ash

It’s a mad dash to get to the cooler first. Clint’s chair flips upside down into the sand, Natasha’s once-flat towel becomes a wrinkled heap, Steve and Bucky nearly run into the umbrella and then each other, and you, well. You don’t have spy-like reflexes or super-soldier speed. Which means you're stuck at the end of the line.  

“Bomb Pops?? Stark, I could kiss you,” Clint remarks as he unwraps the treat. 

“In front of Romanoff?” Tony asks, the sarcasm laid on thickly. “I’d like to keep all of my limbs, Bird-Brain.” 

Clint’s favorite finger goes up in response. Natasha chuckles, grabbing her own popsicle and a bottle of water.  

Your patience is growing thinner with each bead of sweat that rolls down the back of your neck. The beating sun was somewhat bearable underneath the umbrella with Bucky and Steve, but now that you’re exposed to the direct rays, you’re thinking about fighting a super soldier for a damn Bomb Pop.  

Steve must’ve sensed the aggravation radiating off your body, because he turns around and offers you the popsicle he grabbed for himself. Bucky freezes mid-tear as he watches the interaction.  

“Do you want one?” he asks. It’s rhetorical in nature, since he’s already holding it out for you to grab.  

The frustration that occupies your body melts into shame quickly, like the popsicle will if you don’t eat it soon. The super soldier you were thinking about fighting wasn’t as kind in your thoughts. And now you feel like an ass for even thinking that way.  

“Are you sure-” you begin, before Steve simply lifts your hand up and places it into your palm.  

“Yes. I insist.” 

The cool weight sends relief throughout your hand. “Thanks, Steve,” you say with a smile.  

He returns your smile, his eyes lighting up like a puppy’s after getting a treat and being called a ‘good boy.’ 

You’re not exactly sure what to make of that look, but it’s too hot to unpack that right now. Instead, you remove the wrapper—your hands already getting sticky—and slide the icy treat into your mouth.  

The artificial cherry flavor bursts across your taste buds, coating your tongue in a sweet syrup. Mixed with the blissful cooling affect? You’re unable to stop the borderline pornographic moan from escaping your lips.  

A choking sound causes you to freeze mid-lick. You open your eyes—which must’ve closed during your popsicle-induced ecstasy—and see Bucky doubled over, coughing into his fist. Steve is staring at you with eyes as wide as his shield and parted lips.  

Oh, God. The moan. Your moan caused two super soldiers to malfunction.  

Your first instinct is to be embarrassed, your cheeks starting to warm, but then Steve shifts his weight slightly. It’s subtle. Calculated. The tiniest movement of muscle.  

But you notice. And then you notice his fingers moving—no, twitching—toward his swim trunks, where he’s- 

Oh my God, he’s hard.  

Your eyes flick to Bucky—who’s upright and no longer coughing, thankfully—and from this angle, his swim trunks are bulging- 

Your popsicle is halfway melted at this point, fingers dripping with the sticky syrup. You start moving toward the cooler for a bottle of water to rinse it off, but then an absolutely filthy idea pops in your head.   

Steve clears his throat and says your name but avoids eye contact. “Do you need a bottle of water? To help with-” 

You slide two fingers into your mouth and moan again, effectively cutting Steve off. His eyes find yours again, somehow bigger this time. Pupils blown wide with desire. His throat bobs when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking the remaining popsicle residue.  

As the grand finale, you slowly slip the fingers out until they leave your mouth with a wet pop. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, practically panting.  

“God, can you three get a room?” Tony’s voice cuts through the sexual tension like a knife. Honestly, you forgot he was even standing by the cooler in the first place. 

And if he’s been there the entire time... 

Your boss heard you moan. Twice.  

Steve jumps when he realizes Tony is lurking and clears his throat again, pink spreading high on his cheeks. “Stark. We were just... It’s hot and...” 

Tony watches Steve grasp for an excuse with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Mmhmm. Go on.” 

Before Steve can thoroughly embarrass himself, you cut in. “If you shut up about this, I’ll give you the fix to your regen-tech problem.” 

He turns to you slowly, his brows lifting in curiosity. “I’m listening.” 

“You’re missing the bio-chemical component in the integration phase.” You tap your head as you look at Tony, incredulous. “Undergrad in bio-chemical engineering, remember?” 

“Deal.” He holds out his hand for you to shake. 

“Keep your word, Stark.” 

“No promises, Frodo.” 

He rolls the cooler over to the umbrella, then opens the lid to grab a water bottle. As it falls shut, he finds your eyes and winks.  

Back under the umbrella, you process whatever...that...was in the way your brain knows best: the scientific method. It’s cliché, sure, but it’s familiar.  

Observation #1: Steve and Bucky haven’t met your eyes since sitting down. 

Observation #2: Steve is drawing in his sketchbook.  

Observation #3: Bucky is pretending to solve a Sudoku puzzle. 

Observation #4: Approximately every 30 seconds, he’ll glance at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are.  

Observation #5: Beach towels are attempting to cover super-soldier-level erections. 

Question: Which suggestive actions will cause significant super soldier reactions? 

Hypothesis: Steve and Bucky are sexually stimulated by observing oral actions of another person. Therefore, other actions of the sexual nature should produce the same effect.  

Experiment #1: 

Fresh popsicle: acquired. Hair: tied.  

The soft scratching of Steve’s pencil gradually slows to a stop once you come into his field of view, his sketchbook snapping shut before you can catch a glimpse. “Poppy,” he starts, shifting in his chair. “Do you need help with the wrapper?” 

You peel the wrapper slowly in response, revealing the red, white, and blue treat millimeter by millimeter, your eyes staying locked on Steve’s. He holds your gaze through the action, until you ‘accidentally’ drop the paper, letting it land by his feet.  

“Oops...” you say, unable to stop the ghost of a smirk from forming. “I’ll get it.” 

“I got it-” he says at the same time, about ready to jump from his chair.  

Before he can make a move, you squat low, keeping his eyes glued to yours like a magnet. Dragging them down as you sink lower. An irresistible connection.  

Your fingertips brush the wrapper, enough to crinkle it, and then your knees sink into the coarse sand.  

“What are you...” he breathes, lips parted and chest heaving. A bead of sweat runs down his temple.  

You’re practically between his knees at this point. “Don’t wanna litter...”  

A strangled noise comes out of his mouth as you drag your tongue up the underside of the popsicle. His hands grip the arms of the chair like a lifeline; so hard that the plastic groans underneath his palms, ready to snap.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky adjust the towel covering his lap and lick his lips, the pink of his tongue peeking out. These two are every scientist’s dream, the way they provide ample data for your hypothesis.  

Because that’s what this is, right? Just a science experiment. Nothing more. This is truly for scientific purposes only. Raw, hard...data. 

Once your tongue reaches the tip of the popsicle, you swirl over it, spreading a mix of syrup and saliva around. Acting quickly, you lap up the dripping mixture.  

Steve practically moans out your name, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.  

Your unoccupied hand latches onto Steve’s knee, causing him to jolt in surprise. “Eyes on me, Captain,” you say, voice low and commanding. He obeys, slim rings of blue fighting large, black pupils for dominance.  

His look is hungry. Desperate. Needy. And it’s all for you.  

It almost breaks you. Almost.  

You almost rip the towel from his lap and take him right there.  

Instead, you slip the entire popsicle in your mouth. Lips wrapped around it fully. The tip hitting the back of your throat. Juice dripping down your chin, your neck, your chest... Steve’s eyes following the trail and swallowing hard when it glides in between your breasts.  

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t imagining Steve’s dick in place of the popsicle. You’d be lying if you denied the heat coiling low in your belly. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want them both.  

“Christ, Poppy,” Steve- no, Bucky mutters, fucking palming himself through the towel. You stare at him in shock, mouth still full of melting ice.  

“Buck-” Steve hisses when he sees Bucky’s hand rubbing against the bulge. “We’re in public!” 

“Then let’s go somewhere out of public!” he hisses back.  

Wait, did you hear that right?  

Let’s. As in, let us.  

Us. 

Steve and Bucky? 

Experiment #2: 

It’s not a surprise. Not really. 

The conversations they have through only looks. How they always keep an eye on the other. Never leaving each other’s side unless absolutely necessary. 

Just...unexpected.  

So, when Steve tells Bucky no, we can’t go inside, Bucky doesn’t fight him. Which was, again, unexpected.  

Until he stands up.  

And the towel slides off.  

And his cock is fucking tight against his swim trunks, not leaving much to the imagination.  

You shudder in a breath. Jesus Christ, he’s huge. 

More warmth floods down to your belly, your walls clenching around nothing.  

Oh, you’re fucked. Truly, utterly, fucked.  

Bucky yanks the cooler open, hard enough to send it rocking back and forth. Once it settles, he reaches in and pulls out his own popsicle.  

Jesus, how many did Tony buy? 

He whips back around to face Steve and rips the wrapper off with his teeth, eyes narrowing. “You wanna play that game, Rogers? Fine. Let’s play.” 

He drops down next to you, his knees sending up a puff of sand. You start to slide away from your spot, thinking Bucky wants the prime position to command Steve’s attention, but then you feel sun-warmed metal touch your shoulder.  

“Stay,” Bucky says, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes as they meet yours.  

Then they flick down to your lips. 

You suck in a slow breath, trying to tame the increasing tempo of your heart. His eyes stay locked on your lips and- oh, God, is he leaning closer?  

Fuck, this isn’t supposed to be happening. This isn’t part of the experiment. You aren’t part of the experiment. At least not being experimented on. But you can’t resist the pull—his pull. The gravitational force of his body is too much, too fast, all-consuming, and you’re so close you could- 

Sweet. Cold. Wet. That’s what presses against your lips.  

Not Bucky. 

You blink once. Dazed. Heart racing. 

Then—flesh; thumb and finger gently grabbing your chin. Gently pushing it down to open your mouth wider, your tongue instinctually moving forward. You’re panting, chest heaving with each breath. Nipples hardening against your swimsuit top. Your brain as frozen as the popsicle hitting your tongue and being shoved down- 

A moan vibrates out of your throat. 

Bucky is watching you, lips parted, eyes as wide as saucers, flesh hand still holding your chin. “Fucking perfect...” he whispers, voice hoarse.   

He pushes the popsicle further into your mouth, testing the length gently. 

Another moan.  

The tip hits the back of your throat.  

“Taking it so good, Poppy...” 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, helping relax you more, which brings the popsicle deeper. Your walls clench again, aching for Bucky, Steve, anything. 

“Buck-” Steve chokes out.  

Shit, you almost forgot he was there.  

Bucky removes the popsicle from your mouth. Slowly. Deliberately. The corners of his lips tugged up into a smirk. 

He’s playing you like a fiddle. And you’re okay with that.  

A whimper follows once the red tip leaves your mouth. “Bucky...” 

“I know, doll,” he coos, his thumb wiping the juice leaking from your mouth. “Tell me what you need from me.”  

Your brain is mush, unable to think of anything else besides drooling on the thickness of his- 

“Poppy.” You blink up at him. “Words, doll.” 

Another whimper, then, “You...” It’s barely audible, but you know he can hear it.  

His smirk grows. “What was that?” 

“You, Bucky.” Louder this time, your voice coming out like a whine. You grip the hard muscle of his thigh. “Fuck, I need you now.” 

“Hmm, I see...” His thumb brushes over the plush of your bottom lip. “Well, I would help you with that, but our Captain here says no...” 

“I didn’t-” Steve interjects, voice unsteady. “I- Don’t put words in my mouth, Buck.” 

“Mmhmm, sure. Next time, I’ll put something else in your mouth.” 

That sends Steve sputtering.  

And you—well, your lips are still parted by Bucky’s fingers. Your brain is preoccupied with other thoughts.  

You squeeze Bucky’s thigh, desperate for his attention again.  

He brings his eyes back to yours. “’M sorry, doll. Just a couple more minutes...” He presses the melting popsicle to your lips after moving his fingers away. You open your mouth in anticipation, but he shakes his head. “Lick.” 

Your breath hitches. “L-Lick?” 

He nods. “Like this.” He leans forward and drags his tongue from the base to the tip, eyes locked on yours.  

You press your thighs together, desperate for some sort of pressure. Some relief from the relentless pulsing. A whine escapes your lips. “Bucky…” 

The popsicle is dripping onto his fingers, just like you wish your cunt was- 

“Poppy, I need you to focus.” Bucky’s voice brings you back. “Lick.” 

You nod, trembling with desire, and bring your tongue to the base, starting a slow ascent to the tip. You’re almost there.  

Just a couple more minutes my ass. 

“Again, doll,” Bucky says after you reach the tip. “Until it’s gone.” 

You swallow hard. “I can’t-” 

“I know you can, baby. Just a little more, okay? Here.” He leans forward again. “Let me help you.” 

He laps up the popsicle juices in varying rhythms: fast, then slow, slower... fast again. Flattens his tongue against the ice and drags upward. Steady flicks: one, two, three.  

You’re entranced. He’s put a spell on you. And all that you can manage to do is bite your lower lip.  

“Gotta help me out, Poppy,” he says, bringing you back to reality. “Can’t finish this alone.” 

Right. He was helping you. But he can’t blame you for getting distracted. 

You match his pace—licking, lapping, making absolutely obscene sounds—and God, your swimsuit bottoms are drenched.  

Crack. 

“Shit.” 

Bucky looks at Steve first, a grin stretching across his face. “Stevie...”  It’s your turn to look. Shards of plastic lay on the sand right below where the handles of Steve’s chair should be.  

A sigh. “Fine. Let’s go inside.” 

The second you cross the threshold of Steve’s room, you’re airborne. Steve lifts you by the hips and throws you over his shoulder, pulling a squeak from your lips.  

“Need you now,” he rasps in your ear, voice low and vulnerable, sending heat straight to your core.  

“Steve,” you breathe, pressing a flurry of kisses to the side of his throat. A groan rumbles against your lips.  

“Gonna show you... All that teasing you and Buck did...” He cups the back of your head and lays you down on the bed, easing you gently onto the cushioned comforter. The gesture is sweet—the juxtaposition between large, rough super soldier and tender, feather-like touches—but you hope, pray even, that he doesn’t hold back. That he gives you everything. 

“Hope you’re gonna show me too, Captain,” Bucky says, his arms sliding up Steve’s torso from behind. You prop yourself up to watch as he grinds against Steve’s ass just barely—a whisper against swim trunks—but it’s enough to make Steve’s hips buck up at nothing, each nerve overstimulated from the beach foreplay.  

“You’re a punk, you know that?” Steve says, his hands meeting Bucky’s on his chest. “A pain in my ass.” 

Bucky lets out a short laugh. “A pain in your ass, huh? I thought you liked that.” 

A pink flush spreads across Steve’s cheeks, something you’ve never witnessed in the year you’ve known him. Captain America? Flustered? It’s truly a sight to see.   

Steve stutters through a couple of sounds, unable to land on one to form a solid word.  

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, sliding his hands down Steve’s abs and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his trunks. “Don’t need words from you right now...” He drags the trunks off Steve’s hips, letting them drop to the ground after his cock springs free. The sight does nothing to quell the throbbing between your legs. He’s huge. Hard. The tip leaking with pre-cum. You swallow hard, eyes wide with uncertainty of how the fuck he’s going to fit anywhere.  

“D’you like what you see, Poppy?” Bucky grabs Steve’s cock in his flesh hand, stroking it lazily. Steve lets out a loud moan, leaning against the broad plane of Bucky’s chest. “He’s big, isn’t he? Nice and long,” he drags his fist up from the base and presses the tip gently, spreading around the liquid. Your mouth goes dry and more heat shoots down to your belly, mixing with the pool gathered there.  

A shudder goes through Steve’s body, making him grip Bucky’s hip to ground him. His throat bobs—lips parted, cheeks pink—and panting out each word. “Buck, enough t-teasing… Need you…” His bare ass grinds against Bucky’s boner, sliding his thumb underneath Bucky’s waistband. “N-Need you inside…” 

Bucky’s hand skids to a stop. “Nuh uh, Stevie. You play by my rules if you want my attention.” 

Steve whines and removes his thumb. “M’kay. Just- more, please…” 

“Don’t want you comin’ too fast, Captain. Gotta keep it slow.” He starts up again, teasingly slow, his fist gliding, each finger bumping over the ridges of every vein.  

And fuck, the sight of them both—Bucky speeding up his pace then slowing down, Steve flushed and needy and moaning for more—has you dripping. Rubbing your thighs together to soothe your throbbing clit. Hands bunching up the comforter. Walls clenching in rhythm with Bucky’s strokes. Nipples aching against your bikini top. You’re desperate for some sort of stimulation amidst the storm brewing in front of you.  

Throughout it all, Bucky’s eyes haven’t left yours, glinting with mischief as he pulls moan after moan out of Steve. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, yet all you can do is watch. 

Well, there is something you can do to pick up his pace. 

You push yourself up and onto your knees, then your arms reach around to untie the strings keeping your bikini in place. First, pulling the strings around your neck. Then, the ones around your back. The fabric drops into your lap, revealing the soft, full curve of your breasts to the men in front of you. 

Just as you predicted, they both freeze. Both sets of eyes travel down to your hardened nipples. Bucky licks his lips; Steve’s cock twitches against Bucky’s fist.  

And they both suck in a breath when your fingers pinch each nipple, eliciting a moan from your mouth. Bucky breathes your name in awe. “Shit, doll…” 

And Steve—his eyes are wide with a wild hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s looking at you like you are his prey. Like he can’t wait another second to pounce.  

You blink. One second, he’s in front of you. The next, his hands are roaming over your bare skin, the mattress dipping forward from his weight, which has you leaning closer from the uneven distribution. You cup his cheek and close the remaining distance between you both and kiss him.  

It’s searing and hungry, tongues clashing and teeth dragging across lips. Like he’s trying to consume your taste and memorize every taste bud. Then his hands are cupping your breasts, brushing his thumbs over your nipples. You suck in a breath and grip his thigh, the kiss breaking. “Steve…” 

His thumbs run over each nipple again, watching with a lazy smirk as the peaks harden. “You like that, Poppy?”  

You moan. “Mmhmm…” He pinches the perky buds between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp. “Steve! C-Careful… They’re…” Your cheeks burn hot. “They’re sensitive…”  

His smirk spreads, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. “Sensitive, huh?” You nod, your lips pushing together in a pout. “I’ll be careful, baby, don’t worry…” He leans down, taking a nipple in his mouth. At first, he’s swirling his tongue around and flicking gently. Then, without warning, he latches his lips around your nipple and sucks. You throw your head back and moan, fingernails digging into the flesh of his thigh. He starts gentle, sucking soft and content, dragging low moans from your swollen lips and keeping the other stimulated with careful tugs. He switches to your other nipple, delicately wrapping his lips around the red, puffy nub. Again, setting a slow pace.  

Your hand inches down from his thigh, fingers gliding over soft tufts of hair, until they reach the base of his cock, wrapping firmly around the girth.  

Steve moans around your nipple—sending the vibrations straight to your core—and the sucking becomes hurried, transforming into something more primal. Animalistic. All thoughts of gentleness erased from his mind. 

And when you start stroking him up and down with that firm grip, he can’t control how hard he’s sucking. He can’t control how he’s sucking like he’s trying to pull your whole breast off your chest.  

Your pace falters around his cock. “Steve- I- Too much...”  

It takes a moment for what you said to process in his nipple-drunk brain, but when it does, he stops and releases his hold. “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry...” he mutters into your skin, kissing your abused nipple gently. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” He presses another kiss there, then moves down the side of your breast, leaving a trail of wet kisses and continuing to your sternum.  

Before he gets any lower, you slide your fingers into his hair, giving a gentle tug to get his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours and searching for any pain he might’ve caused you.  

You shake your head, knowing where he was headed. “Need to show you first... How much I want your dick in my mouth...”  

He sucks in a sharp breath, brows raising at the image, and nods. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” In a flash, he’s on his knees, his torso towering over you as he straightens up, then guides you down by your hair to his red, flushed, twitching cock. It’s even bigger up close, you think, throat already aching from the sight.  

 You lean forward slowly, licking the fresh bead of pre-cum off his tip before taking him in fully, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him.  

He stutters out your name, gripping your hair tighter, trying to anchor himself. “Fuck, that mouth... K-Knew it’d feel like this, the way you sucked that popsicle...” 

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, his hand in your hair unconsciously spearing your mouth further down his cock. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that has him shuddering, until your nose is pressed against the base. 

The length is almost too much. His tip is hitting the back of your throat, his flesh burning a tight circle where it’s pressed. You breathe steadily around it, forcing your throat to accept the intrusion.  

“That’s it, baby,” Steve pants. “You’re doin’ so good for me, takin’ me so well... Bet this tastes b-better,” he can’t help but stutter as you slide up his length, tongue flattened, spit gathering at the corners of your mouth. 

He pulls you off the tip, hovering your mouth there as he takes a second to breathe. “Not too fast, Poppy. I’m already so fucking close-” 

A choked grunt escapes as you take the tip of your tongue and swirl it around his head once, twice, three times—then take him again to the base. The roots of your hair ache as his hand grips tighter, pleasure bordering on pain. His head is thrown back, gasping as you continue with sloppy desperation.  

Just then, two fingers slip underneath the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down until they’re bunched around your knees. Two hands—Bucky’s firm, calloused hands—grab onto your waist hard enough to leave bruises.  

Your thighs are glistening, slick and wet with the desire previously trapped by your bottoms. 

Bucky hums next to your ear, bare dick pressing hard on your ass. “D’you need some help, doll?” His fingers brush against your thighs, wiping up your mess in slow, taunting strokes, getting closer to your swollen clit each time.  

You gasp around Steve’s cock, bucking your hips toward Bucky’s fingers in desperation. You try to get out a ‘please,’ but all that comes out is a high whine.  

“You want my fingers, huh?” You nod as much as you can with Steve impaling your throat. “Hmm... Let me think about it.” Two fingers press against your dripping pussy lips, aimlessly swiping up and down the folds. You moan, shaking at his touch. 

“Poppy, baby. You really need this, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet for me and Stevie, that right?” He adds more pressure, both fingers slipping between your folds, and sinking deep into your cunt in one push. Your walls clench around him immediately, fluttering and pulsing as he slowly stretches you open.  

“Buck, I-I'm so fucking close,” Steve gasps as you moan around him again. “I’m gonna come if you make her moan like that again, Jesus Christ.” 

“Just gettin’ her ready...” Bucky’s fingers work deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that has your legs quivering— 

You whimper at the sudden loss of his fingers, hips still rutting against him like that could bring back the fullness. 

Bucky chuckles, steadying your hips. “So needy for my cock, hmm? I know, I know, gonna take care of you, doll.” He lines himself up behind you—just the tip pressing against your entrance—and you can barely contain the moan that comes out of your mouth.  

He pushes in slow, filling you up inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lights up in electric spasms. Your walls flutter around him, pulsing and clenching as he stretches you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.  

It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. The pressure, the fullness, the stretch—it’s overwhelming. A sob breaks from your lips, the vibrations making Steve groan above you, his hips twitching as he fights not to thrust. 

Bucky bottoms out with a hiss, his hands gripping your hips like a vice. He’s so thick—thicker than Steve—and this angle has him hitting deeper, kissing your cervix, filling up every inch of you, making your head spin. He’s stretching you to the edge of your limits, but you still want more.  

Through the haze, you give a few rolls of your hips, drawing slow circles with Bucky’s cock. Not rising off him, not letting a single inch slip out of you, just moving. Swaying gently until he can’t take it anymore and the desire takes him over, snapping his hips up with a grunt.  

Which then sends Steve over the edge—a domino effect that has you gagging on his dick as he fucks your throat with fast, hard strokes, the ridges of his veins molding their shape in your throat, and your cunt squeezing and dripping around the bluntness of Bucky’s cock.  

Your head is swimming. There are no thoughts besides Steve and Bucky. Your senses are going haywire: the salty taste of Steve, the intense pressure of Bucky, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a fire-like heat stretched taught in your belly. Body trembling. Their cocks being the only thing keeping you upright. Grunts and gasps and pants filling the room.  

Steve’s thrusts are erratic and uncontrolled, the involuntary twitch of his cock in your mouth telling you he’s close.  

“I- I’m gonna-” You look up at him through teary eyes, watching his face contort with pleasure. With the last of your strength, you hollow your cheeks, creating as much suction as you can.  

“Fuck!” he cries out, the hot liquid spilling down your throat. “Fuck, Poppy...” He keeps your head in place until he’s milked of every last drop, releasing his hold on your hair and slumping back with a grunt once you’ve swallowed it all.  

Strong hands wrap around your torso, pressing your back against sweat and muscle, before you fall forward with Steve as he pulls out, leaving you limp and boneless. “I gotcha, doll...” Bucky’s says, voice smooth and low and hot against your ear.  

You moan as he shifts impossibly deeper into you. “B-Bucky...” 

“Yeah, just like that...” he coos as you melt into him, your head leaning back to rest on his shoulder. “Stevie got you all tired out, huh?” You nod, just barely, eyes drooping as he caresses your arm. He grinds his hips just enough to make you gasp and hums. “I’m not done with you yet, baby... Steve can’t be the only one finishing around here...” 

His metal fingers glide down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, all the way down to your aching and neglected clit.  

“O-Oh.” You shiver at the shocking chill of metal against your heat.  

“That okay?” Bucky asks, rubbing languid circles over your clit.  

“Oh, God, fuck-” you groan, trembling as the heat grows tighter in your belly.  

“It’s okay, baby, breathe. You’re doin’ so good for me.” 

Your walls clench at the praise, sucking him deeper into your pussy. A guttural groan rips from Bucky’s throat, his flesh hand tightening around your bicep. “Shit, you’re takin’ me so well, doll. So fuckin’ tight and perfect.”  

“M-More, Buck.” A whimper escapes your lips.  

“Like this?” He draws tighter circles over your clit, increasing the speed and pressure.  

“Oh, fuck yes, don’t stop!” Your hands search desperately for the blankets, a thigh, anything to ground you as you get closer and closer to release. “Bucky, I’m- Fuck, I’m so- I need-” 

Your hips start to move on their own accord, grinding into Bucky and his cock hitting you just right, twitching inside of you, filling you in all the right places, and you know he’s close. He has to be. But he’s teasing you and dragging this out and now it’s time to take matters into your own hands. As much as you can while being a cock-drunk mess.  

The bed frame creaks as you bounce down on him, your cunt squeezing him at his base.  

“Poppy, what are you-” he sputters as you lift yourself up—thighs trembling—until just his tip remains inside. “Oh my God-” 

A moan rips through him as you crash back down, taking his entire length in one sharp thrust. You cry out from your walls being stretched so fast and hard, but it’s worth it, because that one action flipped a switch in him. His metal fingers are back at your clit, rubbing and pinching and pulling sharp gasps from your lips. His hips are thrusting up into your hungry, gushing cunt so hard that your tits are bouncing and slapping lewdly against your ribcage.  

“Oh, fuck, Bucky, I’m- I’m gonna-!” The band of heat in your belly snaps, sending your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of white, hot pleasure. His fingers, his thrusts—they don’t stop. They don’t stop even when you’re slack against him, completely spent and sucking in gulps of oxygen. He finally stops once his come completely fills you and spills out around his cock. 

Seconds pass. Maybe minutes. You can’t move—everything feels like jelly, your bones, your muscles, your skin. Your eyelids too heavy to open fully. Your chest heaves up and down until your heart has finally found its normal rhythm and breathing doesn’t feel like a chore. 

And Bucky—he’s still inside of you. Twitching, stretching, keeping you full as he catches his own breath. “Fuck, Poppy…” he whispers, his flesh hand brushing the strands of your hair off your sweaty forehead. “You did so well, sweetheart. Made me feel so good.” He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? That sound okay?” 

You give a short nod, your mind still playing catch-up with your body.  

Two flesh hands find your waist and begin to lift you up slowly. You can’t help the moan that comes out as you slide up Bucky’s cock, your cunt squeezing around him like it’s begging to stay. Mourning the loss of his fullness and pressure. He inhales sharply. “Damn, baby, you still want more?” He chuckles. “Stevie, she’s holdin’ onto my cock for dear life.” 

Your eyes flutter open to see Steve in front of you, his hands lifting you up and off like you weigh nothing. He grins. “Guess we didn’t fuck her enough if she’s still movin’ like that.”  

He lays you down on the bed gently, like you’re a precious artifact in a museum. His hand comes up and caresses your face, his stormy-blue eyes soaking in every detail “D’you think you can take us again? Is that what you want?” 

Words coil in your throat, stuck from the overstimulation. “I- I-” 

His unoccupied hand snakes down to your hipbone, drawing small circles. You shudder from the touch, unsure if that means too much or not enough. “Just need a nod, darling. Yes or no.” 

His hand travels lower, gliding over smooth skin and stopping right above your folds. “Steve...” you moan, your hips desperately grinding up for pressure. His fingers slip through the mess of your and Bucky’s combined release, finding your sensitive clit instantly. “Steve, please!” you beg, parting your legs and bucking up faster.  

“So needy, baby. Won’t stop until you come again, huh?” His fingers don’t move; they stay still, and he watches as you fuck yourself on his fingers. Panting, hips jerking erratically, face flushed and sweaty. “Fuck, Bucky, you seein’ this?” 

Bucky leans over and runs his hand through his hair. “Oh, she’s doin’ all the work for ya, pal. Don’t even have to move a muscle.” 

 You’re getting close again. The panting turns into soft cries, each burst of pleasure pooling in your belly. You don’t even care as they sit there and watch. All you can think of is the snap of your own release.  

Steve chuckles and removes his fingers from your folds. “Alright, that’s enough.” You cry out a gasp at the sudden loss of pressure. The heat in your belly freezing without his touch. “No! No, Steve,” you whine, hips dropping to the bed in defeat. “I- I need it.” 

“Be patient, Poppy. You’ll get what you want if you’re patient, okay?” 

You huff—which comes out more like a sharp exhale without the power behind it—and watch as Steve lifts his fingers dripping with your slick to Bucky’s mouth. “Want you to taste what you’ve done to her,” Steve says. Bucky opens obediently, taking the two fingers with no trouble, and sucks. Your jaw drops as his head bobs up and down Steve’s fingers, not wasting a single drop. “Yeah, that’s it, Buck... You like that, huh?” He nods, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Steve brings his other hand up to thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “Filthy thing, tasting yourself and her on my fingers.”  

You press your legs together, the sight of Steve finger-fucking Bucky’s mouth above you rekindling the heat in your core. “Steve, please,” you beg, reaching for him blindly. “Touch me, please...”  

He hums, not even looking down at you. “Told you to be patient.” 

You’re about to respond—tell him to fuck his patience and virtues—when your hand finds purchase on his body. It finds a very, um... hard part of his body. A particular part that you had in your mouth about five minutes ago. One that has his eyes widening and breath catching in his throat as you grip it ever so tighter and start stroking.  

You’ve reduced him to whimpers and moans in about two strokes and fuck does it feel good. To give him a taste of his own fucking medicine.  

“What was that about being patient, Stevie?” you taunt, rolling closer to his leaking cock and blowing a puff of warm air onto the tip. A full-body shudder rolls through him. “Not gonna let you come until you learn your lesson, Captain.” 

A moan slips out of Bucky as Steve’s fingers leave his mouth and slide into your hair, guiding your lips closer.  

“Hey, not fair,” Bucky whines from behind you, his hand shooting out to stop Steve’s movements. “Stevie, wait.” You strain your head up to watch the silent conversation happening between the two soldiers, lips parted in anticipation.  

Steve gives a quick nod to Bucky after a couple more seconds. “What—” you start, only to be cut off by Bucky scooping you up one handed and pressing your chest to his. “D’you trust us, doll?” he drawls, the gravel of his voice sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes flick between his, searching for some sort of answer within the piercing blue depths. “I- What’re you-” 

“Yes or no. Do you trust us?” 

You nod with no hesitation. “Yes. Yes, of course.” 

His lips spread into a grin. “Good. We’re gonna take care of you, okay? Promise.” 

Before you can utter a word, his lips crash into yours. Hot, swollen, and still salty with your slick. You gasp, but the breath is quickly swallowed by Bucky’s hunger. All you can do is submit. Let his lips, tongue, teeth take over. It sends your skin buzzing, pleasure singing through each nerve ending. Your hands card through his hair, the layered strands gliding smoothly through your fingers.  

He bucks his hips up, making you aware of his fully erect dick as it pokes your belly. “Bucky...” you manage to groan through kissing, the throbbing of your cunt getting harder to ignore. “Need... You... Fuck-” The brush of his chest against your hard nipples steals your breath away. “Bucky, please...”  

The kissing slows to a stop. “No, don’t... Didn’t say stop...” you pant, gripping his hair in desperation.  

Bucky brushes the hair away that fell into your eyes, the pads of his fingers dancing delicately over your skin. “Are you ready, baby? We’re gonna make you feel so good. Won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” 

A nod, your pussy clenching around the promise of satisfaction.  

“I need you to turn around for me, okay? Steve’s ready for you. Just gotta turn around.” 

You turn—knees and thighs shaking—until your body is facing Steve; he’s lying flat on his back, legs spread slightly, cock standing at attention, head propped up on his fist. You swallow at the sight of him, salivating at his perfectly sculpted muscles and aching at the thought of him filling you up.  

The corners of his lips tug up into a grin. “You’re staring, Poppy.” 

You bite your bottom lip and let out a breath. “Mmhmm...” 

He chuckles, like he can see the thoughts swirling in your mind. “Soon, darling.” 

“Still gotta get you ready, okay?” Bucky murmurs in your ear, dipping two fingers into your wet hole.  

“Buck!” you hiss, the cool bite of vibranium shocking your core. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” he coos, spreading the mess of your mixed release down lower to your other entrance.  

You suck in a sharp breath as his fingertip teases your tight hole, rubbing with a gentle but firm pressure, slicking it with a practiced ease. “B-B-Bucky...” you blabber as he continues to circle your tight, twitching rim.  

And then, his finger breaks through. 

You cry out, whole body jolting and trying to clamp down instinctively at the intrusion. “Breathe... I’ve got you, doll... Just relax...” Bucky works slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper. His flesh hand snakes around your ribcage and finds your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and finger, helping you relax around the sharp stretch. “That’s it, you’re doin’ so well, sweetheart. Just relax.”  

His finger works deeper, slowly pumping in and out, working more of his come into your ass to keep you slick and open. Your eyes roll back with each inch gained, eyelids fluttering and walls clenching around nothing. “I need- please, need more-” you gasp, voice trembling. A fog of pleasure rolls into your head, the lust and hunger for more pushing out all other thoughts.  

“D’you think you’re ready for me? Think you can take my cock now, huh?” You nod vigorously. “It’s gonna be bigger than one finger... You sure?” You moan as he slowly adds another finger, stretching you wider, and pumps deeper inside.  

“I think she’s ready, Buck,” Steve’s voice floats into your head, hoarse and impatient. “Bring her here already.” 

“Maybe Poppy’s right, Steve,” Bucky says, voice edged with a smirk. “Maybe you need to learn a lesson about patience.” 

“I’ll show you patience, jerk.” 

A laugh vibrates through Bucky’s chest. “Fine. But I’m not taking any blame if she’s not ready.” His fingers curl inside you, sending a shock up your spine and into your belly.  

Then, with controlled precision, Bucky slowly removes his fingers from your ass, listening to every whimper and moan it pulls from your mouth. “Just like that, baby...”  

You slump forward onto your hands and knees once his fingers exit completely; head hung between your shoulders as your breath returns to normal. 

“Let’s get you on Stevie now,” Bucky says as his hands grip your hips. “D’you need my help? Or can you get there yourself?” 

You lift your head up, the world spinning as you reorient yourself. Your vision steadies after another moment of deep breathing, sharpening the image of Steve fisting his own cock in lazy strokes.  

“Lemme help, baby,” Bucky purrs into your ear. “You don’t have to move a muscle, okay?” He lifts you up by the hips, closing the short distance to Steve.  

They guide you together, Bucky lowering you down slowly while Steve angles his cock to your entrance. A small whimper escapes your lips as the first stretch of his tip slides in, while a deep groan rips out of Steve’s throat.  

“Fuck, Poppy,” Steve rasps out. “H-How are you still so tight even after Buck...” 

“Make sure to relax, doll...” Bucky murmurs against your cheek. “We’ll go slow, but I need you to relax.” 

You nod, unable to think as they help you sink down onto Steve’s cock, your walls fluttering around each inch.  

Once every inch of Steve is sheathed deep inside of you, your head rests against Bucky’s shoulder, grounding yourself on the solidness of his shoulder. “Such a good girl,” Bucky praises, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna take what we give you, huh?” 

Steve starts thrusting up into you—a slow, steady rhythm that has you shoving your hand into Bucky’s hair and gripping onto the roots, body trembling with overstimulation.  

“You’re takin’ it so good, baby...” Bucky hums into your neck, rewarding you with a trail of gentle sucks and forming bruises. You moan at each one, back arching as his teeth nibble your skin.  

The tempo of Steve’s rhythm increases, a steady accelerando that has your mind slipping, your thoughts losing any sort of substance, only able to focus on the building melody of your orgasm. Each thrust a sharp staccato hitting deeper and brushing against that spot that makes your skin sing. Steve’s deep grunts balanced with your soft gasps to create the perfect dynamic contrast.  

This symphony of bliss envelopes you completely, distracting you from Bucky slipping out of your grasp and lining up behind you. It distracts you from feeling Steve’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open. It's not until the thick, spongey head of Bucky’s cock presses against the one spot you’ve always kept off limits that the music cuts off.  

The first inch slides in slowly, delicately, but still steals your breath away.  

“Oh, fuck- Bucky, I can’t-” you gasp, your muscles seizing up in panic. When he asked if you were ready to take his cock, you didn’t think it’d be like this. You didn’t think Steve would be filling you up at the same time. “Too much-” 

Two fingers roll over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure that soothes the resistance.  

“That’s it, doll... Relax for me,” Bucky coaxes, sinking in with each circle pressed to your clit. “You’re almost there.” 

A sob breaks from your throat, your entire body quivering around them as Bucky sinks deeper, testing the limits of the thin wall between your holes with every inch.  

“Poppy...” Steve moans, his hands cupping your breasts again, running his thumbs over your taut nipples. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this... So fucking beautiful with both our cocks in you...” 

You can’t speak. Not with Steve filling your pussy and Bucky stretching your ass open inch by inch. Not with Steve pinching your nipples and Bucky increasing the pressure on your clit. You’re overwhelmed. Overstimulated. Filled to the brim with super soldier dick. The neurons in your brain firing too fast or not fast enough—you’re not sure.  

“Steve- Buck- I'm gonna- You're so-” 

Your orgasm builds to a crescendo, each pant increasing in pitch and volume until reaching the final chord. The band in your core snaps, releasing wave after wave of pleasure throughout your body, taking the reins of your senses—blood rushing in your ears, eyes squeezed shut, and skin on fire. Your walls clench around both Steve and Bucky, sucking in their cocks even deeper than before, pulling unison moans from their mouths.  

You slump against Bucky’s chest with a final sigh, panting and sweating and utterly spent. You’re trembling, still twitching around them as the aftershocks linger in your body.  

“Such a good girl, Poppy,” Bucky rasps, voice low and reverent. “Can you do it again? Can you give us one more?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening at the thought of coming again. “M-More?” 

“Yes, baby. Just one more.” His fingers brush over your abused, swollen clit, causing an involuntary twitch of your muscles.  

You shake your head. “I- I can’t...” 

“I know you can, doll. You’re already doin’ such a good job for us...” His hips thrust up slowly, snapping your awareness back to the almost impossible stretch of his cock in your ass.  

Bucky’s thrusts set off a chain reaction, a silent signal sent to Steve for him to start thrusting up into your pussy. “Oh, fuck!” you shriek, clenching around them again. “Fuck, I don’t- Can’t-”  Steve’s hands grip your hips—steady and possessive—helping you relax into the rhythm of their thrusts. Your sharp gasps melt into slurred moans with each rock of their hips.  

“That’s it,” Steve praises, the jerking of his hips turning more erratic. “You feel so fucking good like this... You and Buck on top of me...” 

The combination of their pace—Steve’s fast and sharp; Bucky’s slow and grinding—has you teetering toward the edge already, the drag against that thin wall rendering you speechless.  

“Fuck, Stevie, I can feel you through her...” Bucky moans into your ear. “I- Fuck, I’m close. The way you both move like that...” 

“That’s it, Buck,” Steve grunts, his pace becoming messier with each thrust. “You feel me? You feel the way she squeezes around me?” 

Bucky nods, the rough scruff of his beard against your cheek amplified by your overstimulated nerve endings. “She’s grippin’ me back here too...”  

Bucky’s thrusts grow needy as your walls grip and clench and squeeze them, your hips grinding into them on pure instinct as your core grows tighter with heat. All thoughts of holding back are gone and replaced with how good this feels. The twitches of pleasure, the complete and utter fullness of Steve and Bucky, the pistoning rhythm of their hips.  

You paw at Steve’s chest, your fingernails digging into his sweaty and flushed skin. “Oh, God- Oh, fuck-” you stutter, trembling as the promise of release edges closer and closer. “I’m- so- fuck!” Your orgasm rips through you with a sob, your face scrunching with pleasure. You’re clawing at Steve now, gripping him as your walls flutter around him and Bucky, milking them relentlessly.  

They don’t stop. They’re pounding into you harder, rougher, deeper. Bucky is muttering curses into your ear cushioned between breaths of praise. Steve’s moans grow louder, competing with the slap of skin on skin. Your cunt is soaking, gushing around Steve’s cock and sliding down to meet Bucky’s.  

“Almost there, baby,” Bucky rasps, his sharp pants blowing hot onto your ear. You barely register what he says as your head spins in a dizzy rhythm. All you can do is exist between them. Take what they give you. Let them use you in whatever way they need.  

Then—after what feels like hours of them stretching you out—they come. Bucky first, his groan muffled into your shoulder. Then Steve, his hands anchored onto your hips as he spills inside you with a strangled moan.  

You collapse onto Bucky’s chest, limbs going slack against his solid frame. You don’t try to move. It’s no use. They had drained all the energy out of you, leaving only the hum of satisfaction and overstimulation.  

Your skin is still buzzing as they slowly pull out of you. You whine, squirming as your walls contract back to normal, the loss of heat and stretch leaving you empty and sore. 

Gentle hands lower you down, your head sinking into a downy pillow. You sigh, your muscles relaxing into the plush mattress.  

Another set of hands brush away the hair sticking to your face. “You did such a good job for us,” Steve murmurs, kissing your forehead. “So perfect...” 

You groan softly, blinking up at him. “Steve...” 

“Shh, sweetheart. Just relax, okay? Buck’s gettin’ you some water. I’ve got you.”  

He slides next to you on the bed, his body curling around you in a blanket of warmth. He runs his fingertips over your arm, caressing your skin in a slow, lazy pattern, and you can’t help but melt against him.  

Before you know it, Steve is helping you sit up, guiding you toward the glass in Bucky’s hand. Your lips quiver around the glass until a hand supports your chin, easing the cool liquid down your throat.  

“That’s it, doll. Take as much as you want,” Bucky says, running his thumb over your chin. You finish the glass quickly, each gulp clearing away the fog in your head.  

“Thanks...” you breathe as he moves the glass from your lips and hands it to Steve.  

He smiles. “I told you we’d take care of you. Don’t move a muscle.” He reaches toward the foot of the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth. “Lay her back, Stevie. Gotta clean her up.” 

Steve obeys, laying you down half on his body and half on the bed. You melt into his skin again, relishing his body heat as the biting cold of the washcloth between your legs sends you shivering. Bucky wipes you down gently, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.  

“Bucky...” you whimper as he swipes the cloth over your folds. A finger sneaks up to press over your clit, your whole body jolting in response. “Too much...” 

“’M sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “Got distracted by how beautiful you look... Wanna make you feel good.” 

Steve hooks his foot under Bucky’s thigh. “You can make her feel good up here, sweetheart.” 

“Alright, alright. Lemme finish up here.”  

Steve chuckles and plants soft, slow kisses into your hair. “Gorgeous,” he whispers. “Stunning.” Kiss. “Exquisite.” Kiss. “Breathtaking.” Kiss. 

Each word that he presses into your skin sounds like a prayer, like an undeniable truth that he won’t stop whispering until you believe him.  

“Steve...” You rest your hand on his hip. “What’re you doing?” 

“Just sayin’ what I’m thinkin’...” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.  

You smile and squeeze the muscle of his hip gently. “Dork.” 

“What’d Steve do now?” Bucky asks as he slides up next to you in the bed, his flesh arm draping over both you and Steve.  

You snuggle into Bucky’s chest, your hand leaving Steve’s hip and resting it over Bucky’s heart. “Just being a sappy dork.” 

“I’m not sappy-” Steve starts, spooning you properly now that Bucky didn’t need you flat.  

“Sorry, pal. I’m gonna take Poppy’s side on this one.” 

“Unbelievable. I’ve known you for how many years-” 

Your ears prick up at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Bucky and Steve stop their bickering, hearing it before you do.  

You freeze, holding your breath as the footsteps shuffle past. Steve and Bucky are silent beside you, plunging the entire bedroom into silence besides the beating of your hearts.  

Everyone was outside. You’d made sure of it before the three of you left the beach. There’s Tony, Clint, Natasha, Bruce- 

Your eyes widen and look at Bucky, his mirroring your own.  

he sounds so earnest; there’s no way he truly thinks porn is real, right? you can’t take him and you’re unsure how else to convince him of that. “i can’t! jakey, you’re not listeni — fuck! oh god, stopstop.”

it feels like you’re being split in two, tiny pussy stretched beyond it’s limits despite your pleas for jake to fucking stop as he forces the blunt head of his fat cock inside; just the tip and it’s already too much, your inner walls spasming and clenching around him, eyes squeezed tightly because it hurts so bad and he hasn’t even filled you up completely yet.

jake stops once his cockhead slips in, afraid to cum before he’s had the chance to properly fuck you, nostrils flaring while he tries to hold off his orgasm, dick pulsing and his balls tight, more and more precum drooling from his slit and wetting your hole, teeth sinking into his lip so hard the soft skin breaks, the taste of blood bringing him back to his senses.

you feel so good wrapped around him n he cant help but continue to sheath himself in your pussy, pressing his hips forward and groaning as his cock bullies its way into you, inch after inch causing you to let out pained cries that make his chest ache but he can’t stop, not until you’re stuffed full of his thick cum.

you’re hitting him now, throwing your fists at his chest in a weak attempt to get him off, full on sobs making the guilt he felt a second ago shift into something meaner.

“you’re fucking weak,” he spits, and gone is your sweet boyfriend. you don’t recognize the man above you. “y’wanna cry so bad, i’ll give you something to cry about, whore.”

jake’s earlier fear of cumming too soon is long forgotten; he catches your hands when you go to strike him again and pins them to the mattress before slamming his hips against yours, remaining inches now fully inside and you can feel him snug against your cervix, prodding at the entrance of your womb.

he doesn’t give you a chance to at least try accomodating to the discomfort, setting a brutal pace immediately, headboard knocking against the wall as his cock ruins you, hurts you, violates you.

you don’t want this anymore, so why is he continuing this torment?

jake believes you were made for him, for his cock. it shouldn’t hurt.. you’re lying. you have to be. it’s supposed to feel good. crocodile tears and yelps wont change his mind. you’re his little plaything. his pocket pussy. he’ll only get better at fucking you with practice, so he’ll use you whenever and however he wants.

you can’t do anything except let him have his way with you, too tired to continue fighting him, but just coherent enough to try convincing him with your words.

your voice is strained, throat raw but you ignore the soreness and attempt to speak through whines. “jake, y’gotta stop. i don’t — oh god — don’t want this. y’know what the means don’t you? this is…”

tears blur your vision.

“this is what, huh? ‘s rape? is that what you were gonna say?” the condescending tone like a knife to your heart. “you’re such a fuckin’ dummy — hah fuck, so tight —” he groans. “this isn’t rape. you like it, i know you do. your pussy’s so tight, so fucking wet, all for me.”

your face crumples at his words; there really is no getting through to him.

jake continues to abuse your poor, sensitive cunt. it’s sickening how every brutal thrust allows for his cock to kiss the opening of your uterus, his balls slapping your ass creating an audible plap, plap, plap that makes you cringe and your hole gushes, drenching the sheets with your combined juices; the realization that you’re wet makes you wonder… was jake right? do you like this? it’s too much for you to process, body beginning to go limp beneath him.

“stay with me,” barks jake, clapping his palm against your cheek, “‘m not — fuck! — done, haven’t even cum yet. can’t pass out on me, i won’t let you.”

as if to prove his point, jake speeds up the pace, driving his length so deep it’s agonizing. “pretty pussy gripped me even tighter when i did this,” he backhands you this time and again, your walls contract, squeezing him so tight it makes him think you don’t wanna let go.

“are you a..” he starts, wracking his brain for the word used in a particularly violent porn clip he saw, split lip reopening when he smiles, “are you a painslut? like bein’ fucked open and slapped around, hm?”

you shake your head in denial, but jake’s having none of it. “yeah you fucking do, slut. say it. tell me you like this or i’ll do so much worse.”

“y-yes!” you all but scream, “yes i like it, jakey. i like it, i do, i do, i do! j-jus’ cum, ‘kay? fill me up, do it!”

god, jake really is stupid. you’re only agreeing and urging him to cum to get this over with but he seems to think you actually want him to cream your insides.

maybe you really do; if the way you wrap your legs around him are any indication.

his orgasm’s building with every drag of his impossibly thick cock, your body surrendering to him, forcibly used for his own pleasure and he presses his mouth to yours, his eyes shutting as your lips meet, your own wide open due to the taste of iron flooding your senses, a mess of spit and jake’s blood smearing onto your skin

he humps at you like a dog; desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated.

and although you hate to admit it, you can feel your own impending climax, not quite there but close. you need more; you need — oh fuck.

jake stills once he’s fucked into your womb, ropes of his thick, sticky cum painting you white and there’s so much, it feels neverending; despite the pain, despite the rough treatment you received and despite the fact that he did all of this without your consent; you cum.

you clamp around him tighter, if that were even possible, and pleasure makes your mind go blank. you try to block him out, unable to believe he did this and the fact that you came, but he makes it impossible.

how are you supposed to ignore jaeyun when two of his thick fingers join his cock inside of you after catching the globs of sperm that have dribbled out of you.

The manor had never been a home. Not truly.

Its towering halls echoed with silence, its antique chandeliers glinting like frozen stars, untouchable and cold. You’d tried, in the beginning, to warm it—fresh flowers in the vases, candles lit at dinner, even soft music playing in the background some evenings.

But Bruce never noticed.

He came and went like a ghost—impeccable in tailored suits and always busy. And when he did speak to you, it was clipped, distant. A nod. A thank you. A hum of acknowledgment as he passed you in the corridor, the same way one might regard an acquaintance and not someone they chose to bind themselves to.

You’d grown used to the solitude. Learned to fill it with books, walks through the garden, dinners eaten in silence. On rare occasions, Alfred would try to bridge the gap, lingering just a moment longer in the room, a small reassurance here and there trying to cover up for his master, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in his eyes every time he saw the way Bruce treated you.

You were a Wayne by name only.

And maybe that would’ve been enough. Maybe you would’ve endured it forever—the cold bed, the colder stares, the knowledge that this union was forged for reputation and power, not love.

But deep inside you felt that hollow aching loneliness, the insecurity of wondering why you weren’t enough. You always dreamed of a love that would consume you, of freedom and adventure. You never thought this might be your life, you played your part well but the posh dresses, the pearls, everything that came with being Bruce Wayne’s wife felt like a cage. 

You never wanted his money, in fact you never even took a penny from him, you were wealthy in your own name. You married him because it was arranged yet you had hoped the two of you could find some middle ground or at least be amicable yet he never even tried.

You he had secrets and you tried to respect it. But there was no mistaking the way he seemed to sneak out in the middle of the night, doing god knows what. How he always seemed too tired or too busy to even attend important functions and meeting, always leaving them to you.

It seemed you finally got your answer. It was late when you returned from the charity gala. You hadn’t expected him to come—he rarely did. But the photographers had still clamoured for pictures, still whispered about Bruce Wayne’s wife, wondering if the man even remembered he had one. 

You tried to ignore the humiliation but sometimes it became too much, like tonight, and you found yourself sneaking away early.

The silence greeted you first when you returned to the manor. Then the soft creak of the stairs under your heels.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar.

At first, it was the flicker of candlelight you noticed. Then the shadow on the wall—two forms, tangled together. And then the soft, breathy laugh. Familiar.

Selina Kyle.

Your throat closed. You stepped closer, silent as a ghost. Your eyes met the scene and for a second, you didn’t breathe. Her mouth was against his neck, one leg hooked over his hip, sheets disheveled. The way she touched him, kissed him, it was clear she knew his body intimately and that this wasn’t the first time.

His hands were on her. His eyes—those usually cold, unreadable eyes—closed with pleasure.

The sound you made must have been small, but it was enough. Bruce’s head snapped up. Selina glanced over her shoulder, entirely unfazed.

You stood in the doorway, lips parted, frozen. Your body refused to move. Your mind, however, was screaming.

A year.

A year of silence and patience and pretending that the chill in his eyes didn’t hurt you. That his absence at every dinner, every event, every attempt you made to be more than a burden, didn’t pierce straight through your ribs.

And this was what he gave you in return.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at you like you were the one who’d intruded. Selina at least had the decency to look like she felt at least a little guilty but you didn’t want nor need her pity

It was the silence that broke you more than the act.

Not even the decency to lie.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Your gaze flicked from him to Selina then back to him. You tilted your head. “I hope she was worth it.”

Then you turned. Trying to keep the calm and controlled facade, even as the world crumbled around you.

You didn’t look back.

Not even when he called out your name. You’d done everything to keep your sham of a marriage together and you were done.

And for the first time in a year, you were the one who walked away.

You hadn’t even bothered to grab your stuff, you were still in your gala dress as you grabbed the keys to your car, getting ready to get as far away as you could from this place.

“Madame, I’m sure—“ Alfred tried to do as he always did and make it better but for once you were in no mood to listen.

“I don’t care.” You cut off not harshly but firmly. “He’d made it clear since the beginning that he didn’t want this marriage, no matter how hard I tried. I’m done, Alfred. I have more self respect than to stay and continue trying with a man who clearly doesn’t want me and doesn’t respect me. I deserve someone who does,” you finished, voice low but steady, the final word catching ever so slightly on your tongue.

Alfred stood there in the entryway, a halo of warm light behind him, his face drawn with quiet sorrow. He didn’t argue. He only bowed his head slightly in acceptance because what could he say? You were right. You deserved more.

“I’ll have someone collect your things,” Alfred said softly, after a long moment. His voice, always composed, was tinged with quiet regret. “Where should I have them sent?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t know—but because saying it aloud made it real.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” you murmured.

He gave a nod, the smallest motion. And though he was just the butler to some, to you, he had always been the one constant in that frozen palace of a home.

You offered him a faint, grateful smile.

“Thank you… for being the only one who ever treated me like I mattered.”

That got him. His throat bobbed slightly, and he looked away, just for a second—composing himself as always. But when he met your gaze again, there was nothing but pride and sorrow in his eyes.

“You always did,” he said. “He was simply too blind to see it.”

You nodded once, then turned on your heel. The dress rustled around your legs as you moved down the steps. You were still in heels. Still in diamonds. Still wearing the same red lipstick he hadn’t once complimented.

You slipped into the driver’s seat of the black car—the one you’d always parked at the edge of the Wayne fleet, never quite part of the collection.

The door shut with a soft click.

And for the first time in a year, you didn’t look up at the manor as you drove away. You didn’t wonder if he’d come after you.

Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

Even if he did, It no longer mattered.

The city blurred past your windows in streaks of gold and steel. Gotham’s skyline loomed like jagged teeth against the night, familiar and yet cold—just like everything else lately. The gala dress clung uncomfortably to your skin now, a mocking reminder of the life you’d just walked away from.

You tightened your grip on the wheel, trying to breathe through the storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, grief—all coiled in your chest like a venomous thing. But at least you were free now.

Free from him. Free from the expectations that came to being married to him. 

The light ahead flickered from yellow to red. You slowed, fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel, when—

BANG.

The car jolted with a deafening metallic crash. Your head snapped forward as the vehicle was rammed from behind. Airbags didn’t deploy. Your foot slammed on the brakes, tires skidding—but it was too late. A second hit came, this time from the side, and the world tilted as your car spun across the wet street and slammed into a lamppost.

Smoke hissed from the engine. Your ears rang.

You tried to move—unbuckle your seatbelt, reach for your phone—but the driver’s side door was ripped clean off.

A hand reached in—gloved, pale, too fast.

Before you could scream, a needle jabbed into your neck. Cold fire rushed through your veins, and the world slipped sideways.

Voices echoed. Laughter.

A man’s voice, high-pitched and giddy, like a child who’d just unwrapped a present he wasn’t supposed to have.

“Well, well, Mrs. Wayne. What a delicious little surprise.”

You tried to focus through the haze, your limbs too heavy to fight. The world went dark and spinning, but not before you saw a flash of white skin, a grin painted in what looked like blood, and eyes that burned with manic delight.

The Joker.

Mmm... now what did his best friend say about you? "Oh Satoru, I know a babysitter that you and the kids will just adore. She's a real sweetheart."

A sweetheart... uh, yeah, well Suguru didn't warn him about the fact you had a thing for dads. Didn't warn him that you might be crazy. Touch-starved. A way too horny and provocative twenty-something year old virgin.

Maybe Suguru didn't even see this side of you... maybe it was just Satoru that you were throwing yourself at. Surely Suguru would have told him all about a heated affair that he had with a babysitter... right? Or was he the only daddy that you fantasized about fucking your pretty brains out?

Just the thought of that being true made his ego swell and his blood rush down to his heavy cock. He loved thinking about the obvious fact that you laid in bed touching your pussy to the thought of him.

He endured your flirting. Held his hands behind his back. Bit his tongue. Told himself that he can't make out with his hot babysitter on a random Sunday afternoon, as much as he wanted to, because that was diabolical.

You were sitting on the couch alone some nights, ensuring his kids were entertained and fed and happy, while he was at work. You watched their favorite cartoons until they felt drowsy and then you had to tuck 'em into bed and read three separate bed time stories for each of them because Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara all liked different stories.

It was exhausting, but such a joy to babysit such sweethearts.

After they fell asleep, you'd wander a lonely path back downstairs and look at the time — 8:45 PM — then yawn big and snuggle up on the couch and... wait. And wait. Anddd... wait.

Satoru would always come home late from work.

You'd hear the click of the front door and have an almost Pavlovian reaction. Oh, daddy's home.

You'd strain your ears to hear his footsteps as he walked down the hall, hear the satin hiss of his loosening tie, the sound sparking your over-active imagination. And, pushing a stressed-out sigh past his lips, Satoru would walk into the living room to see you looking drowsy and messy after a long day of taking care of his three kids.

And it's that messy sight of you which made something click in Satoru's mind. That's what really sold him on you. Sure, you were a crazy hot mess... but you had this undeniable motherly quality about you that just made him wonder.

What if he gave you his babies?

Shit. Sorry. Random Friday night thoughts. Forgive him. He's been working at a desk all day and now he's feelin' a bit woozy.

He looked at you, mumbled a sweet but gruff "Hey." and then took a seat right next to you on the TV-lit couch. He sat a respectable distance away from you at first... but then, uh, the next second you had already scooched over to his side until you two were almost pressing thigh against thigh.

Exhausted. Apprehensive at how close his flirty babysitter liked to sit next to him, while at the same time getting half-hard at the thought of tearing off your tiny clothes and showing you just how frustrated a tease like you makes him. Satoru sat and endured.

Underneath all that teenage-like sexual tension, he was feeling welcomed home by you. He almost forgot how nice it felt to have someone waiting up for him.

"So, how was work?" you asked.

He grumbled. He sighed. He was half-hard and full-frustrated. No one had asked him that question in a long time in such a caring voice that it actually tugged at his heartstrings a bit. Just a bit.

"It was... um, yeah... like any other day. Long and hard."

"Long and hard..." you nodded, trailing off and letting the innuendo fill the air.

He gave you a look.

"Exactly how long and hard?" you asked.

He couldn't believe that your stupid jokes like that made him chuckle. And what a sight his smile was; his dimples, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners, making the slightest age lines appear on his pale face.

"Ah, finally I got a smile out of you."

"And that's the only one you're getting." he shook his head.

Satoru brought his big hand to massage his shoulder, letting out a tense groan from his thought.

Oh, the pitiful look that you gave him made him wanna crawl onto your lap and weep. He'd worked so hard all week with scarce breaks, and all he wanted was a sweet, soft woman to lay upon, to be loved by, to fuck stupid, to use like a good stress-relieving fleshlight — ya know? Just a nice way to wrap up a hard week.

"You..." you began, pressing one long decorated nail into his firm pecs, "... look like you're in desperate need of a massage."

"Ahah... no, no..."

He stuttered, smiled a big toothy smile that made you wanna bite him. God, he really looked like that old photo of himself right then — that one you stole, remember? His graduation photo. He just looked too hot and you had to have a memento of him for your memory box.

Shit. You were crazy.

Satoru had no fucking idea whether you were making a dirty suggestion or just genuinely offering him a massage.

Either way, the thought of your hands on him got the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Though the rational side of his brain was telling him to refuse your offer, the ghost of the crazed fuckboy that he used to be forced him to accept — like, fuck, what kind of idiot would you be if you refused a pretty girl to work her hands on you, Satoru? Don't put your past self to shame, he thought, you're only gonna get older one day and then that thing ain't even gonna sit up like a good boy without some treats... yeah... that's right... you're gonna be real fucking old one day, Satoru... think about it...

"You know what, actually...? Yeah, I'd love one... but you better be good." he said in a low rasp.

"Oh, don't worry — I'm the best." you grinned like a sweet little devil.

I'll fucking bet you are, cheeky slut, he thought.

He looked like he was holding back all his raw lust. Like if you said just one more thing like that then he would tear your clothes right off your slutty little body and fuck you until every thought flew out of your head except for thoughts of him.

****

Yeah, that martial artist discipline of his really came in handy once you started massaging his shoulders and back. If he hadn't been so strict on himself, he would have...

"Gosh, you're sooo tense, Mr. Gojo... relax."

... I need to fuck her brains out. That's the first thought that he had to push out of his head.

"... let me take the weight of your shoulders..." you nearly whispered, working your hands into his meaty muscle.

Ooh he slipped, he totally gave in.

"Mmm..." he let out a purring moan, feeling the pressure of your fingertips sink into his sore muscles. "That feels good... keep going."

You were trying to keep it cool and professional... er, as professional as you could with your hands exploring Gojo Satoru's muscular back.

Having the lights down low didn't help much. Everything was turning you on. Your clit was already buzzing and begging for attention from behind your thin panties.

This was babymaking atmosphere.

You were going insane, soaking your panties and twitching 'cause you've got a hot dad groaning under your touch.

"Y' can go a little harder..." he muttered in a rough voice.

"M'kay..."

"Mmm..." he let out that purring moan again, this time stretching it out.

Something was so erotic about giving him a massage, even though it wasn't supposed to be — uh, it really wasn't supposed to be, right? Right? It's not like you planned this out all night, not like you were scheming while watching cartoons and waiting for Gojo Satoru to come home.

Ah c'mon... he's an overworked man in need of a massage. Just listen to him, he's moaning like he's — oh, he's closing his eyes, too? He must be really feeling it. His breath is becoming choppy, too.

"Just a bit more..."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... just like that."

His mouth hung open in bliss. He squirmed a little. Shit... he could feel himself throbbing. Even slightest friction of his pants shifting along his painfully hard cock was already intense enough to make him clench his jaw.

You smirked, catching a delicious glimpse of the prominent outline of his bulging cock right before he instinctively covered it up with a pillow.

Damn, how does he keep such a monster hidden under such thin dress pants?

Sticking your tongue out in focus as you deliberately massage a spot on his back that makes him moan out the most, Satoru rolls his eyes back and dies a little orgasmic death.

"Yeah... th-that's it... right there... right there... you can go harder."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... good g- uhhh, th-that's good." he purred, holding back his tongue just in time because oops, he almost called you a good girl without even thinking.

Oh, that pillow coverage sure helped to keep his boner out of sight but then he had a new problem... the pleasurable friction of the pillow and the fact his stubborn hips liked to move on their own.

Without trying to make it obvious, he was getting off with the pillow, shifting it as inconspicuously as he could but he just couldn't get enough friction — shit, when was the last time that he was so horny he could even enjoy fucking a pillow? It was insane how hard he was, how much his cock oozed sticky precum, how every inch stood at attention asking politely to stretch out some good babysitter pussy.

He shut his pretty blue eyes when started feeling reaaally good. Like, god, he needed this more than he needed air. It was such a shit day at work, but now all the stress that he had built up throughout the day just melted away with each subtle thrust of his bulge into the pillow, and your soft hands digging into his muscular back.

I wanna fuck her so bad.

"Uhhh, fuckkkkkkk...!" he let out a broken moan.

You stopped massaging his back, eyes blown wide open, trying to hold back your shock and snickering. He had worked up a subtle sweat. His muscles were twitching. He was gasping. It was so obvious to you what had just happened.

"Mister?"

"Huh?" he blinked the stars out of his eyes, coming-to as if his orgasm knocked him out for a second.

"Are you okay...?"

He opened his eyes and... oh, there was a wet patch on his dress pants where he just came. Oops. A little massaging and pillow-fucking and he came all over his thigh? Well, that had never happened before. Guess his cock was just super sensitive after not having sex for so long — but you didn't hear that from me...

Satoru gulped. He abruptly stood up, acting as nervous as a bird, "Um, uh... it's late, isn't it? I've gotta drive you home..."

"Aw, okay." you frowned at him, wiggling your hips like you were expecting more.

And he looked at your wiggling hips, your slightly spread apart legs, and then he let a nasty thought pass his mind, and nearly caved and asked you if you wanted to...

****

God, you had your legs apart and he could smell your ovulation. No no, don't call him crazy. He could smell it.

And as he went upstairs to wipe the cum off his inner thighs and change into new pants, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you must have been soaked. You must have had the prettiest pussy ever.

Oh, he threw his head back and groaned when he met you back downstairs because while he tried acting professional, now you were all worked up and in an outrageously flirty mood.

You were about to say something outrageous again but he stopped you dead on your tracks.

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Let's go." he said, grabbing his keys.

You saluted him playfully, "Yes, daddy."

He did a double take. "What?"

"Nothing." you smiled innocently.

His eyes caught yours, then he rubbed his cheek like he was stressed out.

It was really obvious why he liked you, but Satoru was aching to ask why on earth you like him so much.

Didn't you think he was an egotistical asshole? That's how his ex-wife described him, anyways.

*****

"So you're a Sagittarius, huh?" you ask, little voice dripping in sultriness and setting off alarm bells in the fuckboy side of his mind. "That's hot."

"Uh-huh."

He's driving you home. 60 mph. Switching lanes. Bright blue eyes blind-spotting to the left. Next they're side-eyeing you. Catching on your pretty baby angel face. Trying to keep it together, but his cock is starting to make a bulge in his pants again. Something you've discovered is that the poor man doesn't even change out of his suit most days; when he comes home he just faceplants into bed and falls asleep.

"A december baby?"

"Yup. December seventh." he replies curtly.

Relax, Satoru. It's just conversation. Just innocent, professional conversation with the babysitter who just witnessed you fucking a pillow and cumming in your pants.

After a steadying inhale, he politely returns the question, "What about you? When's your birthday?"

Satoru pays you a brief glance before bringing his gaze back to the speedometer. 50 mph.

Just that one question turns into a deep exploration of your psyche.

"... I just don't like guys my age... like, god, they don't even turn me on anymore."

You give a dramatic pause before looking at him with a nympho fire in your eyes.

"Hey, you're an old man — got any sage advice for me?"

"Hey, who you callin' an old man?"

"Sorryyy, I'm just being cheeky."

"I can tell."

"Sooo... what's your advice?"

Satoru furrows his brows. "For what?"

"For getting older guys to pay one small glance to a sweet girl like me?"

He tenses up and doesn't reply.

You're insane. Worse, you're even more insane than he was when he was your age.

His cock is throbbing against his inner thigh. Again. Precum. Everywhere. How dare you? He's in-between throttling you and stopping off on the side of the highway to bend you over his car's hood to show you he ain't no old man. What a cheek...

"This is your turnoff, isn't it?"

"... yeah."

You watch him flick on the turn signal. You catch his eyes just before he blind-spots again.

As he's pulling off the highway, you pull a dumb joke out of your brain, eager to get a response from him.

"It's my turnoff. But ya wanna know my turn-on?"

"..." he doesn't reply, just gives you a look, then tears his eyes off you and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

"C'mon." you encourage, "You're so uptight; let me humor you a little."

"I'm pretty sure I can guess your turn-on."

You tilt your head at him expectantly. He purses his lips. Drives down your street. Pulls into your driveway. Parks. Unbuckles his seatbelt with a tantalizing slowness that sparks your imagination — d'you wonder if he unbuckles his belt that slowly, too?

Satoru offers one lazy guess. "Older men?"

"Bingo!"

He stifles a smile, shakes his head, thinks you're crazy, and then opens his car door and steps out, leaving you to giggle and unbuckle your seatbelt alone.

He swerves 'round the hood of the car over to your side, and reappears at your window to open your door for you.

"Wow. Handsome and chivalrous? Why'd your wife let a gem like you go?"

"... that's not really any of your business."

"Aw, c'mon... I'm just dripping with curiosity."

He doesn't reply again, just walks you silently to your front door. His heart is beating faster as he eyes out the curve of your ass. That tight sundress shows just the faintest hint of a thong underneath.

Just a thin sundress? A tiny thong underneath? God you're so fuckable, he thinks. So, so fuckable. And the worst part is that you're one of the girls who knows you're hot. That's why you bounce around in front of men like him like you're a reckless bunny.

He's trying so hard to block out wild fantasies of ripping the fabric off your tight body and fucking you into a dumb, slutty mess.

Block it out, Satoru, block it out.

Finally, he replies to the question you posed earlier.

"I'm full of myself, apparently." he says bitterly.

"You're full of yourself?" you tilt your head, a light confusion glossing over your features.

He's so patient and fatherly to his kids; a jovial and wholesome man. I mean, he takes his kids to every place they wanna go, makes gingerbread houses with them in the festive season, plays pretend with them, sets up outdoor adventures in his backyard, gets dressed up in a ridiculous costume for Halloween and takes them out trick-or-treating every year without fail. For god's sake, he bought a hot pink set of baking cookware just because Nobara fancied herself a chef.

He gives his all to his kids, how could anyone think he's full of himself?

"... seems like your wife was wrong about you." you reply.

"Ex-wife. And nah, you'll probably agree with her if ya stick around me long enough — " he speaks self-deprecatingly of himself, but then you interrupt him.

"— mmm, if I stick around ya for to long... y'think I'll end up being full of you, too?"

He stutters. Blood rushes to his cock.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Satoru blinks at you in total disbelief. Again, an innocent face like you saying such outrageous shit is just insane to him.

"You've got a nasty conscience, you know that?"

"N'aw, don't mind me. I'm just having fun, being a little silly." you giggle, eyes all over him and his pretty, rideable face.

"Well, I wouldn't call flirting with older men being 'silly'..."

"And I wouldn't call pillow-fucking being 'professional'..."

Oh god. Oh my fucking god. He's breaking in two like a kitkat.

Satoru is rendered fucking silent. He's stunned. He's red.

"Goodnight." is all he replies with. And then he leaves. What the hell else is he supposed to say to that? You're crazy.

Now you got him all worked up and he doesn't know what to do. If younger Satoru knew that one day in his thirties he'd meet a slutty babysitter... oh, god. Younger Satoru would be pumping his fist in the air.

But he's gotta keep playing it cool, 'cause there's no way he can fuck his babysitter... there's NO way...

... so there he is that very night tucked in his black satin sheets, leaky cock in his fist and jaw slacked, face sweaty, fucking himself to supposedly real "I fucked my babysitter" erotica stories. No, he's not one for porn videos. He just wants to lay back and picture your pretty face with no disturbances. He just wants to lay wayyy back on his king-sized bed, fisting his cock with soft fwupfwupfwups while picturing his babysitter's pussy sitting pretty on him.

He groans at his dirty little fantasies as he slides his hand up and down his shaft, getting so lost in the idea of taking your virginity that he forgets all about the erotica story he's reading and jus' closes his eyes, head thunking back against the headboard in bliss and cock dripping like a leaky faucet, practically drooling all over his lower abdomen.

"Good girl; take it all, just like that..." he mutters.

He slides his thumb over his leaky tip and holds it over the hole, smearing precum everywhere as it oozes out, getting his cock wetter before going back to stroking it at a steady speed. His breath gets ragged as he lures his orgasm out.

He's never met a virgin as slutty as you before, that's for sure.

Shit, he really shouldn't be thinking about fucking his babysitter. He really shouldn't tease his cock to thoughts of taking your virginity. It shouldn't bring on his orgasm to picture you trapped underneath his heavy muscles, cumming all over his mature cock.

"... ugh!" he moans out, shifting down the headboard and curling his toes. "Fuck! Fuck... oh, shit, baby..."

Just like that, his jaw slacks in pleasure 'n his cock shoots out thick ribbons of cum and he's creaming all inside you — oh, sorry. That was just in his fantasies.

In reality, he's just cum all over his abs and chest. It shot up so high that it almost reached his neck.

He pants and looks down at the wasted seed that he coulda pumped inside you.

Groaning as he comes down from his high, Satoru lays with his long legs spread out on his bed for a while and curses himself for thinking of fucking his babysitter.

And then he starts weighing the pros and cons of actually doing it.

Yeah, he stares up at the ceiling after jerking off for like thirty minutes, cum splattered on his abs, thinking about how bad of an idea it would be to actually fuck his slutty babysitter.

No, Satoru. You can't. Absolutely no — no fucking the babysitter. Satoru? Bad boy. Don't do it. I know she's fuckable but you cannot fuck your —

****

— so like a week later, he's spreading your legs and crawling inbetween them.

He's placing rough kisses against your lips like he's almost angry about being this horny.

"Nn!" you whine, feeling his fingertips press against your clothed pussy, pushing against your entrance.

"Aw, you're soakin' your panties just from a little bit of kissing? Aren't you cute." he murmurs on your skin.

"Sh-shut up and fuck me... I can't take this teasing." you spit back, pulling him back into a rough kiss.

He chuckles into your mouth, tongue slithering over yours and tangling up with it for a few seconds before he pipes up;

"I'm just getting back at you for all the teasing I endured from your slutty ass."

Biting your lip. Pulling away. Letting out a purely erotic noise. Sliding his big hands down your sides and gripping you like you're his woman.

Oh now your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Let's get you nice and ready for me, hm?" he husks, lips dangerously close to your clothed pussy.

Oh now your heart rate spikes to an alarming rate. Fuck. You're actually doing it. You're actually gonna fuck an older guy.

He plants a rough kiss on top of your pussy, chin pressing against your buzzy clit.

"Mm...!" you press your lips together, trying to keep some sort of composure but you can't 'cause you've got Gojo Satoru between your legs — who the hell would be able to stay composed in your position?

Damn, it drives him crazy when your inner thighs graze the sides of his cheeks. You're ruffling up his hair. He's going down on you.

A moment later, he's pushing your panties aside and lapping at your pussy. Another moment later, he's curling his tongue up inside you.

"Oh my god th-that feels good..." you gasp, feeling his slippery tongue writhe inside.

"Mmm, I know it does."

He feels smug hearing this, pressing an open-mouthed smile against your pussy lips as he sticks his tongue as deep into you as he can possibly go, eyeing your blissed-out expressions. Sliding his tongue out, spitting on your pussy, rubbing sloppy frantic circles on your clit, Satoru's acting like a total show off.

It makes you hide your face between your palms.

"Ah-ah-ah... I want you to watch." he growls, "Don't you dare take your eyes off me, m'kay? That's a good girl."

Tip of his nose nudging your clit as he tongue-fucks you into hazy bliss, you're moaning like you never knew you could.

And he's just in heaven, 'cause he's got your juices dribbling down his chin and glossing his lips better than his favorite lip gloss — uh-huh.

"Mister! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck — nnn! G-gojooo!" you start mewling his name and he goes faster, trying to chase your orgasm out with full intent to leave you hanging.

Your breath is staggering, pussy pulsing with that edge of pleasure and oh, suddenly he's retracting his tongue from your weeping, spasming hole before you can cum all over his face.

Yep. He leaves you hanging.

"Wait — ! Nn, I was gonna c—"

"— y'know, princess" he interrupts, wiping your slick off his cheek with his fingers and licking it off right before your wide eyes, "I really think we're past the formalities; call me Satoru."

Half-dazed and ditzy on the pleasure of a missed orgasm, you watch as Satoru pulls away from you, his knees digging into the mattress and weighing it down.

Veiny hands find his belt and smoothly undo it, whipping off with a loud crack.

"O-oh?" you breathe excitedly.

He smirks, seeing how your eyes are glued to his bulge, "Aw, ya gonna perv on me while I strip for ya?" he teases, then clicks his tongue in regret when you reply with a lamb-like look, "Hahaha, don't get shy on me now. I'm just teasing."

Absolutely drooling over his physique as he strips his clothes off tantalizingly slowly, Satoru's been so composed up until now; as he unbuttons and unzips his long zipper, you notice how ragged his breathing actually is. Like he needs it bad. Like his cock is getting strangled by his clothes.

After hastily taking his pants off, Satoru quickly frees his eager cock from his boxer briefs.

And your eyes go wiiide.

"Oh."

Pale. Pink. Stiff. Leaky. Bit of an upper curve. Thick veins. What's that, like maybe a nine? No, no, there's no way. Actually, on second look, maybe?

"C'mere, let me have you." he rasps, one hand gripping his dummy big cock.

"That is not gonna fit inside me."

His ego swells. Ah, how many girls have said that to him in his life? And it never gets old.

"Nah, it'll fit."

You twitch excitedly, breath catching in your throat as Satoru comes closer to you and snuggles his slim waist between your legs which you just keep spreading wider and wider, so ready to take him even though you're nervous as hell.

"Ready to get ya cherry popped, cutie?" he asks.

He taps his cock against your entrance, coats it in your slippery juices, teases that hot tip in 'n out.

"Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhfuck! Holy shit! Um! Uh!"

"What is it?" he throws a smug smile your way.

He watches intently as your pouty lips move, "'Big, 's really fucking big...! Ooh, god! Nn! Nnn!"

"You're so cute." he arches over you, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

His head starts to spin as he slides inside you.

Fuck. He's actually doing it. Sure, he fucked that flight attendant once. Yeah, he had a couple flings. He was a nasty, sex-crazed fuckboy in his youth. And yet... nothing felt as nasty as this.

This is everything he ever fucking needed. This is the sweet and nasty girl that he's craved for all his life. The rest were too nasty, some too sweet, but you? A perfect slut.

Satoru's curving up into you and teasing your sweet spots with his tip like he's letting 'em know that soon they're gonna get bullied with his hard-hitting strokes.

And your pussy's happily getting stretched out, walls clinging to every inch he pushes in like she's so thankful that you finally gave her something besides your fingers or toys to clench around.

"Ah, fuck, that's tight."

"I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's a good thing... just relax a little more, 'm gonna push it deeper, is that okay?"

"Yes, please... oh please, fuck, yes give me everything!"

He grins, "No need to ask twice." he murmurs, right before he's sinking another few of his inches into your struggling pussy.

Satoru just comes undone at the feeling of being inside you.

His big hands come to squeeze your breasts, jiggling them around with a playful tongue poking out his mouth like he's just tempted to put his mouth on them.

So he does, y'know he's already lost enough self-restraint to the point where he's fucking his babysitter, so of course he's gonna give into his urge to suck on your breasts.

His hot, wet mouth envelopes your sensitive nipple, tongue flicking against it 'till he draws out cute whimpers from you.

He's pulling his mouth off, kissing the curve of your cleavage, groping a handful of your breasts, looking down at you like he knows damn well no boys your age are gonna fuck you as good as him — shit, scratch that, ain't fuckin' nobody in your whole life gonna fuck you as good as he will.

When your walls permit him to go deeper, Satoru stutters out like he's the virgin here, "F-f-fuck, there you go, baby, jus' take my cock like you're meant to, yeah?"

He moves his hips, relishing that sloppy sound of your pussy gushing around him — oh god you're bucking your hips to meet his hips 'n you're driving him crazy makin' him think for a split second about remarrying.

Like, he's going insane, he's actually going insane.

Hardly ten minutes later and he's fucking you into your first orgasm, loving how you can't even control how hard you cum on his cock. He's ruthlessly rubbing your clit throughout your orgasm, eager to make your eyes roll back completely. And it's making you freak the fuck out, 'cuz no one else has done this to you. No one has brought you to a real orgasm before.

And he can tell.

It makes him twitch and dive deeper into your sopping hole, eager to lure out as much juice as he can 'cause there's nothing he loves more than a creamy mess on his cock.

He's bending and pushing you into the positions he loves, thrusting at a steady pace that you can keep up with at first but sometimes he'll go harder, harder, harder until you're sobbing and wailing out so loudly that he needs to clamp a hand over your mouth.

He chuckles, "Quiet down, princess. You're gonna wake up my kids at this rate."

" 'm shorry!" you mumble into the palm of his hand, feeling his cock drill into your sweet spots and pressure your walls like crazy.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. It's cute. You're taking me so well," he praises, "Doing so so well for me, princess."

Those soft coos don't match his nasty strokes. He's railing you like he's trying to fuck every last bit of virginity out of your pussy, 'till it remembers the shape of his cock, 'till it clings to him, 'till it knows who's ya daddy.

Especially while prone-boning you. Damn, who forgot to give this guy the handbook on How to Fuck a Virgin? He's pounding into you and grunting like he's gone psycho... ohhhhehasn'thaddpussyinlikeayear. Okay. Makes sense.

"Ah, fuck — fuckin' look at me while I fuck you," he commands, sweaty cheek pressing against yours. Satoru grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, loving your lewd expressions. "Haha, such a fucked-out face... cute."

He thrusts faster into you, not even letting much of his cock in 'cause he knows form experience that virgin pussy just can't handle all of that. So he's easing out each time he accidentally dives in too deep.

And when he pounds up into you like that, it makes sense why the phrase "fucking your brains out" came about. His cock has got you in a crazy back arch, got you seeing stars. No thoughts. Just pussy spasms.

"Harder!! 'want it harder! Please! Fuck me harderrr!!" you plead, totally cockdrunk on Gojo Satoru.

"Are you sure 'bout that, sweetheart? 'Cause I don't think you can handle it..."

"Please!!" you beg.

"Aw... 'can't say no to that fuckable face, can i?" he throws your leg over his shoulder, repositioning himself, grinning, "Take a deep breath. You tell me if it's too much, m'kay? Y'can tap out at any time."

"Yeah, yeah! I know!!" you respond so eagerly it makes him giggle.

As instructed, you take a deep breath. But honestly, did it really prepare you for getting fucked this hard? Um, no.

"Fuck, fuck!! Nnn... god, fuck me! Yesyesyes, just like that please!!"

"Ah, shit, baby..."

"God, you're gonna — you're gonna break the bed, 'Toruuu!"

"I'm gonna break you first." he moans, pounding every last inch of his cock into your happy little pussy, gives your g-spot a beating that has your whole body on the brink of insanity.

"Ughhh... fuck!" you choke up, you hiccup, you sob and wail — and he has to kiss you quiet.

My god did you need this. You needed to indulge in this nastiness, 'cuz who the hell else is ever gonna give you the fucking of a lifetime? Uh, yeah, that's right...

"Yeah, keep enjoying my fucking cock. You know nobody else is gonna fuck you as good as this, little slut." he whispers into your ear, cheek sticky with sweat 'n pressing against yours.

What kind of man did his ex-wife think he was? Full of himself? Nah... he wasn't that full of himself. C'mon now...

"... fuck you look so good cumming on my cock like that. Aw, you shaking? Can't handle it? Am I just too good at fucking you, huh? Wanna cum again? Come on, use your words, you're a big girl. You wanna cum again, don't you? I know you want it. I know you love my cock, 'course you do... 'm fucking perfect, baby. 'N you're gonna take every perfect fucking inch of me."

Oh. Okay. Maybe he is full of himself.

Well, he's full of himself and now you're full of him, too.

Satoru isn't shy about pumping a thick, gooey cumload inside you. He isn't shy about frothing up his creampie during round two, either. And he isn't shy about flipping you into missionary and pushing your trembling legs back and sliding his cock in again.

"Can ya do one more for me, baby?"

"Y-yeah!"

"Aw, but you look exhausted..." he grins. "I wouldn't wanna break my favorite babysitter on accident."

"I'm okay, I swear! I can take it!" you start babbling.

Sweat is dripping off your bodies and soaking the bed. The room smells like sex. His muscles are pressing into you. He's diving into you like a swimmer and grunting and making a dent in the wall 'cause that headboard is banging into the wall just as hard as he's banging into you. Neither of you even notice the dent in the wall. You're just stuck together, connected in that one place, fucking like bunnies.

You palm at his abs, pressing flat against them and melting at the feeling of his mmmaturemusclestwitchingohgodbless, you're so gone after feeling his sweat gather on your hand and catching a glimpse of the bulge his cock makes inside you.

Satoru blanks when your small hand feels up his muscles. Now his thrusts got your lower tummy shuddering and you just wonder what he's thinking when his brows furrow together in such serious focus at your fertile pussy.

"Ohmygodohmygodyou'regonnafuckingbreakme!!" you squeal, fisting the pillow and nearly crying into it.

He giggles, slowing his thrusts to a pace your poor, abused pussy can handle better, "Sorry, doll, you jus' got me too excited when you touched me like that."

"Nn!!" you fist the sheets in your hand, realizing just how far he fucked you to the edge of the bed — the two of you were nearly falling off the bed until uh, oops, you were on the floor?

"Ahh-ahhh! Ah! AH! Wh-what kinda... wrestling move is this, Satoru! Fuck, go easy on me!! 'M gonna cum again!!"

He's too into it to bother getting the two of you back on the bed. Now he's just pinning you down on the plush carpeted floor, railing your tight cunt from behind like he owns it. He may as well, honestly.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts, "Cum again on my cock. Lemme see you work it out on my cock. C'mon, isn't this the cock you wanted so badly? Put on a show for me, baby."

"Ahh!!" you sluttily cry out, bouncing your hips up and down and working your pussy on just six of his nine inches.

"Fuuuck... look at that back arch... haha, you already runnin' outta stamina? Yeah, tell me about it. It's hard work fuckin' a big cock, isn't it? Okay, okay, spoiled princess..." he mutters, hearing your exhausted pleas, "Perk that ass up, lemme show you how it's done."

"But this position is so — AH!" you kick your legs as he slides deeper with each quick stroke.

His tip's prodding at a spot you don't even recognize; a sweet gummy spot that's like your off button. You can't keep your mouth shut and now you're getting so loud that he's gotta clamp a hand on your mouth again, pushing you into the carpeted floor and not stopping his hard-hitting thrusts for a looong few seconds, driving it deep.

He picks up his pace, balls slapping into your clit so loudly that he can't even complain about the loudness of your moans. That skin-slapping 'n squelching could wake up the neighborhood.

"Fuck," he grunts, "Ah, ah... stay right there, 'gonna make you a mama..."

You thrash your legs around, "Nn! Please!" you squeal, feeling his warm seed pour into you again without warning. Just that feeling makes you cum. Hard. Satoru's cock freaks out at the feeling of your pussy's milking contractions along his length, making his tender tip spurt out a little bit more cum against your cervix.

It's so bad. You really shouldn't love getting creampied by an older man this much, let alone your... uh, boss?

Worse. He shouldn't have such a big fucking smile on his sweaty face. He shouldn't be rolling his eyes back in satisfaction like that, like he finds it so funny that he actually did it.

"God, you sure loved milking me, huh?" he smiles wide, bangs soaked and sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Nnn..." you nod, totally exhausted.

He watches you trying to catch your breath, gulping and gasping. He slides his softening cock out of your over-creampied pussy, earning a small whimper from you. Oh, you feel so empty now, it's crazy. Just how did he pack all of that cock inside you? He can't figure it out, either.

"You okay, sugarplum?" he asks sensitively, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Yahhh..." you weakly whimper back, wiggling your foot cutely, "Need t' cleanup... need help w-walking..."

All his creampies bubble out your pussy.

He stifles a laugh, feeling a bit guilty. Satoru presses a kiss to your back, peeling you off the floor and practically carrying you to the bathroom — floor and walls black tiles, every corner spelling 'rich boy' in bold letters.

Carefully and slowly, Satoru helps to clean you up, massaging your sore parts with his big hands, peppering your neck in the sweetest little kisses as if he didn't just rearrange your guts and ruin your pussy for other men.

"So... how's it feel, not being a virgin anymore?" he asks with a dirty big bad fuckboy smile.

You simply blush and smile shyly in response. It makes him laugh.

"Aw, are you all shy now, pookums? Shit, I think I fucked tha nasty outta you..."

You nuzzle him, looking about ready to sleep, and it just melts his heart.

"Mm, y'know... Suguru was right about you; you're a real sweetheart. I think I might just have 'ta keep you around for a long time."

ㅤ🍒 x 🐇 x 💗@𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖎

ㅤ𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

His hand is placed firmly on the nape of your neck. You can't move a single muscle. All you can do is take it. And by it you mean– “N-Nh! C-Clark! Please- Fuck- S-Slow down!” You squealed. The squelching noise you make when Clark pulls out just slightly before slamming back in has your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He has your legs trembling, pathetically trying to shift away from him. Your hands are tied behind your back. The tie you used to tie around Clark's neck now tied around your wrists.

“I- I'm sorry, baby. I can't– Golly, you feel amazing.” He softly whined. His hips continue to snap against yours without a single hint of mercy. His words may sound polite but there is nothing polite about him with the way he's rearranging your guts. “Stay right there, baby. m'gonna treat this pussy of yours real nice.” He murmurs softly into your ear, sending a hot heat straight to your core. You can hear the hint of that Kansas accent of his slipping through.

Clark doesn't remember what started this insatiable hunger for you. Sure, he always craved for you but he could always control it. His desire for more. Maybe the sudden wave of deadlines needing to be met and articles that need to be reviewed pushed him over the edge. All that stress with no proper outlet. Now, he won't stop until every inch of your walls are covered white with him.

It's filthy. He's hitting you raw. No condom. No anything. You can feel the rough drag and pull of his cock. You're not on birth control right now and he knows this. Clark isn't the type of man to easily forget these sorts of things. “C-Clark, please–” You whine but he quickly shuts you up with a harsh kiss on your lips. His fingers tangles itself in your hair, yanking you back with a sharp tug. The slight act of roughness has your walls squeezing around him. And Clark can feel every single bit of it while he nips at your neck like some feral animal. Leaving shades of blues, reds and purples all over your skin.

Your walls are squeezing him tightly. Squeezing every thick vein and curve of his dick. If he makes you arch your back just a little bit more… “Ah! Clark– Oh fuck! Nh~ y-you're being m-mean~” He's somehow shoving his thick length deeper into you. The tip is tapping that certain spot in you that has your eyes rolling back and jaw dropping in pleasure.

The sight alone could make Clark combust right then and there. You're so pretty like this. He can't get enough of you. Your parted lips and eyes rolled back

 He knows he's treating you roughly. You have work tomorrow. He probably shouldn't be battering your insides but he can't help himself. Not with how tight your pussy is gripping onto him.

“m'not being mean on purpose. I swear, baby. You're just- ngh- can't help it. You're so tight. Gosh– You can barely take it.” A smile cracks onto Clark's face. The bliss he's feeling is immeasurable. If he could, he'd take a picture of your messed up state and keep it in his pocket all the time. For his eyes only of course.

His warm breath brushes along your skin. His lips peppering along your shoulders that are littered with lovebites from him. “Gonna pump you full of me. Wanna fill you up to the brim. Then I'm gonna eat you out real good.” He murmurs into your skin. The image he paints in your mind has your face turning a bright red.

You squealed in surprise as Clark flips you onto your back. Your body bouncing on the mattress. His hands travel to the back of your thighs and push your knees up to your chest. The change in position has you speechless in the best way. He's deep in your pussy, making a mess out of you on the sheets. “H-Hah~ Ah~ Clark… h-honey, you're so deep. I- I can feel it.” You whispered softly. Your throat is sore from how loud you've been crying out Clarks name.

The grin on Clark's face grows wider. His hair is a mess. There's strands of his curly hair sticking to his face because of the sweat that's dripping down his body. You've lost track of how long he's been fucking you. He came back an hour before the sunset went down. Now, the moon is high up in the sky.

Clark's gaze focuses on your stomach. His hand drifts towards the small bulge in your stomach. He's right there. “I can see how good you're taking me. You want it too, right? You want me to pump you full. I know we said that we'd wait but I really wanna come inside you, baby.” Clark softly pants. The way you're squeezing him is driving him wild. He can't even control the pace of his hips anymore.

The mix of juices cling to your thighs and slowly starts dripping down onto the bed. The sheets underneath you are soaked and most likely ruined at this point. Its fine. Clark doesn't care one bit. He could always replace the sheets. But this? The warmth of your tight pussy gripping onto his thick length? Yeah, nothing can replace this.

“Please say yes, baby. Ah- wanna come in you. It'll feel so good- God- please please please baby.” All you can muster up is a weak whimper. His hips are slamming into yours at an inhumane pace. He rolls his hips into yours when he's flushed against yours. “Y-Yes, h-hn~ please don't stop. want it- I- so big-” Your sentences are barely making senses but that's enough for Clark.

He easily parts your legs and tosses them over his broad shoulders. He's got you bent in half and spread wide open just for him. It's a miracle that you're still conscious right now. “you're almost there baby. can feel it. you're squeezin’ so tight.” Clark gasps, towering over your smaller frame. He pulls you in for a rough kiss.

It's almost laughable how easy he takes control over you. His tongue explores every inch of your tongue like its the first time. He takes it all in. Every whimper or moan that softly escapes from your lips he swallows it right up. The bed is already starting to creak from the weight of his thrusts. Every kiss from him whisks away the air from your lungs. It's dizzying and addictive. When he pulls away, only a thin thread of saliva is what connects you.

It's hot. It's messy. It's everything Clark needed right now.

You're too deep in that pleasurable haze to even realize that Clark slipped his hand between your legs. The rough pad of his thumb harshly pressing down on your sensitive nub. The action elicits a sharp cry from your lips. Clarks name is the first thing you say. He doesn't stop with at a simple press. No– Clark gets addicted to the sound of you. He won't stop. Not unless he hears you say his name again just like that.

Clark watches with hazy eyes as his fingers flick, tug and press down on your sensitive nub. It's mesmerizing to him– the way you move your body. Your tits bouncing with every harsh thrust. Hands gripping onto the headboard. It's your only form of support right now. You can't do anything while you're under him. The tightness fabric around your wrists ensures that and so does his heavy weight.

Clark is a big man after all. Standing at 6 foot too giant. He uses it to his advantage but at this point its so unfair. “c'mon baby… just one more push.” He murmurs. The strung out string in your stomach snaps and it leaves you screaming Clarks name. The neighbors probably know what you're doing by now. Hell– The entire neighborhood might now. You wouldn't be surprised if you got a noise complaint at your door tomorrow morning.

Clark leaves you gushing. Your come rushes out of you like waves. Coating Clark's cock with a sheen layer of white. And Clark can't stop watching it. He uses his x-ray vision in the most filthiest way possible, watching as your essence spills out and covers him. He forces more of it out with small thrusts of his hips. You whine every time he does but Clark couldn't help it.

It's enough to push Clark over the edge. His cock twitching with every bit of come he pumps out. Warm ropes of his thick cut spurting out of the tip and into your cervix. Gosh does that look wonderful to him. He makes sure to bury himself even deeper. Clark isn't a wasteful man. He doesn't want a single drop to flow out from your womb. His hips stutter to a stop once he finally drags himself back down from cloud 9. Clark tilts his head back, sweat glistening on his skin with one arm on the headboard to hold him up.

“atta girl, that felt real good didn't it, hun?” His accent is a lot thicker now. Clark holds your trembling legs still, pressing a soft kiss to your knee that's resting on his shoulders. The tender action is a complete 180 from his rough pace earlier.

You legitimately thought Clark was done with the sex by now. He should've gotten it out of his system. This was the most you've done it with him. Not even those special nights where you wore fancy lingerie or did your makeup nicely riled him up this badly. What in the world happened to him? You can't help but wonder it.

Clark hisses when he finally pulls out. The mix of come he's been plugging up in you slowly leaving your bruised and battered hole. Talk about being ruthless. It drips out from you, down your inner thighs and soaks into the ruined sheets. The cold night air greets his soft cock as he kneels there in between your legs. He holds your leg in place. He's worn himself out pretty good this time.

A shaky breath of relief comes from you as you relax. Ah, you'll deal with cleaning the mess tomorrow. Now you can curl up in bed and sleep happily in Clarks arms– Why the fuck was he shifting down the bed again?

Your eyes stare at him with surprise. Even after all that he's still not satisfied?

Clark doesn't give you the chance to speak before his lips are on your sweet cunt. He sucks your cunt harshly. His tongue dragging up your legs to savor the taste of you. The come he's pumped in and mixed in with yours  is slowly leaking out into his mouth. Your back arches against the bed as another cry echoes through the room. His hands holds your hips tightly. He was still hungry for more. A little dessert before bed won't hurt anyone.

“One more, baby. All you gotta do is lie there and look pretty for me.”

Oh fuck.

you can feel him, even before he’s there. the heat of him at your back, the way the air shifts, how his presence wraps around you like a slow - burning fuse.

'wearing this just to piss me off, sweetheart?' his voice drags down your spine like a touch, warm and teasing.

you don’t turn. 'don't flatter yourself.'

he chuckles, and you hate that it makes your skin prickle. 'too late.'

what did that mean? a cold sweat pricks at the back of your neck. ugh, you hate him.

his fingers brush your hip, so light you might imagine it. you stiffen, but don’t move. 'you’re acting like you don’t feel it, too,' he says, voice just this side of smug.

you do. and you hate that you do.

you turn around, and glare at his smug ass face. looking fine as ever under the dim coloured lights of the party. fuck. you raise a hand, threatening to slap him.

he chuckles, low and dark. 'do it. bet that pretty little hand of yours would feel so good on my face.'

--

all night, he toys with you. lingering glances, teasing smirks, hands brushing too close, breath against your neck when he leans in just to piss you off. he murmurs filth in your ear just to see how long it takes for you to snap.

by the time he finally grabs you, you’re already burning.

one second, you’re throwing him a glare. the next, his fingers are curling around your wrist, and he’s pulling you through the crowd, past the pulsing music, past the drunken, grinding bodies.

no words. just him. just the heat in his eyes when he finds an empty hallway, shoves you onto the wall, and backs you against it.

'you’ve been pissing me off all night,' he mutters, voice rough.

'me?' you scoff, breath uneven.

sunwoo’s fingers slide up your jaw, tilting your face up so you have to look at him. his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling like he’s been holding this in for too long.

'yeah. you. acting like you don’t want this.'

'i don’t,' you lie, but your body betrays you.

his lips quirk into that same infuriating smirk that makes your blood boil. 'then tell me to stop.'

you don’t.

so he kisses you.

it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate—all frustration and heat, all the tension that’s been clawing at him since the moment he saw you. his hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, and you can feel him, hard against you, like he’s been aching for this just as much as you have.

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just to hear the groan he lets out. his hands slide down to your waist, his grip almost bruising. he pulls back, his lips covered in your saliva. 'fuck..' he growls. he frantically looks around the hallway and sees a door. ajar. his hands find your wrist and drag you to the room, slamming it shut and locking it behind the two of you.

he slams you against the wall next to the door, his face centimetres away, his nose almost touching yours. his eyes are hooded. he can't take it anymore.

he needs you. now.

'fuck,' he mutters again, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he’s been starving for this. 'you have no idea how bad i’ve wanted this.'

you hate how good he feels. how solid, how warm, how fucking there.

your nails drag down his arms, frustration burning through your veins. you can feel him—thick and hard through his jeans, pressing right against your core.

'you’re such a-' he cuts you off with his mouth, swallowing whatever insult was about to spill out. it’s messy, heated, all tongue and teeth, all the pent-up frustration from hours of bickering, teasing, denying.

his hands slip under your skirt, rough palms trailing up your thighs, fingertips dragging over the edge of your panties.

'shit,' he groans against your lips. 'you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?'

'shut up.'

his smirk is pure sin. 'nah. you like my mouth too much for that.'

his fingers push aside the lace, dragging through your slick folds, teasing you slow, lazy, just to piss you off. you take a shaky breath as his fingers made contact with your bare heat, your nails digging into his shoulder.

'you can act like you hate me all you want,' he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. 'but this?' he circles your clit with his thumb, just enough pressure to make you gasp. 'this pretty little pussy tells me the truth.'

your head falls back against the wall, a curse slipping past your lips. his mouth is everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, nipping, licking, leaving heat in his wake.

'sunwoo,' you gasp, grabbing at his bicep, but he just smirks.

'shut up. you know you don’t want me to stop.'

you don’t. and you fucking hate him for it.

but not as much as you hate how good he makes you feel. his fingers slip inside, two stretching you open with an ease that makes you shudder. 'so fucking tight,' he groans. 'bet you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock, shit.'

you bury your head in his shoulder, dragging your nails down his back just to hear him curse. 'you talk too much,' you pant, grinding down against his hand.

his grin is wicked, fingers curling inside you just right. "and you fucking love it."

he’s right. and you’re too far gone to deny it.

--

his fingers work you open, slow and deliberate, his other hand gripping your thigh to keep you pinned against the wall. 'look at you,' he murmurs, watching the way your body moves against his hand, how your hips chase his touch. 'needy little thing. guess all that attitude was just a front, huh?'

'fuck you,' you spit, but it comes out breathy, desperate.

sunwoo laughs, dark and low, his teeth grazing your throat. 'you wish, baby.'

he pulls his fingers out of you, and you barely have time to whine at the loss before he's dragging them up, pressing them past your lips.

'taste yourself.' god, he's so dirty. and you'd be lying to say if you didn't love it. the demand is filthy, and fuck, you should refuse, but you don’t. you let him push his fingers onto your tongue, let the taste of yourself mix with the heat of his skin.

his jaw clenches. 'god, you’re so hot.'

before you can throw some remark back, he’s moving - grabbing your wrist, spinning you around, pressing your front against the wall. his body is flush against your back, his hands greedy as they drag down your sides, gripping your ass, pulling you back against his cock. you whimper softly as he presses into you, barely having enough time to steady yourself against the wall.

'you feel that?' he grinds against you, slow and teasing. 'that’s what you do to me. fuck, i’ve been hard all fucking night, watching you, knowing you’d end up here, whining for me.'

then you hear it—the sound of his belt unbuckling, the rasp of his zipper. your pulse hammers.

'say it,' he murmurs, voice like gravel. 'tell me how bad you want it.'

you hate him. you hate how smug he sounds, how cocky, how he already knows.

and you hate needing him more.

'sunwoo,' you whisper, pressing back against him. 'just do it.'

sunwoo groans softly, dragging his cock through your slick folds, teasing, just barely pushing in. 'say it.'

you don't want to say it. but you do.

'please..'

and that's all he needed to hear.'

he pushes into you in one slow, deep stroke, stretching you open, making you gasp as your hands scramble for purchase against the wall.

'shit,' he curses, voice wrecked. 'so fucking tight. you feel that? feel how good you take me?'

you can’t speak, you can barely breathe. he fills you completely, his cock thick and heavy inside you, stealing every thought from your head.

'fuck, baby,' he groans, dragging his lips up the back of your neck. 'you hate me, huh? hate me so much you’re dripping all over my cock?'

you whimper, nails scraping the wall. he pulls out almost completely, then slams back in, setting a brutal pace, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

'listen to you,' he grits out, snapping his hips harder. 'moaning like a slut for the guy you fucking hate.'

your body betrays you, pushing back to meet him, desperate for more. his fingers snake around your throat, pulling you back against him, forcing you to arch.

'feels good, doesn’t it?' he whispers against your ear. 'letting me fuck you like this. finally giving in.'

your moans are strangled, broken. he’s too deep, too good, ruining you from the inside out.

'you’re mine for now, baby,' he growls, his hand slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles over your clit. 'fuck who you thought you were before this. right now, you’re just a messy little thing who needs my cock.'

you don’t argue. you can’t. not when the knot in your stomach is building, threatening to snap. not when every thrust sends you higher.

sunwoo feels it—the way your body tightens around him, how your legs tremble, how your breath catches like you’re right on the edge. his grip tightens around your throat, his other hand working your clit mercilessly. 'that’s it,' he rasps, his lips brushing your ear, his cock pounding into you harder, deeper.

'you’re about to cum, aren’t you? gonna fall apart on my cock like a good little slut?'

you whimper, your knees almost giving out, but sunwoo holds you up, forces you to take every brutal, punishing thrust. 'say it.'

'fuck, yes, i-'

you don’t even finish before it slams into you. heat floods your body, white-hot pleasure bursting through you like a live wire. your walls clamp down around him, squeezing him so tight you hear his sharp intake of breath, his grip going almost bruising on your hips.

'shit,' he curses, his rhythm faltering as your body spasms around him. 'that’s it- god, you’re so fucking tight when you cum.'

he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t let you breathe. he drives into you, fucking you through your orgasm, dragging it out until you're nothing but a shaking, incoherent mess against the wall.

'look at you,' he groans, voice thick with something dark and possessive. 'still taking me so well, still so desperate.'

your head drops, your body completely pliant in his hands. you feel his breath against your skin, harsh and uneven, his pace turning erratic. he's close.

his hand slides down your belly, presses against the bulge where he’s buried so fucking deep inside you. 'you can feel it in your tummy, can't you, baby?'

his hips slam forward, grinding into you, making you feel every inch of him. your body twitches, overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop.

'you want me to fill you up, don’t you?' he groans, his hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite down on your throat. 'want me to ruin you, make sure you’re dripping with me when you walk out of this room?'

you can’t speak. you can only whimper, nod, barely able to keep standing as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you.

'f-fuck.' he grunts. his hands tighten on you - one gripping your hip, the other pressing against your stomach as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt.

then he breaks.

his groan is wrecked, guttural, as he spills inside you, his body shuddering, his lips parted against your neck. you feel it. hot, thick, filling you up, his cock twitching deep inside as he rides out his high.

the room is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick and tangled.

for a moment, neither of you move.

then sunwoo chuckles, breathless, pressing a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder. 'shit,' he murmurs, voice rough, spent. 'you still hate me, baby?'

you’re too fucked-out to even respond.

he grins against your neck. 'don’t worry, baby. we can work on that.'

--

for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.

they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable. 

though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart. 

no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jaemin when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along. 

thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jaemin had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.

haechan said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jaemin’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jaem?” you whispered. 

“hm?”

you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”

jaemin exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier. 

it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”

you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts. 

“why do you want to leave?” jaemin asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you. 

“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.

jaemin could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“i don’t like smoking.”

“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jaemin reasoned. 

“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”

jaemin groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”

“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.

jaemin was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jaemin pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”

mark groaned. haechan rolled his eyes. jeno snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”

jaemin flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.

the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.

jaemin opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.

you didn’t mind that. jaemin was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.

but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.

would jaemin still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?

you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.

“jaemin,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”

“nothing, baby,” jaemin lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely. 

when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

jaemin forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”

you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say. 

jaemin scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled. 

your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jaemin reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.

the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go. 

a feeling you knew all too well. 

the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.

it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jaemin wanted nothing more to do with you right now. 

to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door. 

you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.

jaemin took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”

he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered. 

jaemin reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”

you released a shaky breath. jaemin understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”

“why are you scared?” jaemin asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”

“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”

jaemin chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”

your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”

“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”

jaemin bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.

you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.

there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.

jaehyun was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.

“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day. 

“hey, doll,” jaehyun greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”

you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, jaehyun didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“we were able to wrap things up early,” jaehyun explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.

“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jaemin and his friends tonight. 

“yeah.” jaehyun’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”

you blinked. jaehyun always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.

jaehyun set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”

“how did you know?”

“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly. 

your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”

jaehyun chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”

you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.

ironically, it was silent for a moment as jaehyun sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. jaehyun spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”

you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”

that threw jaehyun off. “so why are you still dating him?”

“i don’t know,” you huffed.

jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.

your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”

if anything, that only served to make jaehyun even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”

“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”

“and you don’t?” jaehyun finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.

you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”

“well, you gotta know something, baby,” jaehyun teased. “do you, or do not you?”

ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”

jaehyun hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”

you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”

jaehyun placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”

but could you do any better? jaemin was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.

but there was nothing like that with jaehyun. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”

jaehyun shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it. 

but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken. 

but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”

jaehyun shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”

“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful. 

jaehyun could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”

you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.

the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to jaehyun’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.

apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on jaehyun’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.

when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.

none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.

your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?” 

you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.

clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”

you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.

“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”

with that, your mother turned and walked away. 

you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.

and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.

and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.

in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with jaehyun, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs. 

which meant he’d carried you.

your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength. 

it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.

almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jaemin inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.

you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past jaehyun and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”

you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”

“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.

you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.

your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”

you stood your ground. “no.”

your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”

your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?

jaehyun made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”

switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.

your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”

“you called her a whore,” jaehyun replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”

“i said she looked like one.”

jaehyun sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”

your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.

the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jaemin’s car.

the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jaemin had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.

jaemin handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”

though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”

“a mix of things,” jaemin replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”

you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”

jaemin furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”

you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”

“you have such a stick up your ass,” jaemin teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.

you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.

“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”

you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice. 

jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”

you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.

jaemin hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jaemin mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”

“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.

“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jaemin asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “jeno’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”

you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to jeno only strengthened your hesitation.

“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

jaemin grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”

“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”

jaemin begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?

you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.

it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.

with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.

jaehyun picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”

“daddy?”

even if it was only one word, jaehyun could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”

“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.

jaehyun’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”

“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”

you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”

fifteen minutes later, give or take, jaehyun called you and told you that he was outside.

you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jaemin could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.

thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.

jaehyun glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”

you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”

jaehyun knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.

you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jaemin gave me a cup and told me to try it.”

jaehyun exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jaemin, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”

you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering. 

jaehyun glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”

“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them. 

he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jaemin even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something. 

and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best. 

though jaehyun’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”

“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble. 

jaehyun’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”

family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years. 

you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”

jaehyun didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”

that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.

the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.

but jaehyun was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. jaehyun was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems. 

all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time. 

it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him. 

but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty. 

you knew it would be a bad idea to look at jaehyun, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

for a moment, jaehyun was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”

arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”

“i know it is, doll,” jaehyun whispered. “i know it is.”

something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”

jaehyun looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”

if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”

“and thirty days,” jaehyun added dryly.

he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”

“i’m just good at quick math.”

you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly. 

“thirty-nine.”

“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”

“twenty-one,” jaehyun answered without any forethought.

more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that. 

but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult. 

“besides,” jaehyun continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”

your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared. 

if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer. 

jaehyun kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”

“it’s okay,” jaehyun replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”

you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask. 

sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, jaehyun picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.

you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.

but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.

maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. jaehyun made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.

after washing your face, jaehyun grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”

“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”

jaehyun grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

“g’night, daddy.”

the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.

you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork. 

once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.

the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again. 

you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.

jaehyun watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, jaehyun was just a man.

“i’ll get it,” jaehyun insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.

you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed jaehyun come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal. 

then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”

jaehyun shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.

“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise. 

most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” jaehyun repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”

your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.

or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.

“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had. 

sure, you’d had dreams about jaehyun before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.

that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine jaehyun doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.

it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; jaehyun’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.

part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only jaehyun would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.

but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, jaehyun was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do. 

“hello?” jaemin said when he picked up the phone. 

your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jaemin,” you whispered. “hi.”

“hi,” jaemin repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”

jaemin made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.

you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to jeno’s room, and i got even more worried.”

“why?”

“i don’t like jeno,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”

“baby,” jaemin sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “jeno’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”

you were only half relieved. “thank you.”

“now, is that why you called me? to tell me jeno makes you uncomfortable?” he asked. 

“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”

“what is it, sweetheart?”

you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”

you could practically feel jaemin perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned. 

“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jaemin. right now.”

jaemin was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”

“home.”

“can i come over?”

“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”

“i’m on the way,” jaemin said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up. 

you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jaemin was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.

it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around jaehyun and you were afraid of having sex with jaemin for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.

you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jaemin, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?

clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.

time went by faster than you thought, considering that jaemin didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.

your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jaemin would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.

jaemin, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.

“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

jaemin coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”

your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jaemin said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”

that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jaemin by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times jaehyun and jaemin had met, there was strange tension in the air.

based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jaemin outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”

jaemin chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered jaehyun telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend. 

“you don’t need protecting from me,” jaemin told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”

define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jaemin too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”

“and what’s the truth?”

“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”

jaemin looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.

but when jaemin opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?” 

your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”

“yours?” jaemin echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right. 

the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad. 

jaemin scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”

“but, jaemin,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving. 

shaking his head, jaemin threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”

you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jaemin, please don’t go,” you begged.

he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.

as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.

as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?” 

you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.

it hurt more than it should have, watching jaemin leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.

maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.

sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jaemin was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.

it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.

there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.

and maybe if you meant more to jaemin than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.

and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: jaehyun. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart. 

the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.

the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control. 

control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours. 

seeing someone like jaehyun, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.

that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.

thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.

because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong. 

just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.

after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting  your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.

you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier. 

to your surprise, rather than your mother, jaehyun was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.

you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but jaehyun beat you to it, handing you a water.

when your eyes widened a little in surprise, jaehyun snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”

he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.

“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”

you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”

jaehyun chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”

you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if jaehyun was home. 

jaehyun followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”

you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”

“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” jaehyun started levelly. 

you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jaemin was here earlier?”

“she did.”

you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”

“it’s not just the boy,” jaehyun replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”

you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”

sighing, jaehyun said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”

“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”

“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” jaehyun answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”

“i told you, i don’t like him.”

jaehyun didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”

“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.  

“then, explain it to me,” jaehyun said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

jaehyun heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, jaehyun heard something else about that boy.

something more infuriating than the last.

you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”

“i’ll always try,” jaehyun told you, voice featherlight.

you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”

jaehyun placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”

you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.

jaehyun smiled softly and pat your shoulder.

for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jaemin again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.

or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.

this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.

you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jaemin had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.

it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jaemin? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.

surely enough, the attached image was of jaemin swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.

only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.

whatever had happened between you and jaemin the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.

but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jaemin were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.

now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.

torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.

the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew jaehyun kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.

taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that jaehyun was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.

you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.

it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of jaehyun, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.

his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.

for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.

you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.

with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.

your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of jaehyun on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.

it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.

your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.

how could you? the mere sight of jaehyun made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that jaehyun was good for you. that he was meant for you.

maybe thinking of jaehyun as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.

you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.

one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was jaehyun’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of jaehyun touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.

the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.

you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, jaehyun would have been fucking you every night.

the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped jaehyun would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.

there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was jaehyun’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.

your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like jaehyun.

those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?

you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.

it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though jaehyun would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.

you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was jaehyun’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.

so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about jaehyun. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jaemin and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away. 

it was easier to think about jaehyun, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.

still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.

the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured jaehyun would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.

like clockwork, jaehyun came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”

you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”

jaehyun leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”

“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.

“mm.”

you turned around to face jaehyun, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”

jaehyun bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”

you and jaehyun sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.

while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to jaehyun, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.

not only that, but you didn’t know how jaehyun would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.

after the dishes were washed, something jaehyun volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”

jaehyun turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”

jaehyun didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”

you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”

jaehyun’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.

jaehyun pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”

you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“it’s alright,” jaehyun replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”

your heart stopped. “…was?”

for a moment, jaehyun was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”

that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”

it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”

you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.

tensing a little, jaehyun continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”

“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.

“you lost someone, too.”

the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”

jaehyun’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”

there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”

after much internal wavering, jaehyun reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”

your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”

“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly. 

you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”

“i’ll never give up on you.”

you were beaming. “i know.”

this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.

at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, jaehyun’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained. 

much like the rest of him.

in the time that you had spent thinking about jaehyun’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jaemin,” you announced.

though he didn’t expect the topic change, jaehyun couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”

you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.

the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” jaehyun exclaimed.

you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather. 

taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”

jaehyun shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.

jaemin had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.

there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”

you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.

jaehyun listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”

your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”

“no, doll,” jaehyun replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”

you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”

jaehyun squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jaemin’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”

you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.

as jaehyun looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jaemin?” he asked after a pause. 

“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.

jaehyun let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”

there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jaemin because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jaemin selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”

“mm.”

your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”

jaehyun tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.

because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.

sighing, jaehyun relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”

“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.

jaehyun ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”

“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”

jaehyun didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” jaehyun started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”

that stung. you never knew jaehyun was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.

jaehyun softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”

you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?

why did you see him like that?

to make matters worse, jaehyun didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.

maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things jaehyun provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.

or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.

it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.

just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”

jaehyun came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.

you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”

he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” jaehyun said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.

you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”

“maybe a little bit,” jaehyun told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”

you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”

jaehyun hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”

your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”

“why you do the things you do,” jaehyun continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”

saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.

jaehyun stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jaemin, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”

jaehyun’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”

“i don’t care.”

jaehyun sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”

“so? am i thirteen right now?”

“no, but you’re barely legal.”

“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”

there was no doubt that jaehyun was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started. 

“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”

“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” jaehyun told you, stern, but level. 

obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”

jaehyun sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”

“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.

jaehyun knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.

the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.

jaehyun had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.

but it would be wrong. and jaehyun had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.

so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.

you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. jaehyun didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.

but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.

looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.

“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them. 

look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.

you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.

it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.

testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of jaehyun, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.

jaehyun knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”

“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”

it wasn’t for lack of trying. jaehyun closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.

he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.

you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.

when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”

you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath jaehyun’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.

releasing a shaky breath, jaehyun brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”

you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.

jaehyun shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”

you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.

there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.

“you’re okay,” jaehyun reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”

with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.

this time, jaehyun held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.

afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.

jaehyun moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have jaehyun inside.

to your surprise, jaehyun cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”

your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.

“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”

jaehyun was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”

“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. 

the room felt hot, and jaehyun couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”

it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”

jaehyun grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss. 

it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.

you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jaemin had shared. while you would admit that jaemin was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to jaehyun made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.

jaehyun slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.

you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”

that you were. jaehyun could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”

then without another word, jaehyun went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.

your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - jaehyun was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.

jaehyun wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.

“god, you taste so good, baby,” jaehyun groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”

it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. jaehyun licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy. 

just the way you always wanted.

“does that feel good, baby?” jaehyun pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”

you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged. 

hearing you say that only made jaehyun harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”

then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.

you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. jaehyun’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.

“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants. 

“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”

with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.

jaehyun only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.

you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jaemin and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.

“that’s it, doll,” jaehyun crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”

all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.

“i know,” jaehyun whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”

jaehyun got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.

“so perfect,” jaehyun murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”

you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed jaehyun’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile. 

“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”

you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.

even as jaehyun moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, jaehyun asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”

“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”

that was all it took for jaehyun to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.

“oh my god,” you gasped out. 

jaehyun chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”

you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.

jaehyun’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to jaehyun, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.

your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.

jaehyun took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.

“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.

you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”

“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.

not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.

“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”

“fuck,” jaehyun groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.

“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly. 

“halfway, babe,” jaehyun told you.

you gawked. “halfway?”

jaehyun shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.

“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined. 

“i know, baby girl,” jaehyun replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”

“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”

jaehyun swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.

when jaehyun’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his. 

because you were.

“jesus christ,” jaehyun hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”

“you feel good too,” you stammered out.

jaehyun took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.

you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped jaehyun’s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.

jaehyun’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”

and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. jaehyun could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.

something made jaehyun hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.

“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”

you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”

jaehyun felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”

your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”

“mine?” jaehyun repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.

you nodded your head. 

jaehyun prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”

the mere mention of jaemin made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”

jaehyun didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.

you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.

jaehyun saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.

you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. jaehyun wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.

“you think about me a lot?” jaehyun asked. 

you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”

jaehyun was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”

“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”

“every day?” jaehyun repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”

“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.

jaehyun groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”

“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”

jaehyun almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.

your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.

it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.

“that’s it,” jaehyun crooned. “good girl. you’re amazing, doll.”

you stilled after a moment, sated. 

the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made jaehyun moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.

“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”

that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt jaehyun dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.

for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. jaehyun kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.

you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and jaehyun both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.

your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jaemin.

and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.

“baby, you picked up,” jaemin said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”

before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” jaehyun hissed. 

he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.

you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”

 One look around the room tells Mark that the majority of guys are happy about the decision, but Mark catches Taeyong and Doyoung both looking a little skeptical.

Most of the NCT frat guys are extroverted, but for the shy types, this whole thing is setting up to be a nightmare.

Mark’s a computer science major, for Christ’s sake, he’s only in a frat because two of his best friends joined, and he didn’t want to be left out. He hadn’t realized date auction charity events were even a real thing, and for a guy who doesn’t really date, Mark is mortified.

“Cheer up, lesser Lee,” Hyuck grins, patting Mark on the back, “you might get lucky from this. You know, if anyone actually bids on you.”

One:

You’re at the auction, and you have a goal in mind as you hold your bidding paddle tight in your hand.

There’s a general understanding about who will get the most bids, and when a bidding war breaks out for a date with star basketball player Jaehyun, and is settled for six hundred full dollars —well, you’re a little worried about your strategy.

“You still planning on grabbing two guys?” your friend Selene asks, nudging your shoulder. She’s just successfully won a date with Lee Jeno, whom she’s had a crush on since first year, and she’s five hundred short for it.

“I did the statistics,” you tell her, “and I think Hyuck is the one I have to worry about.”

“He’s a ladies' man,” she agrees. “But Mark Lee is pretty cute, too.”

“He’s shy,” you insist. “I think I can lowball him.”

Selene lets out a chuckle. “This is feminism at its finest. Us girls, bidding on hot frat boys- God, I love living in the twenty-first century.”

You crack a smile, and when the time arrives, you hold up your paddle for Hyuck.

He’s doing his best to rally the crowd, but you think his man-whoring reputation is going against him. You know of at least three girls here tonight who have gotten lucky with Hyuck for free, and they’re definitely not bidding on him now, not when Johnny Suh is yet to be auctioned.

You manage to secure your auctioned date with Lee Donghyuck for three hundred dollars, and you do your best to remind yourself that the money is going to a good cause. 

Later, Mark Lee gets on stage, and as you’d predicted, he’s low on the totem pole for many women in the crowd. Sure, he’s more desirable than the stoic business major, Kim Doyoung, but not as high as he should be for someone with such a cute face and sweet temperament.

You get Mark Lee for a hundred and fifty dollars, chalking your losses up to four hundred and fifty, which, at the end of the night, isn’t actually that bad for a date with two hot men.

Your heart is racing when you’ve finally reached your goal of winning both Mark and Hyuck, and a deep breath escapes you.

You have a plan, and there’s no turning back now.

Two:

“You look hot,” Hyuck grins as he pulls you in for a hug, letting his hand linger a little low on the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you smile, your gaze turning to Mark. “You both look quite handsome.”

Hyuck can’t help the scoff that escapes him. It’s been a mystery all week - well, since the auction - as to why a hot girl like you would want a date with both him and Mark. You don’t have a reputation for being a party girl or someone who hooks up with a lot of dudes, so Hyuck’s pretty confused about the whole situation.

Hyuck watches you give Mark a hug, and then the three of you sit down at the table.

You’re in the back corner of an on-campus restaurant, and despite the low-key vibe of all the student-affordable food spots, you’re all dressed up. Hyuck’s in dress pants and a white dress shirt, no jacket. Mark’s fully in a suit, and Hyuck’s pretty sure it’s the one he wore to the winter formal a few months ago.

And you… Well, you’re in a silky red dress that’s hugging your body in all the right places.

Hyuck can’t take his eyes off you.

“I bet you’re both wondering why I bid on you,” you start, letting out a breath.

“Most girls try to stick to one date,” Hyuck agrees, although the girl who won the Jaehyun bid last week did also try to take a run at Johnny- she lost, by a couple of hundred dollars.  

“Well,” you swallow thickly, and it’s clear from the way you’re unable to meet their gazes that you’re feeling shy about this whole thing. “I kind of have this uh… sex bucket list thing.”

“Huh?” Hyuck’s jaw drops, and he turns to look at Mark, who is just as shocked as he is.

“I know, it sounds awful-” You shake your head, as if you can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “It’s this thing my friends and I made in our first year in uni. Just a list of, you know, coming-of-age sex things we wanted to try while we’re in school. And, well, I’m sure you guys know I’m not a huge partier, so the opportunity for a threesome has never come up.”

“Why Mark, though?” Hyuck blurts out, unable to help himself.

“Hm?”

“Why did you pick Mark?” Hyuck repeats. “I mean, it’s obvious why you chose me, but why him?”

“Hey!” Mark objects, but the word is dejected on his lips nonetheless.

“Basically, I minor in statistics, so I made a spreadsheet based on threesome success probability and factors. I wanted someone with a lot of experience, someone who may have had a three-way before and would diffuse any awkward energy.” Your gaze shifts to Hyuck, and it’s clear he’s the candidate for that position. “But I also wanted someone soft,” now you look at Mark, “someone who doesn’t sleep around a lot, so I could feel equal in some ways. I wanted to have people who are, in some regards, opposites, so that it would feel cohesive for me… does that make sense?”

Hyuck thinks about it for a few moments. “I mean, I guess if you’re doing statistics on a threesome, that makes some sense. You probably factored in cost at the event and knew Mark would be a cheap buy.”

“Hey!” Mark says again, louder this time.

From the shaky breath you let out, Hyuck - a psychology major - can tell he’s hit the nail on the head, and it makes him laugh. “You really did your homework on this one, huh?”

“I’m top of my class,” you admit.

“Paying money to get a date with two guys, with the intention of propositioning them for a threesome,” Hyuck shakes his head and lets out a whistle. “Well, this seems a little backward.”

“So I assume you’re in?”

“I’m in,” Hyuck nods.

Both of you turn to look at Mark, whose ears have turned red. “I uh…” Mark takes a sip of his water. “Let me think about it.”

Three:

Mark’s hanging out in his room and studying when someone pushes his door open. At first, he thinks it’s probably his roommate, Jaemin, but when he looks up, he notices Hyuck has launched himself onto one of the beds.

“So?” Hyuck asks.

“Huh?”

“So, threesome or no threesome?” 

“Uh…” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “I don’t know yet.”

“I get it,” Hyuck sighs. “You’ve never had one, you’re worried about positions and being near each other’s dicks and shit like that. Don’t worry, we can Eiffel Tower.”

“Eiffel Tower?”

“You know, spit roast.” 

“What’s that mean?” Mark asks.

Hyuck lets out a scoff. “Wow, you really are innocent. Eiffel Tower and Spit Roast means like… one of us is in her pussy and one is in the mouth, so we’re not really close to each other. Do you never watch porn?”

“Uh…” Mark rubs the back of his neck. He’s a frat boy, of course, he watches porn. But… he tends to gravitate to female porn only, the gentle stuff. Any videos with men always get too rough and aggressive for Mark, and he always wonders like… are those girls really okay with what’s happening? Do they actually enjoy it? Do their families know they’re out here getting railed by some bald dude with a twelve-inch dick? Is the dick even real?

“You know, if you don’t want to do it, Jeno would probably jump at the chance,” Hyuck muses.

“No-” the word tumbles from Mark’s lips before he can stop it. “I uh… I want to, I just… I don’t want you talking down to me and shit because I’ve never had a threesome.”

“I can play nice,” Hyuck assures him. “Look, it’s on her bucket list, we’ve gotta give it to her, right? It’s our… charitable duty.”

“She paid to have dinner with us, I think the school, frat, and foodbank would draw the line at us claiming we’re having a threesome with her because she ‘won us’ at an auction.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“God, you really do have the humour of a paper weight.” 

Mark sighs. It’s not his fault that he takes this sort of thing seriously.

He’s not a virgin in any sense of the word, but he’s also not a manwhore like Hyuck.

Mark’s given the whole thing some thought, and he can see what you wanted him to be part of this. Mark isn’t about to let the whole thing turn into some weird threesome porn fetish thing where they’re talking down to you-

“I also don’t want any degradation,” Mark states. 

“But degradation can be fun!” Hyuck insists. “I bet she’d love being called out little cock whore, our little cum slut.”

Mark narrows his eyes at Hyuck. “Those are very derogatory terms.”

“Fine. Any other rules, mister vanilla?”

“Just, don’t be an asshole, okay?”

Hyuck makes an exasperated sound, but he ends up nodding. “I’ll do my best.”

Four:

You can’t believe this is actually happening.

When Hyuck had texted you that Mark was into the idea of a threesome, you’d deep-cleaned your entire apartment, had an ‘everything shower,’ and even bought some new scented candles to make sure everything would be perfect.

Now, here you are, sitting on your couch with Mark and Hyuck.

Your heart is racing, and while you know where this evening is headed, you’re not sure how to initiate anything.

“How about you tell us what you like?” Hyuck starts.

“Uh…” You swallow thickly. “Obviously I want to cum tonight.”

“Obviously,” Hyuck scoffs, as if your orgasm was a given.

“So… eating me out? I like being eaten out. I like clit stuff.” Your skin is heating as you admit these things. “I think… no anal. I know I wanted a threesome, but I’m not ready for that type of double penetration.”

“I was thinking spit roasting anyway,” Hyuck nods. You stay quiet for a moment, and Hyuck’s gaze moves to his frat brother. “Mark has some rules too.”

“Oh?” You turn to look at the quieter of the two.

“I just… I’m not into degradation. I don’t want us to be making you feel dirty or anything,” Mark admits. 

“I agree with that,” you tell him.

“I’m not super into the rough stuff,” the computer science major continues. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is cause pain or anything.”

“Basically, we have Mister Slow and Gentle over here,” Hyuck sighs.

“I can be okay with that.” You pause to think about it. “But, Hyuck, if you want to be a little rougher, I think I’d be okay with that too.”

“You did say you wanted balance,” Hyuck grins. “Do you have any toys?”

“Yeah.” 

“How about we move this to the bedroom and you show us?” he suggests.

You swallow another lump in your throat and nod, rising to your feet. The two men follow you to your bedroom, where you retrieve your small box of sex toys from the closet.

Hyuck’s already taken a seat on your bed, but Mark is clearly more hesitant about all of this, and he stays standing while you join Hyuck on the mattress.

“So,” you open the box, pulling out your black wand vibrator, “this one is my favourite.”

“Cordless, nice.” Hyuck takes the device from you, inspecting it, then his gaze dips to the box. “You have some more hardcore shit in here, huh?”

He picks up a pair of nipple clamps.

“I mean… my sex bucketlist was to try new things, and I did try them,” you confess, “but I didn’t like most of them, if I’m being honest.”

Hyuck snaps the clamps at you. “What didn’t you like about these?”

“I just feel like I’d rather have a mouth on my nipples than a clamp.”

“Valid.” Hyuck sets down the beaded clamps and picks up a butt plug. “And how about this, little miss no anal?”

“Way too much prep needed for anal, and then there’s the lube, and then trying to relax- the plug was enough for me, let alone a whole cock, you know?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had anything up my ass,” Hyuck chuckles, “so I’ll take your word for it.”

You can feel yourself starting to relax. Hyuck is helping with the jitters. He’s so calm about this, and you’re glad you chose him; however, he’s also being somewhat tame. He’s not as aggressive or lustful as you’d thought he would be, and you wonder if Mark has anything to do with this.

It was nice to hear Mark has his own boundaries, and they’re boundaries about your treatment, not his own. Mark had also been a good idea, and you think your statistics really hit the nail on the head with this one.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Hyuck sighs. “Mark is probably more weirded out by me than I am of him-”

“What?” Mark interjects.

“I mean, if I eat her pussy, then you eat her pussy, you’ll probably be weird about my spit being there and just, shit like that,” Hyuck waves his hand. “If I cum in her first, and you go second, you’ll be weird about my cum on your dick. But since I’ve had a couple of threesomes already, those aren’t things that bother me. And as much as I like being the person who goes first, for the sake of your statistics and everything, I’m willing to tone my shit down so you’re both comfortable.”

You stare at Hyuck for a few moments, processing what he’s just said.

“That’s actually a really nice offer,” you tell him.

“I’m generous like that,” Hyuck shrugs. “But at the same time, I don’t have all the patience in the world. We’ve been here for like fifteen minutes, and we’re all still fully clothed, so I think we should fix that.”

You and Mark exchange a glance.

Hyuck sighs audibly. “Okay, how about this, since you two are shy, how about I leave the room for a minute or two, grab a drink from the fridge or something, and let you two get comfortable?”

You nod, and Hyuck walks away.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask Mark once you’re alone.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just confused about the whole bucket list thing. You seem like a really nice girl. You’re attractive and smart- why would you need to proposition us?”

“It’s like I told you, statistics.” You let out a breath. “The two of you are frat brothers. You know each other, so that helps. Plus, I assume frats have a lot of no-strings-attached sex. You’re not just two friends I met who I could proposition and maybe have issues… do you know what I mean?”

“I guess.” Mark swallows thickly. “Frat boys are manwhores, so you could find two guys who would likely have a threesome with you who it would affect too much.”

“Yeah, no bickering, no fighting to date me afterward, just a check in my bucket list.” You sigh. “But, at the same time, I didn’t want Hyuck and Jeno, those two have a reputation together. Sure, I could have hit on Johnny, but that would have felt a little weird for some reason. I don’t know, you and Hyuck just made sense to me.”

Mark nods. “As long as you’re sure about this.”

“I’m sure.”

You stand up, approaching Mark.

He stays still as you rest your hands on his shoulders. “Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You notice the way his gaze dips down to your lips, then back up. As you slowly close the distance, his eyes flutter shut.

It’s a very soft kiss, and you can feel his body starting to relax as you shift closer. Then, his hands find your hips, and the experience deepens.

You’re both softies, and you can feel that in one another. It lowers the tension a little, but your heart is racing in your ribcage nonetheless.

Mark parts his lips, and your tongues meet, causing you to groan. He holds you even tighter, and you love the sensation of your breasts pressed to his chest.

Slowly, Mark leads you toward the bed, and he starts by removing his own shirt first.

You mirror the action, and Mark lays you down onto the mattress, his lips meeting yours again.

You like the weight of him on top of you, and his lips descend to your throat. He takes his time there, finding your sweet spot while more moans begin to slip out of you.

Then, he moves further down, pressing soft kisses to the swell of your breasts.

You’re a little shocked when the descent continues, and Mark shifts onto his knees on the floor. He grabs your sweatpants, looking up at you. “Can I take these off?”

“Uh huh.” 

Mark. Sweet, soft, shy Mark- pulling off your sweatpants gently before kissing up your leg. 

You’d expected him to go slower, but you think you’ve underestimated the fact that this is still a frat boy between your legs, albeit different from the ones you’ve heard about.

Frat boys have a reputation for lots of sex, but sex that’s not always satisfying for the women they’re with.

Lee Jeno, for example, is known for his high body count, it’s in double digits- nearly triple if you believe the gossip. But his count on women he’s actually bothered to make orgasm? Potentially numbered with one, maybe two hands. 

Mark hooks his fingers in your panties, and you lift your hips, allowing him to get your lower half naked.

There’s an anticipation in the air that’s palpable, and you look down at Mark, watching him kiss up your calf, then your thigh.

“You can tell me what to do, if you want,” Mark says, adjusting your legs so you’re practically spread-eagled for him.

You release a shuddery breath. “Okay.” 

Mark leans forward, and he takes his first lick of your pussy. Your head falls back against the bed, and your eyes close from the sensation, a moan escaping you when he circles his tongue around your clit.

“That’s good,” you tell him.

Mark sucks more of your sensitive bud into his mouth, and your legs twitch. He continues to eat you out like this, focusing on your clit more so than your slit, but you had told him that was a preference of yours. 

You hear a sharp breath, and you open your eyes to find Hyuck standing in the doorway watching you.

“Looks like I’m not the only person who’s impatient,” Hyuck muses with a grin. “Do you have room for one more?”

Mark doesn’t even lift his head from between your thighs, and you get the sense that he’s trying to ignore his frat brother. But you wanted a threesome, and you want the full extent of the experience.

“Come,” you tell Hyuck, motioning him over.

Hyuck joins you on the mattress, and the first thing he does is lean down to kiss you.

There’s no slow and gentle with Hyuck, the kiss is immediately passionate, his tongue swiping across your own with record speed.

One of his hands reaches out to grope your breast, and you groan at the sensation, hips wiggling for more stimulus from Mark.

Two sets of mouths pleasuring you is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and your core throbs at the idea of it.

“Let me get your bra off,” Hyuck tells you, breaking the kiss to reach under your body and undo the clasp.

A moment later, you’re completely bare for the two men, and Hyuck immediately leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, moaning desperately as the two men worship you together.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, and after swallowing the lump in your throat, you decide to speak. “Mark, can you put two fingers into me? Just suck on my clit, please- and Hyuck, don’t stop with my tits, I’m so close!”

The two men are good listeners. Mark immediately adjusts, his mouth lifting to focus on your sensitive bud while two fingers slip into your soaked core. Hyuck goes even harder on your chest, massaging your free breast while he sucks on your nipple roughly.

You cry out from the sensation, your whole body tingling on the precipice-

Mark curls his fingers upward, ramming into your g-spot, and you explode immediately.

Your core clamps down on Mark’s digits while a strangled gasp escapes you, your body flooded with pleasure. It consumes you, and the pleasure doesn’t stop- it continues, both men working you through your high without a sign of wanting to stop.

Hyuck and Mark are both beginning to groan now, clearly loving the sounds you make when you cum.

When your pussy stops clamping down on Mark’s fingers, he removes them. One last lick of your pussy has him pulling away, and Hyuck does the same.

“My turn,” he announces, and when he gets off the bed to tear his shirt off, you notice the massive bulge in his pants.

Hyuck quickly gets onto his knees, and he’s not shy about taking a lick of your pussy right after Mark had been there. No, Hyuck dives in, and you squeal, your clit still sensitive.

Hyuck’s more of a tongue fucker kind of guy though, using his nose to stimulate your clit while he pushes his wet muscle as deep inside of you as it can go.

Mark stands up, letting out a sigh and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Come here,” you tell him. “I want to suck you off.”

Mark’s chest immediately flushes with colour, and it’s so endearing that a man who just ate you out could be so shy about you returning the favour.

The shy computer science major takes off his pants, and soon, he’s as naked as you are.

His cock is average size, nothing to gawk at, but nothing to laugh at either. No, it will fit perfectly inside of you, and when he joins you on the bed, you put it to the test by grabbing the base and bringing the tip to your mouth. 

Hyuck’s still devouring your pussy, and you find yourself moaning around Mark’s cock, enjoying the act of pleasing and being pleasured.

Mark’s already groaning above you, and he reaches down to pet your head.

It’s a little hard to suck him off like this, spread eagle for Hyuck, your neck twisted at an odd angle- so soon, Mark begins to gently thrust, fucking your face and giving you time to adjust to it.

He hits a little too deep by accident, and you feel your pussy clamp down, body jolting with pleasured surprise.

Hyuck pulls away from your core, and a second later, two of his fingers press inside of you. You can feel his eyes as he begins to finger fuck your core, and you get the sense that Hyuck likes to watch people have sex.

Your body is tingling from all of this, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“You look good sucking his cock, baby,” Hyuck groans. “Can’t wait for you to suck on mine.”

You whimper in response, hollowing your cheeks even more for Mark.

Hyuck must grow tired of watching however, because his mouth returns to your pussy. He sucks your clit between his plump lips, and you can feel yourself racing toward the edge again.

You can’t help but pull off of Mark, stroking him while you look down at Hyuck.

“Just like that,” you gasp. “Fuck, I’m close again-”

“Want you to cum for us,” Mark tells you, wrapping his hand around your own so he can help you pump him off while Hyuck brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” you whimper, throwing your head back, your eyes clenching shut.

Hyuck sucks lewdly on your clit, and your legs twitch, your second orgasm exploding inside of you.

Your muscles scream as pleasure rolls through you again, your entire body spasming as the waves overtake you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Mark whispers, and his wholesome praises make you tingle even more. 

Hyuck’s still finger fucking you, but he’s going slower now, letting you recuperate after two back-to-back orgasms.

“Do you think you’re ready for us?” the man between your thighs asks.

“Definitely.”

The two men look at each other, and Hyuck sighs. “Okay, Mark, how about you fuck her doggy while she sucks me off? Does that work for everyone?”

You find it almost comical how accommodating Hyuck is trying to be, and it shows that he’s putting in effort.

Mark nods, and both men adjust. You take a moment to recuperate, but then you get onto your hands and knees, watching Hyuck take off his jeans and underwear.

Hyuck is thicker than Mark, and it makes your mouth drool as Mark gets situated behind you.

He’s standing up, and you’re perched by the edge of the mattress, giving space for Hyuck as he gets onto his knees in front of you.

“Try not to choke,” Hyuck teases, grabbing the base of his cock so he can tap the tip against your awaiting tongue.

You hear Mark scoff behind you, but he’s rubbing his own cock through your soaked pussy lips.

Both men enter you at once, and you realize where the term ‘spit roasting’ comes from.

It’s a bit of a shock, but you adjust quickly, especially since Mark is moving slowly. He’s giving your body time to adjust to his size after having only had fingers so far. Hyuck, on the other hand, is betraying himself; his more aggressive/needy side is starting to show through.

Hyuck’s face fucking you, it’s not deep, but it’s fast already, and he has a grip on the back of your head to hold you still. You don’t mind, though, because he’s already groaning, and the sound is like music to your ears.

“You have such a good mouth,” Hyuck tells you. “Can you take more?”

You moan around him, and Hyuck slows his pace, testing the waters to push in deeper. You feel yourself gag around him, and both men groan. 

“Too deep,” Hyuck tells himself, pulling out ever so slightly. 

Mark, meanwhile, smooths his hands along your hips, getting a grip on you. He’s fucking you deeper now, still at a slow and steady pace, but deeper, and the feeling is absolutely euphoric.

“Bet Mark feels good,” Hyuck muses. “Bet you like having us both in you like this.”

You whimper, looking up at Hyuck as a wordless affirmation.

“Mark didn’t want me to call you a cock slut tonight,” Hyuck sighs, continuing to fuck your face. “So what if I say you’re a good cock angel for us, huh? That’s not breaking any degradation rules, is it?”

If you weren’t so pleasured and desperate, the whole thing would be comical, but instead, his words make you even wetter.

“She’s a good girl,” Mark agrees, hand smoothing up your back.

“After this, you’re never going to want to be with just one dude again,” Hyuck warns. “But that’s okay, I think we both like you, if you want to do this again, I know we’d both be into it.”

You’re in too much of a lust-fueled haze to think too hard about what Hyuck’s just said, after all, in the heat of the moment, you think you’d want to give this another go, too. You’d said a one-time threesome for your bucket list, but the reality of the situation is that you’re very much in danger of wanting to call these two frat boys up again sometime soon.

You close your eyes, pushing the thoughts away so you can focus on the pleasure.

Mark’s pace is increasing, and so are his sounds.

You think they must both be pretty riled up from the foreplay, and that’s alright with you.

Hyuck must notice too, because he slows down and pulls out of your mouth. “Why don’t you tell Mark how badly you want to be filled up?”

You groan, still trying to catch your breath. “I want it.”

“Bet you can’t wait for both of our loads to be filling you, huh?” Hyuck continues.

“Fuck, so full,” you whimper, too dazed to think coherently.

Mark fucks you even faster, his grip tightening on your hips.

Now that Hyuck’s not in your mouth, your sounds fill the room, and soon, Mark lets out a strangled sound. “I’m cumming,” he announces, thrusts faltering as he pushes in as deep as he can go.

You can feel Mark throbbing inside of you, filling you up while you moan against the bed.

He’s panting, and you can feel his breath against your back, which makes you shiver, body erupting with tingles.

Hyuck waits a respectable ten seconds, then he nods. “My turn.”

Mark pulls out of you, and just like that, Hyuck’s flipping you onto your back. He slots between your thighs, tapping his cock against your core.

“You’re dripping, baby,” Hyuck grins. “Might as well plug you.”

His cock slips easily into your soaked core, and you both groan.

“Mark, hand me the vibrator,” Hyuck instructs, and you watch the tired computer science major pass over the toy.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Hyuck sighs. “I’m going to put a pillow under your lower back so you’re adjusted upward for me, then I’m going to slowly fuck you with this vibrator on your clit. We can cum together, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, body tingling with anticipation.

Hyuck gets onto his knees and helps you get the pillow under your form. You enjoy the new angle of your body, especially when Hyuck takes a test thrust and hits your sweet spot.

“That’s it,” he grins. “Now for the vibe.”

The toy buzzes to life, and Hyuck doesn’t even bother with the low settings; he goes straight to high, and your heart races.

“Bet this is going to make you go wild,” Hyuck muses, slowly bringing the vibrator to your core.

You let out a gasp and a strangled whine when it makes contact, but Hyuck grabs you by the hip with his free hand to hold you in place.

“No wiggling away,” he tuts, rubbing the vibrator from side to side while he does a few test thrusts. 

God, your whole body feels on fire, muscles tensing again.

“You’re tight,” Hyuck notes. “Bet it feels good.”

“Feels so good,” you confirm, your eyes rolling into the back of your head while you give in to the pleasure.

Hyuck’s still fucking you slowly, and you get the sense he really wants you to cum hard on his cock before he goes buck wild and fucks you the way he wants to fuck you.

You shiver with anticipation of it, focusing on the way your body is reacting to the stimulus on your clit.

Sometimes men go too hard with the fucking while they have a vibe on you, and it can be hard to concentrate on just one pleasure. No, Hyuck knows what he’s doing, and you find yourself unraveling quickly.

“Just like that,” you tell him, clawing at the bed.

“How about you take the vibrator, a woman knows her own body best,” Hyuck suggests.

You do as you’re told, grabbing the toy with shaky fingers.

He’s right. You know the right pressure, the right motions, and soon, you’re whimpering loudly, eyes clenching shut as you barrel closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum on my cock, baby,” Hyuck tells you. “Want to feel it.”

You’re panting, muscles tight- 

Hyuck reaches forward, pinching your nipple gently, and it’s the last stimulus you need to fall over the edge.

You let out a strangled moan, your orgasm overtaking you.

The moment your pussy clamps down on Hyuck, he grabs your hips, and that’s when he begins to truly fuck you.

He’s not holding anything back, your body jolting back and forth, manhandled as he fucks you like a ragdoll.

You toss the vibrator to the side to give him more room to work with, and you swear you see stars as he rails you.

“Fuck, so fucking tight-” Hyuck grunts.

It’s as your orgasm is subsiding that his finally hits, and Hyuck releases a moan, grip extremely tight on your hips as he tries to fuck you through it.

You’re both gasping, and when Hyuck slumps forward, you grab his shoulders, pulling his body down toward you.

You cling onto him, feeling so full in the best possible way.

After a few moments, you sense movement, and you open your eyes to see Mark standing there. He’s in sweatpants, and he’s holding what looks to be a wet cloth in his hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Mark suggests.

Hyuck groans, rolling off of you. “Is it just me, or are we going to have to do this again?”

Mark’s eyes shift to you. You’d told him at the start that you’d chosen them because you’d assumed this would be a no-strings-attached kind of arrangement.

Regardless of your ‘statistics’ and your ‘plan’, you find yourself letting out a laugh. “We definitely have to do this again.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love this dynamic and I love frat au! find a list of other general nct frat au fics here

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🔮 preview.  For two men who didn’t want to be very close to each other at the start, they’ve gotten very comfortable with pleasuring you while being next to each other, and you love the sensation of double stimulation.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, threesome, double penetration, anal, butt plug, blow job, hand job, pussy eating, multiple reader orgasms, praise, dirty talk, fullness kink, cum kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 90

🌙 starring. Mark & Haechan x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a couple of months since your first threesome, and a lot has changed since then.

Having two men worship you was a high you just couldn’t give up, and now, you have almost weekly meetups with Mark and Hyuck.

It’s been really interesting to watch Mark come out of his shell, as well as Hyuck get more used to the dynamic and not so uptight- there’s no longer a fear of ‘doing something wrong,’ and instead, the three of you are simply growing together in a way that feels completely natural.

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@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

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@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

“Give me that!”

Yeji snatches the phone out of your hand with the kind of urgency only a best friend possesses—the kind forged after too many years of watching you do the stupidest things when it comes to boys. Her eyes flare the moment she spots the familiar username. 

@ haechanahceah

“Oh my god. You’re kidding.” Her thumb hovers accusingly over the screen. “Y/N, it’s been a year. A whole year. Why haven’t you blocked Hyuck yet?”

You don’t answer immediately. Just tilt your head back with an exhausted exhale, reaching for the phone. Not because you want it back, but because it feels incriminating in her hands. Like a wound she’s now inspecting. And you don’t need her inspecting it.

“Because we’re okay,” you say, not entirely convincingly. “Mostly.”

It was just a like. On an Instagram post. Of him—with his friends.

(Some of them girls. Most of them girls. All of them tagged. And you definitely weren’t planning on clicking through their profiles in the middle of your best friend coffee date with your screen brightness criminally low. Definitely not.)

“And because we’re friends,” you add breezily. Then you pluck the phone from her hand and tap back into the app, your thumb moving faster than your brain, already leaving a comment beneath his photo.

Something flippant. Something funny. Something that screams: See? I’m a functioning, emotionally stable adult who can totally be friends with the boy who annihilated my heart while he gallivants around Europe on a boat with girls. 

Except probably subtler. 

Yeji stares at you like she’s witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “Oh, absolutely. And when that guy drove me home from the bar last weekend and told me I had pretty eyes, we were just friends too.”

You roll your eyes, swatting the air with your hand. “That’s different. Hyuck’s my childhood best friend. I can’t just cut him off now that we’re not…” you pause, the words catching in your throat like they always do, “you know?”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, arms crossed and chin lifted in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “Because you two are in a loop. An exhausting, toxic, ‘I-don’t-know-where-we-stand-with-each-other’ loop. And staying in touch with him is why you can’t move on.”

“We are not toxic.”

You are. 

But you’d already said it out loud like a reflex, before you even had time to make it sound believable. So, you try to fix it. 

“We’re just…”

You trail off, blinking hard like the answer might fall from the ceiling.

 “Co-dependent?” Lia offers helpfully. 

 You sigh. “Yes. That. Thank you, Lia.”

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Yeji says. 

You lean back in your chair, arms folded across your chest like armour. “Ugh. You wouldn’t get it.”

And they wouldn’t. They never have.

Because nobody gets you and Hyuck. Not Yeji, not Lia, not even the therapists you’ve paid a concerning amount of money to explain it all to you. No amount of therapy or psychoanalysis can remove the him-shaped hole inside of you. The way he exists like a second heartbeat.

How many times does a person truly get to fall in love? Not the practical kind. But the kind that rewires you completely. That makes you wonder how you ever existed before this person, and fear who you might become after. 

If love were fair—the answer would be simple. Once. Only ever once.

Because to love someone—truly love someone—is not just to hand over your heart. It’s to fold it delicately, wrap it in every part of your soul, and place it willingly in that person’s pocket. Trusting that they won’t ever give it back frayed or barely beating. 

And if they do (and he definitely did) well, what remains might resemble a heart, but it never beats the same again. You don’t think it ever will.

So yes. One love. One person. One boy—him.

Yeji calls it nostalgia. Says that since he was your first everything, it feels bigger than it was, and that’s why he’s taking up too much space inside your chest. She says you're scared of forgetting. But that’s not it.

You’d give anything to forget. It’s better than remembering everything. Of living in a world where he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Where songs feel like him. Where movies feel like him. Where your own body sometimes feels like him because he’s marked it so damn much.

But if you did move on, if you could—you’d still have to ask yourself: where does all that breathless, foolish, all-consuming love go? 

The common consensus is that love turns to hate when it stays too long without being fed. But you can’t imagine a universe cruel enough to make you hate the very boy who made you believe in soulmates.

So you don’t hate him. Even though you should.

“Fine,” Yeji slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar fury she reserves exclusively for you—when you’re being like this. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still in cahoots with the same boy who cheated on you and left you a complete mess.”

Lia gasps. “Yeji!”

But the thing is—Yeji has a point. And you know that. But knowing something and truly understanding it is two different things. 

You don’t understand how he put his hands on someone else. How his mouth touched a body that wasn’t yours. How he delivered that line—“I didn’t mean for it to happen”—with the kind of ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d practised it in the mirror before he had the balls to actually tell you. 

You didn’t understand, yet you knew all the same.

You were wearing his shirt when he told you. Still in his house. Still in the space you thought was yours too. And all you could think was: how many nights did he lie next to you like nothing was wrong? How many times did he touch you with hands that had already betrayed you?

He never told you when, or who. Just a sorry. A soft one. A useless one. And a vague promise that he’d do anything to fix it.

But there are some things sorry can’t fix.

You clear your throat, suddenly too aware of how loud your heartbeat feels in a room full of people who love you enough to hate him.

“Because we’re not in cahoots,” you correct. “We’re friends, Yej. Him and I have always been friends.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly. 

You have been friends with Hyuck ever since he moved in next door to your family when you were six. And even then—when you climbed trees and shared crayons—you think your heart was already beating for him. So much you don’t know what life is without that pulse anymore. Without a hint of him running beneath your skin.

It’s why you plaster on a smile and say, “In fact, I even invited him to my birthday party next week.”

They look at you, eyes full of pity and sympathy. And that hurts way more than him breaking you ever did. Because now your friends are staring at you like you’re some sad, shattered, pathetic thing he left behind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lia asks weakly. 

“You’re seriously a lunatic,” Yeji cuts in before you can respond. “You’re just dragging this out for yourself. Death by a thousand cuts and all that.”

“I am not a lunatic,” you say, shrugging her off. “It’s just... he’s still part of my life. It’s not like I’m inviting a stranger.”

“He fucked up your life,” she huffs, the words stinging. “He hurt you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “But I love him anyway, don’t I?”

And you do. Because some loves don’t end—they just rearrange themselves. 

Yeji yanks her chair back so hard the legs screech against the floor.

“He’s gonna hurt you again,” she spits. “How many times are you gonna let him rip you apart before there’s nothing left? Before you’ve sacrificed yourself and everyone else around you and you’ve got nothing left to give?”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck, because she’s right.

Lia reaches out, “Yeji—”

“If he’s there next week, Y/N,” she says, eyes burning over her shoulder looking from you to Lia, “then I won’t be.”

When Hyuck got a DM from the only girl he’s ever loved—two days ago, now—he sobered.

Which, if you asked Mark, was some kind of divine miracle. Because Mark had been watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion for the better part of a year. A slow, intentional kind of fucked up that was clearly a desperate, pathetic attempt to forget you.

But no shot, no spirit, no stranger’s skin pressed to his could ever do the trick. Not really. Because no matter how hard Hyuck tried, the hangover was always the same: he’d wake up, and you still weren’t his girl.

So when he saw your username light up his phone, he paused. 

Because the preview didn’t give anything away. It did that annoying thing that said “2 new messages.” No hint. No breadcrumb. Just a loaded gun of a notification staring up at him.

And, of course he clicked it. He had to. You knew he would. You’d sent two back-to-back messages on purpose—he’s certain of it. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you were. Always two steps ahead. Always orchestrating even your vulnerability. 

You wanted to see when he’d read it. 

And he did.

At 2:36 a.m. Because you’d definitely be asleep by then. And that meant he had enough time to draft the right response—measured, brisk, detached—like the past year hadn’t cracked him open.

He read it in the half-light of Mark’s living room, surrounded by people he didn’t really like and a bottle of something he couldn’t quite remember picking up.

hey. i’m having a thing next friday for my birthday—just a chill party. nothing major. 

you can come, if you want.

Hyuck stares at the two messages.

It’s not because of the party. He couldn’t care less about the cake or the candles. That’s not what has his heart in his throat. It’s the fact that—for the first time in a year—you actually reached out. None of that accidentally bumping into each other nonsense you two pull. No one buys that it’s an accident. 

At least, it’s not an accident on his behalf.

It’s not an accident when he keeps frequenting the same coffee shop you once claimed made the best lattes in the city—always at the same time. It’s not a coincidence when he drives through your favourite places on rainy days, just in case you need a ride and are too proud to just call him. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that makes him take the long way to your house. He does it deliberately. He selfishly takes more of your time than he deserves.

Because saying goodbye wasn’t an option for him. Not until it had to be. He’d take prolonged suffering. Death by a thousand cuts.

And it’s not his fault. Well. It is. All of the ruin, anyway. But in the twelve months since he blew it all up, you’ve still lingered. You always do. You always will. So he just keeps showing up in your life when he knows you need to move on. Because he doesn’t want you to. 

Because everything in his life is still half-yours. And he won’t board up the windows of that love—not even now. Not when some part of you still flickers inside it, and half of his heart is still in your chest.

Hyuck stares at your message again. He types something. Deletes it. Types something else. Deletes that too.

what kind of thing is it?

Too uninterested.

who’s gonna be there?

Too nosy.

sure, if you want me there.

Too honest. 

Everything felt like a trap—too much, too little, not enough to win you back, but equally too honest and would remind you of his actions that hurt you. 

How was he supposed to respond to the girl who once memorised every mole on his face? Who was the muse of every song he’s written? Who still makes his hands shake on the keyboard? Who he cheated on? Who he destroyed completely? 

Eventually he landed on:

might swing by, angel. happy early birthday, btw.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

11:27PM

Thirty-three minutes left of your birthday, but you’re not celebrating.

Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath you, whilst your dress wrinkles and bunches around your thighs because you stopped caring how ruined you looked an hour ago.  

You don’t care that your lipstick is all but gone or that your mascara is smudged under both eyes. You don’t care because he’s not here. 

You were supposed to be smiling by now. 

But he didn’t walk in. 

He still hasn’t.

And you don’t even know why you’re surprised. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your baby. He’s not your Hyuck anymore. He doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing—not a happy birthday, or his time. You gave that privilege up the night you stopped being his. Or maybe the night he stopped being yours. You still haven’t decided which one came first.

Still, you hoped he would come. 

It was the only thing keeping you remotely sane—delusional hope that he might still show up. That maybe he’d walk through the door like he hadn’t betrayed you and still want you. You still wanted him. 

You hated that he broke you and still got to keep the pieces. Hated that even now, on your birthday, all you could think about was him. Hated that you still wanted his birthdays, his weekends, his forever. 

You take another drink. Cheaper vodka this time, and let it burn your throat as it goes down. You want the sting. You deserve the sting. Your eyes drift (again) to the front door.

Still nothing.

“You need to stop doing that,” Lia pads barefoot into the kitchen, coming right behind you to smack both her hands on your shoulders. “Stop watching that door like a hawk. Yeji would kill you if she saw you pining after him on your birthday.”

You press your lips together and glance away like you’ve been caught red-handed. Because, well. You have.

“Yeah, well. Yeji isn’t here,” you mutter, taking another sip—longer this time. 

Lia raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

You drain the last of your drink and look her straight in the eye. “Because I invited him.”

Lia looks at you expectantly. You know she hates being caught between you and Yeji, but it’s clear she thinks you were wrong to invite Hyuck tonight, knowing full well how Yeji would react.

And maybe she’s right.

That’s why you sigh.

“Look, he said he might come,” you say finally. “He didn’t promise anything. Yeji was overreacting.”

“He never promises,” Lia says gently. “And yet, you keep prioritising him like he’s still that sweet boy we both used to love, who used to buy your favourite cookies before class, or pick fights with the boys who made fun of you. But he’s not that boy anymore, Y/N. And he’s not yours anymore either.”

You flinch.

She notices. Regrets it. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

But it isn’t, not really. Because this is the first birthday he’s missed since you were kids. Since you were eleven and he showed up with a homemade card. 

It’s not fine because his absence would say something that the cheating weirdly never quite did—that he’s not the boy you fell in love with. Maybe he hasn’t been for a long time.

Lia leans against the counter beside you. “It’s allowed, you know? Being hurt.”

“I don’t get to be,” you reply, glancing at her. “He doesn’t owe me anything anymore. I was the one who didn’t want to forgive him that night. I said I was done. I don’t expect him to grovel forever.”

“No,” she agrees. “But you deserved something. More than a half-assed apology at least.”

That lands in your chest harshly. You press your tongue to your cheek, the way you do when you’re trying not to cry. You’re not drunk enough to cry yet. Give it another hour.

“Come on,” Lia sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side, “I’m not letting you stay in here staring at that door and giving him the power to ruin the rest of your birthday.” 

But even as she says it, your eyes flicker to that door again—still no him.

Lia doesn’t let go of your hand as she leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where people are scattered across the sofas and floors. They all feel like strangers at your own party because you’ve spent the whole night looking for one person who never came. 

“Y/N,” Lia says, squeezing your hand, “this is Hyunjae.”

You blink. The boy in front of you is pretty. Dark eyes, strong jaw softened by the curve of a perfect smile, black hair pushed back sexily. He’s holding a drink loosely in his hand as his eyes sweep over you. 

“Happy birthday,” he says. “You look—”

Please don’t say beautiful. Please don’t say gorgeous. Please don’t say anything he would’ve said.

“—pretty,” Hyunjae finishes. “Really fucking pretty.”

You smile. Or try to. “Thanks.”

And look, it’s not that Hyunjae isn’t nice—he is. You can already hear Yeji telling you to give him a chance. He’s the kind of boy who’d text back, who’s safe, who’d never leave you staring at a door wondering if he’ll show up on your birthday or not. Hyunjae is the kind of boy who wouldn’t cheat on you. 

But the truth is, you don’t know if you can be the girl who lets someone call her pretty and fawn anymore. Not without wondering if they’ll still mean it once they see someone better, shinier, hotter than you. 

Just like he did. 

You nod along when Hyunjae talks. You laugh where you’re supposed to. Play nice. Be sweet. But everything he says sounds like static. Everything he is feels like a placeholder. 

And then, you hear it. That deep, honey-smooth, familiar voice saying: “Happy birthday, angel.”

It slices through the room. Through you.

Because there’s only one person who ever called you that. One boy. Lee Donghyuck.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Typical. But there he is, leaning in the doorway, all tan skin and messy hair. His hands are buried in his pockets, his jaw set tight—too tight, like he’s seconds from grinding his teeth into dust. 

But it’s not you he’s looking at. It’s Hyunjae. Sitting far too close. Arm tossed lazily behind you on the couch, thigh pointing into yours, almost grazing like he owns your space. 

And Hyuck notices. You know he notices.

His eyes narrow. Lips parting slightly as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. That blend of heat and hurt and possessiveness he has no right to anymore.

It hits your chest all at once—shame, hurt, lust—and you fumble. Your hand twitches with the red plastic cup still clutched tight. The drink tilts before you even realise it’s slipping. Cranberry vodka sloshes, causing sticky, cold liquid to spill down the front of your dress, dripping into the neckline. 

“Fuck—” you hiss, jerking upright as the cup lands onto the coffee table. You paw uselessly at the now soaked fabric, trying to blot it with the hem of your sleeve, but it’s only smearing it worse.

Hyunjae starts to reach for a napkin, concerned. But your eyes have already found Hyuck’s again. And the way he’s looking at you now…

Your throat goes dry. “I—I’m gonna go change.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’re moving before anyone can stop you, heart hammering against your ribs because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You barely make it up the stairs, breath coming fast, fingers trembling as you reach for the door to your room. You close it. But you don’t get the chance to lock it. Because the door creaks again behind you. And then it clicks shut. You spin around. And there he is.

You don’t say anything at first. 

Just stalk over to your wardrobe like it’s perfectly sane to have your ex-boyfriend—your ex-best friend, the boy you used to see every single day, the only boy you’ve ever slept with, the only person who knows all the tells on your body, the boy you still love—in your bedroom for the first time in over a year.

You wrench the closet door open. A pair of heels fall out and land with a little thud. You don’t flinch. You pretend to rifle through hangers, but you’re not looking for anything specific. All of it is just something to do with your hands, because looking at him right now would be a sick kind of torture.

“What are you doing here!?”

Hyuck doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you only hear the soft thud of his shoes on your floor, the creak of your floorboard by the dresser. He’s closer than you want him to be.

“You invited me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You spin around. “I invited you to my birthday party. Which started five hours ago.”

He lifts his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. “As far as I’m aware,” he says, tapping it once, “you’ve still got thirteen minutes left. So again, happy birthday, angel.”

You stiffen. 

There it is. That.

That fucking word. The one that used to make you feel warm and wanted. Now it feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Don’t call me that.”

That stops him. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers the phone. Shoves it back into his pocket.

“I thought you liked it when I called you that.”

“I used to like it,” you spit. “Back when it meant something. You know, before you fucked someone else behind my back.”

His jaw tightens. Good, you think. The truth hurts; you hope it hurts. And maybe that makes you cruel. But then again, he was cruel first.

He rubs his jaw, then exhales. “We’re really doing this now?”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer we pencil it in for next week instead? Talk about it over brunch sometime, yeah?”

You turn back to your wardrobe, suddenly too irritated. Your fingers find the old grey hoodie you always loved. It looks soft. Comfortable. Definitely not party appropriate. But you don’t care because you don’t want to go back out there. Not after this.

You peel your dress off in one motion, leaving you in the black lace set you picked out this morning—because it was your birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for a boy. Certainly not for him.

Him. 

You forget for a moment that he’s still behind you.

It’s like your brain short-circuits in his presence. Like it still confuses this boy for the lifeline he used to be. Like your heart can’t shout loud enough to warn you: this boy broke us, this boy hurt us, this boy is bad for us. All it says is: this boy is Hyuck. This boy is sweet. This boy—we love.

You only remember when you hear him inhale—sharply—and turn around. 

He’s looking at you like that again. Like he did back when he loved you, and you loved him, and he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He looks hungry, and like the only thing that might satisfy him is you. 

That thought makes you clutch the hoodie to your chest. “Turn around!”

He does. Obediently. But then: 

"So, did you wear that for me?"

His voice is so annoyingly smug it makes you roll your eyes as you reply. “No.”

But your cheeks betray you. Hot. Guilty. Flushed. Thank god his back is still to you, because if he turned around now and looked at you, he’d know. Because he knows all your tells. Always has.

And from just a simple flush, he’d know that yes, you wore this set for him. That yes, despite pretending you were over him in his Instagram comments, your traitorous heart had hoped that he might come tonight and rip the set off of you.

And just in case he caught your second tell (the tremor in your voice), you twist the knife a little more.

“I wore this set for Hyunjae, actually.”

A silence. Then the fucker starts laughing.

Not a little laugh. A full-bodied, head thrown back, belly laugh. You hate how much you’ve missed that sound, how it still makes your stomach flip. 

“Five minutes ago, I might’ve believed that, angel,” he says, turning slightly. Just enough for you to catch the outline of his grin. “And it would’ve driven me fucking crazy.”

Your heart stutters when he nods toward your chest.

“But I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” he says, eyes dipping lower. 

You follow his gaze down to the delicate gold chain resting just above the swell of your breasts. The one with the tiny heart pendant. The one with the H engraving. 

“I was talking about that necklace. The one I bought you for your sixteenth birthday,” He cocks his head. Smirking now. “Did you wear it for me?”

Your fingers fly to it instinctively. You hadn’t taken it off. Not even after finding out. You always wore it underneath your clothes, tucked away like a secret, because Yeji would have a field day if she knew you still wore his necklace.

But in the heat of the moment, stripping down to your underwear, your brain hadn’t realised that he’d see it again. 

“I thought I told you to turn around,” you snap, furious with yourself.

He lifts his hands defensively. “I am turned around.”

“I meant your head, not just your body, Hyuck.”

And so he does, again. Obediently.

You pull the hoodie on. It swallows you immediately. The sleeves dangle past your hands, the hem skims your thighs, and it smells like dust and weirdly like…the boy behind you.

“I’m decent,” you mutter.

He turns around, eyes flicking down before he smiles. Not smug, this time. Just soft and… a little sad?

“That’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at the sleeves. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. It’s massive on you. And unless you’ve got a secret stash of men’s hoodies in your closet, that one’s mine.”

You glare. “Oh yeah? And who says I don’t have a collection of men’s hoodies in my closet?”

“I do.”

 So fast. So sure.

You scoff, a single sharp laugh. “God, you think so highly of yourself.”

He crosses his arms—all tensed jaw and too-tight t-shirt—and it’s irritating, how stupidly good he looks whilst being smug.

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “I do. Because, despite us being broken up, you still wear my necklace.”  He nods toward your nightstand.  “You still have a photo of us beside your bed.” And then, one step closer. “And you fucking invited me here tonight.”

You lift your chin. “I invited everyone. It was a mass text.”

“Funny,” he says, a fake smile forming, “Mark didn’t get a text.”

“Aww,” you coo, mocking. “You still talk to your friends about me, Hyuck? Christ. Now I’m gonna start thinking highly of myself.”

“You should.”

For some reason, those two simple words hit you like a slap across the face. Because no.

“You don’t get to do that!” you snap at him. “You don’t get to tell me I should think highly of myself when you’re the exact reason I can’t even imagine the top anymore, Hyuck!” You laugh bitterly. “I don’t know my worth because you had me. But you wanted something else.”

And in that moment—maybe it’s your tone, or maybe it’s accountability—a flash of hurt crosses his face, that makes him wince. 

“Y/N, angel…” His voice cracks a little on your name, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck! It was one mistake. You don’t understand—”

But you don’t want to hear it. You’ve already heard it.

You hold up a hand, stopping him from wasting his breath. “I don’t want to understand anything about the night you decided to fuck another girl, thank you very much, Hyuck.”

“Of course, I get that but—”

“But?”  you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Yes, but, Y/N,” he fires back. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. You say you don’t want to forgive me—and I get it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He’s pacing now. “But you string me along. You comment on my posts, you let me drive you home, you still have my fucking hoodies—”

His eyes flick down to the one you’re wearing now, oversized and drooping around the neckline to show that gold chain. 

“—you wear my initials around your neck, and you asked me to come tonight—you. And now you’re mad that I’m here?”

His voice rises and you swallow—hard. Like maybe if you keep swallowing, you’ll stop the tears from climbing all the way up your throat. Because it’s all too raw. All of it. Him. You.This.

He’s unraveling in front of you. And even though you know—deep in your bones—that he doesn’t have the right to be this angry, a part of you gets it. Because this awful, splintered, aching love you have for him is confusing. It’s contradictory. It fucks with your brain so much that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting because he’s hurting too. 

And that’s all you can focus on.

It’s like you said:  nobody gets you and Hyuck. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a slow step forward. Close enough to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to.

His hand lingers.

“I don’t know what you want,” he breathes, “but if you tell me—I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath stutters. Your throat tightens.

And then, so quiet you almost miss it: “Because. I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to. You don’t even mean to. But those three words wrap around you tight. 

“Don’t,” your voice cracks. “Don’t say that to me, Hyuck. Not after everything.”

When you open your eyes again, they’re full of tears. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Hopeful ones too—because you’re weak, and stupid, and still a little bit in love with a boy who shattered you.

“I mean it,” he says instantly. His hand twitches at his side—you see it. He wants to touch you. Wants to wipe your tears like he used to because he hates them. But he doesn’t know if he has permission anymore. (He does, but he doesn’t know he does.)

“I’ve always meant it.”

“Then why’d you throw it all away?” You spit the words out like poison. “Why did you ruin us for a quick fuck?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, stepping back. “But I do know I hurt you. And I’ll hate myself for that forever. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You laugh. But it sounds more like a sob. “You have a funny way of showing love.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” you say, “except why you did it.”

A beat passes. Two. Three.

“You should go,” you whisper. “The party’s over. You’ve said what you needed to say. And I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

“No.”

Your eyes fly to his. He’s shaking his head, tongue in his cheek again as he sniffs.

“No,” he says again “I’m not leaving us like this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Liar.”

“Hyuck—”

“You want me to say it again?” he asks, voice rising just slightly. Not angry. Only desperate. “You want me to beg? Fine. I will. I’ll fucking get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”

And then, to your absolute horror, he does. 

“Hyuck, stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it. For her. For the lies. For shattering everything good we ever had. But I love you, Y/N. And I’m not sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for that.”

You’re trying to stay angry. Trying to hold onto the rage but it’s slipping. Because you want him. You love him.

He’s still on his knees. Still looking up at you. Still pleading. You wish he’d just stand up. You wish he didn’t look so much like the boy you fell in love with instead of the man who broke you.

“Please,” he says again.“I know I don’t get to ask. But I’m asking anyway. I’m asking because I love you. I never stopped. I swear to God, I never—”

“Stop it,” you say, too fast.

It feels like your chest caves in. Because the thing about love is: it’s loud. Louder than hurt. Especially right now. You love him so much you could scream. But instead, you drop down to your knees. Right there in front of him. And before you know it, your hands are reaching for him. Stupid, traitorous things.

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because he’s Hyuck. And Hyuck never knows when to shut up.

“I know I ruined it,” he’s saying. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop loving you. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve kissed girls who weren’t you and I’ve gone home wanting to claw off my own skin.”

You suck in a breath.

“You don’t have to forgive me now. Or ever. Just let me prove it. Let me try. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for fucking ever, I swear—”

You’re kissing him. 

You have no idea why, but it just feels like you have to. Because you physically can’t not. Because the love of your life, him, is bleeding out in front of you and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.

And when your mouth crahses into his, it tastes like heartbreak and history and every stupid, selfish thing he’s ever done. But you keep kissing him. Because just as much as it hurts—it feels like home. Like you’ve finally been returned to the place you belong. Like his lips have been waiting for yours all this time. 

He’s kissing you back just as fiercely. Like he might die if he doesn’t. And maybe he would. Maybe you would too.

You don’t know who moves first. You think it’s you, but maybe it’s him. You’re both equally desperate—lunging backward until his back knocks against the foot of your bedframe and you’re straddling his hips. 

His hands find your waist, landing heavy and possessive around you. But you don’t mind, because your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth—and God, you missed that sound. Missed him like oxygen.

His mouth moves to your neck, lips skimming every slither of skin he can reach, greedily not wanting to miss a single piece of you since he’s trying to make up for all the parts he used to take for granted. And you tilt your head back, giving him that access, because you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he breathes against your skin, half-choked.

You should tell him no. Should tell him he doesn’t get to ask things like that—not when he gave himself away so easily. Not now when he’ll never solely be yours like you’re solely his. 

But your heart is so tired and so in love it’s ridiculous, so instead you whisper: “I never stopped being yours.”

And then he’s kissing you again—deeper, this time. Until he pulls away and his forehead presses to yours, and he pants against your lips. “Let me love you,” he begs. “Please. Let me love you right this time.”

He feels solid beneath you. It’s making your brain fuzzy. It’s making you whimper.

“Okay,” you pant, tugging harder at those soft brown strands, as your hips shift and grind down against him, making him groan lowly. 

His hands clamp tighter around your waist, dragging you down harder, closer, like he’s trying to fuse you to him. And suddenly your skin feels too tight. You’re too aware of the clothes between you—what little there is.

Because you didn’t put on pants. Just that hoodie of his over your pathetic pair of black panties—thin, useless fabric—and now your pussy is rubbing right up against the thick outline of him through his jeans, and it’s overwhelming. You can feel absolutely everything you’ve missed.

Heat blooms in your stomach and you roll your hips again. It’s so shameless. So needy. But you don’t care. Not when it’s been this long. Not when it’s his fault it’s been this long—because you never would’ve let it be anyone else.

And he meets you in it. Each grind matched with one of his own, more harsh than the last. Until his hips are moving on impulse, chasing you like a man starved. His head drops to your shoulder, and his breath stutters. 

“Fuck, angel, slow down,” he chokes, “You’re killing me.”

You press your lips to his temple, to his jaw, anywhere you can reach, and whisper, breathless, “You deserve it.”

He groans—louder this time—like he agrees.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers splayed wide, dragging up the warm skin of your back like he’s relearning it. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he breathes into your neck. “You can’t be real.”

But you are. You’re right here. Straddling him. Shaking for him. Letting him touch you like he never stopped having the right to.

He kisses your collarbone. Then lower—your sternum, the tops of your breasts, the edge of lace peeking from beneath his hoodie. His hoodie. That fact alone seems to snap something inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s pushing the fabric up and up and up, until it pools around your ribs and the cold air hits your bare stomach. You shiver. 

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Please. Want to see you.”

You raise your arms, let him peel it over your head, and suddenly you’re half-naked in his lap—wearing nothing but that black set you wanted him to rip off, then didn’t, then did… and now, he is. Fingers working at the clasp, slipping the straps from your shoulders and tossing the bra aside in your room somewhere.

And then, he takes his time letting his eyes drag over you. Taking a sick pride in seeing his initial rest in the valley of your breast. 

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And something about that word—still—makes your stomach twist.

Your arms fold over your boobs on instinct, shielding yourself from the one person you’ve always felt safest with. Because still means there’s someone else now. Someone he’s looked at. Someone he’s touched. Someone you had to beat—and somehow did.

But you shouldn’t have had to.

He notices the shift immediately—how your arms cross, how your body goes stiff, how the room, warm just a second ago, chills.

“Hey. Hey,” he says, brows furrowing. He cups your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’re still straddling him, half-naked, kissed raw and dizzy, and yet you feel like you’re a million miles away. You try to speak, to explain, but the words choke you. How do you tell him something he’s never known? How do you make him understand? You’ve never done this to him before—and just knowing how much it hurts—you don’t think you ever could.

“I just—” your voice cracks. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

He flinches—just enough for you to know it landed. But he doesn’t pull away.

The thing is, he doesn’t say her name. Doesn’t even mention her. Never has. But she’s here. Right here. In this room. Your room. In the silence. In his presence.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to wipe the thought away. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t think about her. This—” his hands cup your face tighter, gently desperate, “—this is you and me. Always you.”

Your jaw clenches, your eyes sting. “Then why wasn’t it only me?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering away. He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He never does. And that’s been half the war between you. He doesn’t want to tell you the why.

Instead, his hands drift from your face to your waist, pulling you in like proximity might somehow make up for his silence. Like touch could smother your insecurities. 

His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in.“Forget her. Just for now. Right here, right now, it’s only you. Only us.”

You hate that you melt. Hate that the ache in your chest loosens its grip the second his hands coax your arms from where you’d folded them. Hate that even after everything, he still knows how to make you feel safe inside the wreckage he caused.

He’s infuriating.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “That it’s always only been you for me.”

His hands skim up your sides, thumbs brushing delicately beneath your tits. His eyes never leave yours—not for a second—as he kneads and explores and feels your body in his palm. And then his mouth follows.

Lips warm, slightly chapped, close around your right nipple. Your breath punches out of you. You can’t help it because his tongue flicks once, then again, then again until your spine arches and pushes the bud further into his mouth.

“Hyuck,” you moan, helpless, feeling the curve of his smirk drag against your skin.

His free hand trails up your other side, rolling the neglected peak between calloused fingers so deliciously because he remembers exactly what used to make you fall apart, and now he’s hell-bent on proving he hasn’t forgotten.

“God, you’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs against your skin, then bites gently, just enough to make you gasp. 

His words make you ache. Everywhere. Especially between your legs, where you’re still pressed tight against the thick, unrelenting shape of him through his jeans. And he hasn’t even touched you there yet, but it’s coming—you know it is. 

His mouth keeps going, warm and wet whilst he stays sucking just hard enough to turn your bones to water. And whenever you whimper he groans. 

“Please, Hyuck,” you plead. “Need more.”

He lifts his head, murmuring, “Yeah? You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You nod, dizzy. 

“Fuck,” he groans and wastes no time lifting you off the floor like it’s nothing, carrying you to your bed. He lays you down gently, spreads you out beneath him like something precious. And then he peels off his t-shirt.

That tan skin—scattered with moles you’ve memorised, counted, traced with your fingers and your mouth—is on full display, just for you.

“I’ll give you everything,” he says, voice low as he drops to his knees, crawling between your legs. “Absolutely everything. As long as you don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”

Your fingers sink into his hair before you can think. “I won’t,” you whisper. “Couldn’t.”

And then he dips down.

His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed kisses dragging tantalisingly up your skin. He’s not rushing. He never does when he gives head. It’s his favourite thing to savour. You. On his tongue.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, nipping at your skin, making you gasp. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself from texting. From begging you to take me back.”

“Who said anything about taking you back?” You say, hips shifting, dying for friction, but he pins them with strong hands, keeping you right where he wants you. 

“I did,” he says, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Am I wrong, Y/N? Because if I am, we can stop right now?”

“No,” you whine on a trembling breath.

He smiles. “I didn’t think so.”

Then, finally, finally—his mouth finds the place you need him most.

He licks a slow stripe up your center, groaning from the taste of you in his mouth. He does it again, and then again, until your legs are trembling and one of your hands fists the sheets, the other tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, just how he likes. Just how you like.

He flicks his tongue, circles it, moans when you cry out for more.

“God, you taste the same,” he says hoarsely. “Still fucking perfect.”

You try to respond, to say something, but then he sucks again, so hard, you almost shoot clean off the bed.

“Hyuck—please,” it’s half a sob, a half moan, one hundered percent completley ruined.

He growls, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still, mouth relentless as he licks and sucks and worships like this is his penance.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters between licks, “I missed how fucking responsive you are. Always so good for me.”

You whimper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” he promises. “Not until you fall apart for me. Right here. Right now.”

He hums, the vibration making your stomach flutter, and you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

“Let me make you come,” he says, voice completely ruined now too. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth. Please.”

And you do. You let him. Because you want this. Want him. Still. Always.

Your entire body coils, legs shaking, hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm crashes through you. It’s shattering, making you cry out, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

Hyuck doesn’t stop. Not until your body finally slumps back to the mattress, boneless and trembling. Only then does he lift his head, lips wet and shiny. He crawls up your body, kissing your thigh, your stomach, the underside of your boobs, your jaw. Everywhere. Until he’s hovering over you, and you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair gently back from your face.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah. I just... I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I never really left,” he says. “Even though I know I should have. I’m too damn selfish.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up, tracing his jaw with shaking fingers. “I want you to fuck me, Hyuck.”

He blinks, then his eyes darken. “You’re sure?”

You pull him down until your foreheads press again and then whisper a soft, “Yes.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Passionately in a way you know this about to be more than just fucking. It feels like the before. The soft. His hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Everything so tender and full of love. 

And somewhere between the kiss and the forgetting, his pants are off. His boxers too. He’s about to fuck you completely raw—like he used to—and for a moment, your body almost lets him. Because it remembers. The blind trust. 

But this isn’t then. And that’s why you reach out, fingers curling gently around his forearm. Stopping him.

“Condom,” you whisper, cheeks flushing as you glance toward the nightstand.

Because it shouldn’t have to be like this. Back then, you were on the pill. You were his. He was yours. There was no one else. But now? Now you’ve had to share him—with her. Maybe with others too. 

He freezes. And for a second, you swear he looks gutted. But then he nods.

Wordlessly, he reaches into your nightstand, gets one open and rolls it on his cock. He doesn’t protest. He never would. Because it’s not the condom that guts him—it’s what it means. It’s that reminder that everything’s different now. And why. A barrier he put there himself because he was reckless, drunk, stupid and ungrateful. A consequence he crafted with his own hands.

But he doesn’t let that thought linger too long. The past is the past—he hates thinking about it. It’s what wrecked him. What wrecked this. What wrecked you.

Now, all he wants is the present. Not even the future. Just this. Just you. Because you’re here. Beneath him. Asking him to fuck you. You’re his—if only for now. And that’s enough.

He slides back over you. And for a second—just one—you both just… look.

You’re looking at him like maybe this could fix it. He’s looking at you like he knows it won’t. Sex doesn’t fix anything. It’s what broke you two in the first place if you really think about it . But he’s still doing it. And so are you.

He pushes inside of you slowly and your breath stutters, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, voice tight and thick. “You feel like—”

“Home,” you whisper, beating him to it.

Because you do. And he does. And it’s pathetic. And perfect. And completely going to destroy you in the morning.

His forehead drops to yours and he lets out a shaky breath, like the kind that comes right before someone starts to cry. But he doesn’t cry—he moves. Gently. Tenderly. 

You cling to him, every nerve alight, oversensitive in that desperate, raw way that makes you breathless beneath him—letting him kiss you through it, through the pain, through the slow, aching stretch of him inside you. 

And in between those kisses and the thrusts and the way your fingers tangle in his hair again, he whispers:

“Missed you.”

“God, I missed you.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to put you back together with every snap of his hips. And maybe he is.

So you let him.

You let him fuck you until you’re both a mess of moans and apologies and, fractured I love yous. Until you’re panting in time with each other. Until you’re cumming—together.

After, it’s quiet.

Not awkward or bitter or biting, but comfortable. You’re tangled in each other, limbs overlapping, as Hyuck brushes his nose against your temple. Eventually, he slips out of you, careful to not hurt you, but you flinch at the loss. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one to each cheek, and then he’s moving—disposing of the condom, finding his way back to your side. 

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, thumb storoking your jaw. “Let me take care of you first. And after… we’ll talk, yeah?”

You don’t say anything—because you can’t. Your throat is raw from all the moaning and the whimpering. And also because you’re scared of the talking. Terrified, really. Of the hurting that’ll come with addressing it. 

So instead, you swallow and say softly, “I’ll be a minute. Just... need a sec before I move.”

He pauses, like he’s checking you over again, brows pinching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Not in the way he means.

“No,” you whisper. “Just… been out of the game for a while.”

He pauses but doesn’t argue. Just leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your cheek. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll start the shower.”

He slips out quietly, to the bathroom attached to your room. You hear the soft creak of the cabinets. He still remembers where everything is. 

And then—of course—his phone buzzes.

You glance over. You don’t mean to look. You really, really don’t. You know you shouldn’t if you wanna rebuild trust and whatever. It’s just…It’s on the floor, fallen from his jeans with the screen lighting up. 

It was taunting you. 

And anyway, he’s the one that broke your trust first. He’s the one that made you so paranoid. He’s the one who made you like this. 

Yeji

if i find out you went to that party tonight, hyuck, and didn’t tell her the truth, i will.

Your stomach drops straight through the mattress.

Another buzz.

Yeji

i’m serious. how long are you gonna keep it from her that it was lia you cheated on her with?

you’re ruining our friendship!

And suddenly you’re not warm anymore.

Suddenly you’re freezing. And hollow. And very, very awake and out of the afterglow sex haze. 

You can’t breathe.

You feel sick. 

Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you about to have a fucking panic attack?

Because it feels like something has clawed its way into your chest and is now eating you alive from the inside out.

Lia?

It all makes sense. It all echoes.

“That sweet boy we both used to love.”

“He’s not yours anymore.”

The door creaks again. Hyuck walks back in, towel slung low on his hips. Completely clueless. 

“You okay?” he asks, soft and smiling. “Shower’s warm.”

You don’t answer because your heart is hammering against your ribs and because you physically, viscerally, cannot breathe.

His smile falters, just a touch.

And then you say it.

One word. One name.

“Lia?”

You’re not even sure if you want to scream at him, or sob, or laugh—because how dare he. How dare he touch you like that, kiss you like that, look at you like that, when he knew—he fucking knew—he’d fucked your best friend and said nothing.

The same best friend who held you while you cried over him for a year. Who told you it wasn’t your fault. Who had her arms wrapped around you less than an hour ago trying to comfort you about him. 

You hold out his phone, pointing to the screen. “You fucked my best friend, Hyuck?”

He freezes. He lifts an arm reaching out towards you or towards his phone, you can’t tell. Probably the phone to see how much you know so he can spin it. Twist it. Try to manipulate this—manipulate you—again.

“Angel—”

“My name is Y/N.”

The words are a blade. His hand drops.

“Y/N,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “it’s not what it looks like—”

But it is. You both know it. 

“Yeji seems to think it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

And then it hits you. All over again. Yeji knew. Your other best friend. She knew. 

Did everyone know? Everyone you loved? Everyone you trusted? Everyone you thought was safe? 

And suddenly your knees give out. You drop to the floor, spine hitting the edge of the bed on the way down, but you don’t even register the pain. You’re already somewhere else, hands trembling, vision blurry, gasping like there’s no oxygen. 

That fucking necklace around your neck—the one he gave you, the one you swore you'd never take off—isn’t fucking helping. So you rip it off. The chain snapping in your fist and you throw it. It lands at his feet. 

It’s the first time you’ve taken it off since you were sixteen.

“Y/N—”

Hyuck’s voice sounds panicked now. Hurting. He kneels in front of you, eyes wide, reaching for you—

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

You flinch so hard you nearly hit the nightstand. You can’t stand the idea of him touching you now, even though you know there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched.

He freezes. Arm stopping in the air. His face furrowed. And you know that face. The face from the night, the one carved from guilt and horror and regret—but it’s too late.

It’s so late.

You’re sobbing now. And it’s ugly—gasping and choking and curling up on the floor. 

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you—”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, spit and snot and mascara streaking your face.  “Hyuck, you fucked my best friend. And then you came here, tonight, and touched me like…like I was still yours.”

“You are—”

“No. No, I’m not!” You snap. “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely am not—and never will be—yours again.”

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers. “Let me explain. It wasn’t—”

“You’ve had time to explain.” Your voice trembles, but the words are steel. “I gave you so much of myself. So much trust. So much love.” You swallow hard. “But it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to fuck my best friend. And keep it from me. And somehow rope the other one into it too, so now—”

Your voice cracks.

“So now I can’t trust anyone.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to lie, maybe to beg. But then he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you, regret written in every line of his stupid, beautiful face.

He doesn’t deny it. And that’s the last straw. You fold in on yourself. Arms wrapping tight around your knees as you bury your head and whisper: “I need you to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

You look up—eyes glassy, voice so quiet and weak.

“Get out, Hyuck. Now, please”

And this time, he listens. And you’re glad he listens. Because this time it feels different. This was it. The final fracture. Whatever you had with him? It’s dead now. You just wish you hadn’t kept it on life support for so long—wish you hadn’t clung so tightly to something already bleeding. 

Two nights after that, Jimin and you are having dinner at a fancy restaurant in town. Jimin having received her bonus pay-check and you finally getting your TA request accepted, you both decided to treat yourselves. Take each other out while you both talked about your accomplishments over the week.

"I can't believe it took Professor Cha ages to read your email. If Jisung hadn't reminded him of the TA opening?" Jimin expresses her annoyance on behalf of you, making you chuckle.

"I know. It's ridiculous, but he saved my ass by asking that question. I'm pretty sure Yuta was the one who asked him to ask, he doesn't speak much."

"That's 'cause he's reserved. Have you seen him at the club? Boy is quiet but knows how to bust a move."

"I know. I'm thinking of signing up for one of his dance workshops— y'know, the one he set up for charity? All donations are going to an animal shelter."

"Ugh, and he's an animal lover too? I swear if I wasn't already head over heels for Haena's dad, I would have a crush on Yuta."

You take a sip out of your drink. It was a mix of Vodka, sprite, and something sweet. It was tangy, maybe a hint of citrus was in it too.

"Are you serious about your crush on Jaemin?" You ask, bewildered at your friend. You've all joked about liking Mr. Na, Haena's dad was named Jaemin, but Jimin actually seemed infatuated.

You couldn't really blame her. He was an attractive man, and it was rare for a forty year old to look that good.

"Serious? No. Definitely not, I'd never do that to Haena, but in another life? Yes. Girl, have you seen his body? I bet he works out when he's not handling court cases."

You chuckle, "You'd think so."

"Hey," Jimin softly tapped your shoulder then pointed at the table behind you. "Isn't that Mr. Na?"

"Okay, Jimin, I know you like him but there's no way he'd be here," You turn around to prove your point but widen your eyes when Jaemin walks in, and he isn't alone.

"He's here. Oh my God— Is he on a date?" Jimin asks, bewildered although slightly amused. You, on the other hand, have a confused look on your face. He doesn't seem too interested in his date, in fact he's looking at the interior of the restaurant instead of her.

"Ugh, there goes my one-sided love," Jimin sinks into her chair, feigning sadness. You laugh at your friend and nudge her feet with your heel. "It was nice while it was lasted."

"Haena's gonna be happy." You smile, picking at your salad. "Do you think she knows?"

Jimin's playful demeanour switches to a much more serious look, both concern and sympathy wash over the two of you as you think about your close friend.

"It hasn't been that long since they divorced, right? Maybe she does." Jimin glances at them over your shoulder again then shrugs, "I hope she does."

"Yeah," You nod and continue eating your dinner together.

The two of you continue to talk about your week; Jimin lets you know she's having an art exhibition for a charity event at the end of this week and you let her know you'll be there. Jimin was an incredible artist who ventured out with local artists outside of university to branch out and make connections.

She's had three solo exhibitions and one collaboration exhibition coming up. Proud was an understatement when it came to Jimin.

After some time, you excuse yourself to powder your face, literally, because you could feel your makeup sweating off you from the bright lights in the restaurant.

On the way back to the table, you spot a figure standing by your table talking to Jimin, who's eager to call you over once she sees you standing from afar.

"Y/N! Guess who came over to say hi," Jimin's eyes were giving you a hint. A glaringly obvious hint that at first was not received very well until you turned your head and saw who it was.

You controlled your face muscles from showing a reaction, only briefly widening your eyes back at Jimin as you looked back at Mr. Na.

"Mr. Na, what a coincidence! Jimin and I were just having a girls night out."

Jaemin is calm and collected, quiet confidence radiating off him from the way he stands. He's quiet, always the polite man he is and gives a kind smile to you and Jimin.

"Jimin's mentioned. I hear you girls have accomplished a lot since your graduation," Jaemin's eyes linger on you, they dart lower but before he gets caught he looks back at Jimin.

"Is that Haena over-exaggerating again?" Jimin asks, earning a laugh from Jaemin.

"I'm sure it isn't at all." He nods his head, "I should get back to my appointment. You girls enjoy dinner."

"Thank you, Mr. Na." Jimin says on behalf of you two.

You're subconsciously playing with the bracelets that adorn your wrists, catching Jaemin's attention. Your hands were right by the slit of your dress that stopped mid-thigh.

You don't notice his gaze on your exposed thigh, talking to Jimin about what dessert to order.

He clears his throat, "Please, call me Jaemin." He says, looking at Jimin then you. "I'll see you girls around."

Jaemin walks away without turning back, giving you and Jimin the chance the gawk at his back. He may be a man of few words but he was a very, very suave and attractive fella.

"God, his voice and that suit. Sign me up."

"Jimin!" You scold as you sit back down in your chair, taking your napkin to rest on your lap.

Jimin and you end up ordering a slice of lemon cheesecake for dessert. Halfway through your conversation you look around the restaurant and lock eyes with Jaemin, who's staring at your table. The two of you look at each other, giving each other a polite smile, then you go back to listening to Jimin.

Before leaving, Jimin and you are getting ready to pay for dinner when the waiter comes over to tell you that it's been taken care of.

Jaemin meets you and Jimin at the receptionist.

"Mr. Na— I mean, Jaemin. Thank you for paying for our dinner. You really didn't have to." Jimin began, speaking of behalf of you and her.

"Nonsense, it was my pleasure." Jaemin says, "Did you two have a good meal?" Jaemin turns to look at you.

You smile, "We did. Dessert was good." You say, thinking nothing of it. Jaemin smiles at your comment, nodding his head to himself.

Jaemin's guest pushes herself against Jaemin's arms, looking upset over something none of you have a clue about.

Jimin's eyes widened when his guest brazenly pushes her breasts against his arm. Jaemin, unaffected by the action, keeps his eyes on you as he nods.

"Do you girls need a ride home?"

"No, thank you." Jimin is quick to say, meanwhile you glance at the glare his guest is directing at you. After saying goodbye, with a confused look, you wave and follow after Jimin.

You barely miss the words, "Why do you keep staring at her?" slip through her lips while you walk out.

A month later you were helping Haena move out of her childhood bedroom.

Yuna was away for holiday, Jimin was caught up in work, so you were the only person aside from Jaemin, to help Haena out. You spent a good chunk of the day packing all of her things with her, then when it was time to load up the things into the truck, the movers and Jaemin took over. That left you and Haena to relax in the kitchen.

"Thanks again for helping me, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Of course," You smiled, taking a sip out of your orange juice. "What are friends for, Haena."

"Darling," Haena looked up from her phone to her father calling her by the kitchen doorway. You ignored the fluttering feeling in your stomach. He was talking to his daughter — who was your friend!

"Yeah, dad?"

Jaemin's eyes flickered to you then back to Haena. He was dressed in all black; black sweater with slacks that suited him perfectly.

"The movers need you to be there since they don't have a key to the apartment. Is your roommate home? You girls need me to drop you off?" Jaemin asked, looking at the two of you.

You got up to follow after Haena but she shook her head.

"No it's okay, I can drive. Yeri won't be back yet so I have to be there. I'll be quick though, Y/N. You can stay here and rest."

"What?" You asked, "I can go with you it's no problem, Hae."

"No, you've helped enough. I don't wanna be at the apartment long anyway, I'm coming back." Haena grabbed her car keys and smiled, "Y/N, just make yourself comfortable. This is practically your second home."

You laughed at Haena's words but hugged her goodbye, telling her you'd be in her room while waiting for her. Most of your things were in her room and you needed to sort out the classroom files on your laptop.

Once Haena left, it was just you in the kitchen as Jaemin walked Haena to her car. You typed away on your phone when you heard a clink of a mug right across from you.

"Coffee?" Jaemin asked, holding up a jug of black coffee which was not unusual, but it was already midday and from habit you remember Haena mentioning Jaemin's spike in coffee addiction.

"No, that's okay. I'm not a fan of bitter things." You politely declined, "Haena mentioned you were getting a promotion, Mr. Na?"

Jaemin smiled to himself as he put the jug away, taking moment to drink his coffee as he leaned against the counter across from you.

"Not really," He said. "I don't really get promotions, I just submit potential applicants who are qualified for the promotions." He informed kindly, "And I've told you to call me Jaemin, Y/N."

"Right," You say sheepishly.

"How has work been for you? Any troubles?" Jaemin asked.

The two of you indulge in small talk until Jaemin gets a call, that he takes in front of you. By the end of it, he's pissed. He doesn't yell, in fact it's impressive that he keeps his cool, but his strict demeanour is almost mesmerising to watch. Jaemin's stern voice triggers a memory.

Jaemin's eyes catches yours while he talks in business, the words don't make sense to you but his actions and his attitude does. Something in your body language shifts that makes Jaemin turn his attention solely on you.

When he hangs up, he tilts his head at you.

"Was there something on me?"

You snap out of your daze and shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"No, Mr. Na." Quickly, you cleared your throat then looked at him seriously. Jaemin matches your stance by titling his head. "The other day, when Jimin and I saw you at the restaurant, did I cause any trouble between you and your... guest?"

Jaemin's eyebrows crease together, then he remembered.

"Oh," Jaemin chuckled. "You didn't cause any trouble at all. Chaeyoung hates when the attention isn't on her."

Your mind fixates on his words. Who was he paying attention to?

"So, you two... serious?"

Jaemin laughs, a hearty one that almost makes you smile. For an older man, he had a boyish laugh — you found that attractive.

"Are you asking for Haena or for you?" Jaemin asked. Before you can respond, he continues, "She was a date. Just one, though. Didn't click very well with her."

"That's a shame." You nodded. "Does Haena know...?"

You supposed it was weird to be talking about love and the topic of dates with your friend's father but Jaemin always treated Haena's friends as adults and if the girls were with you, they'd be prying into his love life too.

There were many occasions where Jimin and Yuna had to be stopped by Haena the last time Jaemin accompanied the girls to a dinner.

Jaemin lips the corner of his lips as he contemplates how to answer that. Haena's mother and Jaemin got divorced recently, this topic could be too fresh to handle, but Jaemin didn't exactly try to hide that he was on a date.

"No." He said, as though it was finalised. "There are some things that are... well, they don't do well if they were known so openly." His eyes stay on yours then very slowly, as if intentionally, he drags his gaze down over your top, back up to your face, lingering on your lips?

"Mr. Na?" You can't help but feel giddy at the look he's giving you, but you don't want to entertain delusional hope. Not that you hoped for him to do something.

That would be crazy, right?

The energy buzzes. You don't know how it happens or what causes it to, but you're certain it isn't you. Jaemin takes three steps to stand in front of you, your nose is barely an inch away from his chest, almost grazing the material of his shirt when you look up at him.

He delicately tucks a stray hair behind your ear, leans in close and almost brushes his lips against your ear.

"Jaemin." You can hear the smile in his voice, yet you still turn to look at him. He doesn't move away, he only watches your expression change into curiosity. "Just Jaemin."

In a blink of an eye he's walking away from you and you're left with an aching feeling between your legs as you grip the marble counter with a sigh.

Jimin would scream if she was here. You, however, try to take your mind off of it while you're doing work in Haena's room.

Time flies by quick the longer you're stuck in your document that by the time Jaemin comes up to tell you dinner is ready, the sun has set and it's a quarter to eight. Haena still isn't home and you haven't gotten a text from her, which was weird.

Haena no matter how busy always kept you in the loop, especially if she was with you the hour before. Or, hours before.

As if to tell you something, it thunders outside and a second later, you get a call from Haena.

"Hey, are you okay?" You take the call as you watch the rain pour from her window. It's too heavy, even if you wanted to drive home, you couldn't get to your car.

"I'm okay! I got caught in the rain and decided to turn back so I'm gonna be staying in the apartment until the rain dies down. You okay at home?" Haena asks, her sweet voice asking out of concern.

"I am, just feels weird to be staying here without you actually here." You mutter to yourself, trying to find your car, but the rain is adamant on the opposite.

"I don't think I can drive home either. I can't find my damn car." You complain, rolling your eyes when Haena laughs.

"I told you to park in the garage. You're just so stubborn."

"Not the time," You groan. "Do you have food, at least? It doesn't look like it's gonna stop anytime soon."

"Yeah, I've got things to cook here. Thank God." Haena moves around in the apartment, "Where's my dad?"

At the mention of Jaemin, your mind drifts back to the tiny kitchen incident. You play with the hem of your sweater.

"Probably somewhere in the house," You say, "I've been in your room the whole time. He probably thinks I fell asleep."

Haena laughs, "Most likely. Look, just make yourself comfortable. You know where your clothes are in my closet."