your folds, the tip of his pink, skilled muscle dragging down from your sweet bundle of nerves towards your entrance without breaking eye contact.
“mm p-please i. . . i want you inside,” you whine out pathetically, covering your flushed face in embarrassment which only makes jake chuckle lightly in response at your cuteness. his eyes flicker towards the digital camera propped against the nightstand, the red dot flashing at you almost tauntingly.
his gaze wanders up with a thoughtful expression, lips curled in a small pout — but you could already tell he was merely pretending to consider your request.
“nahh, i have a better idea.”
“fuck— fuck! hold still babydoll,” jake pants as his thick, veiny cock disappears into the makeshift hole he ripped in the bottom of your little panties. the large print of his shaft bulging through the soaked thin fabric from your mixed arousal.
his red, weeping tip catches against your clit on every upward stroke, making you writhe beneath him and cry out borderline pornographic moans as the room fills with the obscene sound of wet skin rubbing together. your poor, swollen lips hug and drag against the underside of his shaft so perfectly while he continues his assault between them.
jake runs his fingers through the damp strands of his hair, pushing it back as his free hand brings the camera up towards your fucked out face. the bright flash from the camera making you squint.
“smile, my pretty girl. . .” he cooes, before lowering the lens down to your joined areas molding and squelching together.
you are so slick that your panties have practically become a second skin, sticking to you in a way that allows for jake to see the outline of your puffy lips through the material as he slides his cock through the tight pocket he’s created, glans rubbing between your smooth folds oh so deliciously.
“jakey. . . a-ah- put your cock in my pussy please,” you plead.
“shh, be a good girl and take what i give you, angel,” he taps your lips with his middle and ring fingers, signaling for you take them into your mouth as he brings the camera back up to your face to capture the way your damp, doe eyes look up at him so innocently in the low quality lens and drools slips from the corner of your lips.
“fuck— you are beautiful, all fucking mine.” he turns the camera lens towards himself and flashes it a boyish grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he angles it to catch both your spread silhouette and his face perfectly.
he dips his head, lips latching onto the soft peaks of your breasts, a soft, wet popping sound emitting in the space as he lets each of them go.
you only moan in response, unable to form any coherent words as you are overwhelmed by all of the sensations he provides. you instinctively tilt your hips upwards in attempt for the ridge of his cockhead to catch against your creamy, ringed entrance on his downward stroke. a small whimper escapes when you succeed, feeling the tip sink in ever so slightly.
he quickly pulls away with a hiss, grabbing your face with his free hand while the camera stays focused on his cock teasing your pussy. “say it.”
he leans down to lick the hot tears streaming down your cheeks before crashing his lips against yours in a wet, salty kiss. his tongue dragging across your teeth hungrily. “mmph— all yours,” you moan back into his lips.
“yeahhhh, you are,” he moans, jaw slack as his grip on the camera tightens a fraction while he fucks his cock between your folds. it’s become such a sticky mess that he slips out every now and then. his relentless press against your clit makes the coil in your belly unwind fairly quickly. “soak my dick, yeah?”
his words send you over the edge as your walls clench around nothing and a gush of thin clear juices seep from your cunt, coating his thighs.
“s-shit baby! fuckfuck— ‘m gonna fuckin cum!”
you gasp when you feel the warm splatters of his sticky semen spurt across your folds, the milky cream slowly oozing down your slit and out of the hole from your ruined panties. his hips roll forward slowly, body twitching as his balls empty his load all over your labia, spread open like a pretty little flower from the shape of his cock molding them for so long.
jake smacks his teeth with a low huff. biting his lip until he tastes blood as he grabs ahold of his heavy, throbbing cock and smears his hot seed along the mushroom tip. he nudges the head between your lips and drags downward until he finally dips inside of your aching hole, which swallows him up greedily.
the initial stretch of his thick cockhead entering your warm pussy makes your back arch of the bed and your toes curl in satisfaction. he moans at the warm envelope from your cunt, eyebrows knitting together as he slowly fucks his sticky seed within your tunnel.
“s-shit doll— still so fuckin’ tight no matter how many times i fill you. she’s sucking me in so good, hm? hah— now, what do you say baby?”
“ohmygod yesyes! baby— t-thank you!” you cry out, eyes rolling back.
“fuckin’ cockdrunk already,” he laughs, stroking half of his length inside of you at cruel pace before bottoming out until his deflated balls rutt against your ass, “this tiny cunt is all f’ me, hm?” he thrusts slowly, dragging his length up and down your velvety walls.
jake only continues to praise you through strokes, being sure to spear against that spongey patch and ripping yet another messy orgasm from you. he follows, pulling his hips back slightly so only the tip remains as he pumps hot cum at the entrance of your pussy.
“haa-ah, ngh n-no more jakey,” you whine, hips still rolling to meet his thrusts despite yourself.
he chuckles, littering soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose and then lips until he notices a white frothy ring around his shaft. finally, he withdrawals with a wince, his softening cock slipping out with a soft, wet pop.
jake spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and brings the camera closer to witness the fresh creampie he delivered as it slowly dribbles out from between your swollen lips and down your ass. he watches as your hole opens and closes, forcing another glob of his love milk out when he commands you to push.
“yeah, good girl. fuuuck baby— you’re stuffed so full like a pastry. thats soo hot, can’t wait to beat my cock to this later.”
𓊆西村力 x fem reader𓊇 💌 semi-public sex, lowkey exhibitionism, grinding/dry humping, messy kiss, make out, nipples sucking, tits playing, cumming in pants, riki is freaky, biting, blonde riki, non-proofread
𓆩♡𓆪 i miss nishimura riki so much ... also + vgg's sequel...? idk...
the cursor blinked unmoved on the screen while your fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type the next sentence.
then the mattress dipped behind you.
your boyfriend, riki, was never the kind to ask for anything. he wanted something—? he’ll have it regardless. he climbed onto the bed, crawled over your legs, and dropped his full weight across your lap like a very large, very determined puma–cat.
one arm slid easily around your waist, locking you in place. his handsome face pressed into the soft space just under your ribs, warm breath fanning against bare skin when your shirt had ridden up.
he let out a low, contended hum and nuzzled deeper, the tip of his nose dragging slowly across your tummy.
“ki, it tickles…” you murmured, fingers pausing over the keyboard.
riki ignored you completely.
his mouth opened—soft, deliberate kisses bloomed across your skin. at first light and teasing, then firmer, lingering. his other arm naughtily slid up your bare back beneath the loose fabric of his shirt you were wearing—broad, warm palm spanning your spine until his slender fingers found the clasp of your bra.
he toyed with the hooks absently, stroking the thin band of fabric—never quite opening it… yet.
you tried to keep typing, focusing on the words despite the funny feeling in your tummy.
“i’m doing my work…”
his lips curved against your tummy. “just keep doing it, baby. i’m not botherin’ you.” another slow kiss, right beside your navel. then followed by the warm, wet drag of his tongue follow the same path.
a tiny shiver ran through you.
“yes, you are…”
he lifted his head just enough to speak against your skin, voice low. “how so?”
before you could answer, riki kissed lower, then licked a deliberate stripe across the softest part, just between your tummy folds. the sensation was electric—with the roughness of the surface of his tongue.
“hey—it tickles!” you gasped, a helpless giggle escaping as your tummy fluttered. you instantly tried to pry his head away with both hands, fingers sliding into his blonde locks.
but riki’s hold around you was stronger—he only grunted softly and bit under the spot he’d just licked. his incisors and canines dug into your flesh—the sudden pressure and light pain made you yelp, hips twitching under his weight.
your hands tightened in his hair, gripping hard enough to tilt his head back. he let you, dark eyes gleaming as they locked onto yours. you looked down at him, cheeks warm, expression (as seen in riki’s eyes) adorably mad, lips parting for the lecture—
“riki, you can’t do—”
—and that was the exact moment his fingers finally unhooked the clasp.
your bra loosened with a soft snap, straps going slack against your shoulders. riki never looked away from your face as he did it—a slow little smile curving his mouth—right before he dove in.
your boyfriend pushed the hem of your—his—shirt up and buried his face underneath the fabric, vanishing from sight. his mouth closed over your nipple, making your back arch and your shoulders hit the wall behind you.
a startled breath left you as the fabric of your shirt tented over the distinct shape of riki’s head, shifting and moving and pressing as he moved deeper.
his large hands roamed freely across your bare back, palm broad and warm, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades to hold you in place against the wall. under the shirt, he took your nipple into his mouth.
“o—oh gosh, ki—!”
his tongue circled, flicked—the tip pressed into your little nipple ‘till it sunk back into your breast—then he pressed his tongue flat. the suction pulling a soft sound from your throat.
the outline of his head moved beneath as he switched to the other side. due to the limited space, you could feel every shift: the brush of his nose, the scrape of his subtle facial hair, his hot breath against your wet tits as he bit around the peak before soothing it with another deep suck.
“fuck,” riki grunted, his free hand slid up your spine, then one hand came around to cup and play with the tit he wasn’t currenly claiming, thumb stroking the underside with his mouth assaulted the other.
you tilted your head up against the wall, fingers itching and twitching against the back of his head through your shirt, tangled where his head moved, the other hand buried in his hair through the material.
every time riki sucked harder, your tits rose and fell with his mouth, the whole front of your shirt alive with the restless motion of your selfish boyfriend claiming what he’d decided was his.
——
nishimura riki might be the most shameless person you’d ever met.
“ki… we can’t do it here…”
“hngh—why not?”
the study pod was one of the smaller ones on the fourth floor—glass walls only on the door, the only clear view. from outside, all anyone would see was riki’s broad back and the vague outline of someone on his lap. that was the entire extent of his caution.
in his defense, people barely came to this floor, anyway—so all was well.
you sat between his spread thighs, back flush against his chest. his arms were already around you, as they belonged. one hand splayed low across your tummy, keeping you pressed tight to him. the other curled under your jaw from behind and tilting your head back against his shoulder until your throat was bared and your face was angled toward his.
“i—if we’re caught, we could get expelled…” you whispered.
he answered with a low, rough sound against the side of your neck. “uh huh?”
riki obviously couldn’t give two fucks 'bout it.
‘cause just after that, he rolled his hips upward. the hard line of his cock dragged against the curve of your ass through the thin layers of your jeans and his, the pressure blatant. his fingers tightened under your jaw, forcing your head higher, and then his mouth was on yours from above.
he kissed you like the glass door didn’t exist. like the two of you weren’t in a public setting. tongue sliding deep, lips parting yours wider—soft wet sound so loud in the quiet pod. every time you tried to shift, he grinded up harder, the thick length nestling between your cheeks as he rocked in a filthy rhythm.
his thumb stroked along the hinge of your jaw while he kissed you deeper, swallowing the soft, helpless noise that escaped you.
your hands gripped his thighs on either side of you, fingers digging into his chrome hearts jeans. from the hallway, it would look like nothing more than a disgustingly pda-obsessed couple studying together—with riki’s back blocking almost everything.
but if the people came a little closer—be a little nosy and peeked just more than what they should—they would see far more than they bargained for.
they would see the way his hips kept rolling upward in slow circles, the thick, strained outline of his cock grinding hard between the cheeks of your ass, denim pulling tight. they would notice how the front of your jeans had already darkened at the seams where you sat pressed against him.
a shameless evidence of how much his shamelessness was affecting you.
and they would definitely see your face.
the way riki held your jaw from behind, his fingers drumming against your throat, keeping your head tilted back so he could kiss you as deeply as he wanted. his tongue fucking and thrusting into your mouth like it’s his cock.
mixed saliva had already begun to gather at the corner of your mouth—with every deep slide of his tongue, a thin, glistening trail slipped and dripped down the side of your chin and onto your blouse.
“mmh, ngh—” you muffled helplessly as riki sucked your tongue into his mouth, lips sealed around the organ. wet, filthy sound of it—like a cock fucking a drenched cunt—filled the quiet pod.
he didn’t just kiss, he fed on it.
his tongue fucked past your teeth in thorough strokes, then curled to pull your tongue into his mouth so he could suck on it again. another thick bead of spit spilled over the corner of your lips and trailed down your chin.
all the while his hips never stopped.
you could feel him throbbing through the layers, the heat of him almost burning. his arm around your waist tightened, fingers digging into your soft tummy as he toyed with the hem of your bra. his rhythm stuttered.
a broken moan vibrated against your tongue. riki’s grinding turned more erratic—once, twice, three hard upward thrusts that pressed the full, rigid shape of his cock deep between your cheeks—
then he came.
you felt it.
the sudden, hot pulse of him spilling inside his own expensive jeans, the wet heat spreading against your ass as he kept grinding through it, riding out every thick spurt with short, involuntary jerks of his hips.
riki’s mouth never left yours.
even as he came, he kept sucking and kissing, messy and open like neither of you knew how to kiss.
he only broke the kiss when the last tremor faded, lips wet and shining, forehead pressed to your temple as he breathed hard against your skin.
“still think we can’t?” he rasped, rolling his hips once more to let you feel the sticky mess he’d just made in his pants.
yeah.
your boyfriend is the most shameless person you'd ever met.
Warnings: •18+/MDNI •Possessiveness •edging •cockwarming •Jealousy •unprotected sex
╭☞Synopsis- Behind the cocky attitude and black hoodie is a secretly obsessed gamer who can’t focus the moment you’re in the room.
↝The boy who always goes AFK for you...
The apartment smelled like energy drinks, expensive cologne, and the faint metallic scent of overheating PCs. You stood in the doorway with your suitcase, staring at the chaos that was now going to be your home for the next few months.
Your best friend, Mina, had promised it would be fine.
“Heeseung barely leaves his room,” she had said. “He’s always streaming League or whatever. You’ll hardly notice him.”
He owned the entire apartment — three bedrooms, a massive living room turned into a gamer den, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. Mina had been renting one room for almost a year. When your dorm building had a pipe burst and flooded half the floor, she begged Heeseung to let you take the second spare room. He agreed… for an absurdly low price.
You just didn’t expect the owner to look like that.
Heeseung was leaning against the kitchen counter when you walked in, wearing an oversized black hoodie that somehow made his broad shoulders look even wider. The hood was up, silver hair peeking out messily. He was tall and annoyingly attractive. A half-empty Monster can sat beside him.
“Hey” he said, voice low and slightly bored. “You’re the new roommate?”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me stay,” you replied, trying to sound polite.
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. I stream until 4 a.m. most nights so good luck sleeping.”
Before you could respond, the front door opened again and three more guys piled in — Jake, Jungwon, and Sunghoon — loud, laughing, carrying takeout bags and controllers.
Jake spotted you first. His eyes lit up. “Damn. Mina didn’t say her best friend was this hot.”
Sunghoon gave you a once-over and smirked. Jungwon offered a shy but friendly smile.
You felt heat creep up your neck but forced a small smile. Heeseung’s gaze sharpened for a split second before he pushed off the counter.
“Living room’s mine for streaming,” he announced, already walking away. “Stay out of my setup and we’ll be good.”
Cocky.
Exactly the type you couldn’t stand.
The first week was quiet.
You kept to yourself. University classes in the morning, part-time job in the afternoon, and back to the apartment to study. Mina was barely home or hanging out with Sunghoon, leaving you alone with the boys most evenings.
Heeseung was always there.
Either locked in the biggest bedroom (which doubled as his streaming cave) or sprawled on the massive sectional in the living room with his friends, headset half-on, fingers flying over the keyboard and mouse as he carried ranked games in League of Legends.
He was good. Actually insane. You overheard his friends calling him “the best” more than once. Thousands of people watched him every night while he trash-talked opponents in that calm, deep voice.
But around the apartment? He was insufferable.
He’d walk around with his hood up even indoors, barely speaking to you unless it was to make some cocky comment.
“Studying again? Cute. Try not to fail while I’m out here making money playing games,” he’d say with that annoying half-smirk whenever he passed your open door.
You rolled your eyes every single time.
To cope, you started spending more time in the living room when the boys were over. At first you were quiet — just sitting on the far end of the couch with your laptop. But Jake was persistent.
“Yo, come closer. We don’t bite,” he grinned one night, patting the spot beside him.
You hesitated, but moved. Sunghoon offered you a drink. Jungwon asked about your classes. Slowly, you started talking more. Laughing at their jokes. Feeling… included.
Heeseung noticed.
His eyes would flick to you constantly from behind his monitors. When Jake threw an arm around your shoulders while laughing at a funny play, Heeseung’s jaw would tighten. When Sunghoon teased you about how pretty you looked after you came back from a night out, Heeseung’s fingers would pause on his keyboard for just a second too long.
But he never said anything directly.
Until the night you decided to push him.
It was a Friday.
Mina had gone out with Sunghoon on their first official date, leaving you alone with the boys. They were drinking — soju mixed with beer — celebrating Heeseung hitting a new peak rank.
You had one too many drinks yourself. The alcohol made you bold.
You sat right in the middle of them tonight, wearing a tight tank top and shorts. Jake was especially attentive, complimenting everything you said, making you laugh until your stomach hurt.
Heeseung was streaming but had the camera angled so only his setup showed.
You leaned into Jake’s side on purpose, letting him whisper something in your ear that made you giggle loudly.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung’s hand clench around his mouse.
“Jake,” Heeseung said suddenly, voice deceptively calm. “Focus on the game.”
Jake just laughed. “Can’t help it when she’s sitting right here looking like that.”
Your heart raced with petty satisfaction. You turned to Jake with a flirty smile. “Maybe I should sit on your lap next round. For good luck.”
Jungwon choked on his drink.
Heeseung finally looked straight at you. His eyes were dark, something unreadable swirling behind the cocky mask. He looked… annoyed.
But he didn’t say anything. He just unmuted his stream and kept playing like nothing happened.
Later, after the stream ended and Jake and Jungwon had gone home, you were a little drunk and buzzing with victory. You headed to the kitchen for water.
Heeseung was already there, leaning against the counter, hood down for once. His silver hair was messy, eyes tired but sharp.
“You done trying to piss me off?” he asked quietly.
You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Why? Is it working?”
He stared at you for a long moment. The air felt thicker.
Then he smirked — that same annoying, cocky smirk.
“Careful, newbie. You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules for.”
He brushed past you, shoulder grazing yours, leaving the faint scent of his cologne and the heat of his body behind.
You stood there in the dark kitchen, heart pounding, wondering why the hell his words made you feel both angry and strangely excited at the same time...
The next day-
The lecture hall felt endless today. By the time you finally dragged yourself out of university, your feet ached and your stomach was growling. You stopped at the usual spot and picked up two portions of spicy tteokbokki with rice cakes and fried chicken — Mina’s favorite. She had been texting you all week about how stressed her assignments were, so you figured a girls’ night in with food and gossip was overdue.
The apartment was suspiciously quiet when you pushed the door open at 8:17 PM, the warm glow of the living room LEDs the only light on.
“Mina?” you called out, kicking off your shoes. No answer. The takeout bags rustled in your hands as you set them on the kitchen counter.
You pulled out your phone and dialed her.
She picked up on the third ring, voice slightly breathless and giggly. “Hey babe!”
“Where are you? I brought tteokbokki and chicken. Thought we could eat and gossip”
Mina laughed softly. “Ah… shit. I’m out right now. Sunghoon picked me up after class. We’re just… hanging out.”
You frowned, leaning against the counter. “Hanging out? Again? Mina, you’ve been with him almost every night this week.”
“We’re just having fun. No labels or anything serious. He’s really good at making me forget how stressful everything is, you know?”
You bit your lip. You had seen the way Sunghoon looked at girls — including you. The way his eyes raked over your body when he thought no one was watching. Heeseung’s best friend or not, he didn’t give off boyfriend material vibes. More like heartbreaker who looks like a model.
“Mina… just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt. He flirts with everyone.”
She sighed dramatically. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up. Eat without me — or share with Heeseung if he’s around. He probably hasn’t eaten anything but energy drinks again.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Have fun.”
After hanging up, you stared at the two steaming bags. Jake and Jungwon weren’t coming over tonight — they were playing from home, apparently. That left only one person in the apartment.
Heeseung.
You told yourself it was just polite. You grabbed one of the takeout containers, a pair of chopsticks, and a bottle of water, then headed down the hallway toward his room.
His door was slightly ajar — unusual. Soft blue light spilled out along with the rapid clicking of a mechanical keyboard and his low, focused voice.
Heeseung was deep in his element. He leaned forward in his expensive gaming chair. Multiple monitors glowed in front of him — one showing the League game, another with chat scrolling fast, a third with stream stats. He looked completely in the zone, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
You hesitated at the door, suddenly feeling intrusive. But the food was getting cold.
You knocked lightly. “Heeseung?”
He didn’t hear you at first.
You stepped inside a little further. “Hey… I brought some takeout. Figured you might not have eaten—”
Heeseung startled, head snapping toward you. His eyes widened for a split second — surprise, then something softer — before his usual cocky mask slid back into place.
“Shit— wait, hold on guys,” he muttered into the mic. He quickly typed something, then turned fully toward you, one hand still on the mouse. “You’re in my room.”
You held up the container like a peace offering. “Mina’s out. I got extra. You’ve been in here all day, right? Just… eat something.”
For a moment he just stared at you, like he couldn’t quite process why you were being nice. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. “Trying to poison me or something?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, because I definitely went through all this trouble just to murder the guy letting me live here for cheap rent.”
He let out a short, surprised laugh — genuine, not the annoying smirk kind. It made your stomach do a stupid little flip.
He muted his mic properly this time. “Thanks. You can just leave it on the desk if you want.”
You walked closer and set the food down beside his keyboard. The room smelled like him — clean cologne mixed with the faint ozone of electronics. His setup was impressive: RGB lights, three large monitors, a professional mic, shelves of figures and keyboards.
As you turned to leave, Jake’s voice crackled through his headphones (he must have unmuted briefly).
“Yo Heeseung, you still there? What the hell, you went silent mid-fight.”
Heeseung’s eyes flicked back to the screen, then to you. Something shifted in his expression — “Uh… yeah, I’m here. Just… got distracted for a second.”
Jungwon chimed in, curious. “Distracted? By what?”
You were already at the door when Heeseung spoke again, voice deliberately light. “Hey. You don’t have to run off. Stay if you want. It’s just ranked with the guys. Not a big stream or anything.”
You paused, surprised. He never invited you into his space before.
Jake laughed over the call. “Wait, is someone in your room right now? Heeseung bringing girls over during stream? That's new.”
“Shut up,” Heeseung muttered, cheeks faintly pink under the blue light. He glanced at you again, almost nervous. “You can sit on the bed or whatever. No pressure.”
You shouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. But the way he looked at you made your stubborn side soften just a bit.
“Fine,” you said, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed. “But only because the food will get cold if I leave you alone with it.”
Heeseung gave you a small, almost shy smile before turning back to his monitors. He unmuted. “Sorry guys, You can continue.”
The game picked up again. You watched him play in silence for a while, impressed despite yourself. His hands moved with precision, calling shots calmly while his friends hyped him up. Every now and then he’d sneak a glance at you, checking if you were still there.
At one point, after a particularly good play, he leaned back and finally opened the takeout. He ate quickly, humming in appreciation.
“This is good,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
You stayed longer than you planned. The stream chat kept moving but Heeseung seemed more aware of your presence than the thousands watching him. Every time you laughed softly at something funny the guys said, his lips would curve up a little.
By the time they finished the match (another win for Heeseung, of course), the takeout was gone and the tension in the room felt thicker than before.
He took off his headset and turned his chair toward you.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “But… thanks.”
You shrugged, trying to ignore how warm his voice made you feel. “Don’t get used to it. I was just being nice.”
Heeseung leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart stutter.
“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower. "You’ve been just being nice to Jake a lot lately too.”
There it was. The possessiveness he tried to hide behind annoyance.
You stood up, suddenly needing distance. “And you’ve been annoying on purpose. We’re even.”
You headed for the door, but his next words stopped you.
“Stay a little longer?”
It was soft. Almost pleading.
You didn’t turn around. “Maybe next time. Goodnight, Heeseung.”
As you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, breathing a little faster than normal.
This was dangerous...
But as you walked back to your room, the memory of his shy smile...
Mina was going to get hurt by Sunghoon.
And you… you were starting to worry you might get burned by Heeseung too.
￣￣
Saturday night:
The living room was alive with laughter, the big TV glowing with the League client on screen, empty soju bottles and snack bags scattered across the coffee table. Mina had finally dragged you out of your room, insisting it was weekend and you both deserved to have fun after a brutal week.
The boys were already deep into it when you two arrived — Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung sprawled across the massive sectional. Heeseung, of course, in his signature black hoodie, hood half-up, silver hair messy as he fiddled with the controller settings.
“Finally!” Jake cheered when he saw you both. “The girls are here. Now we can make this interesting.”
Sunghoon’s eyes lit up as they landed on Mina. He patted the spot right beside him. “Come here, babe.”
Mina didn’t hesitate. She plopped down next to him, and within minutes they were whispering and laughing, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. You chose the other end of the couch, trying not to overthink how Sunghoon’s hand was already sliding down her back.
Heeseung’s gaze found you immediately. He didn’t say anything, but you felt it — that quiet, intense stare from across the room.
The games started light. Casual matches, silly bets. Whoever lost a round had to take a shot or do a dare. The energy was electric. You and Mina were laughing more than you had in weeks, the soju making everything funnier.
At one point, after Jake lost badly, Jungwon grinned mischievously. “Penalty: Jake has to let one of the girls sit on his lap for the next game.”
Jake’s eyes sparkled as he looked straight at you. “Well? Come on, beautiful. Don’t make me lose twice.”
You were tipsy enough to not care. With a shrug and a defiant glance toward Heeseung, you stood up and let Jake pull you onto his lap. His arms wrapped loosely around your waist, warm and playful.
“Much better,” Jake murmured against your ear, making you laugh.
Heeseung’s jaw clenched visibly. His fingers tightened around the controller in his hands — those long, veined, skilled fingers that flew across keyboards with such precision during streams. You had watched them for hours last night in his room. The way they moved… it was hypnotic. Your mind wandered dangerously — imagining those same fingers somewhere else. On your skin. Between your thighs. Pressing and teasing until—
You shook the thought away, cheeks heating.
The game continued. Mina and Sunghoon were getting bolder by the minute. Halfway through the next match, Mina was straddling Sunghoon on the couch, their mouths locked in a heated kiss. His hands roamed her back openly.
Jungwon whistled. “Get a room, you two!”
Jake laughed beneath you, his chest vibrating. “They’re not even trying to hide it anymore.”
Sunghoon pulled back just enough to smirk. “Jealous, Jungwon?”
You tried to focus on the screen, but your eyes kept drifting to Heeseung. He was pretending to watch the game, but his gaze kept flicking to you on Jake’s lap, dark and stormy. The cocky mask was slipping again, revealing something raw underneath.
Another round. Another loss for Jake.
“New bet,” Sunghoon announced, still holding Mina close. “Loser team has to do whatever the winner wants for the next ten minutes.”
The match was intense. Heeseung was carrying as usual, but Jake was distracted — his hands resting a little too comfortably on your thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles that sent warmth spreading through you. You didn’t stop him. Part of you wanted to see how far you could push Heeseung.
Heeseung won the game almost single-handedly.
As soon as the victory screen popped up, he set his controller down slowly. His voice was deceptively calm. “My win. Jake, get your hands off her.”
Jake chuckled, not moving. “It’s just a game, bro. Relax.”
Heeseung stood up. He crossed the room in a few strides and stopped right in front of you and Jake.
“Off,” he repeated, eyes locked on you. “Now.”
The air grew thick. Mina and Sunghoon had paused their makeout session to watch. Jungwon raised an eyebrow, amused.
You lifted your chin stubbornly. “It’s just a bet, Heeseung. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His eyes darkened.
You swallowed hard.
Jake finally lifted you gently and set you back on the couch, sensing the shift. “Alright, alright. Your win, captain.”
But Heeseung wasn’t done. He grabbed your wrist — not rough, but firm — and pulled you up. “Come with me.”
You could have resisted. You should have. Instead, you let him lead you down the hallway toward his room, heart hammering.
The moment the door closed behind you, Heeseung backed you against it. He just caged you in with his arms, staring down at you with that intense, conflicted look —
“You really enjoy driving me crazy, don’t you?” he whispered. His breath brushed your lips. “Sitting on his lap. Letting him touch you. While I’m right here.”
You tilted your head, stubborn even now. “Maybe I do. You’re always so cocky. Acting like you own everything — including me.”
Heeseung’s hand came up, hovering near your waist. Those long fingers you’d been fantasizing about brushed the hem of your top, not quite touching skin. “I don’t own you. But I want to. Badly.”
The confession hung heavy in the air.
You could hear the others laughing and playing in the living room.
Heeseung leaned in closer, lips inches from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
You didn’t say anything. Instead, you grabbed the front of his black hoodie and pulled him the rest of the way.
The kiss was intense — hungry. His hands finally touched you, sliding under your top, those skilled fingers tracing your skin, gripping your waist possessively. He kissed like he played — focused.
When he pulled back for air, his forehead rested against yours. His voice was rough. “I’ve been jerking off thinking about you every night since you moved in. Hiding it because I didn’t think you’d want a nerd who lives in his streaming room.”
Your breath hitched.
Heeseung’s hand slid higher, thumb brushing just under your breast. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”
From the living room, you heard Jungwon yell something teasing about Mina and Sunghoon again,followed by loud laughter.
Heeseung smirked against your lips — that annoying, sexy smirk. “They’re distracted. Stay here with me a little longer?”
His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns on your skin.
“Heeseung… we shouldn’t—”
“Shh.” His voice was low, rough. His fingers slid under your top, tracing your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast.
“Let me make you feel good, yeah?”
You knoded.
In one smooth motion, he turned you around and pressed you against the wall beside the door, your cheek against the cool surface. His chest molded to your back, hard and warm through his black hoodie. You could feel how hard he was, pressed against your ass.
“Quiet,” he whispered right against your ear, one hand covering your mouth gently while the other tugged your shorts and panties down in one go. “They’re right outside. Don’t let them hear how much you want this.”
You whimpered against his palm as his fingers — those skilled fingers — found you already soaked. He groaned softly.
“Fuck… you’re dripping for me.” Two fingers circled your clit slowly, teasing, then dipped inside, curling just right. “All this time acting like you don't like me, and you’re this wet?”
You moaned into his hand, hips pushing back against him. Heeseung kept the pace torturous — slow, deep strokes with his fingers. Every time you got close, he slowed down.
“Please…” you whispered when he finally uncovered your mouth.
“Please what?” He kissed the back of your neck, grinding his clothed cock against you. “Tell me you want me. Not Jake. Not anyone else. Just me.”
You bit your lip hard, stubborn even now. “I… I don’t—”
He pulled his fingers out completely. You whined at the loss.
Heeseung spun you around to face him, lifting one of your legs around his waist. He shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. His cock was thick, hard, the tip already leaking as he rubbed it against your slick folds.
“Say it,” he growled softly, eyes locked on yours. “Or I’ll stop right now.”
Your pride crumbled under the heat in his gaze. “I want you… only you, Heeseung.”
That was all he needed.
He pushed inside you in one deep thrust, stretching you open. Both of you moaned — his low and guttural, yours muffled against his shoulder. He was big, filling you completely, and the angle against the wall made everything feel deeper.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours.
He started moving — hard, controlled thrusts that pinned you to the wall. Each snap of his hips drove him deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you. His hand came back over your mouth as your moans grew louder.
“Quiet, baby,” he panted, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t want the boys hearing how pretty you sound when I fuck you.”
You nodded frantically, nails digging into his shoulders through his hoodie. Heeseung fucked you like he’d been holding back for months, deep and possessive, one hand on your hip to keep you in place while the other muffled your moans.
“Come for me,” he whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
The pleasure built fast and overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed over you hard, walls clenching around him. Heeseung followed right after, burying himself deep with a broken groan, filling you up as his hips stuttered.
For a moment, the only sound was both of you breathing heavily, bodies pressed together against the wall.
Heeseung slowly lowered your leg, but didn’t pull out yet. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly. The cocky mask was completely gone — just soft, affection in his eyes now.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he whispered, leaning in for a kiss. “I’ve been crazy about you since—”
The door suddenly opened.
“Hyung, did you see my— oh shit.”
Jungwon stood in the doorway, eyes wide. He froze for a second, taking in the scene — you pressed against the wall, Heeseung’s hoodie still on but sweatpants low on his hips, the obvious position.
Jungwon’s face turned bright red. “Oops… I didn’t see anything. Carry on.”
He quickly backed out and closed the door.
Heeseung dropped his head to your shoulder with a groan. “Fuck. I forgot to lock it.”
Your cheeks burned hotter than they ever had in your life. “Oh my god… he saw us. He literally saw—”
Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you tighter, one hand gently rubbing your back. He was still buried inside you, softening slowly, but he made no move to pull out yet. His black hoodie smelled like him — warm, slightly sweaty.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, voice soft and reassuring. “Jungwon’s not going to say anything. He’s probably more embarrassed than you are right now.”
You peeked up at him. “You forgot to lock the door.”
Heeseung let out a sheepish laugh and finally pulled out carefully, fixing his sweatpants before helping you pull your own clothes back up. “My bad. I was a little distracted.” He cupped your face, thumbs brushing your flushed cheeks. “But seriously, don’t worry. He’s my friend. He won’t make it weird.”
He kissed you gently this time — slow, sweet, nothing like the desperate way he’d fucked you against the wall minutes ago. Then he pulled you toward his bed, tugging you down with him. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, spooning you under his blanket, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered. “Just like this.”
You nodded, letting yourself relax into his warmth. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your stomach, occasionally dipping under your top to caress your skin. No more words were needed. The distant sound of the boys still playing in the living room faded into background noise as you both drifted off, tangled together.
The next day, the apartment was strangely quiet.
Mina had texted that she was staying over at a friend’s (code for Sunghoon’s place again). Only Heeseung remained, locked away in his streaming room since early afternoon.
You wandered around bored, cleaning a little, trying to study, but your mind kept drifting back to last night — his hands, his voice telling you to stay quiet, the way he felt inside you. After a few hours, the silence became unbearable.
You needed an excuse.
You knocked lightly on his door before pushing it open. Heeseung was deep in a stream focused on the game.
“Um… have you seen my earrings?” you asked, stepping inside. “I think I lost them yesterday. Maybe they fell off in here?”
Heeseung paused his movements for a second, glancing at you with a knowing little smirk. He clearly didn’t buy it for a second. “Earrings, huh?”
You nodded, trying to look innocent. “Yeah. They’re important.”
He chuckled softly, muting his mic for a moment. "But from what I remember, you weren't wearing earrings..." He let out another quiet laugh. "Miss me already?"
Your face heated instantly. "I— no, I just—"
"Come here," he said, patting his lap without hesitation. His eyes were soft but playful. “It’s a long ranked session, but I want you close.”
You hesitated only a second before walking over and settling on his lap, sideways so you could lean against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist immediately, holding you securely.
On the stream, Jake and Jungwon’s voices came through his headphones.
Jake: “Wait, is that— Heeseung, you have company again?”
Jungwon: “Hyung… after last night? Bold.”
Heeseung’s ears turned pink, but he kept his voice steady. “Focus on the game, guys.”
You shifted on his lap to get more comfortable. Heeseung’s grip tightened on your hip. “Don’t move too much,” he whispered against your ear, low enough for only you to hear.
The game continued. Heeseung was incredibly focused — calling shots, coordinating with his team. The feeling of him underneath you, warm and solid, made it impossible for you. After a few minutes, you started moving slowly grinding just enough to tease.
Heeseung’s breath hitched. His free hand squeezed your thigh warningly. “Baby…”
You leaned back against him, lips brushing his neck. “I want you now,” you whispered. “Please.”
He glanced at the screen — important team fight coming up. “This match is really important for the team. We can’t lose right now.”
You pouted, shifting again. He let out a quiet groan.
Then his voice dropped, dangerous and tempting. “I have an idea… but you have to be good. No moving yeah?”
You nodded eagerly.
Heeseung quickly muted his mic and turned on the “BRB” overlay. He pulled his sweatpants down just enough, then tugged your shorts and panties to the side. He guided you to sink down slowly onto his cock until he was fully seated inside you.
“Cockwarming,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “Just stay still while I finish this game. Then I’m all yours.”
You whimpered at the fullness, clenching around him involuntarily. Heeseung groaned softly, arms tightening around you. “Good girl. Just like that.”
For the first few minutes, you tried. You really did. But he was so deep, so warm, and every tiny shift made pleasure spark through you. Heeseung stayed focused on the game, talking strategy with Jake and Jungwon, completely ignoring the way you were struggling.
But you really wanted his attention so you started moving.
Slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. Clenching around him rhythmically.
Jake laughed. “Hyung, you good? You sound distracted again.”
Heeseung’s hand slipped under your top, pinching your nipple in warning, but it only made you move more. You rocked slowly, taking him deeper, biting your lip to stay quiet.
His breathing grew ragged. The game on screen started suffering — a missed skill shot, a bad positioning.
“Baby… I told you not to move,” he growled quietly, muting the mic again for a second. His hips bucked up once, involuntarily, driving himself deeper.
You smiled innocently against his neck. “You’re ignoring me. I just want attention.”
Heeseung cursed under his breath. His team was losing the fight because of his distraction.
On the stream chat, messages were flying:
“Is Heeseung okay today?”
“Bro is glitching hard lol”
With a low, frustrated groan, Heeseung suddenly pushed his chair back, still buried deep inside you. He wrapped both arms around your waist and stood up, carrying you with him as he leaned over the desk to quickly type-
“AFK sorry guys” before ending the stream.
“You win,” he said, voice dark and full of promise as he carried you toward the bed.
life in the 2000s means flip phones, low rise jeans, a chaotic friendgroup, and a cocky skater boyfriend who climbs your window when he needs to apologize.
pairing: bf!riki x fem!reader ⭑ ft. friendgroup Enhypen
🗯️ vaeh’s notes: the fic is finally here! you already KNOW i had to be cliche and make him climb through your window muhahah. I also wasn’t sure whether this was the right time to post this with everything going on atm, still posted it, hoping it helps cheer you guys up a little! Take care xx #enhypenis7
⊹
There were seven of them.
Seven loud, annoying ass, inseparable boys who took up too much space at every party, every hallway, and every parking lot. They were always together, skateboards under their arms, half-finished coca-cola cans in their hands, laughter echoing too loudly through college apartments that definitely couldn’t fit all of them.
You really weren’t supposed to be part of them. Even thought they we’re weird at first.
The first time they saw you, you were standing alone at some shady off-campus house party.
You were leaning against the kitchen counter in low rise jeans and a baby tee, flipping your pink bedazzled Motorola shut and open again because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.
It was Sunghoon who noticed first. “Why is she by herself? She looks nice.” And then all seven of them ended up standing in front of you like a mildly intimidating boyband.
You don’t remember how, but that night you were adopted into their friendgroup.
You’d been with them ever since.
Especially Riki.
—
You and Riki were never stable.
You were either disgustingly in love or dramatically broken up. There was no in-between.
You’d ‘break up’ over anything:
Because he didn’t call you back fast enough. You helped another guy with his homework. He didn’t let you borrow his clothes. You told him smoking was unattractive.
And once because spilled an entire cup of Sprite on your Juicy Couture bag, which you spent your entire salary on.
You cried like a baby. He’d rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just a bag. Get a new one.”
You didn’t speak to him for a week.
The friend group suffered… Riki got quieter. You got meaner. The air felt heavy every time you were in the same room.
Until Jungwon snapped.
“I can’t do this,” he’d said, rubbing his temples. “You two are exhausting. Apologize. Now.”
You tried to act careless but you both folded in under five minutes and ended up in your bedroom.
—
You hated being called popular, but you weren’t invisible.
People knew you.
You had that early-2000s glow. Glossy lips, hoop earrings, low-rise everything. Professors remembered your name. Girls whispered about you. Boys stared a little too long.
Riki? He had baggy jeans sagged so low you could always see which brand of underwear he was wearing, Calvin Klein most days, sometimes something knockoff that you’d tease him about constantly.
“Pull them up,” you’d hiss in the middle of the mall, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking it higher. “You’re embarrassing me.”
He’d just grin, completely unbothered.
“Why? You don’t like my boxers?”
“I don’t like that everyone else can see them.”
He’d lean closer, smoke still lingering faintly on his breath. “I don’t care.”
And then he’d glance down at your hips.
Low rise jeans. A tiny strip of pink lace peeking out when you moved. Belly piercing glinting under the mall lights.
“Oh,” he’d mock, tugging lightly at the strip of your thong on your hip, making it snap back. “And that’s modest?”
You’d swat his hand away. “That’s fashion.”
“Mine is too.”
“You look homeless.”
“You look like a hooker.”
“I do not. You asshole.”
You’d both be smiling by the end of it.
—
It’s one of those perfect late mid-August afternoons.
The sun is low and orange. Everything smells like hot pavement, sunscreen, and cigarettes. The entire city feels outside, kids with scraped knees, girls in denim skirts, boys shirtless with skateboards tucked under their arms.
The skatepark is loud.
Wheels scraping. Laughter echoing. Music playing from someone’s brand new portable speaker.
The whole friend group is there and Riki insisted you’d come too.
His white tank top clinging slightly to his back from sweat. Wired headphones dangling out of the pocket from his jeans. A cigarette tucked behind his ear, which you hate.
Heeseung is beside him, attempting something reckless off a skating ramp.
They take turns.
They hype each other up.
They shove each other when one of them almost eats concrete.
You’re sitting on top of the half-pipe, legs dangling over the edge, flip-flops hanging loosely off your toes. The smallest top imaginable clings to your torso more lace than fabric, blue jeans sit dangerously on your hips, held in place by a big bedazzled belt.
Riki had absolutely hated the top.
“That’s not a shirt,” he said earlier.
“It is.”
“It looks like a bra.”
“It’s hot outside.”
“It’s hot for me too.”
“Then take your shirt off.”
He gave you a glare, you walked ahead anyway.
Now you’re bored.
Bored and slightly irritate because you’ve already watched him light up two cigarettes.
Two.
And you hate when he smokes. Hate the smell. Hate the way it makes his voice raspier. Hate how casual he is about it.
And he knows that, but he does it anyway. Which makes it worse.
He skates toward you suddenly, rolling to a stop between your knees. One hand presses to the ramp beside your thigh, the other still holding his board.
“You look grumpy,” he says, squinting up at you against the sun.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway.
Then he pushes off again before you can respond.
You sigh.
You’re melting. You’re bored. And you’re watching your boyfriend risk concussions for fun.
Amazing.
Then Heeseung has an even more amazing idea.
“Teach her something,” he says, nodding toward you.
Riki looks up immediately.
You narrow your eyes.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He’s already skating toward you again.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. “It’s easy.”
“It’s not easy.”
“It is.”
“I’m wearing slippers.”
“Then take them off.”
You gasp like he’s insane.
He grins.
“Baby, I’ll hold you.”
Everyone’s watching now.
Jay whistles from somewhere near the fence. Sunghoon pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Sunoo is already smiling like something crazy embarrassing is about to happen.
“If I fall and ruin my outfit,” you warn, pointing a manicured finger at him, “I’ll kill you.”
He laughs. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
You step onto the skateboard and it wobbles instantly.
You grab his hands.
“Why is it moving?”
“Because it has wheels.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
He positions himself in front of you, holding both your hands firmly.
“Okay,” he says, focused now. “Just bend your knees a little. Then pop the tail and slide your foot up.”
“Pop what?”
“The back.”
“I don’t know what that means Riki.”
He laughs softly.
“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”
You glare. “You better.”
He counts you down.
“One. Two—”
You jump.
The board flips sideways instead of up.
Your foot lands wrong.
His grip slips and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the concrete with a very embarrassing thud.
There’s a split second of silence, then there’s Laughter.
Sunoo’s laugh is the worst. High and dramatic and absolutely unnecessary.
You sit up slowly, hair in your face, pride completely shattered.
Riki is crouching immediately. “Are you okay?”
You stare at him.
“Did you catch me?”
“I tried—”
“You did not.”
He bites back a smile.
You gasp.
“Don’t you dare laugh.”
He fails. Just a little chuckle, but that’s it for you.
You stand up, brushing off your jeans dramatically.
“I’m done.”
“Baby—”
“No.”
You grab your slippers and stomp back toward the half-pipe.
Sunoo is still giggling when you sit down beside him.
“I’d like to see you try next time,” you snap.
Sunoo chuckles. “I would never fall like that.”
“You absolutely would.”
“I have natural balance.”
“You have natural dramatics.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”
You both dissolve into a stupid little argument about who would survive longer on a skateboard.
It almost distracts you from Riki.
Almost.
Until you glance over and see some random guy offering Riki a joint.
And Riki… takes it?
Your stomach drops.
He laughs at something the stranger says. Throws his head back slightly. That boxy grin that made you like him in the first place.
Your jaw tightens.
Sunoo is still talking beside you.
“…and then I’d definitely land it because— helloo? Are you even listening?”
You aren’t. Your eyes are locked on Riki.
Then a girl loses control of her board and swerves straight into him.
She stumbles forward and Riki catches her.
One hand at her waist on instinct.
You feel it before you even think, that little sting in your chest.
He lets her go immediately.
“You good?” he asks casually.
She laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”
She lingers half a second too long.
That’s it. That’s your last straw. You’re already on your feet. Sunoo reaches for your wrist. “Wait—”
Too late. You walk fast, hips swaying, chin lifted, eyes low and dangerous.
Riki doesn’t even notice until you’re right in front of him.
You grab his arm and tug him away from the small group of strangers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He blinks. “What?”
“I said what do you think you’re doing.” you repeat, quieter but sharper.
He genuinely looks confused. “Nothing?”
You look at the joint still between his fingers.
Without breaking eye contact, you reach up, snatch it from him, drop it to the ground and grind it into the concrete with your heel.
“Are you serious right now?” he mutters.
“Oh, I’m serious.” you snap.
He runs a hand through his hair. “What is your problem?”
“My problem?” Your voice rises. “You’ve smoked, like, five cigarettes today. And now this? Oh and you’re just touching girls?”
His head jerks back. “Touching girls?”
“You literally had your hands all over her waist.”
“She ran into me.”
“And you had to grab her like that?”
“She was falling.”
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
“Keep it down,” he says under his breath. “Not everyone needs to know you’re mad at me again.”
That does it.
“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?!” you fire back. “You weren’t embarrassed five seconds ago.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making a scene.”
“You’re smoking in front of me after I told you I hate it.”
He exhales hard. “It’s my choice.”
“Oh my God.”
“It’s called free will,” he adds, clearly irritated now.
You stare at him.
“Right,” you say flatly. “So you just do whatever you want.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were all up on her.”
“She bumped into me.”
“You didn’t have to hold her like that.”
He scoffs. “Like what?”
“Like—” You stop yourself before you say something dramatic.
He shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”
You feel your chest tighten.
“Am I?” you ask quietly.
“Yes.”
Silence hangs between you. Then he makes the mistake.
He gestures vaguely at you.
“And don’t act like you’re not out here in that top all day.”
Your eyes widen.
“What about my top?”
“It’s too revealing.”
You laugh once. Sharp. Disbelieving.
“So now this is my fault?”
“I’m just saying—”
“You’re just saying what?” you cut him off. “That I deserve it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But you thought it.”
He looks frustrated now. “You can’t tell me what I thought.”
“You can’t tell me I’m overreacting.”
“You are tho.”
Your face goes cold.
“Okay.”
You step back.
“Okay,” you repeat.
He frowns slightly. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
He grabs your wrist once.
“Don’t leave.”
“Whatever.” You say and you turn and walk away.
You expect footsteps. You expect him to call your name. You expect him to follow you like he always does.
You walk past the fence, the group of boys, past Sunoo’s wide eyes. And still nothing.
You finally glance back and your stomach drops.
He’s back on his board like nothing happened.
Like he isn’t supposed to chase you.
And that hurts more than the cigarette, more than the girl, more than the argument. Because in your head, he’s supposed to follow you and beg you to stay. But instead he just skates.’
—
By nine o’clock it’s almost completely dark, the last bit of orange fading out of the sky. Your room is lit by the glow of your TV, candles and the small lamp on your nightstand. You’re curled up in bed in soft pajamas, a plate of brownies balanced on your stomach while Clueless plays for what might be the hundredth time.
Your flip phone has been buzzing the last half hour.
Four missed calls.
Ten texts.
You’ve read none of them, you refuse to.
Then you hear A small tick against your window.
You pause mid-chew.
Another one.
And then a third.
You sit up slowly, pushing the plate aside and sliding out of bed. The floor is cool under your feet as you walk toward the window and pull the blinds apart.
Riki is standing in the street below, hands filled with tiny rocks to throw, looking up at your room like he’s been waiting for you to appear. When he sees your face, he waves casually, like this is completely normal behavior.
You stare at him for two seconds.
Then you shut the blinds and walk straight back to your bed.
Your phone buzzes again immediately.
You don’t check it.
A few seconds pass.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
You exhale sharply and shuffle back to the window, throwing the blinds open this time and sliding the window up.
“What?” you hiss down at him.
“You need to let me in,” he says like it’s obvious.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But I want to talk to you.”
“Too bad.”
He steps closer to the house, lowering his voice even though no one is outside. “Please, baby. I wanna make it up to you.”
You cross your arms against the windowsill. “Make what up? You didn’t do anything, remember?”
“Come on,” he tries again. “Are you really gonna let me stand out here looking like a fool?”
“Yes,” you say immediately.
He stares up at you, half offended, half impressed.
You hold his gaze for another second, then slide the window shut and drop the blinds again before he can argue. You get back into bed, pull the covers up, grab your brownie plate, and press play like nothing happened.
For a few minutes, it’s quiet.
Then you hear something strange. Not rocks this time, but a scraping sound. A shuffle. Something brushing against the side of the house.
You freeze.
The sound gets closer.
Your heart jumps as you sit up again just in time to see two hands grab onto your windowsill from the outside.
And then Riki’s stupid face appears.
You let out a sharp gasp and scramble out of bed as he hoists himself up, creased sneakers braced against the brick. He looks mildly proud of himself, slightly out of breath, hair falling into his eyes.
You slide the window open with a dramatic sigh.
“Seriously, Riki?”
He doesn’t answer. He just swings one leg over the sill and climbs into your room like he’s done it a hundred times before, landing lightly on your floor.
“You’re insane,” you whisper-yell, shoving the window shut behind him. “My dad is literally going to kill the both of us if he finds out you climbed through my window.”
“He won’t,” Riki says easily.
“And you smell like smoke,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “If he comes in here—”
“He won’t,” he repeats, completely unbothered.
You stand there with your arms crossed, trying to stay angry while he casually looks around your room like he’s on a tour.
He glances at you slowly, eyes dragging from your messy hair to your pajama shorts. A lazy grin spreads across his face.
“Those make your ass look good.”
Your mouth drops open. “That’s what you have to say right now?”
“I’m just being honest.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable.”
He walks past you toward your bed, picking up one of your pillows and tossing it aside before noticing the plate of brownies. Without asking, he takes one and bites into it.
“You made these yourself?” he asks through a mouthful.
“Yes.”
“They’re good.”
“They’re mine.”
He shrugs and flops down onto your bed like he belongs there, one arm behind his head, chewing lazily while Clueless continues playing in the background.
Your eye twitches.
“I’m still mad at you, Riki” you remind him.
“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”
You stay standing by the window like you’re guarding it, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Riki, meanwhile, looks entirely too comfortable sprawled across your bed, one hand behind his head, the other reaching lazily for another brownie.
He watches you for a moment, amused.
“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He snorts softly. “Come sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
“You weren’t nervous climbing up my house like a creep.”
He pats the mattress beside him anyway. “Baby.”
You hesitate, but you do it. Of course you do. You walk over and sit cross-legged on your bed, leaving a noticeable gap between you. You grab a pink heart-shaped pillow and hold it against your chest like armor, arms wrapped around it as a clear barrier.
Riki doesn’t look intimidated.
He slowly looks you up and down instead, gaze dragging over your shorts, your bare legs, your messy hair. He takes another bite of brownie, chews thoughtfully, then winks at you.
“Can I get a kiss?”
Your jaw drops.
“You’re unbelievable.”
You lean forward and snatch the plate of brownies out of his hands before he can grab another one. “Start talking,” you demand. “Or I swear I’m throwing you back out that window.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not strong enough for that.”
“I’ll get my dad to do it.”
He actually laughs at that, like the idea is ridiculous.
You glare harder.
He sighs dramatically and sits up, closing the space between you. The mattress dips as he moves closer.
He reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is warm and familiar, annoyingly gentle.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
You narrow your eyes. “For what?”
He pauses half a second too long.
“For… making you mad.”
That’s it.
That’s the apology.
He doesn’t even fully know what he’s apologizing for, the smoking, the girl, the comment about your top, he just knows you’re upset and that saying sorry usually fixes it.
You try to hold your glare, but your grip on the pillow loosens.
This is how it always goes. One of you gets mad. The other gives a weak apology. And somehow it’s enough.
He watches your expression soften, just slightly, and that tiny shift is all he needs.
“Come here,” he says quietly, patting his lap.
You roll your eyes like you’re still annoyed, but you put the pillow aside and shift forward, settling onto his lap anyway. His hands come to your waist automatically.
He leans in and kisses you.
It starts slow, almost careful, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling lightly into his black hair. For a few seconds, everything feels lke the argument never happened.
Then you wrinkle your nose and pull back slightly.
“Take your jacket off.”
He blinks. “What?”
“It smells like smoke.”
He smirks immediately. “If you wanted to undress me you could just say that.”
You don’t even entertain it. You grab his shirt and kiss him again just to shut him up.
He laughs against your mouth, hands tightening at your waist, and for now, at least, the fight is over.
Until he chuckles, he pulls back just slightly, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he talks.
“You know,” he mumbles, half smiling, “Sunoo told me to apologize.”
You don’t really listen, just give him another peck on his lips. “Hm?”
He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you again like it doesn’t matter. “He said I should just say sorry and you’d stop being mad.”
Your lips press together instead of moving with his.
“And?” you ask slowly.
“And it worked,” he says lightly. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
You freeze.
He tries to kiss you again, but you pull your head back this time.
“Are you kidding me right now?,” you say.
He frowns, confused at the sudden shift. “What?”
“You don’t know what you did wrong?”
He laughs a little, like this is harmless. “You were just in a mood.”
You slap his arm.
Not hard. But sharp enough.
“Ow— what was that for?”
You’re already climbing off his lap. “I actually can’t stand you.”
“What?” he repeats, genuinely lost.
“You didn’t apologize because you meant it,” you snap. “You just didn’t want me to be mad.”
“That’s the same thing y/n.”
“It’s not the same thing!”
He sits there, staring at you like you’ve switched languages mid-conversation.
You grab his arm and yank him off the bed. “Come here.”
“Why are you dragging me?”
“Because you’re leaving.”
He stumbles after you as you pull him toward the window again. “I just said sorry!”
“No, you didn’t!” you fire back, pushing the window open. “You said sorry because Sunoo told you to and because you wanted me to shut up.”
“That’s not—”
“That is exactly what it was.”
He steps closer, trying to catch your wrist, trying to pull you back in like he did before. “You’re overthinking it.”
You shove his chest lightly. “Go.”
“Can you calm down for two seconds?”
“No.”
He leans in again like kissing you will solve it, like it always does. You put your hand flat against his chest and push him back.
“Get out.”
“Baby—”
“Go!”
He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated now. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”
“And you’re not making it a deal at all!” you shoot back. “Come back when you can take accountability!”
You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care if a porch light flicks on somewhere down the street. You’re too irritated to think about neighbors.
He glares at you for a second longer before finally swinging one leg over the sill again.
“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he climbs out.
“You’re stupid!” you yell back.
“You love me though.”
“Bye Riki!”
He drops down to the ground below with a dull thud and looks back up at you. “Throw my jacket!”
You grab it off your floor and hesitate for a second.
“It smells like smoke! Wash it out!” you shout.
“Just throw it y/n, Jeez!”
You toss it out the window a little harder than necessary. It hits him in the face before falling to his arms.
“And pull your up your goddamn pants, you loser!” you yell one last time before slamming the window shut.
He stands there for a second in the dim streetlight, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell.”
He pulls up his pants anyway, then he turns and starts walking.
Riki walks home with his jacket slung over his shoulder. His jaw is tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks at small rocks along the sidewalk. He replays the entire thing in his head.
He apologized.
Didn’t he?
He showed up. Climbed yout house. Said sorry. What else was he supposed to do?
He mutters under his breath, calling the whole situation dumb, ridiculous. Calling you dramatic.
You just crawl back into bed and press play on your movie again, rather relieved than angry.
Cher’s voice fills the room.
You reach for a brownie.
Your fingers hit an empty plate.
You stare at it.
“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.
—
The next day feels like nothing happened, it’s a Saturday and you’re at the mall with your friends, like usual
The mall in the center of the city is loud. Every store window is screaming SALE in red letters. Somewhere above them, a movie trailer echoes from the cinema entrance. The air smells like hotdogs, sugar, perfume samples, and fryer oil all blending into one.
Every time you guys go there to “just walk around”, someone somehow leaves with an empty wallet.
The vibe between you and Riki, though? Ice cold.
You walk slightly ahead when he’s near. Conversations split awkwardly around you two. You guys barely acknowledge each others presence. Everyone notices. No one says it yet.
You split up near the giant directory map in the middle of the mall.
Heeseung, Sunoo and you walk towards the arcade, immediately distracted by blinking machines and the sound of digital coins clinking. Jungwon and Jay walk off with one mission only, to eat every free sample the mall has to offer.
Jake, Riki and Sunghoon head towards the skate shop onsecond floor.
“Bro, I’m telling you, softer wheels are better for street,” Jake insists.
“Yeah, if you like going slow,” Sunghoon shoots back.
Riki barely speaks. He flips a board over, studies it, doesn’t see it.
He sees you in his head instead, standing at your window, yelling at him to come back when he can take accountability.
They check every board. Compare prices. Debate colors. In the end, none of them buy anything.
When they walk out into the mall hallway again, the crown hits them full force. Sunghoon stretches his arms above his head.
“So,” Jay says casually. “You and her gonna keep pretending you don’t know each other?”
Riki clicks his tongue immediately. “She’s mad at me.”
“Yes,” Riki insists. “I climbed her window. I could’ve fallen and died bro. I said sorry.”
Jake squints at him. “For what?”
Riki opens his mouth.
Closes it.
“…For making her mad?”
Sunghoon actually laughs. “That’s not an apology, idiot.”
Riki runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She was yelling about the joint, and the cigs, and that girl at the skate park. But I didn’t even do anything with that girl. I just caught her because she bumped into me.”
Jake raises a brow. “By her waist?”
Riki hesitates. “…On instinct.”
“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “And then?”
“And then she dragged me to the window and kicked me out ‘cause I said Sunoo told me to apologize,” Riki mutters.
Both boys stare at him.
“You told her…” Jake says slowly, “that someone else told you to apologize.”
“I was joking. “And at least I apologized? I don’t see the problem.”
Jake lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how you ever got her to like you, man.”
Riki scowls. “I literally climbed into her room. What more does she want?”
Jake grins. “Maybe don’t touch random girls in front of her.”
“She ran into me.”
“And you caught her,” Sunghoon says dryly. “You couldn’t even catch your own girl when she fell.”
Riki groans. “It’s not like that.”
Jake smirks. “Then go tell her that.”
“She’ll just get mad again.”
Sunghoon shrugs. “Get better at apologizing.”
Meanwhile the boys are discussing how to apologize to girlfriends, you’re at the arcade, trying to win a stuffed animal.
The arcade is chaos, neon lights flickering, pixelated sound effects, the constant clink-clink of coins dropping somewhere. A racing game to your left, a dance machine behind you, and right in front of you—
The claw machine.
Inside it sits the biggest stuffed cat you’ve ever seen. Grey and white, oversized head, cute smile. It’s ridiculous. You want it immediately.
You shove another coin in.
Heeseung leans casually against the machine beside you. “You’ve been trying for like ten minutes.”
“I almost had it,” you mumble, eyes locked on the claw.
Sunoo crouches dramatically beside the glass. “Manifest it. Tell it you love it.”
“I do love it,” you whisper.
The claw drops.
Grabs the cat.
Lifts it.
For one beautiful second it hangs there.
“YES!”
Then slips.
The cat falls back into the pile.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you curse under your breath, stepping back in disbelief.
Heeseung laughs softly. “Y/n, did something happen between you and Riki?”
You don’t even look at him. “He was being a dick.”
Sunoo nods immediately. “Newsflash.”
Heeseung hums in agreement. “Fair.”
No further questions.
You shove another coin in aggressively. The claw misses completely this time and you kick the machine.
Heeseung gently nudges you aside. “Let me.”
You cross your arms, pretending you don’t care. “You’re gonna lose.”
The claw lowers.
It grips the stuffed cat around its head.
Lifts it.
Carries it over to the hole.
Drops.
The cat tumbles into the prize slot.
You and Sunoo scream like he just won an Olympic medal.
“NO WAY—” you laugh. It’s bigger than you expected, soft and and perfect.
Heeseung smiles, brushing his hands off. “All skill.”
He takes the cat from the slot and hands it to you with a small grin. “For your suffering.”
You hug it immediately. “You’re my favorite person.”
He just laughs.
ou three walk out of the arcade a few minutes later, the mall lights feeling calmer after all the flashing machines. You hold the stuffed cat in your arms like it’s something precious, its giant head resting against your shoulder.
Riki notices you.
From halfway down the hall, he spots you walking toward them, oversized plush cat in your arms, laughing at something Sunoo just said.
And unfortunately for his pride, you look cute. And pretty. And happy.
It does something uncomfortable to his chest.
The groups meet in the middle of the walkway.
Sunghoon claps his hands once. “We’re gonna go find Jungwon and Jay before they eat themselves sick.”
“Too late,” Heeseung says dryly.
They all start walking, Sunghoon and Jake up front debating something again, Sunoo walking slightly behind them.
Heeseung slows just enough to walk beside Riki for half a second.
He gives him a small nod toward you.
Go.
Riki exhales through his nose.
Fine.
He steps up, walking beside you.
You don’t look at him.
He notices that immediately.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual. “Where’d you get that?”
Your eyes stay forward. “Arcade.”
“Obviously.”
“Heeseung won it for me.”
There’s something about the way you say it, so simple, that hits him wrong.
He glances at the stuffed cat.
Heeseung won it… not him.
“Oh,” Riki mutters. “Cool.”
You finally lift it slightly, showing him the cat’s stupid stitched smile. “It’s my new boyfriend.” You say it teasingly.
But Riki doesn’t smile.
Something annoyed flickers across his face before he masks it.
“Yeah?” he says, voice calm but a little tight. “He looks like he’d treat you better.”
You glance at him briefly, catching that tone.
“It doesn’t climb through windows uninvited,” you reply.
He huffs softly. “Yeah. It also doesn’t have legs.”
You shrug. “Less likely to run around with random girls then.”
He goes quiet for half a second.
Then he nudges the cat’s head lightly with his fingers. “He looks dumb.”
Your eyes narrow. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
“You really replacing me with a stuffed animal?”
You keep walking straight ahead.
“Depends. Can he apologize properly?” You say, then you step up your pace to nonchalantly walk away from Riki.
You eventually find Jungwon and Jay exactly where everyone expected them to be, around a food stand with tiny paper cups in their hands.
Jay is mid-sentence when the group walks up. “I’m telling you, if you circle back in ten minutes they forget your face.”
Jake nods seriously, holding up another sample. “This one’s teriyaki chicken. Third time.”
Heeseung sighs like a tired parent.
“Are we leaving?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon says.
Everyone slowly makes their way toward the mall exit.
Riki walks quietly behind everyone.
You do too.
By the time the glass doors slide open, the air outside is thick and warm, with the hum of traffic and laughs from somewhere down the street.
Sunghoon and Jake walk ahead, arguing about the best type of flipphone. Jay tries to convince Jungwon to stop at a convenience store on the way. Sunoo keeps poking Heeseung about the stuffed cat like it’s some kind of trophy.
You and Riki walk a few steps behind them again.
For a minute, neither of you says anything.
Your arms are wrapped around the giant plush cat, its soft head resting against your shoulder. Riki glances at it once, then looks ahead at the group, then down at the pavement like he’s building up the courage to say something.
Finally, he exhales and speaks.
“Y/n...”
You glance at him.
“I was being an asshole yesterday.”
You blink slightly.
He keeps walking beside you, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the ground instead of on you.
“And… I’m sorry,” he adds. “For the cigarettes. And the joint. And that girl at the skatepark.”
You don’t interrupt.
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“And I’m sorry for not knowing how to say sorry,” he admits. “I know I kinda… suck at that.”
For a moment you just look at him.
Then a small giggle slips out before you can stop it.
He looks over immediately. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, smiling a little. “I just like hearing you apologise”.
He shakes his head with a quiet laugh.
“I maybe shouldn’t have kicked you out the window.” You say hesitantly.
He snorts. “Maybe?”
“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that.”
He slides his hand out of his pocket and slowly, almost carefully, he lets it brush against yours. When you don’t pull away, his fingers curl around your hand.
The group ahead of you turns a corner toward the quieter streets leading back to your neighborhood.
You glance at Riki. “Do you wanna come to my house?”
His eyebrows lift. “You gonna let me in trough the door this time?”
You roll your eyes. “If you behave.”
“I always behave, baby.”
You scoff softly. “Mhm… just pull your pants up before my parents see you.”
⊹
extra note: I rlly hate the ending, I had writers block…
me when im on "x reader tag" looking for fics at 3 am BUT all i find is memes and all the funny posts under the world EXCEPT the fics abt the character :
synopsis. jake is hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with his girlfriend. coming home after a long day of practice to find you asleep waiting for him only makes him realize one thing: he’ll never get tired of being loved by you—and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you right back.
pairings. downbad!bf!jake x gf!reader
cw. tooth rotting fluff, jake is extremely downbad and head over heels inlove with reader like stupidly ^_^
✿𓈒ॱ⬭ᩙ malia’s note. I miss my future bf. n I wish it was downbad obsessed jake. :/
YOUR sweet boyfriend jake had come to three conclusions after dating you for almost two years. the first was that he loved you. the second was that he loved you very much. and the third was that perhaps loving you had made him a little stupid.
he doesn’t think it’s his fault, really.
how was he supposed to act normal when his girlfriend existed?
he couldn’t.
it was scientifically impossible to him.
his best friend, sunghoon, had once told him that the way he talked about you was concerning. even more, it got to a point that riki once threatened to throw jake's phone into the han river if he saw another picture of you as his lockscreen.
which was unfair, because riki simply didn’t understand art when he saw it.
everyone was simply jealous that he had the prettiest girlfriend in the world.
you were currently occupying every single wallpaper on his phone. his notes app was filled with things you liked that you’d casually mentioned six months ago: he was simply a man in love.
a very, very in love man.
but the thing about jake was that he never realized he was being sweet.
remembering how you take your coffee wasn’t sweet, it was common sense. carrying hair ties in his bag because you always lose yours wasn’t sweet either.
that’s just what boyfriends do, don’t they?
at least, that’s what he’d always say whenever you’d point it out.
today wasn’t much different.
practice had ended much later than expected and although jake had told you repeatedly not to wait for him, he should’ve known better than to think you’d actually listen.
you’d sent him a text three hours ago saying:
i’ll wait for my handsome boyfriend!!
i stole your hoodie btw.
ok i miss you :(
his favorite notifications were always the ones from you. unlocking the door to his apartment quietly, jake smiled softly at the sight before him.
there you were, curled up comfortably on the couch wearing his hoodie that looked far too big on you. your laptop remained abandoned beside you alongside a half-finished assignment and two empty snack wrappers.
you’d fallen asleep waiting for him. his expression softened almost immediately.
god.
you were so pretty.
he wondered if people would judge him if he cried at the sheer sight of his adorable girlfriend sleeping on his couch.
probably. he didn't care at all though.
placing his bag down quietly beside the door, he crouched down beside the couch to move a strand of hair away from your face. you’d waited all this time just to see him.
that thought alone made his heart feel impossibly warm. sometimes, jake wonders what he ever did to deserve loving someone as wonderful as you.
and perhaps more importantly, what he’d done to deserve being loved by you too.
you shifted slightly in your sleep, reaching instinctively for his hand the moment your fingers brushed against his.
“…jake?” you whispered sleepily, eyes barely opening.
“go back to sleep, pretty girl.”
“you’re home.”
he laughed quietly at the smile immediately appearing on your face despite being half asleep.
“i am.”
“I missed you.” you let out quietly.
three simple words.
three words that somehow still managed to make his heart skip a beat after all this time.
“i missed you more, pretty.”
“that’s impossible.”
“is it?” he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’ve been missing you since breakfast.” jake chuckled, his hand meeting your face as he cupped your cheek. you giggled sleepily at his response.
you laughed quietly as he sat down beside you, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist while you buried your head against his shoulder.
it was moments like these that made him realize he’d choose this life over and over again if he could.
he took a second to just look at your face, how could anyone be this beautiful? he thought to himself, "my beautiful girl..." he muttered under his breath, his thumb gently stroking your face.
coming home to you. holding you after long days. watching you fall asleep in his arms while rambling about your day.
“did you eat?” you suddenly asked, looking up at him worriedly despite being half asleep yourself.
“i did.”
“really?”
“you know... 'cuz half a sandwich counts, right?”
you sat up immediately.
“SIM JAKE.”
“MY BABY I’M SORRY.”
he smiled helplessly as you began lecturing him about proper eating habits for what was probably the hundredth time this month. he wasn’t listening particularly well, admittedly.
mostly because he was busy thinking about how pretty you looked when you cared about him.
perhaps he was concerning. because if loving you this much was concerning, then he had absolutely no intentions of getting better.
after all, you were his favorite person in the world. and jake thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.
every single day.
thank you for reading cutie. 🧁I want a bf like this ts aint fair jake pls come into my life bai :/
IN WHICH... you're practicing your terrible pool skills in a bar when a blonde guy wearing an intimidating amount of black starts giving you a few tips. Then he invites you to come back for another lesson—a private one—where you find out two things: one, he's actually the owner, and two, his idea of a good lesson is a little different from yours...
WC: 5.7k
Content/Warnings: MDNI, Strip Pool, Strangers to Lovers, Power Imbalance (owner jay and customer reader), Alcohol Use, Cursing, Smut, Dom Jay (but like he's sweet b/c I can't write degradation), Fingering, Oral (receiving), Unprotected Sex, Creampie
Ari's Note: Requested by @justmaireadz!! Thanks for giving me an excuse to write pool Jay 🫠 I ended up making it way longer than planned because I liked the idea so much, sorry! (or not sorry...?) Also blonde jay because I am a blonde jay connoisseur and miss it so bad.
You cursed as the white cue ball passed the green six perched in front of the corner pocket, hit the side, and rolled across the table—the exact opposite way you meant for it to go. The white lettering of the six pointed towards you undisturbed, like it was mocking you. It should have been the easiest shot of all time, and here you were missing it like it was your first time holding a pool cue (it was; you just didn’t want to admit it).
You leaned against the dark green table, staring glumly at your friend across the room who had ditched you to talk to some guy twenty minutes ago, promising she was “just getting his number.” You watched your friend laugh loudly, placing her hand on his shoulder, her red lipstick bright in the dim bar light.
Yeah, she wasn’t coming back any time soon.
The cue was smooth and hard between your fingers as you lifted it back into position, and you bent low as you aimed at the cue ball, trying for the same green six.
Deep breath, two. Pull back, aim. Shoot.
This one was closer. It actually hit the six, but instead of hitting it in—somehow—it knocked it to the side, causing it to spin loosely along the table until it came to a slow stop.
You groaned, leaning heavily on your pool cue as you stared at the evil ball. “How can I be so bad?” You muttered.
“For starters, your bridge is terrible.”
A voice sounded behind you, and you whirled around to find a man leaning against the railing on the stairs leading down to the pool area, a smirk on his face. He was gorgeous: tan skin, blonde hair, a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean forearms and slender fingers that twitched slightly at the ends—as if he was used to fidgeting with something that wasn’t there. His pants were black too, making him look like an elegant shadow beside the brightness of his hair.
You blinked. “My bridge?”
He walked down the steps, his silver necklace brushing against his exposed collarbone. “Your bridge, the way you make a base for the cue with your hand. It’s unsteady; you’ll never shoot straight if you don’t have a firm base.” He grabbed another pool cue from the wall and leaned over the table, placing the hardwood between his thumb and index finger. He moved it slightly, and you watched as the cue moved forward, not even a little wobbly.
“See?” He said. He moved around the table and hit the cue ball toward the orange five on the other side of the table, sinking it into the pocket.
When he did it, it looked like the easiest thing in the world.
“Now you try.” He nodded at the cue still gripped between your fingers, a strand of his blonde hair falling out of its slicked-back style.
You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling heat creeping up your neck. You had no interest in embarrassing yourself in front of some hot guy, but he was looking at you intently, clearly determined to help you. There was no backing out.
You picked up your cue and leaned down, aiming for the blue two in front of the side pocket. You tried to copy his hand placement, sliding the smooth wood between your fingers. It felt a bit more stable, but as you shot, the cue wobbled to the side, making the ball spin off course.
“Better,” he said. He moved towards you and motioned for you to get in position, and when you did, you felt him behind you, his body a warm pillar as he leaned over you. He put his arms on either side of you, guiding your hands with his own. His fingers brushed your knuckles as he shifted them against the green turf, and you felt your entire body heating up at the proximity.
“Like…this.” His hot breath bloomed against your neck. “Move the cue around, feel the difference.”
You pushed the cue as if you were hitting a ball, and your eyes widened at how much better it felt. The pole felt controlled, precise, completely different from the shaky awkwardness of before.
“Wow,” you said, “that’s…a lot better.”
The man hadn’t moved from behind you; he only retracted his arms, letting you position the cue freely. He leaned against the table. “No problem, try it out.”
You picked up the cue ball and placed it in front of your nemesis: the green six. You lowered your head, recreating the same steady bridge with your hand he had shown you. Same ritual: deep breath, two, pull back, shoot.
The white ball hit the green six squarely in the center with a satisfying clack, sending it flying into the corner pocket.
You gasped, “I did it!”
The man chuckled. “There you go, see? You’re not bad.”
You smiled, meeting his eyes. “Without you, I am.”
He nodded, smiling slightly, and the expression made your stomach flutter. “Happy to be of service.”
You shifted on your feet, looking around and noticing that the two of you were the only ones in the pool area, quiet, except for the distant bar chatter echoing in the dim greenish glow.
“So…you come here often?” You asked, hating the cheesy line the second you said it.
But he seemed to like it, because he laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table, and you noticed the silver glint of his watch on his wrist. It looked expensive. “Yeah, I’m here pretty often.”
“You got a name?”
He smiled. “I do, it’s Jay.”
“I’m y/n.”
“Pleasure,” Jay said. “Are you here alone?”
“Oh no, my friend is here.” You gestured at the bar, where your friend was, and you coughed when you noticed she and the guy had started an intense makeout session, not noticing the bartender shooting them dirty looks.
Jay smirked. “Seems like she’s having more fun than you are.”
You scoffed. “I’m used to it; she’s always been more…social. But I’m having a perfectly good time working on my pool game.”
“Oh yeah, it seemed like it was going really well.” His eyes ran down your figure—so fast you almost missed it—but it was enough to make you hyperaware of how your black halter top fit around your neck. Suddenly constrictive as a thin layer of sweat coated your hands.
You shrugged. “I would have figured it out.”
“Oh, so should I leave? Give you more space to ‘figure it out?’”
You laughed softly, your cheeks hot. “I guess you’re sort of helpful, besides…there’s space.”
Jay’s eyes darted around the vacant tables. “I guess there is.”
You stared at each other, a tension settling in the air that made your skin prickle.
“You know, if you really want to get better…I could teach you.” Jay said after a moment.
Your eyes widened. “Really?”
He smiled, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, I’ve been told I have some skills, so if you want to be uh—” he glanced at your friend at the bar, still locking lips with the guy, “—social, you could come by tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.”
“Here?”
Jay chuckled. “Yeah, why? Are these tables not to your liking?”
Your heart was beating out of your chest, his tan skin almost glowing in the warm light, and the way he looked at you was making it hard to speak straight. “N-no, they’re really nice; it’s one of the nicest bars I’ve been to actually.”
“Great, does 9 pm work?”
You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at his lips. “Sounds good.”
He noticed, his eyes darkening slightly. “Perfect.”
Just then, your friend came bounding down the stairs, face flushed and hair messy. “Hey, sorry about that, I got distracted.” She glanced at Jay, and one look at his dark clothes and blonde hair and her entire face changed. “Oh, hello, do you two know each other?”
You shook your head. “No, we just met; this is Jay.”
“Jay…” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Where have you been hiding?”
Jay chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it for the night.” You grabbed your friend's hand and started walking towards the stairs. “It was nice meeting you, Jay.”
He nodded, his unfairly bright smile finding its way back to his lips. “Likewise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Your friend asked, looking between you, “What’s tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you whispered, dragging her away, the smile on your face so wide it almost hurt.
The next night, you walked into the bar wearing a black sheer top over a jean skirt, your heart beating out of your chest with nerves.
All day you’d been thinking of him: the way his eyes ran down your figure, the way his breath felt on your neck, and how you weren’t quite sure you were going to be able to make it through a whole night with him.
Now, as the familiar lights washed over you and the low sounds of laughter wafted through the room, you felt a new wave of fear rip through you, creating a full-body shiver. What if he stood you up? What if he was a weirdo? What if he turned out to be a serial killer? Or the favorite anxiety thought: What if you hallucinated him?
You walked in and awkwardly shuffled towards the pool tables, glancing over the side of the railing as you searched for a flash of his blonde hair. But you only spotted a couple of college guys and a pair of tough-looking older men wearing leather jackets, bright-colored patches adorning every inch.
You checked your watch. 8:59
Maybe you were too on time? You tended to arrive at places earlier than people expected you, much to many of your friends' annoyance. “10:00 means 10:15 y/n; you just say it earlier because everyone’s always late!”
You were never late.
You fiddled with your purse, glancing between the bar and the pool tables, debating between ordering a drink and warming up with a few ball hits to make yourself look a little less bad in front of Jay.
Then a hand rested on your back.
You jumped, turning to find Jay looking down at you, dressed in a casual black long-sleeved shirt and jeans, a smile already on his face. “You’re right on time.”
You smiled back, your skin tingling from his hand on your back. “I thought I was early.”
“Nothing wrong with being early, just means more time for our lesson.” He smirked, “Come on, it’s a bit crowded out here; I got a table in the back.”
“The back?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought this was the only room.”
“For most people, but you’re my guest.” He started walking away, motioning for you to follow.
You hesitated, looking over at the public tables that were now full, the place bustling with activity. You knew you shouldn’t go somewhere private with some guy you barely knew, but Jay felt so safe, so steady, and before you could think too hard, you were walking after him.
He moved through the room seamlessly, and you tilted your head when you saw the bartender nod at him.
Jay led you to a dark wooden door at the back of the room, and your eyes widened when you saw the large white sign on the door adorned with bold black letters: PRIVATE, DO NOT ENTER.
He opened it and motioned for you to go ahead of him.
You stared at him. “Do you…work here?”
He chuckled, looking between you and the door. “y/n, I’m the owner.”
Your eyes widened like saucers. “What?”
He leaned against the threshold, brushing a hand through his hair, peering into the bar behind you. “Yeah, the whole place is mine. Does that change anything?”
“N-no, I’m just-” You laughed. “-I thought you were a normal guy.”
He smiled, and his eyes dropped to your lips. “I don’t think we’re so different.”
You felt your cheeks erupt with heat, and you looked through the open door, finding a dark set of stairs. “Well, I’m very curious to see the owner’s private table.”
“Lead the way.”
You walked up the stairs, finding a matching wooden door at the top—dark and slightly foreboding. You opened it. “Whoa.”
It was a studio apartment, complete with a small kitchen along one wall, a bed tucked in the corner next to a wide window, and a room off to one side leading to a bathroom. Your eyes scanned over a small collection of guitars propped in one corner, the colors bright and glossy against the dark wood of the floor and walls. A TV sat facing the bed, surrounded by a bookshelf decorated with a collection of pictures and trophies.
But the crown jewel of the room was the pool table.
It stood in the center, the felt bright green, the base of the table a wood so dark it was basically black. The pockets were polished silver, the collection of pool cues on the wall pristine and orderly. You had never thought of pool tables as particularly attractive before, but this one was changing your mind.
Jay walked to the sink. “Drink?”
You tore your eyes away from the table and back to him. “Oh, sure.”
“I’ve got it all: beer, wine, scotch…pick your poison.”
You smiled. “Wine sounds nice.”
He nodded to himself. “I’ve got just the bottle.”
Within a few minutes, you were each holding a wine glass, Jay leaning against the massive table as he arranged the balls in the triangular rack.
You eyed the trophies on the bookshelf, a golden eight ball perched on one of them. “You weren’t lying about having skills.”
“Most of them are from my college days; I bet you’ll be beating me by the end of the night.”
You snorted. “I highly doubt that.”
“I’ve been told I’m a great teacher.”
“No one’s that good.” You said.
His rich laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “Oh, I am.”
You took a sip of your wine. “Alright, I expect to be a pool master by the time I go to sleep tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He set his glass down and grabbed a pool cue, aiming at the cue ball. “Now, lesson one…”
Jay led you through a myriad of tips and tricks, first demonstrating, then watching on the side with his arms crossed as you bent over the table to take your shot. You felt his eyes on you constantly, drifting from your finger bridge all the way down your back. He wasn’t trying to hide it; he was flirty in the most disarming way possible: subtle with words, but explicit with touch.
Every time he walked by you when he was positioning for a better shot, he’d go much closer than necessary, letting his arm brush yours. Sometimes, he’d even gently place his hands on your shoulders, moving you to the side, his fingers tracing down your skin.
When it was your turn, he stood right next to you, murmuring instructions with his deep voice, his hip almost pressed against yours.
You tried to focus on the game, because you really did want to be a good student, but every time he spoke, you shivered, and every time his eyes met yours, you momentarily stopped breathing.
You were truly fighting for your life.
But just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. So much worse.
Jay was in the middle of pouring your third glass of wine, and you were desperately trying to focus on aiming your shot instead of staring at the way his fingers caressed the bottle when he spoke—so casual it sent a chill down your spine.
“How about we up the stakes?”
You stopped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” he said, “...that every time one of us pockets a ball, the other one takes off a piece of clothing.”
You stared at him blankly, your brain struggling to decide if you just heard him right.
He handed you your wine glass. “Just a suggestion.”
You took it numbly, inhaling sharply when his fingers brushed yours.
He smiled.
You blinked and took a breath. “That seems…highly one-sided given your-” you glanced at his trophy case, “-achievements.”
He chuckled, the sound going straight between your legs. “I’ll go easy on you.”
“Is this what you meant when you said you were a good teacher?”
“Maybe.”
You watched as Jay arranged the colored balls into the rack, now painfully aware of the way his muscles flexed under his shirt and the way the tendon in his neck shifted beneath his skin. You clenched your thighs together, the tension in the room alone enough to build the pressure in your core.
He placed the cue ball across from the triangle and broke the cluster in a scattering of colors. One went in: stripes.
“Alright, solids, you’re up.”
You approached the table, running through every piece of advice Jay had ever given you: stable bridge, hit the bottom if you want a stop, the top if you want a follow, be confident, follow through…You aimed at the red seven, ignored the feeling of Jay’s eyes on your face, and shot.
The ball rolled sadly past your target and hit the side of the table with a disappointing thump.
You sighed, half-relieved and half-disappointed. You were fairly certain your accuracy would tank the second Jay’s chest hit cool air.
Jay didn’t say anything, just moved behind you, his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he walked to the other side of the table. He bent down with the accuracy of a pro, his brows furrowed and one of his eyes partially shut as he aimed.
You held your breath as time seemed to slow.
His arm moved, and you watched as the striped orange ball hit the table and banked into a side pocket: an incredible shot.
“Was that supposed to be ‘going easy?’” You asked, your face red. The room suddenly felt very hot.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “To be fair, that was pretty lucky.”
You fiddled with the edge of your top. “So…do you get to choose the clothing?”
He leaned against the table, looking you up and down slowly, his eyes trailing fire over your skin. “I’ll let you choose.”
You thought for a second, brushing your fingers over the rough fabric of your jean skirt and the thin material of your sheer top. You glanced up and smirked when you saw Jay watching your every movement. You bent down and unzipped the side of your black leather boots before tugging them off your feet. You stood up, both boots clenched between your fingers, and dropped them with a satisfying thud.
Jay let out a short laugh at your triumphant expression, his tongue flicking out over his lips. “You want to play it that way?”
“What? Wouldn’t want to go too fast.”
He sighed. “I was looking forward to seeing you in nothing but boots, though.”
You blushed. “Maybe I’ll put them back on later.”
He walked closer, smiling slightly when he saw you visibly tense. He stopped when your chests were almost touching. “I’ll look forward to it. Your turn.”
The game continued for what felt like hours as the tension grew and the amount of wine in the bottle shrank. Jay was going anything but easy, and you attributed it to the way his eyes darkened every time you revealed another patch of skin, aching for the next reveal. At this point, you were down to nothing but your bra and panties, your feet bare against the cool hardwood floor. Jay’s eyes were everywhere, settling on the curve of your back and the rise of your ass every time you bent over the table.
You were starting to enjoy the way you were tormenting him and began to do some teasing of your own. You’d prop your elbow on the table during his turn, standing low so your tits were directly in his field of view. You put your chin in your hand and pouted your lip like you were bored, biting your lip whenever he glanced up.
It worked, because he started to miss, groaning softly whenever the ball uselessly hit just next to the pocket. Then he’d look up at you like you were a rock in his shoe and flex his hand like he was restraining himself, his eyes dark.
Meanwhile, you’d somehow managed to pocket two balls, which earned you a devilish smirk that made your knees weak and Jay’s shirt and shoes.
When he first took off the black fabric, revealing lean muscle and golden skin, you’d missed your next two shots, unable to focus on anything besides how badly you wanted to trace your fingers up his chest. Jay just stood there and smiled, adjusting his pants so they revealed the top of his V-line.
You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.
Then Jay made another shot.
He chuckled.
He made another one.
Jay leaned on his pool cue, gaze darting over you.
Your pussy had been throbbing ever since you took your boots off, and the way he stared at you now was making your brain stall. There was nothing left you could use to draw out the inevitable, nothing to stop you from being left completely bare.
“Does this mean I lose?”
His tongue darted out. “Technically, yes.”
“So what now?”
Slowly, he started walking towards you, watching the way you clenched your thighs the closer he got. You were leaning against the table, and he stopped right in front of you, leaning his pool cue to the side, never once taking his eyes off of you.
He lowered his hand so the tips of his fingers brushed your waist, making your skin shiver.
“Now, either you take them off…or me.”
Your breath grew shallow as his hand drifted up to tease the edge of your bra, his other hand resting on your hip. He moved closer so his bare stomach was pressed against yours, and the shock it sent up your spine felt so good you had to resist pulling him closer.
“Go ahead.” Your voice wavered on the last syllable, as his hand squeezed your thigh and your pussy clenched around nothing.
He smirked. “It was a good game; better luck next time.” His hand slid behind you and unclipped your bra with one hand, pulling it off you and tossing it onto the pool table.
You sighed as your breasts hit cool air, his eyes immediately dropping to your hardened nipples. He ran his thumb over one, groaning softly when you exhaled, arching away from him as you pressed your back against the table.
With his other hand, Jay hooked his finger into your panties and dragged them down, immediately grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.
He looked up at you now, his lips parted as short breaths escaped them, roving over your naked body like you were a feast he didn’t know where to begin. You let your hands wander to the back of his neck and up into his hair, the blondish silver locks pooling over your fingers in soft waves.
“Fuck,” he said, “you’re gorgeous. I mean, I knew you would be, but fuck.”
You giggled. “So was this your plan all along?”
He smiled, running another finger over your nipple, making you whimper. “Not in this much detail, but…I wanted you from the moment I saw you holding the pool cue like you were seconds away from splitting it in half.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. “So you’re saying the secret is walking around bars looking clueless?”
He leaned his forehead against yours. “No, only my bar, and only in front of me.”
Then he kissed you—hard—scraping his teeth along your bottom lip as his hand clutched the back of your neck. You groaned into his mouth, parting your lips around his tongue as your hands gripped his hair, holding him against you.
Jay’s other hand went to your hip, fingers digging into the skin with the same intensity he had gripping the pool cue. He pulled you even closer, and you gasped when you felt his hard length straining against your core from inside his pants.
He smiled against your lips and purposely moved against you, sending shivers down your back as your clit brushed his bulge.
“You want it?” He started kissing down your jaw. “Want me to lay you out on this table and fuck you till you can’t think?” His voice was deep and breathy in your ear, heightening the pressure building low and hot between your legs. It was shocking how much your body craved him, the hours of tension creating a primal need that rallied in your body like a disease. Every sound was disarming, every touch debilitating.
“I need you so bad, Jay.” You sighed. You thought of the pool cue drifting over his fingers, how they were long and precise and so insanely torturous the way they teased you. “I want your fingers inside me.”
His lips stopped against your neck. “Say it again.”
“Jay,” you whined, looking down where your core was still pressed against his crotch. “Need to feel those talented hands all over me.” You smiled. “Your customer has a request; wouldn’t want me to leave a bad review now, would you?”
He chuckled darkly, the sound like blood red wine flowing through your veins. “Well, we couldn’t have that.”
He swept his arm behind you, clearing some of the stray balls before pushing you onto your back. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning over until you were completely trapped under him, his blonde hair falling into his face as he looked down. “They say the customer is always right.” He leaned down even further until his lips were brushing your ear. “But you might regret it.”
Your heart was beating in rapid bursts, excitement and desire making your thoughts race in drunken flashes that were only intensified by the wine. “I’m a big girl, Jay.”
Jay kissed the corner of your mouth, suddenly tender as one of his hands traced your waist. “Then remember big girls don’t cry, y/n.”
A finger plunged into you, making you arch against the table at the sudden penetration. A broken moan spilled out of your mouth, and Jay muffled it with his lips, humming in pleasure as your body jerked and bucked against his hand. His tongue tangled with yours in an obscene dance, the wet sound of your mouths and his finger pumping into your pussy creating a cacophony of filthy sounds echoing through the large room.
His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing hard, slow circles that made your brain short-circuit. You whimpered into his mouth, begging for more through the only part of your body that wasn’t being pressed against the table: your hands. You pulled at his hair and dug your fingers into his scalp, a rush of pleasure going straight to your head when he groaned and trembled under your touch.
Jay added another finger, making you pull away as your head tilted against the table at the stretch, a loud moan slipping from your lips.
You felt him smile against your skin as he moved lower and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and lapping at the hardened bud as if he was starving.
“Jay! Holy fuck. It feels so good.” You gasped, biting your lip to stop the collection of moans buffering in your throat, ready to spill out like a song.
A low sound that felt like a purr vibrated deep in his chest, and in one agonizing moment, he stepped back completely, his fingers withdrawing from the warmth of your pussy and leaving behind a sad emptiness.
“Noo,” you whined. You propped yourself up on your elbows, finding Jay staring at you with his usual smirk. His hair was a mess, the bare skin of his chest flushed, his eyes dark and foggy with need—and you thought that the sight of him now would haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t let you cum till I’m inside you.” He undid the button of his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, letting his hard and dripping cock spring free.
Your mouth watered instantly, and your walls grasped uselessly at nothing. You clenched your thighs together, and Jay moved, grabbing your knees and pulling your legs apart. He kissed your kneecap. “Keep them open for me, ok? Wanna see how bad you need me.”
You bit your tongue, watching with glazed eyes as he kissed his way up your thigh, the pressure almost unbearable.
He met your eyes, and without looking away, licked a stripe through your folds.
“Fuck!” You moaned, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to grind on his tongue. He made a gentle swirl around your clit, and a sound came out of you that you didn’t know you could make. Jay was still looking at you, total devotion on his face as he took in every clench of your jaw and parting of your lips.
He stopped and stood up, leaning towards your face and kissing your cheeks softly. “You’re crying, baby, and I’m not even inside you yet. Don’t you remember what I said?”
You let out a shaky breath. “Big girls don’t cry.”
He smiled. “That’s right, so show me you can take it.”
You kissed him softly. “Please, Jay, I’ll be good.”
Jay searched your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and smeared mascara, looking at him like he was the earth and you were the moon. He nodded once. He shifted his hips. His hands moved to your waist.
His head pressed against your entrance.
You inhaled sharply, gripping his shoulders and staring down at the place where your bodies were about to meet.
He pushed inside, and the stretch had you leaning over his shoulder, holding onto him like a pillar, his hot skin the only thing grounding you as your walls huddled around him.
You groaned in unison as he went deeper, and he kissed your neck, swirling gentle, rhythmic circles until he bottomed out with a satisfied sigh.
You sat there for a moment, breaths mingling. Your face buried in his neck, and his in your hair, both just basking in the way your bodies meshed together.
Then, he moved.
The friction was exquisite, the ridges of his cock rubbing against your smooth walls in dizzying strokes that had you moaning into his neck. You scraped your nails down Jay’s back, and you heard him curse into your hair, his thrusts speeding up.
The pool table shook slightly under you, the balls rattling on the surface with every move of Jay’s hips. You pulled back and ran your lips up his jaw until he pulled back and met you in the middle, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss as he started to thrust into you harder and deeper.
He sucked on your bottom lip, smiling when you clutched at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, hands running down his arms as you tried to touch every inch of him. He dragged you even closer by the hips, groaning when his dick started slamming against your cervix, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room.
The pressure in your body was a coil tightened to its limit, making every movement brutal as your body begged for release. You kissed Jay harder, moaning into his mouth and rocking against him as you chased your climax.
Jay’s breaths turned ragged as you moved in time with him, maddeningly turned on by the way you clutched at him as if he were the ground beneath your feet. “y/n,” he groaned between kisses. “Let me cum inside, please.”
You nodded against his mouth, almost too delirious for words. “Yes,” you choked.
He groaned and pulled away from your mouth with a wet pop as he started thrusting into you rapidly, looking down and watching himself disappear inside you.
“God, you’re perfect, you’re mine, you’re all mine.” Jay gasped.
You looked down too, the image combined with the filthy sounds of your meshing bodies sending a jolt of pleasure down your back. You felt your climax building, rising in a crescendo of ecstasy. “Jay, I’m cumming!”
The squelching sounds of your juices around his cock got louder, blending with the high-pitched moan that ripped from your throat when your orgasm hit you.
Your vision blurred, and you braced yourself with one hand on Jay’s chest, grinding in time with the waves of pleasure as your climax ran its course.
Jay followed right after, moaning as your pussy clamped down and milked him dry, his hot seed spilling inside of you in spurts. He slowed his thrusts, his eyes fluttering closed as his own orgasm heightened and subsided. He tilted his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily, occasionally placing kisses along your sweaty collarbone.
You massaged his scalp, letting his silky hair brush over your fingers, basking in the heavy silence of Jay’s apartment, only broken by your soft pants.
You sat there for a few moments, processing. Then Jay slowly slipped out of you, drawing soft groans from each of you as you finally came apart. He kissed you softly and whispered against your lips. “You were amazing.”
You smirked. “At pool? Or…?”
He laughed. “Your game could use some work, but lucky for you, I’m always open to more lessons.”
“Well, now that I know your…teaching methods, I’d be happy to come back.”
Jay started kissing down your neck. “Good, next time we can work on your break. His mouth went between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach. “Or…” He stopped below your belly button, a new wave of heat already pooling between your legs. “The way you break under my tongue.”
“Tomorrow?” You asked, breath already uneven.
He smiled before disappearing between your legs. “Right now.”
