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The only sound echoing in the shared apartment is the faint buzz of your phone on the kitchen counter and the soft, rhythmic panting filtering through the crack of Sunghoon’s door.
You were just getting water. Just water.
And yet here you are.
Frozen. In the hallway. Barefoot in his oversized shirt because laundry day got delayed, staring at the way his door is just barely ajar.
You should’ve walked past. You should’ve respected boundaries.
But the whimper that escapes from inside?
You blink. Slowly.
“Fuck—oh my god,” his voice stutters, low and raspy. “F-fuck, Y/N…”
Your name.
Your. Name.
You inhale sharply, but it doesn’t help—your thighs press together instinctively, and your fingers curl against the cold glass of the water you were holding like it’ll ground you. But it won’t. Not with the image now forming behind your eyelids. Sunghoon. One hand gripping his phone, the other likely between his legs. Probably leaking and messy and looking so desperate it’d be laughable if you weren’t imagining pressing your foot against his chest while he begged.
It’s not the first time you’ve suspected something. He’s always too nervous around you. Always lingering in your laundry loads. Always stuttering when you wear those old shorts. You’d catch him sneaking glances, acting like you were some goddess and he was just your awkward little servant.
But this? Hearing him moan your name while gooning out alone in his room?
You should walk away.
You don’t.
You push the door open instead.
His eyes snap up in a panic, his phone slipping from his hand mid-stroke. He’s a wreck— sweats pulled all the way down only wearing a shirt on , flushed skin glowing in the dim glow of his laptop screen. And of course, your Twitter page is open. One of your thirst traps playing on loop. Low volume, but not low enough to hide.
“Y/N—!” he gasps, scrambling, trying to cover himself but making it worse because he’s still so obviously hard, cock twitching as if it knows you’re watching.
You blink slowly, leaning against the frame. “You forgot to lock your door.”
His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. His face burns red. He’s petrified.
“Or maybe you didn’t want to.” You step forward. “Maybe you wanted me to see you like this. All fucked out over nothing. Over me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless little sound, hand still halfway frozen between covering himself and not wanting to lose the contact.
“You really are such a loser, Hoon,” you coo. “Jerking off to my videos? In our apartment?”
He nods.
He fucking nods.
“I can’t help it,” he rasps, barely audible. “You always look so—fuck, I didn’t mean for you to hear—I just—I was gonna clean up, I swear—”
You reach out and curl your fingers under his jaw, forcing him to look up.
“You really want to come for me that bad?” you whisper. “Then keep your hands off yourself. And let me watch you fall apart properly.”
The way he whines at that, eyes fluttering, cock throbbing untouched?
Yeah.
Your loser gooner roommate’s never going to recover from this.
You haven’t even said another word before Sunghoon’s already halfway falling apart again.
He’s still trembling — half-naked, sitting pathetically at the edge of his bed like a dog caught misbehaving. Your phone is in his lap, your video still playing, but his eyes won’t leave you now. Like you're the real thing. Like you’re his goddess incarnate.
You slide closer, push his laptop off the bed without a care, and straddle his thigh. You feel him tense — his hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he’s too scared to move.
“You’re such a mess,” you whisper, tilting his chin up. “Wanna be useful for once, baby boy?”
His throat bobs. “Y-Yes. Anything.”
“Good.” You lean in, breath hot in his ear. “Then get on your knees.”
He drops so fast you almost laugh. Not even a second of hesitation. He’s already settling between your legs as you recline back on his bed, spreading them slowly, letting him see the wet patch soaking through your panties.
His eyes widen. Lips part.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I made you wet?”
“You’ve been making me wet,” you admit, tugging his hair. “You’re just too much of a clueless little loser to do anything about it. Always walking around with that hard-on, thinking I didn’t notice?”
He whimpers. Literally whimpers.
But you don’t wait for him to get shy. You hook your thumbs under your panties and pull them to the side, baring yourself right in front of his face.
“Go ahead,” you purr. “Use that mouth. Let me see if you’re good for more than just jerking off to my voice.”
Sunghoon dives in like he’s been starved.
And god — he’s so eager. All tongue, all sloppiness, mouthing at you with zero rhythm but so much heart. You almost laugh again when he moans into you like your pussy is the holy grail. And honestly? The way your hips twitch? Maybe it is.
“God, you’re obsessed,” you groan, grinding against his mouth. “Do you even know what you’re doing or are you just that fucking desperate?”
But Sunghoon doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets worse — hungrier, messier, hands grabbing at your thighs like you’ll float away if he lets go. He’s making the kind of sounds you should be making. Like he’s the one getting off from this.
He probably is.
When you glance down, he’s rutting his hips into the bed, fully hard again, untouched. You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his head back, slick coating his lips, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.
“Look at you,” you smirk. “Fucking gone.”
“I can’t stop,” he pants. “You taste so—fuck, please let me finish. I can make you cum, I swear—”
“Oh? You think you earned it?”
He nods wildly, tongue flicking out as if he's hoping you'll drag him back in.
So you do.
And this time, he figures it out — tongue flattening just right, sucking at your clit like he’s trying to memorize it. When you moan and grab the back of his head tighter, he whines into you, bucking against the bed like he’s close just from this.
“God—Sunghoon—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. Can’t.
You cum on his face with a sharp gasp, legs trembling around his ears, and he just stays there — moaning, still licking, worshipping like your pleasure is the only thing he exists for.
And when your hips twitch from overstimulation and you finally tug him off with a shaky breath, he looks up at you like he’s been reborn. Panting. Rock hard. Flushed and so stupidly in love with you it hurts.
“You came, right?” he says breathlessly. “Was I… Did I do good?”
You pause, eyeing the mess between his legs, your slick still on his lips.
Then you smile.
“Better than your hand, loser.”
You haven’t even caught your breath yet.
Your thighs are still trembling, still sensitive, and Sunghoon’s face is still between them, lips swollen, chin soaked. His eyes are dazed and glassy — drunk off your taste, off the sounds you made, off the fact that he was the one to pull those sounds out of you.
He looks like he’s floating.
You tug him up by the collar of his shirt — the only thing he’s still wearing — and he comes willingly, breath ragged, eyes wide.
You kiss him.
You shouldn’t. It’s too much. It blurs the line between filthy and… real.
But the moment your lips crash against his, it’s over. He melts into it, mouth moving sloppily against yours, tongue eager and messy and needy. He moans into your mouth like he forgot he just made you cum with his tongue.
You taste yourself on his lips. He doesn’t care. He kisses like he’s grateful. Like he never thought you’d let him this close.
“Fuck,” you whisper into the kiss. “You’re so fucking gone.”
Sunghoon nods frantically, lips brushing yours, voice breathy. “I—I’ve never—no one’s ever tasted like you. No one’s ever let me—”
You shut him up with another kiss. He sighs into it.
It’s filthy. Sloppy. Your spit is on his chin, his on your lips, your slick still drying on his cheeks and neck. His hands tremble as they rest on your hips like he’s afraid to grip too tight, like he still thinks this is a dream he’ll wake up from.
And god — the way he ruts up against your thigh, still hard, untouched — it’s almost adorable.
“Still hard?” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re such a little gooner. All I did was let you taste me and you’re ready to blow again.”
“Can’t help it,” he groans. “I think about you all the time. Every day. You walk around in your towel and it’s over. I—I almost came in the laundry room once just smelling your shampoo.”
You let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You’re sick.”
He nods like it’s a compliment. “Only for you.”
And maybe it is.
You push him back onto the bed with a firm hand, and he falls flat on his back with a breathless “oof”—and his cock jumps at the sound.
“Stay,” you command.
Sunghoon obeys immediately, hands by his sides, chest rising and falling with every labored breath. You climb over him, hovering above his twitching cock — flushed, leaking, desperate for any kind of friction.
“Been saving this for me?” you ask, dragging a finger down his stomach, nails grazing lightly. “Bet you could’ve cum from just eating me out if I let you.”
He whines. “I almost did. I didn’t even—fuck, please. Please ride me.”
You cock your head. “That what you want, baby?”
“Yes—yes—I need it, I need you so bad—”
You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion and the sound he makes is feral. He’s practically vibrating beneath you. Like his skin’s too tight for his body.
You sink down slowly onto his cock, watching his face contort — brows scrunching, mouth dropping open, the sweetest, most broken moan spilling out of him. His hands fly to your waist but hesitate again, unsure.
“Touch me,” you breathe. “Hold me while I fuck you.”
And he does. Oh, he does. His grip is reverent, tight like he’s holding the sun in his lap and doesn’t want it to burn him. You start to move — slow, teasing, letting him feel every inch of you with every roll of your hips.
Sunghoon is loud. Whining your name. Gasping like he’s overwhelmed.
“You fit so good,” he groans, hips bucking without meaning to. “Tighter than I imagined—fuck—I’m sorry—”
“You imagined this?”
“Every night,” he confesses through a breathless moan. “After you shower, when you say goodnight in those shorts. I fuck my hand so hard thinking about your pussy wrapped around me—fuck—I even used your towel once—”
You laugh, wicked and warm. “You really are disgusting.”
“I know,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry—I’m so fucking obsessed with you—”
You ride him harder.
His back arches, head pressed into the mattress, and he makes this pitiful, high-pitched noise as your pace increases — your slick dripping down to his thighs, his hands clawing at your skin.
“Gonna cum,” he sobs. “I-I can’t—I’m gonna cum so fast, I’m sorry—please don’t stop—”
“Don’t,” you growl, gripping his face. “You’ll cum when I say.”
“Y-Yes—yes, please—just tell me when—”
He looks ruined. Pretty and red and trembling beneath you. It’s not just sex — it’s worship. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. Like he can’t believe this is real.
You lean in, kissing him again — messy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his whimpers swallowed by your lips.
“I want you to cum inside me, loser,” you whisper darkly into his mouth. “Wanna feel how full you can make me. Think you can do that for me?”
He sobs — actually sobs — and then cries out, “Yes, yes, please, please—fuck—I’m cumming—!”
And he does. Hard.
It hits him like a freight train — his entire body jolting as he empties into you, gasping your name, pulling you close like you’re air. He holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.
You fuck him through it. Ride it out until he’s twitching and oversensitive, until he’s begging through whimpers, tears in his eyes.
“I can’t—I can’t—it’s too much—”
You finally slow, leaning down to kiss his damp cheek, his jaw, whispering softly.
“You did so good for me, Hoonie,” you murmur, brushing sweaty strands from his forehead. “My good little gooner.”
He smiles weakly, eyes fluttering.
And then?
He passes out. Fully wrecked. Totally blissed out. Still twitching inside you.
The sun is barely up.
Your thighs ache in the best way. Your neck is marked, your core is still dripping from what happened last night — and Sunghoon?
Sunghoon is snoring quietly. Dead to the world. One arm thrown lazily over your waist, face pressed against your chest like you’re a body pillow he clung to in his dreams.
You should feel awkward. Or guilty. Or something.
Instead, you just watch him.
There’s a little bit of drool dried at the corner of his mouth. His hair is a mess, and he smells like you — your sweat, your slick, your shampoo.
You slowly shift, brushing your thigh between his legs.
He twitches.
Hard.
Still hard.
You grin.
Sunghoon stirs, nose nuzzling your skin, a low groan escaping his lips before his eyes crack open. He blinks blearily at your chest, and then—slowly—realizes you’re still here. Naked. In his bed. Tangled with him.
And his morning wood is pressed right against your thigh.
“Morning, baby,” you whisper sweetly, brushing hair from his eyes.
He flushes deep red. “Oh my god. I didn’t dream that, did I?”
“Nope.” You kiss his nose. “You came so hard you passed out. It was adorable.”
He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Kill me.”
You laugh softly, running your nails down his back. “Why would I kill my favorite toy?”
Sunghoon’s whole body shudders at that. You feel his cock jump.
“You’re evil,” he whispers.
“And you love it,” you counter.
He doesn’t deny it.
You roll slightly, nudging your hips just enough to feel him twitch again.
Sunghoon swallows, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking to your lips. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”
“You already did. Last night. Multiple times.”
He groans again, hiding under the blanket like it’ll erase the memory of his whining and sobbing into your mouth while you rode him senseless.
“…I liked it,” he says after a beat. Voice soft. “All of it. Even when you called me a pathetic little gooner.”
You smirk. “Because you are.”
He blinks. Hesitates. Then — with the shakiest burst of confidence — rolls over you, pinning your wrists. It would be hot… if he didn’t immediately look panicked like he’s not sure if he has permission.
“…Sunghoon.”
“Yeah?” he whispers, already nervous.
“You think you’re gonna take control now?”
He bites his lip. “I just thought—maybe—I could try?”
You look at his arms trembling, his cock twitching against your thigh like he’s overwhelmed just from being on top. He’s so pretty. So eager. So doomed.
You pull one hand free easily and cup the back of his neck, dragging him down into a kiss.
It’s slow, hot — tongue and teeth, his hips jerking without rhythm. And then you roll your hips up just once — grinding your slick against his length — and he whimpers right into your mouth.
That’s all it takes.
He collapses back into submission, lips trailing down to your jaw as you whisper, “You really thought I’d let you flip this on me?”
“I—I just…” He sighs. “I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You did,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding up against him again. “But you do that better when you’re whining under me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless sound as you push him back, reversing your positions again until you’re on top. His eyes flutter, chest rising fast.
“Round two?” you murmur, guiding him to your entrance.
He nods so fast it’s almost dizzying. “Yes. Please. Ride me again. I’ll be good—better—I’ll last this time, I swear—”
You sink down on him in one smooth motion, and his sentence dissolves into a cry.
“Fuck—! I’m gonna—!”
You put a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so, loser.”
His eyes roll back.
You’re not letting him out of that bed until the sun’s fully up.
You sink onto him in one smooth, claiming motion — his cock stretching you again, thick and warm, filling you so perfectly you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.
Underneath you, Sunghoon looks like he’s about to cry.
His fingers dig into the sheets, arms trembling as he fights the urge to buck into you, to chase that pleasure like the pathetic little addict he is. His mouth falls open — no words, no sounds, just wide eyes and flushed cheeks and one trembling breath after another.
You’re not even moving yet.
“Still sensitive?” you whisper, dragging your nails up his stomach.
“Y-Yeah,” he pants. “Too much—you're too warm, I—I’m gonna—”
You press your palm to his chest, steadying him. “No, you’re not.”
He nods quickly — like a good boy — biting down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You grind down, slow and deep, circling your hips just once.
Sunghoon sobs.
“Fucking hell—” he gasps. “Why does it feel better this time—?”
You lean in, your chest brushing his, lips at his ear. “Because you’re pussy drunk , baby.”
He whimpers.
“Because your loser brain is short-circuiting. Can’t even think straight. Just lying here like a pretty little toy for me to fuck.”
His hands fly to your hips, but you grab both wrists and pin them down.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“I-I’m sorry—!”
You roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, your pussy gripping him tight — dragging over every sensitive nerve inside him. His head throws back against the pillow, a choked moan tumbling out, and his toes curl against the sheets.
“You said you’d last,” you purr. “So show me, Hoonie.”
You begin to ride him — slow at first, deep, every bounce designed to drive him insane. He’s shaking. Trying to stay quiet. Trying so hard to obey you even though he’s unraveling.
Your hands press to his chest, and you can feel how hard his heart is racing.
“You can’t handle this, can you?” you ask sweetly. “This pussy’s too good for your pathetic little brain.”
His whole body shudders.
“I c-can!” he moans. “I swear, I—I can take it—please, just don’t stop—please—”
You ride him harder.
The sound of skin against skin fills the room — slick and obscene and perfect — and Sunghoon starts making those noises again. Those pretty, broken, breathless moans like he’s being ruined all over again. His body jerks every time you sink down on him, thighs trembling, abs flexing.
“Fuck—fuck—oh my god—”
“Say it,” you growl, bouncing faster now, grinding your clit against his base with every thrust. “Say you’re my fucktoy.”
“I’m—!” His voice breaks. “I’m your fucktoy—I’m yours—please use me, I wanna make you cum again, I’ll do anything—”
You slam down hard — all the way — and stay there, grinding in tight circles.
And that’s when he starts to cry.
Just a tear or two at first — overwhelmed, overstimulated, emotionally wrecked — and it’s beautiful. He’s flushed and glassy-eyed, his lip trembling, looking up at you like you’re everything.
“Can’t—can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can.”
“I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
You slap his cheek — gentle, firm — just once.
His eyes roll back, and he screams as he cums inside you again, loud and messy and raw, his whole body arching up off the bed as he spills everything into you.
Hot.
Heavy.
Way too much.
You ride him through it — overstimulating him, holding him down as he thrashes, twitching under you, gasping your name like a prayer and a curse.
His legs kick weakly, his hips jerking, a sob caught in his throat.
When he finally goes limp — sweaty, flushed, trembling — you slow your movements, grinding slowly just to ride out your own wave.
Your orgasm hits a second later.
Silently, this time. Deep, intense. Your walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop out of his twitching, oversensitive cock.
You collapse onto his chest, panting, skin hot, sweat clinging.
Sunghoon is wrecked.
Tears streaking his temples. Lips parted. Eyes barely open.
He looks so ruined, so small beneath you — but so happy.
You brush his hair back and kiss his damp forehead. “Still with me, baby?”
He swallows thickly. Nods.
“I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers.
You smile.
“You did good.”
He smiles too — soft, dreamy.
Then mumbles, “I think you broke my brain.”
You laugh softly, shifting just enough to tuck yourself against him without pulling off yet. “Good. You won’t need it anymore.”
And like the good, sweet, dumb little loser he is, Sunghoon falls asleep with you still wrapped around him — twitching every few minutes from overstimulation and murmuring your name like it’s carved into him.
When you wake again, the room smells like sex and sweat and still-Sunghoon.
Your legs ache, your body’s sore in all the right places — and wrong ones — and your head is still spinning from the blur of moans and messy kisses and the way he cried when you came again on his cock.
But now it’s morning.
And everything is… still.
You’re tucked into his side, but the space around you is cold — his body heat only lingering on the sheets. For a second, panic flickers in your chest. Did he leave? Did he freak out?
Then—
Soft footsteps.
The bathroom door creaks open.
He stands there in only a towel, hair still dripping, cheeks flushed.
“I started the shower,” he says, voice gentle. “It’s warm now. Thought you’d want one.”
You stare at him for a beat too long, brain catching up.
“…You’re being weird.”
He gives a soft laugh. “I know. Just—come on. Let me take care of you.”
You slide off the bed, muscles stiff, but his arms are there — immediately — wrapping around you like you’re precious. No teasing, no filthy comments. Just warmth.
Just him.
The shower’s fogging up the mirror. He helps you in first, hands on your waist, steadying you when you wince at the water hitting your sore thighs. Then he steps in behind you and pulls the curtain closed.
Silence.
Steam.
You wait for him to say something pervy.
But instead?
He pumps the body wash into his hand and starts lathering it down your back — gentle, focused. Massaging sore muscles, kissing your shoulder softly as he works.
You blink. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with loser Hoon?”
He grins — shy. Still Hoon. “He’s still here. He’s just… being serious for once.”
“…You sure about that?”
He turns you around — softly — cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. His eyes hold yours, and they don’t wander. Not to your chest. Not between your thighs.
Just… you.
“You didn’t have to be gentle with me last night,” he murmurs. “I wanted to be used. I meant it. But…”
His voice wavers just a little.
“…that’s not all I want from you.”
You blink. Heart thudding louder than the water falling between you.
“I know I’ve been a fucking mess,” he says, laughing at himself softly. “A gooner. A loser. Whimpering over you like a dog in heat. But I swear, that’s not the only me.”
He takes a shaky breath.
“And I know you’ve been in control. I loved that. I love how you take me apart. But I still want to be someone you can lean on, too. Someone who remembers to heat the shower before you step in. Who learns how to actually last more than two minutes just so I can take you apart. Not just your body, but…”
His thumb brushes under your eye.
“…your heart.”
You stare at him, stunned speechless for once.
He takes the chance to finish washing you — gentle hands gliding over your skin, washing between your legs with care and reverence, kissing your knuckles when he reaches for the shampoo. And when the water runs clear and warm again, he finally speaks once more:
“I don’t wanna be your toy forever,” he whispers. “I wanna be your person.”
You blink, breath caught.
“What are we?” he asks, voice raw. “Because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not even close. I don’t want this to just be some hookup that fades when we get awkward or bored. I want more.”
You don’t speak yet. You can’t.
But he keeps going.
“Can I… court you properly?” he asks, voice almost shaking. “Old school. Dumb, maybe. But like—real dates. Home-cooked dinners. Learning your favorite coffee order. Earning it.”
“Sunghoon…”
“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. You can still use me. I’ll still be here. But if there’s a part of you that wants more, too…”
You step forward.
And kiss him.
Soft, steady, meaningful.
His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close like he was holding back until now.
And when you finally part, forehead resting against his, you whisper:
“Then earn it, Park Sunghoon.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes squeezing shut in relief.
- Two best friends go on a budget trip to Japan, only to accidentally book a love hotel for their entire stay. What starts as laughter and harmless fun slowly turns into lingering touches, stolen glances, and undeniable tension—until one night changes everything, and they’re forced to confront feelings they’ve been hiding for far too long.
tags: explicit sexual content, consensual sex, multiple rounds, oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), filming with consent, mirror sex, semi-public setting, overstimulation, light possessiveness, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship, breast fixation, shower/jacuzzi sex
wc: 11,900
rie's note: this was from last year>< so expect errors ahead! enjoy the ride! like,reblogs, and FEEDBACKS 👉🏻🥹👈🏻are highly appreciated :3 added more scenes hence the lil different writing style heh
You were halfway through your iced americano when Park Sunghoon slid into the seat across from you with the kind of urgency only someone who forgot to buy concert tickets would have.
“I did it,” he said, slightly breathless. “I found the cheapest possible hotel in Tokyo for five nights. I’m talking dirt-cheap.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘cheapest’ you mean we’ll be sharing a closet with a raccoon family or—?”
“No, no. This place looks fine. Clean. Themed. Cute. I think the rooms are based on trains or something.”
You blinked at him. “Trains?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. “It’s called ‘Fantasy Express.’ Kind of a vibe, right?”
“…Doesn’t that sound like a porn parody of the Shinkansen?”
Sunghoon gave you a blank look. “You said budget. I delivered. Be grateful.”
You snorted and took a sip of your drink. “Right. This better not end with me cuddling you for warmth in a windowless shoebox.”
He grinned. “Is that a threat or a promise, bestie?”
You flipped him off, laughing. But deep down, you were buzzing with excitement — not just because of the trip, but because it had been years since you and Sunghoon got away together.
After college, everything changed. Jobs, time zones, relationships that fizzled out before they even began. But Sunghoon was constant. He was the one person who could make you laugh even when you were crying into your broken laptop at 2 a.m. He was the voice note at midnight, the “I made too much ramen, come over,” the comfort in chaos.
So when the two of you finally managed to book this long-overdue trip to Japan, it felt like pressing pause on real life. No deadlines. No drama. Just the two of you, trains, street food, and maybe — if the stars aligned — a little karaoke.
You’d been talking about it since your second year in college. A pinky promise made over shared takoyaki from a food stall on your campus lawn.
“One day, we’ll go. Just you and me. Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka. A no-plan plan.”
You remembered that promise because Sunghoon never broke his.
Which is why you didn’t question it when he said he’d handle the hotel. And flights. And a few “must-see” locations, because even though you called it a “no-plan plan,” you both knew you were the chaotic one.
The night before your flight, Sunghoon came over to help you pack. In reality, he just sat on your bed, eating your snacks and judging your underwear choices.
“Why do you need seven pairs for five days?” he asked, mouth full of chips.
“In case I fall into a river. Or sweat. Or get possessed and pee myself. I don’t know, leave me alone.”
He laughed and reached over to zip your suitcase, fingers brushing yours for a second too long.
Neither of you mentioned it.
The flight was smooth. You watched a rom-com, he watched anime. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He didn’t move.
When you landed in Tokyo, everything felt surreal — the bright signs, the clean air, the sense that something new was about to happen.
The train ride to the hotel was quiet. You scrolled through Instagram while Sunghoon triple-checked the hotel address on Google Maps.
“We’re almost there,” he said, pointing to a small tucked-away building near the corner of a quiet street.
It looked decent. Small. Cozy. A glowing pink sign above the entrance read:
“Welcome to FANTASY EXPRESS — All Aboard the Love Line!”
You stared at it. Then at him.
“Hoon.”
“Yeah?”
“…Did you just book us into a love hotel?”
Sunghoon blinked. Looked back up at the sign. Back at you. “…No?” he tried, voice cracking halfway through. You deadpanned. “This is literally vibrating with sex energy.”
“I thought it was themed!”
“It is. The theme is fucking.”
He dropped his suitcase. “I swear on everything holy, I didn’t know. I just thought it was quirky. It said ‘train carriage rooms’ and had cute colors!”
You stared at him, unblinking. “You booked us into a love hotel. For five nights.”
A silence.
And then, slowly, the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter — loud, ugly, bent-over laughter as passersby gave you weird looks.
Sunghoon wiped a tear from his eye. “Guess we’re really going on a ride.”
You shoved his shoulder, still laughing. “Idiot.”
The door slid open with a hiss, revealing the room Sunghoon had confidently reserved for five full nights.
You took one look inside and immediately stopped.
“…You’re joking.”
“Nope,” Sunghoon said in a flat voice, already sounding like he regretted every choice he’d ever made.
There were train handles hanging from the ceiling.
The walls had digital screens showing looped footage of Japanese countryside rolling past at high speed.
A faux train announcement played in the background every few minutes: “Next stop… pleasure.”
You turned slowly toward him. “Sunghoon.”
“Okay, wait—just hear me out.”
You stepped in and did a slow, horrified turn.
There was a chrome pole right in the middle of the room.
The bed looked like it was upholstered with actual train seats, complete with seat belts and tray tables. And worst of all, the mirrored ceiling had a blinking LED banner that read:
🚨 “ALL ABOARD — NONSTOP EXPRESS” 🚨
You gaped. “So its really is a love hotel.”
“No it’s not! …Okay maybe. Technically. But—look, I didn’t know! I thought it was just themed!”
“You thought this was a railway-themed budget capsule, and not a sex train hotel?!”
“I didn’t read that far down the listing, okay?! It was cheap and looked… clean! Plus the review said ‘lots of amenities!’”
“Sunghoon. There’s a vending machine for underwear's and condoms next to the door.”
He paused. Looked. “…Okay, I’ll give you that one. You sighed, dragging your suitcase in anyway. “We are going to get diseases just by existing here.”
Sunghoon followed behind sheepishly, dragging his bag. “You know, in a different light, this place is kind of hilarious.”
You turned to him and blinked. “We’re literally sleeping in a porn set.” “A very affordable porn set.”
You flopped dramatically onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling mirror.
He was right. It was funny. And the more you looked at the blinking lights, the mood lighting, and the suggestively placed towel basket beside the bed, the harder it was to stop laughing.
You both ended up bent over, wheezing from laughter as the fake train announcement repeated:
“Passengers, please hold on… for your own safety.”
Ten Minutes Later
“…Wait,” you muttered from the bathroom doorway. “Is that a jacuzzi?”
Sunghoon looked up from his phone. “A what?”
You pointed. “There’s a jacuzzi in here. And… no way. Is that a sauna?” He came over and peeked in. Sure enough, tucked behind the ridiculously clean glass partition was a legit two-person jacuzzi tub with sleek jets, LED lighting, and a discreet shelf of complimentary scented oils. And beside it? A cramped but actual mini sauna, already set to a cozy 45°C.
“Oh my god,” you whispered. “They really want people to… marinate before they—”
“Okay! I’m not letting this place win,” Sunghoon cut in. “We are taking full advantage. This shit is expensive in normal hotels.”
You looked at him in disbelief. “You want to use the sex jacuzzi?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a tub. The jets don’t know what’s going on. You want to spend the night pouting, or do you want a hot bath with free tea tree oil?”
You groaned. “I hate that you’re making sense.”
Twenty Minutes Later
You were in the tub first — submerged in warm water, hair tied up, sighing as the jets eased the travel ache out of your spine.
“I feel gross about how good this is,” you mumbled.
Sunghoon was sitting just outside the sauna, half-wrapped in a towel, drinking water. “Don’t get used to it. This is our peak. We’re about to suffer in a train-themed sex chamber for five nights.”
“You say that like it’s not your fault.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair.” You watched as steam curled off his shoulders, his skin flushed slightly pink from the sauna. He looked good. A little too good.
You quickly looked away and sank deeper into the water. Nope. Not thinking that.
You were best friends. The kind who shared hoodies and bitched about exes and had matching pajamas from a failed couples Halloween sale. You weren’t supposed to be noticing how broad his chest was, or how low his towel sat on his hips.
He caught you looking. You snapped your head the other way.
A pause. “You okay?” he asked, voice lower.
“Yup,” you replied, too fast. “Just tired.”
You heard him chuckle under his breath. “You’re a terrible liar.”
You splashed water at him. “Go back to your sauna.”
But the heat in your chest had nothing to do with steam.
You both climbed into the ridiculous velvet-upholstered bed and laid side by side, limbs awkwardly angled to avoid touching too much.
The train screen looped soft countryside visuals.
The LED sign above the mirror blinked softly:
“Don’t miss your stop…”
You stared at the ceiling. “Why does this feel like the foreplay part of a drama?”
Sunghoon’s voice was low. “Because everything here is designed for people to fuck.”
You both went quiet. Too quiet.
Then he added, a little too casually. “If you get cold tonight, just say something.”
You turned your head slightly. His profile glowed in the soft red light. “I won’t.”
“I know.” But neither of you moved. Not yet.
You woke up to the smell of grilled fish and miso soup.
Blinking groggily, you turned your head to find Sunghoon already sitting up in bed, hair messy, skin flushed from sleep, and a gleam of childlike wonder in his eyes.
“Room service,” he said simply, holding up a laminated card with neat checkboxes. “And it’s actually good. Like. Too good for this place.”
You sat up, blinking blearily at the silver-domed trays on the fold-out tray table. “Wait—this place has room service?”
“Apparently. I checked last night before sleeping. They serve breakfast to the room for ‘maximum comfort and pleasure.’” He did finger quotes around that last part. “Very suggestive. But also… delicious.”
He peeled the lid off one tray, and the smell immediately hit you: steaming rice, grilled salmon, soft tamagoyaki, pickled vegetables, and even a little matcha jelly cube for dessert.
Your stomach growled audibly.
“Oh my god,” you mumbled, crawling across the bed like a zombie. “I’m never leaving.”
He passed you chopsticks. “See? You talk a big game, but deep down, you’re just here for the perks.”
You dug in. “Mmf—if you booked this place on purpose for this breakfast alone, I forgive you.”
“I’ll take that as my official pardon,” he said, chewing on a piece of miso-glazed eggplant.
For a moment, the room was quiet — just soft clinks of chopsticks, muffled chewing, and the fake train sounds looping in the background.
And then, as always, came the banter.
“So,” you said, mid-bite, “you gonna keep walking around in that towel all morning or…?”
Sunghoon glanced down at himself — still shirtless, his towel hanging loose around his hips as if he were starring in a shampoo commercial. He smirked. “Jealous?”
You scoffed. “Of what? Your man boobs?”
“First of all,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth, “these are pecs. Try not to cry when you see me in real lighting.”
“I’ve seen you in fluorescent kitchen lights eating ramen at 2 a.m. I’ve survived worse.”
“I’ve also seen you drunk with a sheet mask on and mismatched socks, so don’t act superior.”
“Those socks were a fashion statement.”
He snorted. “A cry for help.”
After breakfast and a little too much matcha jelly, the two of you finally started getting dressed.
Or trying to, anyway.
You were standing at the small mirror near the door, brushing your teeth and fussing with your hair when you heard Sunghoon behind you, grunting in frustration.
“What’s your problem?” you asked, spitting out toothpaste.
“Where the hell is the other sock I packed?”
You glanced over and nearly choked — he was half-dressed, hair still wet from the shower, towel hanging on the rack, shirt hanging off one shoulder like a K-drama lead in distress.
You raised a brow. “Check your suitcase. Or maybe the laundry bag?”
He groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed. “Why does this always happen to me?”
“Because your packing skills are trash.”
“You packed seven pairs of underwear for five nights!”
“Prepared. Not chaotic.”
“Psychotic.”
You tossed a sock at his face. “Shut up and wear this.”
He caught it, looked at the pattern — pastel pink with tiny peaches on them — and grinned.
“Wait… these are your socks.”
“They’re clean. Be grateful.”
He gave you a playful look. “If my feet feel too soft and feminine later, it’s your fault.”
You rolled your eyes. “You could use a little softness.” There was a beat of quiet as you both finished dressing.
And then, almost too casually, Sunghoon asked, “You good with the plan today? Shibuya, food, maybe teamLab Planets?”
You smiled. “Hell yeah. Let’s go get blinded by LED art and overpay for strawberry mochi.”
You grabbed your tote bag, he slung his camera over his shoulder, and together you stepped out into the Tokyo sunlight — blinking against the sudden warmth, the city buzzing with life all around you.
The love hotel’s sliding door closed behind you with a soft mechanical hiss.
“God, being outside feels illegal after that room,” you muttered, stretching.
Sunghoon yawned beside you. “We need to get out as much as possible. If we spend too long in there…”
“…we’ll end up using that pole, and not ironically.”
You said it jokingly, but the second it left your lips, you realized you were both thinking it.
You looked at him. He looked at you.
You both looked away.
Sunghoon cleared his throat and started walking. “Right. Food. Vibes. Let’s pretend we’re not staying in horny train hell.”
You followed, heart doing weird things.
By 10:30 a.m., you were already on your second iced drink and your fifth photo taken by Sunghoon.
"This one’s blurry,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he flipped through the camera roll.
“You moved,” he replied, flicking to the next one.
“I was mid-chew.”
“Exactly. Candid.”
“You got my molar in HD.”
He laughed, slinging the camera back over his shoulder. “You’re welcome. That’s raw content.”
You stuck your tongue out at him and tugged him toward the next street corner, where a little taiyaki cart was steaming golden fish-shaped cakes onto paper trays.
He bought one with custard and one with sweet potato, handing you the first without asking — he always remembered your favorite.
The day passed in a colorful, unfiltered blur.
From Asakusa’s temple streets to Ueno Park’s shaded paths, you strolled through the buzzing city under soft summer clouds, sharing bites of grilled yakitori, stopping at claw machines, and laughing until your stomach hurt every time Sunghoon got scammed by a vending machine.
“Bro,” he groaned as his Pocari Sweat got stuck halfway. “I just wanted electrolytes.”
“That’s what you get for bullying me about my socks.”
“They are ridiculous.”
“And now they’re your lucky socks, so shut up and suffer.”
He grinned, defeated, as you shook the machine for him until the drink finally dropped.
He brought the good camera — the one he only took out during special trips or when he really wanted to remember something.
At first, it was just the usual:
Colorful alleyways, Vintage signs, Cats in front of bookstores and Neon billboards starting to glow as dusk rolled in
But then the lens kept shifting toward you.
He’d tilt the viewfinder just slightly to the left whenever you were sipping your drink, or smiling up at a paper lantern, or holding up a peace sign in front of a giant tanuki statue.
He didn’t make a big deal out of it.
He never did.
Just snapped quietly, a small smile on his face, pretending to be adjusting settings every time you caught him in the act.
“Stop taking pictures of me looking ugly,” you said as you leaned against a vending machine at golden hour.
“You never look ugly,” he replied without thinking.
You blinked. He clicked his shutter.
You smacked his arm. “Flattery gets you nowhere, Park.”
“I was talking about the vending machine, actually.”
“Oh, screw you—”
By late afternoon, the two of you were barefoot, wading through glowing water and walking across mirrored floors.
The floating flowers, the endless lights, the reflection of stars above and below you — it all felt surreal.
Sunghoon was quiet most of the time, too busy adjusting focus, waiting for the exact second a projection shifted, or the water stilled, or your silhouette lined up against the light.
“Stay right there,” he murmured, crouching low.
You stood still, bathed in blue and purple.
A single glowing lily floated past your ankles.
Click.
When he finally looked up from the lens, his expression was soft, like he’d forgotten where you were — like the whole room was quiet just for a second.
You waved your arms. “Earth to perv?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, standing up and brushing dust off his knees. “Just… this lighting’s good.”
“Mm-hmm. You’re not slick.”
Dinner was ramen from a tiny shop hidden in an alley where no one spoke English and the broth was so rich it felt illegal.
You walked off the food through quiet backstreets, with neon signs humming above your heads and laundry flapping on upper balconies.
Sunghoon carried your bag without saying anything.
You bought him an ice cream without asking.
It was so easy. The kind of night you wanted to fold up and keep in your pocket forever.
At one point, you stopped to take a photo of your own — just a snapshot of him in the warm city light, licking ice cream and grinning.
“Got you,” you said, triumphant.
He raised a brow. “You finally captured my beauty?”
“No. I finally got proof you like vanilla.”
“You said you wouldn’t judge.”
“Too late.”
The fake train ambiance greeted you again as you entered the room — soft station chimes, muffled track sounds looping on the hidden speakers. You kicked off your shoes with a groan and threw your bag down like it betrayed you.
Sunghoon collapsed face-first on the bed. “We’ve walked 23,000 steps. I checked.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“My knees are 47 years old now.”
You laughed as you peeled off your socks. “Okay, Grandpa. Want me to book us an onsen for tomorrow?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowing at the frosted-glass door in the corner.
“…wait. We still haven’t used the sauna together.”
You followed his gaze.
The in-room sauna and jacuzzi setup was tucked into the corner like an afterthought — sleek, surprisingly clean, and wildly over-the-top for the price. You hadn’t dared touch it yet.
You raised a brow. “You serious?”
He was already standing.
“I’m not walking like a gremlin tomorrow. Sauna it is.”
The small wooden sauna heated up quickly — enough for the two of you to sit side by side, towels wrapped around your waists, foreheads already glistening.
It smelled like cedar and something citrusy.
“I feel like we’re in a rich person’s armpit,” you muttered.
Sunghoon cracked up, head tilted back, eyes closed. “I feel like we’re about to get a motivational TED Talk from a man named Daisuke about financial freedom.”
You snorted. “We are literally boiling ourselves in a love hotel sauna. What freedom?”
There was a pause.
Then—
“This is nice though,” he admitted. “Like… surprisingly.”
You hummed, wiping sweat from your brow. “We deserve it. That yakitori hunt was a whole workout.”
A beat passed.
“Also, you were sweating this much at the gacha machine, so I feel like this is just your brand.”
“Don’t come for my capsule toys. They bring me joy.”
“Your suitcase is full of tiny plastic sushi. Let that sink in.”
After the sauna, you both flopped into the jacuzzi — towels still on, bubbles swirling lazily, the overhead lighting dimmed to a soft purple glow.
You leaned back against the edge and sighed so dramatically that Sunghoon mimicked it seconds later.
“Haaaaa~”
“Haaaaa.”
“…Why do you sound like a dying anime girl?”
“Why do you sound like a wounded elk?”
You flicked a handful of bubbles at him, and he retaliated by splashing water into your face.
By the time you both settled down, your cheeks hurt from laughing.
He nudged your foot underwater. “Hey. For real.”
You looked over.
“This whole day was perfect. Thanks for not letting me book some sad capsule hotel instead.”
You smiled softly. “Thanks for accidentally giving us the weirdest five days of our lives.”
A pause.
You both sank a little deeper into the water, the bubbles rising quietly between you.
Nothing else needed to be said.
Not yet.
After the sauna and jacuzzi, everything felt heavier — your limbs loose, your muscles relaxed, your brain pleasantly fuzzy in the best way.
Sunghoon handed you your toothbrush like always. Same side of the sink. Same rhythm. You brushed shoulder to shoulder, bumping elbows whenever one of you leaned over to spit.
You wore your oversized shirt — the one with faded cartoon prints and sleeves too long for your arms.
He wore a black tank top and gray sweats, his hair still damp and curling a bit at the nape.
It looked domestic.
Dangerously so.
You didn’t comment on it.
The sheets were still warm when you both flopped down again — you on your side of the bed, Sunghoon sprawled diagonally, legs halfway off the edge like a kid after a sugar crash.
"What do we watch?” you mumbled, tugging the blanket over your legs.
“I found a channel earlier that only plays weird food documentaries,” he said. “One of them was about a guy in Osaka who makes noodles with his feet.”
You blinked.
“That sounds unappetizing.”
“And yet I couldn’t look away.”
He flipped on the TV, and soon enough, soft narration in Japanese filled the room. Onscreen, a slow montage showed close-ups of dough, broth, and a man lovingly caressing noodles like they were his own children.
You both stared.
Then:
“His foot game’s strong,” Sunghoon muttered.
You snorted, smacking his arm. “Stop.”
A second later, he tilted the screen toward you and snapped a photo of your mid-laugh face.
“Delete it,” you said.
“Nope.”
“Sunghoon—”
“That’s a top-tier smile. Archive-worthy.”
You reached for the camera.
He held it just out of reach, laughing as you tried to climb over him, only to lose your balance and flop onto his side of the bed.
He oofed softly as your elbow landed against his stomach.
And then…
You didn’t move.
Neither did he.
You were both breathing, barely, quiet again except for the soft murmur of the food show and the faint rumble of train sounds from the wall speaker — still looping, still somehow comforting.
Your head rested near his shoulder. His arm lay beside you, palm up.
You didn’t think about how easy it would be to lace your fingers through it.
Because that wasn’t the point.
Not tonight.
Eventually, you mumbled, “I’ll fall asleep right here.”
“Good.”
“Then you’ll complain that I drool.”
“I always do. Doesn’t stop you.”
“…True.”
A beat passed.
Then Sunghoon shifted slightly, pulled the blanket over you too, and said, soft as a sigh:
“Night, dummy.”
You smiled into the pillow.
“Night, Hoon.”
You both woke up later than planned.
To no one’s surprise, the blackout curtains plus the post-sauna coma plus the gentle train track sounds had knocked you both out cold.
When you opened your eyes, Sunghoon was already awake beside you, scrolling on his phone with bedhead and one eye squinting at the light.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he greeted without looking.
You groaned and threw the blanket over your face. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning?”
“I already ordered breakfast. It’ll be here in ten.”
That made you peek out
“Pretty good options. Surprisingly tasty too.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Did you ate already?”
“I may have had a mini croissant. For science.”
The tray rolled in like a hotel drama — miso soup, boiled eggs, tamagoyaki, rice, fruit, juice, and coffee, all neatly arranged in little porcelain dishes.
“This is way too fancy for a place with a pole in the corner,” you whispered.
Sunghoon burst out laughing. “We should eat on the pole.”
“Try it. Break your back.”
You sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully pouring soy sauce into the tiny saucer while Sunghoon buttered his toast like an old man at a countryside inn.
It was… cozy. Stupidly cozy.
He took a photo of the spread — and then one of you holding a strawberry between your lips.
“You’re so annoying,” you said.
“Smile,” he replied.
And you did.
You both dressed quickly — jeans and sneakers, matching windbreakers by accident (he insisted you copied him), camera packed again.
The plan today was Shimokitazawa, the artsy thrift-store-filled neighborhood that smelled like espresso, vinyl records, and dreams of quitting your job.
You wandered between secondhand shops and cafés, trying on sunglasses, picking up ugly mugs, posing in front of graffiti.
Sunghoon’s camera was out the entire time — and even though he pretended he was just testing settings, you saw how he always pointed it at you when you weren’t looking.
You caught him once.
He didn’t deny it.
“I like how you look when you’re not trying.”
You blinked.
He looked away, adjusting the lens. “Lighting’s better.”
“…Right.”
It was small.
You reached for a cold canned drink at the exact same moment.
Your fingers brushed his. Barely. Briefly.
But it lingered — just a half-second too long.
You felt it. So did he.
Neither of you said a thing.
You were sitting on a bench outside a vintage bookstore, sipping soda while he reviewed the photos on his camera.
“What are you deleting?”
“Blurry ones.”
“Let me see.”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because some are mine.”
“…Some?”
He paused.
Then smiled a little — not in a teasing way this time.
“Some are just for me.”
You didn’t ask what that meant.
You just let it sit there between you.
Warm. Quiet. Weightless.
But not really.
You returned to the hotel a little earlier than Day 1, shoes dusty, legs tired, hands full of little finds — enamel pins, a thrifted shirt, a random keychain he insisted matched your vibe.
In the jacuzzi again. This time quieter. You both leaned back and let the water do the talking.
Later, you brushed your teeth side by side again, yawning into your sleeves, shoulders bumping gently.
You climbed into bed first. This time, when he laid beside you, you noticed how close your hands were on the blanket.
Not touching.
Just… close enough. You didn’t pull away.
Neither did he. It started small.
Just a joke, really. After another long day out — this time at the Shibuya Sky deck and walking through Harajuku — you’d peeled off your jacket and complained about how sweaty you were.
“You’re melting,” Sunghoon commented, flopping dramatically onto the bed while you stood near the mirror, tying your hair up.
“You’d melt too if you had boobs trapping heat.”
He snorted. “Do you want me to confirm that or—” You threw a pillow at him.
“Okay, but real talk,” Sunghoon said as the door hissed shut behind him. “This sauna is saving my life. I’m starting a petition to install one back home.”
You chuckled, stepping inside after him in your towel, feeling the warm steam immediately cling to your skin.
Tonight felt hotter somehow — and not just because of the temperature.
Maybe it was how Sunghoon looked right now. Hair swept back slightly damp, skin already glowing, the soft edge of his collarbone visible. His towel was secure but low, and he sat with one arm resting over the wooden bench behind you, casual, almost… cocky.
“So,” he started, turning slightly toward you. “You gonna keep avoiding the fact that you made a noise when you sat down yesterday?”
“I did not.”
"You groaned like you were starring in a drama.”
You blinked at him. “Are you being flirty right now?”
He smirked. “Would it work?”
You gave him a look.
He laughed, leaning his head back against the wall. “Relax. I flirt with everyone.”
“…No, you don’t.”
He looked at you again, slower this time.
You felt it — that shift.
The quiet drawl in his tone when he said, “Right. I don’t.”
Ten minutes in, the steam got thicker.
You leaned forward to reach for your water bottle, not realizing your towel had come a little… loose.
You tugged it quickly and pressed it tighter to your chest, but the damage was done.
Sunghoon’s eyes had flicked down.
And then—back up.
He cleared his throat and smirked. “…Nice catch.”
You threw him a glare, cheeks hot, but not from the heat.
“Don’t be gross.”
“I’m not being gross,” he said, tilting his head lazily. “I’m just observant. It’s part of my charm.”
“Your charm is a menace.”
“Yeah?” he said, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle. “Still keeping me around, though.”
Later, while drying off, you were both laughing over a dumb quiz show playing on the love hotel TV, towels replaced with your usual comfy clothes. But the air still hadn’t gone back to normal.
You sat on the bed, brushing your hair.
He sat behind you, watching something on his phone, absently letting his fingers toy with the end of your shirt hem.
You didn’t realize he was doing it until he stilled.
Then—
“You always wear this one,” he said softly. “It’s got a little hole in the back.”
You turned to look at him.
“You’re really paying attention, huh?”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“I always do.”
There was no laugh this time. No grin. Just the warm glow from the room lamp and the way his eyes dropped for a second — from your face, to your lips, to your collarbone — before he looked back up.
You swallowed.
He looked way too close all of a sudden.
And yet, not close enough.
You stood up.
Quickly. Casually.
“I’m brushing my teeth.”
“Okay,” he said behind you, quiet… amused. “Run away, then.”The night settled in earlier than usual — maybe because you both agreed your legs needed a break, maybe because the city lights felt better admired from the bed with snacks and cold drinks.
You kicked your feet up, pulling the blanket over your lap while Sunghoon scrolled through the hotel TV’s library.
"We’re not watching something sad,” you warned.
“Why not?”
“Because every time we do, you start doing that emotional whisper voice after.”
He raised a brow, amused. “‘If I die, tell my cat I loved her’ isn’t emotional. It’s factual.”
You snorted and popped a grape into your mouth.
He settled on a coming-of-age romance film — something soft, slow, with golden lighting and friends-to-lovers tension that hit a little too close.
You didn’t comment.
Thirty minutes in, the movie faded into the background. You were half-focused, shoulder-to-shoulder with Sunghoon beneath the same blanket, a bowl of chips between you.
He reached over to grab one, and his fingers brushed yours again.
This time, you didn’t move away.
Neither did he.
You felt him glance at you — not a quick flick, but a lingering stare.
“…What?” you asked, not looking at him.
"Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m admiring.”
Your heart thudded once.
“…What?”
He smiled slowly, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I said nothing.”
Somewhere between the third snack break and the movie credits, Sunghoon nudged your leg.
“Truth or dare?”
You looked at him sideways. “What are we, twelve?”
“Pick.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Truth.”
He leaned back against the headboard, one arm behind his head.
“Have you ever thought about kissing me?”
Your breath caught
He didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t smirk.
He just watched you — calm, unreadable.
You stared at him, pulse ticking louder.
“…Is that a real question?”
His voice dropped lower. “You chose ‘truth.’”
The silence stretched. You felt it thick in your throat, in the space between your knees touching beneath the blanket.
Then, softly—
“Once or twice,” you admitted.
His lips curved, slow and smug.
You shoved his shoulder, embarrassed. “Okay, your turn.”
“Dare,” he said immediately.
You blinked. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to lie.”
You stared at him.
“…Fine. I dare you to—”
“Kiss me.”
Your breath stalled.
“What?”
“I dare you to kiss me.”
He said it casually, but you saw the way his hand gripped the blanket — the slight twitch in his jaw, the sharp inhale he tried to hide.
You licked your lips slowly.
“Sunghoon—”
"It’s just a game, right?” he said, voice velvet-soft.
You looked at him.
At his eyes. His mouth. His flushed cheeks and the way he was so close but not making a move.
Like he was giving you control.
And that scared you more than anything.
Because suddenly, the game didn’t feel like a game anymore.
You leaned in.
Just a little.
Just enough that he felt your breath.
But before your lips touched, you pulled back and whispered, “Next round.”
He exhaled sharply, a chuckle slipping out — part relief, part frustration.
“You’re evil.”
You smiled.
“Just playing the game.”
“I’m sleepy,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
The tension from the game still clung to your skin, warm and heavy. Your heart was doing too much—pounding like you just ran up a hill instead of almost-kissing your best friend.
You tugged the blanket up and turned on your side, facing away from him.
Or so you thought.
Because as you lay back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and breath evening out, your gaze landed somewhere else.
Above you.
The mirror on the ceiling.
You blinked.
It was such a stupid, love-hotel thing to have, and you hadn’t even paid attention to it since the first day. But now?
Now you saw everything.
You.
Sunghoon.
Lying side by side, under the same blanket, bodies close enough to share heat.
His head tilted toward you slightly, lips parted like he was going to say something—but didn’t.
Your breath caught.
The image in the mirror wasn’t what friends looked like.
It wasn’t casual. It was intimate.
Too much.
Not enough.
You shifted, just barely.
And in the reflection, you watched Sunghoon do the same.
His hand moved above the blanket.
Closer.
Not touching you—but hovering near your waist.
You felt his knuckles brush the hem of your shirt, barely there.
Goosebumps rose instantly.
Your eyes flicked up again—to the mirror.
He was watching it too.
Watching you.
“…Sunghoon,” you said, barely audible.
He didn’t move his hand. Didn’t blink.
“I know,” he said softly, like he already knew what was in your chest. “You’re sleepy.”
But he still didn’t pull away.
Instead, he let his fingers rest lightly against your side—just enough pressure to make you feel it.
His voice dropped, rougher now.
“But if you weren’t…”
Your stomach twisted.
“If I wasn’t?” you asked.
He met your eyes in the mirror.
“I’d kiss you,” he murmured. “And this time, you wouldn’t stop me.”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
The air between you was thick. You felt the heat from his body, the blanket suddenly too warm. His words echoed, burning a hole into your chest.
Still, you didn’t move.
Not away.
Not toward him.
Just… there. Caught.
Heart racing.
Eyes locked in the reflection.
And then—
He pulled his hand away slowly.
A soft breath left your lips.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered.
You closed your eyes.
But you didn’t sleep for a long, long time.
Not with his voice still in your ear.
Not with his hand still ghosting your skin.
And not with that mirror burning above you, showing you something you couldn’t unsee.
“C’mon,” Sunghoon said, tugging your wrist gently as you both stepped out of the taxi and into the Tokyo night. “We’re not leaving Japan without at least one club night. Live a little.”
You gave him a look. “You’re the one who googled ‘clubs that don’t have a cover fee’ and filtered by ‘low noise.’”
“Exactly,” he grinned. “I’m a responsible party animal.”
You snorted, but let him guide you in.
The club was tucked away under a neon sign and a set of stairs, with a cozy, crowded feel—dark corners, glowing drinks, and music that thudded deep in your chest.
He ordered you both something sweet and sparkling. The kind of drink that made your lips sticky and your smile looser.
It was supposed to be harmless.
Just a night out.
You wore a black dress—Sunghoon’s pick, actually, from earlier that day.
“I’m not letting you pack a bunch of oversized hoodies for a night out,” he said back in the hotel. “Show some skin. It’s Japan. Everyone’s hot.”
So you did.
And now?
Now you were paying for it.
Two drinks in, you danced near the edge of the floor, swaying with the beat, laughing with Sunghoon beside you. His hand hovered low on your back—not touching, but close enough to be there if you stumbled.
Until he stepped away for a second to use the bathroom.
And they showed up.
Two guys—tall, confident, clearly a little tipsy.
“Hey, you alone?” one of them asked, smiling too much, eyes dipping low.
You smiled politely, shaking your head. “I’m with someone.”
“Oh?” The second guy grinned. “Boyfriend?”
Before you could answer, you felt it—a hand on your waist. Warm. Familiar.
Sunghoon.
“No,” he said smoothly, his voice sharp behind you. “She’s with me.”
You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone.
Sunghoon wasn’t the jealous type. Or at least, he’d never acted like it before. Not when guys checked you out. Not when they flirted harmlessly.
But tonight?
He wasn’t joking.
One look at his face and you knew.
The guys backed off, muttering something in Japanese you didn’t catch. But you didn’t care. Not when Sunghoon’s fingers stayed on your hip even after they were gone.
You turned to him.
“…You okay?”
He stared at you for a second.
Then he laughed—short, breathless.
“You have any idea how you look tonight?”
You blinked. “Sunghoon—”
“No,” he said, pulling you gently toward a quieter corner of the club. “I let you out in that dress and thought, yeah, sure, I’ll be normal about it. But then I see guys eyeing you like they have a shot and suddenly I’m—”
He cut himself off.
You stared.
“Suddenly you’re what?”
He looked at you. Really looked.
And for the first time tonight, there was no filter.
“I’m not normal about you,” he said simply. “Haven’t been for a long time.”
Your heart stuttered.
The music faded into nothing.
“…Sunghoon.”
“I know,” he said, eyes flicking to your lips. “We’re best friends. This whole trip’s been fun. Flirty. Safe. But tonight?”
He leaned in.
“Tonight, I want to make it clear.”
Your back hit the wall, gently.
Not rough.
Not rushed.
Just enough to make your breath hitch.
“You’re with me,” he whispered, lips barely brushing your jaw.
And you didn’t move.
Not away.
Not at all.
The cab ride back to the hotel was dead silent.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because everything had already been said — in the way Sunghoon looked at you when those guys tried flirting at the club, in the way his hand gripped your waist like it belonged there.
And in the way he whispered, low and rough:
“You’re with me.”
The words looped in your head the whole ride. And when you stepped into your room — the one with the ridiculous train-themed decor, mood lighting, and giant mirror above the bed — it was over.
The second the door clicked shut—
He kissed you.
Not like a friend.
Not like someone testing the waters.
Like he knew what you tasted like.
Like he needed it.
His hands were everywhere — cupping your face, sliding down your waist, pressing into your lower back until your bodies were flush. You were barely able to keep up with his mouth — all tongue, teeth, urgency.
You gasped when his lips left yours to nip your jaw.
“Sunghoon—”
“I told you,” he growled, voice wrecked. “I’m not waiting anymore.”
He walked you backward toward the bed, kissing you between every step.
You fell onto the mattress, breathless, heart racing. The mirror above showed your reflection — the two of you tangled in shadows and heat, your thighs parting instinctively as Sunghoon leaned over you.
“You don’t know,” he whispered, nose brushing yours, “how many nights I’ve watched you sleep in this bed.”
His hand slid under your dress, fingertips grazing your thighs.
“Thinking about this.”
You gasped when he squeezed your leg, his eyes never leaving yours.
“You’re soaked through,” he murmured.
“I’ve been—thinking about it too,” you admitted, cheeks warm.
That was all he needed.
Sunghoon yanked off his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the trail of muscle down his abs — you stared shamelessly.
He noticed.
“Like what you see?”
You nodded.
“Use your words, baby.”
“I like it,” you whispered, eyes blown wide. “I want all of you.”
He groaned. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”
Then he was kissing down your neck, tugging your dress off slowly, his mouth dragging over every new inch of skin.
“No bra?” he murmured against your chest.
“You told me to wear something easy to take off,” you whispered.
His eyes burned.
“I was joking,” he growled, “but fuck, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”
His tongue circled your nipple before sucking hard, making your hips buck.
“Sunghoon—”
“Be patient,” he said, sliding your panties off. “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first.”
Then he was kneeling at the edge of the bed, pulling your legs over his shoulders, and diving in.
You cried out.
He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning like he’d just tasted heaven.
Then again. Slower.
His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you open as he licked you deep — tongue teasing your folds, swirling around your clit, then flattening with just enough pressure to make your legs shake.
You tangled your fingers in his hair. “Sunghoon, please—please—”
He paused, pulled back just enough to speak.
“Say it again.”
You moaned. “Please, Sunghoon—make me cum—please—”
“Good girl.”
He dove back in, and you were gone.
Your orgasm ripped through you, thighs clenching around his head as you came with a broken moan of his name.
He didn’t stop — he kept licking, slow and lazy now, lapping up everything you gave him until you were panting, trembling.
He crawled back up your body and kissed you — letting you taste yourself on his lips.
Then you felt him.
Hard. Heavy. Pressing against your thigh.
You reached down, wrapping your hand around him, and his head dropped to your shoulder with a groan.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “If you touch me like that, I’m gonna lose it.”
You smirked, kissing his jaw. “Then lose it.”
He laughed — low and rough — then pulled back to line himself up.
You were still soaked. Still twitching from your first orgasm.
He met your eyes, voice hoarse.
“Tell me you want this.”
“I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”
He slid in with one deep thrust.
His hips rolled into you, slow and deep.
One thrust — thick, stretching, deliberate.
You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders as he filled you to the hilt.
“Fuck, Sunghoon—”
“I know,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “You’re perfect like this.”
He stilled inside you, chest heaving. You could feel how hard he was — how much restraint he was using just to not lose control.
Then he pulled back.
And pushed in again.
Deeper.
Your breath hitched.
Above you, the mirror reflected everything — the way your body arched into him, how your mouth parted when he bottomed out, the tension in his jaw as he watched you take him like you were made for it.
You whimpered.
“Look up,” he said softly.
You did.
And your entire body shivered.
The sight was unreal.
His body between your legs.
The way your back curved.
The way your nails pressed into his skin.
Sunghoon leaned in close, lips dragging across your jaw.
“Now imagine if you could see this again.”
You blinked, dazed. “What?”
He reached for his phone.
Tossed a look toward the dresser, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
“I brought the tripod.”
Your stomach flipped.
“You’re joking—”
“Nope.” He was already sliding the legs out, adjusting the angle toward the bed. “Consent. One hundred percent. Just for us. Just for tonight. I want to remember everything.”
Your thighs instinctively squeezed around his waist.
He placed the phone on the stand, hit record, and returned to you.
Settled between your legs again.
Caged you in with his arms.
Kissed you like it would never be enough.
“This okay?” he whispered against your lips.
You nodded, eyes wide, chest rising.
“Say it, baby.”
You swallowed. “Yes. I want it. I want you.”
He groaned — guttural, raw.
Then he started moving.
Long, slow strokes at first.
His hips grinding into yours, dragging over every sensitive spot with maddening precision.
His hand slid under your lower back, lifting your hips slightly — angling you better, deeper — until you were gasping his name.
“God—Hoon—”
“You hear that?” he rasped, breathless. “That sound you make when I hit here—”
Thrust.
You cried out.
“—that’s going to ruin me.”
His thumb brushed your clit in tight circles while he fucked you, rhythm getting messier — your thighs slick, sheets twisted, the air thick with skin and heat and moans.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “Look at how fucking pretty you are when I’m inside you.”
You forced yourself to glance up at the mirror again—
And it was filthy.
Your eyes glassy.
Your body bouncing gently with every stroke.
Sunghoon — hair messy, jaw clenched, sweat slicking his chest — completely lost in you.
His thrusts got faster.
Your fingers clawed at his back.
You were getting close again. Too close.
“Sunghoon—Hoon—I’m—”
“Let go,” he growled. “I want to see it. Want to see you cum all over me.”
His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you in place as he slammed into you, dragging your orgasm out until you were moaning shamelessly, your body shaking under him.
You came hard.
Eyes rolling.
Toes curling.
He groaned loudly, head dropping to your shoulder.
Then he pulled out suddenly — tugged his cock in his fist once, twice—
“Where?” he panted.
“Stomach,” you gasped. “Please—”
And he spilled with a sharp grunt, hot ropes across your skin, your belly, his hips still twitching from the force.
The room was silent except for your panting.
You both stared at the mirror.
Then each other.
Sunghoon let out a soft, broken laugh.
“...We’re fucked.”
The room was still warm.
The soft buzz of fake train sounds from the speaker had long since faded into the background, replaced by only your uneven breathing and the low whirr of the air conditioner above the bed.
Your body was still tingling.
Muscles relaxed, core aching in the best way, thighs sticky with the aftermath of everything you just shared.
Sunghoon was lying beside you — one arm tucked under his head, the other draped lazily across your bare stomach. His fingers traced little, absent-minded shapes there, gliding through the mess he’d left on your skin like he couldn’t bear not to touch you.
He looked wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes soft. Lips red from kissing too hard.
But the way he was looking at you now?
Completely different.
Like the teasing and jokes were stripped away.
Like he was finally seeing you.
And maybe for the first time—you were really letting him.
“You okay?” he murmured.
His voice was soft, a little hoarse.
You turned your head slowly, looking at him. “Yeah. More than okay.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Good.”
Then, quieter, “Because that... wasn’t just for fun.”
Your heart stuttered.
“I mean—” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking up at the ceiling. “I know we’ve been friends forever. I know this trip was supposed to be, like, low-budget ramen and chaotic sightseeing and those vending machines you’re obsessed with, and I definitely didn’t mean to—book a fucking love hotel—but—”
You cut him off with a quiet laugh, rolling over to face him. “Hoon.”
He looked at you, eyes wide.
Your fingers reached up, brushing his hair from his forehead.
“I know it wasn’t just for fun.”
You paused.
“...Did you really mean everything you said tonight? At the club? Back here?”
His gaze didn’t flinch.
“Every word.”
Your breath caught.
“You’ve... thought about this?” you asked, almost shy. “Us?”
He nodded slowly, like he was afraid he’d scare you off. “For longer than I should have.”
You swallowed, heart thudding.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He smiled, soft and bittersweet. “Because I didn’t think I had a chance. You’re...you. You flirt with ramen vending machines.”
You laughed, burying your face in the pillow. “I do not.”
“You do,” he teased. “You called that one in Shibuya a good boy.”
You giggled.
Then his fingers stilled on your stomach.
“But the second I saw that guy at the club looking at you like you weren’t the most precious thing in the room... I snapped. I couldn’t keep pretending.”
You looked up at him. “And now?”
He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours.
“Now I want to be the only one who gets to touch you.”
Your breath caught.
“I want to take you on real dates. Hold your hand in public. Make you breakfast. Wake up beside you without wondering if I crossed a line the night before.”
Your chest ached — in the best way.
You wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling him closer.
“Then let’s do that.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“Yeah?” You nodded. “You idiot. I’ve wanted this too.”
He smiled — slow and real, the kind that reached his eyes.
And then? He kissed you again.
Gentle this time. Lingering. No rush.
Just the start of something real.
When you finally broke apart, curled in the sheets, your limbs tangled—
Sunghoon rested his cheek on your chest, humming softly.
“We’re kind of gross,” he mumbled sleepily.
You blinked. “What?”
He pointed up lazily.
You looked. And laughed. The mirror.
Still foggy. Still showing your bodies — flushed and messy and completely tangled up in each other.
“Let’s clean up,” you whispered.
Sunghoon groaned dramatically. “Can’t move. Dead. Died from your pussy.”
You smacked his arm with a pillow. “Romantic.”
He grinned.
Then he sat up—still shirtless, still glowing—and stretched.
As you slipped off the bed to grab your robe, something caught your eye.
That little panel near the bathroom. The one that looked just a little too clean. Too new.
You padded over, curiosity tugging.
Pushed it open— And found the train.
“Sunghoon…”
Your voice was breathless, laced with awe and disbelief as you stared into the hidden room tucked behind the bathroom mirror.
He came up behind you, still shirtless, eyes scanning the strange, atmospheric glow pouring out of the secret space.
“…What the hell?” he murmured, stepping in beside you. The small room looked exactly like the interior of a luxury train car.
Gold-trimmed velvet seats lined both sides.
The projected windows showed nighttime scenery rushing past, as if the whole place were actually moving.
And above it all? Mirrors. Full-length. Perfect angles.
“Did you book this on purpose?” you whispered.
Sunghoon laughed quietly, slipping his arm around your waist. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
You turned to look at him, still flushed, still warm and full from earlier.
He stared back at you—his gaze darker now, hungrier.
“You know,” he said, voice low, “we can’t just find a secret room like this and not do something stupid.”
You shivered.
“Define stupid.” His lips ghosted your neck.
“Take off your robe,” he murmured.
You blinked. “Here?”
“Here,” he said, nodding toward one of the seats. “There.”
Then he tilted your chin toward the mirror above.
“So you can watch.” Your stomach flipped.
He pulled you inside gently, guiding you toward the plush velvet seat like it was a throne.
“Sit,” he said, voice deeper now. “Right here. Legs open.”
You did. Robe sliding down your arms, bare underneath.
The second you sat, the coolness of the velvet against your thighs made you gasp.
Sunghoon dropped to his knees between your legs, spreading them wider, mouth just hovering over your center.
He looked up at you once—dark eyes, flushed cheeks, messy hair. Yours.
“I didn’t get enough of you earlier,” he murmured. “Wanna taste you right. Wanna take my time.”
You whimpered.
Then his tongue was on you. Sunghoon devoured you.
Tongue slow and firm, licking up every drop, nose pressed into your folds, mouth working you open until your head fell back and your hips jerked against his mouth.
You glanced up, dazed—and moaned when you caught the mirror reflection.
Everything. Your legs trembling. Your hands gripping the seat. His messy hair buried between your thighs.
He glanced up mid-lick, locking eyes with you through the mirror.
“Keep looking,” he said, mouth shiny. “I want you to see what you do to me.”
He sucked your clit into his mouth then—hard. You gasped, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
“Oh my god—Sunghoon—!”
“You gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered, licking slow circles again. “Right here, in this fucked-up train fantasy room?”
You moaned—loud, desperate.
“Say it.”
“Yes—please—yes, I’m gonna—fuck—”
He flicked his tongue in a perfect rhythm, and when his fingers slid inside you—two, slow, deep—you shattered.
You came on his tongue, thighs shaking around his head, crying out as he licked you through it, swallowing everything you gave him.
When you finally stopped shaking, he kissed the inside of your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up.
Still on his knees. Still hard.
But now? Smiling. Smug. Possessive.
“Still alive?” he teased. You gave a breathless laugh. “Barely.”
“Good,” he said, standing. “Because I’m not done with you.” He pulled you up to your feet and spun you to face the mirror.
Your reflection was glowing—lips parted, chest heaving, legs weak.
Sunghoon pressed up behind you, cock dragging along your ass as he leaned in to whisper:
“Bend over the seat.”
You obeyed—bare hands gripping the backrest, legs shaking as he kicked your feet further apart.
He stroked himself behind you, tip brushing your folds.
“Look how ready you are,” he murmured. “Already dripping again.”
He slid in with one thrust. You both moaned. You watched in the mirror as he grabbed your hips and began to move—slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch inside.
Then harder. Faster. Filthy.
The sound of skin slapping, your breathy moans, his rough grunts—it was insane. His hand slid around to grip your throat gently, tipping your face toward the mirror again.
“Watch, baby. Watch me fuck you.” You did.
And it was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen.You—bent over, mouth open in shock. Him—behind you, wrecked, hips snapping, muscles straining.
And you couldn’t last. You were already so full. So overstimulated. So his. “I’m—gonna—again—”
“Do it,” he panted. “Cum for me. Make a mess. I’m right behind you.” You came again—harder this time, louder, a cry ripped from your throat as your body clenched around him.
And with a final groan—“Fuck, yes”—he came too, spilling deep inside you, his hips twitching, hands gripping your waist tight as he gave you everything. You collapsed onto the velvet seat, breathless, shaking.
Sunghoon leaned over you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
You both stared into the mirror. Sweaty. Marked. Ruined.
“…Best love hotel ever,” you mumbled.
Sunghoon laughed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“Welcome to the last stops, baby.”
The water steamed around you, warm and humming, tiny waves lapping at your sides as you sank back into the love hotel’s private jacuzzi.
The bathroom light was dim, glowing low and amber, reflecting off the tiled walls like candlelight.
You barely had time to close your eyes before a pair of arms slipped around your waist from behind.
“Round three,” Sunghoon murmured into your shoulder.
“Already?” you whispered, dazed. “You’re serious?”
“You’re mine now,” he said simply. “I’m never gonna be done.”
You moaned as he pulled you back into his chest, your legs floating around his hips, his hands sliding across your stomach beneath the water.
Then higher.
Until he had your breasts cupped in both palms.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m obsessed.”
You bit your lip, gasping as he started to play with them — thumbs brushing your nipples, squeezing gently like he’d been waiting to get his hands on them all night.
“I always noticed,” he confessed, pressing kisses to the back of your neck. “Every time you stretched in front of me, every time your shirt clung to them when it rained—"
“Sunghoon—”
“—and now they’re mine,” he said, voice rough with need. “So I’m gonna touch them whenever I want.”
His mouth trailed down your neck, then he reached around, shifting you to straddle his lap in the water.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, lowering his mouth to your chest.
Then he kissed your breasts—slow, wet kisses, tongue flicking across your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth.
You let out a soft moan, your hands burying in his wet hair. He groaned into your skin, pulling your body even closer until your tits were pressed to his face. His voice was muffled. “I could live right here.” You giggled breathlessly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m obsessed,” he corrected, licking again. “Let me worship you.” You felt his cock harden again beneath you, hot and heavy in the water.
“Sunghoon…”
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, mouth brushing your chest. “One more. Just one more.”
He reached under the water, lining himself up, and slowly eased you down onto him — warm water swirling around your waists as you sank onto his cock, inch by thick inch.
You both groaned. It felt so full like this. So warm. Slippery. Intimate. His forehead pressed to yours, hands gripping your waist.
“Move for me, baby,” he whispered. “Nice and slow.”
You rolled your hips, riding him gently in the water, the movement easy and fluid with the water supporting your weight. And he couldn’t stop watching your chest.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Bounce for me, just like that. Look at them—"
Your tits bounced with every movement, droplets clinging to your nipples, glistening under the soft light. His hands returned to them again and again — massaging, squeezing, sucking one into his mouth as you moved on him.
You whined. “You’re too into this—”
“I warned you,” he growled. “They’re mine now.”
Then he grabbed your hips, took over the pace, thrusting up into you as the water splashed gently around you. Slow, deep strokes. His cock dragging against your sensitive walls, your body already so used to him but still twitching at the stretch. You clung to him, lips brushing his. “You feel so good.”
“I want you to cum on my cock like this,” he breathed. “Wanna feel you clench around me again.”
His hand slid between your bodies, thumb brushing over your clit under the water — slow, tight circles until you were gasping again.
“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “While I’m buried inside you. I want to feel it.”
You did. With a broken gasp, body trembling in the bubbling heat, your walls tightened around him, clenching so hard he swore under his breath—
“Fuck—yes—fuck, you’re perfect—”
And then he came too, moaning into your mouth as he spilled inside you again, his arms tightening around you as if he couldn’t let you go. You stayed there, clinging to him, your body spent and warm, water lapping gently against your skin.
He kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Then your boob. Again.
“Seriously?” “What?” he said innocently. “They’re the love of my life now.”
The water steamed around you, warm bubbles churning against your skin as Sunghoon's hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against his hard body. His lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to send shivers racing through you despite the heat. "Mine" he growled low, voice rough with need, his cock already throbbing against your thigh, slick with the jacuzzi's warmth and his own arousal.
You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he lifted you slightly, the water sloshing around your waists. His mouth captured yours in a fierce kiss, tongue plunging deep, claiming every inch while one hand slid between your legs. Fingers parted your folds, stroking your clit with firm circles that made you gasp into his mouth. He didn't tease for long—Sunghoon never did when possession burned this hot. Two fingers pushed inside you, curling to hit that spot that had your walls clenching around him.
"Fuck, you're still so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, pumping his fingers faster, thumb grinding your clit. The water made everything slicker, hotter, your body responding with desperate bucks against his hand. But he wasn't done worshipping yet. Withdrawing his fingers, he brought them to your mouth, pressing them past your lips. "Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this." You sucked eagerly, tongue swirling around his digits, eyes locked on his darkened gaze.
Satisfaction flashed in his eyes as he pulled his hand away, replacing it with the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. But instead of thrusting in right there, he stood fully, water cascading off his toned chest and abs, muscles flexing as he hauled you up with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, the jacuzzi's edge pressing into your back for leverage. "Not like this," he said, voice husky. "I want to fuck you standing, feel every inch of you gripping me while I hold you open."
He shifted, one arm banding around your back to support you, the other guiding his cock. The tip breached you slowly at first, stretching your pussy with that delicious burn as he sank in inch by inch. You moaned, head falling back, the steam-filled air thick with the scent of sex and chlorine. Water lapped at your joined bodies, but it was nothing compared to the heat building where he filled you completely, balls pressing against your ass.
Sunghoon groaned, hips snapping forward in a sharp thrust that buried him to the hilt. "God, yes—tight like this, just for me." He started a rhythm, powerful and unrelenting, each drive lifting you slightly against him, your breasts bouncing with the force. His free hand roamed, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you cry out, then soothing it with his mouth, sucking the peak between his teeth. You clung to him, nails raking down his back, urging him deeper.
The standing position let him angle just right, his cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting your g-spot with every plunge. Water splashed around you as he fucked harder, possessive grunts escaping him. "No one else gets this. No one else fucks you like I do." His pace quickened, hips pistoning, the slap of wet skin echoing in the steamy enclosure. Your pussy fluttered around him, building toward that edge, clit grinding against his pelvis with each thrust.
He sensed it, shifting his hold to free a hand, fingers finding your clit again. He rubbed in tight, fast circles, matching his brutal rhythm. "Cum for me. Milk my cock while I fill you up." The command pushed you over, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, walls spasming as you screamed his name. Sunghoon followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, hot cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He held you there, both panting, his forehead pressed to yours as the aftershocks rippled through.
But even spent, his grip didn't loosen. "We're not done" he whispered, already hardening inside you again. "I want more".
Sunghoon's cock twitched inside your still-pulsing pussy, the mix of his cum and your juices leaking down your thighs into the bubbling water. He didn't pull out yet, instead rocking his hips in slow, deliberate grinds that kept the friction alive, his mouth crashing back onto yours. The kiss was messy, tongues tangling with renewed hunger, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he swallowed your whimpers. "You feel that?" he rasped between breaths, one hand cupping your ass to tilt you higher on his shaft. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're ruined for anyone else."
He thrust up again, harder this time, the water churning wildly as he bounced you on his length. Your oversensitive walls clenched around him, every slide sending sparks of pleasure-pain through your core. You gasped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to beg, but he silenced you with another deep plunge, his free hand tangling in your wet hair to yank your head back. His lips attacked your throat, sucking marks into the skin—dark bruises that would linger as proof of his claim.
The rhythm built fast, his hips snapping with possessive force, cock stretching you wide with each entry. Your clit rubbed against his base, the pressure coiling tight despite the fresh ache from your first climax. "That's it, take it all," he growled, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. You shattered again sooner than expected, body trembling as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn't stop. Sunghoon kept pounding, chasing his own release while your pussy fluttered helplessly around him, overstimulated nerves firing wildly.
"Fuck, yes—squeeze me like that," he grunted, finally spilling inside you with a guttural moan, hot ropes of cum painting your walls anew. He held you impaled, panting against your shoulder, but his cock stayed buried deep, semi-hard and insistent. Slowly, he lowered you both back into the jacuzzi, the warm jets massaging your joined bodies as he pulled you onto his lap facing him.
His hands roamed your back, tracing the scratches you'd left earlier, before cupping your face for a slower makeout. Lips brushed softly at first, then deeper, his tongue exploring lazily while his hips shifted beneath you. You felt him thickening again, the third round stirring as he broke the kiss to murmur, "On your knees. Show me how much you need my cock."
You slid down eagerly, the water lapping at your chest as you positioned yourself between his spread thighs. His erection stood proud, veined and glistening with your combined fluids. Wrapping your hand around the base, you leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting the salty mix of cum and arousal. Sunghoon's fingers threaded through your hair, guiding you gently at first. "Suck it. Take me deep."
Your lips parted, sliding over the head, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed down, taking more with each pass. The jacuzzi's bubbles tickled your skin, adding to the sensory overload as you worked him with your mouth—tongue swirling along the underside, hand stroking what you couldn't fit. He groaned, hips bucking slightly, fucking your face with controlled thrusts. "God, your mouth... so fucking good. Look at me while you do it."
Eyes locked on his, darkened with lust, you hummed around his length, the vibration drawing a hiss from him. Saliva dripped down your chin, mixing with the water, as you deepthroated him, throat relaxing to accommodate his girth. His grip tightened, possessive, holding you there for a moment before letting you pull back for air. "Enough." he said hoarsely, hauling you up for another searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.
He spun you around then, pressing your back to his chest, legs draped over his as he positioned you. One arm locked around your waist, the other parting your thighs wide. "Spread for me," he commanded, fingers dipping into your soaked pussy, scooping out some of his cum before rubbing it over your clit. You moaned too cock drunk to speak, arching into his touch, but he was already lining up his cock, slamming home in one fluid motion.
This angle let him go deeper, the head of his dick battering your cervix with every upward thrust. Water splashed over the jacuzzi's edge as he fucked you relentlessly, his mouth on your neck, biting and licking. "You're mine to use"he whispered hotly, fingers returning to your clit, pinching and rolling it until you were sobbing with overstimulation. Your body betrayed you, hips grinding back despite the intensity, chasing the building pressure. "Yours only-fuck— yours." You managed to replied back.
He didn't let up, pace brutal, cock dragging against your g-spot with precision. The coil snapped violently—your pussy gushed around him, squirting in forceful arcs that mixed with the jacuzzi water, soaking his thighs. "Fuck, yes—squirt for me, baby," he praised, thrusting through it, prolonging the waves until you were a trembling mess.
Sunghoon came with a roar, flooding you once more, his body shuddering against yours. He held you close through the aftershocks, kisses turning tender, lips brushing your temple, your jaw. "All mine,"he murmured, finally softening and slipping out, cum trickling from your abused pussy.
Exhausted, he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping you in a towel before carrying you to the nearby lounge chair. The steam still hung in the air as he settled beside you, pulling you into his chest. His arms encircled you possessively, one hand stroking your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. "Sleep now" he whispered, voice soft and kissing the top of your head. You drifted off to the rhythm of his heartbeat, safe and claimed in his embrace.
The scent of miso soup and freshly baked melonpan woke you before sunlight did.
You blinked against the soft morning glow spilling in through the patterned blinds.
The mirror above the bed was foggy now from the jacuzzi steam the night before — a quiet, ghostly reminder of everything you’d done in this ridiculous love hotel.
The sheets were wrapped around you like a cocoon, and when you turned over, the space beside you was empty. But only for a second. Because then Sunghoon walked in, shirtless, hair a mess, tray in hand. Room service.
“Good morning, superstar,” he grinned. You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “You ordered food?”
“I ordered everything.”
He plopped the tray down on the bed — steaming rice bowls, tamagoyaki, cut fruit in flower shapes, and melonpan fresh enough that you could smell the butter. Two iced coffees sat sweating in the corner. You blinked. “You remembered melonpan?”
“You moaned about it in your sleep,” he teased, climbing back into bed. You slapped his chest lightly. “You’re lying.”
“Maybe,” he grinned. “Maybe I just like hearing you moan.”
You groaned, flopping face-first into a pillow. “Stop talking.”
He chuckled. “That’s rich, coming from someone who begged me in a fake train room last night.”
You threw the other pillow at him.
He caught it mid-air. “I’m keeping this one. Smells like your shampoo.”
You peeked out from under the sheets, still flushed.
“Are you… always like this in the morning?”
“Only when I wake up with my favorite person naked beside me.”
He leaned over to kiss your cheek.
Then your shoulder. Then your chest.
You shoved him back with a laugh. “Eat your breakfast.” “I’m trying, but my meal’s hiding under all those blankets—ow, okay, I’m done—!”
He handed you a cup of coffee like it was the holy grail. You drank. Grateful. Warm in more ways than one. After a moment of silence, your voice dropped.
“So… this isn’t just a one-time thing, right?”
Sunghoon didn’t hesitate.
“Babe. I came like a dozen times and cried into your neck. You’re not getting rid of me.” You snorted into your cup. He reached across the tray, brushing your fingers with his.
“I mean it. I want you. All the time. After we go home. Even when you’re being annoying.”
You narrowed your eyes. “When am I annoying?”
“Specially when your annoying,” he smiled. He reached for his phone and, without asking, snapped a picture of you wrapped in blankets, coffee cup in hand, cheeks flushed from laughter.
You groaned. “No—delete that—!”
“Nope,” he grinned, adding it to an album. “This is my favorite version of you. Hair messy, barely alive, and mine.”
You went still. Then softly, “Yours?”
He looked up. “Of course.” Then quieter.
“...Always hoped you’d be.” You leaned in and kissed him slow. Sleepy. Full of a new kind of sweetness.
“Okay,” you whispered. “So what now?”
Sunghoon leaned back against the headboard, arm around you.
“We’ll finish the trip,” he said. “Take more pictures. Eat ridiculous food.”
Then, with a cheeky grin:
“See if the other rooms here have different themes. Maybe one with clouds? A plane? Hospital bed—?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, but hear me out—”
You shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth.
He chewed, smug.
Then he laced his fingers through yours.
“I want to do this every year,” he said seriously. “Travel. Get lost. End up somewhere weird.”
- You thought turning down your CEO would be the end of it—until he shows up in your grandmother’s kitchen, wearing a ridiculous floral vest, dramatically praising homemade kimchi like it’s a Michelin-star meal… and quietly trying to win over the one person who matters most.
wc: lost count...💔
From the moment you started working at the front desk, you already understood—quietly, instinctively—that people like Park Sunghoon didn’t end up with people like you. His world was glass walls, tailored suits, and decisions that carried weight you couldn’t even measure.
Yours was warm greetings, ringing phones, and knowing exactly which employee liked their coffee a certain way. It should’ve stayed that simple. But it didn’t—because for reasons that still didn’t make sense, he kept choosing you. Lingering by your desk, asking questions he didn’t need answers to, calling you directly just to ask if you’d eaten.
Then came the coffee you didn’t order, the flowers without a name, the way he stood beside you fixing a printer like he had nowhere else to be. And when he asked you out—calm, sincere, no pressure—you said no. Not because you didn’t feel it, but because you did, and that scared you more than anything else. You thought that would end it. It didn’t. He didn’t push—but he stayed.
And somehow, that persistence led him here. To your grandmother’s house. An hour away from the city.
In a full suit.
You were in the middle of making kimchi, hands stained red with chili paste, apron slightly crooked, when the knock came. You opened the door without thinking—and froze.
“Sir?” you blinked, because there he was, like he had stepped out of your other life and into this one without warning. “Hi,” he said, like this was normal. Like he hadn’t just shown up uninvited in your hometown. You didn’t even get to question it properly because your grandmother appeared behind you, took one look at him, and immediately decided he belonged to you.
“Oh! You finally brought a man home!” she beamed, already pulling him inside while you stood there in disbelief. “Grandma, no—he’s not—” Too late. She had already dragged him into the kitchen, and the worst part? He didn’t correct her. Not even a little. You grabbed his sleeve the second you could. “Did you follow me?” you whispered sharply. He leaned just slightly closer, voice calm.
“Your coworker talks too much.” Your eyes widened. “That’s creepy.” “That’s effort,” he corrected—and before you could argue further, your grandma shoved a bright red floral vest into his hands and told him to put it on if he was going to help. And he did. Without hesitation.
At first, it was almost entertaining. Watching Park Sunghoon—your intimidating, always-composed CEO, stand there in a ridiculous vest while your grandmother handed him vegetables like he’d been hired on the spot. “Not like that,” she said, grabbing his wrist gently and adjusting how he held the knife.
“Cut properly. You’ll hurt yourself.” He nodded immediately, following every instruction like it mattered, like this was just as important as anything he’d ever done. You leaned against the counter, watching with a smirk. “Careful, sir. That’s a big career shift.” He glanced at you, calm but with that quiet challenge in his eyes.
“I adapt quickly.” “We’ll see,” you muttered.
Your grandma, meanwhile, had already started her questioning—casual in tone, but sharp underneath. “So,” she said, watching his hands as he cut, “you’re the boss, right?” “Yes, ma’am,” he answered respectfully. You almost choked. He never talked like that in the office. “You make a lot of money?” she continued.
“Grandma—!” you cut in, mortified, but he didn’t even hesitate. “I’m comfortable,” he said simply. She hummed. “That means yes.” You pressed your lips together, watching him, but he stayed composed, continuing to cut more carefully now.
“You work all the time?” she asked. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I make time for what matters.” Her eyes flicked up. “And my granddaughter matters?” You froze. Sunghoon didn’t. “Yes,” he said, steady, like it was the easiest truth he’d ever told. Your chest tightened, but before you could process it, your grandma tapped his hand lightly.
“Focus. Your cuts are uneven.” “Sorry,” he murmured, adjusting immediately.
But soon enough, cutting turned into mixing—and that’s when things changed. At first, he kept up. Then slowly… he didn’t. Your grandma moved like she had endless stamina, hands quick and practiced, while Sunghoon—despite trying—started to fall behind. You noticed the shift immediately: the slight tension in his shoulders, the slower movements, the controlled breathing he was trying very hard to hide.
You bit back a smile and leaned closer. “What happened, sir?” you whispered teasingly. “Too much for you?” “I’m fine,” he replied, but there was a faint strain under his calm voice now. You tilted your head, grinning. “You can go home, you know.” That did it. His hands paused for half a second, then moved again—faster this time, more deliberate. “I’m not going home,” he said quietly. “You’re about to collapse.”
“I said I’m fine.” “You look like you’re negotiating with your own arms.” He shot you a sharper look—and then just like that, something in him shifted. He doubled his effort. Faster. Stronger. Determined. You blinked, surprised, as he pushed through it like losing wasn’t an option. Your grandma paused, watching him—and then smiled. “Oh?” she hummed.
“Pretty boy’s stubborn.” You nearly laughed out loud. “Pretty boy?” you repeated under your breath, and this time, a faint flush crept up his neck—but he didn’t stop.
Then your grandma reached for a piece of kimchi, wrapped it with meat, and held it up to him. “Here,” she said. “Eat.” You went still. That wasn’t just feeding—it meant something. Sunghoon blinked, just once, caught off guard—but then he leaned in and took the bite.
And immediately—immediately—he turned dramatic. “Oh—” he breathed out, eyes widening like he’d just experienced something life-changing. “Mm. Mm!” He nodded quickly, covering his mouth slightly as he chewed, like he was trying to process it. “This is—wow—this is incredible.”
You stared at him. He wasn’t done. “The flavor—” he continued, pointing slightly like he was analyzing fine dining, “—it’s deep, but not overwhelming. The spice hits, but it doesn’t overpower the meat, and the balance—this is perfect. Actually perfect.” Your jaw dropped. Your grandma’s face lit up. “Really?” “Yes,” he said immediately, completely sincere—or at least convincing enough to be dangerous.
“I’ve never had anything like this.” You kicked his foot under the table. He ignored you. “I might need another bite,” he added thoughtfully. “Just to confirm.” “Eat more!” your grandma laughed, clearly won over, and you watched in disbelief as he nodded like he’d just secured approval in a board meeting.
Then he turned to you—of course he did—picked up another piece, and held it out. “You too.” You stared at him. “…You’re unbelievable.” “Eat,” he said softly, and you rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, taking the bite just to shut him up. He watched you the entire time, that small, satisfied smile creeping back like he’d just won something.
Later, when everything was done, your grandma sent you outside to set the table for dinner. The air felt cooler, quieter—but your thoughts weren’t. You moved slower than necessary, adjusting plates that didn’t need adjusting, because something about the way he had just fit into your world so easily was unsettling in the best way.
Through the open door, you could still see them—your grandma and Sunghoon—alone now. She turned to him, arms loosely crossed.
“You like my granddaughter,” she said plainly. He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She studied him carefully. “You have money, status, everything already. Why her?” He exhaled softly. “Because she doesn’t treat me like I’m any of that,” he said. “She treats me like I’m just me.”
Your grandma hummed. “And that’s enough?” “No,” he admitted. “But it’s where it starts.” A pause. Then quieter, more certain, “I’m here because I’m serious about her.” She watched him for a long moment. “And if she refuses again?” “Then I’ll respect it,” he said. “But I won’t stop caring about her.”
Outside, your hands stilled against the table.
Your chest felt too full.
You hadn’t told him to leave.
And maybe… you didn’t want to.
By the time you finish setting everything up outside, the sky has softened into that warm, late-afternoon glow that makes everything feel slower, gentler. The low table—your grandma’s old soban—is already filled with dishes you grew up eating, the kind that never needed recipes because they lived in memory. You’re adjusting the last set of chopsticks when you hear the door slide open behind you.
“Careful,” Sunghoon says, stepping out with a bowl in his hands like it’s something delicate, even though you know it’s heavy. “Where do you want this?”
You glance over your shoulder—and pause.
He still has the vest on.
Blazer now off, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly out of place now, a faint sheen of effort still clinging to him—and somehow, instead of looking out of place, he just looks… there. Like he’s settled into this version of himself far too easily. “…There,” you say, pointing, before quickly looking away.
Your grandma follows right after him, carrying the rest like she hasn’t spent the entire afternoon working. “Sit, sit,” she insists, waving both of you down. “Food is better when it’s eaten warm.”
You settle onto the floor, legs folding naturally beneath you. Sunghoon hesitates for half a second—clearly not used to this—but then lowers himself across from you anyway, adjusting awkwardly at first before finding his balance.
“Comfortable?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He meets your eyes, completely serious. “Very.”You snort. “Liar.”
“I’m adapting,” he corrects.Your grandma laughs, clearly entertained, and starts piling food onto his plate before he can even protest. “Eat more. You worked hard.”
“Thank you,” he says immediately, straightening slightly like he’s receiving something important.
You watch as he takes his first proper bite of the meal—and like earlier, he doesn’t just eat. He reacts.
There’s a small pause. Then— “…Wow.”
You close your eyes. Not again.
“This is dangerous,” he continues, shaking his head lightly like he’s processing something serious. “If I eat like this every day, I’m never going back to my own house.”Your grandma bursts into laughter. “Then don’t go back!” she teases. You groan. “Grandma, please don’t encourage him.”
“I’m just being honest,” Sunghoon adds, placing a hand over his chest like he’s making a formal declaration. “I think I’ve found where I belong.”
You shoot him a look. “You’ve been here for three hours.” “And I’ve already been fed better than I have in years.”
“That’s because you eat like a stressed executive.” “I am a stressed executive.”
Your grandma laughs again—louder this time, clearly delighted—and reaches over to add more food to his plate. “You’re funny,” she tells him, shaking her head. “A pretty boy and funny. That’s rare.” You nearly choke on your drink. “Grandma—” But Sunghoon just nods, completely unfazed. “I do my best.”
You stare at him in disbelief. He glances at you briefly, just enough for you to catch the small, teasing curve of his lips before he looks back at your grandma.
“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “if I keep eating well and working hard, do I get promoted?” “Promoted?” your grandma echoes.
“Yes,” he replies smoothly. “From kitchen assistant… to someone who’s allowed to come back.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then your grandma laughs—really laughs this time, shoulders shaking. “You’re bold,” she says. “I learned from the best today,” he answers without missing a beat.
You cover your face. “This is ridiculous.”But you’re smiling. You can feel it. And he notices. Of course he does.
“Eat,” he murmurs, softer now, nudging a dish slightly closer to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You glance at him, then at your grandma, who’s still watching the two of you with that knowing look she thinks you don’t notice.
“…You’re enjoying this too much,” you mutter. “I am,” he admits easily.
There’s no hesitation. No pretending. Just quiet honesty. And somehow, that’s the part that gets to you the most.
The conversation flows easier after that—your grandma asking him random things, him answering without that usual corporate filter, slipping into something more relaxed, more real. At one point, he even tries a joke—an actual, intentional joke—and it’s so painfully obvious you brace yourself for impact.
“If I come here often,” he starts, completely serious, “do I get a loyalty card? Like—ten meals and I earn a permanent seat?”
You stare at him. “That’s your joke?” you deadpan. But your grandma, Your grandma loves it.
She laughs so hard she has to set her chopsticks down. “Ay, you’re funny!” she says, wiping at her eyes. “Okay, okay—if you come ten times, I’ll give you a special seat!”
Sunghoon nods like he’s just secured a contract. “Deal.” You look between them, incredulous. “You’re both unbelievable.”
“And you’re outnumbered,” he adds calmly. You scoff—but you don’t argue. Because as the evening settles around you, laughter mixing with the quiet hum of your neighborhood, something shifts in a way you can’t quite explain.
He doesn’t look out of place anymore. Not across from you. Not here. And when he catches your eye again—soft, steady, like he’s not in a rush for anything—you realize something you’ve been avoiding all day.
This doesn’t feel impossible.Not like you thought it would. Not anymore.
Dinner stretches longer than you expect, the kind that doesn’t end when the food is gone because the talking keeps going—your grandma asking him about everything from traffic in the city to whether he knows how to fix a leaking faucet (“I can learn,” he says, completely serious), and Sunghoon answering like none of it is beneath him, like this is just another version of a conversation he wants to be part of.
At some point he even refills her glass before his own without thinking, and she notices—of course she does—and gives you that look from across the table that says he was raised well. You pretend not to see it, focusing very hard on your rice while he, completely unhelpfully, slides one of the better pieces of meat toward your side of the table like it’s second nature.
“Eat properly,” he murmurs, low enough that only you hear, and you nudge his foot under the table in warning. He doesn’t even react—just keeps talking to your grandma like nothing happened, like he didn’t just casually act like he’s always been part of your space.
By the time the sky deepens into evening, the air cooler and quieter, it’s finally time for him to leave. You stand up first, brushing your hands together, already preparing yourself for the awkward shift back to reality—back to sir, back to distance—but your grandma beats you to it. “Wait,” she says, already heading inside before either of you can ask why.
You glance at Sunghoon, arms crossing instinctively. “You should go before she decides to adopt you.” He tilts his head slightly, lips curving. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“You should.” “I don’t think she would agree with you.” “You’ve known her for one afternoon.”
“And yet,” he says lightly, “I’ve been fed, praised, and given a title.” You narrow your eyes. “Pretty boy is not a title.”
“It sounded official.” Before you can argue, your grandma returns—carrying a container.
Not a small one. A proper container, filled generously with kimchi and neatly packed side dishes.
You blink. “Grandma—”
“This is for you,” she says, handing it straight to Sunghoon like it’s been decided. “You liked it so much, right?”
For the first time that evening, he actually looks a little surprised—but it melts quickly into something softer, something warmer. He takes it carefully, almost respectfully. “Thank you,” he says, and there’s no playfulness in it this time. “I really appreciate it.”
“You eat well,” she replies, nodding in approval. “Come back if you want more.” You choke. “Grandma—!” But she just waves you off.
Sunghoon glances at you then, just briefly, and there’s something in his expression—quiet, pleased, a little victorious—before he bows his head slightly to her. “I will,” he says simply.
You walk him out to the gate, arms still crossed, trying to ignore the way your chest feels oddly tight now that he’s actually leaving. The street is quieter, the kind of stillness that makes everything feel more real than it did a few minutes ago. “You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter, not quite looking at him.
“I know.” “…Then why did you?”
He adjusts his grip on the container slightly, gaze settling on you. “Because I meant it.” You swallow.
Before you can respond, your grandma calls out from behind you. “Wait!” You both turn.
She’s standing just a few steps from the door, squinting slightly like she’s just remembered something important.
“What’s your name again?” she asks. There’s a brief pause. And then—
“Park Sunghoon,” he answers. And just like that— Everything clicks.
Your grandma’s expression changes.
Not dramatically. Not loudly. But you see it—the realization settling in, the way her eyes widen just a fraction before narrowing again, this time with recognition.
“Park… Sunghoon?” she repeats slowly. You freeze. Oh no. Because you know that look. That I’ve heard that before look. And then she turns to you. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Oh,” she says. Your stomach drops.
“Ohhh.”
“Grandma—” you start, already panicking. But it’s too late.
“You’re that Park Sunghoon?” she says, pointing at him now, half amused, half impressed. “The one she keeps talking about?” You close your eyes. You actually close your eyes.
“Grandma, please don’t—”
“The one who keeps bothering her at work?” she continues, completely ignoring you. “Sending her coffee, asking if she ate—” “I don’t—” you try to cut in.
“And the one she says is handsome but too much trouble—” “Grandma!”
Sunghoon goes very still beside you. “…Handsome?” he repeats quietly. You want to disappear.
“She complains about you all the time,” your grandma adds helpfully. “But it’s the kind of complaining where she smiles after.”
You make a strangled noise.
“That’s not—” “And she said,” your grandma continues, clearly enjoying this far too much, “that you make her nervous.”
Silence.Thick. Heavy. Dangerous silence. You slowly turn your head toward him. Big mistake.
Because he’s already looking at you. And he’s smiling. Not smug. Not teasing. Something softer. Warmer. “…You like me,” he says quietly. “I never said that,” you fire back immediately, face burning. “You didn’t have to.”
You glare at him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”“I’m just confirming what I heard.” “You heard wrong.”
Your grandma hums behind you. “Mm. Sure.” You whip around. “Grandma, go inside.”
She waves you off like you’re a child. “Just don’t take too long. It’s getting late.” And then she leaves. Just like that. Leaving you alone with him. Again.
You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “This is so embarrassing.” “I think it’s helpful,” he says. “Helpful for who?”
“For me.” “Of course it is.” There’s a small pause.
Then “…You really talk about me that much?” he asks, softer now. You hesitate.“…Sometimes.”
“How often is sometimes?” You sigh, defeated. “…More than I should.” He nods slowly, like he’s processing something important.
Then he takes a small step closer—not enough to overwhelm, just enough to close the distance a little. “I’ll take that,” he murmurs.nYou shake your head, but there’s no bite left in it.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he says, that quiet steadiness returning, “you didn’t deny liking me.” You open your mouth— Then close it again. Because for once—You don’t have a quick answer. And he notices. Of course he does.
“Goodnight,” he says gently, like he’s decided not to push further tonight. You blink, a little caught off guard.
“…Goodnight.”
He turns, finally heading toward his car, the container still in his hands like something precious. But before he gets in, he glances back.
Just once. And the look he gives you—
It’s not victory. It’s not teasing. It’s something quieter. Something certain. Like he’s not guessing anymore. Like he knows and somehow…
💌: i hope you liker it! i was smiling ear to ear from just watching the video and got ideas from sunghoon's goofy ass😆 and happy 2,159k followers to me~ (didn't even notice it huhu im super busy for uni and upcoming finals — god i can't believe in a month ill be in my 3rd year) i love you all and thank you for sticking up until now~ to more memories with you lovely beings~ 🥹🫶🏻
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genre. best friends brother AU, smut smut smut, M/F, part 2👻
warnings. horror film references, ghost face sunghoon, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 5000
now playing. Scream//Misfits
smut warnings. cnc, dom Sunghoon, role play, mask kink, degradation, rimming, anal, sub drop, unprotected sex, etc
The mouth-watering scent of melted butter looms around the room as you busily work to multitask and alternate between checking on pizza bakes and Sunghoon’s favorite type of popcorn.
How could you possibly forget the slather of salty clear yellow left behind on his lips after shoving a handful into his mouth, winking at you as his tongue dragged across to lick up the tasty mess left behind, much as he had when..
The high-pitch ring of your cellphone rips you from your thoughts, glancing around quickly and turning the stove fire off with the sound of kernels expanding filling up the kitchen. “Shit.” You mutter, quickly wiping your hands, it’s probably him.
‘Uknown Caller’ stares back at you while your thumb hovers to answer, could just be a scam call.. “Hello?”
“Hello?”
“..yes?”
“Who is this?”
Leaning back against the kitchen island, you frown, not recognizing the voice on the other end of the line. “You called me, who is this?”
“What number is this?”
“Who are you trying to reach?”
“I don’t know.”
Opening and shutting your mouth, you glance around swiftly, turning your attention to the windows. “Hmm, I think you have the wrong number. It happens, take it easy.” Without a second thought you hang-up, uncovering the popcorn you made specially for your date tonight.
Another blaring ring jolts your heart, lifting onto the balls of your feet before reaching for your phone annoyed. “Wrong number again.”
“No, no, don’t hang up.”
“Why?”
“I like your voice.” He says smoothly, adding a small laugh. “What are you wearing right now?”
“Ugh, they have 800 numbers for that dude.” You say, prepared to hang up again. “Bye.”
“No no! Wait!”
Sighing, you roll your eyes and look over your freshly manicured nails. “Make it quick.”
“Tell me your name.” He says in a flirtatious tone.
“Why do you wanna know my name?” You giggle, shutting the oven off to let the pizza pockets cool down.
“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” He says wickedly, making your heart skip a beat as you make a quick spin to glance around.
“What did you say??”
“Uhm,” clearing his throat, he changes to speak in a softer tone. “I said I want to know who I’m talking to.”
“That’s not what you said!” You stammer, quickly running around to check the window locks and doors. “Don’t fucking call me again!”
“Don’t forget the garage door, baby.”
Fear spikes up your chest, running back through the kitchen to the garage door, too late as it crashes open and a masked figure bursts through with a knife in hand chasing you past the entrance and around the kitchen counter.
“No no! PLEASE DON’T!” You beg, taking a deep gulp, panting hard as you try to catch your breath..
The large figure looms closer, knife tightly clutched ready to lunge forward and attack until your cellphone blares throughout the kitchen space again, darting both of your eyes to the device.
“Oh shit, it’s your sister.” You say, reaching for your phone prepared to answer the call until Sunghoon whacks your hand away causing the phone to slip from your hold and land with a nasty thud. “Hoon! You jerk!”
His lack of response continues, only moving in closer until your back meets the edge of the kitchen counter. The mask even more wicked this close-up, barely revealing his concentrated vicious gaze behind the fabric peeled over his eyes.
‘If you break character, I’ll have to punish you.’
Sunghoon chuckled, adding a wink as you discussed and shared a secret fantasy the two of you have in common. Devising a plan to make it come to life after hitting up a costume store together. He nodded to the display holding fake blood, plastic bloody knives and the iconic Ghost Face mask before leaning in to whisper by your ear. ‘What’s your favorite scary movie?’
The fun and games subsided now as he presses in harder, whipping free a dull knife(probably borrowed from his parents kitchen) from his back pocket to press to your throat.
“I’m sorry..” you plead, tongue-tied and distracted by the thick heat shoved just beneath your navel. His hand lifts, 5 fingers held apart before your wide fear filled eyes as he pushes back and his pinky folds in, signaling you have 4 seconds left to get away.
Scanning for an escape you scram out of the kitchen and look both ways before booking it toward the living room, feet tripping over each other as heavy footsteps come closer up behind you.
“Stop stop!” You shout from one side of the couch, finding your predator barricading the room's entrance with the knife waving before his face in a mocking ‘hello’.
“You want me?” You ask boldly, tiptoeing around as he strides closer, each step nearing the couch escalating the thump in your chest. “My boyfriend will be here soon!! And he’s big!”
Sunghoon shakes his head, an audible click of his tongue sounding from where he stands nearby, he tugs your discarded phone from his pocket and shuts the device off, throwing it aside to one of the seats behind him.
Fuck. He’s really thought of everything.
“Fine. What are you going to do.. if you catch me?” You ask teasingly, opting for a new approach as you scurry to stand behind the coach as a shield, sliding from side to side depending on his movement. “Hurt me? Kill me? Choke me and spank me?”
Sunghoon’s head tilts, never once breaking his character, he stops before the center of the couch to run the knife down his chest, white t-shirt rippling beneath the blade.
“Cut me open?” You say curiously, focused on the knife trailing down to the prominent bulge between his hips. “You into that?” Bending forward, for a better view, your ass sways as he sends the knife back up to his chest, forming more wrinkles with the passing motion.
The knife drags down rougher this time, gasping at the sound of cotton ripping through as he slices down the material of his shirt slowly exposing icy white skin stretched taut over muscle. “Shit.” You mutter, entranced by the blunt tip of the knife skimming up and down the line of hair trailing from his navel down to the hidden area beneath his jeans.
He pauses, turning the knife around to hold the handle out for you to grab. “What? Want me to cut my dress open?” You scoff, receiving a slow nod in return. “No! This is a nice dress!”
Sunghoon takes a step forward with his shoulders rolled back and chest flexed, knees hitting the couch causing you to stand straight. “Sorry sorry… I mean..”
Fiddling with the straps of your dress you look down for a second and take a deep breath, still shy even though you suggested this in the first place. A streak of light from the kitchen lands across his gaze, focused dark eyes trained on your every little move as you push the straps off your shoulders and cup around your chest for the garment to stay put.
Sunghoon tips his chin in, the mask even more sinister at that angle, he nods slowly, making a quick movement to lift the knife before your face and startle you momentarily; but it’s enough time for him to round the couch and crowd in on you, fisting a tuft of your hair before you manage to run off.
“Ahh! No no!” You croon, shoved down over the back of the couch into a bent position. The tough grip on your head doesn’t relent as he runs the knife down your back to the hem of your dress, using it to flare the material up to rest above your ass.
He groans behind you, unveiling your naked already sleek glossy core, forgoing panties in favor of getting fucked faster. “Ahh, no no.” You keep on, twisting your neck back to watch the way he observes, tracing the knife over your ample cheeks. “Please mister ghost face.. not there!”
Sunghoon smirks behind the mask, turning the knife around to shove the handle between your buttcheeks. “Please, not there! Anywhere but there!”
He groans, pushing lower past your rim to your entrance to tease and poke at the wetness beginning to seep out past your hole. the dollop of slick that covers the handle makes him moan, pulling the knife back to hit your ass with the wet hardwood, erupting shame through your head as he glides it down and leaves a line of glossy arousal down to your upper thigh before the knife clatters to the floor and his knees follow. Setting down with his face hovering just behind your presented ass, he grabs your buttcheeks roughly; strong digits burying into the soft fatty flesh he’s become obsessed with pillowing around his face for the last few weeks.
“Fuck, ah, please don’t eat my ass!” You whine helplessly, smiling to yourself as you feel him use your thigh to shove the bottom half of the mask up and bite down on the pert roundness leading to your tensed rim.
The first prod of his tongue against the tight little clench of your asshole has you lifting up onto your toes, gripping at the couch under your weight to not kick back as he swirls around the muscles and spits nastily. “Ah, god damn.” You mumble to yourself, biting down on your forearm to keep in a row of moans. You aren’t supposed to enjoy this..
Two digits meet his tongue, working between your heat to lube your hole with the slick dribbling free from your cunt. Burning desire explodes through your stomach the more he uses your own arousal to open your rim up, the more he spits and shoves the mess from his tongue through your clenched muscle.
Sunghoon pants against your ass, his cock rock hard from the phone call alone. The girl of his dreams had been in his sister’s bedroom, giggling over boy bands and celebrity gossip all these years, now face down ass up trying to not cum from the impending thought of having your ass full of his cock soon, very soon.
It’s harder for him to not comment too much on how tight you wrap around his tongue, how fucking good your dirty fuckhole smells covered with spit and slick as he drags down and takes a deep inhale; thighs tremoring against his face nervously. You’re not the best at playing this part, but who cares with his tongue sunken deep between your ass cheeks, sucking the wetness straight from your cunt just to spit it back inside of your asshole and watch you open up for his fingers thrusting in and out.
“What a pretty hole.” He whispers, the rumble of his tone low, but loud enough for you to hear. Sunghoon stands, dragging his digits up and down through your dripping wet labia folds, his wrist slithering through too with a string of curses emitting as he watches your ass and cunt cradle him; making it harder to not imagine the fat girth of his cock there instead.
“You’re lucky I’d rather split your ass open and not your chest.” He says quietly, looping around your waist to manhandle you down to the floor, pulling your pretty pretty dress off as he lays you down and takes in your breasts pushing up high with each ragged breath you struggle to take. The glaze over your eyes screaming to get fucked, to fuck you like the whore you are.
Sunghoon tugs the mask back down to cover his chin, not bothered by the slick still painted over his lips and jaw. Ripping off the rest of his cut t-shirt, he looks like something straight out of one of your most depraved fantasies perched between your parted legs, jamming his clothed crotch to press flush to your core. His greedy hands run up your stomach, kneading your breasts as he seeks your neck and clasps his hands around with a firm squeeze, stealing your next breath.
“H-hoon—“ you croak, reaching for his wrists as he tightens and presses down on your windpipe. Jean covered cock rutting against your swelled pussy, further cementing how desperate you are to get fucked as you lift to roll back and feel the friction against your clit. “Fuck yes.”
It’s impossible to keep up the act the more you get lost to the pleasure, the boiling heat scorching up from between your thighs to your head. Sunghoon growls upon hearing his name moaned out, furiously pressing against your jugular until you slap at his forearms and let out a pathetic sob.
Loosening the hold, he glides down your torso, flicking your stiff nipples along the way to grip your hips roughly and hoist your lower half up, wrapping his biceps around your body to keep the backs of your thighs pressed to his chest as he leans in and rubs your cunt against the mask.
“Fuck!” The sight above you has your eyes rolling up, smacking at the floor around you as he lowers you back down and whips a strike of his palm right along your slit, making your hips jump up and down to run and chase the sensation all at once. Every action grows more delirious from there, fast to shove and kick his bottoms off as he sets your butt on his upper thighs and his length lands where it belongs, laid flat against both of your holes. He watches intently as each vein pulse’s viscously, more hungry to fuck you than he even realized throughout this game.
“Look at you.” He voices, harsh and strained. “So desperate for cock, you’re practically begging for me to fuck your ass.” His head tilts again at that evil practiced angle, admiring the shame washing down your pretty features, overwhelming your capability to breathe properly as your back arches and you give him a sad little nod.
Sunghoon cooes, inching back until the large blunt tip of his length rests against your rim, beating faster and harder than your own heartbeat. He drags the wet head around your asshole teasingly, just to watch you squirm and squeal out anxious tiny whimpers. “Is that what you want? Should I fuck your ass?”
With another nudge against your hole, you nod eagerly, teeth chattering together in anticipation. “Please.. fuck my ass.”
Sunghoon smiles behind the mask, slowly entering past your clenched muscle, earning a muffled cry as your lips purse together. The position he keeps you at isn’t the most comfortable, but mind-numbing nonetheless, having an up close viewing of his cock pushing in inch by inch, forcing the skin wrapped around his thick girth to accommodate the new sheer massive size you’ve never experienced before.
His hips meld to your ass, fully sheathed inside, panting heavily under the thin cloth covering his mouth. He whistles lowly, pausing to take in how fucking stretched you are around his cock as his fingers reach to rub and swipe around the pulled skin kissing around him. “Fuck, what would your boyfriend say?” He emphasizes by pulling back enough for half of his length to be seen, thrusting back in as slow as possible to make it all the more torturous. “If he saw you like this? Fucked up the ass, pussy wet as fuck.”
His hips snap forward roughly, jamming every bit of his girth in and back out, gaining speed with each movement. “Getting fucked in the ass is for stupid fuck whores..” he says with a hard snap of his lower half meeting yours, ass met with bruising hits of muscle and bone. “With pussys too useless and loose to even bother fucking.”
The mean-spirited intent entwined in his speech has your mind spiraling away, feeling split open more and more by each meticulous thrust meant to push your hole open until he can bury in balls deep. Sunghoon curses loudly, slapping your hips to pay attention and watch his length retreat out to the tip only to bury back in mercilessly.
Ram after ram of his hips solidifies just how fucking full you are, gazing through hooded tired eyes at his cock plunging in and out, wet by the consistent drip pushed from your cunt, passing down past the crevice of your ass making a slick mess of wet between his thighs as well.
Sunghoon nearly pulls out completely as he repositions himself, searching for the pits of your knees to shove them down against your shoulders as he mounts you and fully pushes back in. The stretch reminds you of how raw and bare all of this is, nothing between you to separate his cockhead from pressing through your ring of muscle. “So fucking wet.” He grunts, peering down between your crushed together limbs where your empty cunt shines under a heavy layer of slick. “So fucking wet from getting your ass torn open huh? What a good slut.”
He manages to snake one of his hands to your cunt, hips jumping under his weight desperately as your body begs to be touched just once. Clit hard as a rock as he softly grazes past the bundle of sensitive nerves to sink lower toward your pussy hole.
Silently pleading for more, you tiredly hook around your knees to keep yourself in place and free his hands, pussy opening up as you bite down a cry and ask between grinding teeth to be touched. “Please! I’m a dumb slut! Fuck me hard!”
Sunghoon’s pace falters, swallowing down a curse before picking up again into a much more brutal speed. His sight goes blurry for a moment, landing a slap down on your cunt before two fingers slink through the heat of your pussy. “Such a whore.”
His hips snap at a backbreaking speed, pushing you up against the floor roughly as he rushes to fuck you like nothing but a used up cocksleeve. Two fingers attempting to chase and fuck your pussy just as fast despite how fuzzy his mind gets with each addicting suck your ass gives around his cock.
Sunghoon’s digits hit deep, the tips pressed up against your cervix at this angle, buckling under the ruthless pumps as he stills buried deep inside your ass. It builds and builds, from the tension gathered at the tail end of your spine and the swelled flesh gripped around his fingers, you can’t control the jump from your hips. Rucking up just to feel the burning stretch, to chase the friction against your bundle of nerves trapped beneath his piercing thumb.
“H-hoon, s’too—“ you slur, eyes lit up in flames as they shoot wide open and your throat feels constrained even without long fingers wrapped around you anymore. The invisible weight of his grip remains, collapsing your chest as you suck in for a deep breath and see nothing but white. “S’too—much!”
Sunghoon pinches your clit again, the bite on your tongue turns useless as you let out a broken scream. He’s filling up your ass so good, pushing your orgasm to the coil up faster with each ramped thrust. “Need t-to cum, I’m g-gonna cum.” Breath evades your lungs, head spinning the more you try to hold back, wanting him to flood your hole before you reach your own peak of pleasure.
Sunghoon fails to answer, drawing back to land a ruthless wet slap down on your cunt. Two middle fingers sink in past your convulsing hole, forcing his pinky and index fingers alongside the foreboding stretch down to his first knuckle. They press flush to your pussy, the heel of his palm landing smacked dab against your clit at the same time that his cock pushes in your ass to the brim. With buried fingers he wiggles against the flesh stretched around his cock, pushing against the walls of your pussy until you let out a heart wrenching sob and balled fists hit the floor around you.
“You know who cums from getting their ass fucked like this?” His pace picks up again, matching the rhythm of his digits to his cock before pulling free to slap your pussy once more. “Getting fucked up the ass like nothing but a common used filthy slut.”
Without really taking in anything he’s saying through the muffled speech playing from behind the ghost face mask, you nod, over and over again. Thoughtless to the teasing thumb finding your sensitive clit again to rub figure eights over.
“I’m a s-slut!” You wail out mindlessly, back arching up until Sunghoon leans down with your legs braced upon his shoulders. Burly biceps bracket your head, snapping his hips into merciless action. The wet clap of his pelvic muscle against the fat of your ass resounds through the living room loud enough to rush blood up your face, consumed by the embarrassment and just how loose you are now. His cock slides in so easily now, so fucking good, reiterating with each seathing pass through your hole just what a god damn slut you are.
“I’m such—such a dumb slut!” You say right as a prickle hits the back of your eyes, blinking rapidly to subdue the tears ready to river out. Sunghoon’s pace turns erratic, breath quickened with eyes laser focused on your disoriented expression. “I’m—I’m just a hole.” You weep, chest caved in by your next breath. “Please, please, I’m cum—“
Sunghoon’s stomach wrenches, body locked up by the unrelenting suctioning grip around his cock, unable to pull himself out even an inch as you cum and a splash of slick smacks under his navel. “What a good fucking slut..” he says between ragged breaths, resisting the damning urge to force his length past your climax to chase his own.
The wet droplets hit your cheeks before you even realize tears have run down from your eyes, completely bewildered and blinded by your mind going blank as intense orgasm hits every tip from your fingers down to your toes, curled where they hang above you with Sunghoon’s weight crushing you under the mating press position, cock shoved deep inside rutting against the fat of your ass to savor the clamp of maddening heat closed around him.
The whimper that rips from your chest has his masked face peering up, coming to a complete stop upon finding your blazed gaze turned toward the ceiling and tears springing rapidly down your cheeks.
“Hey hey,” Sunghoons sheds the mask off quickly, his flawless skin coated in a glisten of sweat that highlights each curve and chiseled bone, making him appear even more God-like above you. Stilling his ministrations, he dips forward to cup your face and turn your watery gaze back to him, too dazed to fully register that he’s even stopped with each passing throb rippling up from your core through your gut. “What’s going on? You okay?”
A stifled helpless cry runs through your lips, cheek falling into his palm for comfort as another wound of tears pour down your cheeks from the overwhelming continuous surge of pleasure panging through your limbs. “Hoon..”
Letting out a sigh of relief he adjusts to take pressure off your upper back, allowing your thighs to drape down around his sides as he slowly eases himself free, biting down a hiss. “Was I too rough?”
Shaking your head, you can’t help but to feel needy and vulnerable, especially with your hole gaped open squeezing around nothing. “Hold me..” you whine, weakly lifting your palms to open and shut. The vision has Sunghoon’s throat jumping, stroking up the sides of your thighs with the tips of his blunt nails before guiding his hips to lay between your parted legs, hard pulsating cock nudged up against your core.
“Want me?” He asks in a low whisper, reaching to position his length between your swollen heat, snuggly fitting his thick girth tight with your flushed pussy squeezed around him. “Did I hurt you?”
His lack of confidence with regaining movement makes your chest inflate, scurrying to scrape your nails over his defined shoulders as you shake your head. “Good, felt t-too good.”
“Had me worried.” He mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your chin. “So sexy how you came just like that..”
“Please, gimme more..” the wanton little way you ask rips heat through Sunghoon’s lower back, hips jerking forward to rut his length up and down between your slit, the tip bumping and rubbing along your engorged clit menacingly.
“You’ll make me crazy—“ he groans, hand slinking down between your pressed bodies to grip around his cock and tease the tip through your wetness. “—talking like that.”
“S-so big, feel so open,” you keep whining, snaking around his neck to tangle your fingers through the sweaty hair lining his nape. “Never f-felt so stretched.”
“Fuck.” Sunghoon growls, tapping at your entrance repeatedly, abdomen locked tight indenting each muscle lined up to his chest. “W-wanna cum.. on your gaped hole.”
“Please, please give me—that,” your neck bows upward, throat on display gleaming with a heavy layer of sweat, beads trickling down between your bouncing breasts.
Sunghoon huffs, knees rutting against the hardwood floor hard enough to blossom red marks upon his skin to find later. He glides through the wet thick between your pussy again and again, shooting the arousal to spark out around his length and soak your inner thighs in the mess. “Yeah? Tell me, wanna hear y-you say it, ask for it.”
Shifting to grip around your thighs, he hoists your butt up again, the bulbous tip of his cock piercing through your stretched rim with ease; stroking in and out just to watch it disappear and edge himself further. “Ask for it.” He growls again, ordering with a firm slap to your thigh.
“Ah! Hoon!“
“Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Another strike stings across your upper thigh, clenching together from the impact sending a shot of nerves up Sunghoon’s cock.
“Please—cum all over my ass.”
A low rumbled groan emits from his chest, keeping you held up with one flexed bicep curled around your thigh, gripping at the base of his length to squeeze down to the middle of his cock. The head throbs between your ass, jerking the rest of his girth off until his balls finally squeeze up tight between his legs, lips curled in with sharp eyebrows furrowed together in anguish as the first shot of release jumps free.
“Oh—fuck,” he grits, teeth biting down on his tucked in bottom lip as he tugs harshly at his size, eyes wide and struck by the streaks of white blown across your hole, some dripping down to your unused pussy, drawing another round of cum to spill out and paint your ass in nothing but creamy white.
“So warm..” you moan, eyes rolling up as you can feel yourself clench around the bubbling arousal trickling through the cavern of your asshole, warm and sticky on the slide down.
Sunghoon groans long and loud, having to clench his eyes shut to stop himself from plunging his cock back in and out of you one more time just to watch his cum seep out around the expanse of his length pushing you to your limits. “Liked that didn’t you.” He states more than asking, grasping the base of his size to cool the incessant need to feel your suffocating heat one more time.
“Did really good for me.” He says, cupping under your knees to haul your legs open and bite at the inside of your thigh, sending your ribcage up as your back lifts from the floor with a moan. “Wish you could see how good it looks.” He mutters against your soft flesh, lapping down to your upper inner thigh for a closer look of his cum dripping from your hole to the floor. “How fucking nasty your hole looks, fucked raw like a no good filthy whore.”
His lips confuse the humiliation crashing down like brutal waves, distracting you as he bites along the juncture where your thigh meets groin, burying his teeth down deep enough to sprout a trickle of blood. The mumble of his on-going degradation hardly affects you, more turned on by his deep rasp vibrating between your thighs and shocked by his tongue passing over the cum that's nearly dried up between your pussy folds.
Sunghoon kisses up your thighs over the teeth marks left behind, met with a coppery taste as he licks at the now deep sharp indentations. The jagged edges of his canines scrap across your skin every now and then, jolting shivers up your chest and halting your breath. He works a path of tender kisses and nips up past your mound, taking extra time to suck blood up to the surface along your hip bones and waist as he makes way to your breasts and watches you with fierce intent while rolling your hardened nipple along his tongue, sucking it to press against the roof of his mouth.
“Did I make you cry?” Sunghoon frowns, seeming genuinely concerned. Having to pry his lips away from your nipples to gently sweep his thumbs across your cheeks to clean away the remnants of dry and fresh tears. Even if you look extra pretty and make his heart skip the more salty wetness gathers at your waterline.
“Yes—but not you. Made me feel too good.. you’re supposed to scare me..” you say, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
“I told you I’d protect you from the boogeyman, even if I am the boogeyman.” Sunghoon grins, chasing your lips for a kiss. “Can’t lie and say I don’t like to hear you scream and watch you cry though..”
“So, next time—“
“Next time?” Sunghoon’s eyes light up, cupping the back of your head to brush his lips down the bridge of your nose. “Already planning for next time?”
“Next timeee,” you say coyly, shoving his shoulders away to turn your bodies over together and press his back to the floor. “I’ll chase you.”
Sunghoon’s lips pout, eyebrows raised curiously. “What? Wanna make me scream?” He says with a wicked glint behind his gaze, smoothing up your hips to hold your waist firmly. “Think you can catch me?”
“We need a trilogy.” You wink, scratching down his pale chest.
“Trilogy?”
“That’s right. It’s a rarity in the horror field, but it does exist.” You quote, tickling up to his throat to cuff your hands around. “And it is a force to be reckoned with.”
genre. best friends brother AU, smut smut smut, M/F, one shot
warnings. horror film references, dom sunghoon, oral, sensory deprivation, degradation, choking, spitting, biting, rough unprotected sex. minors DNI.
wc. 4600
now playing. Freak//Doja Cat
“What’s your brother been up to? Haven’t seen him around lately.”
Your best friend clicks her tongue from across the room, long hair flipping away from her shoulders as she snaps to glare at you. “Have you been looking?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sitting up on her bed you return the glare, playfully of course.
“Can’t believe how obsessed you are with my brother.” She scoffs, returning to blend her blush. “You won’t believe it, but he got a summer job.”
“I’m not obsessed with him.” You sigh, flipping through one of the numerous Cosmopolitan issues she has collected. Flipping the corner of a page down with an article discussing exploring new kinks.
“Sunghoon wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” She says, detangling her hair to braid pigtails. “I’m convinced he’s never felt the touch of a woman in his life.”
“He’s harmless, don’t be so mean to him.” Casually scanning the article, you mentally disagree; even if Sunghoon’s more the quiet, stand-offish and observant type, your gut had a feeling he’d know exactly what to do with you. “Where’s he working?”
She snorts, turning to face you. “That’s the best part, little freak got a job at that horror museum downtown. I swear he jumped and kicked his ankles together mid-air when he got the call back.”
“Oh I bet, he loves horror movies.”
She pulls a disgusted face, shaking her head at you. “The way you can list off facts about my brother like some type of Wikipedia page needs to be studied.”
“Shut up.”
She winks, sticking out her tongue before returning to glamming herself up; shooting you a wink. “Freak.”
Summer moves slow without your usual daily excitement of catching sneaky glimpses of your crush.
It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything, it’s also not like you purposely aligned your class schedules to match your best friends for a reasonable excuse to study together for any reason other than working better with assistance. Has nothing to do with knowing she’d prefer to study at her house, where her brother conveniently always is; because as she mutters under her breath ‘he’s such a loser.’
Nothing at all to do with the fact that he was working on remodeling his car the last few months. Definitely not suggesting to study at the kitchen table to be able to admire Sunghoon coming inside covered in car oil and sweat, quietly chugging down water near the fridge while inconspicuously glancing in your direction.
Plans of hanging around all summer to seduce your best friend’s brother seemed to be on pause now, unsure what your plan even is to begin with anyway. How hard could it be? If rumors have any truth then Sunghoon should be groveling at your feet for a chance.. not that he is, yet.
“Oh Hoon’s bringing the new Scream movie later.” Your friend interrupts your silent scheming, tapping at her phone. “Didn’t you want to watch that?”
“Huh? Oh..” checking the time you note it’s getting late. “Like, when?”
“He just left work,” she nods, locking her phone. “Stay over, we’ll have a horror movie slumber party like old times.”
“Is he gonna watch with us?” You ask, sinking lower against her headboard. She mocks a gagging sound, rolling her eyes.
“Yes, probably.” Getting up she grabs extra clothes for you, motioning to her closet if you need anything else. “Gonna shower real quick if you want to head down and start up some snacks, I want popcorn.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Sunghoon works late, you think to yourself, peering through kitchen cabinets for snacks he could also want to munch on. Luckily, they are always stocked up with food for the weekends when their parents typically leave town to spend nights visiting other cities now that their kids are old enough to take care of themselves. They made sure to have all types of ramen, chips, candies and popcorn ordered before their weekly summer vacation.
“Extra butter,” you mindlessly mumble, reaching higher up for a box of microwave popcorn.
“What are you doing here?”
Sunghoon’s deep voice has you jumping, clutching at your chest and snapping around to grip onto the counter. Heart pounding fast as you look up to see him standing there with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh my God when…” you sigh, fixing your hair quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in..”
Sunghoon smirks, reaching to grab a handful of chips from the tray of food you’ve set up. “Nice PJs.”
“They’re your sisters..” you mumble shyly, returning to reach for the extra butter popcorn.
“You staying over or something?” Sunghoon sounds bored, monotone even as he chomps down chips. Standing on your toes you swat at the top shelf, keeping yourself steady with one hand as your fingers graze the box of popcorn.
His tongue clicks from behind you, striding up swiftly to reach over your head and grab the box easily. It’s a quick moment but his lower half presses flush to your backside long enough to feel the heat between his thighs mold between your buttcheeks. The cold from his chest meeting the warmth of your back simultaneously, groin heavy where it nestles between you.
Taking a step back after a minute of swatting for the box, Sunghoon swallows and licks at his upper lip, setting the popcorn down near your arm. “That’s my popcorn.”
“Oh..” calming yourself, you take a deep breath, shifting to turn and press against the counter when you realize how close he still is. “Sorry, I was getting snacks to watch the movie..”
His eyebrows furrow in question, eyes lowering to scan over your figure, quick enough that if you blink you’d miss it. “You like Scream?”
“What? Of course I do, who doesn’t??”
Sunghoon shrugs, not bothering to move away more, outside chilly air still clinging to his body. “A lot of people don’t like horror films. Which ones your favorite?”
“Uhm..” he’s looking at you apprehensively, waiting to judge your answer. “Nothing tops the original.”
He nods, bottom lip jutting forward seemingly pleased. “Reviews have said this ones really good, I mean.. how many times can they reinvent a new ghost face killer?”
He steps back a bit, as if ready to turn around and drop the conversation, slowly turning to the side cocking an eyebrow at you. “Say.. what’s your favorite scary movie?”
“Like, of all time?” Twisting your legs together nervously you grip at the counter ledge behind you, he hums and nods for you to continue. “Uhm, I guess it’d have to be the original Halloween.” You shrug, noting his surprise. “..but as far as more recent goes, Midsommar is a masterpiece.”
Sunghoon laughs a bit, reaching inside his pocket to pull out a ghost face mask, finger gliding over the white plastic to avoid your gaze. “I preferred Hereditary personally but..”
Taking a step back he continues to nod. “Good choices.” He winks, leaving the kitchen with one plate of snacks in hand before you’re able to respond. The deep breath of air you let out near deflates you, rushing to the bathroom to look over yourself and check your breath before following after him.
“What’s taking so long!” Your friend calls out from the living room, startling you again as you scramble to fill a bowl with popcorn.
“One second!” Rushing out with a bowl and drinks you come to a halt seeing your best friend spread out comfortably on the smaller couch leaving you left with no choice but to sit next to Sunghoon, his hooded gaze slowly lifts up, tucking his lips in to hide a smile.
“Uhm..”
“You don’t mind right? Need to stretch my legs so badly.” She pouts, blinking innocently and wiggling her feet under a blanket.
“Oh yeah..” gulping, you lower down to sit by her brother, clearing your throat as you settle back and attempt to get comfortable.
He’s changed out of his work clothes, white t-shirt baggy on his chest but fitted on his thick biceps, gray sweats draw your attention lower; fast to avert your gaze away when you catch a glimpse of an outline lifting the material up between his thighs.
“Press play.” Your friend mumbles, phone in hand immersed with her daily lurking, having to go through all of her boyfriend's socials to make sure he’s only up to good.
Sunghoon leans back further, easing into a more comfortable position with one arm resting on the couch behind you. The room is mostly dark aside from the TV light, illuminating his side profile and milky skin tone all the more, biting down on his lower lip as the movie begins, drawing you back to reality, realizing you’ve been staring for too long.
Eyes shift your way curiously, nodding to acknowledge you. “You a screamer?” He whispers, just enough for you to hear.
“What?” Surprised by his question, you pull up your legs onto the couch, Sunghoon using the chance to scoot closer to you and speak into your ear.
“You scream when you’re scared?” He asks, a heavy husky tone shooting chills down your spine, eyes rolling off to the side.
“Uh, no, I don’t really get scared.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Huh?” He straightens out, gaze fixated back on the TV ignoring your confusion. The first scene plays out, a blond woman on her phone staring down an alleyway.
“Ah, don’t go in there.” He smiles by your side, speaking softly only to you. “Has she never seen the Stab films?”
Half distracted by his commentary, you jump a bit as the volume rises and the actress on screen proceeds to get stabbed repeatedly by ghost face, shocking you enough to turn your face away and inadvertently hide in Sunghoon’s shoulder. He bounces under you, chuckling and leaning in closer to wrap an arm around your back. “What happened to not really getting scared?”
“Caught me off guard..”
“You have nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, pressing close enough to your ear for his lips to brush against your lobe. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.”
Sunghoon stays close to you throughout the duration of the film, adding little snarky remarks every time another character falls victim to the killer's plan. “Amateurs, you’d think this entire franchise wasn’t built around the premise of the scary movie cliches.”
Half focused on the movie, you adjust to rest more of your weight against his side, forehead nuzzling into the column of his throat, occasionally squealing and playing into a more helpless damsel in distress to earn extra squeezes around your arm.
“What would you do if I wasn’t here to keep you safe huh?” He chides, peering toward his sister half asleep on the other couch. “Probably scream until your lungs burst.”
“I’m not a screamer..” you whisper, tilting your head to keep your chin held up on his broad shoulder. “Unless you want me to be.”
“Oh yeah?” He asks coyly, movie forgotten as he dips in to whisper near your mouth. “Want me to make you scream? You wanna play psycho killer with me?” The hidden connotation behind his words has your thighs shifting together, aching between with anticipation.
“Are you the killer?” You question, shifting to whisper into his ear. “Please don’t kill me, I wanna be in the sequel.”
Sunghoon leans into your ear, eyes skirting across to make sure his sister still hasn’t moved. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”
He gets up quickly, glancing at you over his shoulder in a way that implies more without saying anything. After waiting for a few minutes and sitting uncomfortably, squirming in place to appease the wet heat between your thighs; you move ever so gingerly as to not make a sound. The TV volume assists in masking your footsteps leading out into the hallway in search of the bathroom.
“Hoon?” You call out quietly, cursing under your breath at how dark it is, only a bit of moonlight breaking through from the small window at the end of the hall. The bathroom doors half open where you stop to peak inside. Creaking sounds with every step you take, reaching for the door handle to push it fully open. “Who’s there? Sungho—“
Large palms engulf your throat and mouth before you can scream, clasped across your face, a raspy breathy voice cooing against your ear to hush. “Don’t scream, it’s me.”
Without loosening his hold, he knocks against the backs of your knees to press you up against the nearest wall, sharp canines finding the shell of your ear to nibble at. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll wake her up.”
Releasing your neck, his thick fingers smooth down your chest, squeezing one of your breasts along the way, cleaned up nails trailing down to the front of your shorts. “Rule number 1- you should never ask ‘who’s there?’. Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a deathwish.”
The lines familiar, said in a low toe curling tone meant to instill fear in you. Shoving past the elastic waistband keeping your shorts held up, he cups over your core, a rumbling pleased sound escaping his throat. “Were you planning this? Readying yourself to fuck your best friend’s brother?”
He smacks against your bare cunt, fingers sweeping between your folds as you jerk forward, groaning beneath his hand, jagged edges of his fingernails digging into your cheek.
“I asked you something.” Pointed eye-teeth scrape along your jugular, licking at the small indentations left behind.
“Yes..”
Sunghoon chuckles darkly on your skin, his nose scrunching up against your cheek as fingers work to spread your arousal around, smearing the mess of wetness around your middle. “What a slut.”
“N-no!”
“Shh shh, not too loud now, don’t wanna ruin our fun.” Plump pink lips litter up and down your throat, his free hand lifting up to grip your chin and force your neck to twist more. “Wanna get fucked so bad don’t you?”
Dim lighting streaks across his heated hooded gaze, nodding your head for you as he dips lower to circle your entrance. Sunghoon’s touch isn’t gentle in the least, instantly slapping your cunt in rapid succession forcing your knees to lock together with a pained yelp, the sound of your wetness splashing against the collision adding more heat in your chest. Whimpering down embarrassed little moans the more he continues to land against your core, wet arousal even reaching far enough to make a mess of the wall your lower half arches against.
“Hoon.. f-fuck.”
“I said shut the fuck up.” He grits, other hand clasping over your mouth before you’re able to let out a shocked fear filled sound. Sunghoon pinches your clit between two digits, panting against your ear as he continues to babble nonsense. “Such a helpless victim, just begging to get caught. You like this, huh? A little fear, getting snatched up and fucked until you cry, groveling for mercy. Will you beg for it?”
He emphasizes by rolling against your bare backside, pajama shorts dropping down to your ankles leaving you exposed to be used and taken advantage of, the idea of Sunghoon hiding in dark corners waiting for you to pass by with a head full of air, drag you by your limbs into a closet and ruin you sets your stomach on fire. Jerking back and forth, you work against his fingers pinching and rolling your clit deliciously, each press of calloused finger pads nudging against a different bundle of nerves. The sensations shooting down to your toes lifting off the floor causing you to squirm back into his hardened length even more.
“What a nasty little whore,” he growls, restricting your head to the side with an unrelenting hold on your mouth, teeth finding a lifted pulsating vein easily due to your excitement. “What would my sister say? Knowing what a slut her best friend is, always hanging out here batting your big puppy eyes at me. Squishing your tits together like I won’t notice.”
Sunghoon laughs against your throat, fingers gliding down between your labia folds to circle your entrance. The amount of wetness pouring out slipping his digits through a mess dribbling down your inner thighs. “Fuck, so wet for me, you want this so bad don’t you? Always coming out to the garage to bother me, bending over the hood of my car asking stupid questions just to show off your fat little ass. Been dreaming about this haven’t you?”
Each filthy incriminating thing he says has your eyes rolling back, neck arched into an awkward stretch the more he keeps you held in place to lick and suck at hot bits of flesh lining your throat, leaving marks behind with every sink of his teeth. The sharp points burn as they bury in hard enough to create indentations, hissing behind the suffocating palm keeping your screams trapped.
Twisting your neck again, his palm falls to your neck tightening around as his lips hungrily devour your parted open pout, tonguing his way in easily. Each gasp you struggle to get out swallowed down by his domineering lips easily taking full control of the kiss with more of a choking squeeze around your neck. “Keep your pretty mouth open for me.”
Two fingers tease at your hole as he presses the back of your head to his shoulder more, the position leaving you vulnerable at his will, mouth dropped open gazing up at him with glossy eyes. Sunghoon’s lips purse together over yours, tongue swishing around collecting a wad of saliva, the first glimpse of shiny clear spit exiting his lips has you choking for air even more. Already struggling to breathe as he slowly spills drool onto your tongue, fingers pushing past the resistance of your tight hole as his spit collects at the back of your throat with yours urging you to gurgle and cough for air.
“Fucking disgusting, such a pretty little thing, nasty cock whore.” He grunts, biting your bottom lip roughly, teeth knocking into yours. “Swallow.”
Patting the middle of your throat, he sneers sadistically, enjoying the first batch of fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Fingers thrusting in and out of you without falter, the width of his palm colliding with your clit the more he works to stretch you out around his digits. Not that it matters much, he could care less if you cry because it hurts.
Sunghoon waits for your throat to bob under his palm, sliding out of you and blurring over your clit with more strength, muscles pronounced with each motion even in the dark. He sinks down leaving you to rest your face on the wall, using the opportune moment to compose yourself and fill your lungs. Sniffling away the tears now making their way past your chin, ending their journey down to your breasts.
“Remember what I said.” Sunghoon’s palms land heavy on your ass, a string of curses following under his breath. Long fingers knead and squeeze, pulling your cheeks apart to fully expose both of your holes. “Don’t wanna get caught..”
He dips in keeping you held open, the tip of his nose grazing between the crevice of your ass, lips dragging across your rim. “Or do you?”
The cry you let out disappears into the wall, lifting a hand to bite down on as your other supports you from melting down to your knees. Sunghoon’s ears clog up with muddled heat, his sole focus turning to your holes winking at him enticingly, each one barely opening even as his tongue swipes between both nastily. He murmurs below you, shaking the meat of your ass against his face to further drown in your aroused scent. The warmth radiating from between your thighs dizzying him to a brainless empty-headed mess.
“Hoon..”
He swipes up and down repeatedly, wetness covering him forehead to chin the more he teases and flicks at your holes. Muffling your own moans, you twist to watch his face of pure ecstasy, half lost between your ass as he pushes in to curl his tongue through the tight ring of your rim. Everything about it sets your back rigged, from his long black eyelashes laid out on his high cheekbones, to the pleasured wrinkle that’s formed between his perfect eyebrows. Raspy groans accompany the slide of his tongue, endlessly digging his strong hands into your asscheeks, firm enough for it to sting.
Sunghoon blinks up meeting your gaze, unhinging his jaw more to swoop past the skin separating your core and rim. Tongue tickling at your slick hole without breaking his focus on your heated face. He finally laps at your entrance akin to a dehydrated animal, slurping the slop of wetness out of your hole with his lips latched around you.
“Oh fuck.” You croon, biting down harder on the inside of your fingers. Cheeks streaked with overwhelmed tears by now, shoving your butt back against his nose to ride each clean sweep of his tongue collecting your wet desire.
Sunghoon shoves in, the thick wet of his tongue combining with the slick coating your walls adding an extra slip for him to push all the way in; out of breath the more you rock down burying his nose into your rim. All of it downright disgusting. The thought of being too loud and getting caught has you rolling down faster, fucking his tongue in and out of your hole in chase of relief.
Seeming to catch on, he slaps your hips, gripping mounds of meat roughly to jiggle and urge you to set your weight down on his face. Skin gone near completely red, Sunghoon gazes up at you with blazed out eyes, a vein rippling down the center of his forehead the more he struggles to breathe. All of it sends you over the edge right as his biceps wrap around your thighs and he pulls away to spit at your hole. The sick trickle of it has you jerking, eyes rolling up and slapping the wall as a flash of blank minded heat washes down from your skull to your toes.
Sunghoon gasps under the drench of arousal spouting from your cunt, pinching nerves throbbing at the sides of his forehead quickly relieved to receive oxygen again. The thought of dying between your thighs with a happy smile on his face amusing him.
Moving back up to stand, he loops your waist with one arm, using the other to free his engorged girth from the confines of his boxers, shoving them down past his balls with the waistband of his sweats.
Sunghoon’s fast to stroke himself, pinching at the head of his length to calm his need to cum already; the tight suction of your cunt around his tongue had him ready to soil himself, cock jumping between his thighs with each trickle of your wetness gliding down his throat. He squeezes at the base for a minute or two, smacking the meat of his length down on just below the dip where your lower back meets your ass. “Want it?”
The sound of his cock slapping heavily on you has your already quivering thighs crashing together, ready to lose your balance on your weak ankles if not for his muscular grip around your torso.
“H-hoon please,” you try to whine louder than you should, gagging as his hand returns to circle your throat again. Sunghoon uses more power to drag your neck back, forcing your ass to jut out more leaving your thighs parted and easy to access.
“Too fucking loud.” He grits, kissing the sweat off your forehead, cock grazing between your thighs. “Where do you need it?”
“I-inside…inside me, please, Hoon please..”
A growl rumbles off his sturdy chest, licking down your cheek to bite at your jawline, Sunghoon releases your throat only to cover your mouth again. The scream that rips from your chest goes mute under his grasp, thrusting forward with one meticulous thrust until the entirety of his girth manages to stretch past your convulsing heat. “Fuck.” He growls, the bite he holds on your jaw chattering, having to shake away his own need to shout. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Shutting his eyes, he sighs, hand staying clamped to your lips tightly as he savors your walls gripped around him. The heat of your cunt wrapping him in a dripping wet cocoon of raging heat, each contraction around him drawing the veins lining his size to throb painfully. “So..”
Sunghoon grunts, nipping at your chin, hips pulling back a few inches just to fuck back into you. “Fucking..”
He pants, repeating the movement, pistoning into your backside with a sudden urgency. “Good..”
Already feeling too close to release he’s merciless from the start, fucking into you fast, bouncing your weight against him hard enough to have you jumping up on your toes similarly to a rag doll being tossed around. Sunghoon groans, tucking his bottom lip in a fierce bite to control the volume of his grunts. Cock slamming in rapidly, each virgous snap of his hips more rough than the last.
“You fucking like that?” He rasps, fully pressing your front to the wall to keep you held up. Grinding against the perky top of your ass folding over onto your lower back. The lewd visual of your body altering due to the aggressive nature he fucks you in only seizes his balls up, heavy as they meet your clit with each clap of his pelvic bone digging into your backside.
Sunghoon doesn’t wait for your answer, knows the pathetic screams lost beneath his hand are enough. The thick creamy gloss coating his length with every draw back more than enough to know how much you love it. The deep arch you stay in, the way your pussy sucks him in more and more with each thrust.
“Fuck, good.” He mutters, hissing between his teeth, his free hand grappling your arms behind your back to handcuff your wrists together. The new position allowing him more control to fuck you like nothing but a whore, just a dirty cockslut desperate to take dick and catch a fat nut.
“Cum for me one more time.” He says between gritted teeth, sloppily nipping your earlobe between rapid skin-clapping thrusts. “Fucking cum.”
Sunghoon’s throat cracks to not scream, his vocal cords raw from trying to suppress his own need to cry out, face dropping to your shoulder to bite into any exposed flesh as you writhe against him, pussy sucked around his length to an almost painful point. The wetness fucked out of you with each jerky last thrust he gives drenching his balls, smearing between his thighs in such a disgusting vile way.
He can’t help but to fully bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A bitter metallic taste mixes with his saliva as he pumps you full of release, his hand only going lax on your mouth the more he empties inside of you and falls weak. Orgasm fully absorbing his strength for a moment as he licks at the accidentally inflicted wound struggling to regain his barings.
The whiny whimper you let out has his eyes fluttering open, nodding against your nape before taking a deep breath and slowly freeing himself from your warmth.
“Shh,” Sunghoon’s lips drag against the side of your face panting to catch his breath. Squatting down he picks up your bottoms and tugs them back up over your hips. Turning you around to face him, he cleans up the tear tracks left behind on your cheeks, leaving two soft kisses on each. “You good?”
He smiles, keeping you held up straight with a hold around your waist. “I’m good..”
Sunghoon laughs under his breath, leading you down the hall toward the living room. “You’re kind of..” he pauses, peeking into the room at his sister still sound asleep, the movie credits now rolling.
“Kind of what?”
“A freak...” He grins, patting your butt, eyebrows directing you back to the couch. “Like me.”
word count: 1.3K this is my first time writing any ff so it might be bad T-T warnings: smut, mdni!! established relationship, fem! reader, oral (f receiving), no protection, one shot, not proofread, p in v, creampie
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Park Sunghoon is fucking feral.
The second he emerges from your shower and sees you sprawled across your lace pink bedsheets, his entire body goes rigid. A strangled noise escapes his throat as his cock hardens instantly, straining painfully against the thin white towel that clings to his hips. Fucking hell.
You shift, completely oblivious to his torment, your worthless excuse of a tank top riding up to reveal the soft curve of your waist. Those shorts might as well not exist—the full swell of your ass practically spilling out, making his cock pulse so hard he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning.
You look up at the sound of his shaking breath. “Hoonie– ? You done?”
He’s getting harder by the minute.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before snapping them back open. Sunghoon is a sane man. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide his obvious tent.
Your gaze drops, catching exactly what he's failed to hide. Heat floods your cheeks. " Hoonie...!" He watches, mesmerized, as you turn on the bed, trading one torture for another—your top hanging so low he can see the swell of your breasts. Christ.
“Y/N…” Sunghoon kneels down on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I’m just…fuck…you drive me insane.”
But you’re already pressing your thighs together, trying to pretend seeing the mere silhouette of his cock isn’t causing heat to pool in your stomach—even lower. You squirm slightly.
“Y/N– fuck, don’t do that.” He grips himself through the towel mindlessly, his knuckles white.“Hoon…” You whine softly, your own hand slipping down between your thighs. "Let me help you." He stares at you, wild-eyed, before a guttural sound tears from his throat. Sunghoon's control shatters completely. "Say. That. Again." Each word punctuated by his hand working furiously, a deep moan ripping from his chest.
"Need to help you...need to fuck you...need you inside me..." You whine. Sunghoon snaps his head to you, his eyes half-lidded and desperate before he breaks, like a wild predator claiming prey, lurching forward to kiss you. His hand engulfs your face—Christ, you' re so fucking small beneath him. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to make you cry out, your hips bucking desperately against nothing, your underwear soaked through. The kiss is hungry, animalistic even.
He yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, tossing them across the room. His hands are hot and slightly trembling as they run over the skin of your thighs, nails digging in just enough for you to gasp. He grinds into you, the towel barely hanging on, his cock rubbing against your drenched underwear. You arch into the friction, a needy sound tumbling from your lips. He shudders, fighting for any scrap of composure left, but instantly loses when you hook your legs around his waist and pull him in closer. The towel is a barrier both maddening and useless; with a guttural groan he strips it off, throwing it somewhere behind him, and the blunt, flushed head of his cock presses insistently at your core.
Sunghoon's voice is wrecked, barely more than a whisper, “Let me taste you first.” You’re nodding, already wrecked by the sensation of his hands kneading your thighs apart, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, your stomach, your inner thigh. Every inch he touches feels raw and exposed, as if he’s discovering you for the first time and memorizing the way your body shivers under his tongue. He crowds between your knees, pushing them up and wide, and settles beneath you like he’s been starved his whole life for this. His tongue is hot and desperate, licking a slick stripe through your folds before latching onto your clit with such single-minded force you whimper, half in shock, half in helpless ecstasy. His hands grip your thighs to the sheets, pinning you down as you try instinctively to twist away from the onslaught. But he doesn’t let you, growling low when you squirm, holding you open, taking everything he wants.
Sunghoon devours you like a man possessed, his head bobbing, black hair mussed and wet at the nape, his tongue fucking into you until you’re leaking and shaking. He tongues you through every shudder, relishing every tremor and gasp, sucking and lapping and slurping, his cock rutting into the mattress in rhythm with every little noise you spill for him. You start to sob his name, over and over, your hands fisting the damp hair at the crown of his head, and he basks in it. He doesn’t slow even when you cum, your thighs trembling so hard he has to clamp down harder to keep you from snapping closed. Each greedy pull from his mouth renders you more insensible, until you’re reduced to nothing but pleas and curses and prettily broken whimpers—music to his ears.
He finally pulls away when you start to twitch from the overstimulation, still aching, still desperate. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and even in your haze you feel an obscene thrill at how shamelessly ruined he looks, chin glossy and lips pink and swollen.
He crawls over you again, caging you in, eyes blown wide. “Can I?” he asks, breathless, voice breaking. It’s fucked how, even now, he’s still asking. You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, nodding so fast you can barely even shape a word. "Please," you manage, and for a moment all softness returns to his face. He kisses you like an apology, like a promise, and lines himself up. He's big—thick and flushed and so, so hard—but he's gentle when he pushes in, holding himself back, letting you adjust.
The stretch is overwhelming, but you want it—want him—so much it borders on ache. You claw at his arms, his back, leaving little half-moon marks in your wake. He presses in, inch by inch, groaning through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense with restraint.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he chokes, forehead pressed against yours, sweat already beading at his temple. His hips start to move, slow and shallow at first, but soon the rhythm builds. The room is filled with the soft schlk schlk schlk of his cock thrusting in and out of you and the sinful sounds of your synchronized moaning. You open your eyes, just enough to look at his beautiful face as he fucks into you. You wish you didn’t at all because you have to bite back a moan from how ungodly he looks—his eyebrows furrowed and the moles on his face scrunched from his expression.
“G-gonna cum, pretty girl.” He curses under his breath, his hips stuttering as he loses his rhythm, now pistoning in and out of you erratically.
“H-hoonie…! I-I’m gonna— !”
The second he feels your walls pulsing around him, he moans. He knows he's fucked.
With one last thrust, he cums, burrowing his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent. He shudders as he empties himself inside you, shooting his lovemilk into you, then he finally collapses — completely spent. For a while, you just lie together, panting and sticky and so, so alive, the only sound in your bedroom the raw sound of your combined breathing.
Sunghoon pulls back, his chest rising and falling softly. His eyes are filled with nothing short of adoration.
“You okay?”
You nod, and he grins, leaning in for one last kiss.
— One dart. One stranger. One night that changes everything in a town built on shadows.
The saloon smells like smoke and sweat and something burnt that’s been sitting on the stove too long.
You keep your eyes on your plate.
It’s not much—beans, bread gone a little stale—but it’s warm, and warm things matter when the desert turns cold at night. You sit at a small table near the wall, close enough to the door that you could leave fast if you needed to. You’ve learned that part quickly.
Your parents said it would only be for a while.
Just until work picked up.Just until money came through. Just until— The excuses stopped arriving weeks ago.
The saloon is loud tonight. Cards slapping against tables, boots scraping against wood, men laughing too hard like they’re trying to drown something out. You shrink in on yourself, tug your shawl closer, take smaller bites.
You don’t notice him at first.
Most people don’t—not until it’s too late.
He’s seated in the far corner, back against the wall, hat pulled low. A board is nailed into the wood beside him, crude circles carved into it. Darts stick out at sharp, deliberate angles. His throws are slow. Controlled. Each one lands exactly where he intends.
Sunghoon lifts his eyes once.
That’s all it takes.
You don’t look like you belong here. Not in the way the others do. Your clothes are worn but clean, your posture careful, like you’re trying to take up less space than you’re allowed. You eat quietly. You don’t smile at anyone. You don’t invite attention.
Which is exactly why it finds you.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
The voice comes from too close.
You stiffen.
A man leans against the empty chair at your table, breath thick with alcohol. He’s older, eyes sliding over you without shame. His friends snicker behind him.
“You all alone?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.
“I’m eating,” you say, keeping your voice even.
He chuckles. Pulls the chair back anyway. “Company makes food go down easier.”
From the corner of the room, Sunghoon’s dart sinks dead center.
Thud.
He doesn’t look away.
The man reaches for the edge of your table. “Bet a pretty thing like you could use—”
The dart whistles through the air.
It hits his cheek. Not deep enough to kill. Deep enough to hurt.
He yells, stumbling back, hand flying to his face as blood wells between his fingers. The saloon goes silent so fast it’s like someone cut a wire.
Every head turns.
The man in the corner stands.
Slowly.
He sets the remaining darts down with care, like violence isn’t something to rush. When he steps into the light, you see him clearly for the first time—clean lines, sharp jaw, eyes cold but steady. Controlled.
Dangerous in a quiet way.
He looks at the man clutching his cheek.
“Move,” he says.
One word.
No threat.
No raise in voice.
The man doesn’t argue. None of them do. Chairs scrape back as his friends pull him away, muttering apologies they don’t mean, fear plain on their faces now.
The noise comes back in pieces. Low. Careful.
Sunghoon walks toward you.
Your heart is pounding, but not from fear—not anymore. From the sudden awareness of him, the way the air seems to shift as he stops beside your table.
He doesn’t touch you. He leans in just enough that his voice doesn’t have to travel.
“Don’t look at them,” he murmurs. “Finish your food.”
It’s not a command. It’s reassurance.
You nod. Your hands are steadier than they were a moment ago.
Outside, the night is cooler. Lanterns cast soft halos across the dirt road as the saloon door swings shut behind you. Sunghoon walks half a step behind, presence solid, unhurried.
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
He hums once. “It’s not safe out this late. I’ll walk you.”
And you let him.
The streets were quieter than the saloon, but not empty. Lanterns swung gently on iron hooks, casting long, uneven shadows across the dirt road. The air smelled of dust and wood smoke, the faint hint of horses and hay drifting from the stables down the block. The kind of night that makes you acutely aware of every footstep, every rustle, every whisper of wind against a shuttered window.
You kept your hands close to yourself, bag slung over your shoulder, shawl tighter than before. Every step was measured, practiced. You didn’t look around too much, but your eyes never stopped moving—counting, noting, observing. You weren’t afraid anymore, not quite, because the presence behind you was steady, impossible to ignore.
Sunghoon walked half a step behind. Not ahead. Not looming. Not pacing you. Just… there. The sound of his boots in the dirt was steady, reliable, grounding. You found yourself falling into rhythm with him without meaning to.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a while, voice low, almost a rumble that didn’t carry too far but reached just enough.
“I’m used to it,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “Quiet streets, quiet people. Makes things easier to manage.”
He didn’t comment immediately. His gaze lingered, flicking to the edges of the buildings, the shadows, then back to you. You had the sense he was analyzing everything about the town, the path, the night itself, and yet, in a way only he could manage, it felt like he was paying more attention to you.
“I’m Sunghoon,” he said finally. Not a question. Just a statement, as if you should already know. You blinked.
“Oh,” you said, dryly, tugging your shawl a little closer. “Good to know.”
He hummed in acknowledgment, no further explanation, but his eyes softened slightly, just enough for you to notice.
A silence stretched between you. Comfortable in its way, though you weren’t quite sure if it was meant to soothe or simply mark territory—his, and now, by extension, yours.
The wind kicked up, rattling the lanterns, and you shivered. He moved a fraction closer, just enough that you could feel it, just enough that his shoulder brushed yours slightly as he adjusted the coat he’d draped over himself.
“You cold?” he asked, genuinely, soft-spoken, like he was asking a question for the first time in years.
“A little,” you admitted, because you were, and you’d let him know. It wasn’t weakness—it was… strategic. You didn’t have many options right now.
He didn’t say anything more, only shifted slightly to let some of the warmth of his coat brush against you without touching. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made a difference. You kept walking.
“You handle yourself well,” he said after a while, almost a tease, voice just low enough that only you could hear. “Considering how… vulnerable you look sometimes.”
“I’m fine,” you said, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder. “I’ve managed this long without any trouble. One night with a few drunken idiots doesn’t change that.”
His lips twitched. “One night is enough to make most people regret it,” he murmured.
You smirked faintly, shaking your head. “I’m stubborn. You should know by now.”
“Stubborn doesn’t mean safe,” he countered, but the way he said it—half-teasing, half-warned—you couldn’t help but feel it was meant for you alone.
The street stretched on. Doors remained closed, no one wandered near enough to notice. You didn’t slow down when you passed houses, though your pace was careful, practiced, instinctive. He noticed.
“You don’t… look for a door,” he observed quietly, almost a statement, his voice like a soft note against the emptiness.
You didn’t answer immediately. A small, dry smile ghosted your lips. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have one,” you said finally.
He stopped walking for a heartbeat, letting the words hang between you. The night suddenly felt heavier. Not in a bad way. Just… weighty. Real. You realized he wasn’t mad. Not at you. Not at the situation. Just… absorbing it.
“That’s not good,” he said finally, softer now, a careful edge of concern threading through the words. “That’s not right. You’re not staying out here. Not tonight.”
“I can manage,” you said quickly, stubbornly. “I’ve been managing for weeks.”
He shook his head slightly, dark hair catching the lantern light as he glanced down at you. “Not anymore,” he said simply.
Another stretch of silence, and then he stepped just a little closer—not enough to crowd, just enough for warmth and presence. You felt it, a subtle, grounding weight that didn’t ask for anything in return.
The night pressed around you, the dust and the distant calls of horses settling into a rhythm you didn’t expect. And in that rhythm, walking beside him, you realized something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel before:
You were safe. Truly safe.
For the first time since your parents left, for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t shrink. Didn’t calculate.
Sunghoon noticed too. Not that you were calm. Not that you weren’t wary. But that you weren’t slowing near houses, didn’t divert toward corners or shadows, didn’t flinch at any sound except the wind.
“You trust me,” he said finally, voice quiet, teasing lightly like a challenge.
“I’m not stupid,” you replied, letting your voice carry a little dry humor. “I’m just… out of options.”
He smirked faintly. “Big girls don’t cry,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Big dogs don’t bite.”
And though you didn’t understand fully, it wasn’t meant for explanation. It was meant for reassurance. Meant for this moment.
The walk stretched on. And even in the quiet, even under the flickering lanterns, you felt it: everything was fine. Be with me now.
The rest of the night would wait. But here, walking beside him, you finally didn’t have to.
The lanterns stretched long shadows over the dirt road, twisting them across the worn boards of the few shuttered shops you passed. Your boots crunched quietly in rhythm with his, but unlike him, your eyes never stopped moving. You counted shadows, memorized corners, traced the outlines of doors that might offer refuge—but tonight, you didn’t need to.
“You don’t talk much,” he said after a stretch of silence, voice low, measured. “I don’t see the need,” you said, letting your gaze flick to a darkened window. “Not unless someone’s asking questions they shouldn’t.”
“Smart,” he murmured. His eyes were still forward, scanning the night, but you felt the weight of his gaze lingering over you. Not in a greedy or invasive way, but like he was noting details no one else would: the way you walked, your hands curled around the bag strap, the set of your jaw. Every careful movement cataloged, every instinct trusted.
You offered a dry smirk. “You’re one to talk, mister dart king. Very observant.” His lips twitched. Just a fraction. Almost a tease. “Someone has to be.”
Another silence, but this one was softer. Comfortable in a way that made the distance between you less noticeable. You kept walking, still half a step ahead, feeling oddly… safe. Not because of words, but because of the presence behind you. It grounded you. Steady, solid, unshakable.
Finally, he spoke again, breaking the quiet like a small crack in a calm desert evening. “You didn’t tell me your name yet.”
You froze mid-step, only for a heartbeat. You hadn’t realized. All the words you wanted to say—the jokes, the explanations, even the small complaints about the saloon—faded.
“I… didn’t think it mattered,” you said finally, keeping your voice casual.
“Didn’t think it mattered,” he repeated slowly, eyes flicking to you, curious, cautious, like he was testing the truth of that statement. “Doesn’t sound like you.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small, dry laugh. “Well, maybe it doesn’t. Or maybe you just don’t ask the right questions.”
He stopped for a fraction of a second, letting the silence settle, before continuing. “It matters to me,” he said quietly.
You blinked at him. The lantern light glinted off his slicked-back hair, casting shadows across his sharp jaw. His voice was soft, but there was an edge beneath it, subtle, impossible to ignore. “Why’s that?” you asked, keeping your tone light, though your chest fluttered.
“Because,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly, “I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know who you are.”
The weight of the words wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t threatening. It was… deliberate. Protective. Silent reassurance made visible.
You felt your lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking free. “Alright, then,” you said, exhaling softly. “It’s… Y/N.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly, as if tasting the name, memorizing it. Then he nodded once, approvingly, almost imperceptibly. “Y/N,” he repeated. “I’ll remember that.”
You realized then that for the first time since your parents left you, someone in this town—not just anyone, but him—was paying attention. Truly. Not to your appearance, not to the way you moved, but to who you were.
You felt safer. Not because he promised it outright. Not because he said he would. But because in every quiet glance, every careful step behind you, every minimal word, he was already proving it.
And walking there, half in shadows, lanterns flickering over the dust-scented street, you allowed yourself a tiny, unguarded thought: maybe things were going to be alright, at least tonight.
Finally, the street opened to a small, plain boardinghouse at the far end. The sign was old, the paint peeling, but a faint warm light glowed from a single window above the door. He stopped in front of it and turned to you, slicked-back hair catching the lantern light, eyes dark and unreadable.
“This’ll do for tonight,” he said simply. No question, no hesitation.
You frowned slightly. “Are you… sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said, flat and calm, but you could hear the unspoken edge of warning beneath his words. “You’re not staying in the streets.”
He pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly, and stepped inside without waiting for your answer. The boardinghouse smelled faintly of soap and old wood, clean enough that it felt like a refuge compared to the saloon and the dusty streets.
At the counter, he didn’t hesitate. Coins clinked as he paid for the room without a word, without flinching, without bargaining. The clerk gave him a questioning look, but he ignored it, pressing the key into your palm.
“Second floor. End of the hall,” he said.
You stared down at the key, your chest tight in a strange mix of relief and disbelief. This small gesture—so simple, so practical—felt like a lifeline. For weeks, months maybe, you had been surviving. And now… someone had taken care of you without being asked.
Inside the room, the space was small but clean. A narrow bed, a washbasin, a single window that locked. You finally let yourself breathe, leaning against the door for a moment.
“I can work for you,” you blurted quickly, fear tightening your chest that he might change his mind. “Errands. Messages. Anything.”
He looked you over slowly, assessing, his eyes tracing every line of your posture, every cautious movement. “—Not that kind,” you said immediately, cheeks heating. “I mean errands. Normal things. Safe things.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips, just the barest curve that made your stomach flip.
“Shame,” he said lightly, teasing without pressure.
You gaped. “Hey—”
“I’m kidding,” he said, soft now, a chuckle barely audible.
He paused at the door, hat in hand, gaze flicking to the key in your palm, to the small bed, to the faint dust that clung to your boots. “Lock it. I’ll come by in the morning.”
And when he stepped back into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar, the weight of what just happened hit you all at once. The most dangerous man in this town—the one everyone whispered about, the one who didn’t need anyone—had just decided you were his responsibility.
You sat on the edge of the bed, key clutched in your hand, and let yourself exhale. For the first time since your parents left, since you’d been abandoned to this side of town, you felt something unfamiliar, something terrifying and wonderful all at once: safe.
And you knew, without a doubt, that things had already changed.
He lingered in the doorway for a moment, hat in hand, slicked-back hair catching the dim light from the hall. His dark eyes swept over the small room again, taking in the narrow bed, the dust clinging to the floorboards, the way you hugged the key in your hand like it was a lifeline.
“Lock it,” he said, voice low, deliberate, each word measured. “Don’t open it for anyone except me.”
You blinked, a small frown forming. “Anyone… except you?”
“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were obvious. “No one. Understood?”
“I… understood,” you said, your voice small, unsure, but you nodded anyway.
He exhaled softly, almost a sigh, and adjusted the brim of his hat before stepping back into the hallway. The door creaked softly as he closed it, leaving just enough light spilling from the hall that you could see the dust motes dancing in the air.
“I’ll be back this morning,” he added, voice quieter now, meant only for you, almost like a promise tucked into the edges of the night. “Don’t leave. Don’t answer for anyone else.”
You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the key. The sound of his boots receding down the hall echoed faintly in your ears. Each step carried weight, presence, and a subtle warning: he would know if you disobeyed.
The room felt suddenly quieter, heavier somehow, but not unpleasantly so. You sat on the edge of the bed, key clutched in your palm, and let yourself finally breathe. The warmth of the small space, the faint scent of soap and wood, the knowledge that someone—someone like him—had taken care of you, settled in your chest.
You could still feel his eyes on you even though he was gone. You could feel the protective weight of his presence lingering in the corners of the room, in the small spaces he had left behind.
And you realized something you hadn’t allowed yourself to think in weeks:
For the first time since your parents left, you were safe.
Not by chance. Not by luck. By him.
TOBIOSBBYGHORL 2025
likes, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated!
SUMMARY -> sunghoon has a thing for you the dancer, and he’s finally able to get you into bed.
WORDS -> approx. 2k
WARNINGS -> female reader x sunghoon, stripper reader, unprotected sex, strip clubs, top sunghoon, bottom reader, sunghoon has a big dick, fingering
- requested [no]
“sorry for the wait,” you say as you enter the private room. “just got off the stage. do you mind the knee pads? i can take them off.”
“nah, don’t bother.” sunghoon has had his eyes on you for a long time, but apparently, so has everyone else. he’s been trying to book a private session with you for weeks now, but by the time he’s gotten to the club, you've always been unavailable or booked in advance. so this time, sunghoon actually went ahead and called the club when they first opened to put in a reservation for you. and he got very lucky, because the only slot they had available for him was the last one of the night.
sunghoon sees why it’s so hard to get you, though. god, if you could see how you move on that stage—looking light as a feather as you work that pole. a bright light on the dark stage, illuminating the room once you walk in. always managing to be seductive despite that innocent face of yours, only adding to the allure of the ‘y/n’ character.
for all the work that it took sunghoon to get this dance, he hopes that it’ll be worth it.
he has a plan for you, but only if you are willing. most of the girls tend to be once they get a feel of what sunghoon is packing down there. hey, it’s not everyday you get a man in your club with a pornstar sized dick propositioning you.
“what are your rules?” sunghoon asks, needing to feel out the vibe.
your eyes scan down sunghoon's body, as if you're trying to get a read on him before you set your boundaries.
“you can touch,” you say, grabbing your phone and starting to play music. “no nudity on your end, but as long as you keep your underwear on, that’s fine.”
sunghoon nods, acknowledging your rules.
neither of you say anymore as you stalk over, your outfit for the night being a cute pair of black skirt, accompanied by a tight crop top, and accessorized with the straps of a white thong sitting high on your waist.
once you turn around, that’s when sunghoon pulls his pants down, wanting you to feel before you see. his heart beats in anticipation as your ass finally makes contact with his clothed cock, having waited weeks for this.
sunghoon throws his head back in pleasure as you begin to grind against his cock, your ass stroking him to the rhythm of the music. but it only takes a moment for you to halt your movement and look back at sunghoon with an amused expression on your face.
“that’s not real, is it?” you ask, angling your head back to look back at sunghoon's crotch suspiciously.
sunghoon chuckles, already having anticipated this.
“that’s all me, baby.”
you stand up, your arms crossed as you turn to face sunghoon.
“no way,” you say accusingly. “i’ve had guys come in here with dildos in their pants before—it’s okay, just admit it.”
sunghoon holds his hands up in surrender. “it’s all natural, babe. you can check it out if you want.”
you stare at him, your eyes analytical, like you're trying to see through sunghoon's clothing. which obviously ends up to no avail.
“let me see,” you demand. “let me see that it’s real.”
now it’s time for sunghoon to flip it on you.
“what’s got you so interested in it?” sunghoon asks, palming himself. you begin to blush.
“i’ll just continue the dance.” you're about to turn around again, but sunghoon stops you.
“i’ll let you see.” sunghoon pulls his boxers down, letting his bare cock out.
your jaw drops.
“all real,” sunghoon says, sitting back, watching you for your next move.
“you’re not gonna put it away now?” despite the question, you still turn around again, lowering yourself onto sunghoon's thigh and taking a seat.
“i’ll put it away if you ask.”
you wrap your hand around sunghoon's cock, and your fingers are barely able to meet around it.
“you need to label this thing a weapon,” you say, stroking it softly.
“it never hurts,” sunghoon answers, eyes scanning your body. “not if you prep right.”
you remove your hand from sunghoon's cock, bringing it over to the waistband of your own skirt.
“an eye for an eye?” you ask, standing up and removing the garment, leaving you in your shirt and white thong.
“this works.” sunghoon's hands cup your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and revealing the thin, white, fabric lining the crack. “but isn’t this the normal protocol for a dance?”
he starts to rub his cock in between your ass cheeks, precum already beginning to drip out of his slit.
“so shouldn’t i get a bit more?” sunghoon asks.
you moan softly, before turning your head back to look at him.
“i guess so.”
your hands begin to play with the straps of the thong, before you begin to pull them down completely. sunghoon chuckles in satisfaction, admiring your pretty and pink hole.
“what?” you chuckles.
“this.” sunghoon pokes his finger at it, but you smack his hand away softly.
“i’m not a prostitute.” you sit down on his lap. “you can’t fuck me here.”
sunghoon rests his hands on your waist, squeezing you a bit as he rests his head on your shoulder.
“how about you let me take you home after this, then?”
you stand up, picking up your discarded skirt and putting it back on.
“let’s do that,” you agree. you straddle his lap, draping your arms around sunghoon's shoulders as you start to move your ass against his cock. “do you have a name, sir?”
“sunghoon.” his arms wrap around your waist again, being drawn to your soft skin.
“do you go around seducing strippers often, mr. sunghoon?” you shoot him a soft smile, which renders sunghoon unable to hold back his own.
“only the prettiest ones.” and you are one of the prettiest that he’s seen.
“mmm,” you purr. “flattering.”
“i’m not trying to flatter you, i’m just telling the truth.”
you go to speak again, but then the timer rings, signaling the end of your session. you hop off of his lap and grab your phone, before running back over to sunghoon.
“give me your address,” you say. “i’ll meet you there.”
the sense of satisfaction that sunghoon feels once he finally gets you in his bed is unimaginable. usually he ends up fucking strippers in the private room, or even his car, but this is the first time that they’ve made it home.
“it’s okay, baby.” sunghoon runs his fingers through your hair. “you don’t have to take it all.”
he has about half of his cock stuffed in your mouth, and that’s more than most can take.
“you’re doing a good job. such a pretty little thing.” you look up at him as you bob your head back and forth. sunghoon moans, the wet heat of your mouth pulling him right to the edge. it’s clear that you want more—want to take more of sunghoon—but he won’t let you wear yourself out.
right before sunghoon feels like he’s about to cum, he grabs your chin and pulls you off of his cock.
“let’s get you prepped,” sunghoon says. “hands and knees.”
you follow his instructions, positioning yourself just like sunghoon said that you should.
“this is the first time i’ve gone this far with a client,” you comment. sunghoon wonders if that was meant to boost his confidence, because it definitely did.
“really?” sunghoon asks coyly as he pulls your skirt down. “what makes me so different?”
“because men with big dicks get whatever they want.”
“fuck,” sunghoon curses, a sly smile pulling on his face. “this is why i love strippers. you guys always have a way with words.”
your body shakes as you chuckle, you were now also wiggling your ass for sunghoon, as if you're trying to tempt him.
well shit, it’s working.
sunghoon spreads your cheeks apart, smiling as he gets another view of your pretty, pink cunt.
he immediately presses a finger to your hole, watching as it swallows up his finger like it’s nothing.
“hm,” sunghoon hums, starting to work his finger in and out of you. “look at how easy you’re taking me, think i can fit another?”
“maybe you could fit two.”
while sunghoon doesn’t want to hurt you, he’d expect you to know your own body’s limits. he immediately slips in another.
“another one,” you sings, seemingly unphased.
damn, you are wild.
sunghoon squeezes a third finger in, and this finally seems to be enough to satisfy you, a moan coming falling from your mouth.
“it took three fingers to satisfy you?” sunghoon taunts. “sounds like we’ve got a slut on our hands.”
you chuckle, turning back and smiling at sunghoon.
“most people figure that out way earlier on. i’m a stripper, anyways.”
sunghoon smirks, curving his fingers all around your insides, trying to find that sweet spot.
“sunghoon-ah!” your voice fills the room.
“you like that, hm?” sunghoon taunts, continuing to press his fingers into your hole.
“of course i do,” you moan. “but i’ll like your cock even better.”
sunghoon can’t argue with that, because most people would. so he removes his fingers from you and whips his cock out, stroking himself to spread his precum throughout.
“are you just planning to jerk off?” you complain.
“if you want to be in any condition to work tomorrow, i have to,” sunghoon responds, lining the head of his cock up to your cunt.
you open your mouth to speak, but sunghoon begins to slide in as you do so, taking the words right out of your mouth and replacing them with a loud moan.
“that’s what i thought,” sunghoon teases as he grabs your waist, holding you steady as he begins to thrust in and out. you writhe under him, grabbing at the sheets as if they can provide you some sort of stability as sunghoon's begins to wreck you.
he watches, satisfaction painted on his face as your hole swallows his cock right up. he doesn’t know why he had his doubts about you. a small frame doesn’t mean anything when the person is a pro.
and you seem to be one.
“does it hurt?” sunghoon asks.
“no,” you manage to choke out between your high pitched whines and moans. “it’s so good. so full.”
that's good. sunghoon never aims to hurt—only to please.
“think you can cum just like this?” sunghoon asks, speeding up his strokes. “without me touching you?”
“you can try.” your arms give out, leaving your upper body limp on the bed, and sunghoon's not surprised—you had been swinging on a pole all night, your arms must be tired out.
he usually doesn’t do missionary with hookups, but you look like you could use some love right now.
he stops for a moment, getting you to flip over onto your back and wrap your legs around his waist.
“you have such a pretty face,” sunghoon comments as he lines himself back up with your hole.
“so do you.” you then drop your head onto sunghoon's shoulder, breathing heavily as he pushes in again. “that’s why i was surprised to feel all of that down there. pretty boys usually don’t have junk like that.”
sunghoon hugs you to his body, keeping your bodies close together as he begins to fuck you again.
missionary is very intimate to sunghoon, which is why he doesn’t do it with hookups. there’s something almost romantic to him about the way that he’s holding you close—you being skin to skin as your cunt envelopes him. how you moan into his shoulder—how your teeth graze sunghoon's skin, like you're seconds from biting down and leaving a mark there.
“right there,” you groan. “please, sunghoon.”
so he makes sure to be precise, letting his thrusts hit right where you identified as your sweet spot.
“i’m gonna cum.” you bite down on sunghoon's shoulder as you reach your high, cum spurting out from your cunt and coating both of your stomachs.
this motives sunghoon to chase his own high, increasing the speed of his thrusts, desperation flowing heavily through his veins.
and once he releases inside of you, he rolls over, leaving both of you lying on your sides.
“my name is y/n, by the way,” you whisper. “please don’t fuck and dump me, come and see me again.”
sunghoon chuckles, running his fingers through your hair.
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when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere you're lucky enough to be saved by a hot guy in a truck
pairing: sunghoon x fem reader
genre: fluff, humour, smut MDNI
wc: 1.9 k
warnings: swearing, oral sex (f receiving), implied second round, jokes about herpes and death, reader is a bit clumsy and awkward, there might be grammar errors
notes: I can only write like this when it's sunghoon
Ugghh! You feel so stupid, standing there on the side of the road, sun beaming and not a single helping hand in sight.
Stupid car! Stupid heat! Stupid everything!
You already hated driving long distances and now your worst fear had come - car breaking down in the middle of nowhere.
Calling someone isn't on the radar either, you already tried getting your phone to work but there's no signal at all this far out. There's just one thing to do - wait for help to miraculously arrive.
You sit at the side of your car, getting some shade while also having the road in sight.
Two bottles of water, one soda can and a pack of peanuts. How long can one survive on that? Probably a while even though it won't help your already instable mood.
The actual problem is probably not the lack of food though. The cold of night will kill you quicker. Wow, happy thoughts!
You mindlessly start throwing small rocks as the midday sun burns the asphalt. You're just getting up to get some water from the backseat when you hear it - a car!
Far away in the distance something shiny is nearing, rumbling from the engine getting stronger and stronger.
You quickly stand up, squint to get a better view and start waving your hands in the air. Screw dignity, you think to yourself, jumping up and down to make sure the driver doesn't miss you.
When the car is close enough you start yelling too, making strange hollering noises and waving like your life depends on it.
Thankfully the car stops. It's a truck, pretty old but well taken care of. Oh god you hope the person driving isn't a crazy person, or a drunk, or an axe murderer.
The car door opens and you hold your breath. You squint again - bad eyesight is a girl's best friend - and take him in. Cause it's a him, but not a middle age man like you assumed, it's the most beautiful twenty something man you've ever seen.
"Car problem?" he asks, slamming his own door shut.
-
So here you are now, nervously pacing back and forth as an absolute angel tries to understand why your car won't start.
"It just stopped you said?" the man, apparently called Sunghoon, asks.
"Yes! Out of nowhere! There were a few like, gurgling sounds before like, guAAAgugug" you decide to imitate your car cause hell, why not, and Sunghoon looks at you with raised eyebrows.
"A gurgling you say?"
You nod and utter a quiet "yep" as you question your choice of making weird car noises in front of the probably sexiest person on earth.
Sunghoon smiles a bit teasingly and then goes back to screwing and unscrewing or whatever it is his doing, you don't understand cars, or men.
"If I can't fix it I'll give you a ride, so don't worry too much" he says, not looking up.
"Oh I'm sure you'll find the problem, you seem to be good with your hands"
The calm of the deserted road turns into a very pressing quiet as you realise what you just said.
"Uuhh, I mean, I ummm..."
Sunghoon puts down his wrench and looks up at you with a very amused smirk playing on his lips.
"Don't worry babe, I've heard that before."
Your face turns as hot as the sun as he winks and then goes back to tinkering with the car.
-
Time moves by, the sun keeps on burning and Sunghoon keeps his head in the shade of the hood of your car.
"Uh, hey? You want a soda?" you ask carefully, bored out of your mind.
He looks up at you, eyes staying on you for a few heartbeats longer than necessary before he answers: "Yeah, let's take a break."
You sit down on the shady side of the car once more and Sunghoon sits down beside you. You hand him the can without a word.
"You only have one?"
You look at him confused. "Do you think this is a fucking seven eleven?"
Sunghoon's eyes widen and he let's out a laugh, shaking his head lightly.
"No babe I didn't, I just thought you might want some too..?"
"..Oh." your face goes red again. Of course that's what he meant. You just can't seem to not embarrass yourself today.
"We should share, we both needs some liquid in this heat" Sunghoon says, smoothly opening the can with one hand. He really is good with his hands.
"Yeah I suppose, If you don't have like, a dangerous cold or something, herpes, I don't know..."
Your rambling goes more quiet as you try to stop yourself cause what the fuck are you actually on about, but Sunghoon just smiles as he takes a first sip of the soda.
"That's funny" he says.
"What is?" you answer.
"You see, I was under the impression you wouldn't mind swapping some spit."
What.
What what what.
You should just become one with the sun at this point cause you are probably roughly the same temperature. You stay quiet but Sunghoon passes the can and keeps on talking.
"Honestly when I stopped here I thought your car not working was a distraction, that you were there to seduce me and then all your big, ugly criminal friends would jump out from behind a rock a rob me.
"What?" you stare at him. Maybe you're not the only one experiencing some sort of a heat stroke.
"Hey don't worry babe, I'm not gonna jump you, I just think you're pretty that's all."
He takes back the soda can and takes another sip, while you feel you feel yourself melting into the asphalt.
"Should we get back to work?" Sunghoon turns to you and you take a deep breath, shaking your head at his question.
He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed but with an intrigued look: "We shouldn't get back to work?"
You turn to him, determined.
"No."
Pushing yourself up you get closer, knees on the hot, rough road as you lean in and place a soft kiss on this mouth. He answers it.
Sunghoon's hand finds your jaw and he brushes it softly with his thumb before breaking the kiss.
You stare at him for two seconds before panic hits you.
"Shit. Shit maybe you didn't want that! I'm so sorry I just, you said I was pretty and I - oh my god that didn't mean you consented to a kiss I'm so sorry-"
Sunghoon just stares at you, satisfied smile plastered on his face. He completely ignores your apologies and instead takes your hand, drags you up into the sun and leads you to his car.
"What are you doing?" you ask in a slightly more panicky tone than you would have wished for.
"Personally-" he starts, opening the car door to the truck's backseat. "I like to think of myself as a bit more of a gentleman than your regular hillbilly." He signals for you to get in, and you do.
"So-" he continues. "I prefer to not have sex on a dirty, scorching asphalt road, no matter how hot the girl is."
The both of you are now inside of the car, your back touching the opposite car door and your shoes kicked of. Sunghoon leans in so that your noses touch. "If you want to have sex, that is?" he adds, millimetres from from your face.
"Yes" you answer, sounding so desperate it's embarrassing.
"That makes me very happy to hear." is the last words you hear before your brain kind of shuts off.
Sunghoon's mouth is on yours while his hands are seemingly everywhere. Your already sweaty clothes feel drenched and soon your t-shirt and jeans are gone.
The road outside the car window is completely forgotten as Sunghoon leaves kisses all over your upper body.
"Fuck" he breaths into your neck. "I'd love to show you what my hands can so, but they're so fucking dirty from working on your car."
He kisses down your chest and stomach, stopping when his lips touches the cotton of your underwear.
"Hey?"
You whine as Sunghoon tries to get your attention. He looks up at you and you manage to meet his gaze.
"Mind if I use my mouth instead?"
You feel like you're going crazy. It's so warm and you're a mess from all of the touching. And now he asks that. Holy shit.
"No I- if you want to, I don't mind"
He smiles a devilish grin and wets his lips.
"Oh honey, I want to."
The following minutes are heaving, even though your actual surroundings are hotter than hell.
Sunghoon's mouth works wonders as his hands knead your thighs. His tounge laps and licks like a starved animal and you feel his fingers dig into the flesh of your upper legs.
"Holy...God" you whisper as the sun finds its way through the car window and shines on Sunghoon's black hair, making it glow like a halo.
"This is so nice..." you hear him mumble against you, his warm breath sending shivers through your whole body.
He finds this nice. He finds this nice!
"I'm- oh my god, I'm gonna-"
You have to shut your eyes cause holy shit, if he finds it nice you find it heavenly.
"Mm-h baby, you can do it."
Yes you can. You feel a flood of pleasure start at your stomach and move all the way down to your feet as Sunghoon focuses his touches to where you need him most. Your legs shake but he holds them down, kissing the inside of your thighs.
"Sunghoon, I need...I need your..."
He moves up from in between your legs and starts kissing your neck, then your earlobe.
"My what baby?" he whispers teasingly.
"Your...you know-"
"Sunghoon laughs into your ear and then captures your lips in a hungry kiss. It's all consuming, how his lips work in perfect rhythm with his hands.
"You mean my dick?" he asks against your lips.
You nod and he takes one of your hands, leading it to where his jeans are tighter than usual. You flush at how straightforward he is, but he just smiles again and moves your hand.
"So fucking cute" he mumbles and starts to look around for your discarded shirt. You at him confused when he hands it back to you.
"You don't want to?" you ask, a bit hesitant, as he helps you put your jeans back on.
"Of course I want to, but let's save something for when we get home, yeah?"
You go quiet for a while. "Home?"
He shakes his head like he can't believe you're this gullible, but he does it in a sort of endearing way.
"Let's be honest, I realised like an hour ago that your car wasn't fixable, at least not with my knowledge. I just wanted to spend some more time with you."
"Hey!" You open your mouth in shock, pushing him away from you, but completely failing to seem genuine. "What if I needed to be somewhere?"
"Yeah, yeah, what if." Sunghoon mocks you and takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down softly before kissing you again. "Let's get somewhere with signal so we can call a towing company, and then we need to visit a gas station."
"Why a gas station?" you ask softly as Sunghoon opens the car door so you can move to the front. He sits down behind the wheel and turns on the ignition before turning to you with a smirk.
"Because I need to buy more condoms."
If you enjoyed my writing please consider leaving a like, reblog or comment! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ) This is what motivates me to continue doing this!
"I want you to look at me babe, I wanna see your pretty face when I fuck you."
Part 1
pairing: sunghoon × fem reader
genre: fluff, slight bit of humour, smut MDNI
wc: 1.8k
warnings: swearing, pet names, making out, penetrative sex, protection used (yay that's sexy!!), reader is a bit awkward
notes: I had such a hard time writing the actual sex in this idk I just struggled and struggled! I really tried to keep the comedy that part 1 had but it kind of disappeared half way through. I think you can notice that I've read every single Ali Hazelwood book ever last year...
Ever since Sunghoon started his truck after rescuing you from death by sunstroke and insufficient diet (water and peanuts) and started driving back towards civilisation, you've been quiet.
It's not that you don't want to talk, but how does one chit chat after being eaten out by the the most beautiful man on planet earth? In a car? By the road?
You've always hated this: the time in between making out and getting back to someone's place. The time when you suddenly become aware of your messy hair and if you perhaps made weird noises.
"Have you changed your mind, princess?"
You snap back to reality when Sunghoon puts his hand on your thigh and squeezes lightly to get your attention.
"Oh...no." you answer, not very confidently.
He rubs his thumb over your thigh a few times before putting it back on the steering wheel.
"Okay"
Oh for fuck's sake why can't you hold conversations like a normal human being? You have not changed your mind! You literally would let Sunghoon do anything to you: run you over with his truck, lock you up in his basement, rip your clothes of your body (please the last one please the last one). You just can't seem to say it out loud.
"You can though."
You once again snap out of your spiralling thoughs to see Sunghoon briefly glance at you and then turn his head back to the road.
"Huh?"
He smiles a bit to himself and continues: "I'm just saying that you can change your mind."
"I won't."
You put emphasis on it this time and Sunghoon chuckles softly, tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm only known to him.
-
When Sunghoon parks the truck outside the gas station it feels like you've been gone from civilisation for weeks. It isn't even crowded but seeing other people feels strange somehow.
He gets out of the car and opens the door to the passenger seat, holding his hand out.
"What?" you look at him questioning. "I can wait here, for you, like, I don't need to buy anything!"
Sunghoon shakes his head and you swear you see him roll his eyes.
"Well you see-" he leans in a bit, "the stuff I'm buying is for the both of us."
You feel your face flush with unwanted embarrassment as Sunghoon keeps his piercing eyes on you. He just looks at you, amused, until his face breaks into a smirk.
"You're so fucking cute, you know that?"
He reaches for your hand a second time and this time you take it, and let him help you out of the car.
"It just feels so obvious." you quietly let out, walking across the small parking lot.
"What does?" he asks.
"Just, you know.." you shiver a bit at the cold air-conditioning wall that meets you when entering the small convenience store, "that it's so obvious what we're gonna do..."
"Well babe, I don't mind that, since I quite frankly couldn't care less if people know that I'm soon gonna have sex with a beautiful girl. But, if it bothers you, I'll buy something else as well!"
You can't help but chuckle at that, picturing a pack of condoms next to a random loaf of bread at the checkout.
Sunghoon squeezes your hand (that he's still holding!) and leads you to the cold drinks.
"What do you want?"
"Oh, I mean I don't actually need anything..." you start, fidgeting with a strand of your hair.
Sunghoon sighs, and suddenly there's a shift in the air. He turns you slightly so that your side touches the icy glass door of the refrigerator, his mouth warm against your cheek.
"Honey, there's no one more impatient to get home than me, I could fuck you right here if that wasn't like, illegal, but we're gonna do this the civilised way."
You nod, feeling your body heating up regardless of the cool air around you. Sunghoon softly guides your body away from the refrigerator and opens the door, signaling for you to choose a drink, and you do, pointing to a soda that you like.
"See," he whispers, "that wasn't so hard? Now let's do the rest of our shopping before we can get to the fun part."
-
The rest of the car ride is less awkward, but you still feel tense. Sunghoon's hand finds your thigh every once in a while and rubs slow circles making you slowly lose your mind. He has the radio on this time. The volume is low but his quiet humming sends shivers down your spine.
His hand squeezes your leg once more, dangerously high up.
"How I can hear it in your breathing, how much you want me."
-
When the engine is finally turned of you seriously don't know what to do with yourself. Thankfully, you don't have to worry for too long. Sunghoon puts his car keys into his pocket and immediately turns to you, puts a hand on your waist and pulls you in. When his lips meet yours you can't help but moan, all your built up lust has been killing you for the past half an hour.
Sunghoons other hand moves to your jaw, holding you close in every way possible. His kisses are something in between rough and tender, they're heated but still comforting.
You could probably go on like this forever, but he breaks the kiss and leads you out of the car, heading for the elevator.
He doesn't step away from you even for a second. When you wait for the elevator to get down to the garage, his arm holds your waist and his mouth is on your neck. He isn't even really kissing it. He just breaths and nibbles at your skin in a way that almost makes your knees give in.
When the ding signals that the doors are about to open, Sunghoon doesn't even glance into the elevator to see if it's empty before dragging you inside. He pushes you up against the mirror and connects your lips with his once more.
He's hungrier now, there's a different urgency to his touches compared to when you were in his car. His knee finds it's way in between your legs and you could honestly come right then and there.
You can't really recall the way out from the elevator and through the hallway, it's just a blur of him, him, him, and then suddenly you're in his bed.
Sunghoon spares no time removing his shirt and you finally get a chance to breath when his lips aren't on yours. God he's pretty.
You're on your back and he's basically straddling you, pausing for a bit, looking down at you.
"Do you want me?"
He's breathing heavily, eyes on you as he waits for his answer.
You nod, keeping eye contact, you nod so much your neck almost start to hurt because fuck - yes you want him.
Sunghoon smiles and you can see his pointed corner teeth. He bends down and pushes your shirt up. You feel his soft lips on your stomach as he kisses you there, simultaneously removing your shirt. When it's off he moves to your neck, while his hands are busy with the zipper of your jeans.
When your pants are off he moves on to your underwear and then removing his own jeans, lips still on your neck, leaving hot kisses and small bites. His hands smoothly moves to your back and unclasp your bra.
Sunghoon's mouth leaves your neck and he reaches to the side of his bed, opening the drawer of his bedside table.
"Do you wanna open it?" he asks, condom in hand.
"What?"
He smiles at your needy expression and leans in, placing the edge of the wrapper on your bottom lip.
"Bite down and I'll rip it." Sunghoon commands.
You carefully take the very corner between your teeth and Sunghoon rips it down. He puts his his hand underneath your mouth and signals for you to spit out the small piece of wrapper.
"Good girl."
You watch as he starts to removes his own underwear and can't help but cover your eyes. You hear him laugh softly and then the sound of him rolling on the condom.
Then you feel his hands on your own, pulling then down from your face. "I want you to look at me babe, I wanna see your pretty face when I fuck you."
Then he does. Fuck you, that is. Carefully at first, his hands caressing your sensitive spots while he slowly pushes into you. More intense later, when you've allowed all of him inside and he feels you all around him.
"You feel so fucking good, it feels like I've been hard for hours."
"That's probably because you have been.." you breath out, feeling him in all the right places.
"Oh," Sunghoon utters as he grips your waist a bit rougher "she talks back now?"
You just smile as he goes harder, his panting getting louder wih each thrust.
He's so fucking pretty. And clearly he thinks the same about you.
You feel how your body is getting warmer and that familiar flow starts to build up. Sunghoon has bent down and he's placing messy kisses anywhere he can reach. His words are mumbled, all you can hear is: "shit, shit, shit" which would normally not indicate anything good. But the way he says it makes it sound so beautiful it's silly.
When you come, your cry is silenced by Sunghoon's mouth which once again finds yours. He's not kissing you, he just drinks up your moans and grazes your lips with his teeth.
"Mmmhng... you make really pretty sounds." he says before finally placing a tender kiss on your cheek.
You can't even answer cause your so out of breath. You just stay still, feeling him caressing you and then slowly pulling and and discarding the condom. He immediately moves in close again, kissing your neck while his hands hold your waist.
"Wait!" you sit up so quickly that you almost strain your back, letting out a small hiss of pain.
Sunghoon looks at you confused, "You okay?"
"What time is it?" you ask. "The towing company, if they close, we have to call..." you look around for your bag while Sunghoon tries to calm you down by taking your hand. You look at him almost irritated, "I'm serious, we have to call right now I don't want my car abandoned all night what if-"
You get cut off by Sunghoon's finger on your mouth, you look at him while he chuckles and shakes his head at your panic.
"I already called"
"When? you manage to mumble, lips pressed close to his hand.
"When you got your belongings from your car, before we left. They already texted that they found it and took it to their repair shop."
He looks at you and rubs his thumb across your jaw. "You can relax, no need to be stressed, besides..." he pushes his finger past your lips and inside your mouth, "I'm not done with you yet."
✦ ˚ Tags 🗯️ . ჰ married relationship, fluff, breeding kink, mating press, mentions of oral (f. rec), lactation kink, overstim, multiple orgasms, two- maybe three ass slaps, down bad Jay, Jake cameo (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡ 3.8k words
a/n: thinking about breeding with jay and goood lawwdddd...
wanting to request a fic or drabble? read my rules here!
It started off simple enough.
Christmas shopping with Jay meant going to every store in an attempt to find the worlds best Christmas presents for your friends and family. Jay strolled through the store behind you, movements languid, almost a fluid look as his clothes swallowed him whole, protecting him from the adamnt Winter cold. His eyes dart around to follow your quick-footed movements, watching the way you continously look back at the list in your hand before turning back to the aisles.
You're mid-wonder about what type of video game Ni-Ki might like before your attention is cut short by Jay calling out for you. "Here, look!"
"Yeah- hold on, Jay, I'm trying to find Ki's present." You say back, turning your head over your shoulder so he can hear you properly but your eyes are locked on the wall of Nintendo switch games, brows furrowed as you try to remember which ones he actually has.
The sound of wheels on tile slowly ride up to your side, Jay standing in your peripheral vision and grabbing onto your shoulder. You protest, your concentration being ruined, til you see what Jay holds— a red and green baby onesie with a reindeer on top that says 'Mama's favourite reindeer'.
As you slowly register it, your whole body softens, from your features to something in your chest. Your hand tentively leans up and grabs a hold of the onesie leg, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "Oh…" you whisper, looking back up at Jay with a smile, "It's cute."
"I know," Jay beams, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to the side of your face before turning you around and pointing in the direction of a pile of Christmas clothes, "Look! There's matching ones, too! We can get it for our family."
"Is there any for Buddy?" You ask, leaning into Jay's side as you take the little onesie from his hands, brows furrowing as you notice the red nose on the reindeer. "Shouldn't they be saying Rudolph the red nose reindeer, instead?"
Jay's head whips back towards you, mouth opening and head tilting. "Buddy? No— babe, it's for our family. You know… me, you, and our child." He takes the onesie back and places it in the troller, jutting his head back towards the direction of the game wall. "Come on."
"Buddy's apart of our family." You stare at him, a little dumbfounded at his actions but shrugging your shoulders and following along. There's no point, Jay's paying.
Two days later, it gets a little more obvious and less hypothetical.
Heeseung always holds the annual Christmas parties, inviting guests over for food, present swaps, and just to talk. You sit beside Jay on the couch, leaning into his side and resting your head on his chest, Jay's arm rests around your shoulders and his fingertips draw gently lines up and down your collar bone. The conversation around you consists of plans after the Christmas holidays, potential new years plans, and ideas for brunch that'll never happen.
The conversation stretches onwards and Jay notices how your social battery slowly drains, completely content to just rest against him and listen to everyone else talk. Every so often, you feel the gentle kiss on the top of your head, a silent reminder and reassurance that he's there.
It makes your heart flutter at the quiet gestures he does— it took two years in your relationship before you opened up to Jay about sometimes feeling left out, how being introverted in a group full of extroverts affects the way you've viewed yourself to other people, how your social battery drains easy and you're too worried about people thinking your self-absorded and not wanting to be apart of the conversation.
You do, you really do, but sometimes you need to breath and let everyone else talk first.
And thankfully, Jay understands and does his very best to keep you in the space. Kissing your forehead, gentle touches, randomly bringing you up in conversation and making sure to always send your friends photos of you when you haven't had the time to read the group chat.
You relish in these moments, the warm fluttery feeling and the content that this man is your husband and you will never have to worry about being left out again. Not as long as he's alive.
But right now, it's hard considering his kisses have moved down to the side of your head, a little lick or two on your ear lobe before his hand trails down to grope your breast— which finally gets your full attention.
"Babe!" You hiss, sitting up lightly and looking over your shoulder at him, your hand moves his away and your eyes roll as you hear his quiet chuckle. "What is your problem?"
Your annoyance is faltered as he gently steals a soft kiss before tilting his head towards the direction of your friends. Jake stands in the middle with his phone up, on the screen is his new baby nephew. "Isn't he cute?" Jake squarks, showing the picture to everyone, "God— I can't wait till I have my own. He's so little and tiny and…"
His voice trails off as you look back to Jay, a slightly quizziled expression. "What does that have to do with you groping me in a public space?" You murmur, but you don't make attempt to move away.
Jay shrugs his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and holding your against him, a hum that sounds like 'i don't know' vibrating against your skin. "We could be like that. Showing off our baby to our friends." He says it like a suggestion, like there's a possibility you might go a long with it and he already feels his heart bursting.
"We could be like that." You muse, lips quirking up into a giddy smile. Your fingers fiddle with each other in your lap, feeling the way Jay's breath warms up your skin, you don't even have to look to see the amused look on his face.
Keeping him on his toes might just be the best thing you do in this marriage.
It gets more obvious; Jay sending you videos of babies reacting to Hibachi restaurants, pointing out cute moments of parents dressing their new borns up in little star outfits to protect them for the winter, and it gets super obvious when you catch him looking at 'baby's first Christmas' stockings.
And, you love that he's so adament about how cute babies are but you haven't said it out loud or decided. Well, you kind of did at Heeseungs Christmas party, but that was hardly any comfirmation. You've thought about multiple ways to confront him— even now, when you lay beside him in bed, watching a random movie on your tv while Jay gently runs his fingers through your hair. So you decide to bring it up now.
"Jay, my love?" You whisper, voice breathy and timid. Your head slowly tilts up wards to look at him, the hand that was resting on his lower stomach slowly moving up to rest on his chest.
Jay's gaze turns from his phone screen to look down at you, his glasses slowly sliding down his nose. "Hm?"
Your lips form a small pout, your pointer finger drawing gentle circles on his chest, "Lately, you've…" You hesitate, unsure on how to actually word it, "You've been obsessed with… babies. Do you want to talk to me about it?"
Your husband eyelashes flutter as he looks down at you, a dumbfounded expression adorning his features as his lips gently part in surprise. The words hang in the air and you're trying to hold eye contact but his lack of answers are driving you up the wall.
His lips open and closed like a gold fish, eyebrows raising in surprise before he finally speaks up. "Babe—" he starts, shaking his head and using his forefinger to push his glasses up his nose. "What?"
You scoff, rolling your eyes and resting your head back on his chest, snuggling closer. "Babies! You've been obsessed with babies— Jay, you bought a baby onesie because you thought it was cute! We don't even have a baby to wear it. And you've been obsessed with watching videos of different babies and you just like— do you want a baby, Jay?"
Your little ramble makes Jay laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. "My love…" he whispers, "Of course I want a baby with you. I just wasn't sure how to actually bring it up. I was hoping you would— which you have, so thank you."
You hum, the small scowl on your face disppearing and being replaced with contentment at the answer. "You could've done it as like… a Christmas present." You huff, turning your head to look back up at him, a smile full of mischief adorning your features.
Jay shakes his head in confusement, brows furrowing as he mouths a small 'what?'. Your little laugh makes him even more confused, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter. "How am I meant to get us a baby for your Christmas present? I don't even think storks deliver on Christmas Day."
Giggles fall from your mouth as you sit up, becoming eye level with Jay and resting your hand on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt and biting your lower lip. "No, silly," you chide, shaking your head with mock disappointment before leaning in, brushing your noses together, "You can give me a baby for our Christmas present because… I'm ovulating over Christmas.
The look he gives you makes your giggles grow deeper, more tempted as you throw your leg over his, shrugging your shoulders as if you expected him to know this. Which he didn't but fuck, now you've told him, he's not going to leave you alone. "Seriously?" he whispers, a grin adorning his features as he pulls you impossibly closer, leaning his face into your neck and immediately attacking it while he slowly lays you down on the comforter. "You'll be ovulating over Christmas? Fuck, really? Oh my god… it's our own Christmas miracle."
You arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and throwing your head back with a laugh while you feel him lick and nibble at your neck, opening your legs to accomodate him inbetween. "Jay!" you squeal, "Come on! Don't be so cheesy about this."
"No, shhh, shh," he hushes, trailing his kisses from your neck, across your cheek and pressing a wet, slopping kiss on your lips, having to fight back his own laughter at the sound of yours. "It's perfectly timed. Then we get a beautiful girl born in September." He slowly pulls your shirt— his — upwards and presses kisses down your torso, purposely licking a stripe from your stomach down to the waist band of your panties. "Gonna have to save up my loads, huh?"
The week finally leading up to Christmas was absolutely insatiable. Jay took every chance to press himself up against your, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his hand rest oon your lower stomach as if you actually have a baby inside you already. He kept making stupid jokes about the 12 loads of Christmas, how he'll turn you into a Christmas pudding and if he gets your used panties as a fucking stocking stuffer.
By Christmas Eve night he had you one your back, slobbering all over your already sopping pussy, mumbling about how sweeter it gets when you're fertile and playing with your clit as if it was a fidget toy. He was aiming to get you prepped for tomorrow, bringing you to four orgasms before having to stop because he was going to bust in his pants.
And Christmas day was even worse, especially because your dumbasses had already planned to hold Christmas lunch that year. Jay had decided to make it his life goal to touch you no matter where you were, waking up in bed, following you to let the dog out and then to the kitchen, deciding to make jokes about drinking some of the gravy off your collar bones while licking at your neck, having to take a shower with you and eating you out against the wall for good luck, while doing your pin curls he decided to suck a big fat hickey just near the neckline of your dress, and then he wouldn't leave you alone for the whole entire Christmas party. He even tried having you sit on his lap when doing the present swap.
Thankfully, he had the decency to help clean up around the house after everyone finally left. Just to make things go quicker for when he could finally bend you over the counter. A.K.A, now.
As soon as you bent down to place the last plate away, you felt him press up behind you, basically dry humping you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing your front against the counter top and nibbling at your ear lobe. "It's only 5:30…" he whispers in your ear, hands sliding up and down your thighs before gently bunching your dress up to your hips. "I've still got… 6 and a half hours to make sure you get those 24 loads."
You laugh, hands bracing the counter top and looking over your shoulder at him, gasping when a hand lands on the back of your thigh. "Jay— let's be optimistic here," you murmur, slowly grinding back into him and gently pushing yourself up, "Let's just stick with the traditional 12 days, yeah?"
You don't get an answer. Instead, his hand comes up to cup one of your breasts as the other finds the zipper of your dress, his lips following it downwards and undoing your bra. You let him. The gentle feel of his kisses and touches hide that dirty intention, rousing feeling building up your stomach and sternum, creating quiet moans as he undresses you, kissing at the swell of your ass and pulling back the fabric with his teeth, letting it smack back against your skin.
"So beautiful like this," he whispers, spreading your legs far enough so he can sit inbetween them, licking at wet stain that seemed across your underwear. There is absolutely no way you can lie to this man on how turned on you are. Mixed with ovulation? You almost took him right at the table next to the turkey. "God, baby, 'm sorry, i'll have to taste you later, I need to fuck you right away."
His hands basically rip the thin cotton off of you, and bends you back over the counter top. The sound of his belt being undone and the annoyed grumble falling from his lips when it takes too long makes you laugh. It doesn't even matter to tease him, he's already spreading your lips and shoving his length inside. "Jay!" You gasp, resting your cheek on the countertop. "Fuck… give me a second."
In the meantime, he presses gently kisses at your spine, hands rubbing at your shoulders before sliding down to your ass again, kneeding the flesh and whispering sweet compliments against your skin. When he feels you push back against him and hear that sweet little 'please' Jay starts his thrusts. Shallow and quick, just getting used to the feel before slowly starting to pull back further till his tip is almost slipping out and he's slamming back home.
A constant array of moans and his name falls from your lips, eyes staying closed shut everytime he slips back inside, hitting that gooey spot inside you and creating a whole new bucket of essence that drips out of you. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips, creating crescent moons that most likely will bruise the next morning.
"Fuck, baby, I can't here you," he grunts, manhandling you so one of your legs is propped up against the counter and pulling you back up by your hair. "There we go… nice and loud for me, baby. Tell Jay how good it feels."
Your pussy clamps around his cock at the difference between his rough movements and gentle tone, already pushing you closer to the edge. "Jay!" You moan, tilting your head back against his shoulder, the current angle hitting your sweet spot everytime and immediately causing your legs to shake with the intensity. "Fuck— god, wont last!"
He groans into your ear, an arm coming around to grope your tits, thumbing at your perk nipples and huffing into your ear. ""s okay, baby, that's the whole point, isn't it?" he whispers, "I get to make you feel good and fuck a baby into you."
And god, that sounds fucking perfect.
Your walls spasm around him, something close to a wail as your first orgasm of the night hits you, leaning back against Jay as he holds you up and fucks you through it. It's not long before he's releasing inside of you as well, slow, drawn out pumps as he listens to the schlick schlick schlick of your releases mixing together.
He slowly comes to a stop, keeping himself plunged inside of you and biting into the skin of your shoulder, licking at it to soothe the skin before whispering in your ear. "11 more to go, baby."
By 7pm, he's had you on the kitchen counters, the dining room and even bent over the couches arm chair, four orgasms in and currently pushing you to your fifth on your shared bed. Finally, he allowed you to take the lead, riding his cock as if it owes you something. Which it does. His constant dirty talk of getting you pregnant and filling you to the brim pushes you for more. More more more more.
Your pace isn't languid, it's fast and hard, with Jay bucking his hips up into yours and shoving his face into your chest, leaving heavy hickeys and red blemishes, murmuring against the skin and driving you closer to the edge. "Can't wait for these— ngh, to be filled with milk, fuck—" he gasps, hips stuttering as he feels your impending orgasm once more, "Can't wait to drink from… oh! Fuck— do that again, yeahhhh…"
His tongue slips out, lapping at your nipples and shaking his head. A choked laugh falls from his mouth when he feels your knees tighten around his hips, walls clamping down onto him and nails digging into the skin of his stomach. "God— baby!" He groans, his own orgasm following after. But his pace doesn't stop. His arms hug your waist, laying back against the bed and continuing to fuck up into you, letting you lay limp on top of him.
And he can't fucking complain because he immediately sends you into your sixth orgasm, a squeal falling from your lips as he has to hold you down from running away. "Wh— where are you going…huh?" he asks, smooshing his face into your bouncing breasts, letting you milk him dry, the smacking sound of ass against the tops of his thighs driving him insane.
Jay rolls you onto your back, bear hugging you as his movements never stop. "Come on… come.. on," he pants into your neck, "Again, baby… mmpff— eight… another one!"
You can barely comprehend anything, eyes permantely rolled back along with your mouth stuck open, your moans flowing without your permission, hardly listening to his words. But your pussy's listening, pushing out your eighth orgasm and causing you to almost scream. "Jjjj… Jay! Oh, fuck!"
To Jay, you look fucking stunning, causing him to shoot another load inside of you. He sits there for a few moments, the intensity causing him to actually stop his plans, unfortunately. And fuck, the fact that you're squeezing around him so tightly makes him whimper. Actually fucking whimpers.
"I'm— oh… you're gonna look so fucking good. Plugged with my cum.. holding my fucking baby, god! Your tits leaking with milk… 'm gonna spoil you so bad. So so bad, baby. Good girl."
And it's ridiculous considering that pushed you to your nth orgasm. Which makes him cum for the eighth time and… it's like a fucking unstoppable trigger that jay has to pull out. He needs to make this last and the twelfth will be special.
As he slowly slides out, you whimper, legs tightening around him and a pout forming on your lips. "Jay— what?" you choke out, "Not yet— we're not done—"
"Shhh…" he whispers, kissing against your cheek, "Just a break, just a break, baby." He rests his length on your stomach, taking deep, heaving breaths to calm himself down. "I'm thinking… thinking how to make this more efficient."
Questioning him is ridiculous because 10 minutes later he's got you in the dirtiest fucking mating press, body completely locked up, two of Jay's fingers playing with your clit, as he pushes you through two more orgams, his words almost incoherent with how pussy drunk he is. He can hardly imagine letting go of your sweet pussy, especially after he saw how fucking pretty it looked stuffed full and leaking of his cum.
His.
He knows he already has the ring on your finger. And he knows he can come inside you at any time but god, now he knows there's a goal and the fact that he can imagine your stomach swole with his baby and your tits all full with milk… hes not fucking letting you go.
"Jay!" you chant, struggling to stay still even though he has you wound tight, his tip hits your cervix over and over and over and over. "Ohhh— fuck! Wait— this one… fuck!"
When it hits your fluids attempt to push him out, sending you so far up into the sky you're unsure you'll ever be able to get down. The intensity sends shock waves through your bodies and the only grip on reality is Jay's encouraging words, whispering into your ear how precious you are and how proud he is.
Because you fucking squirted.
By the time you come back down, you're not even aware of Jay's movements or touches, just twitching on the bed as he whispers in your ear, "Good girl… come back to me, baby," he says, hands trailing up and down your sides. He's lifted your legs off his shoulders, letting you lay limp against the bed as he cradles you close, gently kissing at every bite and hickey he's left on your skin.
Your voice is finally found after a few moments, slowly turning your head towards your husband as your eyes struggle to stay open. "Jay…?"
"Shhh, 's okay, you can sleep, baby." He whispers, rolling you onto your side and cuddling you close, keeping you plugged with his half-hard cock so he knows it sticks. "I've got you, baby… did so good for me. Just relax, my love."
You cuddle close against him, still feeling the aftershocks and the way your legs twitch, but you eventually compose yourself and slowly start to fall asleep. The last words you hear for the night being: "We'll continue on tomorrow."
Summary: Every touch, every thrust, every curl of his fingers drives you closer, yet he always pulls away just as you’re about to shatter. You whine, hips buck, begging, clenching helplessly around nothing, voice raw from overstimulation.
You’re trembling beneath him, slick and desperate, every nerve raw, every muscle tense. Jungwon’s hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, pressing you open, dragging you toward the edge, and then pulling away before you can reach it. You’re whining, voice high and shaky, gasping for air, and your hips move almost on instinct, chasing the release you can’t have.
He leans down, lips brushing your ear, teeth grazing the shell, whispering low:
“Not yet… I said not yet.”
You whine louder, clenching around his fingers as they slide inside you, curling, pressing, hitting every spot that makes you shiver. Your back arches, toes curling, chest heaving, and just as your walls start to quiver around him, he pulls out. The sudden absence leaves you twitching, gasping, desperate.
“Jungwon, please… I can’t—” you beg, hips lifting helplessly, voice breaking.
His hand presses to your throat lightly, thumb brushing along your jaw. “Not yet,” he murmurs again, eyes dark, possessive. “You’re mine to tease.”
He pushes back in slowly, cock or fingers slick with your wetness, and you mewl, hips bucking, desperate. He leans down to kiss your shoulder, jawline, teasing with teeth, letting the pressure of his weight and the friction of his shaft drive you higher. Every inch inside you is deliberate, slow, teasing, and your body is vibrating under his control.
Time and again, you build to the edge, hips jerking, thighs quivering, walls clenching around him, only for him to pull back, letting you writhe and whine in frustration. Your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and you can’t stop whining:
“Please… please let me—”
He tilts his head, smirk dark, almost playful, while one hand slides down to cup your chest, thumb circling your nipple as the other continues the slow torment of teasing inside you. “Not yet. Not until I say.”
The fourth time he pulls out, you’re shaking uncontrollably, breath coming in short, ragged gasps, moaning over and over, your chest rising and falling in desperation. He watches every reaction, the tremble of your hips, the way you clench around air, the whine that escapes your lips, and it makes him growl low in his throat.
Finally, he presses his hands to your thighs, holding you spread, and leans in close. “Look at you… begging, whining for release, and I’m the only one who gets to decide.”
You cry out, hips lifting on their own, clenching helplessly around nothing, quivering with overstimulation. He strokes you slowly now, fingers circling, pumping, dragging you toward the edge yet again, then pulling back just before you can shatter. You’re crying out his name, whining, shaking, completely undone.
The fifth time, he pulls out entirely, letting you roll helplessly under the sensation, trembling, hips jerking instinctively. He leans down, pressing his chest against yours, cock slick and hard, hand trailing over your soaked body. You whimper, voice raw, chest heaving, begging silently with every desperate shiver.
“Such a good girl… so needy,” he murmurs. “But this time, I’m the one finishing.”
Before you can react, he positions himself over your chest, cock pressed against your tits, and starts stroking slowly, deliberately. You’re trembling, whining, desperate for your own release, but he doesn’t care, he’s taking what he wants, watching your body respond, letting every moan and whine feed him.
Your hands clutch at him, trying to grab, trying to pull him closer, but he’s in control, stroking himself over your chest, letting you feel everything while denying your release entirely. You’re shaking, crying out, hips pressing helplessly against nothing, but he only smirks,a low growl vibrating through him.
And then he cums, hot, sticky, over your tits, his fingers gripping your shoulders, holding you in place as your own body quivers in frustration, need, and overstimulation. You’re whining, voice hoarse, chest heaving, and he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, lips brushing yours gently after the feral climax.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, rough and low. “So desperate for me… and still mine.”
You can barely nod, body trembling, soaked, slick, and utterly undone, not from your own release, but from the control, from the repeated denial, from the way he made every nerve ending scream for him alone. And somewhere deep down, you know you’d let him do it all over again if he wanted.
You’re lying back, trembling, chest heaving, every nerve still vibrating from the relentless denial. Jungwon’s hands trail lightly over your thighs, hips, stomach, soft touches that make your body twitch even when you think you can’t take any more. His thumbs brush over your wet folds, tracing circles that send tiny shivers down your spine, teasing without giving release.
“Still so needy,” he murmurs, voice low, dark, and teasing. “You’ve been holding back so well… but I can feel how close you are.”
You whine, hips pressing instinctively toward him, trying to chase the friction you can’t have. He laughs low, a growl vibrating in his chest, and leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans over your cheek as he whispers:
“You’re mine. Every little quiver, every clench… all for me.”
He alternates, fingers pressing, stroking, curling inside you, then pulling away just as your muscles clench impossibly around him. You cry out, high and desperate, whining his name, and he chuckles, almost in disbelief at how much you’re reacting. Your hips lift, shaking, trying to chase the release that has been denied to you so many times.
“Not yet,” he teases again, slow, feral, letting your body shiver and writhe under his control. “I want you right here, trembling for me, until I say.”
His hands slide up to your chest, fingers circling your nipples, while his other hand teases along your folds, just brushing over your clit. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched whine, breath stuttering, and he grins against your skin, dark amusement in his eyes.
“You’re so vocal… so needy… I can’t believe this,” he murmurs, chuckling softly. “Look at you… begging for release like this.”
Every touch, every tease builds you higher. Your body aches, quivers, muscles trembling, and finally, he leans in, pressing his chest to yours, fingers sliding back inside, curling perfectly against your walls.
“Now,” he whispers, voice low and commanding. “Now you can come.”
The word sends you over the edge like a tidal wave. Your walls clench impossibly around him, hips bucking, cries tearing from your throat as your orgasm explodes through you. You shudder violently, every muscle trembling, your slick coating his fingers and chest as your body shatters again and again.
You feel it, liquid heat spurting uncontrollably, your body squirming, shaking, screaming his name, wetness spilling over him. He chuckles, low and incredulous, pressing his forehead to yours, lips brushing over yours, tasting you.
“Wow… look at you,” he murmurs, laughing softly, almost in disbelief. “You came all over me… my good girl.”
You’re trembling, spent, soaked, body still twitching from the intensity, and he keeps you close, cradling you, stroking lightly over your slick, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. His chest rises and falls against yours, breath warm, voice murmuring praise, his hands lingering possessively over you.
“You were so good for me,” he says, voice low, feral and gentle at once. “Every whine… I loved every second.”
Your body hums, every nerve raw and alive, as you relax against him, utterly spent and completely his, slick and trembling, still riding the aftershocks of the orgasm he finally let you have. His chuckle vibrates against your skin, and you realize you’ll never forget the way he made you beg, denied you, and then finally claimed you entirely.
Summary: You think you’re just having fun in the pool, playful and perfect, laughing with the kids, completely unaware of the fire you’re igniting in him.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Breeding kink/impregnation fantasy, Fingering to orgasm, Dirty talk about filling, marking, making you a mom, Partial clothing (wet bikini top pushed up, bottom partially in place), Rough, possessive sex, Oral/finger licking, Dom/sub dynamics, creampie, unprotected sex, p in v, penetration
[Kinktober Masterlist] [Masterlist]
The sun is high, glaring off the water, and you glide through the pool like you own it. Your bikini is skimpy, wet and clinging perfectly to your body, showing off every curve, the tops of your breasts pressing temptingly against the slick fabric as you move, every step and kick through the water drawing the attention of more than just a few eyes. But Jay… he’s not looking at anyone else.
He’s tucked into the corner under the shade, silent, watching. The faint crease between his brows deepens as he takes in the way your body moves in the water, how your wet bikini fits you like a second skin, how effortlessly you charm the kids around you. You’re laughing, splashing, playing with his little cousins and nieces and nephews, hair slicked back, eyes sparkling, and his chest tightens.
Jay’s hands are clenched in his lap, eyes following every glide of your arms through the water, every playful splash, every teasing glance your way that you don’t even know you’re giving him. He can feel it, his hard cock, pressing against the trunks he’s tried so desperately to ignore. And no matter how many questions his aunts, cousins, and nieces throw at him, his answers are short, clipped, because he can’t focus on anything except the sight of you.
“What’s wrong, Jay?” one of his cousins asks, tilting her head, curiosity written across her face.
“Nothing,” he mutters shortly, voice low, tense, avoiding anyone’s gaze but yours. His jaw is tight. Every laugh you give, every toss of your hair, every flick of water that glimmers across your wet skin, is a knife to his restraint.
You don’t notice it yet, you’re too busy being the perfect, playful swan in the water. But he sees the way the wet fabric hugs your chest, the subtle sway of your hips as you step lightly along the pool edge, the way you lean into the kids, and it’s all he can do to not stand, stride across the pool, and press you into the nearest corner until he can claim you fully.
The heat inside him is unbearable. He shifts, every muscle coiled tight, jaw flexing, fingers curling against the fabric of his trunks. The desire is primal, breeding, possessive, need-to-mark-you kind of feral. And he swears silently to himself, in front of everyone, in the middle of the pool party… you’re his, and he’s not going to let anyone else near you.
His aunts ask again, pointing at his obvious tension. “Jay, are you feeling sick?”
“No,” he snaps, voice low, clipped. Then his gaze snaps back to you, watching you laugh, the water sliding off your skin, the sun glinting over every curve. He swallows hard. His body betrays him, betrays how badly he wants you, right here, right now.
You’re the only one he sees. You’re laughing with the kids, oblivious to the storm he’s barely containing. And that’s when he knows, he’s going to have to claim you the moment he gets you alone. His fingers twitch, thighs tighten, and he forces himself to stay seated, to answer every question in short, sharp bursts, all the while imagining pressing you against him, hips flush, whispering, mine… mine… mine.
Every playful splash, every sway, every curve revealed in the wet fabric is sending him closer to the edge, and he knows he won’t be able to resist for long. That bikini, that laugh, that body… it’s all a lure, all a trap he’s willingly falling into.
And when the party is over, when everyone leaves, when the pool is empty and quiet except for the sound of dripping water… he’s going to make you pay for every second he’s had to sit quietly, watching, waiting, wanting, and you’re going to feel it, the full, feral, possessive force of Jay, marking you, claiming you… breeding you.
Jay’s eyes follow you like a predator, impossible to tear away. You’re laughing with the kids, graceful, playful, completely unaware of the fire you’re igniting in him. Every kick of water, every stretch of your arms, every sway of your hips in that wet bikini, it’s like a spotlight on every curve, every inch of you, and it makes him growl softly under his breath.
He can’t stop imagining the future, imagining you, his perfect angel, round and swollen with his children. His fingers twitch over his thighs, grip tightening on the fabric of his trunks, and his cock strains hard, pressed against him in a way that’s almost painful.
“God… you’d be perfect,” he murmurs quietly to himself, voice low, rough, almost a growl. The thought of your stomach swollen, your hips thick, your walls aching and full of his seed, it makes him shiver, makes him desperate, makes him want to claim you right here and now.
Every laugh you give the kids, every small, playful splash, is a dagger to his restraint. He swallows hard, jaw tightening, imagining how good it’s going to feel when he finally drags you into a private room. When he can press you against him, hips flush, groaning into your neck as he fills you completely.
The wet bikini clings to your chest, highlighting every curve, every swell, every subtle movement, and he shifts in his seat, thighs flexing, hands clenched. His groan is soft but deep, reverberating in his chest as he pictures it: you, round and full, marked entirely by him, carrying his children, every inch of you his.
He watches you, mesmerized and frustrated at once. You’re so innocent, so perfect, playing with the kids like nothing else matters, and yet in his mind, he’s already imagining the moments when the world isn’t watching, when he can take you exactly as he wants. He wants to fill you until you’re swollen, until you’re aching, until your moans echo through the room, and he can groan softly, pressing himself into you, straining hard, utterly undone by the thought of the children you’ll make together.
Every movement you make in the water, every laugh, every playful gesture, it’s a promise to him. He’s going to claim you, breed you, mark you, and you won’t be able to resist him. He swallows, tightening his thighs, groaning softly again, imagining your body round and swollen beneath him, your walls clenching impossibly around him, and he can barely wait to make it real.
Evening has settled in, the pool party winding down. Everyone’s moving inside to get ready, laughter and chatter fading as people begin cleaning up. You’re barely aware of the noise around you; your body is still slick and sensitive from the pool, from Jay’s lingering stare, from the tension that’s been building all afternoon.
And then, suddenly, you’re yanked gently but firmly into the nearest powder room. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the sounds of the house. He presses you against the wall, his hands roaming over your wet skin, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
“You’ve been driving me insane all day,” he growls, voice low and feral, lips brushing your ear. “Baby, you don’t even know what you do to me. Look at you… like this… and I can’t wait any longer.”
You whimper, hips pressing toward him instinctively, and he groans, hands tightening. Without hesitation, he presses a hand over your mouth, muffling your gasp, fingers digging into your sides. He doesn’t even remove your bikini completely, just pushes the top up until your breasts spill freely, soft and slick from the pool, nipples hard, begging for attention.
“God… you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice thick with need. “Every inch of you is mine. And I’m going to fill you… stuff this little pussy full of me until it’s mine, until you’re swollen with my seed.”
Before you can respond, he slides a hand between your thighs, fingers pressing against your soaking folds.
His fingers slide inside you, curling expertly, stretching, pressing every sensitive spot that has your walls clenching around nothing. You moan into his palm, hips bucking, trying to chase release. He chuckles low, possessive, pressing his body flush against yours.
“You’re so wet for me… you feel so good,” he murmurs, gritting his teeth as he watches your body respond. “I want to make you come… right here, my little swan.”
And then he does. His fingers move faster, curling perfectly, and your hips buck, moans muffled under his hand, as your walls clench impossibly around him. You’re trembling, gasping, whining, voice broken and breathless, and he groans low, feeling every spasm.
When you shiver, quivering, completely undone, he pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean. “God… so good,” he murmurs, eyes dark and possessive. Then he presses his mouth to yours, kissing you roughly, tasting yourself on him, lips hot and demanding.
Without breaking the kiss, he slides his hands over your breasts, flicking and pinching your hardened nipples. The bottom is left mostly in place, but pushed aside enough to let him press against you. His cock nudges against your folds, hard and straining, and he groans.
“You’re so wet… all for me,” he growls. “And I’m going to fuck you like you’re mine to make a mom. You feel that? I’m going to fill you completely, little swan. Every bit of me… all inside you.”
He positions himself, cock pressing against your folds, slick from your wetness and the teasing from his fingers. He fucks into you slowly at first, savoring the tightness, the helplessness, the way your walls clamp around him. You’re trembling, whimpering, moaning against his hand, and he groans, burying himself deeper.
“You’re mine,” he says roughly, lips brushing your temple. “Mine to fill. Mine to breed. Mine to make… my little angel, swollen with me.”
He fucks harder, hips snapping, each thrust deep and possessive. Your body shivers, slick, sensitive, each moan trapped under his palm. He leans down, pressing his chest to yours, cock stretching you perfectly, and murmurs between gritted teeth:
“God… you’re so tight. So wet. So ready for me. I’m going to fill you until you can’t take any more. All of me… in your little pussy, all mine.”
He alternates between thrusting and curling his fingers inside you, making your hips lift, walls clench, and your body shake uncontrollably. You’re gasping, whining, completely undone. The wet bikini bottom is pushed aside just enough to accommodate him, the top still partially in place, breasts spilling freely, nipples bouncing with every brutal, perfect thrust.
“You’re going to be mine… carrying my children,” he growls. “My little angel… I’m filling you, and you’re going to take it all. You’re going to be swollen with me, with my seed, and you’re going to love it.”
Your moans grow louder, every nerve ending alive, hips bucking against him instinctively, desperate for more even though he’s completely in control. He leans down, presses his palm harder over your mouth, muffling your cries, but keeps his thrusts steady, deep, and possessive, until his grip on your hips tightens, and you feel the first hot pulse of his seed filling you.
“Mine…” he growls, voice low, thick. “All mine…”
He fucks you through his release, cock pulsing deep, filling you over and over, walls clenching around him as he groans. His hands roam, pinning you in place, pressing you against the wall, whispering filthy promises about marking you, breeding you, making you his forever.
You shiver, trembling, moaning, completely undone, slick and sticky with him inside you. He keeps going until his movements slow, body still pressing flush against yours, chest heaving, voice low, feral.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs finally, lips brushing your temple, fingers stroking your hair. “So perfect… mine… and now filled with me.”
Your body hums, every nerve raw and alive, soaked in his seed, trembling, completely his. And as he presses a final, possessive kiss to your forehead, you know: this is exactly what he wanted, and he’s never letting you go.
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Pairing : demon husband heeseung x human wife reader
Genre : fluff, protective husband heeseung,
Synopsis : Y/N is married to a stupid demon king who thinks he can lock her in his palace to protect her. And Heeseung intends to show anyone who thinks they can touch his precious wife that the consequence is… death.
"Stupid demon !" Heeseung lazily tilts his head to the side to avoid the vase his wife just threw. The object shatters into a thousand pieces against the wall behind him, forming a small pile on the floor.
The King of Curses was used to his wife's outbursts of fury, and it even amused him. Though she was human and he was a thousand-year-old demon who sowed blood and terror wherever he went, she never ceased to defy him and play with his nerves.
Y/N had had enough of her husband. Though she had consented to the marriage to save her family from the clutches of the demon who had become infatuated with her, he annoyed her no less. Why did an idiot have to possess the body of a God ? She loved him, truly. But he drove her crazy !
Heeseung dodges whatever she can throw in his direction, seated on a cushion at the head of the table where his demon Lord friends are seated. With his chin resting on his fist and a smirk at the corner of his lips, he contemplates his little wife. The silken fabric of her red robe falls delightfully over her body, the jewels adorning her neck making him lick his lips.
"Are you even listening to me ?!" Y/N shouts. "I'm not going to get myself killed going to a simple festival ! I want to eat real tteokbokki, from a stall, not the sticky stuff your servants serve me !" Heeseung's red eyes settle on the servants who are cowering in a corner of the room. Angering the King of Curses meant a very painful death. "Heeseung, just two hours !"
The demon looks up at her, his teeth biting his lip. "No."
Y/N lets out an enraged exclamation, taking off her shoe to throw it in his direction. The flat shoe bounces off Heeseung's skull, who chuckles, amused. "What did I do to deserve a stupid demon husband ?! YOU ANNOY ME !"
A soldier detaches himself from the line of guards supposed to keep watch and approaches her to roughly grab her arm. "Don't you see you're disturbing the king and the Lords with your childish behavior ?!" he barks at her. "Go back to your womanly chores and stop bothering those with real responsibilities !"
"Let go of me, bitch !" she spits, kicking his shin. He growls and brings his hand down on her cheek, the sound of the slap echoing in the room as Y/N collapses from the blow.
A deathly silence falls over the room. The servants and guards dare not move, barely even breathe. Only their eyes turn towards Heeseung, who is staring at the soldier with a dark gaze. Y/N props herself up on an elbow, bringing a hand to her reddened cheek, still in shock. No one had ever treated her like that before.
Though Heeseung was a bloodthirsty monster of violence, he had never raised a hand against her. A burst of laughter resonates in the room, the king drumming his fist on the table. His Lords let out a few snickers, already preparing for what is to come as that idiot soldier allows himself to smile.
The demon wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, his laughter dying in his throat. "Did you just hit my wife ?" His hoarse and threatening voice makes the humans tremble.
"My king, I…"
"Did. You. Just. Hit. My. Wife ?" Heeseung emphasizes each word, his claws leaving deep imprints in the wood of the table. The soldier is as pale as death, his grip on the hilt of his sword trembling. He nods without a word, a drop of sweat rolling down his temple. Heeseung gives a weak sneer, running his tongue over his teeth. He sets his eyes on Y/N, still on the floor, her eyes teary and her trembling lower lip caught between her teeth.
Heeseung rises, his white kimono opening slightly over his muscular, tattooed chest as he rounds the table and strides in their direction. The soldier straightens up, shoulders stiff. "My king, I can…" The demon doesn't let him finish and sweeps him away with a violent slap that sends him crashing into the wall behind him.
He then crouches in front of Y/N, one knee on the ground. She lifts her teary eyes to him, and he presses his cold hand to her bruised cheek, which brings her some comfort. "Don't cry, little dove. Come here."
Heeseung encircles one of his arms around her waist to pull her to him, settling her on one of his knees. Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, a sob escaping her as she hides her face in the hollow of his neck.
"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," she sniffs against his skin.
"Never apologize for entertaining me as you do, my sweet wife. Even if bouncing your sandals off my skull amuses you." He manages to draw a trembling giggle from her, which satisfies him. He drags his nose along her throat, inhaling her sweet scent before setting his threatening gaze on the soldier, whose nose is bloodied and dripping onto his chin.
Heeseung lifts his wife with one arm and without effort, settling her against his chest in a protective manner. Y/N clings to his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. The soldier tries to crawl away, but the demon's foot on his throat pins him to the floor. He grabs his ankle to try to push it away, choking.
"You must be new, right ? To attack my wife like that without thinking you'll stay alive."
"I-I'm s-sorry… I just wanted to defend you and…"
"And you think I need a pathetic little human like you to defend me ? If my wife enjoys throwing things in my face or insulting me, who are you to stop her ? She is your queen ! Who do you think you are to dare speak to her, look at her, and above all, lay your filthy hands on her ?!" Heeseung presses his heel a little harder against his trachea, the guard kicking his feet, seeking air. He turns his head towards the young woman, placing a kiss on her jaw. "My love, he's the one who hurt you. You can decide his punishment."
Y/N turns her gaze to the soldier, who is gurgling apologies and pleas, then brings her mouth close to the demon's ear. She whispers something to him, Heeseung's lips stretching into a wicked smile. "Fuck, baby, I'm rubbing off on you, it seems. Gather all the servants in the courtyard and torture this one as an example," he orders his Lords. "Let them all know what to expect if they disrespect their queen."
"Aish, finally some action !" exclaims Jake, standing up.
"You let me tie him up, I like it when little humans struggle," Sunoo giggles.
"And keep him silent !" Heeseung commands as he walks away. "Y/N needs to rest."
"Okay, hyung !"
"Come here, my cute one !" The soldier's cries are muffled by the gag tied around his mouth.
Heeseung walked to the royal chamber, closing the doors behind him with the tip of his foot. He went to lay his wife on the large bed with red bedding, looming over her with his imposing body. The demon leans on one elbow, sliding his free hand along her throat. "You're okay, doll ?"
Y/N nods weakly and her delicate hands grab the front of his kimono to pull him to her. The king chuckles, understanding what she wants, and lets himself fall beside her, wrapping his arms around her to press her against his chest. He places a kiss on her forehead, letting his fingers slide through her hair.
The young woman eventually falls asleep, and her demon husband is there to watch over her until she wakes. "Wake up, little love." Y/N hears her husband's deep voice in her ear, groaning in her sleep as she presses into the warmth of his body. "Come on, I have a surprise for you."
She opens her sleepy eyes to find his lopsided smile. Heeseung lifts her in his arms despite her weak protests and heads towards the balcony. The doors let in the soft spring air, and the demon takes a leap from the ground to propel himself towards the opposite roof.
He lands skillfully on the tiles, sitting on the edge of the roof while keeping his wife on his lap. Y/N is about to ask him what they're doing here when the festival fireworks explode in the sky. The colored lights mingle with the stars and are reflected in the young woman's awestruck eyes.
Heeseung smiles, proud of his surprise, and rests his chin on her shoulder. "Do you like my surprise, wifey ? Seeing the fireworks with your dear husband is better than alone at that festival, right ?"
Y/N lifts her head towards him, a smile stretching her lips, and tenderly joins her mouth to his. The demon cups his large palm against her cheek to deepen the kiss, taking advantage of her gasp to slide his tongue between her lips.
His wife grips the front of his kimono, trying to match his passionate rhythm. He pulls away slightly to let her catch her breath. "Thank you, Seungie."
"Anything for my pretty wife." He kisses the tip of her nose, making her giggle.
Y/N snuggles into his arms, watching the fireworks in awe, the king's thick arms wrapped around her. Though Heeseung was a demon, he was her husband.
synopsis: having a pain in the ass at your heels all the time was not on your bucket-list for this semester. but still he was chasing you, not giving up even if you said it to his face every time.
genre: crack, fluff, smut, drama, uni au, grumpy x sunshine (kinda)
contains: profanity, smoking, alcohol consumption, family issues (unspecified), bisexual!reader, multiple sex scenes, casual hook-up, jealous!jay, femboy slander (playful, not malicious), side-fuck!jongseob (p1h), toxic ex reappearance, emotional tension, the gradual mess of falling in love without realizing it
You turned to face him making him halt his steps and almost bump into you. Not like he would complain. You stared at him deadpan, his eyes blinking repeatedly.
"That don't matter babygirl, I got that masc lesbian in me."
He retorted, shaking his head with every word, as if to reassure you. You groaned in frustration, turning to continue the route to the campus cafe where your supposed group study meet up place was. Your steps were accompanied by another set of steps right at your heels. Like always. "You better get that strap ready—"
"Shut up!"
You yelled out, opening the double door that led into the grand room full of tables scattered with students — caffeine-fueled and halfway to burnout. Heads turned. You didn't care. Maybe if enough people witnessed your slow descent into madness, they do throw you a pitty latte. He, of course, followed. Like a particularly chatty shadow.
"I'm just sayin'..." he said, voice dropping like he was about to tell you a secret. "If you were into girls, I could still be your girl. Spiritually." Maybe if you caused enough of a scene, someone—anyone—would call security and drag him off. You didn't dignify it. Your jaw clenched. Steps quickened. He was practically bouncing behind you now, stupid smile on his face like you hadn’t crushed his hopes ten times over this week alone. You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache. "You're exhausting."
"And yet," he said, walking backward to keep his eyes on you as you made your way toward the back of the café, "you still haven't filed a restraining order. That's gotta mean something." You huffed in response, done with his stupidity. You spotted your study group in the back corner—Nina, Jungwon, Sunghoon—all already mid-cram session. Lucky bastards. They didn't have a personal stalker with delusions of romance. And curse Jungwon for being his best friend that sadly you hang out with almost all the time.
You slid into the chair besides Nina, tossing your bag down with more aggression than necessary. Jay pulled out a chair across from you like he belonged there. Like he had earned the right to haunt your days and ruin your peace. "What's up, study squad? I brought my emotional support bi girl—" You threw him a glare. "—she's emotionally unavailable, but I'm working on it."
You grabbed a pen and pointed it at him. "You are one bad joke away from a highlighter up your nose." Nina snorted, not even looking up from her notes. "You two sound like a married couple." Your head whipped towards her. "Do not put that energy into the universe."
Jay just grinned wider, leaning back in his chair like he was settling in for a movie. "Too late. It’s already there. I feel it. In my loins." Sunghoon choked on his iced coffee. "Bro."
"I'm begging you to shut up." You said, flipping your notebook open and furiously highlighting a sentence you didn't even read. Jay leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in his hand. "You know, if you ever need someone to help you explore your... sapphic journey..." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I can hold the camera. Strictly for support purposes."
Your jaw dropped, and Jungwon smacked him on the arm so fast, it actually made you feel a little bit of peace for two seconds. "Jay. What the hell, man?"
"What?" Jay grinned, unfazed. "It's supportive! Ally behavior!"
"Call yourself an ally again and I’m turning you into a PSA." you said flatly, still not looking up.
"Oh, you like it when I get educational, huh?"
You threw your pen at him.
"Alright..." Nina sighed, flipping a page in the group packet, "We need to split up and do these practice problems in pairs or we are never getting through this in time." You froze, eyes darting to the one person you absolutely refused to acknowledge sitting across from you with a stupid glow of anticipation already blooming on his face.
"No. "you said immediately.
"Yes." Nina said, not even glancing up. "We don't have time for your situationship drama."
"It's not a situationship!" you and Jay said at the same time. His voice was way too enthusiastic. Yours was basically a scream. Jungwon didn't even look up from his notes. "Yeah, okay. Y/N with Jay. Me with Nina. Sunghoon's alone because he keeps ghosting group chats." Sunghoon didn't even deny it.
"No. No. There are four of you and one of me. That means I get to be the floater." You argued, already standing up like you were going to defect to another table. Jay reached across the table and tugged on your sleeve, grinning. "Come on, baby, don't fight fate. Just sit down and let me mansplain some econ to you."
You blinked slowly. "I will file for academic emancipation. I swear to god." But he was already sliding the worksheet over, patting the seat beside him like this was some kind of romantic dinner and not your personal hell. You sat down with the grace of someone about to commit a crime.
"I'm touching you strictly because I have to." You scooted closer only to see the angle of the paper better, but Jay's smirk deepened like you just confessed undying love. "Of course. It’s purely physical."
You groaned.
"Oh my God." you whispered, fingers already massaging your temple in a state of distress. "I'm going to kill you with a stapler." He leaned in, voice low and stupidly flirty.
"Make sure to do it slow."
• • • • •
It was just another regular weekday. Get up, get ready, campus, annoying lectures, get back to your dorm and just pray that tonight you won't be bothered by a nuisance that turns your best days ever into a "wish I worked at a local convenience store and never had the desire to be a woman in STEM so just i wouldn't have met him" type of day.
Ironic much, considering the situation.
Because the universe? The universe loved irony. It loved watching you suffer under the relentless, infuriating, questionably charming presence of Jay.
And as if on cue, as if he was summoned by your very disdain, your phone buzzed and grabbed your attention from the Netflix show playing on your laptop. You rolled your eyes, pausing the episode and pushing the thick blankets off of you. Grabbing the phone off the charger your lips immediately dropped into a frown.
ignore: are you home?
ignore: because I feel like your building misses me. And by "your building" I mean your door. And by "misses me" I mean "cries softly when I don't show up"
You stared at the message like it personally wronged you. Words on the screen already hitting your nervous system, stare blank and deadpan. A number of things you were debating on sending back to that crossed your mind but still you optioned for the most mellow thing. Even if you should have written the worst.
You: if I pretend I moved to another country, will you stop texting me?
ignore: no. I will just start learning the language
You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed and collapsing beside it face-first. You should've never gone to that party three months ago when he just transferred. You should've never laughed at that dumb joke he made about your "intense main character energy". You should've told him you were in a committed relationship with your GPA and had no room for men who wore leather jackets unironically and gave people pet names like it was his full-time job.
You should've blocked him.
The knock at your door came exactly a minute later. You didn't dare to move, praying that it was just the wind or your brain giving you early signs of schizophrenia. Then your phone buzzed again. You clasped your hands together in a prayer, sitting up straight and closing your eyes shut tight "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven—"
Knock. Knock.
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us—"
"Babygirl..." His voice came from the other side, muffled but still so him. "If you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I will start singing outside like a Disney prince with abandonment issues."
And he started singing. You winced, each note worse than the last. You huffed in defeat, before you flung the door open before he hit the third note of what was shaping up to be a very aggressive rendition of A Whole New World. He blinked at you, screaming stopping as he held a chip bag in one hand, obnoxious smile ready to go. "See? I knew you missed me."
"Are you insane?! It's freaking 12 am! People are sleeping!" You whisper yelled but no use. Jay walked right by you and stepped in like he owned the place, dropping the chips on your desk and flopping backward onto your bed without hesitation. You fumed at that, taking in a deep breath. "You know—" He said, staring at your ceiling like it held the answers to the universe. "I dreamed about you last night." You didn't turn around. "Was I pushing you off a cliff?"
"No." he said, voice mock-wounded. "You were holding my hand and telling me I was the best mistake you ever made." You turned around just enough to glare at him, his expression still playful"And then I woke up crying." he added with a sniffle, dramatically wiping a nonexistent tear. "Because you left me for a barista named Luca."
"…Good. I hope I leave you for two baristas named Luca." Jay grinned, already with an answer that knew will tip you over the edge. "Threesome?" You threw a pillow at him so hard it knocked his smug ass off the bed.
God this is a nightmare.
• • • • • •
The lawn is calm, scattered with students lying on blankets or half-asleep in the grass. It’s the kind of weather that makes you forget about deadlines—warm sun, light breeze, the low hum of campus life in the background.
You and Nina are sitting on a thin blanket under a tree that’s barely giving any shade, your iced coffees melting fast beside you. A couple of wrappers rustle in the wind, and someone nearby is playing guitar badly enough to ruin the mood, but it’s still peaceful.
"I swear to God, if Professor Bart assigns one more presentation, I’m gonna present my will to live." Nina mutters, scribbling something violently in her planner. You hum. "You'll still make it look aesthetic."
"Obviously." She exhales through her nose and flips the page. "If I'm miserable, at least I’ll be color-coded." You glance over her shoulder at the neat highlighter lines and clean handwriting, eyebrows raised in stunnes. "This is actually terrifying."
Nina doesn’t look up. "It's survival. If I don't control this, I'll spiral." You don't argue. You both know the feeling. She closes the planner finally moving it to the side as she took a breather and leaned back onto her hands, face tilted toward the sun. "Do you ever think we are not built for this?"
You stretch out beside her on the patchy lawn, your arm brushing hers. "Every single day."
There's a pause. Not heavy, not awkward. Just quiet.
"I could sleep right here." Nina mumbles, closing her eyes in enjoyment of the warm sun rays. "Just dissolve into the grass." You squint at her, shifting to pluck a weed near your shoe. "Must be nice. I can't even blink without a certain idiot finding new ways to annoy me." She grins like she's been waiting for this, She cracks one eye open. "You talking about your favorite person?" You scoff. "Jay is not— God, I can't go one day without him breathing down my neck. Who volunteers for a group project and then refuses to do it unless we're in the same room?"
"No, but seriously. If I had Jay drooling over me like that, I'd... I don’t know. Start charging him rent."
You groan. "Don’t start."
"I'm just saying." she sings, stretching her arms behind her. "It's giving... situationship. It's giving banter and unresolved sexual tension."
"It's giving restraining order." You shoot back.
Nina cackles, rolling to her side. "So what's the deal, then? You're not into him?" You looked back at her, your face alone giving enough of an answer with the done expression. "You're blushing."
"No I'm not."
"No seriously," Nina was not giving up, now laying down onto the blanket and turning onto her stomach. "You never thought about —"
"Whatever you wanted to say the answer is no." You immediately cut her off, eyes shooting glares at her. "But like he is so down astronomical. It’s honestly impressive."
"He's annoying." You mutter. "You could just tell him to stop." You fall quiet for a second, thinking back to the event that took place just a while ago, and was actually occurring pretty regularly. " I did. " Nina blinks at you. "...And?"
"He said ‘ten-four, princess’ and sent me a selfie with finger hearts." She snorts. "That sounds about right." The silence stretched again, until your phone buzzes. It's face-up on the blanket. You glance at it, and everything in you just... stills.
Mom
No emojis, no hearts. Just bland. Mom.
You don't move. Don't say anything. The lightness from seconds ago vanishes. Nina notices the silence first. Her voice drops, so used to this reaction from you and just already assuming. "That her?" You nod. Slowly. Then reach out and flip the phone face-down without a word.
The buzz stops. So does the conversation.
Nina's quiet for a moment. Then, softly — "You okay?"
You shrug, everything in you a flat line. "Yeah. I'm fine. Probably just her checking if I'm still alive. "
She doesn’t push. Just changes the subject like she knows you’d rather not. Something dumb about campus drama. Something forgettable. But your mind's not really in it anymore. Not after that name on the screen.
• • • • • •
"Was is cappuccino again?"
"Yeah." You answered to your coworker on the other side of the bar, eyes stuck on a computer as you typed in the order from the table that just sat down. The sound of steamer and the smell of espresso stinging at your senses that were already used to it. Your legs felt sore and worn out, muscles stinging at every move. At moments like this, quiting part timing seemed pretty tempting, but you couldn't even if you wanted to.
"Done." The boys voice snapped you out of your revision of the tables served as you grabbed the empty tray and skillfully arranged the drinks that needed to be delivered to costumers. The blonde boy observed your tired face, your sighing only making him feel worse for you. "You know... It won't hurt to take a day off sometimes, especially when have classes to attend." He spoke slightly humoriously, adding a light smile at the end.
You didn't dare to look him in the eye, annoyance rising in you for no specific reason. Everything almost making you crash out right then and there. "In my case it would Jongseob. Tuition is not something I need to play with right now, is it?" Your sharp answer made him realise the weight of your situation actually, even if he heard some parts of it from other coworkers already. He hummed back as you were already turning around to serve the rest of the café.
Just two more hours Y/N, just two more.
"Fucking hell we are done!" You answered back as you let your head smack against the table in front of you, cash nitely arranged on it, calculated and the tips divided. It was a hell of a shift, the clock ticking at 12:30 am as the bottles of drinks rattled whilst Jongseob was obviously stocking up the fridge for the morning shift. You stretched your limbs, cracking your neck side to side, huff leaving your mouth. You wanted nothing but to go back to your dorm room and fall into a deep sleep.
You gathered all the money up, heading behind the bar to leave it in the regular place, bending down to it. "Jongseob, your tip is here at the bar, do you have the keys-"
The words caught in your throat when he bent down at the same time you reached forward. His shoulder brushed against your side, solid and warm even through your shirt. You were about to step back, but he straightened too fast and nearly collided with you, the sudden nearness making your breath hitch.
Your hand shot out to steady yourself and landed on his arm. The fabric of his sleeve was damp from melted ice, but beneath it was the unmistakable heat of him. His face was close enough that you could see the faint shine of sweat at his temple, the sharp line of his jaw, and that flicker in his eyes when he realized how close you were.
Neither of you moved right away. The hum of the fridge and the faint clinking of bottles filled the space while you both stood suspended in the too-tight air. When you finally let go, it felt deliberate, almost reluctant, as if the silence you broke by stepping back was heavier than the touch itself. The sudden silence and tension took you aback. Well that was weird.
"Yeah, I have the keys." He answered back. "You can go, I will stay and finish everything up." You were already untiying your apron, getting ready to head to the back and change until two figures caught your attention through the front glass. Hate to admit it was Jungwon with Jay by his side, talking and laughing while just passing by with no obvious intention of walking inside, thank God.
Just as you were about to turn around, Jay snapped his head towards the bar, a big smile of amusement making it's way on his lips, he stopped in his tracks and got close to the glass, waving uncontrollably. You groaned, throwing your head back in response, knowing that now he is gonna wait on you, even walk you to your dorm since it was not the first time this happened. He started sending flying kisses, throwing random hearts at you.
A nightmare in it's true form, really.
"Umm, I think your boyfriend is—"
"He is not my boyfriend—"
"Why is he twerking?"
"Because he is clinically unwell." Just as he was about to break down another choreo, Jungwon smacked his arm, trying to hold back his laugh as he pulled at Jay's sleeve trying to make him move. He luckily stopped. "You know... I will help you finish up the rest of the stocking up." All of a sudden staying here for the next thirty minutes didn't seem so bad, considering the fact that you most likely would have to deal with Jay somewhere on the way to campus. Jongseob hummed in response as you already made your way towards the fridges right past him and it did not take him that long to join you.
Locking the café never felt this good. The image of it closed and dark brought an unexplained feeling of calmness and peace to your being. Grabbing the phone from your pocket you checked the time. 1:02am and an unread messages from Jay. Great. If you went just when you planned you would have already been in your bed snuggled up with your pillows and blankets. But universe had other plans like always. "Tommorow the manager will not be at the shift change, you can come in later, I can handle it alone for two three hours, it mostly empty around that time too." Jongseob said as he placed the keys in his pocket, blowing out a breath in the cold air, the cloud of it dissappearing into the night. The boy was just too sweet and endearing, it made you tilt your head at him, the feeling of quilt seeping into you slowly. He was also a part timer, had classes to attend just like you did. It would be unfair.
"Jongseob, you have classes too. You can't always try to make it easier for others you know? Put yourself first sometimes." He fully turned to you, hands in his hoodie pockets, his fresh blonde hair framing his face under the street light making it goldenish, his blush placement adorably complimenting his cheeks and nose. " You think I don't know that when you work with Sora that she comes three hours late. Always."
"Yeah I can be a people pleaser sometimes..." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, eyes wandering around. "Sometimes?" He chuckled at that, raising his hands in the air by his head. "Okay you got me." You smiled at it, shaking your head in slight disapproval getting ready to flee the scene as soon as possible, sleep being the only thing on your mind. "Well Jongseob, I will see you tomorrow then. At exactly three pm." Just as you were about to walk off, his soft voice made you halt your step. "Wait-Umm..."
You turned to him again, nodding your head at him. "Well I was thinking, maybe..." Oh. You can sense already where this is going. "I mean, I was thinking about this for a while..." He stood there before you, his eyes looking down at your slightly shorter frame, hands now in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders appeared tenser. "Do you maybe— want to go out? Sometimes! It doesn't have to be like a date or something—"
You giggled at his sudden contradiction, trying to sound friendly if he got rejected just in case. You moved a step closer, "Yeah, why not..." He smiled at you, his cute snuggle tooth peeking from the corner of his lips. "See you tomorrow then Y/N."
And he slowly moved backwards as he waved one last time and made his way in the other direction. You were left gagged, mouth slightly opened as you followed his figure get lost in the distance. Eyes narrowed before you shook your head with a smile. What the hell was that? And why were you slightly flustered?
• • • • • •
The library annex smells like highlighters, stale coffee, and stress. You are curled into the corner of a long rectangular table, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, hair pulled back like it's physically keeping you from snapping. Nina's beside you, reading something off her tablet. Dani, Nina's roommate is across from you, chewing gum like it owes her money. And of course—
"Hey."
Jay.
He slides into the chair next to you with the subtlety of a crashing plane. You don't answer. You just keep flipping through the pages of your psych reader like you didn’t hear him. Like the sound of his voice didn’t just spark a full-body sigh of annoyance deep in your chest. He leans over a little, grinning. "You didn't respond to my meme last night."
"Because it wasn't funny."
"You still saw it."
"Unfortunately."
Dani snorts from across the table. "Y'all flirt like middle schoolers."
"I'm not flirting." You snap. "She's not flirting," Jay echoes, a hand over his heart like he's offended." She's bullying me. There's a difference."
"There's no difference if you are into it." You mutter. He raises his brows. "So you do know I'm into you." You look at Nina like you’re asking her to pass you a weapon. She just smirks and sinks deeper into her hoodie. The group settles into a light buzz of activity — or, more accurately, people trying to study while Jay hums softly under his breath and taps his pen against the table like it's a damn drumline. "Do you have to do that?" You hiss, flicking your eyes at him.
He stops. For two seconds. Then switches to tapping his fingers. "Seriously?" He grins at you, eyes bright, unbothered. "I study better with rhythm."
"You live to annoy me."
"No..." he says, leaning in slightly, voice lower. "I live to see how far you will go before you lose it completely. It's a beautiful thing." You glare at him. He holds your gaze, a little too long, a little too calm.
It's Dani who breaks the silence, flipping a page aggressively. "Okay, lovers. Dial it down. Some of us actually need to pass tomorrow's quiz." You scoff. Jay just chuckles under his breath, turning his attention to his own textbook. The corner of his mouth is still tilted upward.
Jay stayed abnormally quiet for the last hour, actually studying and giving you all the piece and quiet you all deserved, Jungwon and Sunghoon even joined just a couple of minutes ago, like always.
"Hi." A light voice spoke as the figure strutted by you grabbing your attention, your head snapping towards the person. Jongseob. His cute smile making your mouth corners rise. "Hi." You whispered back, eyes moving down to scan his outfit. The crop top shirt he wore ended just at start of his v line that was lowering into his baggy jeans that were held up by the belt. The silver bracelets he wore glowing against his pale skin and veiny arms. Oh God.
"Got the day off huh?" One of his hands grabbed at the chair you sat at, looking down at you from the side and noticing your wandering eyes. "Manager insisted. You too?" He slightly chuckle, nodding back with a tight lipped smile. "We could, you know, hang out tonight. If you are down?" The proposition took you aback, but you nodded right away, something deeper in you making you move, you yourself being confused. "Great. Imma text you later. See ya then." And he walked away, his figure already by the library door and he was out.
What you didn't notice was Jay's shocked and disgusted face. Mouth open, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at your whole interaction, from start to finish, not a thing went unnoticed. Your gaze scanning the boy, answering like you were in a trance.
It can't be.
If there was one thing Jay was good at, it was being overly dramatic. Before he knew it his head was between his hands, staring at now meaningless notes infront of him.
"Quick Sunghoon! Get the bromazepam!"
Sunghoon blinked slowly, not even lifting his eyes from his phone. "Bro, what?"
"I'm having a full-blown crisis right now!" Jay hissed, his voice a little too loud for a library. "Did you see that?! She was basically undressing him with her eyes!" Jungwon snorted, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think that's what happened."
You frowned, head snapping up from your book. "What the hell are you on about? I wasn't doing anything." Jay whipped his head toward you, scandalized. "Oh my God, you are actually going to sit there and lie to my face?!" You squinted, genuinely confused. "Lie? We were literally just talking. He asked if I wanted to hang out, I said yes. That's it."
From across the table, Nina and Dani both exchanged a look so loaded it made your stomach twist. Nina lifted her brows like — Really? That's it? While Dani bit back a smirk, twirling her pen between her fingers.
"What?" You demanded, eyes flicking between them. "Nothing..." Nina sang, gaze flicking back to her notes with way too much fake innocence. Dani chuckled under her breath. "Yeah, nothing… except maybe the way you looked at him like he was your last meal."
Your jaw dropped. "I did not!"
Jay slammed his fist against the poor table, voice cracking. "THANK YOU. I thought I was losing my damn mind!"
"I wasn't—" You tried again, heat creeping up your neck, but the words fell flat when Nina gave you a knowing side-eye over the rim of her coffee cup. "You know what—" You rolled your eyes, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of what most of the table was a witness to, trying to play the nonchalant card. "Can you not narrate my life like you are auditioning for some reality show? Nobody cares."
Jay turned on you, eyes wide, hand over his chest like you stabbed him. "Nobody cares?! I care! I care too much!"
"Clearly. "Sunghoon muttered, not looking up. Jay ignored him, gesturing wildly at you. "So what—what was that? You are just gonna… what? Say yes to a date with Jongseob out of nowhere? With his veiny arms and his—his stupid bracelets that look like he raided a Claire's?"
Jungwon chuckled under his breath. "You're so jealous it's painful."
"I'm not jealous!" Jay snapped, his voice cracking at the end like a dying violin. Three heads turned at him from nearby tables, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. "For fuck's sake, lower your voice." Jay slumped dramatically in his chair, throwing his pen down like he'd lost a war. "Unbelievable. Out of all the people in this godforsaken campus, you pick him? You wouldn't even let me carry your bag last week, but crop-top-boy breathes near you and suddenly you are free Saturday night?"
You leaned forward, glaring daggers at him. "Jay, I swear to God, if you don't shut up and let me finish this chapter—"
Jungwon and Sunghoon burst out laughing, Jungwon nearly falling out of his chair while Sunghoon muttered. "Bro, she hates you so much."
Jay just sat there, lips pressed together, looking both heartbroken and furious at the same time. His knee bounced under the table, his pen tapping restlessly as he stared at you like he was trying to figure out what spell Jongseob had cast over you.
And you? You went right back to your book like nothing happened.
• • • • • •
The door slammed shut behind you both, mouths messily colliding, bodies flush. His hands exploring your body with such impatience. The moonlight that was coming through the window was the only illunination you could possibly have. Neither way it was not needed. Definetly not needed.
His moans that he released into your mouth as you tugged at his long blonde locks sent shivers down your spine, your core aching with need. He pushed you into the wall, your back harshly meeting the cold surface, making you gasp. He detached his lips from yours, licking at the remains of your saliva on his own as he scanned your face. Lips swallow, hair messy, the makeup you put on smudge just enough to give him whiplash.
His eyes dropped to your cleveage, the tight top your decided to put on hugging you just right. Just as he was busy checking you out, your hands grabbed at his face, pulling him into a deep kiss. Mouths opening and tongues fighting as he pressed himself against you hard, hands already unbuckling your belt that held up your jeans. Your hands dropped around his neck, feeling his Adam's apple and the slender neck, shoulders that were covered by his simple white T-shirt, everything. The kiss was so messy that the saliva dripped down your chins, right between you and onto your chest, making him transfer his kisses down your neck and right onto your cleaveage, tongue out and licking all the mess up there was. You moaned, still trying to contain yourself since the dorms on both side of you were occupied, but who knows how long you could keep it up.
His teeth met your sensitive flesh between them, experimentaly pulling at it slighly, indents digging hard. And it made you arch right into him, his hands holding at your waist, his face still onto your breasts, kissing and biting in tandem. Your hands flew and entangled themselves into his hair pushing him more into your chest, eyes now dropping to look at him as your hands were faster then ever grabbing at the straps of your tight shirt and pulling them down your arms before pushing it under your chest , revealing your bra to him.
Jongseob eyes sparkled at it, gaze moving up to look at you but was only met with your lust filled face, mouth open, eyes lidded. His hands were quickly onto your breasts, squeezing them hard, massaging them over the restricting material as he moved down. Your whimpers filled the room, slight breathy moans left your parted lips as you threw your head back against the wall, eyes closed. His knees hit the ground and your face immediately snapped down. He was kissing your covered stomach, hands leaving your chest alone as he unzipped your pants, pulling them down and revealing your legs, inch by inch. You kicked them to the side, stepping out of them, and before you knew it his palms were on your hips, eyes hungrily scanning your underwear.
And just like that, his tongue was caressing your covered pussy, you gasped, hips involuntarily bucking into his mouth. "Fuck..." You murmured under your breath, the feeling of his wet muscle sliding over your swollen clit, diving between your folds just right. He grabbed one of your thighs, bringing it over his shoulder and it brought a whole new world. His mouth engulfed your heat, tongue sliding up and down over the drenched underwear, saliva mixing with your arousal. His eyes went up to you the moment your hands entangled in his hair again. Fingers pulling at roots, controling his movement as you used his tongue how you liked it.
You moans echoed the small room, Jongseob was not taking his eyes off of you, nor were you taking yours off of his. The eyes contact made it feel surreal, heavenly even. The tension, his tongue out as you pulled him just the way you like over your covered slit. And you could feel it. You were close. "Faster, please do it faster!" You begged, arm getting tired of controlling the poor boys head and he smirked. You almost cried our at the feeling, gasps leaving your parted lips. Almost. So close.
He pulled away.
Your teary eyes looked at him, chest heaving up and down, mouth barely getting the breaths out. He was quick onto his feet, grabbing at your wait as he pulled you towards him, mouth meeting yours in a heated messy kiss. You did not waste time in hooking one of your legs on his hip, hands exploring his chest. You felt the hardness against you and a moan slipped out, right into his filthy mouth. You could taste yourself on him, tangy and sweet. Just before your hand moved lower he spun you around. You gasped, now your front pressed against the wall. He kissed your exposed shoulder leaning over to your ear. "Won't you let me have my turn now? Hm?"
He asked in a sweet voice, almost baby talking to you as he pressed himself against you, his cock pressing against your lower back, making you grind your hips back at him in desperation. He chuckled lowly. "I let you have your fun with my mouth, don't your think it would be unfair..." His voice trailed lower, lips brushing your ear. "…if I didn't get to ruin you with my cock too?"
All this felt surreal. This shouldn't be happening. Not now, not never.
You shivered, your knees nearly buckling as his hand slid from your waist to grip your hip tightly, holding you in place. The hardness pressing against your lower back made your mouth fall open, another breathless moan spilling out before you could stop it. "God, you're already grinding on me." He teased, laughing low in your ear. His fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to turn your head just enough for his lips to ghost over yours. "So needy. You really want it, don't you?"
Your answer came in a choked whisper, your body arching back into him.
"Yes… please—"
That was all he needed. He smirked against your cheek, hand slipping down your front, between your thighs, brushing over the damp heat of your underwear making your body shudder. "Mm. Begging so sweetly… guess I'll give you what you want." His fingers teased over the thin fabric, the pressure just enough to make your thighs twitch. You whined, pushing your hips back harder, needing more friction.
"Tsk..." He clicked his tongue, gripping your jaw again to keep you against the wall. "Impatient little thing. Can't even wait, huh?" His words were sharp, but the low groan in his throat betrayed how badly he wanted you too. You gasped when his hand slipped under your waistband, his fingers sliding against your wetness, parting you with obscene ease." Fuck. " He muttered against your shoulder, lips pressing hot, messy kisses down your skin. " Already this soaked just from grinding on me?"
Your head thudded lightly against the wall as his fingers curled inside you, stretching you just enough to make your knees tremble. His other hand stayed locked on your hip, anchoring you in place while his own hips pressed forward, cock straining against his jeans, grinding into the curve of your ass.
"Say it again." He whispered, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Say you want me."
"I— I want you, Jongseob— please—" You choked out, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming heat of it all. He groaned like he'd been waiting to hear it forever, pulling his fingers out just to grab at his zipper with shaky urgency. The sound of his jeans sliding down filled the space, your body already pressing back into him before he even freed himself. He moaned at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around his cock, he bit his bottom lip, stroking himself. Moans spilled from you, thighs too slippery not even allowing you to rub them in search of some kind of relief. You whined, one pf your hands slipping down right into your underwear, fingers meeting with the swollen aching clit and you gasped, hips bucking into your own hand. Jongseob couldn't keep it together anymore, his hand quickly dug into his pocket, searching for the small foil sachet and ripped it open with his teeth.
He was burning up, his cheeks flushed and hot. His hand skillfully put it on, the latex gripping him. You felt his drenched hand pull your ruined underwear to the side and you grinned to yourself, bottom lip between your teeth.
And he streched you, your nails scraped lightly against the wall, forehead pressed against the cool surface and eyes closing in delight. A moan left his plump lips, his chest pressing against your back, breathing right by your ear, one forearm flat against the wall, supporting him. "Move please, fuck —" He hips pulled back and he slammed back in, hard. "Stop begging so much, 'm gonna cum just from it..." His desperate and whiny voice spoke, arising goosebumps on your skin. So hot.
His eyes were closed, mouth agape as breathy moans left it with every thrust, you were no better. A mess, you could feel the wetnees dripping down your thighs, making his thrusts almost too slippery, echoing through the stale night as he speed up. His face twisting in pleasure, His arm slid under you, dragging you back against his chest until you could feel every jagged breath spill from his lips. The rhythm grew rougher, wetter, his thrusts smacking into you so hard the wall rattled. Then, with a frustrated groan, he bent lower, his hand hooking around your thigh. In one swift motion he lifted your knee, pressing it higher against the wall to open you up for him.
The new angle made you cry out, voice breaking as he bottomed out so deep you swore you could feel him in your lungs. His grip tightened on your leg, holding it there, forcing you to take every hard snap of his hips. "There—fuck, right there." He gasped, mouth hot against your ear as his moans tumbled out without control. Each thrust was sharper, grinding right against that spot that had your whole body shivering, nails clawing helplessly at the wall.
He was a mess behind you, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open, the desperate slap of skin filling the room as his pace turned erratic. "You're clenching so—shit—you're gonna make me lose it." He whined, rutting harder, fingers digging bruises into your thigh as he held it high.
You hissed, your legs and thighs burning but still, your body was hungry for this. The stretch had your muscles trembling, but the way he drove into you at that angle made the ache blur into pure bliss. Every thrust punched a ragged sound out of you, the wall doing nothing to muffle your cries.
"Fuck, you're taking me so good." He whined again, voice breaking as his hips smacked against you, unrelenting. You moaned in response, his grip on your thigh tightened, forcing it higher, spreading you open until you could feel nothing but him filling you to the brim. His chest pressed flush to your back, his teeth dragging over the shell of your ear before he bit down just enough to make you gasp.
Your body clenched around him, messy and soaked, each snap of his hips pulling you closer to that edge. Your nails scraped harder against the wall, forehead pressed tight to the cool surface as your moans rose, broken, needy. "God—yes, right there, don't stop—" You begged, voice high and needy, every syllable trembling as he drove into you harder. Behind you, his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as a desperate, guttural sound tore out of him. "I'm not—fuck, I'm not gonna last like this." He panted, his thrusts rougher, deeper, chasing his high with everything he had.
Your breath hitched, the pace roughening until every thrust sent sparks rattling through your body. The air between you was thick, sticky with sweat and the sound of skin meeting skin. His grip on your raised thigh tightened, nails digging crescents into your flesh as he held you wide open, unrelenting. "Shit—you feel too good." He rasped, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips crashed into you with reckless urgency. Your body bowed against the wall, your voice spilling out in ragged, pleading cries you couldn't hold back even if you tried.
The angle had you unraveling, every drag of him hitting where you needed it most, building that pressure until you were trembling, teeth sinking into your lip hard enough to sting. "Please—don't stop, don't—"
He groaned, voice raw, chest pressed flush to your back now as if he needed every inch of you. His pace broke into sharp, desperate thrusts, chasing the inevitable, every move sloppier, rougher, his restraint shattering as you clenched down harder around him. Your vision blurred at the edges, the world reduced to the frantic rhythm of his hips and the molten heat coiling in your belly, seconds away from snapping.
"I'm coming I—" You sobbed, palms sweaty and dragging down the wall as your body gave in first—back arching off the wall as the pressure in your belly snapped, a sharp cry spilling from your lips. You clenched down around him, pulsing, the force of it dragging him with you.
"F–fuck, that's it, that's—" His voice cracked, hips jerking deep one last time before he stilled, a guttural groan torn from his chest as he spilled hot inside the latex. The way you tightened around him only made it worse, had him grinding through it, shaking, like he couldn't get enough.
Your forehead pressed harder into the wall, nails clawing uselessly at the surface as wave after wave wracked you, messy and overwhelming. He was no better—panting ragged into your shoulder, his grip on your thigh trembling but unyielding.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was both of you—harsh, uneven breaths, the faint wet drag of him still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks. Your legs trembled violently, but he kept you steady, forehead pressed to your damp skin.
And fuck your life because this was something you definitely won't be telling to anyone.
• • • • •
Sunghoon's apartment was a mess of half-empty snack bags, tangled charging cables, and the faint smell of takeout. Sunghoon was on the couch scrolling through his phone, Jungwon was on the floor trying to beat his high score, and Jay… Jay was leaning against the counter, casually pretending to be chill.
"So, pineapple belongs on pizza." Sunghoon said, not looking up.
"Absolutely not." Jungwon said, crunching on a chip. "It's a crime against humanity." Jay suddenly spoke. "Speaking of crimes…"
"Uh oh... "Sunghoon said, glancing at him." Here we go."
"Jongseob..." Jay blurted suddenly, pacing like he’d just uncovered a conspiracy. "He's bagging Y/N..."
"Wait, what?" Jungwon said, frozen mid-laugh. "Bro..." Sunghoon rolled his eyes and, locking his phone as he let himself lay on his side, already sensing the topic and getting himself ready for the rest. "Like what? Out of everyone?"
"He is with me in the Fine Art class. Also, aren't they like working together—"
"Yes Jungwon! Thank you so much for reminding me that they could be going at it 8 hours a day!"
"That's not—"
"THANK YOU I SAID." Jay closed his eyes, breathing through his nose so loudly that made Sunghoon roll his eyes again. "Jay you don't even know if she is into him." Sunghoon added on, trying to at least make it better. Key word. Try.
"Are we talking about the same interaction today?"
"Jay you are being overly dramatic. Like always." Jungwon had to say.
"You are telling me she is getting railed by that lesbian looking man right now?! I can feel it in my bones!" Jay plopped onto the floor, face in his hands due to the disbelief of the situation he is in, evidently stressed. "Well, technically she is partially lesbian —"
"Sunghoon it's really not helping..." Jay groaned, poking at the floor with his finger like it was Jungwon's fault. "Yeah, you are kinda feeding the hysteria at this point." Jungwon said, leaning back on his elbows, grinning. "She could literally be talking about the weather and you'd still have a meltdown."
"I would not!" Jay shot back, flopping onto his side dramatically, like he might pass out from sheer injustice. "I'm just… emotionally invested in her wellbeing!" Sunghoon snorted, tossing a chip at him. "You mean your own ego." Jay caught it midair. "Semantics! Look, she doesn't deserve to get swept up by… by… what did you call him?"
"Jongseob. "Jungwon supplied.
"Right! Jongseob! That guy is—he's smooth, he's soft-spoken, he's—he's everything I cannot compete with! And Y/N… she's actually looking—" Jay's voice cracked halfway, and he buried his face into his arms again.
"Bro, calm down." Sunghoon said, chuckling. "She's just talking to him. You are acting like they are getting married or something."
"I cannot calm down!" Jay yelled, rolling over dramatically. "I'm living in the era of femboy catastrophes, and Y/N is out there… laughing… with him!" Jungwon groaned, covering his face. "Oh my god, you are impossible."
"You are telling me!" Jay pointed at him. "This is the most tragic betrayal since that time I had to share a soda with a stranger at a concert!" Sunghoon laughed so hard he nearly rolled off the couch. "You really need to chill. And can we really stop talking about her? Like, I think I'm staring to miss her too from how much you are mentioning her."
"I agree." Jungwon added on, his eyes on his phone again as he continued to a new game. Jay on the other hand. Devastated, staring at the wall with a pout.
"Soo, next week the fraternity is organizing the big party." Sunghoon added on, phone again in his hand finally enjoying a little of peace and quiet. "Yup. Hey I forgot! Jeno asked if we could get the speakers. I told him I would have to see about it—"
The night continued with a bunch of random talks and slight bickering like always, Jay finally cheering up and challenging Jungwon for a rematch in Mario Kart that he lost early in the night right before his little moment with Sunghoon passing out on the couch.
• • • • • •
"So what's the deal?" Nina asked you with a little to sheepish of a smile on her face, not even waiting for you to plop yourself next to her on the cold metal bench. "What?" You asked confused, eyes furrowing just as your back met the backrest. "You and Jongseob. Spill."
"Oh."
She was already turned to you, eyes squinted. "Well, nothing is happening. We just hang out after he asked me."
Nina snorted, leaning forward like you just told the funniest joke of the night. "Yeah, because guys our age only ask girls to hang out out of pure friendship, right? Totally platonic. No ulterior motives at all. Yup."
You shoved her shoulder. "Shut up, we literally just smoke and talk sometimes. It's not a big deal. We literally work together too."
Her grin only widened. "Not a big deal for sure...except you’ve been walking around like someone finally slipped serotonin into your coffee for the last week. Don't think I haven't noticed."
You scoffed, trying to play it off. "You're so dramatic. I've been the same."
Nina tilted her head, lips curling. "Uh-huh. So the sudden good mood has nothing to do with late-night ‘smoking and talking’ sessions with a very hot coworker?"
You looked away too fast. That was mistake number one.
Mistake number two was the silence that followed.
Nina's eyebrows shot up, and her voice dropped, amused but softer. "Oh my god. Did something… happen?"
Your mouth opened and shut, but you couldn't get words out. You picked at your nails, shrugged like it might make the heat in your face disappear. "Not really. I mean… it's not like that."
"Right," she said slowly, clearly not believing a word. "So if it's not like that, then why are you avoiding the question?" You groaned, dragging your hands over your face. "Because you are annoying. That's why."
She laughed, nudging you with her knee. "Relax. I'm not judging you. Honestly? I think it's good. I like seeing you… like this." Her tone softened in a way that made you freeze. "It's been forever since you looked even half interested in someone after—"
Nina didn't say her name, but she didn't have to. Your chest tightened. You turned your eyes down to the ground, the sounds of other students filling the heavy silence between you two. Nina caught herself, sighing. "I'm just saying, you deserve to move on. And if hanging out with him makes you smile like an idiot, then… I'm glad."
Hanging out. Yeah.
You didn't know what to say to that. The words lodged somewhere between your ribs and throat, too heavy to let out. So instead, you just went quiet, staring at the pavement, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
Nina didn't push again. She just leaned back on the bench, letting the conversation die there, like she knew the wound was still there—even if you didn't want to touch it.
• • • • • •
The late afternoon sun spilled across the quad, catching on the glass windows of the library and painting everything gold. Students were scattered on the grass, some in circles of half-finished assignments, others tossing a football around. Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Jay had claimed their usual spot on the low stone wall under the old oak tree, iced coffees sweating in their hands, halfheartedly pretending to study.
Jay hadn't cracked a smile once. His eyes weren't on the notes in front of him—they were locked across the quad, unblinking.
You.
You were leaned back on the grass with a small group—Nina at your side, two other classmates sprawled out on their stomachs, and Jongseob right there, cross-legged, saying something that made you throw your head back laughing. The kind of laugh that wasn't just polite, but the kind that lifted your shoulders and lingered.
It wasn't a sight the boys were used to.
"Oh, he is hitting it good. " Sunghoon said suddenly, straw hanging between his teeth, voice deliberately loud enough to earn a reaction. His gaze never left the way you nudged Jongseob with your shoulder, still grinning.
Jay whipped his head toward him, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Sunghoon shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just saying. Look at her—smiling, talking everyone's ears off? When’s the last time you saw her like that? Must be his influence." He finished, matter of factly.
Jungwon snickered into his drink, finally glancing up from his phone. "Yeah, I thought she was allergic to people. Guess not." Jay scoffed, shifting uncomfortably on the wall. "She's not allergic. She just… doesn't waste her time on idiots."
"Except apparently this one. " Sunghoon muttered under his breath. Jay shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass, but Sunghoon only smirked back.
Jungwon, sensing the tension, decided to stir the pot further. "I mean, she's never like that with us. With us she's, you know… grumpy. Cynical. Classic her." He tilted his head toward the scene across the quad.
Jay didn't answer. His jaw tightened, knuckles whitening as he gripped his coffee cup. He kept his eyes on you, on the way you leaned closer when Jongseob spoke, the way your knee brushed his like you didn't even notice. The sight dug under his skin in a way he couldn't explain—not to them, not even to himself. Sunghoon leaned back on his elbows, satisfied with the irritation sparking in Jay's expression.
"Yeah," he said casually, "he's definitely hitting it good."Jay's glare could have set the whole oak tree on fire. The boys' laughter turned into the background noise to Jay, muffled by the thrum in his ears. He didn't blink, didn't move, just watched you lean closer to Jongseob as though the world had shrunk to that patch of grass.
And then—like you felt the weight of it—you turned.
Your gaze cut across the quad and collided with his.
The laugh on your lips faltered, freezing mid-curve, your chest rising with a small breath as your eyes locked with Jay's glare. The distance between you did nothing to dull it. His stare was sharp, hot, threaded with something you couldn't quite read—anger, annoyance, something else buried deeper. The chatter around you went muffled for a second. Nina's voice tugged at your ear, but you couldn’t look away.
Jay didn't look away either.
It was a standoff that lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like it stretched, like the air between you two tightened enough to snap. Your hand shifted on the grass, fingers curling against your knee. For reasons you couldn't explain, your throat felt dry.
Sunghoon, following Jay's line of sight, grinned knowingly. "Oh, look at that... " he murmured. "She caught you staring."
Jungwon perked up, leaning forward to see. His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, damn. She's looking right back."
Jay's jaw clenched, the corner of his lip twitching like he might say something, but he didn't. Instead, he finally dropped his gaze back to his coffee, ripping the straw between his teeth. Across the quad, you blinked and turned back to your group, smile returning but not quite as effortlessly as before.
Still, the echo of his stare lingered, needling at you long after the conversation picked back up around you.
• • • • • •
The dorm lounge is too warm. Too loud. Smells like popcorn, instant noodles, and somebody's cheap vanilla body spray. You sit cross-legged on a bean bag you didn't choose, arms folded like a grumpy cat. There's a horror movie playing on the busted old flat screen — something with terrible jump scares and dialogue written by AI on crack.
Dani insisted on "something fun" and Nina bribed you with snacks to show up. You still think they are trying to set you up. Subtly. Badly.
Jay's on the couch. Of course. Sprawled like he owns the place. "You are sitting all the way over there?" he calls out with faux disappointment. "Yes." You say. "It's called boundaries.'
" It' s called denial." He fires back." But hey, who am I to judge?"
You flip him off without looking.
The rest of the group snickers. It's familiar. They're used to it — the back-and-forth, the barbs. The fact that you haven't murdered him yet is probably a testament to your willpower. Or maybe your low blood sugar.
He throws a gummy bear at your head. You don't flinch. You just glare. "Do that again and I'll shove that bag down your throat."
"Kinky." He mutters.
"Jay..." Dani warns without looking.
"Sorry. She brings it out of me."
Your response is a silent eye roll. Nothing new, nothing extreme.
Half an hour in, you're halfway through a bag of chips and regretting everything. Nina's fallen asleep on Dani's shoulder. The others are locked into the movie, even though it sucks. And you? You can feel Jay's eyes flicking toward you every few minutes like an itch you can't scratch. You streched your limbs over your head, a yawn escaping before a buzz breaks the room's monotony.
Your phone.
The vibration next to your thigh makes you snap your eyes to it. It would have been better if you didn't—because just the mere sight of a message from Mom on your bright screen makes your back straighten like a pulled string.
You stare at it.
Unread.
Unwanted.
Your chest feels heavy anyway.
The screen lights up your face for a second too long, and you can feel it—the subtle shift of attention from your right. Jay's eyes, sharper now, not the lazy flicks he'd been doing before.You swallow, thumb hovering, but you don't open it. You press the lock button instead, watching the glow vanish into black glass, your reflection staring back at you.
You grabbed your half empty water bottle, that did not need the refill, but still you just wanted a moment. A moment of deep breaths that would bring everything back to just as it was before the message. As you pass the couch, Jay's hand reaches up and gently tugs the end of your sleeve. Your steps halted, his voice never softer.
"You good?"
His voice is low. Uncharacteristically quiet. The teasing is gone.
You nod. Not looking at him. "Fine."
He doesn't say anything else. Just lets go.
You head into the tiny kitchen area, gripping your bottle a little too tight. That moment — that shift in tone — it throws you off. You don't like it.
When you return, someone's taken your bean bag. The only open seat is beside Jay. He pats the spot next to him like it's fate. You roll your eyes and sit down anyway.
He doesn't say a word.
You don't either.
But the air between you is different now. The noise of the movie fades out behind it. It's not peace. It's not comfort.
It's tension.
• • • • • •
The library was mostly empty, the late afternoon sun slanting across the tables. You thought you were here to study, using the days off of work in the best you could getting every assignment done in a vague but still enough to pass way. Until Jongseob showed up. He leaned against the edge of the table behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "Hi. " His voice was low but cheerful.
You jumped slightly in your seat, the sudden presence surprising you as the hand rushed to your chest, trying to calm your breathing. "Jongseob damn..." He chuckled lightly his hand brushed your lower back as he bent closer under the guise of "looking at your notes". The brush was casual—too casual. "Is that the assignment you asked me about earlier?"
You hummed back in response, eyes going over the notes in front of you. "I have been reading it for the past thirty minutes, and guess what. I can't even tell what a fucking Aristotel's theory of ethics stand by." In times like this you cursed yourself for choosing the sociology as your major. You could have went into engineering, medicine, maybe even architecture would have been easier. Even bussiness even if it meant having to look at one face you hoped won't jump out the corner of your hall everytime you exited your dorm. He hummed in response, eyes going over the highlighted words, actually scanning them before he spoke. "Aristotle's ethics isn't that complicated. It's basically about finding the balance—virtue as the middle ground between two extremes."
You should've been listening. You should've been grateful he was actually helping, because God knew you needed it. It wasn’t the contact itself. It was the smell. Something clean, sharp—his cologne, maybe, or just his laundry detergent—that hit you all at once. Your stomach tightened before you could stop it.
Because it was the same smell that had clung to your shirt after that night.
You blinked, staring hard at the highlighted lines in your notebook, pretending to read them. But your body betrayed you, heat crawling up your neck. It wasn't even about him—it was about what the scent pulled out of you.
"Aristotle’s virtue is basically the middle path..." Jongseob said calmly, tapping the edge of your notebook. He was leaned close, brows furrowed, all concentration—completely unaware of how your brain was spiraling. "See? Right here." Jongseob said, tapping your notebook again pointing to a passage. His voice pulled you back, grounding you.
And then—
"Is he bothering you queen?"
You flinched as Jay's voice carried across the library, way too loud for the quiet space. He strutted between the shelves with a grin plastered across his face, like he rehearsed the line just to embarrass you. His baggy hoodie streched over his form, hiding the waist band of his loose sweatpants. A couple of stray hairs scattered over his forehead with the hood on, obviously the culprit behind the messy hair. One strap of his backpack clinging for it's life on his shoulder.
Jongseob blinked, then laughed softly, back straightening as there was finally some space between you two, his attention now on a newcomer. "Bothering her? I was literally helping her study." Jay shot him a mock-serious glare before turning to you. "Blink twice if you need me to drag him out."
You groaned, eyes shut tight as you threw your head back. "Jay. I really don't have the time for your delusions." You meant it sincerely, you definitely did not need his over the top comments when you already felt like you are drowning in your own misery and the assignments that seemed endless. Not even five cups of hot coffe could bring you up, and you are not even half way done.
Jongseob chuckled again, shaking his head. "We've never talked before, huh? I'm Jongseob. Psych major." He extended his hand casually, no weirdness, no defensiveness, just that calm ease he carried everywhere. But still, the image of Jay twerking in front of the café was not a very pleasant first impression he left on him. Jongseob being the man he is tried his best to hold in his laugh.
Jay eyed the hand like it was suspicious before finally shaking it. "Jay. And don't think I didn't catch you trying to impress her with philosophy talk."
"Pretty sure Aristotle did the heavy lifting." Jongseob said, lips twitching in a half-smile. "Didn't we attend the same class like last year, maybe? Statistics?" The blond boy asked, eyes narrowing in actual recall. Jay's hard stare did not persist. He damn sure did remember sharing the class with him, Jongseobs persona being so outstanding it hurt him.
Pleasant to be around, smiley, soft-spoken, boyish charm, friendly...
Jay listed in his head. The red alarm going off. He squinted his eyes, gaze moving between the two of you, lips pursed. Jay leaned one hip against the edge of the table, close enough that your notes crinkled against his clothes. His grin stayed, but it was edged now—too practiced, too pointed. He completely ignored the question.
"So..."Jay drawled. "Are you her new study buddy? Or do you just make a habit of creeping up on people in empty libraries?" You let out a sharp breath through your nose, too tired to even snap back at him like always.
Jongseob didn't flinch. If anything, he looked amused, still boyishly calm as ever. "I came to help, actually. She asked me about it earlier." Jay's eyes flicked to you, narrowing like you’d just broken some unspoken rule. "Aristotle. Right." He pushed himself off the table, arms crossed." Well, good luck with that. She has the attention span of a goldfish when she's stressed."
You gaped at him, pen pausing mid-spin. "Excuse me?"
"Prove me wrong." Jay teased, voice lilting, but the edge in his stare made your stomach twist. He was playing it off as a joke, but you knew better. He didn't like Jongseob sitting here. Didn't like him leaning close, didn't like the space he was taking up.
Meanwhile, Jongseob only laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "That's fair. Honestly, she was zoning out a little." Your head snapped toward him. "You're not helping." He lifted his hands in surrender, smile tugging at his lips. "Just being honest." Jay smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "See? Even he agrees with me."
You dragged your palms down your face, muttering. "Oh my God, kill me. "
Neither of them heard you—or maybe they did and ignored it. Jay was too busy pretending to size Jongseob up, and Jongseob was too unbothered to notice the silent tug-of-war happening above your head. "Anyway." Jongseob said easily, pushing off the chair, "I'll let you two… uh, do whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between the two of you, then smiled at you again—gentle, uncomplicated. "We can go over the assignment later."
You nodded quickly, more grateful than you wanted to admit. "Yeah. Later."
As soon as he left, Jay slid into the seat beside you, elbows on the table like he owned the place. His eyes cut to your notes, then back to you. "Don’t tell me you actually like his little lecture voice." You stared at him, jaw slack. "Jay. I swear to God—"Your eyes scanned his face in disbelief, ready to spit out something sharper, but then—something shifted.
Maybe it was the quiet of the library pressing down on you, or the way the light slanted just right through the window, dust specks floating around like the air itself was holding its breath. But when your gaze met his, you froze.
His eyes weren't mocking anymore. Not really. They seemed darker, more focused, the grin on his lips still there but not reaching quite as far. It left you unsettled, like you were staring at someone you thought you knew inside and out, only to realize there was another layer you never noticed.
For the first time you let your gaze wander, slower this time, tracing over the slope of his sharp cheekbones, the faint shadow of stubble he hadn't bothered to shave, the way a lock of hair fell just a little too perfectly against his forehead. He was right there, close enough that you could see small dimple you never bothered to see, the faint crease between his brows when he tilted his head at you like he was waiting for something.
Your breath caught, though you masked it by pressing your lips together.
It was ridiculous—you have seen this face a hundred times, maybe more. Laughing, teasing, annoying you endlessly. But right now, you couldn't shake the heat crawling up your neck, the strange weight of being looked at like that. Like the game he always played with you had turned into something else without you deciding on it.
The silence stretched, heavy.
His grin streched wider, like he knew something was up, like he knew you felt something inside of you that you will never admit to. He tapped your pen against your notebook, leaning closer. "Just making sure you know your options, queen."
He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. The chair behind him scrapped against the wooden floor as he raised himself, the backpack still on his shoulder as he made his way between the high shelves, toward the exit.
Your eyes were stuck to the chair he just sat on, a deep exhale leaving your chest. You blinked a couple of times rapidly, eyebrows bouncing once as if that could shake the strange weight pressing down on you.
For a beat, you just sat there. The imprint of Jay's presence clung to the air like static, buzzing in your chest in a way you didn't understand—or didn't want to. You rubbed at your face, palms pressing into your eyes until little stars popped behind your eyelids
What was that?
Your brain scrambled for an answer, anything to explain away the sudden tightness in your throat, the way your pulse had jumped at nothing more than a look. And then it came—the excuse you knew would soothe you. You were exhausted. That was all. Too many late nights, too many assignments piled on top of each other, too much caffeine barely holding you together. Your body was wound so tightly you were starting to see things in shadows, imagine things in silence.
That lingering burn in your skin, the way your stomach flipped—it couldn't mean anything. It was just fatigue playing tricks, turning ordinary eye contact into something it wasn't.
"Yeah. " You whispered to yourself, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes back on your open notebook. "I just need sleep."
• • • • • •
The café was quiet for once. Mid-afternoon lull — no long lines of caffeine-deprived students breathing down your neck, no professors demanding specialty lattes with oat milk "or else". Just the low hum of the espresso machine and the faint scratch of a pencil from a kid in the corner doing calculus. You rubbed at your temple, the words presentation, midterm, and readings still etched into your brain like graffiti. School was eating you alive, and on top of it, you were clocking hours here, pretending to care about foam art when you could barely keep your eyes open.
At least Jongseob made it tolerable.
He was leaning against the counter across from you, arms folded, one eyebrow raised in mock judgment as you fumbled with the grinder. "Don't take this the wrong way." Jongseob said. "But you look like one bad order away from crying into the grinder."
"Shut up. " You said flatly, flicking the switch. "See? That's what I like about you. Always so warm." You shot him a flat look. "Hand me the filter." He slid it across without argument, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
But it didn't erase the buzz at the back of your neck — the one you couldn’t ignore even when the café was dead quiet. Because in one corner, at the window seat, sat Jay. With Jungwon and Sunghoon flanking him like they were filming a bad boy group commercial. He had his head tipped back in a laugh at something Sunghoon said, and you hated the way your stomach twisted. Hated the fact you could feel him there, like a spotlight turned your way.
"Table three wants their macchiato and vanilla latte." Jongseob said, jolting you out of it. He didn't catch where your eyes had gone, thankfully. You nodded, tray in hand, heading toward their booth. Hands clammy all of a sudden, chest tight. Predictably, Jay perked up the second he saw you. His grin was shit-eating, the kind of grin that screamed I've been waiting for this.
"Look at that, princess serves too. Multitalented." He leaned back in his chair, all casual arrogance. "Should I tip you now or later?"
"Later..." You said, placing the cups down with more force than necessary. "Preferably in therapy." Jungwon choked on his drink. Sunghoon coughed to cover a laugh. Jay just grinned wider. "You're welcome, boys." He told them, raising his cup. "Front-row seats to the best part of my day."
You clicked your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you turned on your heels. As you turned to leave, Jay called after you, voice loud enough for half the café to hear.
"Don't work too hard! Wouldn't want femboy over there carrying you home!"
The silence that followed could've swallowed him whole.
Your head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowing. Jungwon was screaming into his sleeve. Sunghoon's face was buried in his hands. You exhaled slowly. "I'm at work, Jay."
The way you said his name — flat, clipped, like a warning shot — almost made him shrink. Almost. Instead, he sat up straighter, grinning like a criminal caught red-handed. "Noted." You said, voice sharp as the snap of a lid on a to-go cup. "Next time you can make your own coffee."
With that, you walked away. But what he didn't see — couldn't see was the way your lip twitched into a smile. Just for a second, a millisecond even, but it happened for the first time in never.
It scared you.
• • • • • •
The dorm was quiet by the time Jay pushed the door open, gym bag slung over one shoulder, shirt sticking damp to his back. The overhead light flicked on with a low hum, and he winced at the ache in his arms. Every muscle screamed at him for that extra set he didn't need to do, the one he'd pushed through anyway because that's just what he did—push.
He dropped his bag by the bed and sank down onto the mattress, elbows resting on his knees. For a moment, all he heard was his own breath, heavy and uneven. The soreness was a good kind of pain, familiar, grounding. But it didn't distract him the way he hoped.
Because even after an hour of running himself into the ground at the gym, his thoughts were still circling the same place.
You.
He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, the hum of the radiator filling the silence. Usually, he could wear his humor like armor—loud, cocky, impossible to miss. It was easier to throw out stupid lines, to tease, to make it look like he was playing around. That's what people expected of him, after all. Jay, the funny one. Jay, the dramatic one. Jay, the guy who always had a remark ready.
But it wasn't a bit. Not when it came to you.
He thought about the way your eyes narrowed at him when you were annoyed, the way you snapped back like you couldn't help yourself, the way your voice softened when you weren't on guard. You got under his skin in ways he couldn't explain. And instead of facing it straight on—saying it plain—he wrapped it in sarcasm, hid it in stupid nicknames, played it off like he was just being himself.
But he wasn't joking. Not really.
Jay dragged a hand down his face and exhaled, trying to let the thoughts go, but they stuck like burrs. Especially when he remembered how you'd looked earlier in the café. Standing behind the counter with Jongseob at your side, moving so easily around him like the two of you had done it a hundred times. It was nothing, he knew that, but jealousy still twisted in his chest, ugly and sharp.
He hated that part. Hated how fast his chest burned at the idea of you laughing at something that wasn't his joke. Even though it never happened in the first place, but still.
Rolling onto his side, Jay reached for his phone on the nightstand. The screen glow lit his face as he scrolled and thumbed open your chat. He could just… not text you. Go to sleep, drink some water, watch a video, literally anything else.
Yeah, no. That wasn't happening.
what are you doing, princess? don’t lie. i’ll know.
The phone landed next to him, the slight huff of laugh escaping him. Realisation actually hit him after so long even though it was plainly obvious and and just in everyone's face. As if he himself wasn't screaming out about you every two hours. Okay, maybe a little too humble, every twenty minutes.
"You have done it now, Park Jay..." He spoke to himself, eyes locked on the ceiling a smirk on his lips as he shook his head in disappointment. "You have clowned yourself."
• • • • • •
Your dorm room was dim except for the weak yellow desk lamp that buzzed faintly like it was on its last legs. You had a textbook open in front of you, a highlighter clutched in your hand, but your eyes were burning and every paragraph looked like the same sentence rewritten a hundred times.
Work had drained you. School was drowning you. And somewhere in between, you’d convinced yourself you could balance it all—like sheer willpower could make up for the fact you were running on four hours of sleep and vending machine granola bars.
You dropped the highlighter and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. God, you needed a reset. Or maybe just twelve uninterrupted hours of not existing.
Your brain, however, had other plans.
Instead of memorizing the theories staring up at you from the page, it spiraled helplessly over the checklist of tomorrow: readings for sociology, a quiz, clocking in at the café, and somehow squeezing in enough sleep not to look like a corpse. The more you thought about it, the heavier it felt pressing down on your chest.
And because your mind was cruel like that, it detoured to Jongseob.
A few nights ago, he'd asked you out—dinner, nothing fancy, just something outside of the café uniforms and coffee stains. His voice had been casual, but you weren't stupid. You knew what it meant. And you shut it down as gently as you could, told him you couldn't, told him you were busy, told him something. The truth was simpler: you'd seen the direction it was heading, and you wanted no part of it.
And maybe you were the villain there. Maybe you had given him a thread of hope in the beginning when your banter blurred lines, when you didn't mind leaning on him to escape your own mess. But the line was clear now. You weren't interested, not in the way he wanted. But he wasn't who your head kept circling back to when the noise of the day finally died down for the last couple nights.
That unwanted spotlight belonged to Jay.
Jay, with his stupid smirk and his endless commentary. Jay, who you told yourself was just an annoyance, an overgrown idiot who thought he was funny. But lately, the word tension followed him around like static. It clung to every exchange, every too-long stare, every remark that shouldn't have made your stomach twist but did.
Because tension was dangerous. Tension meant something was there, whether you wanted it or not. And you didn't want it. You didn't need another complication, another person peeling back layers you worked too hard to keep closed.
But denial didn't erase the way your chest tightened at the thought of him. Or the way his voice still echoed in your head long after you walked away.
What the fuck?
Your mind screamed at you, leading to yourself delivering a light slap to your face. You must be insane.
Your phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up your dim room. You didn't have to look to know who it was. Jay. Sighing, you picked up the highlighter again, directing your useless fouxs back to the book.
It was fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes since the fisrt message and another one made you snap your attention back to the phone. Groaning, you grabbed it aggressively and tapped on the notification.
ignore: what are you doing, princess? don’t lie. i’ll know.
ignore: yo
ignore: wanna grab food?
you: die.
ignore: that’s a maybe. i’m downstairs.
You sit up. No way. You shuffle toward the window and pull back the curtain. There he is. On the front steps of your dorm building. Headphones in, slouched against the wall, looking like he belongs in a coming-of-age movie you'd hate-watch.
You should leave him there. Let him freeze or get bored or mugged. Instead, ten minutes later, you're walking next to him down the dim campus sidewalk, hoodie up, arms crossed. The night felt quiet, much more than the ones you do walk alone to get some air or with Nina to just relax. It felt...suffocating.
Your teeth pulled at you bottom lip, chipping at the cold and dry skin, eyes wandering around the cracked concrete under your each step. Your mind was empty, the only thing stimulating it was Jay's happy humming of some random song you couldn't even recognize that he must be making up at the spot. He kicked at a rock like it personally offended him, the scuffed toe of his sneaker sending it skittering down the path. "You know..." He started, voice lazy and warm. "If this were a date, it'd be going terribly."
You side-eyed him. "Good thing it's not."
He laughed, like you just told him something adorable instead of shot him down for the hundredth time. "Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, princess."
You groaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. "Don't call me that."
"Fine." He paused dramatically. "Your Majesty."
You turned your head to glare at him, but he just grinned — that infuriating, lopsided grin that made him look like he knew exactly how to get under your skin and was doing it for sport. "You're insufferable."
"And yet you came out here."
"That's because you showed up like a stray dog and I felt bad." He put a hand to his chest. "Wow. Sympathy. I knew I could break through that icy heart someday."
"You're going to break your nose someday if you keep talking like that." He chuckled again, but quieter this time. The sound melted into the soft crunch of your shoes on the pavement and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. A gust of wind brushed by, and you tugged your hoodie tighter.
For a few moments, neither of you said anything. He walked with his hands buried in his jacket pockets, head tilted toward the stars, lips still curved like he couldn't help himself. There was something softer in the silence than you expected — something that made you suddenly aware of how close he was, how the smell of his cologne lingered in the cold air.
"Why are you even out here, Jay?" You muttered finally. He shrugged, looking ahead. "Was bored. Wanted food. And maybe…" His eyes flicked towards you briefly, a teasing spark hidden in the corner of his grin. "Wanted company." You snorted. "You have friends, go bother them."
"They are not as fun to bother." He said easily.
You didn't answer to that. Mostly because you didn't know how to. So you kept walking, the two of you falling into step again, the quiet stretching between jokes and small talk. You found yourself almost comfortable — almost — until he started humming again, this time louder.
You nudged him with your elbow. "If you start singing, I'm going back." He laughed, the sound echoing down the empty street. "Then I better keep quiet, huh?" You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway.
And he saw it. Of course he did.
You could practically feel his grin widening beside you. "Was that a smile?" He asked.
"No."
"Pretty sure it was."
You kept your eyes straight ahead. "Pretty sure I'm about to trip you."
"Worth it." He said, voice dropping to a murmur that almost sounded honest. You didn’t realize how empty the streets were until his voice filled them. Jay was still humming — off key, as always — his breath visible in the air. He kicked at a pebble until it rolled into a storm drain.
"Bet you regret coming now." He said with a smirk. You shrugged, stuffing your hands deeper into your hoodie pocket. "I regret being awake, period." He laughed softly. "Fair."
The fast food place near campus was almost empty when you walked in — just a guy mopping the floor and a girl behind the counter who clearly wanted to quit. You both ordered half-heartedly and slid into a booth by the window. The harsh fluorescent light made everything feel a little more real than you wanted it to.
The food came out fast — too fast, like the kitchen wanted you gone.
A greasy burger, fries, and a paper cup of soda that already lost its fizz. You sank into the seat, hoodie hood half-fallen off, eyes burning from exhaustion. Across from you, Jay looked maddeningly alive — hair damp, hoodie sleeves shoved up, fingers tapping against the table in some rhythm only he heard.
"You good?" He asked, biting into a fry.
"Define good."
He smirked, leaning back. "Not homicidal."
You gave him a look that said barely, and he laughed — the kind of laugh that cracked through the silence, that warm, stupid sound that made it hard to stay annoyed. "You look like you haven't slept since the Cold War." Jay added, taking a sip of his soda with eyes still on your exhausted figure.
"Feels accurate." You muttered, unwrapping your burger without much care.
He was watching you again — not in that obvious way that would've pissed you off, but quieter. Like he was trying to read something between your blank stares and heavy blinks. You picked at your fries, trying to ignore it.
For a while, neither of you said anything. Just the hum of the neon light outside the window, the low murmur of some late-night playlist from the counter. Then, out of nowhere, he asked. "When's the last time you actually took a break?"
You blinked up. "What?"
Jay shrugged, but his voice wasn't teasing this time. "You're always running around. Work, classes, whatever existential crisis you have got lined up next. You don't stop." You gave a small laugh, mostly to break the weird weight settling in your chest. "Didn't realize you kept track." He grinned, but it was faint, like he didn't mean for it to show. "Hard not to."
You stared at him — tired, irritated, and something else you didn't want to name. "You say stuff like that and then expect me not to hit you."
"Maybe I like the risk." He said simply, and it shut you up. The silence stretched. You looked down at your hands, at the half-eaten burger you suddenly had no appetite for. Your mind was fraying at the edges — exhaustion, caffeine, and the sharp, stupid awareness that his eyes were still on you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. "You think I'm just messing around all the time." He said, voice low now. "But you're starting to catch on, aren't you?"
You froze. The words hung there, just between you — heavy and uninvited. "Catch on to what?" You asked, too quickly, hand moving to grab a fry from your plate.
He smiled then — not his usual grin, but something softer, and worse. "Exactly."
You hated the way your heart jumped at that.
And when you looked up, he was already looking right at you, like he'd said something he couldn't take back.
Neither of you looked away. Jay's eyes bored into yours with his famous shit-eating grin that this time made you gulp. Your eyes hurriedly dropped to your plate and brought the fry to your mouth biting into it. Each chew felt heavier and louder, you could feel his eyes still shooting through you. Jay just snickered, his own eyes back on his burger and with a cheeky grin grabbed a fry and plopped it into his mouth.
Neither of you said anything else.
• • • • • •
The afternoon light spilled through the tall windows of the sociology building, golden and lazy, catching the edges of open notebooks and half-empty coffee cups. You sat hunched over your laptop with Nina and Sunghoon across from you, the table cluttered with highlighters, crumpled printouts, and the faint hum of Sunghoon’s earbuds leaking music. Nina going on about the project when your focus started to blur—lines of text bleeding together, caffeine not doing its job.
"No, but think about it—Goffman literally said people perform different versions of themselves depending on the situation. Like, you in class versus you at a party? Two entirely different humans."
You gave a tired snort. "Yeah, except my ‘class’ version is dead inside and my ‘party’ version is slightly less dead inside." Sunghoon cracked a quiet grin without looking up from his notes, one ear bud still in. "That's still a range."
"Don't encourage her." Nina said, rolling her eyes. "She's been in a mood since we got here."
"I'm not in a mood." You muttered, highlighting the same sentence three times. "I'm just bored out of my mind."
"Then go get that Durkheim reference already." She teased. "Before you start biting people."
You sighed, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Fine, but if I disappear, assume the library finally devoured me."
"Wishful thinking. "Nina called after you. You smiled faintly despite yourself, stretching as you wandered toward the back shelves. The quiet thickened there—dimmer light, the faint smell of dust and paper. You ran your fingers along the spines until one caught your eye.
And then, of course, he spoke.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite grumpy genius pretending to study again."
Turning slightly, you found Jay leaning against the end of the shelf, eyes glinting with that same brand of arrogance that made you instantly want to hit something. He was leaned lazily against the end of the bookshelf like he'd been waiting for this moment all afternoon, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a mess of hair that looked too good for someone who claimed not to care. The corner of his mouth curled in that same smug, maddening smirk.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. " You muttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst arms hit your sides in annoyance. "Do you live here or something?" He shrugged, pushing off the shelf and taking a few steps closer. "Nah. Just heard someone sigh dramatically from across the room and figured it had to be you."
You rolled your eyes, again. "You seriously have nothing better to do, huh?"
"I have plenty of better things to do..." He said easily. "You just happen to be my favorite one." You glared at him. "That was terrible."
"Yeah." He said, grin widening. "But you smiled a little."
"I did not."
"You did." His voice dropped lower now, teasing, but softer in a way that made your pulse flicker. Weird. "It's cute when you try to deny it."
You turned back to the shelf, pretending to look for something just to avoid the way his presence seemed to thicken the air. Something's very wrong with you in the lasst week, you should for sure get that checked out. Something weird is going on, and you don't like it. "You're exhausting, Jay." Those words left your mouth, and you meant it. With your whole chest.
"I know." He said, stepping closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. "But you keep running into me anyway. Kinda feels like fate, doesn't it?"
"Or a curse."
He laughed quietly, low and rough, and for some reason that sound got under your skin more than it should have. You tried to move around him, but his hand came up—just barely brushing the edge of the shelf beside your arm. Not touching you, not quite. But it was enough to make your breath hitch. You froze. Eyes moved over his figure, ended up staring back at his dark slanted eyes, and for the first time you evidently gulped. In front of him.
He tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. "What, cat got your tongue? You usually have something smart to say."
"Shut up. " You said, but your voice came out quieter than you meant.
Jay's smirk faltered into something slower, heavier. His gaze dropped—not to your lips exactly, but somewhere dangerously close. It made your stomach twist in a way you refused to acknowledge, because there was no way—no way—you were actually reacting to him.
"Careful..." He murmured. "You keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me."
Your heart kicked hard, once. "I'm not looking at you like anything."
"Right..." He said softly, smile curling again, though it didn't reach his eyes this time. "Keep telling yourself that."
He leaned back then, the air cooling the second he stepped away. For a moment, you couldn't make yourself move—every muscle locked between wanting to yell at him and wanting and beat him to a pulp. He adjusted his backpack strap like nothing had happened, that same damn grin on his face.
"See you around, grumpy." He said, turning toward the door.
You stood there long after he'd left, staring at the empty space he'd occupied, pulse still somehow hammering? You scoffed, a mocking grin on your lips before you turned toward the bookshelf again.
"Yeah sure, he wishes..."
• • • • • •
Everything is a fucking disaster.
You don't even know how long you have been laying on your bed, eyes stuck on the ceiling, not a thought behind them except this one. Your phone buzzed again on the pillow beside you, lighting up your peripheral vision every few seconds, an irritating pulse.
ping
ping
ping
The group chat was alive—plans, jokes, memes, the kind of pointless chatter you normally rolled your eyes at but kept up with anyway. Tonight it felt like static. Like ten people talking into your skull all at once.
You didn't even open it. You just stared.
Another buzz.
Then another.
And something inside you twitched—some thin, worn-out thread snapping after weeks of being stretched too far. Before you could stop yourself, your thumb dragged across the screen and tapped Leave Group. No hesitation. No second thought.
Just silence.
The absence of noise felt good for a second. Then much, much worse.
The room was suddenly too quiet. As if everything you had been outrunning all day finally had a chance to sit beside you on the bed and breathe against your neck. Things you didn't want to look at. Things you didn't want to name. The exhaustion, the feeling of being behind in everything, the stupid irritation that never left your chest lately, the classes that felt too loud, people who demanded too much from you, expectations you didn't remember agreeing to fulfill.
Another buzz. But this one froze you.
Mom
6 unread messages.
You rolled onto your side slowly, like the movement itself hurt. Your throat tightened involuntarily. You didn't open them. You couldn't. You already knew the rhythm—concern disguised as pressure, questions that felt like inspections, love that came with expectations you never managed to meet. You swallowed hard, fingers curling around the phone until the edges dug into your palm.
The room felt even smaller. You pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead, as if you could push the thoughts back into place.
Maybe you should open them.
Maybe you should just get it over with.
Maybe you should answer.
Maybe—
No.
You turned onto your other side, knees drawing in, fingers worrying at a loose thread on your blanket. The motion was small, absentminded, but it grounded you just enough to keep from spiraling completely. You hated that this was where you were. Hated how easily exhaustion turned into self-doubt, how quickly confidence drained out of you when no one was looking.
Another buzz. You didn't check it.
You squeezed your eyes shut instead, exhaling through clenched teeth. "Fuck." You murmured, the word barely making a sound as it slipped out. Not angry. Just tired. Bone-deep, soul-level tired.
Everything felt like it was catching up to you all at once—every ignored responsibility, every half-finished task, every feeling you'd shoved down because there wasn't time to deal with it. You felt stretched thin, like one more wrong touch would split you open, and the worst part was knowing tomorrow wouldn't wait for you to pull yourself together.
The thought came to you suddenly — sharp, stupid and immediate. Quickly you were again onto your back with phone in hand and before you can overthink it—before guilt or logic or self-respect has a chance to intervene—your fingers move on autopilot. Jongseob's name sits there, neutral and uncomplicated, carrying no weight beyond the one thing he's been useful for: distraction.
You don't sugarcoat it. You don't flirt.
you: you around? can i come over?
You stare at the message for a second too long, thumb hovering like you might delete it, like you might suddenly choose a better coping mechanism. Then you hit send.
The relief is immediate—and hollow. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, only to realize the air doesn't actually feel any cleaner. Your chest loosens a fraction anyway, because at least now there's a plan. Something. An out. You toss the phone onto the bed, heart beating just a little faster, not from excitement but from the quiet shame of knowing exactly what you're doing.
You push yourself up with a groan and swing your legs off the bed. Your mouth feels dry, you need water. The dorm hallway greets you with fluorescent light and the low, distant murmur of someone laughing three rooms down. You pull your hoodie tighter around yourself and pad toward the common room, bare feet slapping softly against the floor.
The door is cracked open.
Inside, it's dark—almost completely. The TV is on, casting shifting blue light across the room, some movie playing low enough to feel more like background noise than entertainment. You step in without really looking, already heading for the kitchen counter—
—and then you see him.
Jay is sprawled on the couch, alone, one arm slung over the back, the other resting on his stomach. His face is half-lit by the screen, jawline sharp in the flicker of light, eyes trained on the TV but unfocused, like he's not actually watching. He doesn't notice you right away. Or maybe he does and pretends not to. You freeze instinctively, caught halfway between the doorway and the counter, heart giving an uncomfortable, traitorous jump.
The movie murmurs on, something dramatic and meaningless, the sound filling the space. You move slowly, deliberately, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it at the sink, every small noise suddenly too loud. The clink of glass. The rush of water. You can feel him now—not looking at you, not yet—but aware. Present. Like a weight settling into the room.
You take a sip, drink half of it without really tasting anything, and then just stand there, staring at the sink like it might offer answers if you glare long enough. Your body feels too heavy for the hour. Too heavy for the week. Too heavy for pretending you have any idea what you're doing.
Jay doesn't say anything. He doesn't crack a joke. He just watches you from the couch, the movie's blue light sliding over his face, his knee bouncing once before stilling.
You don't know why you do it.
One second you are standing, the next you are crossing the room and sitting down on the far end of the couch, leaving a deliberate, careful distance between you. Your movements are slow, like you are underwater. Like if you stop moving altogether, something might collapse. The couch dips under your weight. Jay glances over at you, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Didn't peg you for a late-night cinephile."
"I'm not. " You mutter, staring straight ahead.
"Good. " He says. "This movie is trash." Silence settles again, thicker now. You let your head fall back against the cushion, eyes fixed on the ceiling instead of the screen. The noise in your brain doesn't stop, but it dulls, edges blurring the longer you sit there. Jay's presence fills the space beside you in a way that's impossible to ignore—warm, solid, grounding in the most irritating way.
You can feel the heat from his arm. Not touching. Just close enough to notice.
He shifts slightly, like he's testing the distance too.
"You look wiped." He says finally, softer than usual.
"Wow. Incredible observation."
He huffs out a breath. "I'm serious."
You don't answer. You're too tired to defend yourself, too tired to snap back properly. That alone feels dangerous.
The movie drags on, some dramatic scene unfolding that neither of you are really watching. You're acutely aware of how still Jay is now, like he's afraid that if he moves, you will bolt. The thought irritates you—and, inexplicably, makes your chest ache.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of your sleeve.
"I just needed… quiet." You say, almost to yourself. Jay turns toward you fully this time. "Then you picked the wrong roommate lounge."
You glance at him, deadpan. "Shut up."
He smiles, but it's subdued. "Okay."
That does something to you. The way he doesn't push. The way he lets the word sit there without filling the space with noise.
Your gaze drifts to him without permission. The slope of his jaw. The faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his neck, like he's fresh from the gym. His lashes cast shadows under his eyes when he looks back at the screen.
Your stomach twists.
You look away too late.
Jay notices. Of course he does.
He shifts again, closer this time—just enough that your knees brush. The contact is accidental in theory, but neither of you move away. The air between you tightens, sharp and electric, crawling up your spine.
"You okay?" He asks quietly.
The question hits harder than it should. Your throat tightens, your chest feeling suddenly too small for your lungs.
No — you think. Instead, you shrug. "I will be."
Jay studies you, eyes lingering like he's memorizing the version of you that isn't armored up, the one slumped beside him with dark circles and frayed edges.
"You don't have to be all the time." He says.
Your laugh is soft, humorless. "Says who?"
"Says me."
You turn to him then, irritation flaring on instinct. "And since when do I take your advice?"
He grins, but there's no bite in it. "Since you sat down."
That shuts you up.
Your heart thumps painfully loud in your ears. You become hyperaware of the space between you—of how it's shrinking without either of you really choosing it. His knee presses into yours now, solid, warm. His arm brushes your sleeve when he shifts again.
Jay's voice drops. "You don't look like someone who came here to watch a movie."
You swallow. "Then why do you think I'm here?"
He hesitates. Just for a second. It's the first time you've seen him do that.
"Because you didn't want to be alone. " He says.
The words land softly. Gently. Like he's placing them down instead of throwing them at you.
Your chest tightens painfully. You look at him, really look at him—and the teasing smirk is gone. What's left is something steady. Something dangerous.
"Don't read into it. " You warn, weak.
Jay's gaze flicks down—again, not to your lips, but close enough that it sends a jolt straight through you. When he looks back up, his smile is barely there.
"Relax." He murmurs. "I'm just sitting."
"So am I. " You say.
The silence stretches. Thick. Charged. You can feel it humming between your bodies, loud as a secret neither of you have named.
You don't know how long you sit like that—shoulder to shoulder now, knees pressed together, pretending to watch a movie neither of you can follow.
But when Jay finally leans back, breaking the tension with a slow exhale, he does it with a knowing glance. "Careful... " He says lightly, the tease slipping back into place like armor. "If you keep sitting next to me like this, I might get the wrong idea."
You scoff, standing abruptly, pulse racing. "Get over yourself."
He laughs quietly, watching you retreat. "Already am."
You leave the room with your heart in your throat, body buzzing, frustration and something far worse curling in your chest.
Behind you, Jay stays seated, eyes fixed on the empty space where you were—smile slow, satisfied, like he felt it too.
You thought this could never happen again. You swore to yourself that that was the first and last time. But desperate situations require desperate measures, right?
So here you are in his dorm.
The room is dim, lit mostly by the streetlight bleeding through the half-closed blinds. Jongseob's dorm smells faintly like detergent and coffee grounds, that smell that always lingered to him and now you know why. It made your senses relax, or at least try.
He had you pinned against his sheets, his knees probably at the brink of carpet burns from how long he had his face in your folds. Sweat covered your half dressed body, panties moved to the side with his tongue licking up your mess. He was skillful, like you two did this more than enough for him to know your body like this. The obscene noises filled the quiet room, bouncing off the thin walls right to your ears making your blood rush tight to your already burning cheeks and neck.
It lulled out a moan, broken moan, out of your flushed lips. Your eyes felt heavy, vision blurry from all the edging for the past thirty minutes.
It was torture.
Jongseob's mouth worked wonders, sucking and licking you with such attentiveness, soft and rough at the same time. He sucked on your numb clit, each drag of his tongue now nothing but a itch that is almost enough to send you over. But he always pulled away the moment you arched your back off the bed, when your thighs trembled and legs threatened to close around his bobbing head.
"Jongseob—" You hiccuped out his name, your own voice betraying you. Eyes were full of tears ready to drop down your cheeks, your head felt lighter than ever. Hands went to grab his head, as you somehow raised your trembling body on one elbow for support. His locks felt soft, slightly damp from all the sweat and your wetness.
His tongue slowed down, eyes locked to yours with his boyish smile decorating his ruined flushed face. He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue before he detached from your pussy, hands gripping your sore thighs, mouth, nose snd cheeks glistening under the moonlight.
"You wanna come huh?"
Before he could get any type of answer his mouth was back on your pussy, his mouth engulfed it whole, tongue dancing around the sensitive flesh as it pulsed right against him. You cried out, throwing yourself back against the mattress. It felt too much, overstimulation taking place before even you came.
Your fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles brushing the fabric as the feeling builds, fast and deliberate. Your breath starts to stutter despite yourself. Heat pools low in your stomach, spreading, tightening, pulling you under. You bite down on your lip, willing yourself to stay present, to stay here.
But your mind doesn't listen.
It drifts — just for a second — and then it betrays you completely.
Jay.
All of a sudden his face was the one between your legs, devouring you impatiently. His mouth warm and filthy lapping up the mess you made, his slender fingers dig into your thighs keeping you spread, for him and his mouth only. His sharp jaw tight as he moved his tongue down to your hole, poking it with the tip of it before moving up to your clit, flicking rapidly. You moaned. Eyes rolling to the back of your head.
His hands.
His face ruined by your wetness.
His moans against you.
Your breath stutters.
The image hits sharper than it should. Uninvited. Inappropriate. Your body reacts violently to the thought, uncontrollable moans spilled from your parted swollen lips eyebrows tight.
The tension snaps all at once, pleasure cresting too fast, too intense, ripping through you before you can stop it. Your back arches, a broken sound slipping from your throat, fingers digging into the mattress as everything goes white for a split second. You gasped and gasped, breathy broken sounds escaping you in despair.
"Good girl..."
And then it's over.
You lie there, chest heaving, skin still humming — but something is wrong.
The high ebbs, leaving behind not satisfaction, but shock. A cold, sinking awareness that spreads through you slowly, mercilessly. Your eyes flutter open, staring at the ceiling like it might explain what just happened. You gulped.
Your stomach twists.
Jongseob exhales, satisfied, oblivious, pressing a lazy kiss against your inner thigh as he gets up on the bed next to you. You barely register it. Your heart is pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.
What the fuck was that?
Your stomach twists, not with guilt — something worse. Confusion. Shock. A cold, sinking clarity that spreads through your chest.
You didn't mean to think of him.
You didn't want to.
You stare at the ceiling, blinking hard, trying to rewind your own thoughts like that would undo anything. Your skin still hums, but the feeling is wrong now — hollow where it should be full.
Jay. Of all people.
You swallow, throat tight, and gently shift away, mumbling something about needing water. Jongseob hums in response, already drifting, unbothered.
You didn't come here to forget Jay.
And that scares you more than anything else tonight.
• • • • • •
You're walking with Nina when it happens.
Not looking for them, not bracing for anything—just moving across campus half-awake, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid while Nina complains about an upcoming midterm like it personally insulted her family.
"I swear, if I see economy in a script one more time—"
She cuts off mid-sentence.
You feel it before you see it. That subtle shift in the air, like your body clocks something your brain hasn't caught up to yet.
"Speak of the devil." Nina mutters, nodding ahead.
Sunghoon and Jungwon are coming down the steps of the student center, backpacks slung loose, mid-conversation. Jay is with them, walking backward as he talks, hands moving too much, grin already half-formed like he knows he’s about to be annoying on purpose.
There he is.
Exactly the same.
"—and I'm telling you..." Jay says, pointing between Sunghoon and Jungwon, "if you actually read the syllabus instead of pretending it doesn't exist, half your problems would be solved."
Jungwon snorts. "You don't read the syllabus."
"That's different. I skim."
Jay turns—and locks eyes with you.
His grin sharpens instantly. "Oh. Great. My favorite person who hates me."
"Morning." You say flatly, forcing your voice into its usual bored register. Jay beams. "See? She greeted me. Growth."
"Don't push it." You reply, deadpan. Sunghoon gives you a small nod, polite as ever. Jungwon smiles like he's watching something quietly unfold and choosing not to comment. Nina greets them all easily, already half pulled into conversation about a party later that week.
The group clusters naturally as you all make your way toward the lecture hall. Your steps slow half a beat. Your shoulders stay tight because of course he will be right next to you.
Jay keeps pace beside you anyway, like he always does.
"You skipping breakfast again?" He asks. "Because if you pass out in Social Theory, I'm not carrying you."
"You wouldn't." You reply.
"I absolutely would. For the attention."
Sunghoon walks a little faster, pretending not to hear. Nina gives you a quick look, the kind that asks a question without words.
You shrug it off.
Inside the building, the air shifts—cooler, quieter. Jay's energy doesn't change, but yours does. You answer his comments a second later than usual. Your comebacks land, just… softer. Less bite.
Jay notices.
Not enough to call it out. Just enough to tilt his head.
"You good?" He asks lightly, like he's joking.
You scoff. "I'm always good."
"That sounded rehearsed."
You stop walking for half a second, taking a deep breath of annoyance, then keep going. "You analyze people too much for someone in business."
"Occupational hazard." He says. "I read vibes."
You shoot him a look. There's still irritation there—real, familiar—but something else slips through with it. Uncertainty. Restraint.
Jay's smile lingers longer this time.
The lecture hall fills quickly. Jay of course takes a seat next to you and drops into his chair, stretching out, fully at ease. The course was barely five minutes in when Jay starts being a problem.
You know this because your pen has stopped moving, the slide on the screen hasn't changed, and Jay is already halfway into a whispered monologue like the concept of silence personally offends him.
"Okay, serious question." He mutters, leaning way too far into your space. "If social stratification is a construct, does that mean I can simply opt out of being broke?"
You don't look at him. "Please opt out of speaking."
He snorts. "Harsh. I thought soci majors were supposed to be compassionate."
"I ran out." You say flatly not sparing him a glance. "Mid-semester."
Jay grins like that's the best answer he's ever heard. He shifts in his seat, knee knocking into yours under the desk—once, then again, like it's an accident the second time too.
It's not.
Your leg jerks away on instinct, and that's when it hits you.
Not gently. Not gradually.
Just—
A flash.
Heat.
Pressure.
Your body remembering something your brain very much does not want to unpack right now.
Your grip tightens around your pen.
"Whoa..." Jay whispers. "Did I just get rejected by a kneecap?"
You inhale slowly through your nose. Focus.
Desk. Notebook. Professor. Anything but—
Jay tilts his head, studying you with exaggerated concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Or your GPA."
"Jay."
"Yes, sunshine?"
"Please shut up before I actually snap."
He laughs under his breath, shoulders shaking. "God, I love when you're mean to me. It's like foreplay, but educational."
Your head snaps toward him. "What is wrong with you?"
"Several things." He says easily. "Diagnosable, probably."
Jungwon shoots him a warning look from the other side. "Dude. Inside voice." Jay waves him off, eyes never leaving you. "Relax. I'm being subtle." You finally look at him, deadpan. "You just said 'foreplay' in a lecture hall."
"And yet- " He says, leaning back smugly. "You're the one blushing." You absolutely are not—except the heat crawling up your neck says otherwise.
The professor clears their throat pointedly. Jay straightens a bit, pretending to pay attention for all of ten seconds before leaning over again.
"You good, though?" He asks, quieter now—but still unmistakably him. "You've been weird all day. Like… extra grumpy. And I say that with love."
"I'm always grumpy."
"Yeah." He says, eyes flicking over your face like he's memorizing it. "But this feels… advanced."
Your stomach twists. You look away.
Jay hums, tapping his pen against the desk like he's thinking. Then, without warning, he drops his voice to a murmur meant only for you.
"Okay, theory." He says. "Either you are plotting my murder—fair—or something's got you all distracted. And I gotta say, I'm a little offended it's not me."
You scoff, because if you don't, you might actually combust. "You are always offended."
"True." He admits. "But I'm also observant."
His knee brushes yours again, slower this time, deliberate. Your breath unexpectedly hitched. The sudden image of you last night letting your mind wander and getting stuck on him in the most vulnerable moment felt humiliating, embarassing. Your arched back, mouth open and begging for air.
No.
"You keep zoning out." He adds, grin creeping back in. "Makes a guy wonder what's going on in that head of yours."
Your pen stills.
For one dangerous second, your mind threatens to betray you again.
Jay watches your reaction like he's caught something, eyes lighting up—not smug, not cocky. Curious. Interested.
Then he smirks, satisfied.
"Anyway." He says, sitting back like nothing happened. "If you need help studying later, I charge snacks and emotional availability."
"Pass."
"Liar."
The professor starts talking again. The class moves on.
Jay doesn't push further. Just stretches, folds his arms behind his head, and shoots you one last sideways look that says I see you without saying it out loud.
And you hate—absolutely hate—that your pulse doesn't slow until he finally looks away.
• • • • • •
Jay noticed Jongseob before Jongseob noticed him.
Which was unfortunate, because it gave Jay full three seconds to spiral.
Jongseob was sitting at one of the tall tables outside the student center, legs swinging a little because the chair was too high for him. A hoodie size too big and his blonde hair with a obviously fresh trim, bangs still slightly over his eyes as he scrolled on his phone. He had a juice box. An actual juice box. He was poking the straw into it with one hand, not taking his eyes off the phone screen before he brought it up to his lips,
Jay stopped walking.
Sunghoon took two more steps, realized Jay wasn't besides him anymore and turned around. "Why did you stop?"
Jay pointed. Subtly. Aggresively.
Sunghoon squinted. "Is that-"
"Yes." Jay said dramatically enough. "Him."
Jungwon leaned around them, a smile on his lips ready to stir the pot. "Oh. Cafe guy." Jay scoffed. "He has a name."
"Oh?" Jungwon asked. "You learned it?"
Jay glared. "I didn't learn it. I absorbed it against my will."
They started walking again because standing still made Jay look insane, which—fine, maybe he was—but still.
Jongseob looked up when they got closer, face lighting up in immediate recognition. "Oh! Hey."
Jay hated how friendly that sounded.
"Hey."Jongseob said again, standing up a little too fast. "Uh—sorry, do you guys need this table? I was just waiting for my class."
"No."Jay said." We're good.”
Sunghoon sat anyway. Because of course he did.
Jongseob hesitated, then sat back down too, awkwardly holding his juice box like he didn't know where to put it now.
Jungwon smiled at him. "You're in the interdisciplinary course, right?"
Jongseob nodded. "Yeah! With business and sociology."
Jay's eye twitched.
"Oh." Jay said lightly. "That one."
Jongseob glanced between him and Jungwon. "You're… business, right?"
Jay smiled. It was sharp. "I am."
"That's cool." Jongseob said sincerely. "I heard that course is brutal."
Jay leaned back in his chair. "Depends."
"On what?" Jongseob asked genuinely.
"How much free time you have." Jay said. "Some people are… very busy."
Sunghoon choked on nothing. The dark and ominous tone something that almost made him burst out laughing. Jongseob laughed nervously, ignoring the weight of his stare. "Yeah. Totally."
There was a pause. Jongseob took a sip from his juice box. The straw squeaked.
Jay stared at it.
"…You like those?" Jay asked.
Jongseob blinked. "Uh. Yeah?"
"Interesting..." Jay said. "Didn't peg you for a juice box guy."
Jongseob tilted his head. "Is that bad?"
Jay opened his mouth.
Jungwon cut in immediately to save the situation and possibly his friend of embarrassing them in front of a innocent guy. "It's fine. He judges everyone." Jay shot him a look. "I do not."
Sunghoon raised a brow. "You judged me for ordering vanilla."
"That was justified." Jongseob smiled again, smaller this time, like he wasn't sure if he was included in the joke or the target of it. "You're… funny."
Jay's grin softened without his permission. "Yeah. I get that a lot."
Jongseob nodded, then checked his phone that was forgotten by him the moment the boys stepped in. "I should probably head to class."
"Same." Jungwon said quickly, standing. "We're late."
"It was nice seeing you guys." Jongseob slung his backpack on, then hesitated — just a second too long — before adding casually, "If you see Y/N before me, tell her I left her charger in my locker."
Jay froze.
Sunghoon froze.
Jungwon's eyebrows shot up.
"Oh," Jay said slowly. "Did you."
Jongseob nodded, voice low and soft. "Yeah. She always forgets stuff." He didn't want to bother you, not after you seemed so out of it last night, not when you just left his dorm without even a bye, like you were running from him. "She'll know." Jongseob added, smiling. "Thanks."
And then he waved and walked off, same polite energy, no clue he'd just dropped a grenade and left.
The second he was out of sight—
Jay turned sharply to Jungwon. "Why does he have her charger."
Jungwon blinked. "Jay—"
"Why—" Jay repeated. "is her charger in his locker."
Sunghoon crossed his arms. "Do you want the honest answer or—"
"No." Jay snapped. "I don't."
Jungwon sighed. "You're spiraling."
"I am observing." Jay said. "That's different."
Sunghoon deadpanned. "You're jealous."
Jay scoffed. "Of what? A guy who drinks juice boxes and borrows chargers?"
Jungwon smiled faintly. "Yeah."
Jay looked away, jaw tight, muttering. "He doesn't even look like he deserves that kind of access."
Sunghoon smirked. "Access?"
Jay paused.
"…Shut up."
• • • • • •
You didn't mean to end up alone with him.
Not after another draining shift with no will to live.
You were supposed to be heading back to your dorm—enjoy your night, relax and just simply try not to fall asleep before you shower—but the universe, as usual, had other plans. The hallway outside the student center was dimmer than usual, lights flickering softly as the sun dipped lower, casting everything in that weird in-between glow where nothing felt fully real.
You rounded the corner too fast.
And slammed straight into a solid chest.
"Jesus—"
Strong hands caught your arms before your brain even registered what was happening. You looked up, already annoyed, already ready to snap—
Jay.
Of course.
He blinked once, then twice, clearly just as surprised, before that familiar grin tugged at his mouth like it couldn’t help itself. "Wow." He said. "You always run into men this hot, or am I special?"
You pulled your arms back immediately, crossing them like armor. "Move."
He laughed, stepping aside but not nearly enough to give you actual space. The hallway suddenly felt narrower, warmer, like the air had thickened just for the two of you. He smelled faintly like soap and something clean—probably post-gym—and you hated that your brain registered it instantly.
"You look tired." He added, softer now, eyes flicking over your face. You scoffed. "What do you want, Jay?"
He tilted his head, mock-offended. "Can't a guy exist near you without an agenda?"
"Yes." You said immediately. "Actually. You can't."
That earned a low laugh. He leaned back against the wall, arms folding loosely over his chest, watching you like you were something entertaining and dangerous at the same time. You shifted your weight, suddenly too aware of your body, of how close he still was, of how your pulse hadn't quite settled since earlier.
"You heading to the party tomorrow night?" He asked casually, like it didn't matter.
You hesitated. Just a second too long.
He caught it.
"Thought so." He said, smirk sharpening. "You have that look. Like you're already exhausted by something that hasn't even happened yet."
You rolled your eyes. "You talk too much."
"Only when I'm nervous."
That made you look at him.
He held your gaze this time. Didn't joke it away. Didn't backtrack. Just stood there, quiet for once, the hum of the lights filling the space between you. The silence stretched—not awkward, exactly, but charged. Like something unsaid was pressing against your ribs from the inside.
You felt it then. That pull. That stupid, unwanted awareness of him—of the way his jaw tightened when he looked at you too long, of how his fingers flexed like he was holding himself back from doing something impulsive.
You swallowed.
"Nothing to say now?" You muttered, defensive.
His grin came back, slower this time. Knowing. "Oh, plenty..." He said. "Just… trying to behave."
That sent a spark straight through you, sharp and unwelcome. You scoffed, stepping past him, shoulder brushing his arm—barely, but it was enough. The contact lingered like static, like your nerves had been lit up and left buzzing.
Behind you, he chuckled. Low. Satisfied.
"See you tomorrow, grumpy." He called after you. "Try not to miss me too much before then."
You didn't turn around.
But your heart didn't slow down either.
Jay tells himself he's fine.
He tells himself this as he walks away from you down the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie like that will keep him from doing something stupid—like turning around, like calling your name, like asking something he doesn't have the right to ask.
Fine. Totally fine.
Except his chest feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with cardio.
He replays it—of course he does. The way you ran straight into him like the universe had a sense of humor. The way your first instinct was irritation, always irritation, like that was the only thing keeping you upright lately. He noticed it immediately, the tiredness etched into your face, the way you looked like you'd been carrying too much for too long and were seconds away from snapping.
And God, he wanted to be the one thing you didn't snap at.
That's the fucked up part.
Jay's always been good at being loud. Being annoying. Being the joke. It's armor—one that's worked his whole life. People laugh, they roll their eyes, they don't look too close. They don't ask questions. They don't notice when he cares more than he should.
He leans against the stairwell railing now, staring down at nothing, jaw tight. He can still feel the brush of your shoulder against his arm—barely anything, but enough to send something sharp and electric straight through him. You probably didn't even mean it. Or maybe you did. That’s the problem. He can't tell anymore.
And that scares him more than rejection ever could.
Because somewhere along the way—between the banter, the bickering, the stupid comments, the way you always show up looking like you don't want to be anywhere except exactly where you are—this stopped being a game.
He didn't mean for it to.
He meant to flirt. To tease. To poke at your defenses and retreat when you bit back. That was the plan. Harmless. Fun. Controlled.
Now?
Now he notices things he shouldn't. Like how you go quiet when you're overwhelmed instead of loud. Like how your eyes drift when you're thinking too hard. Like how you never actually tell anyone when you're not okay.
He hates that he knows that.
He hates more that he wants to be the one you don't shut out.
Jay exhales slowly, tilting his head back against the wall. The ceiling above him is stained and flickering, just like every campus building ever, and he laughs under his breath because of course this is where he's having an emotional crisis.
He thinks about Jongseob—because of course he does—and the thought leaves something bitter on his tongue. He doesn't even have proof. Just vibes. Instinct. Jealousy he pretends is a joke because that's safer than admitting it's real.
He tells himself he doesn't get a say.
He tells himself that if you wanted him, you'd make it obvious.
But then he remembers the way you froze when he said you were catching on. The way you didn't laugh it off. The way you looked at him like you were suddenly aware there was something underneath all his noise.
Jay smiles despite himself.
Yeah. You're catching on.
That's the problem.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Group chat. Sunghoon sending some dumb video. Jungwon reacting with five skull emojis. Nina saying something he knows is probably about tommorow night.
The party.
He straightens a little.
Tommorow is dangerous.
Tomorrow night is loud and crowded and full of excuses to pretend nothing matters after this shit of a semester. It's alcohol and music and proximity and bad decisions disguised as fun.
Exactly the kind of environment where things slip.
Jay pulls his phone out, thumbs hovering over your name for half a second longer than necessary.
He types something stupid. Something light. Something that sounds like him.
you better show up tomorrow or i’m telling everyone you’re scared of frat basements
He stares at the message before sending it.
Then, quieter, to himself;
"You're so fucked."
He hits send anyway.
You tell yourself you're fine.
You tell yourself this as you walk away from Jay down the hallway, shoulders tight, pace just a little faster than necessary. You don't look back. There's no reason to. Running into him was annoying, that's all. Bad timing. Bad luck. He's everywhere lately, like a campus rash.
You replay it anyway, which pisses you off.
The way he'd been too close. The way he smiled like he'd won something even though you'd given him nothing. The stupid comment. Your automatic snap back. Normal. Routine. That's how this works.
Except your response had come out sharper than usual.
You roll your neck once, like you can physically shake it off. You're tired. That's it. Burnt out. Anyone would be snippy under this much pressure. It has nothing to do with him and his dumb voice and the way he refuses to take a hint.
You take the stairs instead of the elevator just to burn off the irritation.
He's exhausting. He always has been. Loud, intrusive, constantly in your space like he's entitled to it. You don't know how Jungwon puts up with him, or Sunghoon, or literally anyone. And you definitely don't know why he's decided you're his personal hobby this semester.
Your phone buzzes as you reach your dorm room.
You already know.
You sigh, unlocking it with more force than necessary.
ignore: you better show up tonight or i’m telling everyone you’re scared of frat basements
You snort.
Unbelievable.
You type back immediately.
you: i don’t go places that smell like regret and cheap cologne
you: find a new threat
Send.
You toss the phone onto your bed and start digging through your bag, looking for absolutely anything else to focus on. Notes. Lip balm. A pen that barely works. Anything.
Your chest feels tight, but you ignore it. You've been stressed all week. Of course your body's being dramatic. Doesn't mean anything.
You don't check your phone again.
Not right away.
And you definitely don't wonder if he's smiling at your reply.
That would be stupid.
• • • • • •
The café smelled like burnt espresso and cinnamon syrup, which usually grounded you. Today it just made your head ache.
Your shift had been dragging since the minute you clocked in. The kind of dragging where your body was present but your brain was lagging a full two steps behind, every movement feeling slightly delayed. You worked on autopilot—wipe counter, pull shot, steam milk—muscle memory carrying you where your thoughts refused to cooperate.
Jongseob noticed immediately.
"You good?" He asked casually, handing you a cup to lid. Nothing loaded in his tone except his pure softness and concern. Just checking.
You shrugged. "Didn't sleep."
"Yeah, that tracks." He smiled, easy and soft like always. "You're doing that stare-into-the-void thing."
"I am not."
"You are." He said, amused. "But it's fine. Void's comfy."
You huffed, nudging his arm with your elbow before turning back to the register. Easy. Normal. Safe. That's what this was. Coworker banter. No complications. No thinking required.
Except your eyes drifted before you could stop them.
Window seat. Same as always.
Jay sat slouched across from Sunghoon and Jungwon, hoodie half-zipped, iced coffee sweating onto the table. He looked… quieter. Not sulking. Just less loud. His laughs came slower, shorter, like he was present but not fully checked in.
It annoyed you immediately.
You tore your gaze away and focused on the espresso machine. Still, every few minutes—while wiping the counter, while waiting for the grinder, while pretending to read an order slip—you looked again.
And every time, it felt like walking straight into a trap.
Because somehow, impossibly, he was already looking.
Not staring. Not obvious. Just… aware. Like he'd sensed it. His eyes would flick up, meet yours for half a second too long, then drop back to the table like nothing happened.
It made your stomach twist in a way you didn't have time for.
You scowled at the milk pitcher. This was stupid. You were tired. That's all. Lack of sleep messes with perception. Makes everything feel bigger than it is.
Behind him, Sunghoon leaned in slightly, brows knitting together.
"Why are you being weird?" He muttered.
Jay scoffed. "I'm not being weird."
"You haven't made a single inappropriate comment in ten minutes." Jungwon added. "That's weird."
Jay shot him a look. "I'm evolving." The answer was short and empty, it felt off to the two.
Sunghoon snorted. "Liar."
Jay leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking—not to you, absolutely not—to the counter, then away again. "I'm just tired."
"Mhm..." Jungwon said, unconvinced. His gaze followed Jay's for half a beat, then back to him. "You sure that's all?"
Jay didn't answer right away.
At the counter, you knocked over a stack of napkins.
"Shit—" You crouched to grab them, irritation flaring hot and sharp. Get it together.
When you stood back up, heart still thudding for no reason, you caught it again—his eyes on you. This time longer. This time unmistakable.
Something unreadable crossed his face before he looked away first.
That almost made it worse.
Jongseob slid beside you, handing over a finished drink. "You want me to cover register for a bit?"
You blinked. "Why?"
"You look like you're about to fight the espresso machine."
"I am not."
"You kind of are."
You sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face. "Just—yeah. Two minutes."
As you stepped back, you could still feel it. The pull. The awareness. Like there was a thread stretched tight between your table and his, invisible but humming.
You hated it.
You hated that your eyes kept betraying you.
And you really hated that when Jay finally laughed—quiet, genuine, something Sunghoon said clearly catching him off guard—it made your breath stop for a split second.
You turned away sharply, jaw tight.
This was nothing.
Just exhaustion.
Just proximity.
Just a bad week.
Still, when your eyes flicked back one last time—
He was looking again.
This time, neither of you pretended it was an accident.
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