SITRI

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

Your mom’s were best friends, you grew up in the same house practically, spent holidays together. He was less a boy and more a permanent fixture in your home. You had done most of the looking out for him when you were younger, fending off anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way. And when he went off to college, you following him, two years later, it was his turn to look after you. He introduced you to his friends, a group of boys from the frat he joined, skipped class to hang around your dorm when you weren’t feeling well. He was your best friend. He was your Han Jisung.

Your Han Jisung, who is currently trying to convince his friends that he has never kissed you and has never thought to.

It annoys you a little. You’ve run through your fair share of men, and some women, since you’ve started college last year. You know you're attractive, that certainly isn’t the problem. So why was Jisung so adamant in proving to his friends that he’s never thought of you in that way? You were starting to feel a bit wounded.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Felix says, leaning against the beer pong table. Smoke drifts upward from the shared joint hanging between his fingers, a fuzzy halo above his blonde head. “Never? Not even once? Come on.”

You don’t even know how this conversation started. One minute you're all lounging around at this house party on a random Friday night, and the next the discussion had shifted to this.

“No,” Jisung’s thigh bounces up and down, which isn’t unusual. He always gets jittery when he smokes. “No. I haven’t, she’s like a–”

“For the love of a fat ass, don’t say she’s like a sister to you,” Hyunjin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Why not?”

Hyunjin gestures wildly at the position you two are sitting in right now. You’re practically in his lap. Your legs are tangled with his on the beat-up couch, and your head is resting on his shoulder.

“That’s how we always sit,” Jisung says, eyebrows pinched in confusion. 

“Okay, well, my sister doesn’t have a lap full of me right now, so there’s that,” Felix says, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

Jisung just grumbles something and snatches the joint from Felix. He leans his head back into the couch, breathing it in deeply, passing it to you without even lifting his head from the pillows. You catch it with your teeth, brows furrowing in disappointment when you're hit with nothing. It’s dead. You pluck it from your lips and lean forward to crush it in the ashtray on the coffee table. When you settle back against the cushions, you shift, just slightly.

Your knee brushes against the crotch of his jeans. The resulting twitch from him is immediate, a little jump of muscle that tells you everything you need to know. He has thought about it. He’s lying through his teeth and it’s hurting your fucking ego.

Hyunjin stretches out his leg to nudge your leg with his foot. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever thought about it?”

You and Hyunjin have a weird sort of relationship. You hooked up once at a party, back when you were a freshman. Jisung had found out and gotten upset, telling you that his friends were all assholes and man-whores and were therefore off-limits. You pointed out that Jisung had slept with some of your friends and you hadn’t said anything but he wouldn’t be swayed, refusing to talk to you until you promised to never do it again. You decided then that Hyunjin, though he was beautiful and a pretty decent fuck, was not worth it. The two of you never spoke of it again, but a certain level of playful flirtation has remained. 

“Sure,” you say breezily, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

Jisung sits up so fast you nearly topple over. “You have?” The look on his face is nothing short of comical.

“Yeah. Have you not?”

“No,” he says, and the lie is so obvious it hangs heavy in the air, “We’re best friends.”

“So?” Hyunjin’s leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, dark eyes dancing with mischief. “Best friends can have fun.”

You’re starting to think he might be right. And you’re starting to think you’d like to have some fun with Jisung, especially if it meant wiping that stupid look off his face. It was a dangerous thought, one that you’d entertained briefly before, always shoving it down because it felt wrong, like crossing some sort of sacred line.

But right now, watching him squirm, it feels more like a starting line.

You shift again, slower this time, and rest your hand on his thigh. His leg stops bouncing. He freezes, all motion ceasing except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He’s looking straight ahead, at the wall, but you can feel the heat of his gaze on your profile.

“What’s so wrong with me that you don’t want to kiss me?” You pout, looking at him through your lashes.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and his eyes are wide and dark and full of something you can’t quite name. “Nothing,” he breathes. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You shrug one shoulder, making a show of sighing and rolling your eyes towards the ceiling. “Clearly there’s something wrong with you, then. I know for a fact almost all of your friends have thought about kissing me.” You’re bluffing, mostly. You only know for a fact about Hyunjin. And maybe Seungmin. But that was more of a vibe.

Thankfully, Felix gets the hint. He leans forward on the couch, balancing his elbows on his knees. “I have.”

Jisung turns sharply towards him, parting his lips but before he can speak, Hyunjin chimes in, raising his hand. “I did.” Then, when Jisung throws him a look so dirty, he recoils. “Once. And I never did it again.”

“I wouldn’t be so against it,” Changbin chimes in from where he's playing beer pong. He giggles and turns back to the game ignoring the death glare from Jisung.

You flash him a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then you turn back to Jisung. You can feel the beat of his heart through the denim of his jeans, a frantic little drum solo against your palm. “See? I’m very kissable.”

He doesn't move, doesn't back away. He just swallows, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet corner of the party. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and back again.

You sigh loudly, untangling your legs from his and getting up from the couch. "Whatever," You step past him. "I'm gonna go get more–"

A hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back so suddenly that you can’t help but yelp, landing in a heap onto Jisung’s lap. Before you can react—or even adjust yourself properly—his lips find yours.

It’s not a soft, tentative kiss. It's a crash. It’s messy and a little desperate, the way a teenager kisses for the first time. There’s an edge of frustration to it, of months, maybe years, of unspoken tension finally boiling over. His tongue slides against yours, and you can taste the cheap beer and the lingering smoke. His hand moves from your wrist to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place. He’s kissing you like he’s trying to prove a point. Someone wolf-whistles, Felix maybe, but it fades into a distant hum, and all that’s left is the frantic beat of his heart against your palm and the dizzying taste of Han Jisung.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the brown of his irises. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smug little smirk playing on your lips.

"Shit," Jisung breaths. "You're good at that."

"You were there too, you know," You tease bumping your forehead into his. Maybe you should feel a little weird about kissing this boy you've known since you were children when you've never crossed this line before. But, strangely, or maybe not so strangely, there's nothing weird about it. It feels as natural as breathing, kissing Jisung.

Instead of replying, he's tilting his head up to catch your lips again, palms sliding down from your neck over the expanse of your back and smoothing over your ass, pulling you into him. He deepens the kiss with a soft groan that vibrates in your chest. It's a better kiss this time, slower, more certain. He explores your mouth with a newfound confidence. This is fun. So much fun. You're not sure why you never tried this before.

His thumb finds that little strip of skin between your top and your jeans, stroking it gently. And a shiver goes through you that has nothing to do with the buzz of the party. It’s a jolt, a current that runs straight down to your core, and your hips roll against his of their own accord. A low moan escapes your lips and into his mouth. 

“Booooo,” Hyunjin says from somewhere behind you. “Get a fucking room.”

Neither of you are fazed in the slightest. You feel a great chasm opening between the two of you. It’s only been about  thirty seconds of kissing Jisung and you already know you’ll never be the same without it. You mourn all the years you’ve gone without his lips on yours and you mourn for all the years that will come after this phase of kissing Jisung, because it will someday end. All your life you’ve never known anyone to keep a relationship. 

You pull back from him and he pouts, a pretty little thing that you want to bite. You hold back for now.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” He asks, dazed. He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a finger to his lips.

“Because you were too busy denying how much you wanted to,” you say, grinning. The power you feel is intoxicating, headier than the cheap beer, sweeter than the cherry cola on his tongue.

He just grumbles something unintelligible, nipping at the pad of your finger before leaning back into the couch, pulling you with him. His grip on your waist is firm in a way that sends another thrill through you. He’s not letting you go.

You end up making out for the rest of the party, tucked into your little corner of the couch. The weed and the alcohol fade into a distant hum, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of him. When the party eventually thins out and he walks you home, he kisses you some more at the door and you have to physically pull yourself away from him.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as he tries to follow you inside. “Go home, Ji.”

“When can I see you again?” he asks, a desperate edge to his voice. His hair is a mess from where your hands have been tangled in it, and his lips are swollen and red.

“You see me practically every day.” You shrug, trying to play it cool, even as your heart hammers against your ribs. “And we have that paper to finish for psych.”

“Forget the paper,” he says, shaking his head. “I want to kiss you again.” He takes a step closer, his hands finding your hips. “I don't think I can stop.”

He’s looking at you with a raw, open honesty that makes your breath catch in your throat. This is not the Jisung you know. Your Jisung is goofy and sarcastic, prone to hiding behind jokes and deflecting with humor. This Jisung is… intense.

“Tomorrow,” you say, your voice a little too soft. “You can see me tomorrow.”

He seems to accept this, nodding slowly. He leans in and gives you one last, lingering kiss, a soft, gentle press of lips that feels more intimate than all the frantic kissing from before. “Okay,” he whispers against your mouth. “Tomorrow.”

He takes a few steps down the path, then he stops and turns back. The porch light casts him in a soft, golden glow, but you can see the uncertainty in the set of his shoulders. He’s a silhouette against the dark night, and for a second, he looks like the little boy you used to build pillow forts with.

“Hey,” he calls out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This… this doesn’t change anything, right?”

You pause with your hand on the doorknob. Change anything? The idea is almost laughable. You and Jisung have been a constant in each other's lives since before you could even remember. What could a few kisses possibly change?

“Of course not,” you say, a genuine, easy smile spreading across your face. “We’re just having fun. Right?”

“Right,” he nods. “Fun. Right.”

He turns and jogs away, a spring in his step that wasn't there before. You watch him go, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest. It’s just fun. You’ve always been good at having fun.

And fun it is. Your relationship hasn't changed much, at least not on the surface. You still hang out nearly every day, still bicker over what to eat for dinner, still fall asleep watching movies in his bed. The only difference is that now, you kiss. You kiss in the morning, before you’ve even brushed your teeth, a sleepy, soft press of lips. You kiss in the afternoon, between classes, a quick, hard peck against the brick wall of the humanities building. You kiss at night, tangled in his sheets, long, deep, and searching, until you’re both breathless and aching for more.

The line between friendship and… whatever this is… has become a blurry, beautiful mess.

You’re in his room, a month into this new arrangement. You’re supposed to be studying for a midterm, but your textbook lies forgotten on the floor, its pages crumpled. Jisung is on top of you, his weight a pleasant, grounding pressure. He's kissing a trail down your neck, his lips hot and insistent against your skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. His hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on the soft skin of your stomach.

You arch into him, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Your fingers tighten in his hair. This is the part that’s always been a little blurry. You've never crossed this line, never went beyond just making out and heavy petting. It feels like the next logical step in this "fun" you're having, but there’s a tiny, hesitant part of you that’s still a little afraid of what that step might mean.

“Jisung,” you breathe, your voice a little shaky.

He pulls back, his face hovering just above yours. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Nothing’s wrong.” You reach up and cup his face, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I just… I'm on my period."

It's a lie. You don't know why you're lying. Maybe you're scared. Maybe you know that having sex with your best friend is a line you can't uncross. But he doesn't need to know that.

He blinks, processing this, then a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face. "So?"

"So?" you echo, a little thrown. "So, it's gross. Don't tell me you've done it before."

"I mean, yeah," he shrugs, "a couple of times. It's not a big deal." He leans down and kisses you, a quick, soft peck on the lips. "I don't care. Did you know it helps a lot with cramps?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but laugh. "Did you read that on a feminist blog or something?"

He scratches his eyebrow. "Actually, I was researching what helped with period cramps after you mentioned having really bad ones a few years ago." he says, his ears turning a shade of pink. He smiles sheepishly. "I ended up settling for some Advil."

The admission is so unexpected, so utterly Jisung, that it cuts through the haze of arousal. You let out a small, breathy laugh. "You're an idiot," you say, but there's no malice in it. You reach up and smooth the furrow in his brow. "A sweet, researched-my-cramps idiot."

He grins, relieved. "So... no on the period sex?"

You shake your head, a genuine smile on your face. "No. Nice try though."

"Damn," he says, though he doesn't sound too disappointed. He shifts, rolling off you to lie beside you. "Can I at least still touch you?"

You pretend to think about it, tapping a finger against your chin. "Hmm, I don't know. I'm a very fragile flower right now."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Right. A fragile flower who was just trying to rip my shirt off five seconds ago."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"If I wanted your shirt off, I would have it off by now," You point out. And you would have. You’re an expert at undressing men quickly.

"I'm not that easy," Jisung protests, propping his head on his elbow to look at you comfortably. "I don't take my shirt off for just anybody."

You roll onto your side to face him, propping your own head up. The sunlight catches in his hair, turning it into a fluffy, brown halo. "Yeah, well, I'm not just anybody. And I've seen you shirtless a bijillion times anyway."

"Yeah but not during sexy sexy time." He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Take off your shirt, Jisung." You say, sitting up now, poking his chest with your finger. He yelps, smacking your hand away.

"I just said I'm not that easy!" He whines.

You just stare at him, raising a single eyebrow.

He holds out for approximately three seconds before he sighs dramatically and sits up, crossing his arms and grabbing the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor. "There. Are you happy?"

You gap at him. "You got a tattoo? Holy shit, it's big."

He grins, unable to help it. "That's not the only thing that's bi--"

You cut him off with a look. He clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I had it done almost two months ago now."

You trace the elegant cursive script with your eyes. It starts just under his left armpit, a single, beautifully rendered word. Blessed. The letters flow down his side, over the sensitive skin of his ribs, disappearing tantalizingly beneath the waistband of his jeans. You have an overwhelming urge to see the rest of it.

"Blessed?" You trace the letters with your fingertip, from the top down as far as you can go. The skin under your touch is warm. He shivers. "Why 'Blessed'?"

He shrugs, looking away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't know. Just felt right."

A memory suddenly rises to your mind. ""Blessed is he who has learned the causes of things""

He grins sheepishly. "Am I really that predictable?" He asks.

"Yes, you pretentious shit, quoting Virgil." You say but there is no heat in it. "You are such a dork."

He laughs, a soft, breathy sound that rumbles through his chest. You shift, laying your head on his stomach so you can get a better view of the tattoo, your fingers continuing their slow, meandering path over the ink. His skin is soft here. You can feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten slightly under your touch.

"It's about…," he beings thoughtfully, his voice vibrating through your ear. His fingers start to play with your hair, gently combing through the strands. "It's about... understanding, you know? Not just letting shit happen to you, but actually trying to figure out the why. The cause and effect."

You hum in response, your finger tracing the curve of the 's' in 'Blessed'. You can feel the slight raised texture of the healed ink against your skin.

"When I was getting it done," he continues, his voice a low, intimate murmur, "it hurt like a bitch. But it was this weird, focused pain. I could feel the needle, and I knew exactly where it was coming from and why it hurt. And for some reason, that made it... easier. Made me feel in control." He pauses. "Most of life isn't like that. Things just happen. People get sick, relationships end, you fail a test... you don't always get to know the cause."

Your finger stills. You can feel the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. He's not talking about Virgil anymore. He's talking about everything. About the anxiety that sometimes keeps him up all night, about the sheer, terrifying randomness of the world.

"I guess I just wanted a reminder," he says, and you can tell he's not really here with you, but somewhere deep inside of his head. "That even if I can't control the causes, I can at least try to learn them. To understand them. And maybe... maybe that's a kind of blessing in itself."

You press your lips against the skin of his ribs, right over the last visible letter of the word. It's a soft, gentle kiss, nothing like the frantic, demanding kisses from before. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand stilling in your hair. You feel his fingers tighten just a little bit, a reflexive grasp. For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner and the frantic, unsteady beating of your own heart.

You assume he must be getting sex from elsewhere, because it's been two months since you first kissed him, and you still haven't gone all the way. The make-out sessions have escalated, sure. Hands wander further, clothes come off more readily. There's a fine sheen of sweat on your skin almost every night after he leaves your dorm room. But you always pull back, and he always, always, lets you.

You're starting to feel like a fraud. You preach 'fun' and 'no feelings,' but you're the one who's scared. Scared that crossing that final line will shatter everything you've built with him.

The thought of him with someone else gnaws at you. You try to brush it off. He's a college guy. Of course he's hooking up with other people. You do too, or you would be, if you could muster up the energy to go on a date instead of spending all your free time with Jisung.

You don't like feeling this way. It's an icky, possessive feeling that has no place in a 'fun' arrangement.

The thought bubbles up out of your mouth one evening while you're sprawled on your floor, 'studying' for finals. "Are you sleeping with anyone else?"

Jisung, who is highlighting a paragraph in a textbook with an almost violent concentration, freezes. The bright yellow highlighter hovers over the page. He doesn't look up.

"No," he says, a beat too late. "Are you?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with an unspoken electricity. You're not. You haven't even thought about it. The idea of going on a date with some random guy from your stats class feels exhausting, and deeply unappealing.

"No," you admit, picking at a loose thread on the rug. "I just... I figured you would be. We're not... exclusive."

"So?" He finally looks up, and his eyes are dark, serious. "I don't want to."

"Why not?" You press, needing to know. "I'm not putting out. A guy has needs."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "I'm getting my needs met," he says, his voice low and a little rough. He puts down the highlighter and closes the book with a soft thud.

You sit up, genuinely intrigued. "With who?"

"With no one."

"That makes no sense, Ji, how--"

He just stares at you, a long, intense look that makes your stomach do a little flip. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"Oh," you breathe, the realization hitting you like a physical blow. He's getting off on you. With the thought of you. The thought is so hot, so surprisingly intimate, that it makes you dizzy.

"Yeah, 'oh'," he mimics, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He leans back on his hands, stretching his long legs out. "Is that a problem?"

"No," you say, a little too quickly. "No, it's not a problem."

"Good."

He goes back to his book, but the spell is broken. You can't focus. The image of him, alone in his room, thinking of you, is burned into the back of your eyelids.

"How come?"

He glances at you. "How come I jacked off to the thought of you riding my face in the library last week?" he asks, deadpan.

You choke on your own spit. "Jisung!"

"What? You asked," he shrugs, completely unfazed.

"That's not what I was asking, I–in the library?"

"Study room C," he clarifies, as if that's the detail you were stuck on. "The chairs are surprisingly sturdy–"

"Anyway," You interrupt. "I meant, how come you haven't been fucking anyone else?"

He sucks on his teeth. "Cuz I don't want to. Besides, it's not like there's any options anyway."

You snort. "That's a bold faced lie, Han Jisung, I know for a fact that that red head from lit has been trying to get in your pants for at least a month."

Jisung blinks. “I thought she was just interested in lizards.”

“No one is actually interested in lizards,” You point out.

“I am.”

“You’re a one in a million, Ji. Maybe even a billion. Are you really just going to keep her waiting?”

He shrugs. “I was never going to sleep with her.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in surprise. “Whoa. Okay, what up?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me, you’re the one with some sort of deadly illness. A  girl’s throwing herself at you and you don’t want to have sex with her?”

“Is that so bad?”

“No…it’s just weird. And a little out of character for you.”

“Is it?” He finally looks up, looking deep into your eyes. “Would you really be okay with me sleeping with her?”

“She’s not really my type, to be honest, so you can have–”

“No,” He cuts off, sounding frustrated now. It surprises you. “I’m not asking specifically about her. Are you really okay with me sleeping with anyone?”

That takes you off guard. “Yes? Why would I not be?”

He looks at you for a long moment, before turning back, huffing a little irritated laugh. “Right. Never mind, forget it.” 

He turns back to his book, highlighting aggressively and leaving you completely and utterly confused. You don't press it. The air is too thick with things you don't want to name.

The party is in full swing, a chaotic explosion of relief and cheap alcohol. The air in the frat house is thick with the smell of spilled beer and sweat, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the soles of your feet. Finals are over. Summer is a breath away. You should be celebrating.

Instead, you're leaning against a sticky wall in the kitchen, watching Jisung from across the room. He's holding court, of course, a circle of admirers hanging on his every word. Among them is the redhead from your lit class, the lizard enthusiast. She's laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm.

A hot, ugly feeling coils in your stomach. Possessiveness. Jealousy. You hate it. You hate it more as you watch her latch onto Jisung’s wrist and pull him away. He goes willingly.

You push off the wall and grab a solo cup of what smells like regret and fruit punch, downing half of it in one go. The alcohol burns a path down your throat.

You spot Hyunjin by the beer pong table, a triumphant grin on his face as he sinks the last cup. He catches your eye and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. You give him a tight-lipped smile and make your way over.

“Having fun?” he asks, handing you a fresh beer.

“Peachy,” you say, taking a long sip.

His gaze drifts over to where disappeared with the redhead. “Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise,” you snap, a little too harshly. “There’s just… a sandbox. And someone’s trying to play in my sandbox.”

Hyunjin laughs, a low, knowing sound. “You’re so full of shit. You like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my best friend.”

“You know what I mean,” he says, leaning closer. “You’ve been different with him these last few months. Softer, but also… jumpier. Like a stray cat that’s finally decided to let someone pet it but is still ready to bolt at any second.” You open your mouth to deny it, but the words die on your tongue. Because he’s right. You are a stray cat, and you’re terrified.

Before you can formulate a response, a new voice joins the conversation. “Who’s a stray cat?”

It’s Felix, all sunshine and smiles, his arm slung around Changbin’s shoulders. He looks between you and Hyunjin, his curiosity piqued.

“Her,” Hyunjin says, jerking a thumb in your direction. “She’s finally realizing she’s in love with Jisung.”

The words land like a bomb. The kitchen seems to go silent, the thumping bass of the music fading into a dull roar. Your heart hammers against your ribs. In love. The phrase is so absolute, so terrifyingly final. It’s not ‘fun.’ It’s not ‘messing around.’ It’s love.

You’re about to laugh it off, to make some cutting remark that will shut Hyunjin down, but you don’t get the chance. Because you see it. Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, you see Jisung. He’s no longer with the redhead. He’s standing at the edge of the living room, and he’s looking right at you. And you know, with a sickening certainty, that he heard.

You shove past Hyunjin, ignoring his calls of your name. You need to get out of here. You need air. You push through the throng of bodies, the sticky floor gripping your shoes, the heat of the room pressing in on you. You burst through the front door into the cool night air, stumbling down the porch steps.

The front door opens and closes behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

“What was Hyunjin talking about?” His voice is tight, strained.

“Nothing,” you say, turning to face him. “He was just being an idiot.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a sudden chill making you shiver.

“He said you were in love with me,” he presses, taking a step closer. “Is that true?” His eyes are searching yours, desperate for an answer. And you can’t lie. Not to him. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

“No,” you say, the word coming out small and brittle. Because it’s not love. It can’t be. Love is messy and painful and ends with people crying on the bathroom floor. This is just… this is just a complication.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “Not about this.”

“I’m not lying!” you insist, your own voice rising with frustration. “Why do you even care? I saw you disappear with lizard girl."

He flinches as if you've slapped him. "Lizard girl? Her name is Sophie. And I didn't 'disappear' with her, I walked her to the door because she was too drunk to find it."

"Oh, I'm sure that's all it was," you scoff, the jealousy burning hot and irrational in your chest. "Poor, helpless Sophie."

"What the hell is your problem?" he says tightly, his usually calm demeanor shattering completely. "You say you don’t mind me sleeping with other people, but the second I so much as talk to another girl, you act like I've cheated on you!"

"Because you're supposed to be my friend!" you say harshly, your voice echoing in the quiet street. "You're not supposed to want them! You're supposed to want m—"

You cut yourself off, but it's too late. The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable. You're supposed to want me.

Jisung stares at you, his expression a confusing mix of shock, hurt, and something that looks dangerously like hope. "Want you?" he repeats, his voice dangerously low. "Is that what this is about? Your ego? You need me to want you and only you, but you won't give me anything real in return?"

"That's not what I said!"

"It's what you meant!" he shoots back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "God, you are so selfish. You want all of my attention, all of my...want. But you won't even admit what this is. You won't give me a label. What am I supposed to do, just wait around forever until you deign to let me in?"

His words are like shards of glass, each one finding a vulnerable spot. He's right. You have been selfish. You've been taking all the comfort and affection he offers without giving anything of substance back.

"Maybe you should just go fuck Sophie then," you spit out, the words laced with a venom you didn't know you possessed. "Maybe she's not as selfish as I am."

"Maybe I will," he retorts, his jaw set. "At least with her, I know where I stand."

The silence that follows is deafening. It’s heavier and colder than the night air. You can feel the chasm between you widening, a crack in the foundation of your entire friendship that you’re not sure can ever be repaired.

He looks at you one last time, and all the anger in his eyes has been replaced by a deep, profound sadness. "You know," he says, his voice quiet and hollow. "For someone who claims to be so good at reading people, you're really fucking clueless."

And with that, he turns and walks away. He doesn't look back. He just disappears into the night, leaving you standing alone on the sidewalk, the thumping bass from the party a distant, mocking heartbeat. The warmth from the alcohol has evaporated, leaving you cold and hollow. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, but it doesn't help. You're not sure anything will ever help again.

The next few days are a special kind of hell. Silence. That's the worst part. The constant, buzzing silence where Jisung's laughter used to be. Your phone feels heavy and useless. You stare at your text thread with him, the last message being a stupid meme he sent you two days before the party. You can't bring yourself to type anything. What would you even say? Sorry I called you selfish and told you to go fuck someone else? It sounds hollow, even in your head.

You avoid the dorm lounge, the library, the coffee shop. Anywhere you might run into him or one of the guys. You exist in a bubble of your own making, attending your final classes and then retreating to the suffocating safety of your room. The unpacked boxes in the corner of your room seem to mock you, a reminder that summer is here and you have no idea what that means anymore. Summer has always meant Jisung. It has meant lazy days by the pool and late-night drives and the two of you against the world. Now, it just means a gaping, empty void.

A week later, the sky decides to open up and weep all over the city. You’re on your way to the storage unit to finally drop off the last of your boxes when your car, an ancient and temperamental sedan Jisung affectionately named ‘The Beast,’ sputters, coughs, and dies.

Of course it does.

You’re in the middle of nowhere, on a stretch of road lined with industrial parks and warehouses. The rain is coming down in sheets, so heavy you can barely see the hood of your car. The wipers are squeaking a pathetic, rhythmic protest. You try turning the key. Nothing. Just a series of sad, clicking sounds.

Panic, cold and sharp, starts to prickle at the edges of your calm. You pull out your phone, your fingers slippery with rain. You call Hyunjin. It goes straight to voicemail. You try Felix. He picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” His voice is tinny and distant.

“Lix! Thank god, my car died and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring—”

“Oh, shit, that sucks,” he says, and you can hear the muffled sounds of a crowd. “I’m at this really lame family thing, I can’t really get away. Have you tried Changbin?”

“He doesn’t have a car,” you say, your frustration mounting.

“Jisung then,” Felix says, like it’s the simplest, most obvious solution in the world.

Your stomach clenches. “I’m not calling Jisung.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “Oh. Right. The fight.” He sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I really can’t leave. Maybe try a tow truck?”

“Great idea, Felix,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm you immediately regret. “Sorry. Thanks anyway.”

You hang up and let your head fall against the steering wheel. The metal is cold against your forehead. You call a roadside assistance number. The automated voice tells you the estimated wait time is two hours. Two hours. In this. You stare out at the grey, water-logged world, a proper, miserable self-pity party for one.

You feel small and helpless. Hated. You’ve made a complete mess of everything. All because you were scared of a word. Love. What a stupid, four-letter word to ruin a decade-long friendship.

You don't know how long you sit there, wallowing in a slurry of anger, guilt, and misery. Time loses its meaning, marked only by the drumming of the rain on the roof and the occasional flash of headlights from a passing car that leaves you feeling even more isolated. You’re so wrapped up in your own head, replaying the fight on a loop, that you don't even notice the pair of headlights that pull up behind you, their beams cutting through the downpour.

You jump violently when a loud rap sounds on your driver's side window. Your heart leaps into your throat. You turn, ready to scream at a serial killer or a creepy trucker, and freeze.

It’s Jisung.

He’s standing in the pouring rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a thin hoodie that’s soaked through, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’s not smiling. He’s just looking at you, his expression unreadable through the glass and the streaks of rain.

For a second, you just stare at each other. He looks exhausted, there are dark circles under his eyes that match the ones you've seen in your own reflection all week. He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod towards the lock.

You fumble with the button, your fingers clumsy and cold. The door clicks open. He pulls it, the rush of cold, wet air immediately filling the car. He doesn't get in, just stands there, half-in, half-out, creating a small, temporary shelter from the storm.

“Felix called me,” he says by way of explanation. His voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. “Said you were being an idiot.”

You don't know what to say. Thank you feels too small. Go away feels too cruel. So you just sit there, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline, unable to meet his gaze.

“The Beast’s dead?” he asks, nodding towards the sputtering engine.

You manage a weak nod.

“Figured.” He sighs, and it’s a weary, bone-deep sound. He shivers, a full-body tremor that he tries to suppress. “Pop the hood.”

You do as he says, fumbling for the latch. He leans out, expertly propping the hood open. He vanishes for a moment into the downpour, and you watch him through the windshield as he peers at the engine, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looks so out of place here, a boy of books and music and carefully chosen words, poking at the greasy guts of a dead machine. A wave of affection so strong it hurts.

He fiddles for a few minutes, yanking on a cable here, checking a connection there. He comes back to the window, shaking his head, water flying from his hair like a wet dog.

“Battery’s fried,” he says, his teeth chattering slightly. “And I think the alternator’s gone too. There’s nothing I can do out here.”

You just nod again, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the drumming rain.

“Come on,” he says, breaking it. “Get your stuff. I’ll take you back.”

You should refuse. You should tell him you’ve already called a tow, that you’ll be fine, that you don’t need him. But the lie dies on your lips. Because you do. You need him.

You grab your backpack and the box from the passenger seat, your movements stiff and awkward. He opens the back door of his car for you, placing your things carefully on the seat before closing it again. You slide into the passenger side, the warmth of the car’s heater a shocking, welcome sensation. The interior smells like him—faintly of laundry detergent and that specific, clean scent you’ve never been able to place.

He gets in, not a word spoken between you. The engine hums to life, a smooth, steady purr that is the complete opposite of your dead car. He pulls back onto the road, the wipers working overtime to clear the glass. The drive is suffocatingly quiet. You keep your eyes fixed on the passenger-side window, watching the blurry city lights streak by. Every muscle in your body is tense. You can feel the heat radiating from him, just a few inches away. The space between you feels both too vast and dangerously small.

You finally pull up outside your dorm building. The rain has eased to a miserable drizzle. He puts the car in park but leaves the engine running. The silence is back, heavier than ever. This is it. The moment where you have to say something.

“I can pay you for the gas,” you blurt out, hating how formal and stupid it sounds.

He doesn’t even look at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Jisung, I—”

“What are your plans for the summer?” he asks, cutting you off. His tone is casual, but you can hear the tension coiled beneath it.

The question catches you off guard. “Um, I don’t know. Work at the cafe, I guess. Take a couple of summer classes.” The words feel hollow, a list of empty activities to fill the gaping hole where he used to be.

He nods slowly, finally turning to look at you. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, making his expression impossible to read. “I’m going back home for a while. Help my parents with some stuff.”

Home. He’s going home. To another city. A three-hour drive away. It’s what he does every summer, but this year it feels like a final judgment. A sentence.

“Oh,” is all you can manage. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he says, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel. “So.”

“So.”

You should go. You should thank him, get your stuff, and just go. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, trapped by the weight of all the things you haven’t said. You look at him, really look at him. At the slope of his nose, the worried line of his lips, the way he’s rubbing at a spot on the steering well with his thumb—a nervous habit you’ve seen a thousand times. Your best friend. The boy you’ve known since you were both gangly, brace-faced seventh graders. The boy whose shoulder you cried on when your first dog died, the boy who helped you sneak out for your first high school party, the boy who knows all your secrets. Except the most important one. The one you were too scared to even admit to yourself.

"Ji," Water drips from your hair onto your lap. Without looking, you reach your hand across the vast space of the center console, palm up, fingers spread. "Will you hold my hand?"

He flinches, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. His eyes flick from your outstretched hand to your face and back again, a war of emotions playing out in their depths. Anger, hurt, exhaustion, longing. He hesitates for a beat that feels like an eternity.

Then, slowly, he lifts his hand from the steering wheel and places it in yours. His palm is warm and a little damp. He doesn't lace his fingers through yours, just lets them rest there, a tentative, fragile connection. The contact sends a jolt through you, a current of warmth that chases away the chill that’s been living in your bones for a week.

You stare at your joined hands. His hand is bigger than yours, the fingers long and calloused in places from playing guitar. There's a small scar on his knuckle from when he tripped and fell trying to climb a tree to rescue your frisbee in tenth grade. You trace it with your thumb.

You take a shaky breath, the words bubbling up from a place you didn't know existed. "Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit."

He sucks in a sharp breath. You feel it more than hear it. He knows. Of course, he knows. It's Virgil. He looks at you then, really looks at you, and the anger in his eyes has finally dissipated, replaced by a profound, aching sadness.

"Maybe it will be a pleasure one day to remember even this," he translates. "Who's a pretentious little shit now?

A weak, watery laugh escapes your lips, half-sob. "Still you."

He huffs a small, humorless laugh. You take the opening with both hands. "Please don't go home."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do this," he says, his voice cracking. "I can't be around you and pretend it doesn't hurt."

"What hurts?"

His gaze is piercing, direct. "You know what hurts." His fingers tighten around yours, a desperate, pleading gesture. "You stand there and you tell me it's all just fun, but you jealous of a girl I was just walking to the door. You quote our poet to try and fix things after you shatter me. You're so goddamn confusing."

"I'm not confused." You snap. "I know what will happen if we do this, Jisung, I'm surprised that you don't."

"What happens? We get a happy ending? God for-fucking-bid."

"This is not a fairytale, Ji." You press. "I haven't ever seen a monogamous relationship last longer than three months. My parents have been cheating on each other for 20 years, yours are divorced, none of our friends have ever had a stable partnership."

"So what? Our failure is pre-determined because everyone else sucks?" He scoffs. "You use your parents as an excuse to not let anyone in. To not try for anything real."

"I am not using them as an excuse!" You pull your hand away from his, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why are you pushing for this so hard? Do you want to get your heart broken? Do you want to lose your best friend? Because that's what's going to happen. We're going to be miserable and then we're never going to be able to look at each other again."

"So what's the alternative?" He yells, his frustration boiling over. "We go back to being 'just friends'? We pretend this never happened? We ignore the fact that I am completely, head over heels in love with you? That I have been for ten years?"

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. Ten years. Not months. Not since you started kissing. But ten years. Since you were awkward, brace-faced teenagers.

"I can't do that," he says, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "I can't go back to pretending. So either we try, or we don't. And if we don't... then I do have to go home. Because I can't be your friend anymore."

The finality of it hits you like a physical blow. He's not threatening you. He's stating a fact. This is the ultimatum you never saw coming. It's not about sex or labels or even love, not really. It's about survival. He can't survive being near you like this. And you're not sure you can either.

"That's bullshit, Jisung, you can't make me choose, it's not fair." You say, your eyes are welling up with tears. This is the opposite of fun. This is messy and painful and it hurts.

"It's not fair to me to be in love with someone who will never love me back but won’t let me go."

You look at him, at the raw pain etched on his face. You think about all the times he's been there for you. All the times he's picked you up when you've fallen. All the times he's held your hand and told you it would be okay. You think about the tattoo on his ribs, Blessed. A blessing to understand the causes of things.

"I do love you." You say, the words feeling foreign and strange on your tongue.

He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"You don't even know what that word means."

"If you know that, then why do you want me to say it so bad?" You say, your voice raising again. "Why are you so determined to ruin this?"

"Ruin this?" He asks, incredulous. "This is already ruined! We've been ruining it for months! We've been tiptoeing around this thing, this massive, huge thing, and we've been slowly poisoning our friendship in the process. I'm not ruining it, I'm just the only one willing to admit that it's already on fucking fire!"

You can't take it anymore. The car feels too small, the air too thick. You fumble for the door handle, shoving it open and stumbling out into the drizzling rain. The water is cold on your skin, but it’s a welcome shock to your system.

You hear the click of his door opening and closing, and then his footsteps are splashing behind you. "Where are you going?" He calls out.

"Away from you!" You yell, not turning around.

You don't get far. He catches your arm, spinning you around to face him. You're both soaked now, your hair plastered to your faces, your clothes clinging to your skin. The rain is coming down harder again, but neither of you seems to notice.

"That's the problem!" He shouts, his face inches from yours. "You can't get away from me! And I can't get away from you! We're stuck!"

You're crying now, hot tears mingling with the cold rain on your cheeks. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

And then he's kissing you.

It's not like the other kisses. It's not fun or playful or tentative. It's desperate and angry and full of all the words you haven't been able to say. His lips are cold from the rain, but they're insistent, demanding. You kiss him back with just as much force, your hands tangling in his wet hair, pulling him closer. You're not thinking about the future or the past or the consequences. You're just thinking about him. About the feel of his body against yours, the taste of rain on his lips, the way he's holding you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.

Somehow, you make it back to your room. The keycard fumbles in your shaking hands, but you finally get the door open. You stumble inside, a trail of water and mud in your wake. The door slams shut behind you, cutting off the storm. You're a mess, dripping all over the floor, your clothes sopping.

He pushes you against the door, his body pinning yours, his lips finding yours again in the dim light of your room. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your wet shirt, his touch electric on your skin. You're both shaking, but it's not from the cold anymore.

"Jisung," you gasp against his mouth.

"Shut up," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Just shut up."

You don't argue. You let him silence you with his mouth, let the frantic energy of the argument transmute into a frantic, desperate need. This isn't about fun anymore. This is about claiming, about marking, about trying to bridge the chasm that has opened up between you with teeth and tongue and nails.

He rips your shirt over your head, the wet fabric catching briefly before it's discarded on the floor. His hands are on your skin, warm and firm, a stark contrast to the chill still clinging to you. He trails kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse point, and you arch into him, a gasp tearing from your throat. Your hands fumble with the hem of his own soaked hoodie, pushing it up over his stomach, your fingers tracing the familiar, now-slick lines of his tattoo.

Blessed. The word screams in your mind. What a cruel, cosmic joke. This feels like a curse.

He shudders under your touch, lifting his arms so you can pull the hoodie and the t-shirt underneath off in one go. They land with a wet slap on the floor. He's beautiful. You've seen him shirtless a hundred times, at the pool, in your dorm, but it's never been like this. His chest is heaving, his skin glistening with rain and exertion. In the low light, the muscles in his arms and shoulders are starkly defined, a testament to the tension that's been riding him for weeks.

You want to devour him. You want to crawl inside his skin and stay there. The thought is terrifying.

He walks you backward, your bodies still pressed together, until your knees hit the edge of your bed. You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. He lands on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. He pauses, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. His hair is dripping onto your face, but you don't care. You just look at him, at the raw, open expression on his face. All the anger is gone, replaced by a desperate, aching need that mirrors your own.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I need you to be sure."

You reach up, threading your fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck, and pull him down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him for a moment, a deep, slow kiss that feels like a surrender. Then he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

"Words," he whispers.

The fear comes back, a cold snake coiling in your gut. Words are what got you into this mess. Words are what will define whatever happens next. But looking into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and the hope warring there, you know you can't deny him. 

"Please," you breathe, the word barely a puff of air between you. "Please fuck me, Jisung"

It's not a declaration of love. It's not a promise of forever. It's raw, it's present, and it's the truest thing you can say in this moment.

A groan rips from his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. He kisses you again, hard and deep, and this time there's no holding back. His hands make quick work of the button on your jeans, and you lift your hips to help him pull them off. The rest of your clothes follow in a frantic, desperate tangle of limbs, until you're both naked, skin to skin, the heat of your bodies chasing away the last of the chill.

He touches you with a reverence you didn't expect. His hands map every inch of your skin, his lips following in their wake. He pays attention to the places that make you gasp, the places that make you shiver. He's not in a hurry anymore. He's savoring. He's learning.

He kisses his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. He lingers at the hollow of your throat, the dip of your navel, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You're trembling, a fine, constant shudder running through you. You're so lost in the sensation that you almost cry out when he finally, finally puts his mouth on you.

His tongue is soft and wet and impossibly skilled. He licks and sucks and teases, building a tension in you that's almost unbearable. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him to you, your hips arching off the bed. He's relentless, pushing you higher and higher, until you're a writhing, whimpering mess.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "My god, look at you."

You can't form words, can only make a desperate, pleading sound. He chuckles, a low, vibrating sound that sends a new wave of pleasure through you. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and that's it. The tension in you snaps, and you come with a cry, your body convulsing with the force of it.

He doesn't stop. He works you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers never ceasing their movements, drawing out the pleasure until it's almost painful. Just when you think you can't take anymore, the building starts again, slower this time, deeper. It’s a different kind of tension, coiling low in your belly.

You feel a brief, sharp sting as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. You gasp, not from pain, but from the primal, possessive thrill of it. He soothes the bite mark with his tongue, a soothing, apologetic gesture, before returning to his ministrations. He's everywhere now, his broad shoulders holding your thighs open, one hand splayed across your stomach to hold you down, the other pumping into you with a steady, insistent rhythm. He's completely focused, his entire being concentrated on this one task, on giving you this one thing. The sounds he makes are obscene, wet, hungry sounds that make your cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and intense arousal.

You're lost in a haze of sensation, your mind gone blank, your body no longer your own. You're just a collection of nerve endings, all firing at once, all screaming for him. It starts in your toes, a tingling warmth that spreads up your legs, through your torso, until it engulfs you completely. You're no longer in your room, in your bed. You're adrift in a sea of pleasure, and he is your only anchor. The world dissolves into a blinding, white-hot light, and you're dimly aware of your own voice crying out his name, a broken, desperate prayer.

When you finally come back to yourself, he's kissing his way back up your body, his movements slow, deliberate. He licks the sweat from your skin, tasting the salt of your exertion. He hovers over you, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and intense. He's breathing hard, his chest heaving. You can feel the hard, hot length of him pressed against your thigh.

"You with me?" he asks, his voice a raw, husky whisper.

You can only manage a weak nod, your body still humming with the aftershocks.

He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead. "You look so good when you come."

The words, so blunt, so Jisung, send a fresh jolt of heat through you. He kisses you then, a slow, deep kiss that tastes of you and of him and of the desperate, unspoken things between you. You can feel the desperation in him, the barely contained need. He wants you. He's wanted you for ten years. The thought is staggering.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jisung," you breathe, a plea and a permission all in one.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" he murmurs against your lips. "How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself?"

"Then don't," you say, your voice surprisingly steady. "Don't keep your hands to yourself."

He laughs breathlessly. "I haven't been. Did you miss the part where I've been eating you out for the last half hour?"

You wriggle your hips, brushing against his and he bucks, a choked gasp escaping him. "Must've missed the part where you actually fucked me."

"Impatient," He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against you. He pauses, looking down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and terror. "Last chance to change your mind," he says, though you both know it's a lie. There's no going back now.

"Shut up, Jisung," you whisper, echoing his own words from earlier. And you pull him down for another kiss.

He enters you in one slow, steady thrust. You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in easily, but the stretch is still overwhelming. He fills you completely, a deep, satisfying ache that makes you feel whole in a way you haven't in a long, long time.

"Ohh, fuck," he moans, burying his face in your neck. "You feel… fuck."

You can't speak, can only hold on to him, your nails digging into the sweat-slick planes of his back. He starts to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that's designed to unravel you. Each thrust is a question, a plea, a declaration.

You meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in a perfect, primal rhythm. The room is filled with the sounds of your lovemaking—the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of your bodies joining, the broken moans and whispered words that are barely coherent but mean everything.

He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and he hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He takes it as encouragement, setting a harder, faster pace. One of his hands slides down your body, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, insistent circles. The dual sensation is almost too much, a sensory overload that threatens to send you over the edge.

You'd wondered, idly, in the back of your mind, what this would be like. You knew he was experienced, had heard the whispers and seen the aftermath. A part of you, the petty, jealous part, had steeled itself for mediocrity. But this... this is something else entirely. He's attuned to your every response, every gasp and shudder, adjusting his movements to push you higher, to pull you apart. This isn't the clumsy fumbling of a college hookup. This is a masterclass, a symphony of sensation, and you're the unwilling, adoring audience. You understand now, with a clarity that's both thrilling and terrifying, why they always looked at him afterward like they'd just seen God. You're starting to feel it yourself.

He seems to know you're close, and he slows down, a torturous, deliberate withdrawal that leaves you empty and aching. He pulls out almost completely, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, then pushes back in, inch by agonizing inch. He does it again, and again, a slow, maddening tease that makes you want to scream. His thumb is still on your clit, a slow, maddening circle that keeps you balanced on the knife's edge of orgasm, never quite letting you fall.

"Look at me," he says, shuddering. "Look at me and I'll give you anything you want.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his intense, burning gaze. He's watching you, his expression a mixture of awe, possession, and a desperate, raw need that steals your breath. He's not just looking at your body, he's looking into your soul.

"Tell me what you need," he whispers. He slows to a stop, still inside you, his entire body a tense wire, waiting. He's giving you the reins.

You want to tell him to move, to fuck you hard and fast until you can't remember your own name. But the words get stuck in your throat. What you need is too big, too terrifying to say out loud. So you show him instead. You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and you surge up to kiss him, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss.

He understands. He always understands.

He starts to move again, a slow, deep grind that sends shockwaves through you. He's hitting that spot again and again, a relentless, steady pressure that's building the tension in you to an unbearable peak. His thumb on your clit speeds up, circling faster, harder. You can feel your body tightening, coiling like a spring.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. "Let go for me. Come on."

The praise, the raw permission in his voice, is what finally breaks you. The spring snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, a violent, all-consuming wave that rips a scream from your lungs. Your vision whites out, your body convulsing around him, clenching and releasing in a rhythm that's beyond your control. You're distantly aware of him groaning your name, a long, broken sound.

He rides you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he follows you over the edge. But at the last second, he pulls out. You have a brief, confused moment of emptiness before you see him kneeling between your legs, one hand braced on the mattress beside your head, the other working his cock in quick, tight strokes.

You watch, mesmerized, as he comes with a choked gasp, spilling over your stomach and chest. The sight is primal, shockingly intimate, and it sends a final, lingering tremor through you. He collapses beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat and rain and him 

You feel him shift, and then a warm, damp cloth is gently wiping the mess from your skin. Your t-shirt, you realize dimly, that you’ve been wearing not too long ago. You're too exhausted to even be embarrassed, you just hum your appreciation. He tosses the shirt aside, then pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady, reassuring thump against your ear.

He kisses your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt of your tears. He kisses your lips, a soft, lingering kiss that's full of a terrifying, fragile hope.

"I love you," he whispers into the darkness of your room. The words are quiet, but they land in the silence with the force of a shout. "I have always loved you."

Sleep is pulling at you, a warm, heavy blanket. You can feel the edges of your consciousness starting to blur. His arms are around you and you can feel his lips on the tip of your nose, your lips, your jaw. He's warm. He smells like rain. He's not going to leave. It's all you've wanted for a week. It's all you've ever wanted, really.

"You won't leave, will you?" The words leave your lips in a mumble, your lashes fluttering. "You won't go back home?" You're too tired to be anything but honest.

There's a pause. "If you ask me to stay," he says, "I won't leave."

You open your eyes, heavy as they are, to look at him. You want to say it. The words are right there, a phantom weight on your tongue. Stay. Please stay. I'll love you. I'll love you the way you want me to. But your body betrays you. Your eyes drift shut, your breathing evens out. Sleep claims you, pulling you down into its warm, silent depths before you can give him the answer he's waiting for.

Jisung has watched you sleep for the last ten minutes. He has memorized the gentle slope of your nose, the way your eyelashes fan out against your cheeks, the soft, even puff of your breath against his chest. He has counted the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders. He has memorized all of it, and it feels like a goodbye.

He shouldn't have said it. Not like that. Not in the aftermath, when you were soft and pliant and half-asleep. He had promised himself he wouldn't. He had sworn he'd wait, that he'd be patient, that he wouldn't pressure you. But then you were underneath him, your eyes wide and trusting, your body opening for him, and the words had just… ripped out of him. An uncontrollable truth.

If you ask me to stay, I won't leave.

He waits.

He waits for you to stir, for your eyes to flutter open, for the words to come. Stay. He can almost hear it, your sleep-roughened voice. The thought is a physical ache in his chest. He imagines the relief, the pure, unadulterated joy that would flood him, the feeling of finally, finally coming home.

But you don't stir.

The minutes tick by, each one a small death. He can hear the sound of the rain outside your window, a soft, steady rhythm against the glass. He can hear the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner of your room. He can hear the frantic, desperate beating of his own heart. He thinks about the way your body shook around him, the way you whispered his name. He thinks about the taste of your skin, the feel of your hands in his hair. He thinks about all of it, and he knows he can't stay.

And that's an answer, too.

He has loved you like a dog his entire life, all he's ever wanted was to sit by your side, to eat your scraps, to just be near you. But being your dog, your constant companion is no longer enough. He can't sit at your feet and hope for a pat on the head while you look at someone else. Not anymore.

It was selfish of him to do this. To fuck you, to push you, to demand more than you were willing to give. He can see that now, in the quiet, grey light of the morning. He has just made everything a thousand times worse. He has taken your carefully constructed world, your "fun," and he has detonated it.

He can't stay and pretend that everything is okay. He can't stay and be your friend. He can't stay and watch you fall in love with someone else. He can't do any of it. He is a coward, he knows, but it's the truth. He has to leave.

Careful, so careful, he slides his arm out from under your head. You stir, a soft sigh, and your brow furrows, but you don't wake. He eases himself off the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, trying not to disturb the mattress, trying not to break the fragile spell of your sleep. His clothes are a damp, muddy pile on the floor. He gathers them up, pulling on his jeans with a wince. The denim is cold and stiff against his skin. He doesn't bother with the shirt, just balls it up in his hand.

He stands by the bed for a long moment, just looking at you. You look so peaceful, so unguarded. It's the most vulnerable he's ever seen you. He wants to crawl back into bed with you, to pull you into his arms and never let go. He wants to wake you up and demand that you choose him, that you choose this.

Instead, he leans down and presses a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead. He turns and walks out of your room, closing the door behind him.

He doesn't look back.

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

the bass from downstairs rattled the cheap picture frames hanging on the hallway walls. the smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor was strong, making your head feel lighter. laughter echoed from every corner of the house.

but none of it held your attention for long because your eyes were fixed on han jisung. 

he stood across the beer pong table with that stupid, cocky smile you wanted to wipe off his face, lazily rolling the ping pong ball between his fingers while the crowd around you shouted over one another. 

the grin on his face only widened before he tossed you the ball with an easy flick of his wrist, leaning back against the wall behind him, completely relaxed.

“last cup, baby,” he called, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “you miss, you drink. make me proud and don’t miss your shot, jagi.”

his words were dripping with teasing flirtation, making you roll your eyes. even if the heat in your lower abdomen just kept building every time your eyes locked in his.

“you’re so annoying, hannie,” you teased, giggling at his offended expression. 

you glanced down at the ball, turning it between your fingers while focusing on the last red cup sitting alone at the opposite end of the table. 

and maybe it was the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through your system or the way jisung kept looking at you with that smug expression. either way, your thoughts felt hazy.

before taking the shot, your gaze drifted across the room, landing immediately on christopher. 

he was sprawled across one of the couches with a drink in his hand, surrounded by half the fraternity. one arm rested along the back of the couch, his legs spread comfortably, messy blond hair falling into his eyes. 

he’d been watching the entire game, his eyes never leaving you. he tilted his head slightly, that lazy smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

“watch this,” you mouthed, knowing he would read your lips.

without hesitating, your wrist snapped forward. the ball arced cleanly across the table before dropping straight into the center cup, beer splashing over the rim. 

the crowd roared behind you. one of your friends threw an arm around your shoulders before practically lifting you off the floor, laughing like you’d just won a championship instead of a stupid drinking game. 

before you could even catch your breath, jisung’s hand was wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you out of the whole crowd. 

“c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he murmured, leaning close enough for only you to hear. “there’s less people upstairs.” 

you laughed, breathless. you knew damn well neither of you had any intention of talking. he intertwined his fingers with yours and started leading you toward the staircase before anyone could stop you. 

and right before disappearing into the hallway, you looked back, searching for christopher. as always, he was already looking at you with one eyebrow raised. 

you tipped your head toward the second floor, blinking with a flirtatious smirk on your face. the corner of his mouth lifted in that slow, knowing way that always made your knees feel loose. 

he barely nodded, letting you know that the message was received. 

the music faded with every step upstairs. the hallway felt strangely quiet compared to the chaos below, the music little more than a muffled thump beneath your feet. 

some doors were slightly open while others were locked, giving you a vague idea of what could be happening there. neither of you paid them much attention. 

with little grace, jisung pushed open the first empty room he found and slipped you inside after him. you kicked the door shut behind you, the loud slam echoing through the hallway. 

the second the door shut you were on him.

your mouths crashed, wet and urgent. jisung groaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it all night, teeth catching your lower lip, sucking hard enough to sting, the sound vibrating against your tongue.

everything felt desperate, needy. his hands shoved under your top without ceremony, palms burning against your skin, sliding up your ribs until his thumbs pressed into the soft underside of your breasts.

“slow down, ji,” you mumbled against his mouth, a shaky smirk on your lips. your voice was already fading away, panting for air.

but he didn’t waste time.

jisung bent, palms sliding under your tights and lifting you like you weighed nothing. a small whimper slipped from your lips at the sudden movement, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.

the thick, clothed line of his cock pressed hard against your cunt through his jeans, the pressure relentless. you began to feel impatient, your hands roaming along his back, scratching loosely.

your body hit the wall, the impact forcing a whimper from your throat. jisung rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, grinding the rigid length against you, gasping and groaning obscenities. the friction dragging low moans and whines out of you, your thighs trembling around him.

“fuck, you’re driving me crazy. been staring at you all night,” he muttered, biting the side of your neck hard enough to make you whine. “let’s do something about it, yeah?”

with a grin on his face, he carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. the springs squeaked under your weight, bouncing. you pushed up onto your elbows just in time to see him crawling over you, eyes dilated.

he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside, careless. his hands were quickly at your top, dragging it up and off, gaze dropping to watch the way your tits moved with the motion.

he reached for your bra next, fingers hooking the straps and pulling them down your arms in one slow drag. with a smooth motion he unhooked the clasp, throwing your bra far, far away.

both of you were breathing hard. you reached for the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss, messy and deep. jisung groaned against your mouth, the sound raw.

“fuck this,” he panted. “come here, baby.”

his mouth was on your tits before you could catch your breath. your face scrunched when he sucked one of your nipples, his tongue flicking fast and erratic, teeth scraping just enough to make your back arch.

“you sound so pretty,” he said, voice muffled against your breast. “wanna hear more of it.”

his free hand squeezed the other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak while his hips ground down on your crotch, seeking more friction. you could easily feel how hard he was, the thick ridge of him dragging against your cunt through too many annoying layers.

“ji- shit… please, s-slow down,” you breathed, finger twisting into his hair. your voice sounded broken, eyes blurred.

he left your breast with a short pop, leaving a deep, fast kiss on your lips before switching sides, sucking even harder. the wet sounds his mouth filled the small room.

you moaned loudly, biting your lower lip when you felt his free hand slide down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts and shoving inside. he dragged two fingers above your soaked panties, the warmth sending a sick thrill through him.

“mmmh- stop teasing,” you begged, your wet eyes looking at his.

“y’know your wish is my command, baby.”

he shoved his hand inside your panties right away, finding you already slick when he dragged his fingers through your folds. the amusement and arousal painted across his face.

it was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

he bit his lip before pushing two fingers in without warning. you moaned and whimpered loudly, hips jerking up to meet his fast paced thrusts.

jisung cupped one of your tits in his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his cock throbbing inside his pants, screaming for attention.

“already this wet? we’ve barely started,” he teased, a pout on his lips. he pumped his fingers faster, curling them on every pull. “chris’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he feels this.”

and like you had summoned him, the door clicked open.

unbothered, jisung looked over his shoulder. that wide heart-shaped smile growing on his face when he found christopher closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, leaning back against it. your cunt clenched around jisung’s fingers, expectantly.

christopher’s eyes traveled over the scene: your bare chest, jisung’s fingers still buried inside you, the small tears threatening to roll down your cheeks any minute now. he smirked slowly, hungry.

“started without me,” he noticed, tilting his head. his eyes fixed on you.

you lifted your head, voice hoarse. “thought you’d never get here...”

his smile sharpened at your words. he pushed off the door and crossed the room quickly. his hand found jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once, firm, before sliding down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks.

“missed you too, baby,” he left a peck on your swollen lips.

jisung pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, sitting back on his heels with his chest heaving. a satisfied grin on his shiny, wet lips. both of you looked at christopher when he stripped his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest.

he approached the bed with a couple strides, immediately reaching for your shorts, yanking them down your legs along with your panties in one smooth, fast motion.

jisung drooled at the view of your naked body, his hand caressing his crotch, feeling the sick urgency of being buried inside you. 

“want you on your knees. now,” his tone left no room for argument.

you slid off the bed eagerly, obedient. christopher sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. he tugged you between his open legs, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock with ease.

it was already hard, thick, and flushed, the head glistening. you felt your mouth watering at the obscene sight. he wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it lazily with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours.

his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, tapping the tip of his cock against your lower lip teasingly. your cheeks flushed violently at the shameless action.

“open your mouth, pretty girl,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair. “want you to take it all.”

and you did without hesitation, desperate for the feeling of him fucking your mouth until your brain melts.

your eyes sparkled with excitement when his cock slid slowly inside, letting you feel every inch until the head nudged the back of your throat. the full feeling lit you on fire, the heat on your lower abdomen bursting.

“there you go,” he cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek. “just like that, good job.”

you watched him nod to jisung, who was almost in a trance watching the scene developing in front of him.

you could hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans behind you, his warm hands brushing along your back until his fingers dug down on your hips, possessive.

a sharp inhale left you when he dragged you backwards until your ass was pressed against his dick. his hands caressed your thighs, pushing them apart gently, barely holding himself together when he saw your entrance willing for him and only him.

“gonna fuck you while you suck him,” jisung purred, voice bright and filthy. “ready for that, pretty girl?”

a small nod was all he needed. you sobbed aggressively when jisung’s blunt head nudged your soaked, slippery hole. losing your mind every time his free hand squeezed your ass, licking his lower lip.

jisung sank deeper, thrusting in hard until he felt the flushed head of his cock poking your cervix harshly. the stretch punched a moan out of you that vibrated around christopher’s length, making him hiss with pleasure.

“god… look at you. bet you’re dying for me to come in your mouth,” christopher hummed, smiling smugly. his grip on your hair tighter.

you nodded too quickly, too desperately. hollowing your cheeks, you shoved forward onto his cock, not stopping until your nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base. he petted your hair delicately, gripping your hair hard to guide your head in short, deep, controlled thrusts that matched jisung’s pace.

his hips stuttered, your gagging noises arousing him even more. the warm, slick feeling of your mouth sucking his length so eagerly dragging groans and whines out of him. he wouldn’t last any longer if you kept doing it this good.

“y-yeah, eyes on me, pretty girl,” he panted, biting his lower lip, frowning. “wanna see your cute face when i come in your mouth.”

your eyes were pinned on his aroused expression, fighting the urge to roll them back with every stimulus both of them gave you.

some tears started to fall down your cheeks when his thrusts began quicker, chasing his own orgasm now.

his hand gripped on the bedsheets under him, shutting his eyes tight when he started spilling into your mouth. hot pulses hit the back of your throat, making you choke with the big load that was sliding down it.

“shit- wanna see you swallow it,” he whined, releasing the grip on your hair slowly and pulling out his dick with a soft pop.

you did it, swallowing all of it with effort until there was nothing left. you opened your mouth shakily, peeking your tongue out for him. and christopher could just come right there just from that obscene image of you.

and even when you started panting for air, jisung didn’t let you catch a break at all.

the slow thrusts he maintained for a while started to grow a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, making it recoil. his smirk growing at the wet sound of your cunt taking him loud and obscene.

“mmh- so tight. made for my dick,” he panted, slapping your ass twice, making you cry loudly. “you must like being used like this, huh?” his voice was lewd, nasty. “our little frat house toy.”

his words hit somewhere deep and hot inside you, making your cunt clench around his cock even tighter. he reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers were relentless, slick with your arousal. the sensation of his cock pounding into you quickly unraveling you.

christopher caressed your face, shoving his thumb inside your parted mouth. your eyes darted at him, half-lidded.

“look at you, dripping down his cock already,” he mocked, drinking in every inch of your face.

“oh shit- you’re milking me so fucking hard,” jisung huffed, giggling breathless at your broken, incoherent moans. “be good and come for me, baby.”

your eyes rolled back when his pace became even wilder, messier. it was almost animalistic, making you whimper with each deep, erratic thrust. 

“it’s- s’too much, jisung…” you cried, your face scrunched, drooling over christopher’s fingers. “fuck, feel so full… mmh- so, so c-close...”

his free hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further until your throat was exposed. he leaned in, leaving some open-mouthed kisses and sucking your skin before his teeth scraped the shell of your ear.

your legs went numb when your orgasm hit sharp and sudden, thighs shaking, a broken sound tearing out of your abused, sore throat. your whole body was shaking, your hands closed into fists while your head dropped down, shut your wet eyes close.

and jisung fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. his hands brushing your back, soothing you until you came back from your high.

“oh shit-” his legs jerked, hips chasing you. “gonna cum inside you, fuck- you’re milking me…” he babbled, whispering low on your ear.

his whole body was shaking, overstimulated, his only thought being the feeling of your pussy gripping him desperately, completely soaked. his hands went to your tits, squeezing them and using them as support.

his cock twitched helplessly inside you, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. his fingers dug into your breasts hard enough to leave red marks on them. it was messy, you could feel it leaking down your thighs already.

“you did a good job,” christopher praised, his voice warm, soothing. “shower’s down the hall. we’ll clean you up.”

jisung pressed a kiss on your cheek, way softer now, while pulling out of you gently. a wicked smile across his face when he saw the mess he created between your legs. he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sighing loudly.

“then… we can go home and do whatever you want,” he blinked, sticking his tongue out a little, teasing.

you laughed, hoarse, and let them pull you upright between them after getting dressed up again. christopher’s arm stayed around your waist while jisung’s fingers laced through yours.

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

there are producers and songwriters who make hits and then, there is bang chan.

at only twenty-eight, he has somehow become one of the most sought-after producers in the country. inside the company he works in, his name carries an almost ridiculous amount of respect, and outside of it, artists from every major label fight for the chance to work with him, hoping his touch will turn a good song into a great one.

his schedule is packed months in advance, his email never empty, his phone constantly buzzing with texts from managers, artists, other songwriters and producers and friends asking for “just one more session”. and somehow, despite all of it, he never seems overwhelmed, if anything, he thrives on it.

chan loves people. he loves hearing new stories, bouncing ideas off strangers, learning things about someone and bringing them up weeks later. whether it is a rookie trainee nervously introducing themselves or a veteran artist stopping by his studio to complain about something, chan greets everyone with the same warm smile and easy laugh. 

he is the type of person who makes everyone else feel important, which is probably why everyone adores him. no matter how busy he is, and he is always busy, chan always finds time for people.

he has his own studio in the company, a little room on the fourth floor that has practically become his second home. half-finished lyric sheets cover every available surface and coffee cups decorate his desk like trophies. his keyboard is worn smooth from years of use and the speakers have blasted everything from orchestral demos to experimental hip-hop until two in the morning more times than he could count.

most people joke that he should just move a bed into the studio, and it isn’t entirely inaccurate. he arrives before almost everyone else and most nights he is still there long after everyone has gone home. but everyday before he goes home, he follows the same routine: saves whatever he’s working on, stretches until every muscle in his back cracks, throws on his hoodie, grabs his bag, turns off the light and then goes to the café that’s inside the building. 

officially, it’s because he desperately needs caffeine after spending hours buried in music. unofficially, well… the caffeine is only part of the reason why.

tucked inside the company’s lobby, there is a small café that stays open late to accommodate employees with late schedules. most people come for convenience, the coffee is surprisingly good and the pastries fresh, and it saves them from having to find somewhere else still open. 

chan had started going there almost a year ago and at first, it really had just been for the coffee but then, he had met you. now it has become the one part of his day he looks forward to more than anything else.

it isn’t subtle, at least not to anyone paying attention. his coworkers had noticed how he always volunteered to “make a trip downstairs” whenever they all wanted something. your coworkers had noticed how he’d linger at the counter just a little longer than necessary, managing to stretch a thirty-second transaction into a five-minute conversation, just so he could be there with you.

everyone knows he likes you, or everyone except you, as far as chan can tell. or maybe you do know and you’re just kind enough not to embarrass him. either way, it doesn’t stop him. every single night, without fail, chan finds himself standing in front of the café counter with a tired smile, pretending he is there for the caffeine when in reality, he is there because you are.

and today is no different. 

when chan leaves his studio, ready to go home, a couple of trainees hurry towards the lift with their bags slung over their shoulders, looking just as exhausted as he feels. he also sees a security guard who offers him a nod when he sees him.

“calling it a night?”, he asks chan.

he smiles, “trying to”

the guard laughs, “i’ll believe it when i stop seeing your studio light every single night”

chan chuckles under his breath before he waves goodbye and makes his way downstairs. the familiar smell of freshly ground coffee reaches him before the café even comes into view and he can see the warm lights spilling into the lobby, making the café feel almost cozy against the emptiness of the building. 

there are only two customers sitting by the windows, their laptops open in front of them. and behind the counter, you, wiping down the espresso machine and humming softly to whatever playlist the café has on tonight.

chan feels the corners of his mouth lift automatically because it doesn’t matter how exhausted he is, seeing you erases almost all of it. you turn around and find him there, staring at you. your face brightens into a smile that looks so effortless it makes his stomach flip every single time. 

“there he is”, you say.

chan walks over, resting one arm against the counter.

“i was wondering when you were gonna come today”, you tell him.

“well, seeing that i practically lived here… you could have come to see me before”

you tilt your head, pretending to think, “i guess so…”, you laugh then, which makes him laugh too, “so… the usual?”

“the usual”, he says as he nods his head.

“one large americano with one extra shot, no sugar, and…”

chan points at you, “very, very hot”

you roll your eyes with a smile before turning towards the machine.

“one lava americano coming right up”, you say.

chan watches you move around behind the counter with ease - you work quickly, but never look rushed. every movement is smooth, from grinding the beans to steaming the water and sealing the cup. then you walk back over and slide it across the counter towards him.

“extra hot”, you say as he grabs the cup.

the two words are delivered with the exact same tone every night. it had become an inside joke months ago and you said it every single time, without fail.

chan looks down at the cup before looking back at you, “you’ll never let that go, will you?”

“never”, you say as you shake your head.

“one day i’ll order it iced just to shock you”

you pretend to gasp, “i’ll refuse to serve it”

he laughs, “i don’t think you can do that”

“i don’t care, it’d be worth it”

he laughs again, shaking his head as he wraps both of his hands around the cup which is really hot, exactly how he likes it.

“so”, you ask him after a moment, “big project today?”

“how did you know?”

“you have the, i don’t know… “this that new pop” kind of face”

he snorts, “what? y/n what does that even mean?”

you laugh too, “i don’t know, but i’m sure you made a banger today”

he laughs again and then takes a careful sip of the coffee before signing happily.

“okay, you really weren’t kidding”, he says.

“what?”, you say.

“it is extra hot”

you cross your arms over your chest, “you asked for very, very hot”

“i know, but i think this could be considered plasma”, he teases you.

“you’ll survive, i’d hate to lose my favourite fan”, the words slip out before you can stop them and you try to take them back, but you can’t, “i mean of my coffee, fan of my coffee, because you like it and um-”

chan’s grin spreads slowly across his face, “oh?”

you close your eyes and groan, “don’t”

“i’m your favourite?”

“i didn’t say that”

“you literally did”

“i didn’t mean that”, you say, hiding your face behind your hands now.

“i’ll remember this day forever”, he says, placing one of his hands on his chest.

you shake your head, laughing despite yourself, “ugh, you’re impossible”, and then lower your hands so you can look at him again. 

he stays there for another few minutes, talking with you as he drinks his coffee, and when he finishes it, he looks around the café, seeing that there’s only you two there now and then he towards the front doors.

“i should probably let you finish closing”, he says.

“yeah, you probably should”, you say but neither of you moves.

he smiles at you again, “well…”

“well…”

“this is usually where i say goodnight”, he says.

“yeah, and i tell you not to work too late at home”

“and then i promise you i won’t”

“and then i pretend i believe you”, you say as you smile knowingly.

he chuckles before taking a small step backwards, “goodnight, y/n”

“goodnight, chris”

he turns towards the exit, makes it about eight steps and then stops. his heart is pounding so loudly he is convinced you can hear it from behind the counter. 

he’d spent weeks telling himself he’d ask you on a date and every single night he’d walked away thinking “i’ll do it tomorrow”. tomorrow became next week, and next week became next month.

if he doesn’t ask you now, he probably never will, so before he can overthink it, he turns around.

“hey”

you look up immediately, “what?”

he walks back towards the counter, rubbing the back of his neck.

“so…”, he says, and the confidence that everyone else always sees has completely disappeared, “if this is weird, you can absolutely say no”

your eyebrows lift slightly, “okay…”

“i was wondering…”, he says and then he laughs nervously, “shit, this is much harder than i thought it’d be”

“come on, you can do it”, you say, smiling at him.

the encouragement makes him smile too, “i was wondering if…”, he takes a breath, “if you’d maybe want to have dinner with me sometime”

for a second, the café seems completely silent, the espresso machine isn’t hissing and the music fades into the background. chan is convinced he’s forgotten how to breathe but then you smile at him and that makes every ounce of anxiety worth it.

“i’d really like that, chris”

he blinks, surprised, “really?”

“really”, you say, smiling even more.

the grin that spreads across his face is impossible to hide, “so that’s…”

“a yes”, you say.

“a yes”, he says as he laughs, almost in disbelief, “i was fully prepared for you to tell me you weren’t interested”

“oh, i’m definitely interested”, you say, giggling, and he swears that sound alone could make even the worst day worth enduring.

he looks down for a second, smiling to himself, “wow, okay, i- umm…”, he starts, trying to sound casual even though he is certain he is glowing, “you work tomorrow, right?”

“i do”

“the evening shift?”

you give him a curious look, “yeah”

he smiles sheepishly, “i already knew that, i might’ve… accidentally memorised your schedule”

you stare at him for a second, “accidentally? i’m gonna say that’s either really sweet or slightly concerning”

“i choose sweet”

you laugh at his answer, “yeah, i figured you would”

“okay, so… i’ll wait for you after your shift”

“you don’t have to do that, chris”

“i want to”, he says, smiling at you.

you can’t help but reciprocate, “okay, so it’s a date then”

his heart nearly stops, “it’s a date, yeah”

the words echo in his head like the catchiest chorus he’s ever written. you both stand there smiling at each other for another moment before you finally break the silence.

“you should go home and sleep, chris”

“i’ll think about it”, he says.

you laugh, “okay, see you tomorrow, chris”

he waves his hand, a little goodbye just for you, “see you tomorrow, y/n”

this time, when he walks towards the door, he doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t need to. he pushes through the glass entrance with the biggest smile he’s worn in months and his mind already racing ahead to tomorrow evening.

for once, he can’t wait for the next day to begin.

the front door clicks shut behind chan as he enters his apartment, the sound echoing like a signal that the day is finally over. he drops his bag by the entrance, his shoulders rolling back as he exhales a long, tired breath. he kicks off his shoes and pads straight towards the bathroom, already taking off his clothes and tossing them aside before he steps inside the shower.

water cascades over his broad chest and down the ridges of his abs, washing away the tension in his muscles. he washes his body starting with his arms and stomach, and then he moves lower, where his cock hangs heavy between his thighs. he gives a few lazy strokes to clean himself and before they turn into something more, he stops himself with a quiet chuckle.

not yet, he has plans for later.

once he’s done, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before heading to the kitchen. he prepares something easy and fast and then he eats standing at the counter, his mind already drifting towards what is coming next. dinner done, he cleans the plate and makes his way to his bedroom, grabbing his phone and closing the door behind him.

chan lets the towel drop and then stretches out on his bed, completely naked and relaxed. this is his ritual now, the one thing that helps him unwind completely. he opens the familiar page and scrolls past the endless thumbnails until his eyes land on the one profile that always stops him cold. months ago he’d clicked on her livestream by accident and nothing had been the same since. something about her pulls him in every single time. he has never seen her face, never heard her voice, but her body moves like it is made for his eyes alone. the way she touches herself, the way she seems to know exactly how to drive her viewers insane without saying a word… it’s hypnotic. 

he is about to pull up one of her older livestreams when a notification pops up on the screen and his pulse kicks harder. 

angelofyourdreams is live.

she is streaming right this second.

chan taps in immediately, his screen filling with her familiar setup and the chat already exploding with comments and donations. she is there in the centre of the frame, wearing nothing but a lingerie set that barely covers anything, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide her hard nipples pressing against it, dark and tempting through the material. between her spread thighs the lace is visibly soaked, clinging to the outline of her pussy lips, a dark wet patch growing as she shifts.

her hands move slowly, tracing over her own skin. her fingers slide up her stomach, cup her breasts and then punch her nipples through the lace. she rubs herself over her panties next, pressing two fingers against her clit and the wet spot spreads wider.

leethighs: fuck i’m stroking so hard for you right now

dirtypup: my cock is throbbing just watching you

quokkjone: wish i could bury my tongue in that pussy

chan can’t help but comment too.

midnightwolf: i’d fuck you so deep you’d forget your own name

his hand wraps around his cock then. he’s already half-hard just from watching her and the first firm stroke makes him groan low in his throat. he grips the base tight, his thumb swiping over the tip to spread the precum that had gathered there. on screen, he sees the girl taking her bra off and then hooking her thumbs into the waistband of the lace and peeling it down her legs until she’s completely naked.

her cunt is glistening, the lips swollen and shiny with her arousal, her clit peeking out from its hood. she spreads her thighs wider for the camera and lets her fingers slide through her folds, gathering her juices before circling her entrance. she pushes two fingers inside and then rolls her hips to meet them. chan matches the her rhythm, stroking himself as he watches her fuck herself on her own hand, adding another finger as her other hand stays on her clit, making her thighs tremble. 

aussielord: i’m coming already fuck

maknaeontop: your pussy looks so tight and perfect

artprince69: wish those were my fingers instead 

strongspear: i’d fill you up so much it’d leak out for days princess

chan’s breathing grows ragged and his hand moves faster, squeezing harder now. he can feel the heat building low in his gut, his balls tightening as he watches her fingers disappear inside her dripping cunt again and again. she arches off the bed, her body shaking, and he knows she’s close, and he is right there with her.

his stokes turn desperate, his hips lifting off the mattress to fuck into his own hand and then, the pressure snaps all at once. thick ropes of cum shoot across his stomach and chest while on screen the girl comes hard around her fingers, her thighs clamping together as her whole body shakes.

once her orgasm ends, she pulls her fingers out of her and then reaches out to end the livestream, the screen going dark. chan lies back against the pillows, his chest heaving and his cum cooling on his skin. a deep sigh leaves him, his body now loose and the tension from work completely gone.

as soon as chan enters the café, he feels his heart beating noticeably faster and he catches himself smiling before he even sees you. 

he had been distracted the entire day, not because of work, he always got that part done. he had been thinking about you and your date all day, and everyone working with him could see his mind was somewhere else that day. 

as he gets closer to the counter, he sees that you aren’t behind the counter. instead, there’s another barista cleaning up the espresso machine. she looks up the moment she hears chan coming in, her expression turning into a knowing grin.

“well, look who it is”, she says.

chan laughs softly, “hi”

“you’re not coming for the coffee today, aren’t you?”

“not today, no”

she leans both elbows on the counter, “so… you finally asked her out, huh?”

he rubs the back of his neck, “i did, yeah”

she nods her head and then points towards the hallway leading to the staff room, “she’s in the back changing”

chan smiles at her, “that’s okay, no rush”

“you look nervous”

chan looks away, “i am nervous”

she reaches beneath the counter and sets a glass of water in front of him, “here, for the nerves”

“thank you”, he says as he takes the glass.

a comfortable silence settles between them for a moment before she speaks again.

“i’m glad you finally asked her out”

chan looks up, “you are?”

she smiles warmly, “she’s really looking forward to seeing you”

his heart skips, “really?”

she shrugs innocently, “yes… but i didn’t tell you anything, it’s our secret”

before he can say anything else, the staff room door opens. chan turns to look and forgets what he was about to say. you step out, no longer wearing the café uniform he’d grown so used to seeing. instead, you’d changed into clothes that were simple and comfortable, and somehow they suited you perfectly. your hair, usually tied back while you worked, now frames your face naturally. 

you walk over to him as soon as you see him.

“sorry”, you say. 

chan smiles at you, “you don’t have to apologise”

“i made you wait”

“i would’ve waited longer”

the words come out before he can stop them and you smile, looking down for just a second.

“you’re sweet”, you tell him.

he scratches the back of his neck and laughs as he looks down, “i try”

your coworker watches the exchange with an expression that screams “finally” and then she claps her hands together.

“okay”, she says and you both turn to look at her, “i’m just gonna stand here and pretend that i don’t exist”

chan and you laugh and then he turns to look at you, “ready?”

you look at him and nod your head, “ready”

you both walk towards the door and he opens it for you, but before you can step out, your coworker’s voice calls after you.

“no show today, angel?”

you stop halfway through the door and look back over your shoulder, a small laugh escaping you.

“no show today, no”

she laughs and waves you both goodbye, “enjoy your night!”

“we will”, you say and then you both leave.

chan looks at you for a brief second.

angel?

that’s an unusual nickname, maybe it’s something your coworkers had come up with. it fits, he supposes. 

“i’m sorry”, he hears you say suddenly.

“for what?”, he looks at you.

“she’s nosy”

he laughs then, “it’s fine, don’t worry”

he opens the front door of the building, letting the air drift inside.

“dinner?”, he asks you.

you smile at him again, “dinner”

side by side, you step out into the night, completely unaware that the casual nickname chan has just overhead will stay in the back of his mind for longer than either of you could have imagined.

if someone asked chan the next morning how the food was, he honestly wouldn’t be able to answer, and it’s not because it’s not good, it’s because he just isn’t paying nearly as much attention to it as he’s paying to you.

the restaurant has turned out to be exactly the kind of place he’d hoped you’d enjoy. it’s modern with warm lighting hanging from the ceiling, wooden tables scattered across the dining area and the music loud enough to create a lively atmosphere but not so loud that people can’t talk.

one half of the floor is dedicated to the restaurant itself and the other is almost like a lounge. there’s a polished wooden bar stretched along one wall while groups of friends laugh over games of billiards, darts, table football, and arcade machines tucked into the corners. glasses clink together every few seconds and every now and then someone cheers loudly after sinking a difficult shot.

it feels relaxed and comfortable, and most importantly, there isn’t a single awkward silence between the two of you, not once.

“you actually did that?”, you ask him between laughs.

he laughs too, “i swear”

“you expect me to believe you accidentally sent the demo to the ceo instead of the artist?”

“it was one time”

you burst into laughter, setting your fork down before you drop it and then you hide your face behind your water glass. he smiles into his own drink because, god, this is so much easier than he’d imagined it was gonna be. 

for months he’d worried that, outside the café, the conversations would dry up, that without your coffee and his late night routines, you’d realise he wasn’t all that interesting.

instead, the hours keep disappearing. you’d talked about everything: your childhood memories, favourite movies, your favourite singers, the type of books you like, the movies you see.

now dinner plates have long since disappeared, replaced by two desserts sitting between you. you absentmindedly pick at yours while chan steals part of it.

“hey!”, you tell him, pretending to be mad at him.

“i’m hungry”

“you ate an entire steak, chris”

“i’m still hungry”

you shake your head, but he can see you’re smiling, “i can’t believe you”

“i will buy you another one”

“i don’t want another one, i physically can’t eat it”

“i’ll help you”

another laugh, another easy smile and another moment where chan finds himself thinking that this is the best day he’s had in years.

as you continue eating, your attention drifts for just a moment. most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but chan did. your eyes wander towards the lounge section of the restaurant, specifically towards the billiards tables. a group of friends has just finished a game, laughing as one of them celebrates what seemed like an impossible shot.

you watch them for a second then quickly look back down at your dessert as though you haven’t been looking at all.

chan smiles to himself, “you wanna play?”

your head snaps back up, “what?”

he nods his head towards the billiards table, “billiards”

“how did you-”

“you’ve looked over there five times”

“i have not”

“yes, you have”, he says, laughing softly.

“no, i was just…”, you glance over again almost instinctively, “looking”

“so you don’t want to”

you laugh a bit, “it looks fun”

“then let’s play”

you look back at him, “i’ve never actually played before”

“so?”

a tiny smile tugs at your lips, “i… i don’t know how to play, chris”

he leans forward slightly, “you trust me?”

you meet his eyes for just a second, and then nod your head, smiling at him. 

“i do”

“then let me teach you”, he says.

there is something about the way he says it that makes it very difficult to say no.

“okay, fine”, you say.

his smile grows immediately, “perfect”

the waiter appears a few moments later with the bill and before you can even reach it, chan picks it up.

“oh no”, you tell him.

“what?”

“we’re splitting it”

“we’re not”, he says, getting his wallet out to pay.

“chris!”

“i invited you”

“that doesn’t matter”, you say as you reach for the bill but he pulls it away, then you reach again and he holds it higher, “chris!”

“what?”, he says again, laughing now.

you cross your arms, “this is not fair”

he smiles innocently, “i don’t see the problem”

“the problem is you’re paying for everything”

“i don’t see a problem there”

he hands over his card before you have another opportunity to protest again. once he gets it back, chan thanks the waiter before standing up and offering you his hand.

“come on”

you look at his outstretched hand for a moment before smiling at him and taking it. his fingers are warm but so are yours and neither of you mentions the fact that neither of you lets go immediately.

most of the billiards tables are occupied by noisy groups but one sits empty beneath a hanging lamp. chan lets go of your hand and moves to pick up two cues from the rack and hand one to you.

“i have absolutely no idea of what i’m supposed to do”, you say as you stare at it.

he laughs, “i know”

“i could hit you with a ball”

“i trust you”, he says as he laughs harder.

you look at the table before you look at the cue in your hands again, “okay”, and a nervous smile spreads across your face.

he steps beside you, already reaching for the triangle rack to set up the balls.

“professor bang”, you say.

“mmhm?”

“please try not to fail your first and only student”, you tease him.

he looks over his shoulder with a grin, “i make no promises”

he finishes arranging the balls into a perfect triangle, then picks up the white ball and places it carefully on the table before he turns to look at you.

“okay”, he says, slipping into the teacher mode, “first lesson”

you stand up straighter, “i’m listening”

“you’re not supposed to hold the cue like you’re about to fight someone”

you look down at it, “i’m holding it wrong?”

“a little”

“a little?”

he smiles, “a lot”

you laugh, “okay, show me how to do it”

chan moves so he can adjust his own cue first and then you move, trying to copy him as best as you can, keyword being trying. you try to copy his hands, where he puts them and how he puts them, one a bit higher and the other on the flat felt, with his fingers a bit open so the cue can slide through.

you keep doing it wrong and he keeps laughing at you, so loud that a couple at the next table glances over with amused smiles. he moves next to you to adjust your grip first, moving your fingers only slightly, then he gestures towards your other hand and you flatten your palm again on the felt.

“okay”, he says, “see? it’s not that hard”

you look down and laugh, “i guess you’re earning your title, professor bang”

he circles the table, studying the angle and then points towards one of the striped balls, “your goal is that one”

you follow his finger, “that seems very far away”

“you’ve got this”

you sigh and then lean forward exactly as he’d shown you, “this is harder than it looks”

“it is”, he says laughing.

“so why do people make it seem easy?”

“years of practice”

“great”, you say, “okay… like this?”

“yeah, now just… nice and easy”, he says, his grin widening.

you nod your head, looking at the ball, “nice and easy”

you move the cue forward and the white ball rolls far more gently than either of you expected, nudging the striped ball just enough for it to move towards the pocket before stopping a few inches short.

you look at it, “i almost did it!”

chan smiles, “that’s the spirit”

you look up at him with a proud grin that makes him laugh all over again.

“i think i like having my own personal teacher”

“oh really? but i’m expensive”, he says, walking towards you now.

“how expensive?”

he pretends to think for a moment, “one dessert on our next date”

you walk closer to him, your chests almost touching, “so you’re already planning a next time?”

chan’s smile grows, “i’m hoping there’s gonna be one”

your own smile answers him before your words ever could, “i think we can arrange that”

the noisy chatter from the other tables fades into a low hum as the two of you continue playing. the shots keep getting more and more difficult, but chan continues to tell you and show you how you’re supposed to do it each time.

“try this one”, he says at one point, stepping in close.

his chest nearly grazes your back as he reaches around to guide your movements. his hands settle over yours on the cue, warm and firm, adjusting your grip. you feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the wood and felt of the table.

you lean forward and he moves right behind you, his body aligning with yours. his palms slide down to your hips to correct your posture, his thumbs pressing lightly into the curve  just above your waistband. you shift your weight and the cue slides forward, sending the white ball spinning before hitting the striped ball, which drops into the corner pocket.

“very good”, chan breathes against your ear, his approval sending a shiver down your spine.

the game progresses with increasing intimacy. every complicated shot brings him behind you again, his body getting closer to yours each time. his hands cover yours on the felt, guiding the cue with gentle pressure. when you miss a shot, he laughs softly and repositions you, one of his arms wrapping around your middle to steady your balance. 

his breath ghosts over your neck as he explains what you have to do, but his touch on your body speaks louder, moving lower and lower each time.

you both know the line you’re toeing and your movements grow bolder in response to his. you press back slightly at one point, your ass brushing the front of his jeans. chan inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist for a split second before he forces himself to focus on the game. 

he tries to think of anything else but your body is right there, warm and inviting. he moves his hips back just enough to create some space between your bodies, willing his cock not to respond, reciting the rules of the game in his head like a mantra.

another shot lines up and he steps in again, closer than before. his chest presses to your back as he adjusts your arm. you feel the solid line of him, the way his thighs bracket yours. the cue moves, you hear the balls clack, but neither of you tracks the result. his hand moves again, his palm flattening against your hip, pulling you closer to him.

you turn slowly in his hold, your cue still in your hand, your chest brushing with every breath now. the space between you shrinks to nothing. his eyes drop to your lips, dark and hungry, mirroring the way yours fix on his. the air thickens and you can feel his hand on your waist, his thumb stroking once in a daring caress, but before he can close the distance, you speak first.

“we should play another game”

chan nods his head, completely lost, his gaze still locked on your mouth as if he hasn’t processed what you just said.

“take me home, chris”, you continue, the suggestion hanging between you like a spark waiting to ignite, and at that moment, you both know you’re gonna get burned.

the ride home feels like an eternity, the heat from your earlier touches still lingering on your skin, both of you aware that the game has shifted from cues and balls to something far more primal, and that’s why once you close the door of your apartment behind you, everything detonates.

your lips crash onto his without hesitation, your hands pulling him closer to you. chan groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to lift you slightly, pinning you back against the wall. your tongues slide together in a desperate tangle, month of pining after each other exploding in a hungry kiss. 

his hands roam your body boldly now, one sliding down to grip your ass and pull you closer, his cock pressing against your thigh through your clothes. you grind forward in response, your fingers threading into his hair to angle the kiss deeper, sucking on his tongue as the tension from the game finally unleashes in full force. your bodies move in sync, your hips rolling and your mouths devouring each other.

“bedroom”, he says between kisses, his voice already wrecked, “where’s your room?”

“down the hall, third door on the right”

he carries you there with your legs locked around his waist and your mouths still fused together. the second your door closes behind you, he pins you against it, your back hitting the wood with a soft thud. his hips rock forwards, grinding his cock against your soaked panties through your clothes, the friction sending sparks up your spine.

“you have no idea”, he says against your lips, his voice low and rough, “how long i’ve thought about having you like this”

you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, “is that why you watch my lives? so you can have filthy fantasies about me?”

chan freezes. his hands stay on your body but he pulls back an inch, his breathing hard and his eyes wide with sudden shock. you slide down until your feet touch the floor, then step closer again, pressing your body against his. your fingers trace up his chest as you look up at him through your lashes.

“chris… i’m the camgirl you always watch”, you say, watching the realisation dawn across his face.

“no show today, angel?”

angel.

show.

that’s what your coworker had said before you left the café. the username of the girl he watches is angelofyourdreams and he is sure that if he checks his phone now, there won’t be a livestream happening, which there normally would be, like every night. 

he stares at you, his chest heaving as the pieces click into place so fast you can almost see the moment it hits him. 

his pupils blow wide, his lips parting on a shaky exhale, but you don’t give him time to speak. you lean in and press your mouth to the column of his throat, kissing the hot skin there before dragging your tongue along his pulse point.

“i always knew you watched me”, you murmur between kisses, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “your username, the way you comment… i recognised you the second you sent the first one, chris”, your teeth graze his earlobe, “and i find it so fucking hot that you’ve been watching me all this time. that you get hard for me every night and you’ve probably jerked off to my lives more times than you can count”

chan’s whole body jerks. his hand tighten on your waist like he is physically holding himself back from coming right there in his pants. a low, broken sound leaves his throat as your lips move lower, sucking a mark just above his collarbone while your hand slides down to palm the thick bulge straining against his zipper.

“all those nights you watched me finger myself, spread my legs, come all over my hand while you stroked your cock”, you continue, your voice a sinful whisper against his skin as your fingers work his belt open with deliberate slowness, “did you imagine bending me over the desk in your studio? fucking me in the café? making me ride you until i scream your name?”, you kiss back up to his jaw, then catch his lower lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to sting before releasing it, “show me, chris. show me every single thing you’ve ever wanted to do to me”

something inside chan snaps the second those words leave your lips. the realisation that you had known it was him all along, that you had watched his filthy comments night after night and then smiled sweetly at him in the café the next day, hits him like a live wire. his eyes darken and his jaw clenches as the last thread of control burns away. the image of you pretending to be innocent while you knew exactly what he did to himself thinking about you - or rather the camgirl - made something primal roar to life in his chest.

before you can react, his mouth crashes back onto yours with bruising force. his hands move with frantic purpose, yanking all of your clothes off until you’re both completely naked in the middle of your room. his cock stands thick and heavy between you, already leaking at the tip from how worked up he is. 

“on your knees”, he says, his voice commanding but threaded with raw need, “right here on the floor”

you drop to your knees without hesitation and the moment you are settled, his cock is right in front of your face. one of his hands wraps around the base, slowly stroking himself while the other slides into your hair, his fingers threading deep and gripping tight. he pumps his fist a couple of times, letting you watch the way his thumb smears the precum across the tip.

“i’m going to fuck your throat”, he says, “for every single time you knew it was me watching you. for every night you spread your legs on camera knowing i was stroking my cock to you. for seeing me every day and still pretending you were so sweet and innocent”, his grip in your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, “you knew and you let me suffer”

you look up at him through your lashes, your lips already parting and your voice trembling with want, “please, use me, chris. fuck my mouth however you want. i want it”

chan’s breath hitches and then he guides the head of his cock to your lips, rubbing the tip across them until they glisten.

“open”, he says.

you obey instantly, your tongue flicking out to taste him. he pushes forward slowly at first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he slides over your tongue and deeper. the hand in your hair holds you steady while the other stays wrapped around the base as he moves his cock into your mouth.

“fuck… that’s it”, he groans when your lips close around him, “suck me just like that”

he starts to move, letting you get used to his cock on your mouth. your tongue presses up against the underside of his cock, swirling around the tip every time he pulls back. saliva quickly coats him, making each slide wetter and filthier and he just watches your mouth stretch around him with hungry eyes, as your eyes roll back.

“i’ve been dreaming about this”; he says as his hips roll forward a little harder, “look at you, on your knees for me”

he pushes deeper on the next thrust, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. you gag softly, some tears rolling down your face, but you don’t pull away, and the sight makes him curse under his breath.

“fuck… you’re so fucking perfect”, he says, his voice strained, “taking it so well. breathe through your nose, baby. let me in”

he holds your head gently but firmly and thrusts again, this time sinking until your nose nearly touches his stomach. more tears spill down your cheeks from the pressure, but the heat in his gaze only intensifies. he pulls back, letting you gasp for air, making strings of spit connect your lips to his cock and then he pushes in again. 

he continues fucking your mouth and every time he hits the back of your throat you swallow around him, the tight squeeze making his thighs tremble. his hand in your hair never hurts, just keeps you there, exactly where he wants you.

“that’s it, y/n… just like that. suck harder- fuck, yes”, his voice cracks on the last word when you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper on your own.

you keep your eyes on him, watching the way his abs flex and his jaw goes slack with pleasure. he is so hard it almost hurts, the veins of his cock pulsing against your tongue.

“i-i’m gonna come”, he warns you, “want it in your mouth?”

you moan around him in answer and then he thrusts faster, chasing his release, the hand in your hair tightening as his control finally fails. with a broken groan, he buries himself as deep as he can and comes hard. his cum floods your mouth, hot and heavy, some of it spilling from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin because there is simply too much.

he keeps thrusting through it, riding out every wave while you swallow what you can, the rest leaking messily down your throat and onto your chest and nipples. his whole body shakes with the force of it, a wrecked sound leaving his chest as he finally slows, still holding your head gently.

he pulls out slowly, his cock twitching and a final bead of cum dripping from the tip onto your tongue. you look up at him, your lips swollen, your chin shiny with his cum and your eyes glassy, and he lets out a shaky exhale at the sight. he then slides his arms and pulls you up against him. he starts kissing you again, tasting his own cum on your tongue. 

he walks you backwards without breaking the kiss, guiding you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. you sit down on the mattress and he sinks to his knees between your spread thighs. he moves to your collarbone, pressing slow and open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

his tongue moves lower, finding the streaks of his cum that had dripped onto your chest. he licks your nipples, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and cleaning every drop with his tongue, making your back arch, before he moves to the other nipple.

“f-fuck… chris”, you moan as you try to move closer to him.

his lips move lower again, over the curve of your stomach. then he moves you just enough to have your feet planted on the floor while your back rests flat on the bed, the position leaving you completely open for him. 

chan’s tongue drags a stripe from your entrance to your clit, before he seals his lip around it and sucks. a broken moan tears from your throat as he licks and sucks you, each of them perfectly timed to keep you hovering right on the edge without tipping over. his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit for a few seconds then slows to long and lazy strokes that have you grinding down against his face.

“chris- please”, you gasp as your fingers move to his hair, “more. i-i need more”

he hums against you and then one of his fingers slides through your folds, gathering your juices before he presses it inside, then adds a second finger. his mouth stays on your clit, sucking and licking and driving you insane. every time your walls started to flutter around his fingers, he stops, pulling back just enough that the orgasm slips away again.

“fuck, you taste even better than i imagined”, he says against your soaked cunt, “i could stay here for hours”, he says as he licks another slow stripe, then sucks your clit between his plump lips.

your hips buck hard but he holds you down with one strong hand across your lower belly. you are shaking, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“please, chris, please let me come. i can’t take it anymore”

he answers you by thrusting his fingers deeper while his tongue works on your clit. the pressure builds again, hotter and sharper than before, your thighs shaking around his head, but just as you feel yourself about to tip over, he slows once more, keeping you right on the precipice.

“i’m begging you”, you sob, your hips twitching uselessly against his hold, “let me come, p-please”

chan groans low in his throat and he finally gives in. his fingers curl hard against that perfect spot that makes you stop breathing while his mouth sucks your clit harder and you finally hurtle over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you. your walls clench around his fingers and he doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and sucking and fingering you until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and broken little cries spill from your lips. 

he presses one last gentle kiss to your oversensitive clit before he pulls his fingers free. he looks up at you from between your thighs, his lips shiny and his eyes dark with satisfaction. your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, the aftershocks still rippling through you.

his hands slide beneath your body, lifting you as he rises from his knees. he moves you further onto the bed, lying you down properly with your head on the pillows before he climbs over you. his body covers yours completely, skin pressed to skin, and his mouth finds yours again. your hands roam everywhere, over the hard planes of his shoulders, down the flexing muscles of his back, on his neck, moving to his ass to pull him closer to you.

“i wanted this so badly”, he says against you lips, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you”

your hands keep exploring, your fingers tracing every muscle and your nails scraping down his sides until he shivers. the kiss grows messier, your tongues chasing each other while your bodies rock together in small and needy movements.

suddenly, you press your hands against chan’s chest and push him. he lets you roll him onto his back without resistance, letting you straddle his hips as you lay on top of him now. your hands stay on his chest, pinning him down while you look at him with a wicked little smile.

“you’re not the only one who’s had fantasies”, you tell him, your voice low and husky, “i’ve thought about you for months. about how it would feel to just sit on your cock and keep you inside me, warming you while you throb and ache”

his eyes widen at your words.

cock warming.

his cock jerks hard against your ass at the image, already swelling again, but at the same time, he’s not sure if he’s gonna last, he thinks the image alone could make him come there and then. 

“shit- wait, i don’t know if i can-”, he says, his voice rough with sudden desperation, but you cut him off with a kiss.

your tongue pushes into his mouth and you nip at his bottom lip before releasing him, “shh, it’s my turn now”

you shift up on your knees, reaching between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock. you drag the head through your folds, coating him in your arousal before lining him up. you start pushing him inside you, both of you moaning at the same time. you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until your ass meets his hips and he is buried inside you. the stretch burns so good you have to pause, breathing hard, feeling every throb of him against your inner walls. 

“please, m-move”, chan begs you, his voice cracking as his hands move to your hips, his fingers digging in, “fuck- you feel so tight. please ride me”

you shake your head, staying perfectly still, clenching around him deliberately before you lean down to kiss along his jaw.

“you know, i’ve imagined this exact moment a lot of times”, you say as your lips brush his ear, “i’d use my fingers and pretend they were your cock, just feeling them inside me like this. but it wasn’t what i wanted, i wanted to feel you get harder and harder until you couldn’t take it anymore”

he groans, his hips moving upwards, but you press down harder, keeping him pinned there.

“i also fantasised about waking up with you already inside me”, you continue, your voice breathy, “about you filling me up in the middle of the night and just staying there, your cock throbbing while i clenched around you. we could try that another day if you want”

you can feel him swelling even more inside you, the head of his cock pressing deeper with every word you say. his breathing turns ragged, his chest heaving under your hands.

“y/n, please… i-i’m gonna come if you don’t move”, he says, his voice strained.

you finally start to move, slowly, very slowly, lifting just a bit before sinking back down. the drag of him against your walls makes you both moan. your clit brushes against the base of his cock with every move, sending sparks through your core. 

chan’s grip tightens on your hips, “faster, p-please, go faster”, he begs you, his eyes glassy with need.

you give him what he wants and pick up the pace until your thighs burn and the wet sounds of your bodies fill the room. his hand slides between you, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing circles that make your vision blur. 

you fall forward on his chest, your mouths crashing together in a kiss while your hips keep moving and you keep swallowing each other’s moans as the pleasure builds higher.

“fuck, i’m… i’m close”, chan gasps against your lips, his fingers working your clit faster while his other hand moves to your ass, helping you move on top of him.

you clench around him hard, riding him with quick and shallow rolls that drag your clit against his skin with every thrust. his cock pulses inside you, thick and hot, and the feeling pushes you right to the edge.

“come with me, chris”, you whisper, your voice breaking, “fill me up, please”

the orgasms hit both of you at once. your walls clamp down around him while he thrusts up hard, burying himself deep as he spills inside you. his cum fills your cunt, mixing with your own juices as you shake on top of him. the kiss turns sloppy, all tongue and desperate sounds while your bodies shake together through every wave. you stay locked like that, trembling as the room spins around you. 

his cock still pulses faintly inside your cunt, the warm mix of your juices and his cum leaking out around his softening cock with every tiny shift. you move your head just enough to look at him and brush some strands of hair from his forehead with gentle fingers.

“you okay, chris?”, you whisper, your voice hoarse from all the moaning.

he nods, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as his hands slide up your back in soothing strokes, “yeah… more than okay. you?”

you nod your head, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before nuzzling into his neck. slowly, you begin to move again, but this time it’s tender. you rock your hips in gentle circles, feeling his cock twitch and start to stir once more inside you, but you keep it unhurried, savouring the connection.

chan groans softly and moves you so he can kiss you again. you melt into the kiss, your hands cupping his face as you suck gently on his lower lip, the kiss turning wet and sensual, your mouths parting and reconnecting with soft sighs.

his hands roam your body again, palming your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers until they’re hard again, then they slide down your body to grip your ass cheeks and spread them slightly, letting more of his cum drip from your cunt onto his balls. you clench around him again, drawing a low moan from his throat that vibrates against your lips.

he breaks the kiss first, pulling back just enough to look at you with a dazed and incredulous expression, before a soft laugh escapes him, rumbling through his chest beneath your palms.

“i can’t believe all this time it was you”, he says, his voice still rough, “months of wanting you and also jerking off to those streams, imagining exactly this, with you”

you laugh too, a bright and breathless sound that makes your cunt flutter around his cock.

“surprise”, you say, teasing him, leaning in to capture his mouth again, your tongue dancing with his as your hips give another lazy roll, grinding your clit against the base of his cock.

he breaks the kiss again, “when you said yesterday i was your favourite fan… you meant the livestreams?”, he asks you suddenly, a shocked look on his face.

you laugh again, pulling him back into the kiss without answering directly at first, just your lips parting his and your tongues sliding together as you suck on his tongue like you want to devour every reaction. the make-out turns even slower, more intimate, full of nips and licks along his jaw, your neck, your teeth grazing his earlobe while your walls still squeeze his cock inside you.

you break the kiss this time, pulling back just enough to trace lazy patterns over this chest with your fingertips, circling his nipples before dragging lower across his abs, feeling them tense under your touch. you bite your lip, your eyes locked on his as you feel the head of his cock pressing insistently against your cervix with every subtle shift.

“so… are you ready to show me some more of those fantasies that you have?”, you say as you clench around him again, feeling every vein and throb of his cock inside you.

chan leans up closer, his hands tightening on your waist as his eyes darken with renewed hunger.

“i’m more than ready”, he growls against your lips before kissing you again, his tongue pushing in as you feel his cock swell fully hard once more inside you, already twitching with fresh need and ready to fuck you through every fantasy you’ve both been holding back.

a/n: and with that the event is done!!!! thank you all so much for reading, i really hope you liked the stories and thank you again for all your love and support 🩷

the library

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟

dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷

It wasn't unusual for Jaehyun to go a day or two without texting. You both had busy lives, you with band rehearsals and him with football practice, so you understood. Whenever he had time, he always came back to you. That was how your relationship worked: comfortable, intact, and especially intimate when you finally got to be alone together.

You never doubted him. He always reassured you so well.

Until now.

It had been a full week since the last time you actually spoke to him in person. No late-night visits to your dorm, no sneaking in through your window with that boyish grin. Just short, dry texts. And every time you tried calling him, he would pick up only to say he was "too busy with practice" and hang up after a minute.

Something felt... off.

You tried to shrug it off at first. Jaehyun was probably just exhausted from practice. You told yourself he'd text soon, that he just needed some time to himself. Three days ago, he had sent a short message saying he was going back to his father's house for a while and wouldn't be around campus. You understand.

But that was three days ago.

Now it had been two full weeks since you last saw him in person. Two weeks of dry, replies and calls that ended within a minute. The uneasy feeling in your chest grew heavier, tightening around your throat like a chokehold.

You weren't used to this. You weren't used to doubting him.

Lucky for you, you actually knew his father—Kim Hongjoong.

He was a genuine, warm man. A single father of three who somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. At 42, Hongjoong could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. Tall, muscular, with sharp, refined features and that same devastating smile Jaehyun inherited. He was kind, attentive, and had a quiet confidence that always made the air feel a little thicker whenever he was around.

If he wasn't your boyfriend's father... well, you wouldn't have let yourself think about it.

But right now, worry was winning over everything else.

You pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him.

You: Hi, Mr. Kim. Sorry to bother you. I haven't heard from Jaehyun properly in almost two weeks. He mentioned he was going home a few days ago. Is everything okay? Do you know where he is?

You hit send and stared at the screen, nerves twisting in your stomach. The party noise faded into the background as you waited.

Not even a minute later, your phone vibrated.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. Jaehyun isn't home right now. He said he'll be coming next week. I'm not sure why he told you he was already here...

Your stomach dropped.

He lied.

Jaehyun lied to you.

He never lied to you. Does he?

But now the doubt was creeping in, loud and ugly. Jaehyun had lied. He told you he was going home when he clearly wasn't. Why? The question twisted uncomfortably in your chest, and the fact that you couldn't even confront him made it worse. He was completely missing in action. You typed back with slightly shaky fingers.

You: Oh. I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim. If he comes home, please tell him to message me. Thank you. Hongjoong: Of course, darling. Take care of yourself, yeah? And visit here sometimes, whenever you can.

You couldn't help but smile softly at his reply. Even through text, Hongjoong's warmth came through so easily. He really was such a sweet man, a genuinely good father. The kind of man who made you feel cared for with just a few words. For a moment, the heavy weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a long breath, trying to push the uncomfortable thoughts about Jaehyun to the back of your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the uneasy feeling twisting in your chest.

If Jaehyun wasn't at his father's house like he claimed, then he was probably just hiding in his dorm. That had to be it. Tomorrow, you decided, you would go see him. You'd look him in the eyes and ask what the fuck was actually going on.

The next day came by so quickly.

You baked his favorite cake. Chocolate with extra frosting, hoping it would soften whatever conversation was about to happen. With the cake box in one hand and your spare key in the other, you stood in front of Jaehyun's dorm door, heart beating heavily.

You took a deep breath and unlocked the door quietly.

The moment you stepped inside, your stomach dropped. Loud, breathy female moans filled the entire dorm. The sound was unmistakable. High-pitched, needy, and very real.

He's probably just watching porn, you told yourself, trying to stay calm. He does that sometimes when he's stressed...

But something felt wrong. You walked down the short hallway, cake still in your hands, and slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom.

The sight hit you like a truck.

Jaehyun was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, completely naked. A girl you didn't recognize was on top of him, riding him hard, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned loudly. His hands were gripping her ass, guiding her movements while he groaned beneath her.

For a few painful seconds, you just stood there frozen, cake box trembling slightly in your hands.

Jaehyun's eyes suddenly snapped open and locked onto yours. His face went pale.

"Baby—?!" he choked out, voice hoarse. The girl on top of him let out a startled yelp and quickly tried to cover herself, but it was too late. You had already seen everything.

The cake suddenly felt heavy in your arms. The sweet smell that used to comfort you now turned your stomach. All the late replies. All the sudden "practices." All the lies about going home.

This is why.

"Kim Jaehyun! What the fuck!?"

The cake box slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. For a split second, everything was silent except for the girl's heavy breathing. Then your blood boils.

You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Instead, you strode forward with long, confident steps, that signature domineering aura radiating off you like ice.

The girl barely had time to react before your hand shot out. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off Jaehyun with one powerful pull. She screamed as she tumbled sideways onto the mattress.

"Get the fuck off him," you said coldly, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. She scrambled away from you, eyes wide with shock, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. Jaehyun sat up quickly, face pale and panicked.

"Babe— wait, it's not— I can explain—"

"Explain?" You let out a bitter laugh, still holding the girl's hair tightly in your grip as you glared down at him. "You lied to me for two weeks just so you could fuck someone behind my back?"

The girl whimpered as you finally released her hair with a rough shove. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room like her life depended on it, slamming the door behind her.

Now it was just you and Jaehyun. He looked pathetic, naked, flushed, dick still hard and glistening from another girl's pussy. The sight made your stomach turn.

You stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a disappointing subordinate who just ruined the entire performance.

"Two weeks, Jaehyun," you said, voice dangerously calm. "Two fucking weeks of 'I'm busy' and 'I'm at my dad's'. And this is what you were doing?"

Jaehyun's eyes widened in panic. He scrambled off the bed, still naked, and lunged forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.

"Babe, wait— please, just listen to me! It's not what it looks like, I swear! She doesn't mean anything, it was just— fuck, it was a mistake—"

You felt his grip on your wrist like fire.

With a sharp, powerful yank, you shoved him off you. Jaehyun stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

"Don't you fucking lay your filthy hands on me!" you hissed, voice dripping with venom. "A mistake? You lied to me for two whole weeks so you could fuck some random bitch behind my back and you call that a mistake?!"

Your chest heaved with rage. Your eyes blurred as tears pooled on your eyelids, making Jaehyun shrink under your glare.

"We're done," you said coldly, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't ever call me. Don't text me. Don't even look at me. Fuck off, Jaehyun."

You turned on your heels, not even sparing the fallen chocolate cake on the floor a second glance, and walked out of his room. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slammed the dorm door behind you with a loud bang.

Tears burned in your eyes the moment you stepped outside, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not for him. You were done.

For the next week, Jaehyun wouldn't leave you alone.

He texted and called nonstop, even after you blocked him on everything. He showed up outside your classes, your band practice, and your dorm. Every time he tried to approach you, your friends were right there, ready to throw punches and shield you like bodyguards. They cursed him out and dragged you away before he could get close.

You stayed strong on the outside, but the betrayal still stung.

By the start of the second week, you thought it was finally dying down. Until one afternoon.

You had just finished band practice and were walking out of the campus gate when a girl stepped in front of you. It was her. The girl you had pulled off Jaehyun that day. She looked nervous, eyes red like she'd been crying.

"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "Please... just for a minute."

You almost walked past her, but something in her expression made you stop. You crossed your arms, staring her down.

"Fine. Talk."

She took a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry... I had no idea you existed. Jaehyun told me he was single the entire time. We'd been seeing each other for almost a month. He said he didn't have a girlfriend, that he was too focused on football to date anyone seriously." Her voice cracked. "If I had known about you... I would never have touched him. I swear."

She looked genuinely devastated.

"I feel sick knowing I was the other woman. I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The anger you'd been carrying suddenly felt heavier. Jaehyun didn't just cheat on you. He had played both of you.

You let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through your hair.

"...Thanks for telling me," you said coldly. "At least now I know how much of a lying piece of shit he really is."

The girl nodded, looking ashamed, before quietly walking away. You stood there at the gate for a long time, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The betrayal felt even deeper now.

For the next month, you drowned yourself in studies and band practice.

You threw everything you had into rehearsals, perfecting every count, every movement, every command on the field. At night, you buried yourself in books and assignments until your eyes burned. You barely slept, barely ate, and barely gave yourself time to think.

The whole campus knew what happened. The cheating scandal spread like wildfire. People whispered when you walked by, gave you pitiful looks in the hallways, and sent sympathetic messages. But you kept your chin up high, shoulders back, and that signature domineering aura firmly in place. You refuse to let anyone see you break. You were the drum major. You didn't fall apart in public.

Two months had passed since that awful day. You were in your dorm, surrounded by notes and textbooks, when your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. It's been a while. How have you been? It's already been two months since I last heard from you. I didn't even know you and Jaehyun broke up until recently... Are you okay?

Your chest tightened. You stared at the message for a long time before replying.

You: Oh. Hello, Mr. Kim. Yeah, we broke up. I'm fine though, thank you for checking me up. Hongjoong: I'm really sorry to hear that. If you're free this weekend, why don't you come over for dinner? I'll cook. You can talk about what happened if you want to... or we can just eat and you can forget everything for a while. No pressure. I just hate the thought of you dealing with this alone, besides I know for sure whatever the reason is, it could have been my stupid son's fault.

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to say no and keep burying yourself in work. But another part, the tired, angry, emotionally drained part, desperately needed to let it all out.

You: Okay. I'll come. Thank you, Mr. Kim. Hongjoong: Great. Come by Saturday at 6? Can't wait to see you, sweetheart.

Saturday came faster than you expected. By 6:30 PM, you were standing in front of Hongjoong's house, heart beating a little faster than usual. You had chosen one of your favorite Sunday dresses. A soft, off-shoulder cream-colored dress that hugged your figure nicely but still looked modest enough. You tugged at the hem nervously, suddenly wondering if it was too much. Too pretty. Too revealing for a dinner with your ex-boyfriend's father.

You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Kim Hongjoong stood there, looking unfairly good in a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile.

"You're here," he said softly, voice rich and comforting. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe before he caught himself and looked back at your face.

"You look great. Come in, sweetheart."

He stepped aside, letting you enter. The house smelled amazing, Garlic, herbs, and something savory that made your stomach rumble.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," you murmured.

"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you came." He closed the door behind you, then gently placed a hand on your lower back to guide you towards the dining area. The light touch sent a small, unexpected shiver up your spine. "I made carbonara and grilled steak. Hope you're hungry."

As you followed him, the reality of the situation settled in. This was the first time you'd been here since the breakup. No Jaehyun. Just you and Hongjoong.

He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman, then disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two glasses of wine. Hongjoong sat across from you, his warm gaze never leaving your face.

"So..." he started gently, voice low and careful. "Do you want to eat first and relax... or do you want to tell me what really happened between you and my son?"

He leaned forward slightly, eyes full of quiet concern and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

"I'm here to listen to everything. No judgment."

You sat quietly for a moment, staring at the glass of wine in your hands. The warmth of Hongjoong's home and his gentle presence made the walls you'd built over the past two months feel dangerously thin.

"I... I'll tell you," you whispered. Hongjoong nodded, giving you his full attention. He stayed silent, patient, as you started talking.

You told him everything.

How Jaehyun had been distant for weeks. The constant excuses. The lies about being at his house. How you baked his favorite cake and went to his dorm with a spare key, hoping to fix things. How you walked in on him fucking another girl. How he had the audacity to lie and say it was a mistake.

The more you spoke, the more your voice shook.

"I kept myself busy for two months straight," you continued, tears already blurring your vision. "Studies, practice, rehearsals... anything just to stop thinking about it. The whole campus knew. Everyone was looking at me with pity and I hated it. I'm supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control... but he made me feel so stupid."

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I trusted him. I never doubted him even once. And he played me like I was nothing. He told that girl he was single the whole time. He lied to both of us."

The dam finally broke. A sob ripped from your chest. Tears streamed down your face as all the anger, humiliation, and pain you'd been holding in came rushing out at once.

"I feel so pathetic..." you cried, covering your face with both hands. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I hate that he still has this much power over me."

You couldn't stop sobbing.

Suddenly, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around you. Hongjoong had moved from his seat and pulled you into a tight, comforting hug. One hand gently rubbed your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered softly against your hair, voice deep and soothing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong right now. Not here."

He held you closer, letting you cry into his chest as your body shook with heavy sobs.

"You're not pathetic," he murmured firmly. "You're incredible. My son is the idiot who couldn't see what he had."

Hongjoong didn't let go. He kept holding you, rocking you gently, his warmth and steady heartbeat slowly calming you down as you cried out months of pent-up pain.

"Just so you know," Hongjoong said softly, still holding you close, "I didn't raise my son to be like that. I thought I taught him well."

His voice was low and heavy with disappointment. One of his hands kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

"I don't know where he got the idea that cheating is okay," he continued, almost to himself. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of this. Not a single second."

You stayed buried against his chest, your sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. His shirt was damp with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind. He smelled comforting, like warm cologne, fresh laundry, and something distinctly him.

Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face. His thumb gently wiped away the tears still clinging to your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.

"Well..." you whispered shakily against his chest, voice still thick with tears, "just by how you're treating me right now... maybe it's only the looks that Jaehyun inherited from you."

Hongjoong let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. He pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.

"Is that so?" he murmured, a small, handsome smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed another stray tear from your skin. "I'll take that as a compliment then."

Hongjoong watched you with quiet intensity, his dark eyes never leaving your face as you pushed the pasta around your plate. The warm lighting in the dining room cast soft shadows across his sharp jawline and the open collar of his black shirt.

He set his wine glass down slowly, the quiet clink breaking the silence.

"What do you want to do with Jaehyun now?" he asked, voice low and velvety.You stared at your plate for a long moment, the hurt and rage you'd buried for two months rising back to the surface like poison.

"I want him to learn his lesson," you said bitterly, your voice cracking. "I want it to hurt. I want him to feel even a fraction of the humiliation and betrayal he made me feel."A heavy silence filled the room.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully. Then the corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a dark, dangerous smile. He stood up and walked around the table until he was standing right beside you. His tall frame towered over you as he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Then let me help you teach him," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip. "We can film ourselves in bed. You and me. I'll fuck you the way you deserved. I'll make you moan my name so loudly the camera catches every desperate sound."

Your breath hitched.

Hongjoong leaned down closer, his lips hovering near your ear as his voice dropped into a husky whisper.

"Imagine it, sweetheart... My hands all over this beautiful body. My cock buried deep inside you while you're falling apart. And then we send that video straight to Jaehyun. Let him watch his own father ruining the girl he was stupid enough to cheat on." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with lust and something dangerously possessive.

"You'll be screaming for me... and he'll be forced to watch every second of it."

His fingers slid from your chin down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat on your skin."It's your decision," he said softly, but his eyes were anything but soft. "If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you tonight. I'll make sure my son never forgets what he lost."

You stared at Hongjoong, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He was undeniably attractive. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad chest and muscular arms, the sharp line of his jaw, and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. At 42, he looked better than most men half his age. But this... this was crossing a dangerous line.

"I... I don't know," you whispered, voice shaky. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "Mr. Kim, he's still your son. This feels... wrong."

Hongjoong gave you a warm, understanding smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His hand slid from your thigh to your back, giving you a soft, comforting pat as if he could sense the storm of emotions inside you.

"It's okay," he said softly, voice gentle and reassuring. "I don't like pushing things on people, sweetheart. Especially not you."

He straightened up and moved back to his seat across from you, though his eyes never really left your face. The tension in the air slowly eased, but the heat of his earlier words still lingered.

"Go ahead and eat," he added with a small nod toward your plate. "Then you can rest if you want. No pressure at all. I'm just happy you're here."

You nodded quietly and picked up your fork again, though your appetite had mostly vanished. The carbonara tasted amazing, but your mind kept replaying his proposal, the image of you and Hongjoong in bed, filming everything, sending it to Jaehyun.

For the next few weeks, Hongjoong's offer refused to leave your mind.

It lingered like a parasite burrowing deeper every quiet moment. Late at night while you tried to study. During band practice when your mind should've been focused on counts and formations. Even in your dreams, his low voice would whisper the filthy promise again and again.

You told yourself it was wrong. Disgusting, even. He was your ex-boyfriend's father for heaven's sake. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, it always crawled back, hotter and more tempting each time.You decided to ignore it. Bury it. Move on.

Until one sunny afternoon.

You were walking past the football field when you saw them.

Jaehyun was sitting on the bleachers with the same girl, the one you had dragged off his cock that day. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into his side while his arm was casually draped around her shoulders. He looked... completely unbothered. Like he hadn't shattered your trust and humiliated you in front of the entire campus.

Something ugly and sharp twisted violently in your chest.Your feet stopped moving. Your fists clenched tightly at your sides.All the pain, the anger, and the humiliation came rushing back in full force. And right behind it, Hongjoong's voice echoed clearly in your head.

"If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you."

That's when you stopped hesitating.

The sight of Jaehyun laughing with that girl on the bleachers had ignited something feral inside you. No more crying. No more burying the pain. Tonight, you were going to make him regret ever laying eyes on anyone else.

Later that evening, you stood in front of the his father's house with fire in your eyes and steel in your spine. Your fist knocked firmly on the wooden door.

The door opened, and there was Hongjoong.

He looked devastatingly attractive in a simple black button-up with the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. His dark hair was slightly messy, and the moment his eyes landed on you. Standing there with flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, and clenched fists.

Before he could even speak, you looked him dead in the eyes and said with absolute conviction. "Let's do it."

The air between you instantly thickened. Hongjoong's gaze darkened with raw hunger as he stepped aside, silently inviting you in. The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, it felt like the outside world had been shut out completely.

Your head started to spin.You didn't know if it was because of Hongjoong's strong, woody perfume, deep, masculine, and intoxicating, that kept flooding your senses with every breath, or if it was the sudden wave of nervousness crashing over you all at once.Your heart hammered violently in your chest. Your palms felt clammy. The reality of what you just agreed to hit you like a freight train.

"Come with me," he said softly.

His hand slid down to yours, at the flat as he guided you upstairs. The house was quiet except for the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. Every step up the stairs made your stomach flutter harder.He led you down the hallway and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was spacious and masculine, dark wood furniture, a large king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and soft ambient lighting from the bedside lamps. The air smelled faintly of his cologne, the same intoxicating scent that had made your head spin earlier.

Hongjoong gently pulled you inside and closed the door behind you with a soft click. Without saying a word, he guided you toward the bed, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

"Sit down, sweetheart," he murmured.You obeyed, lowering yourself to sit at the edge of the large bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Hongjoong stood in front of you, tall and commanding, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.

"Nervous?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice low and gentle as he stayed crouched between your parted thighs.You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn't deny it. Your heart was racing so fast you felt lightheaded, and the way he was looking at you, so intense, so patient, yet so hungry, made everything feel overwhelming.

Hongjoong gave you a small, understanding smile. He rose slowly from his crouch and sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his side while his other hand came up to gently cup your face.

"It's okay to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "This is a big step. But I promise... I'll take care of you."

He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, letting his lips linger there. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you again, making your head spin in the best way.

"I'm not going to rush you," he whispered against your skin. "We can go slow."

His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with feather-light fingers. He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his again.

"Tell me what you want," he said softly, eyes dark but patient. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Or do you just want me to hold you until the nerves settle down?" His thumb brushed slowly over your bottom lip as he waited, giving you full control even while his body radiated heat and barely contained desire.

The sigh that left your lips was soft and shaky the moment Hongjoong's lips met yours.It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow, warm, and devastatingly gentle, like he was savoring the first taste of something he had wanted for a long time. Your head instinctively leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of heat spread through your body.

Hongjoong hummed approvingly against your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other stayed firmly on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips moved against yours with experience, deepening the kiss gradually until you parted your lips for him. When his tongue slipped inside, tasting you, a quiet whimper escaped your throat.He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, deep, sensual, and thorough. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thighs press together instinctively.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was slightly heavier, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire as he looked at you.

"Still nervous?" he whispered, voice husky. His thumb brushed tenderly over your now slightly swollen bottom lip.You barely managed a small shake of your head.

"There we go." Hongjoong smiled, slow and predatory, before capturing your lips again, this time with more hunger. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he guided you further onto the bed until your back gently met the soft mattress.

He hovered over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying in his bed, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes hazy with nerves and arousal. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back on his knees and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.

One by one, he undid them slowly, deliberately, revealing his toned chest and defined abs inch by inch. The shirt slid off his broad shoulders and strong arms, exposing his muscular upper body. He was even more impressive than you had imagined, years of quiet discipline showing in every line of his torso. He tossed the shirt aside without care.

Your breath caught.

Hongjoong leaned down again, capturing your lips in another slow, heated kiss. His bare skin radiated warmth as he pressed closer, one hand sliding up your side.

His fingers found the hem of your sundress. He sat up slightly and gently tugged the fabric upward, eyes locked on yours the entire time, giving you every chance to stop him. You lifted your hips instinctively, and he pulled the dress up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

Hongjoong let out a low, appreciative groan as his gaze roamed over your body.

"Fuck... look at you," he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands traced your waist, then moved up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, between the valley of your breasts. His fingers skillfully unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts.

"Perfect," he breathed, eyes dark.He tossed your bra aside and returned to kissing you — deeper this time, while his hands explored your now mostly bare body with slow, reverent touches.

Hongjoong kissed you like he was starving for you, his mouth claiming yours in deep, slow strokes while his hands explored your body with growing hunger. He trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking gently.

A soft moan slipped from your lips.

He continued downward, pressing wet kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and started slowly pulling them down your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.

As the lace slid down your legs, Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. His voice came out low and rough, slightly breathless.

"Where's your phone, sweetheart?" His hands never stopped moving. He finished pulling your panties off and tossed them aside, then ran his palms up your bare thighs, gently spreading them wider so he could settle between them.You could barely think straight, head spinning from the sensation of being completely naked under him.

"In... in my bag," you managed to whisper, voice shaky. "By the door..."

Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgment. He leaned down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right above your mound, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him.

"Stay right here," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Don't move."

He stood up for a moment, giving you a full view of his sculpted torso and the obvious bulge straining against his pants. He walked over to your bag, retrieved your phone, and returned to the bed.

Hongjoong gave you one last deep kiss before pulling back, then handed you your phone with a dark, heated look in his eyes.

"Here, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're going to record this."

He helped you sit up and lean back against the plush headboard, propping pillows behind you so you were comfortable. Then he moved down the bed, settling his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His large hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your legs wider apart, fully exposing your glistening pussy to him.

Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the camera app on of your phone and switched it to video mode. You hit record.

Hongjoong looked straight into the lens for a moment, a wicked smirk on his lips, before his gaze dropped back to your dripping core. Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in one long, filthy stroke. A broken moan immediately spilled from your lips.

"Oh my god..." you whimpered, hips twitching.

Hongjoong groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every drop before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking gently.

"Fuck—!" you cried out, your free hand flying down to grip his hair.

He ate you out like a man possessed, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more hungry. His tongue circled your clit, flicked it, then dipped down to push inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the room, clearly captured by the camera.

You struggled to keep the phone steady, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through you. "Joong— ahh!" you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back. "It feels so good..."

He looked up at the camera again, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head, while you watched his face contort through the screen of your phone. He then slid two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tried your best to keep recording, legs trembling around his head, hips grinding against his talented tongue.

His tongue worked your swollen clit with expert precision, licking, sucking, and flicking in perfect rhythm while two thick fingers pumped deep inside your soaked pussy. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room, all of it being captured clearly on the phone you were desperately trying to hold steady.

"Ahh—! Hongjoong... fuck!" you moaned loudly, your voice cracking.

Your head fell back against the headboard, but you forced your eyes to stay on the camera. Your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight and hot in your lower belly.

Hongjoong groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your back arch sharply.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, lips shiny with your juices. He curled his fingers harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "So wet for me already."

"I— I can't—" you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his face. "It's too good... I'm— I'm so close!"

He sucked harder on your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly while his fingers fucked you faster, deeper. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably. Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and commanding.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my tongue." He dove back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with intense pressure while his fingers curled relentlessly against your g-spot. The coil inside you snapped.

"Oh my god— Hongjoong!" you screamed, your back arching violently off the bed. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body, making your vision blur and your legs shake uncontrollably. You kept moaning his name brokenly, loud and shameless, as the orgasm went on and on. You didn't even know if you properly recorded the way he made you cum. It was too much for you to think about it.

Hongjoong didn't stop. He kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were a trembling, whimpering mess against the headboard. Only when your moans turned into weak, oversensitive whimpers did he finally slow down. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your throbbing clit before pulling his fingers out and looking up at you with a satisfied, predatory smirk.

Hongjoong huffed a heavy, shaky breath against your soaked pussy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Your orgasm had clearly affected him just as much. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and his lips glistened with your release.

He slowly crawled up your body like a predator, hovering over you on his forearms. His muscular frame caged you in completely, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh through his pants.

Without a word, he snatched the phone from your trembling hands. He quickly tapped the screen a few times, saving the video with a satisfied hum, then tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed where it landed safely on the pillows.

Now there was nothing between you two. Hongjoong looked down at you with pure hunger, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. His bare chest brushed against your breasts with every breath he took.

"Enough recording for now," he rasped, voice thick and rough. "I want to feel you properly."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it up around his waist as he ground his clothed erection against your bare, sensitive pussy. You moaned into his mouth, still twitching from your orgasm. Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and husky, barely holding back his hunger. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you looked straight up into his eyes, fiery, determined, and needy all at once, and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him the clearest answer you could.

Hongjoong's eyes darkened even more. A low, pleased groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

"That's my good girl." He reached down between your bodies and quickly freed himself from his pants. His hard cock sprang out, thick, heavy, and flushed. He wrapped a hand around the base and rubbed the swollen head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness.

You gasped softly at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck.

Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered roughly. Then, with one slow but firm thrust, he pushed the thick head of his cock inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips as he stretched you open. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning at how tightly your walls gripped him.

"Fuck... so tight," he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. "You feel even better than I imagined." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as he gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.

The moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes, something in Hongjoong snapped.

He didn't hold back anymore.

With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust forward hard, burying his thick cock deep inside you in one powerful stroke. A loud, broken cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide open, filling you completely.

"Fuck—!" Hongjoong growled, voice raw with years of pent-up desire. "Finally..."

He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, desperate pace right away. The bed creaked loudly beneath you as he fucked you like a man who had been starving for this moment for years.

"Been waiting so fucking long for this," he rasped against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "You have no idea how many nights I imagined fucking you raw in my bed."

Every thrust was deep and punishing, his hips snapping against yours with raw power. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with your loud moans and his heavy grunts filled the room.

Hongjoong grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his waist, driving even deeper. His rhythm was relentless, almost animalistic, like he was claiming you completely.

"Mine now," he groaned, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other braced beside your head. "This pussy is mine."

He kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder. His hips rolled with every thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls.You could barely think, only feel the way he was ruining you so perfectly. Hongjoong buried his face in your neck again, sucking hard on your skin as he growled.

He fucked you like a man possessed, hips slamming against yours with raw, years-long hunger.

He suddenly shifted his angle, hooking your leg higher around his waist and driving deeper. He thrust hard a few times, searching, adjusting, until he found it. Your whole body jerked violently.

"Ahh—! There—!" you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders.

Hongjoong's lips curled into a feral smirk against your neck.

"Right here?" he growled, voice dark and satisfied. He immediately started targeting that sweet spot mercilessly. Every thrust was precise, deep, and devastatingly fast, slamming directly into the spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. The wet, filthy sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy echoed loudly in the room.

"Fuck yes— take it, baby," he groaned, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he railed you without mercy. "This is what you needed, isn't it? A real man who knows how to fuck you properly."

His pace was brutal now, deep, fast, and relentless. The headboard banged loudly against the wall with every powerful thrust. Your breasts bounced wildly between your bodies as he drove into you again and again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

You were moaning shamelessly, almost sobbing with pleasure, your arms locked tight around his neck.

Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while he fucked you even harder, hips snapping with pure desperation.

"That's it," he panted, voice rough. He angled his hips again, making sure every thrust dragged perfectly against your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at an overwhelming speed.

"You're getting so fucking tight again," he groaned, almost snarling. "Gonna cum for me already, sweetheart? Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Hongjoong kept slamming into that perfect spot with ruthless precision, his hips moving in a fast, deep rhythm that left you completely undone. Your eyes suddenly rolled to the back of your head, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Your entire body tensed violently beneath him.

"I'm— I'm cumming—!" you sobbed brokenly, voice cracking.

Your walls clamped down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as your second orgasm crashed through you even harder than the first. A loud, shameless moan tore from your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed while your legs shook uncontrollably around his waist.

The way your pussy squeezed him so tightly, almost begging him to cum with you, finally pushed Hongjoong over the edge.

"Fuck— baby!" he growled loudly, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your spasming pussy, filling you up completely as he kept grinding into you, riding out both of your orgasms.

His body trembled above yours, hips twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, groaning your name against your neck like a prayer. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting and covered in sweat.

"Shit..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. "You feel so fucking good milking my cock like that." He gave one last slow thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you, then stayed there, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

Both of you stayed locked together, breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.

He let out a long, satisfied sigh and gently collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing softly against your damp skin as he tried to catch his breath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breathing and the faint beating of his heart against your chest.

Hongjoong was the first to move. He pressed slow, lazy kisses along your neck and jawline, then finally lifted his head to look at you. His hair was messy, cheeks flushed, and his eyes were softer now, warm, almost tender.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, voice hoarse from exertion. One of his hands came up to gently brush strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

You could only nod weakly, still dazed and trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

Hongjoong smiled softly, a small, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down and kissed you, slow, deep, and full of affection this time, completely different from the raw hunger earlier.

Hongjoong stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the warmth and the way your walls still fluttered around him. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out with a low groan.

A thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your swollen pussy onto the sheets. He watched it for a second with dark satisfaction before looking back at your face.

"Stay still, sweetheart," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't move. I'll get you a glass of water."

You nodded hazily, still floating in a blissful, post-orgasm daze. Your body felt heavy and boneless against the mattress.

As Hongjoong got up and walked out of the room, completely naked, you reached over to the other side of the bed where he had thrown your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up.

The video was still there.

Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened your messaging app, found Jaehyun's contact, and attached the video. Your thumb hovered for only a second before you hit send.The message delivered.

You stared at the screen, heart pounding. A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared... then stopped. Then appeared again.

Finally, a message came through.

Jaehyun: What the fuck is this?

Another message followed almost immediately, his panic clear even through text.

Jaehyun: Is that... my fucking dad?! Jaehyun: Are you seriously fucking my DAD?!

You didn't reply. You smiled .A slow, satisfied, almost wicked smile spread across your lips as you scrolled through the flood of texts Jaehyun had sent in the last few minutes.

Jaehyun: What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Jaehyun: You're seriously fucking my DAD just because I made one mistake?! Jaehyun: This is so fucked up. You're disgusting. Jaehyun: Delete that shit right now. I can't believe you'd stoop this low. Jaehyun: Answer me you fucking bitch.

Every angry, desperate message made the smile on your face grow wider. You could practically hear him shouting through the screen, the panic, the rage, the disbelief.

You were still smiling when Hongjoong returned with a glass of cold water in his hand. He paused at the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of you, naked, flushed, and glowing, sitting up in his bed while scrolling through your phone with a satisfied little smirk on your face.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Did you already send it?" he asked, walking over to the bed. You looked up at him and nodded slowly, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face.

Hongjoong let out a low, rich chuckle, clearly pleased. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and handed you the glass.

"Here, drink up," he said softly.

You took the glass and drank the rest of the water slowly while he watched you with dark, affectionate eyes. When you finished, he took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw gently as he pressed a slow kiss to your lips.

"Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, voice laced with satisfaction. "Now come here."

Hongjoong pulled you back down onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your body and tucking you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, one hand lazily stroking your back.

"Rest now, sweetheart," he murmured, holding you close. As you drifted off in his warm embrace, your phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand. You smiled against Hongjoong's chest and closed your eyes. Revenge had never felt so good.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @quokkahansung, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo

It wasn't unusual for Jaehyun to go a day or two without texting. You both had busy lives, you with band rehearsals and him with football practice, so you understood. Whenever he had time, he always came back to you. That was how your relationship worked: comfortable, intact, and especially intimate when you finally got to be alone together.

You never doubted him. He always reassured you so well.

Until now.

It had been a full week since the last time you actually spoke to him in person. No late-night visits to your dorm, no sneaking in through your window with that boyish grin. Just short, dry texts. And every time you tried calling him, he would pick up only to say he was "too busy with practice" and hang up after a minute.

Something felt... off.

You tried to shrug it off at first. Jaehyun was probably just exhausted from practice. You told yourself he'd text soon, that he just needed some time to himself. Three days ago, he had sent a short message saying he was going back to his father's house for a while and wouldn't be around campus. You understand.

But that was three days ago.

Now it had been two full weeks since you last saw him in person. Two weeks of dry, replies and calls that ended within a minute. The uneasy feeling in your chest grew heavier, tightening around your throat like a chokehold.

You weren't used to this. You weren't used to doubting him.

Lucky for you, you actually knew his father—Kim Hongjoong.

He was a genuine, warm man. A single father of three who somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. At 42, Hongjoong could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. Tall, muscular, with sharp, refined features and that same devastating smile Jaehyun inherited. He was kind, attentive, and had a quiet confidence that always made the air feel a little thicker whenever he was around.

If he wasn't your boyfriend's father... well, you wouldn't have let yourself think about it.

But right now, worry was winning over everything else.

You pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him.

You: Hi, Mr. Kim. Sorry to bother you. I haven't heard from Jaehyun properly in almost two weeks. He mentioned he was going home a few days ago. Is everything okay? Do you know where he is?

You hit send and stared at the screen, nerves twisting in your stomach. The party noise faded into the background as you waited.

Not even a minute later, your phone vibrated.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. Jaehyun isn't home right now. He said he'll be coming next week. I'm not sure why he told you he was already here...

Your stomach dropped.

He lied.

Jaehyun lied to you.

He never lied to you. Does he?

But now the doubt was creeping in, loud and ugly. Jaehyun had lied. He told you he was going home when he clearly wasn't. Why? The question twisted uncomfortably in your chest, and the fact that you couldn't even confront him made it worse. He was completely missing in action. You typed back with slightly shaky fingers.

You: Oh. I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim. If he comes home, please tell him to message me. Thank you. Hongjoong: Of course, darling. Take care of yourself, yeah? And visit here sometimes, whenever you can.

You couldn't help but smile softly at his reply. Even through text, Hongjoong's warmth came through so easily. He really was such a sweet man, a genuinely good father. The kind of man who made you feel cared for with just a few words. For a moment, the heavy weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a long breath, trying to push the uncomfortable thoughts about Jaehyun to the back of your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the uneasy feeling twisting in your chest.

If Jaehyun wasn't at his father's house like he claimed, then he was probably just hiding in his dorm. That had to be it. Tomorrow, you decided, you would go see him. You'd look him in the eyes and ask what the fuck was actually going on.

The next day came by so quickly.

You baked his favorite cake. Chocolate with extra frosting, hoping it would soften whatever conversation was about to happen. With the cake box in one hand and your spare key in the other, you stood in front of Jaehyun's dorm door, heart beating heavily.

You took a deep breath and unlocked the door quietly.

The moment you stepped inside, your stomach dropped. Loud, breathy female moans filled the entire dorm. The sound was unmistakable. High-pitched, needy, and very real.

He's probably just watching porn, you told yourself, trying to stay calm. He does that sometimes when he's stressed...

But something felt wrong. You walked down the short hallway, cake still in your hands, and slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom.

The sight hit you like a truck.

Jaehyun was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, completely naked. A girl you didn't recognize was on top of him, riding him hard, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned loudly. His hands were gripping her ass, guiding her movements while he groaned beneath her.

For a few painful seconds, you just stood there frozen, cake box trembling slightly in your hands.

Jaehyun's eyes suddenly snapped open and locked onto yours. His face went pale.

"Baby—?!" he choked out, voice hoarse. The girl on top of him let out a startled yelp and quickly tried to cover herself, but it was too late. You had already seen everything.

The cake suddenly felt heavy in your arms. The sweet smell that used to comfort you now turned your stomach. All the late replies. All the sudden "practices." All the lies about going home.

This is why.

"Kim Jaehyun! What the fuck!?"

The cake box slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. For a split second, everything was silent except for the girl's heavy breathing. Then your blood boils.

You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Instead, you strode forward with long, confident steps, that signature domineering aura radiating off you like ice.

The girl barely had time to react before your hand shot out. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off Jaehyun with one powerful pull. She screamed as she tumbled sideways onto the mattress.

"Get the fuck off him," you said coldly, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. She scrambled away from you, eyes wide with shock, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. Jaehyun sat up quickly, face pale and panicked.

"Babe— wait, it's not— I can explain—"

"Explain?" You let out a bitter laugh, still holding the girl's hair tightly in your grip as you glared down at him. "You lied to me for two weeks just so you could fuck someone behind my back?"

The girl whimpered as you finally released her hair with a rough shove. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room like her life depended on it, slamming the door behind her.

Now it was just you and Jaehyun. He looked pathetic, naked, flushed, dick still hard and glistening from another girl's pussy. The sight made your stomach turn.

You stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a disappointing subordinate who just ruined the entire performance.

"Two weeks, Jaehyun," you said, voice dangerously calm. "Two fucking weeks of 'I'm busy' and 'I'm at my dad's'. And this is what you were doing?"

Jaehyun's eyes widened in panic. He scrambled off the bed, still naked, and lunged forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.

"Babe, wait— please, just listen to me! It's not what it looks like, I swear! She doesn't mean anything, it was just— fuck, it was a mistake—"

You felt his grip on your wrist like fire.

With a sharp, powerful yank, you shoved him off you. Jaehyun stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

"Don't you fucking lay your filthy hands on me!" you hissed, voice dripping with venom. "A mistake? You lied to me for two whole weeks so you could fuck some random bitch behind my back and you call that a mistake?!"

Your chest heaved with rage. Your eyes blurred as tears pooled on your eyelids, making Jaehyun shrink under your glare.

"We're done," you said coldly, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't ever call me. Don't text me. Don't even look at me. Fuck off, Jaehyun."

You turned on your heels, not even sparing the fallen chocolate cake on the floor a second glance, and walked out of his room. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slammed the dorm door behind you with a loud bang.

Tears burned in your eyes the moment you stepped outside, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not for him. You were done.

For the next week, Jaehyun wouldn't leave you alone.

He texted and called nonstop, even after you blocked him on everything. He showed up outside your classes, your band practice, and your dorm. Every time he tried to approach you, your friends were right there, ready to throw punches and shield you like bodyguards. They cursed him out and dragged you away before he could get close.

You stayed strong on the outside, but the betrayal still stung.

By the start of the second week, you thought it was finally dying down. Until one afternoon.

You had just finished band practice and were walking out of the campus gate when a girl stepped in front of you. It was her. The girl you had pulled off Jaehyun that day. She looked nervous, eyes red like she'd been crying.

"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "Please... just for a minute."

You almost walked past her, but something in her expression made you stop. You crossed your arms, staring her down.

"Fine. Talk."

She took a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry... I had no idea you existed. Jaehyun told me he was single the entire time. We'd been seeing each other for almost a month. He said he didn't have a girlfriend, that he was too focused on football to date anyone seriously." Her voice cracked. "If I had known about you... I would never have touched him. I swear."

She looked genuinely devastated.

"I feel sick knowing I was the other woman. I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The anger you'd been carrying suddenly felt heavier. Jaehyun didn't just cheat on you. He had played both of you.

You let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through your hair.

"...Thanks for telling me," you said coldly. "At least now I know how much of a lying piece of shit he really is."

The girl nodded, looking ashamed, before quietly walking away. You stood there at the gate for a long time, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The betrayal felt even deeper now.

For the next month, you drowned yourself in studies and band practice.

You threw everything you had into rehearsals, perfecting every count, every movement, every command on the field. At night, you buried yourself in books and assignments until your eyes burned. You barely slept, barely ate, and barely gave yourself time to think.

The whole campus knew what happened. The cheating scandal spread like wildfire. People whispered when you walked by, gave you pitiful looks in the hallways, and sent sympathetic messages. But you kept your chin up high, shoulders back, and that signature domineering aura firmly in place. You refuse to let anyone see you break. You were the drum major. You didn't fall apart in public.

Two months had passed since that awful day. You were in your dorm, surrounded by notes and textbooks, when your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. It's been a while. How have you been? It's already been two months since I last heard from you. I didn't even know you and Jaehyun broke up until recently... Are you okay?

Your chest tightened. You stared at the message for a long time before replying.

You: Oh. Hello, Mr. Kim. Yeah, we broke up. I'm fine though, thank you for checking me up. Hongjoong: I'm really sorry to hear that. If you're free this weekend, why don't you come over for dinner? I'll cook. You can talk about what happened if you want to... or we can just eat and you can forget everything for a while. No pressure. I just hate the thought of you dealing with this alone, besides I know for sure whatever the reason is, it could have been my stupid son's fault.

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to say no and keep burying yourself in work. But another part, the tired, angry, emotionally drained part, desperately needed to let it all out.

You: Okay. I'll come. Thank you, Mr. Kim. Hongjoong: Great. Come by Saturday at 6? Can't wait to see you, sweetheart.

Saturday came faster than you expected. By 6:30 PM, you were standing in front of Hongjoong's house, heart beating a little faster than usual. You had chosen one of your favorite Sunday dresses. A soft, off-shoulder cream-colored dress that hugged your figure nicely but still looked modest enough. You tugged at the hem nervously, suddenly wondering if it was too much. Too pretty. Too revealing for a dinner with your ex-boyfriend's father.

You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Kim Hongjoong stood there, looking unfairly good in a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile.

"You're here," he said softly, voice rich and comforting. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe before he caught himself and looked back at your face.

"You look great. Come in, sweetheart."

He stepped aside, letting you enter. The house smelled amazing, Garlic, herbs, and something savory that made your stomach rumble.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," you murmured.

"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you came." He closed the door behind you, then gently placed a hand on your lower back to guide you towards the dining area. The light touch sent a small, unexpected shiver up your spine. "I made carbonara and grilled steak. Hope you're hungry."

As you followed him, the reality of the situation settled in. This was the first time you'd been here since the breakup. No Jaehyun. Just you and Hongjoong.

He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman, then disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two glasses of wine. Hongjoong sat across from you, his warm gaze never leaving your face.

"So..." he started gently, voice low and careful. "Do you want to eat first and relax... or do you want to tell me what really happened between you and my son?"

He leaned forward slightly, eyes full of quiet concern and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

"I'm here to listen to everything. No judgment."

You sat quietly for a moment, staring at the glass of wine in your hands. The warmth of Hongjoong's home and his gentle presence made the walls you'd built over the past two months feel dangerously thin.

"I... I'll tell you," you whispered. Hongjoong nodded, giving you his full attention. He stayed silent, patient, as you started talking.

You told him everything.

How Jaehyun had been distant for weeks. The constant excuses. The lies about being at his house. How you baked his favorite cake and went to his dorm with a spare key, hoping to fix things. How you walked in on him fucking another girl. How he had the audacity to lie and say it was a mistake.

The more you spoke, the more your voice shook.

"I kept myself busy for two months straight," you continued, tears already blurring your vision. "Studies, practice, rehearsals... anything just to stop thinking about it. The whole campus knew. Everyone was looking at me with pity and I hated it. I'm supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control... but he made me feel so stupid."

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I trusted him. I never doubted him even once. And he played me like I was nothing. He told that girl he was single the whole time. He lied to both of us."

The dam finally broke. A sob ripped from your chest. Tears streamed down your face as all the anger, humiliation, and pain you'd been holding in came rushing out at once.

"I feel so pathetic..." you cried, covering your face with both hands. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I hate that he still has this much power over me."

You couldn't stop sobbing.

Suddenly, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around you. Hongjoong had moved from his seat and pulled you into a tight, comforting hug. One hand gently rubbed your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered softly against your hair, voice deep and soothing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong right now. Not here."

He held you closer, letting you cry into his chest as your body shook with heavy sobs.

"You're not pathetic," he murmured firmly. "You're incredible. My son is the idiot who couldn't see what he had."

Hongjoong didn't let go. He kept holding you, rocking you gently, his warmth and steady heartbeat slowly calming you down as you cried out months of pent-up pain.

"Just so you know," Hongjoong said softly, still holding you close, "I didn't raise my son to be like that. I thought I taught him well."

His voice was low and heavy with disappointment. One of his hands kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

"I don't know where he got the idea that cheating is okay," he continued, almost to himself. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of this. Not a single second."

You stayed buried against his chest, your sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. His shirt was damp with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind. He smelled comforting, like warm cologne, fresh laundry, and something distinctly him.

Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face. His thumb gently wiped away the tears still clinging to your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.

"Well..." you whispered shakily against his chest, voice still thick with tears, "just by how you're treating me right now... maybe it's only the looks that Jaehyun inherited from you."

Hongjoong let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. He pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.

"Is that so?" he murmured, a small, handsome smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed another stray tear from your skin. "I'll take that as a compliment then."

Hongjoong watched you with quiet intensity, his dark eyes never leaving your face as you pushed the pasta around your plate. The warm lighting in the dining room cast soft shadows across his sharp jawline and the open collar of his black shirt.

He set his wine glass down slowly, the quiet clink breaking the silence.

"What do you want to do with Jaehyun now?" he asked, voice low and velvety.You stared at your plate for a long moment, the hurt and rage you'd buried for two months rising back to the surface like poison.

"I want him to learn his lesson," you said bitterly, your voice cracking. "I want it to hurt. I want him to feel even a fraction of the humiliation and betrayal he made me feel."A heavy silence filled the room.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully. Then the corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a dark, dangerous smile. He stood up and walked around the table until he was standing right beside you. His tall frame towered over you as he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Then let me help you teach him," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip. "We can film ourselves in bed. You and me. I'll fuck you the way you deserved. I'll make you moan my name so loudly the camera catches every desperate sound."

Your breath hitched.

Hongjoong leaned down closer, his lips hovering near your ear as his voice dropped into a husky whisper.

"Imagine it, sweetheart... My hands all over this beautiful body. My cock buried deep inside you while you're falling apart. And then we send that video straight to Jaehyun. Let him watch his own father ruining the girl he was stupid enough to cheat on." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with lust and something dangerously possessive.

"You'll be screaming for me... and he'll be forced to watch every second of it."

His fingers slid from your chin down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat on your skin."It's your decision," he said softly, but his eyes were anything but soft. "If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you tonight. I'll make sure my son never forgets what he lost."

You stared at Hongjoong, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He was undeniably attractive. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad chest and muscular arms, the sharp line of his jaw, and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. At 42, he looked better than most men half his age. But this... this was crossing a dangerous line.

"I... I don't know," you whispered, voice shaky. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "Mr. Kim, he's still your son. This feels... wrong."

Hongjoong gave you a warm, understanding smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His hand slid from your thigh to your back, giving you a soft, comforting pat as if he could sense the storm of emotions inside you.

"It's okay," he said softly, voice gentle and reassuring. "I don't like pushing things on people, sweetheart. Especially not you."

He straightened up and moved back to his seat across from you, though his eyes never really left your face. The tension in the air slowly eased, but the heat of his earlier words still lingered.

"Go ahead and eat," he added with a small nod toward your plate. "Then you can rest if you want. No pressure at all. I'm just happy you're here."

You nodded quietly and picked up your fork again, though your appetite had mostly vanished. The carbonara tasted amazing, but your mind kept replaying his proposal, the image of you and Hongjoong in bed, filming everything, sending it to Jaehyun.

For the next few weeks, Hongjoong's offer refused to leave your mind.

It lingered like a parasite burrowing deeper every quiet moment. Late at night while you tried to study. During band practice when your mind should've been focused on counts and formations. Even in your dreams, his low voice would whisper the filthy promise again and again.

You told yourself it was wrong. Disgusting, even. He was your ex-boyfriend's father for heaven's sake. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, it always crawled back, hotter and more tempting each time.You decided to ignore it. Bury it. Move on.

Until one sunny afternoon.

You were walking past the football field when you saw them.

Jaehyun was sitting on the bleachers with the same girl, the one you had dragged off his cock that day. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into his side while his arm was casually draped around her shoulders. He looked... completely unbothered. Like he hadn't shattered your trust and humiliated you in front of the entire campus.

Something ugly and sharp twisted violently in your chest.Your feet stopped moving. Your fists clenched tightly at your sides.All the pain, the anger, and the humiliation came rushing back in full force. And right behind it, Hongjoong's voice echoed clearly in your head.

"If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you."

That's when you stopped hesitating.

The sight of Jaehyun laughing with that girl on the bleachers had ignited something feral inside you. No more crying. No more burying the pain. Tonight, you were going to make him regret ever laying eyes on anyone else.

Later that evening, you stood in front of the his father's house with fire in your eyes and steel in your spine. Your fist knocked firmly on the wooden door.

The door opened, and there was Hongjoong.

He looked devastatingly attractive in a simple black button-up with the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. His dark hair was slightly messy, and the moment his eyes landed on you. Standing there with flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, and clenched fists.

Before he could even speak, you looked him dead in the eyes and said with absolute conviction. "Let's do it."

The air between you instantly thickened. Hongjoong's gaze darkened with raw hunger as he stepped aside, silently inviting you in. The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, it felt like the outside world had been shut out completely.

Your head started to spin.You didn't know if it was because of Hongjoong's strong, woody perfume, deep, masculine, and intoxicating, that kept flooding your senses with every breath, or if it was the sudden wave of nervousness crashing over you all at once.Your heart hammered violently in your chest. Your palms felt clammy. The reality of what you just agreed to hit you like a freight train.

"Come with me," he said softly.

His hand slid down to yours, at the flat as he guided you upstairs. The house was quiet except for the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. Every step up the stairs made your stomach flutter harder.He led you down the hallway and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was spacious and masculine, dark wood furniture, a large king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and soft ambient lighting from the bedside lamps. The air smelled faintly of his cologne, the same intoxicating scent that had made your head spin earlier.

Hongjoong gently pulled you inside and closed the door behind you with a soft click. Without saying a word, he guided you toward the bed, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

"Sit down, sweetheart," he murmured.You obeyed, lowering yourself to sit at the edge of the large bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Hongjoong stood in front of you, tall and commanding, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.

"Nervous?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice low and gentle as he stayed crouched between your parted thighs.You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn't deny it. Your heart was racing so fast you felt lightheaded, and the way he was looking at you, so intense, so patient, yet so hungry, made everything feel overwhelming.

Hongjoong gave you a small, understanding smile. He rose slowly from his crouch and sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his side while his other hand came up to gently cup your face.

"It's okay to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "This is a big step. But I promise... I'll take care of you."

He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, letting his lips linger there. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you again, making your head spin in the best way.

"I'm not going to rush you," he whispered against your skin. "We can go slow."

His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with feather-light fingers. He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his again.

"Tell me what you want," he said softly, eyes dark but patient. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Or do you just want me to hold you until the nerves settle down?" His thumb brushed slowly over your bottom lip as he waited, giving you full control even while his body radiated heat and barely contained desire.

The sigh that left your lips was soft and shaky the moment Hongjoong's lips met yours.It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow, warm, and devastatingly gentle, like he was savoring the first taste of something he had wanted for a long time. Your head instinctively leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of heat spread through your body.

Hongjoong hummed approvingly against your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other stayed firmly on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips moved against yours with experience, deepening the kiss gradually until you parted your lips for him. When his tongue slipped inside, tasting you, a quiet whimper escaped your throat.He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, deep, sensual, and thorough. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thighs press together instinctively.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was slightly heavier, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire as he looked at you.

"Still nervous?" he whispered, voice husky. His thumb brushed tenderly over your now slightly swollen bottom lip.You barely managed a small shake of your head.

"There we go." Hongjoong smiled, slow and predatory, before capturing your lips again, this time with more hunger. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he guided you further onto the bed until your back gently met the soft mattress.

He hovered over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying in his bed, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes hazy with nerves and arousal. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back on his knees and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.

One by one, he undid them slowly, deliberately, revealing his toned chest and defined abs inch by inch. The shirt slid off his broad shoulders and strong arms, exposing his muscular upper body. He was even more impressive than you had imagined, years of quiet discipline showing in every line of his torso. He tossed the shirt aside without care.

Your breath caught.

Hongjoong leaned down again, capturing your lips in another slow, heated kiss. His bare skin radiated warmth as he pressed closer, one hand sliding up your side.

His fingers found the hem of your sundress. He sat up slightly and gently tugged the fabric upward, eyes locked on yours the entire time, giving you every chance to stop him. You lifted your hips instinctively, and he pulled the dress up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

Hongjoong let out a low, appreciative groan as his gaze roamed over your body.

"Fuck... look at you," he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands traced your waist, then moved up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, between the valley of your breasts. His fingers skillfully unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts.

"Perfect," he breathed, eyes dark.He tossed your bra aside and returned to kissing you — deeper this time, while his hands explored your now mostly bare body with slow, reverent touches.

Hongjoong kissed you like he was starving for you, his mouth claiming yours in deep, slow strokes while his hands explored your body with growing hunger. He trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking gently.

A soft moan slipped from your lips.

He continued downward, pressing wet kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and started slowly pulling them down your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.

As the lace slid down your legs, Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. His voice came out low and rough, slightly breathless.

"Where's your phone, sweetheart?" His hands never stopped moving. He finished pulling your panties off and tossed them aside, then ran his palms up your bare thighs, gently spreading them wider so he could settle between them.You could barely think straight, head spinning from the sensation of being completely naked under him.

"In... in my bag," you managed to whisper, voice shaky. "By the door..."

Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgment. He leaned down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right above your mound, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him.

"Stay right here," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Don't move."

He stood up for a moment, giving you a full view of his sculpted torso and the obvious bulge straining against his pants. He walked over to your bag, retrieved your phone, and returned to the bed.

Hongjoong gave you one last deep kiss before pulling back, then handed you your phone with a dark, heated look in his eyes.

"Here, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're going to record this."

He helped you sit up and lean back against the plush headboard, propping pillows behind you so you were comfortable. Then he moved down the bed, settling his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His large hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your legs wider apart, fully exposing your glistening pussy to him.

Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the camera app on of your phone and switched it to video mode. You hit record.

Hongjoong looked straight into the lens for a moment, a wicked smirk on his lips, before his gaze dropped back to your dripping core. Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in one long, filthy stroke. A broken moan immediately spilled from your lips.

"Oh my god..." you whimpered, hips twitching.

Hongjoong groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every drop before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking gently.

"Fuck—!" you cried out, your free hand flying down to grip his hair.

He ate you out like a man possessed, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more hungry. His tongue circled your clit, flicked it, then dipped down to push inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the room, clearly captured by the camera.

You struggled to keep the phone steady, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through you. "Joong— ahh!" you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back. "It feels so good..."

He looked up at the camera again, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head, while you watched his face contort through the screen of your phone. He then slid two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tried your best to keep recording, legs trembling around his head, hips grinding against his talented tongue.

His tongue worked your swollen clit with expert precision, licking, sucking, and flicking in perfect rhythm while two thick fingers pumped deep inside your soaked pussy. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room, all of it being captured clearly on the phone you were desperately trying to hold steady.

"Ahh—! Hongjoong... fuck!" you moaned loudly, your voice cracking.

Your head fell back against the headboard, but you forced your eyes to stay on the camera. Your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight and hot in your lower belly.

Hongjoong groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your back arch sharply.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, lips shiny with your juices. He curled his fingers harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "So wet for me already."

"I— I can't—" you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his face. "It's too good... I'm— I'm so close!"

He sucked harder on your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly while his fingers fucked you faster, deeper. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably. Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and commanding.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my tongue." He dove back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with intense pressure while his fingers curled relentlessly against your g-spot. The coil inside you snapped.

"Oh my god— Hongjoong!" you screamed, your back arching violently off the bed. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body, making your vision blur and your legs shake uncontrollably. You kept moaning his name brokenly, loud and shameless, as the orgasm went on and on. You didn't even know if you properly recorded the way he made you cum. It was too much for you to think about it.

Hongjoong didn't stop. He kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were a trembling, whimpering mess against the headboard. Only when your moans turned into weak, oversensitive whimpers did he finally slow down. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your throbbing clit before pulling his fingers out and looking up at you with a satisfied, predatory smirk.

Hongjoong huffed a heavy, shaky breath against your soaked pussy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Your orgasm had clearly affected him just as much. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and his lips glistened with your release.

He slowly crawled up your body like a predator, hovering over you on his forearms. His muscular frame caged you in completely, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh through his pants.

Without a word, he snatched the phone from your trembling hands. He quickly tapped the screen a few times, saving the video with a satisfied hum, then tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed where it landed safely on the pillows.

Now there was nothing between you two. Hongjoong looked down at you with pure hunger, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. His bare chest brushed against your breasts with every breath he took.

"Enough recording for now," he rasped, voice thick and rough. "I want to feel you properly."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it up around his waist as he ground his clothed erection against your bare, sensitive pussy. You moaned into his mouth, still twitching from your orgasm. Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and husky, barely holding back his hunger. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you looked straight up into his eyes, fiery, determined, and needy all at once, and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him the clearest answer you could.

Hongjoong's eyes darkened even more. A low, pleased groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

"That's my good girl." He reached down between your bodies and quickly freed himself from his pants. His hard cock sprang out, thick, heavy, and flushed. He wrapped a hand around the base and rubbed the swollen head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness.

You gasped softly at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck.

Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered roughly. Then, with one slow but firm thrust, he pushed the thick head of his cock inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips as he stretched you open. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning at how tightly your walls gripped him.

"Fuck... so tight," he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. "You feel even better than I imagined." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as he gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.

The moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes, something in Hongjoong snapped.

He didn't hold back anymore.

With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust forward hard, burying his thick cock deep inside you in one powerful stroke. A loud, broken cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide open, filling you completely.

"Fuck—!" Hongjoong growled, voice raw with years of pent-up desire. "Finally..."

He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, desperate pace right away. The bed creaked loudly beneath you as he fucked you like a man who had been starving for this moment for years.

"Been waiting so fucking long for this," he rasped against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "You have no idea how many nights I imagined fucking you raw in my bed."

Every thrust was deep and punishing, his hips snapping against yours with raw power. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with your loud moans and his heavy grunts filled the room.

Hongjoong grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his waist, driving even deeper. His rhythm was relentless, almost animalistic, like he was claiming you completely.

"Mine now," he groaned, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other braced beside your head. "This pussy is mine."

He kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder. His hips rolled with every thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls.You could barely think, only feel the way he was ruining you so perfectly. Hongjoong buried his face in your neck again, sucking hard on your skin as he growled.

He fucked you like a man possessed, hips slamming against yours with raw, years-long hunger.

He suddenly shifted his angle, hooking your leg higher around his waist and driving deeper. He thrust hard a few times, searching, adjusting, until he found it. Your whole body jerked violently.

"Ahh—! There—!" you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders.

Hongjoong's lips curled into a feral smirk against your neck.

"Right here?" he growled, voice dark and satisfied. He immediately started targeting that sweet spot mercilessly. Every thrust was precise, deep, and devastatingly fast, slamming directly into the spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. The wet, filthy sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy echoed loudly in the room.

"Fuck yes— take it, baby," he groaned, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he railed you without mercy. "This is what you needed, isn't it? A real man who knows how to fuck you properly."

His pace was brutal now, deep, fast, and relentless. The headboard banged loudly against the wall with every powerful thrust. Your breasts bounced wildly between your bodies as he drove into you again and again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

You were moaning shamelessly, almost sobbing with pleasure, your arms locked tight around his neck.

Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while he fucked you even harder, hips snapping with pure desperation.

"That's it," he panted, voice rough. He angled his hips again, making sure every thrust dragged perfectly against your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at an overwhelming speed.

"You're getting so fucking tight again," he groaned, almost snarling. "Gonna cum for me already, sweetheart? Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Hongjoong kept slamming into that perfect spot with ruthless precision, his hips moving in a fast, deep rhythm that left you completely undone. Your eyes suddenly rolled to the back of your head, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Your entire body tensed violently beneath him.

"I'm— I'm cumming—!" you sobbed brokenly, voice cracking.

Your walls clamped down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as your second orgasm crashed through you even harder than the first. A loud, shameless moan tore from your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed while your legs shook uncontrollably around his waist.

The way your pussy squeezed him so tightly, almost begging him to cum with you, finally pushed Hongjoong over the edge.

"Fuck— baby!" he growled loudly, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your spasming pussy, filling you up completely as he kept grinding into you, riding out both of your orgasms.

His body trembled above yours, hips twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, groaning your name against your neck like a prayer. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting and covered in sweat.

"Shit..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. "You feel so fucking good milking my cock like that." He gave one last slow thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you, then stayed there, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

Both of you stayed locked together, breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.

He let out a long, satisfied sigh and gently collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing softly against your damp skin as he tried to catch his breath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breathing and the faint beating of his heart against your chest.

Hongjoong was the first to move. He pressed slow, lazy kisses along your neck and jawline, then finally lifted his head to look at you. His hair was messy, cheeks flushed, and his eyes were softer now, warm, almost tender.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, voice hoarse from exertion. One of his hands came up to gently brush strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

You could only nod weakly, still dazed and trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

Hongjoong smiled softly, a small, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down and kissed you, slow, deep, and full of affection this time, completely different from the raw hunger earlier.

Hongjoong stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the warmth and the way your walls still fluttered around him. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out with a low groan.

A thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your swollen pussy onto the sheets. He watched it for a second with dark satisfaction before looking back at your face.

"Stay still, sweetheart," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't move. I'll get you a glass of water."

You nodded hazily, still floating in a blissful, post-orgasm daze. Your body felt heavy and boneless against the mattress.

As Hongjoong got up and walked out of the room, completely naked, you reached over to the other side of the bed where he had thrown your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up.

The video was still there.

Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened your messaging app, found Jaehyun's contact, and attached the video. Your thumb hovered for only a second before you hit send.The message delivered.

You stared at the screen, heart pounding. A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared... then stopped. Then appeared again.

Finally, a message came through.

Jaehyun: What the fuck is this?

Another message followed almost immediately, his panic clear even through text.

Jaehyun: Is that... my fucking dad?! Jaehyun: Are you seriously fucking my DAD?!

You didn't reply. You smiled .A slow, satisfied, almost wicked smile spread across your lips as you scrolled through the flood of texts Jaehyun had sent in the last few minutes.

Jaehyun: What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Jaehyun: You're seriously fucking my DAD just because I made one mistake?! Jaehyun: This is so fucked up. You're disgusting. Jaehyun: Delete that shit right now. I can't believe you'd stoop this low. Jaehyun: Answer me you fucking bitch.

Every angry, desperate message made the smile on your face grow wider. You could practically hear him shouting through the screen, the panic, the rage, the disbelief.

You were still smiling when Hongjoong returned with a glass of cold water in his hand. He paused at the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of you, naked, flushed, and glowing, sitting up in his bed while scrolling through your phone with a satisfied little smirk on your face.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Did you already send it?" he asked, walking over to the bed. You looked up at him and nodded slowly, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face.

Hongjoong let out a low, rich chuckle, clearly pleased. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and handed you the glass.

"Here, drink up," he said softly.

You took the glass and drank the rest of the water slowly while he watched you with dark, affectionate eyes. When you finished, he took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw gently as he pressed a slow kiss to your lips.

"Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, voice laced with satisfaction. "Now come here."

Hongjoong pulled you back down onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your body and tucking you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, one hand lazily stroking your back.

"Rest now, sweetheart," he murmured, holding you close. As you drifted off in his warm embrace, your phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand. You smiled against Hongjoong's chest and closed your eyes. Revenge had never felt so good.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @quokkahansung, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo

it had been building for months now, a slow unraveling that you hadn’t even noticed until the exam grades started rolling in and hitting like sucker punches straight to the ribs. a 61 in econ. 58 in calc. a humiliating 43 in the upper-division statistics course you had only signed up for because your advisor swore up and down you’d “do fine” if you just showed up, paid attention, and did the work. of course, nobody told you how hard it’d be to do the work when school felt like breaking your brain with each passing week.

and sure, it wasn’t entirely your fault you were in this now completely catastrophic mess. life happened. you were busy. sooo busy.

tests piled up, papers came due, and before you knew it, the semester had gotten away from you. one skipped lecture turned into two, and then three, because the hangover was too heavy, or you woke up too late, or maybe skipping just became easier than showing up and realizing you still didn’t fucking get it.

your friends didn’t seem to have a problem with it though. in fact, they seemed to be doing just fine, sitting pretty with half the stress you carried while partying with twice the energy. it was infuriating.

how did these trust fund, name-dropping, parents-pay-everything-for-me types just breeze their way through life while you clawed and struggled and stressed for every single second of yours?

“just don’t think about it,” they’d say when you worried aloud about your scholarship.

“take a mental health day. or week. you deserve it!”

“a curve will carry you through like always.”

but that curve was not saving your ass this time, and honestly, the guilt of falling so far behind wasn’t even the worst part.

the worst part was knowing you were the one who let it happen.

there wasn’t anyone else to pin this on, no scapegoat for the party invites you shouldn’t have accepted or the nights out you couldn’t say no to because it’d look bad to disappear. you’d just… kept up.

and things were fun— exciting, even— until they weren’t. until you realized just how hard you were sinking.

and now here you were; failing half your classes, barely passing the others, one more missed lecture away from kissing your scholarship goodbye. and you didn’t even have anyone to turn to for help.

the people you called “friends,” those picture-perfect girls with weekly blowouts paid on daddy’s card and those polished guys with frat pins and parents on donor lists— weren’t actually your friends.

because now that you needed something? now that you were desperate for someone to swoop in and save you from drowning? they only had half-hearted excuses to offer you.

“sorry, babe, we’re swamped with group projects,” one girl had said while sipping an overpriced matcha latte you knew for a fact her roommate paid for.

“dude, just hit up someone in your class. you’ll figure it out,” one guy shrugged, adjusting his collar on what was clearly a brand-new polo shirt for his friday night out.

every excuse only added to the dull ache in your chest.

so maybe they weren’t your friends, not really. maybe they just liked the version of you who didn’t ask for anything, the one who could keep up, who looked shiny and fun and confident all the time.

now, all you had to show for was a rapidly deteriorating GPA, an inbox of ignored emails from professors, a terrifyingly close “academic warning” notice, and a desperate gamble hanging on a thin thread of possibility.

and that gamble was chan.

you didn’t actually know much about him beyond his name, just that he seemed way too hot to be stuck explaining complex theories to freshmen and that he was ridiculously good at his job as a TA for your statistics course.

almost too good.

you sat in the back most of the time, quietly zoning out while he spoke about office hours or went over practice examples that looked more like hieroglyphics to you than math. sometimes you’d stare down blankly at your notebook, pretending to write, just so he wouldn’t call on you.

but now, you didn’t really have a choice anymore, did you?

you were cornered— trapped, honestly— with the weight of your failing grades pressing down on you so hard that it felt like it’d snap your spine in half. chan was your only chance to fix this, and there wasn’t any guarantee he’d even agree to help you.

as far as you could tell from the few glances— okay, stares— you’d snuck during class or the rare moments you did try to pay attention, chan wasn’t the kind of guy who did anyone favors for free. he was helpful, sure. ridiculously patient, disgustingly smart, but distant in this professional, untouchable way that felt more intimidating than approachable.

which sucked because he was so insanely good-looking it made your stomach twist everytime you saw him.

like how was that even fair? how did someone with a full schedule of grading papers and breaking down theorems for struggling students still look like that?

it wasn’t just the obvious things, either, like his jawline being sharp enough to slice through a brick wall or the way his hair always sat perfectly, even if it looked like he’d run his hands through it a million times. or the broad shoulders that strained against his button-ups, the way the rolled up sleeves gave a front-row view of his inked forearms when he turned to write on the board, he’d done that on purpose, you were sure of it.

no, it was deeper than that. something about him just… oozed authority. he had this natural confidence, this charm that made every interaction feel intentional, sharpened by polite smirks and these piercingly knowing looks that made you feel like he could see straight through you.

and that was terrifying.

you weren’t exactly one to shy away from attention. hell, you practically craved it on most days, but the idea of being in the same room as chan, let alone putting yourself at his mercy by asking for a favor this big? it put knots in your stomach.

to be fair, it wasn’t just how hot he was or how sharp his tone could get if someone asked an obviously stupid question. it was the fact that you knew— you knew— he’d seen you at your worst.

because, let’s face it, you weren’t exactly subtle. it wasn’t hard to notice the girl stumbling into class ten minutes late with one hand clutching a coffee she clearly didn’t need and the other hand trying to smooth yesterday’s mascara out from under her eyes. or the girl who’d roll her eyes during presentations, whispering sarcastic comments to her desk mate only to fail her own turn at the podium because she hadn’t read the material.

you saw it in the way his eyes flicked over you sometimes— brief, appraising glances, like he was clocking all the things you were doing wrong but didn’t have the energy to care. and that made asking for his help… well, humiliating wasn’t even the right word.

but when you thought of all your options, or lack thereof, it was clear. chan was your only shot.

which leads you to now, racing down the hallway outside his office hours, totally unprepared and already out of breath just thinking about how this might go.

your sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor as you skidded to a halt in front of his office door, heart hammering out an uneven rhythm.

what were you even supposed to say? “hi, sorry for being the laziest, least deserving person ever, but can you please do me a favor and save my entire academic career ??”

your reflection wobbled in the slim window beside the door, your hair’s slightly disarray, and your tote bag’s slipping off one shoulder. the image made something bitter crawl up the back of your throat.

you didn’t even look like the kind of student chan would want to help. no pressed chinos or perfectly highlighted notes. you didn’t smell like coffee and effort; you smelled like nerves and desperation.

but fuck it. this was life or death.

your knuckles rapped against the wood once, then twice, before your hand fell limply at your side. god, your heart was racing.

“come in.” his voice rang out from the other side, clipped and smooth, familiar to the point where your knees almost gave out. there wasn’t a single part of you that felt ready for this.

steeling yourself with one last breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

chan was at his desk, pen in hand, leaning over a stack of papers with that laser sharp focus that made you question if he was actually human. his glasses sat neatly in place, silver-framed and faintly reflecting the soft overhead light above him. it wasn’t until you had shyly cleared your throat that his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours. they were unreadable, scanning over you, down to your bag and back up again, before settling on your face.

“need something?” he asked, leaning back in his chair slightly.

this was it. do or die.

you tried not to let your voice tremble too much as you spoke. “hi, uh- hi, chan. do you have a minute? it’s about my grades.”

there was a pause, half a second that felt more like half an hour, before the smallest flicker of amusement crossed his lips.

“i figured.”

just two words, said so lightly they could’ve meant nothing, but they were enough to make your stomach curdle. you wrung your hands together in front of you, shifting slightly under the sheer weight of his gaze as he gestured for you to sit.

“go ahead,” he said, resting his chin in his palm now, pen dangling lazily between his fingers. his tone stayed polite, but there was something about the way his eyes followed you as you sank into the chair. “tell me what’s going on.”

fuck. where did you even start?

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly feeling bone dry as you stared back at him. chan’s gaze was pointed, measured, like he wasn’t just listening— he was assessing. waiting, with those sharp brown eyes unblinking, his full attention zeroing in on you in a way that was making it near impossible to concentrate.

this was already a disaster…

“well, um,” you began, your fingers nervously twisting the strap of your bag as you attempted (and failed) to keep your voice level. there was something annoyingly self-assured about the way he sat there, looking completely relaxed while your nerves threatened to devour you alive.

“i’ve been struggling with the coursework,” you said, your tone more apologetic than you wanted it to be. “like, a lot. stats isn’t really coming easy to me, and i guess i.. fell behind.”

he hummed softly, as if that didn’t surprise him one bit.

the sound made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“i know it’s my fault,” you blurted out, tightening your grip on your bag’s strap like it’ll stop the word vomit. “i’ve been really busy, too busy, honestly, and i know i didn’t prioritize things the way i should have, but i swear, i’m not usually this bad—”

“how bad?” chan interrupted coolly.

you blinked, your voice freezing in your throat.

he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, a gesture so calm, so subtle, and yet it sent a wave of dread rolling through your chest anyway.

“your grades,” he clarified, tone light and casual, the pen absently swaying between his fingers as if he wasn’t deliberately making you squirm. “how bad are we talking here?”

“uh…” you hesitated, swallowing again as the words caught on the lump in your throat. there really wasn’t a more humiliating way to admit this, so you just… ripped the bandaid off.

“failing,” you confessed. “like, actually failing.”

if chan was surprised, he didn’t show it. he didn’t do anything, really— except lean back further in his chair and once again let that infuriating, unreadable expression sit on his face.

“right,” he said slowly, dragging the word out as his eyes flitted down to his desk.

right.

the way he said it— low, simple, dismissive— was somehow worse than if he’d said nothing at all.

your cheeks flushed with heat as you continued feebly, trying to fill the silence stretching between you. “but, um, i can fix it! i’m not- i’m not hopeless or anything, and if there’s any sort of grade curve, i can—”

“you’re not getting a curve,” he said bluntly, cutting you off.

your heart sank somewhere into the pit of your stomach.

the words hit you like a brick to the face— not cruelly, and not even softly, just… so matter-of-fact, almost like he hadn’t even registered your desperation.

“oh,” you said lamely, voice wavering.

for a moment, it felt like the shame might actually swallow you whole.

you couldn’t bear to look at him now, but you felt his eyes narrow on you anyway— burning a hole through you as every ounce of resolve you’d built for this conversation unraveled bit by bit. this is what you’d been afraid of, wasn’t it? being dismissed. getting rejected so fast he wouldn’t even finish hearing you out.

“but,” chan said after the pause had lingered just a second too long, “if you’re serious about getting your grades up, maybe there’s something we can do.”

your head shot up so fast you felt lightheaded.

“r-really?” you stammered, your eyes wide and hopeful.

for the first time, his lips turned upward into a sly smirk— a barely-there expression that might’ve seemed harmless if his eyes didn’t gleam the way they did alongside it.

“sure,” he said simply, leaning forward now to rest his elbows on the desk between you. “come to my next office hours, and we’ll see how serious you actually are.”

office hours. simple enough, you thought.

except… the way he said it didn’t exactly feelsimple.

there was this weight behind the words, an implication you didn’t quite have the nerve (or the clarity) to fully dissect.

“okay,” you said quickly, trying to hide how much of a mess you already were.

chan reached for his notepad then, flipping it open before scribbling something down. you didn’t think you were looking particularly hard at his hands or his forearms, but the way the sleeve of his button-up pulled tight around his arm certainly made it hard not to notice.

“you’ll need help catching up. this isn’t something you can fix overnight,” he began, his voice returning to that smooth, professional tone that simultaneously put you on edge and made your chest feel unreasonably tight. “stats takes focus, effort, attention. it’s not something you can bullshit your way through.”

“i know,” you murmured, feeling small under the lecture but nodding eagerly anyway. “i will. i’m- i’ll focus, i promise.”

he didn’t answer, but the faintest hint of amusement returned to his face when he tore out the slip of paper and handed it across the desk.

a phone number.

his phone number.

“what’s this for?” you asked curiously, blinking up at him.

“so i can send you the address.”

your heart stuttered. “uh… address for what?”

he leaned back in his chair again. “you’ll come to my place next week,” chan said, still calm, but there was a heaviness in his tone you couldn’t miss. “that way, you can get the help you actually need, without all the distractions.”

there was something unreasonably intimate about the idea— you couldn’t even imagine slipping into his orbit here without losing your composure, and now he wanted you to see him in his space?

another knot twisted violently in your stomach.

he must’ve noticed the hesitation creeping into your face because the smirk tilted downward briefly, replaced with something oddly serious instead.

“you do want to get a passing grade, don’t you?”

his question made your lips part uselessly. “y-yeah. of course!”

“then i’ll see you there,” he said plainly, with an air of finality that left you no room to argue even if you’d wanted to.

you clutched the small slip of paper tightly between your fingers as the weight of his expectations, and his presence, stuck to your skin like damp heat.

and when you left that night, your own nerves clinging to you like static, one thing was painfully clear.

you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

+

waking up five hours ahead of schedule should’ve been the first sign that today was going to feel completely off.

in fact, the entire day felt like one long, slow burn nightmare that had started from the moment your eyes shot open at 4 am and never quite recovered. with each passing minute, the reality of what you were about to do crept closer, sitting heavier and heavier in your chest.

you were going to chan’s… apartment. alone. to study. nothing else, obviously. just a completely normal… consensual… totally academic tutoring session with quite possibly the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

so what if his arms were covered in tattoos you wanted to lick the outlines of? or if the memory of his sharp smirk from office hours was burned so deeply into your brain that even your shower thoughts felt unholy?

it wasn’t like anything was going to happen.

still, you couldn’t stop the way your whole body buzzed with nerves as you left your apartment that afternoon.

you’d spent way too much time debating what to wear— going through a tornado of outfits in your tiny room until your bed was buried in every top and pair of jeans you owned. you finally settled on something that you hoped gave, oh, this? i just threw it on! what, no, of course i don’t care that deeply about your opinion of me, even if the truth was written all over your mistake-proof eyeliner and the lingering scent of vanilla perfume on your wrists.

as a last minute, desperate attempt to soften him up, you stopped by a bakery near campus to grab some cheesecake slices. they were way too expensive for your crumbling student budget, but you figured they might do a little to save your poor, failing ass if your consistent eye twitch didn’t already scream pathetic gratitude. it was as much a bribe as it was a peace offering. you were about to invade his personal space, after all.

when you got to his building, you were a goddamn wreck.

your hands were clammy against the handle of the bakery box, your stomach twisting into violent knots as you rode the elevator to his floor. when the doors slid open, the reality of the situation hit you all over again; chan had only agreed to this because you were failing.

it wasn’t because he liked you, or thought you were special, or that he wanted to spend any alone time with you, despite every wildly horny fantasy your brain had conjured over the weekend. no, you were here because you were barely passing, and whatever mercy he was giving you came with conditions.

he’s seen it all, you reminded yourself. heard it all. probably helped a million people like you. don’t think you’re anything special, idiot.

your hands shook slightly as you reached his door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you knocked.

the sound echoed back sharply, filling the silence of the hallway like a bomb ticking down the seconds. you almost bolted on the spot before you heard the faint shuffle on the other side, quick footsteps, the sound of the lock turning— and then, there he was.

chan leaned against the edge of the doorframe, his hand rested casually on the knob as his eyes danced over you in an entirely neutral expression. no glasses today, you noted immediately, your stomach sinking at how irritatingly attractive that somehow made him.

“you’re on time,” he remarked, his voice warm, but lightly amused.

your brain tripped over itself like it was your first time understanding words. “oh- yeah. of course! i didn’t want to, uh, keep you waiting.”

...an embarrassing response. great start.

chan’s mouth quirked, faint but noticeable as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“come in. shoes off right there,” he instructed, gesturing toward the neatly lined space by the door.

you followed silently, fully aware of every movement you made as you tugged your sneakers off and balanced them into place. if your nerves hadn’t already clocked out from overuse, your next observation would’ve totally knocked you out:

his place was spotless.

you weren’t entirely sure what you’d been expecting, but “clean freak” definitely wasn’t on the list. chan’s apartment was airy, quiet, and— dare you say— insultingly immaculate.

there wasn’t a single stray sock, not a speck of dust, no sink of dishes, or tangled wires ruining your line of sight to his bookshelves and minimalist decor. every inch of the space reeked of effortless organization, right down to the softly folded blanket on the couch and the perfectly centered pack of coasters on the coffee table.

it made your mess of an apartment seem downright feral by comparison.

“cute shoes,” he said airily from the kitchen, snapping your attention back to him as he leaned briefly into the fridge.

you blinked. “what?”

he nodded toward where you’d set your sneakers by the door. “your shoes, makes me think of those cheesy cartoon outfits. the ones with stars or glitter or something. kinda fun.”

you weren’t sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment, so you went with the safest option. “uh, thanks?”

chan’s faint smirk returned, but just as quickly as it flickered across his face, he tilted his head toward the counter expectantly.

“what’s that?” he asked.

“oh!” you moved quickly to the kitchen, thrusting the bakery box slightly forward in your hands. “i brought these for you! uh, it’s just some pastries- cheesecake slices, actually. i thought they might…” you trailed off, your words jumbling under the weight of his sharp gaze. “you know. be, um, nice. like, as a thank you or something. for helping me.”

you swore his smirk softened into something closer to a genuine grin, but you couldn’t be sure when it disappeared so quickly after.

"you didn’t have to do that,” he said, sliding the box easily from your hands.

“i know, but…” you shrugged weakly. “i just wanted to.”

he didn’t respond, his fingers deftly undoing the box lid before plucking one of the cheesecakes out. the sight felt unreasonably intimate, his hand brushing faint crumbs from the edge of the slice, the subtle twitch of his jaw as he took a bite and let the flavor settle.

“these are good,” he muttered, nodding slightly to himself. “thanks.”

you couldn’t tell if it was your heart that skipped or the entirety of your respiratory system.

+

things started out normal enough— or, at least, as normal as they could be considering who you were talking to and where you were.

after clearing space at his kitchen table, chan brought over your textbook and a loose stack of papers, pen already twirling idly between his fingers as his other hand tugged his chair close enough to yours that your collective elbows almost touched.

you were pretty sure your breathing hadn’t returned to normal for the past twenty minutes. you were hyper-aware of everything. the smooth tone of his voice when he walked you through a concept, the subtle tilt of his head when he waited for your response, the faint drag of his cologne hanging in the air when he leaned just marginally closer to explain something written on the page.

and worse, you were hyper-aware of yourself— your knees glued together without even trying, the way you were actively avoiding looking at his jaw when he spoke lest your brain run headfirst into the gutter.

“you’re staring,” his voice broke through your thought spiral.

shit.

“what?” you said a little too quickly.

“the page,” he clarified, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward knowingly as he glanced between your face and the textbook. “you’ve been staring at it without writing for at least five minutes. you good, or am i wasting my time here?”

heat crawled its way onto your cheeks as you scrambled to collect yourself. “no- no! you’re not wasting your time! sorry, i just—”

“got distracted?”

you hesitated, wetting your lips.

chan’s eyes dragged toward your neck for half a second before refocusing on your face.

“uh… yeah,” you murmured, staring pointedly at the page.

for a few tense beats, you felt like he might call you out for it.

but instead, he just leaned back slightly, pen tapping once against the edge of the table.

“then get back on track,” he said firmly, his gaze somehow impassive and heavy all at once.

sure, you thought bitterly to yourself. easier said than done... when the guy helping you has literal pornstar hands.

chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts once again, a faint edge to it this time that told you he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea that you weren’t wasting his time here. “you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, tapping your mostly blank notebook with the end of his pen.

you blinked out of your haze and nodded way too quickly. “yeah. totally ready. so ready.”

you absolutely, 100%, did not feel ready. not when you were currently dangling a very loose grip on your academic salvation— and yout raging hormones— and failing at both. yet somehow chan managed to keep his composure as if this wasn’t a complete minefield of professional boundaries.

meanwhile, you were over here sweating bullets.

“alright,” he said, leaning forward again, his broad shoulders casually brushing against yours. if he noticed the way you stiffened, he didn’t say anything. “let’s start simple… p-value hypothesis testing. what’s the first step?”

you stared at the page. your brain immediately short circuited.

what’s a p-value, again? what was anything?

chan waited a single beat, then sighed softly, setting his pen down. “you… don’t know the first step, do you?”

oh god. here it came. the humiliation. the “i knew it” look. maybe even a quiet dismissal to wrap things up early before sending you sliding further into a deeper pit of failure.

you started to stammer out some sort of excuse (“oh, i studied this, i promise- okay, maybe not entirely, but i—”), but chan tilted his head and spoke before you could spiral completely.

“it’s fine if you don’t,” he said casually, folding his arms on the table. “that’s why you’re here, right? because you don’t know it yet. the whole point is to fix that.”

you froze.

his tone was impossibly calm, but something beneath it made your breath hitch. if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost call the sharpness soothing.

“right,” you muttered, shrinking a little further. “my bad. let’s…start again.”

chan gave a faint dimpled look as he leaned over the page and grabbed your pen. the pen you were holding. his hand accidentally brushed yours in the process, skin startlingly warm where it touched you. you nearly yelped.

“relax,” he said, not unkindly. “no one’s grading you here, except me.”

unfortunately for you, that felt so much worse..

+

after nearly an hour with his voice calmly talking you through samples, datasets, and linear regression analysis (all concepts that still felt vaguely indistinguishable from alien geometry), you’d somehow managed to make marginal progress— and chan had seemingly noticed.

“see? not bad,” he remarked as he glanced over your most recent set of notes, his eyebrows raising slightly. your handwriting was a little cleaner now, still a chaotic scrawl, but at least things looked almost organized. “you’ve got a handle on it.”

your chest filled with unexpected relief at his words. “you mean i’m not… a complete disaster?”

chan shrugged, brushing his hands over the table before shooting you a teasing grin. “i wouldn’t say that. you’re still a mess.”

you gawked at him. “seriously?”

“but,” he added, “you’re trying. i’ll give you that.”

you weren’t sure whether to hide your face or laugh until you cried, so you settled for rolling your eyes instead. his grin only deepened.

god, why did he have to look so good when he was being insufferable?

you glanced toward the books spread across the table, half a dozen equations and diagrams still staring back at you, and exhaled, hoping the knot in your chest would loosen. it didn’t. of course it didn’t.

the truth was, your nerves hadn’t settled once since you walked through his door. it wasn’t just the teasing remarks or the way he seemed to dig effortlessly under your skin with every perfectly timed knowing glance. it was the way he felt.

chan had this aura about him.

commanding, without shouting. stern, but not cruel. you couldn’t help but want to throw yourself at his feet and say, yes, i’ll sit here and listen for hours if it makes you keep talking. please don’t stop talking.

and okay, that was probably not the best train of thought to have while sitting in front of the TA who controlled your grades. but still.

you were trying.

when the session finally came to an end, you shuffled awkwardly as chan walked you back toward the door, your tote bag once again slung over your shoulder.

“thanks for… all of that,” you started, uncomfortably aware of how clammy your hands felt as they smoothed over the strap. “i know it’s not easy to deal with a failing, uh, wreck of a human being, but—”

“you’re not a wreck,” chan interrupted, his hand pausing briefly on the doorknob as he turned to face you. something in his tone was softer, not as sharp as usual, but still steady enough to stop the flow of your words dead in their tracks.

“…i mean,” you mumbled dumbly, unable to recover from the unexpected crack in his voice.

“i’ve had students who don’t try at all,” he continued, resting his shoulder casually against the door. “they show up late, make excuses, push everything onto someone else. but you’re here. you’re trying. that counts for more than you think.”

your brain did at least three flips and a cartwheel.

“oh,” you said after a beat, staring blankly. “thanks?”

chan’s smile this time was faint, but genuine— and it fucking killed you.

“tuesday next week,” he said casually, pulling the door open before looking you over again. “same time.”

you nodded quickly, trying to ignore how the way he was standing, leaning coolly into the doorway, made his dress shirt stretch just enough to outline the definition beneath his forearms— and goddamn it, your brain needed to stop looking for reasons to self-destruct in real time.

“got it,” you replied finally, your voice cracking slightly. “tuesday. next week. your place.”

for one horrible, beat-worthy moment, chan raised his eyebrows at how awkwardly you repeated the words. his lips tilted faintly, that same painstakingly neutral expression etched onto his face again before he glanced to the side.

“good,” he said, brushing his fingers casually through his blond hair. “don’t be late this time.”

you nodded far too quickly as you stepped into the hallway, your breath caught somewhere deep in your chest and refusing to let go until he gave you a final, two-fingered wave and shut the door behind you.

and as you made your way down the hall, heart still pounding, all you could think was:

there’s no way you’ll survive another week alone with him, is there?

+

if anyone had told you that this was how your semester would go— teetering dangerously between educational burnout and a full blown crisis of unhinged attraction— you wouldn’t have believed them.

then again, you also wouldn’t have believed that chan, your hot-as-hell statistics TA (who was only supposed to exist in the corner of your eye as some mildly inappropriate distraction during lecture), would be giving you one-on-one “study help” in his fucking apartment of all places.

honestly, the past week was starting to make your head spin. it wasn’t just the fact that you’d had two entire hours of uninterrupted, semi-casual conversation with him at his place. it was… everything else.

like how every once in a while now, when you passed him on campus, chan would send you this faint, almost smirk-like smile. just enough to acknowledge you in passing— a reminder that he noticed you, remembered you.

and everytime it happened, your stomach would twist.

the good twist. the kind that left an annoying ache inside you and made your face hot for the entirety of your next class.

chan, for his part, was impossible to read. professionally calm, unfailing in his confidence and aloofness, like every interaction he’d ever had with anyone was just another detail to tuck neatly into his increasingly unbothered day.

sometimes, it caught you off guard how unfazed he was, how precise every movement and word that fell from his lips seemed to be. but then there were little cracks. moments when he’d lean just a little too close, brush his hand against yours, or hold your gaze for just a second too long before looking away.

sometimes you wondered if he even noticed he was doing it, but then, there was a darker part of you, the louder part, that wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

if maybe, just maybe, those brief pauses in his movements carried a bit more weight. if maybe they whispered hints of curiosity, intrigue… or something else entirely.

by the time tuesday rolled around, you’d convinced yourself that your life was one endless spiral of humiliation and implosion.

because the mortifying truth was that, consciously or not, your behavior had become downright pathetic lately.

you’d spent hours agonizing over what to wear to your next session with him. subtle. casual. blank canvas vibes. but… you were also a living, breathing person with a functioning set of eyes and weekly terrible thoughts about chan in compromising positions, so— subtlety didn’t last very long.

instead, only twenty minutes before you were set to leave, you’d swapped out your first two outfits for something else entirely; something tight enough to be dangerous, just low-cut enough to hint without outright show.

effortless, you told yourself in the mirror, even though the amount of effort it took for you to tear your eyes away from your own cleavage was anything but subtle. he won’t even notice!

(spoiler: he noticed.)

and, of course, chan— being chan— acted completely immune.

when he opened the door for you this time, his expression barely shifted, except for a quick glance down at you, his gaze lingering for half a second before he looked away entirely.

“hey,” was all he said. and just like that, you were sweating out of places you didn’t even know could sweat.

you followed him inside like you were walking toward your fucking demise.

the studying itself started as normal, or as normal as it could get when your brain was currently tied up in your own delusions.

chan had cleared the table again, leaning back in his chair with the kind of effortless authority you couldn’t stop staring at even if you wanted to.

“you’re on your own for the first one,” he said simply, sliding a freshly written-out problem set across the table toward you. “show me how you’d do it. no help this time.”

on your own. fucking great.

you nodded quickly, eager, but mostly terrified to disappoint him— and immediately grabbed your pen.

his eyes scraped over your page as you worked, his chin resting against his palm in casual appraisal, until finally glancing over somewhere else. probably the wall or the clock or literally anything but you.

but you… couldn’t stop stealing glances at him.

and it was bad.

unhinged, honestly.

your brain was preoccupied with all the places it shouldn’t have been; his shirt pushed up slightly against his forearms again, revealing more of the ink you’d spent days mentally mapping out from last week’s memories. his brows furrowed faintly with concentration. the way his tongue brushed lightly over his lower lip when he leaned forward slightly to grab—

focus, you remind yourself harshly. seriously, shut the hell up. you’re failing.

...except focusing on him was exactly the problem.

by the time you finished the initial review process, you’d written so many questionable numbers that it almost felt embarrassing to show him the work.

“done already?” he asked, his voice pulling your head up.

“uh,” you said dumbly, sliding the notebook toward him far too quickly. “yeah! kind of.”

chan gave you a blank look, but it softened faintly as he flipped through each line of your work, his mouth twitching slightly with what you couldn’t decide was approval or disappointment.

"well, this part’s definitely wrong,” he said lightly, tapping the edge of your paper. “but at least you got one variable right this time. better than last week.”

a laugh bubbled up your throat before you processed it.

chan flicked his gaze back toward you briefly at the sound, his head tilting faintly.

somehow, the tension in your stomach tightened further.

+

it had only been an hour when things started to spiral.

chan leaned forward to clarify yet another equation you’d totally botched halfway through explaining. the subtle movement made your nerves hit their absolute limit, and suddenly, you couldn’t process a single thing he was saying anymore.

you nodded silently, robotically, as he pointed something out, but the tension had grown so unbearably tight that it felt like your body might snap in half if you didn’t get away for at least two seconds.

“uh, do you mind if i use your bathroom?” you blurted out suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor.

chan lifted an eyebrow but offered no resistance. “sure,” he said easily. “second door on the right.”

you slammed the door shut a little quicker than necessary, chest heaving out a conflicted breath as you caught your reflection in the mirror above his sink.

what were you doing?

you hunched forward slightly, your arms gripping the edges of the counter as your eyes scanned your flushed cheeks and slightly blown-out pupils.

this was insane.

you were really about to self-destruct in front of your TA.

taking shallow, forceful breaths, you tried again to reel in what little sense of self you had left.

it wasn’t just that chan was too good-looking for anyone’s health. it was his sharpness, his confidence— his way of seamlessly controlling the room with the smallest tilt of his chin and the faint, lingering bite of his words.

you weren’t just down bad. you were down atrocious.

your gaze drifted toward the sink while you mentally berated yourself over all the reasons this was so beyond inappropriate.

but instead, your eyes caught something else. an unfamiliar flash of color resting near the corner of the counter: a small, unopened box near the toiletries tray.

...a fucking box of condoms.

you blinked at it blankly for half a second before you stiffened in place with realization.

brand new. pristine. unopened. untouched.

what the hell???

a million questions ricocheted through your head all at once, loud and unbearably intrusive.

did he have a girlfriend? did someone bring these over for him? was he just… that prepared?

your face burned fiercely, the ridiculous line of thought spiraling deep enough to make you lightheaded.

if he was seeing someone, then why was the box unopened? and why, why, were you even dissecting this to begin with, as if it mattered in the first place?

you never had a chance anyway, your brain helpfully supplied. you knew it the second you walked into his office for help.

you didn’t know how long you spent in the bathroom, fuming quietly at the mirror and trying to sweat out the flood of shame that was now taking up every corner of your mind.

chan didn’t say anything when you came back.

but the way his gaze trailed over your face briefly— sharp, appraising, uncomfortably still— made you wonder if he could sense it.

worse, the hum of his voice when he asked if you were ready to start again almost sounded amused.

but no, there was no way.

you nodded numbly, sitting back down as the spiral of your thoughts continued to eat at you little by little.

but then.

chan leaned forward again.

this time— too close.

close enough that his hands briefly brushed over yours as you reached to grab your pen, the low murmur of breath at your ear turned something in your chest completely upside down.

“focus,” he said softly, lips barely tilting upward as his fingers tipped briefly over your notebook.

you stared— stunned, entirely flickered into stasis for just a split half second of hesitation.

the air in chan’s apartment felt so much thicker now, way too humid, like something you could taste if you stayed still long enough.

to your credit, you were trying to focus. really, you were.

but focus didn’t come easy when your TA— your stupidly hot, smart, sharp-tongued TA— was sitting across from you with that faint smirk curling on his lips, watching you too closely like he’d figured you out already.

maybe he had.

“so,” chan murmured, snapping you out of your reverie as he slumped ever so slightly further into his chair. you tried your hardest not to track the way his toned thighs stretched against the fabric of his joggers. “you’ve got two choices.”

“two?” you asked breathlessly, blinking way too fast to feel normal.

he tilted his chin slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table.

“either you tell me why you’ve been sitting there not even pretending to pay attention for the last twenty minutes,” he started smoothly, “or we call it a day, and i can stop wasting my time.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from squirming.

that was new.

this wasn’t the calm, teasing chan from the first session. he didn’t even sound annoyed exactly, but there was an edge to his tone now, sharp and slow and cutting enough that you felt trapped.

“i’m- i was paying attention,” you blurted, a little too defensive to sound convincing.

his narrowed gaze told you exactly what he thought about that.

“you sure about that?” he asked, leaning forward now.

“yeah,” you mumbled, voice faltering slightly as he came impossibly close.

his lips curved sharply.

“prove it.”

the blush reached your ears faster than your brain could process what was happening. “prove it?” you repeated dumbly, as though the words had somehow dropped straight in from another dimension.

“mm,” chan hummed lightly, elbows digging into the edge of the table. the sheer confidence radiating from him was unnerving, not over the top, not cocky, but entirely in control.

he tipped his head toward your notebook, his forearms briefly flexing as he gestured for you to pick up the damned pen.

“last equation,” he murmured, and you swore the way his voice dropped made your heart skip a beat. “show me you’ve been paying attention this time.”

unfortunately, there were several factors actively working against you right now.

the first? chan, with his sharp voice and sharper smirk, was close enough to radiate heat, close enough that your knees brushed lightly under the table. the second? there was no fucking way you’d been paying enough attention to actually solve the equation in front of you.

your chest grew tighter by the second as you scrambled uselessly to make sense of it.

for a brief moment, he said nothing— just watched you with this lazy, barely interested gaze, his lips pressed into an almost-smile that you couldn’t read.

“c’mon,” he drawled finally. “you’ve got this, don’t you?”

the edge of his words made your stomach twist with heat.

surely, he didn’t mean… more than what he was saying, right?

you scribbled down the page as best as you could, desperate and embarrassed as you tried to scrawl out whatever guess felt the least wrong.

but before you could even feign confidence over the partial answer you’d written, a hand abruptly darted into your line of vision.

his hand.

chan’s fingers curled over the edge of your workbook as he slid it back toward himself, “wrong.”

your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

of course it was fucking wrong.

you braced yourself for the usual disappointment or sharp remark. but instead of belittling your work, chan leaned forward again, folding his arms onto the table between you and leaving no room for you to escape his focus.

then, voice low and deliberate, he caught your gaze fully.

“you don’t even try to hide it anymore, do you?”

you froze. your face immediately burned. “what?”

“you’re not here to study,” he said plainly.

your jaw opened and closed uselessly, and you swore your heart was trying to make an escape straight through your ribs.

“you wear this,” chan murmured, his eyes flicking briefly, heatedly, down to the neckline of your fitted top before locking back on yours, “and you expect me not to notice?”

his words sent a wildfire tearing through your entire body.

you struggled to make sense of it all, to explain yourself, to breathe.

he noticed.

this smoking-hot TA, whom you’d been quietly (okay, maybe not so quietly) pining after, noticed. but he didn’t stop there.

chan leaned in further, the confidence practically rolling off of him, and softened his voice even more.

“you’ve got guts, throwing yourself at your TA like this.”

your entire head was a whirlwind of heat and adrenaline.

chan leaned back in his chair for a moment, still studying you like you were an equation he’d already solved in his head.

the glint in his eye left you pinned in place— and you weren’t sure if it was fear or thrill racing through you when he tilted his head.

“get up.”

you blinked hard. “...what?”

“get up,” chan repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate this time.

your legs moved before your brain could catch up, your heart racing wildly as you stood in front of him like it’d been his implicit command all along.

“do you want to keep wasting my time?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, his eyes burning into you like they were stripping you bare.

“n-no,” you stammered.

“then prove it,” he said with maddening calm. his voice was low but full with that commanding edge that kept sending waves of heat to your core.

you opened your mouth uncertainly, but before you could respond, his gaze dropped, gesturing down toward his lap.

and fuck, if that didn’t make your entire foundation shift.

the stretch of his thighs, the bulge visible against the gray of his joggers, the way his legs flexed as he spread them slightly farther apart.

your mouth went dry.

he noticed.

your face burned brighter than ever, your brain scrambling for some rational excuse to back away, but when chan raised an eyebrow at you again, the composure you were grasping at crumbled entirely.

“get on your knees,” he ordered softly.

you were moving before you could think— sinking to the floor, legs folding beneath you as your breaths came out shaky and uneven.

chan wasted no time once you dropped.

“so eager,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly to slip off his sweats. the faint tug of a smirk played on his lips again. “bet you’ve been thinking about this for weeks, huh?”

you swallowed, lips parting slightly as your eyes stayed glued to him.

“let’s see if that mouth is as good as i think it is, then.”

chan spread his legs wider, his joggers now halfway down as his thick cock strained hard under the fabric of his boxers, the outline of it clear enough to make your mouth water.

your eyes tracked the movement as his large hand casually palmed himself through the fabric, letting out a soft grunt as the pressure of his hand teased a bit of relief. he wasn’t even looking at you— his gaze was tilted lazily downward, like he was letting you take in the view. like he wanted you to be as desperate as you clearly were.

“you’re really something, you know,” he muttered, low and taunting, the air between you so tense you could barely breathe. “acting all shy, pretending you’ve been here to study. but this—” his hand rolled against himself once more, squeezing as he finally dragged his eyes back to yours. “this is what you’ve been wanting, huh?”

you couldn’t even think about lying. you just nodded, staying seated on your knees. “...yes.”

that brought another smirk to his lips, one that only deepened as he started to slip his boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

fuck. you’d expected him to be big because, well… of course he was. everything about him was big. his confidence, his presence, his personality. but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things.

he was thick, the head a flushed pink and leaking with so much pre that it glistened just faintly in the low kitchen light.

“eyes up here, sweetheart.”

your gaze snapped up immediately, and his mouth twitched again as he caught you.

“if you wanna use that mouth,” he murmured, tone rougher now, “you’re gonna have to ask nicely.”

you weren’t even sure how you were still alive at this point, let alone speaking, but the words stumbled out anyway in a breathless jumble of need.

“please,” you begged, barely above a whisper. “please. i wanna—” your breath hitched as his cock twitched when you said it, making your chest blaze with heat. “i wanna suck your cock, chan. please.”

he tilted his head, watching you closely for a few suffocating seconds before leaning back in his seat and resting one arm lazily along the table.

“go ahead,” he said finally. “show me what you’ve got.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. your hands shot up, tentative at first, but steadying as your fingers curled around the base of his length. the warmth of his skin and the weight of his cock in your hand made you fucking lightheaded.

you gave him a few experimental strokes, and the faint grunt he let out— mild as it was— felt like a goddamn reward.

“that’s it,” he muttered, almost absent-minded, like he was observing you while thinking a million other things at the same time. “don’t be shy now.”

you ducked your head down, tongue darting out to swipe the bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip. just that one tiny taste had your body heating up everywhere at once, floating deliriously between desperation and excitement as you opened your mouth further to glide him in.

he groaned softly as your lips stretched around him, his other hand coming up to rest lightly at the back of your head.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening just a little as you took more of him into your mouth. “just like that. good girl.”

the praise hit you like a freight train.

the warm weight of him in your mouth, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue— it was already too much, your thighs instinctively pressing together with each muffled moan and wet sound you made.

“deeper,” chan ordered, his tone growing rougher now, sharper, and that alone was enough to set your skin burning like fire.

you let him guide you down further with the hand still resting on the back of your head, his cock sliding over your tongue until it was stretching your throat enough to make your eyes water.

“that’s it,” he groaned again, his voice raspy now. “fuck, you’ve got such a pretty mouth. keep going- don’t stop until you make me cum.”

his words shot straight through your stomach, sending shockwaves of heat pooling between your legs as you bobbed your head, hollowing out your cheeks until he groaned louder.

“you like that, huh?” he said, his grip tightening as a clear bite sharpened his tone. “look at you. so desperate to please me. so desperate to get your TA to cum down your throat.”

you moaned softly at his words, your sounds muffled and messy as you worked your mouth around him, each stroke sinking deeper and deeper.

“shit,” chan hissed, his hips jerking slightly as his cock filled you again and again. “you’re too fucking good at this.”

you barely registered the filthy compliment over the blood rushing through your ears, your focus narrowed to the ragged sounds leaving his mouth as his composure began to slip.

his grip on your head tightened just slightly, enough to keep you in place as his hips rocked forward once, twice— fucking gently into your mouth like he needed to feel you take him even deeper.

“gonna cum,” he grunted, more ragged now as his movements stuttered. “fuck, sweetheart. take it all.”

before you could even think to react, chan groaned low and deep, his head tipping back as heavy spurts of his release shot down your throat. the taste flooded your mouth immediately, thick and milky ropes as you swallowed everything he gave you without hesitation.

his chest heaved as his hips sank back slightly, his grip finally easing from the back of your head.

“holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, a faint laugh pushing out with his exhale as his hand tipped briefly under your chin, guiding your face back up toward him.

you stared up at him, your lips slightly swollen and humiliatingly wet, and the sight alone pulled another satisfied smirk from his mouth.

“such a good little thing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing briefly across your cheekbone.

you swallowed again, your cheeks heating at the praise, but any words you could’ve said were immediately lost when chan shifted in his chair, suddenly leaning forward.

“you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

your stomach flipped entirely.

his hands moved fast, steady as they guided you to your feet before nudging you gently against the corner of the table. it wasn’t until he’d sunk to his knees in front of you that your brain finally caught up.

“chan—” you started, but the sound broke off entirely as his hands sliced up under the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric up toward your hips.

“quiet,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your thigh when he lowered his head. “let me show you how much better this can feel when you let me do all the work.”

your knees nearly gave out, your breath hitching sharply in your chest as his hands gripped firmly at your thighs.

before you could even brace yourself, chan had slipped your panties down in one smooth movement, leaving you bare and completely at his mercy.

“fuck,” he muttered softly, almost like he was speaking to himself—his thumb brushing faintly against your inner thigh as his head tipped downward, his lips hovering just over your now impossibly wet cunt. “you’re already dripping for me. pathetic little thing.”

you whimpered as his tongue darted out to taste you, his movements slow, deliberate, clearly reveling in every sound leaving your mouth.

he started soft, dragging lazy circles against you that made heat pulse low in your stomach, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace.

his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking sharply before your knees buckled. he growled against you, his arm curling around the back of your leg to keep you locked firmly into place.

“not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “gonna make you cum just like this. ruin you on my tongue.”

you moaned, your head falling back as one of your hands flew to grip the edge of the table for balance while the other curled uselessly into his hair. his dark eyes flickered up to you, sharp and direct, and fuck if that wasn’t worse.

“look at you,” he murmured, barely pausing to speak as his tongue sank deeper against you. “you’re so desperate you can’t even stand.”

you whimpered harder as he slid a single digit inside of you, pumping slowly at first before curling— learning exactly where to aim before adding a second and setting you completely on fire.

“fuck- chan, i—”

“that’s right,” he groaned against you, his pace only increasing with each ragged sound leaving your mouth. “cum for me. now.”

and when your orgasm hit— sharp and sudden and impossibly strong— you cried out, your legs nearly shaking from the pressure as chan’s hands steadied you through it, chasing your high relentlessly.

your legs were still trembling, completely jelly when chan pulled back from between your thighs, his lips glistening in a way that should have been absolutely illegal.

he looked sinfully smug as he rose to his full height, towering over you now as you practically slumped against the table. your chest heaved, your body still tingling from the orgasm he’d just ripped out of you, and yet… it wasn’t enough.

you wanted more. needed more.

and chan? chan could see it written all over your face.

“look at this mess,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying a mix of pride and mockery. his hand reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “such a needy little thing. you’re not even satisfied after cumming all over my tongue, are you?”

you shook your head slightly, biting your lip and meeting his eyes with that same look he’d teased you for earlier— desperation. hunger.

his gaze dragged down to where your panties now hung uselessly around your ankle.

“you want me to fuck you that badly, huh?”

you nodded, no hesitation this time— your pride was long gone anyway. “please,” you whispered, your voice small and trembling.

that was all it took.

chan’s demeanor changed into something darker, something more dangerous, as he grabbed your hips and spun you around in one swift movement until your ass pressed against the cold edge of the table. before you could even catch your own breath, his lips were on you. hot, firm, and overwhelming as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

you moaned into his mouth, arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer, his body slotting perfectly against yours. his hand slipped up under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist before he yanked it off entirely, tossing it somewhere behind him.

“fuck,” he muttered into your mouth. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

his hands found your tits next, slipping underneath your bra and squeezing hard, groaning as his thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples.

“these fucking tits,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave as his lips moved against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. “been dying to get my hands on them. watching you in those tight little tops, tempting me every fucking second.”

you gasped when he suddenly tugged down the cups of your bra and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, his wet tongue flicking over it before sucking hard.

“fuck, chan,” you moaned, your back arching instinctively into him.

he pulled back just enough to grin up at you, his lips shining with spit. “you like that, baby?” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “needy thing like you just lives for attention, huh?”

you nodded again, words completely failing you as he let his hands slide lower.

without warning, chan hoisted you up onto the table, his strong hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pulled you to the edge. the cool surface pressed against your skin, a direct contrast to the liquid heat pooling between your legs. he yanked you to the edge effortlessly, spreading you out for him like you belonged there.

“stay right there,” he ordered, his lips ghosting over yours briefly before he stepped back to slide his boxers down fully, his cock springing free again and making your stomach twist with anticipation.

“you’ve been begging for this since the first day you showed up to my office hours,” he continued, his voice rough and low as he stroked himself slowly, his gaze locked on you like he wanted to eat you alive. “and now you’re gonna take it. every. fucking. inch.”

you whimpered, squirming on the table, because he was right. the need had been eating you alive, every accidental graze of his hand or brush of his shoulder only fueling the fire until you couldn’t see straight. your breath caught as he grabbed your thighs again, spreading you wide for him, his cock brushing against your entrance.

“fucking dripping,” chan growled under his breath, almost to himself as he dragged the tip through your wetness, spreading it messily. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll fill you up so good, there won’t even be room to think about anyone else.”

before you could process those words, he pushed in.

the stretch was immediate, a maddening burn that teetered on the brink of pain and unbearable pleasure. he was big— so thick, so fucking big it felt like he was splitting you open, inch by inch, pushing so deep your mind went blank.

“oh my godd—” you gasped, throwing your head back as your hands scrambled for leverage, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it. your thighs trembled as he pressed forward relentlessly, not stopping till his hips were flush against yours and every inch of him was crammed inside you, his cock filling you so completely it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside out.

“god,” chan groaned, his cock pulsing as your walls clenched hard around him like a vice. his head dropped forward, and he growled low in his throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, pinning you in place. “you’re so fucking tight. gripping me like you don’t want me to pull out. you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”

you moaned weakly, unable to form coherent words, too overwhelmed by the way he stretched you, by the way your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering and sucking him in even deeper. a lewd, wet squelch filled the air as he shifted his hips, pulling out just slightly before easing back in.

“thereee it is,” he growled, his dark eyes watching your face intently as your lips parted with a choked gasp. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip almost gently, “taking me so fucking good, baby. like you were made for me. made to take this cock.”

your nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red trails as he began to move in earnest. he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance, before slamming back in with enough force to send your whole body jolting backward. the table creaked, but chan’s pace never faltered.

“fuck- chan—” you sobbed, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs. your thighs quivered uncontrollably as his cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside you, hitting so deep it felt impossible. shame burned low in your stomach with every wet squelch that escaped from between your legs, echoing obscenely in the room, but he only groaned louder at the sound.

“gonna make you scream, baby,” he rasped, his tone rough and uneven as he pounded harder, faster, his grip on your body so tight it felt like you were fused together. “gonna make sure this pussy remembers me. so tight, fuck. can feel you dripping all over me- you hear that? that’s how fucking bad you want it.”

all ou could do was nod, your brain too fogged with pleasure to string together a response. your body was limp against him, letting him use you how he wanted— and god, it felt so good. you clenched around him on instinct, the raw pressure of him stretching you bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every brutal thrust.

“look at you,” chan muttered filthily, his hand coming up to grip your jaw as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “so fucking wrecked already, and i’m not even done yet. you like this? having my cock splitting you open like this?”

“yesyes- fuck, yes—” you babbled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the pressure, the intensity, the sheer, overwhelming fullness.

“that’s my girl,” he growled, shifting his grip to your throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. “you’re mine now. you hear me? no one else gets to fuck you like this. no one else gets to make you cum.”

his words unraveled something deep inside you, sending molten heat racing down your spine to your core. when his thumb slipped down between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, the coil tightening in your belly snapped with brutal force.

“mmpph- chan- ’m gonna- i’m—”

“do it,” he snarled, his cock slamming into you without mercy as his thumb worked faster. “fucking cum all over me. let me feel this pussy milk my cock.”

the words sent you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm ripped through you violently. your entire body tensed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, so powerful it felt unending. you cried out his name shamelessly, your walls clamping down around him so tight he cursed loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“shitshiit- fuck- you’re gonna make me—” chan groaned, and a second later he buried himself deep inside you with one final thrust, his hips grinding against yours as he came hard. he filled you with hot, thick spurts of his cum, so much you swore you felt it flooding you completely, dripping from where you were still stretched around him. his head fell to the crook of your neck as he groaned low and broken, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of harsh breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. chan pressed messy, lingering kisses to the damp skin of your shoulder as his hands wandered down your body, soothing the marks his grip had left behind.

“did so good for me,” he eventually, his lips brushing against your temple as he leaned up just enough to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “so fucking perfect.”

+

chan didn’t let you move for a long time after that.

he insisted on cleaning you up himself, holding you gently as if you’d break if he touched you too hard now. it was a stark contrast to the man who had just fucked you into oblivion minutes earlier, but the shift made your heart ache in the best way.

and as he kissed you softly, whispering how beautiful you were, how proud he was of you for taking him so well, you felt something else settle deep in your chest.

this wasn’t just a onetime thing anymore.

not the way chan kissed you like he didn’t want to stop. not the way he held you like you mattered everything to him.

this man wasn’t going anywhere— and you weren’t, either.

it made you laugh, softly, almost deliriously, as he pulled you into his lap again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“nothing,” you murmured, your lips curving upward. “just… funny how i was losing my mind over finding condoms in your bathroom cabinet when... you didn’t even use them.”

chan blinked at you, then snorted with laughter, pulling you tighter against him.

“don’t need them,” he said simply, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his fingers traced lazy patterns against your bare back. “not with you. never with you.”

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest as you curled into him, completely at peace.

your grades were safe. your heart was safe. and chan?

chan looked at you like no one else in the world would ever come close.

and really...

what more could you have asked for?

you hadn’t been informed of… well… that.

moving in with your best friend changbin had seemed like the most natural decision in the world. rent prices were ridiculous and your previous lease had ended at the worst possible time, and one night over dinner, changbin had mentioned that his apartment had a spare room now that his friend seungmin had moved out.

“just move in with us”, he had said as he shoved another piece of meat into his mouth, “it’ll be fun and you’ll save money. and i know hyunjin won’t mind either”

that seemed easy and simple, the perfect solution.

you’d known changbin all your life and you trusted him blindly. somehow your friendship had stuck despite your completely opposite personalities and years later he was still the first person you called whenever something good or catastrophically bad happened. naturally, that meant you also knew most of the people in his life, including hwang hyunjin, changbin’s roommate and his closest friend, apart from you obviously. 

hyunjin is also the ridiculously attractive man you’ve spent years pretending you don’t have the world’s most embarrassing crush on, but that’s not really important right now. because really, what is there to say? only that hyunjin is unfairly beautiful.

hyunjin is the kind of person who looks like he’s walked out of a fashion show every single day. long dark hair one day and then the next one, a blond buzz cut - you still remember the gasp you let out when you saw him that day - still looking like a model, with his oversized clothes and his expensive rings decorating his elegant fingers. your favourite part of him is his eyes, the same eyes that somehow manage to look both intimidating and impossibly soft depending on who he is looking at. 

you’d met him more times that you could count - birthday dinners, movie nights, karaoke sessions, late night convenience store runs, group vacations. just everything, because if you’re part of changbin’s circle that means you’re part of everything he does.

hyunjin is easy to be around, quiet at first but surprisingly playful once he gets comfortable. a little dramatic and clumsy, yes, but ridiculously affectionate with the people he loves, even if he sometimes pretends not to be. you’ve watched him and changbin bicker over lots of things like an old married couple more times than you care to admit. 

but nothing has ever happened between hyunjin and you, and nothing will ever happen, you had accepted that years ago. your crush exists quietly in the background of your life like a song you occasionally remember. 

is it embarrassing? absolutely.

is it manageable? mostly.

but living with him… well, that certainly could complicate things a bit. 

on moving day, you’d found them halfway through another one of their ridiculous arguments because hyunjin had apparently put together the new desk in your room while changbin supervised which, according to hyunjin, actually meant getting in the way. but as soon as they realised you were there, hyunjin looked over at you with that tiny amused smile of his and his eyes bright.

“welcome home”

he said two words, simple and friendly, yet somehow they’d settled somewhere annoyingly warm inside your chest.

the next few days passed as you unpacked your stuff and tried to get used to your new home, but everything else felt normal and comfortable, exactly like you’d imagined living with them would be like. it was nice, really nice, and you could already tell living with them was going to work, which is probably why what happened later caught you so completely off guard. 

you had been living with them for a week or so. dinner had been cleaned up and hyunjin had disappeared into his room saying he had some work to do, closing the door behind him. you hadn’t thought much about it because you knew he worked from home, something related to computers. that was all you knew, you’d never asked more and it wasn’t really your business if he never explained or said anything else.

you were sitting on the sofa with changbin as you tried to choose a movie when he suddenly paused halfway through scrolling.

“y/n, i forgot to tell you something”

those words rarely lead to anything good.

you narrowed your eyes, “what?”

he scratched the back of his neck, “so…”

“so?”

“you know hyunjin works from home, right?”

“... yeah?”, you asked him, not knowing where the conversation was going.

“well, sometimes, you’ll probably hear… things”

you looked at him, still not understanding anything, “what things?”

changbin looked towards hyunjin’s closed door before lowering his voice for absolutely no reason.

“i just thought you should know what he actually does”

“okay?”

“he… uh…”, he said as he rubbed his face, “hyunjin’s a camboy”

silence. 

complete and utter silence.

“he’s a what?”, you asked him.

“a camboy”

you stared at him and he stared back at you. surely you had misheard. maybe he had said cowboy? yeah, that had to be it.

“no”, you said slowly, “i definitely heard that wrong”

“you didn’t”, he said, still looking at you.

“he’s… a… like…”, you said as you made a vague gesture with both of your hands, “a camboy?”

changbin nodded his head, “yeah”

“so he does, what… livestreams?”

“yeah”

“and people pay?”

“yeah”, he said again.

“that hyunjin?”, you said as you gestured towards his bedroom.

changbin snorted, “yes, that hyunjin”

your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, “okay, i… i mean… wow”

you replayed every time hyunjin casually excused himself saying he had work before he moved to his room or every time he didn’t go out with all of you because he stayed home working.

you had always assumed, well… anything except that. you weren’t opposed to it, that wasn’t the issue here. people could do whatever they wanted to do, and if that worked for him, then good for him.

it was just unexpected, wildly unexpected.

things should have ended there, after that conversation with changbin, because it wasn’t really your business and hyunjin was still hyunjin. learning what he did for work didn’t suddenly change everything about him, or at least, it shouldn’t have.

and yet, the following days proved to be considerably more difficult than you expected because every single time you looked at him, you remembered your conversation with changbin.

there hyunjin was, standing in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast.

he’s a camboy.

hyunjin was sitting on the sofa, his sketchbook balanced on his knee as he draw something while watching a movie.

he’s a camboy.

hyunjin walked past you in the hallway with his hair damp after a shower.

“good morning, y/n”

“good morning, hyunjin”

he’s a camboy. 

you hated it, genuinely, because it was unfair, you didn’t want your perception of him to now revolve around his way of living. people were more than their jobs. if changbin had told you hyunjin was a chef, you wouldn’t spend every waking moment imagining him in a kitchen. so why was your brain being so incredibly unhelpful now?

every time the thought appeared, you tried to shove it away. hyunjin’s your friend and now your roommate as well, he’s the same hyunjin you’d known for years. 

but as the days passed, little questions kept appearing out of nowhere.

how long had he been doing it?

how had he even started?

did many people watch him?

how did any of it even work?

then, the questions started to get more and more explicit. you had never watched a livestream of this type, but you knew enough, and your imagination worked wonders too.

did he show his face?

was he completely naked?

did he have weird kinks?

so when one night hyunjin disappeared into his room after dinner saying he had to work, your curiosity finally got the best of you. a couple of hours later, when hyunjin and changbin were sleeping in their rooms, you lay on your back on your bed, the sheets pulled up to your waist, as you stared at the ceiling with your phone in your hands.

you couldn’t stop thinking about hyunjin, and what he may have been doing just some hours ago, so before you even realised you were actually doing it, you unlocked your phone and tried to search his page. 

you hadn’t asked changbin the name of hyunjin’s page or his account or whatever he used, absolutely not. asking your best friend for information about another friend’s work, and especially that kind of work, felt invasive. 

and there was no way you could ask hyunjin himself.

“hey, so… what’s your username?”

you physically cringed just imagining it. no, never. 

all you had was his name, and you knew it was a long shot, but you still tried anyway. you tried a couple of pages first, all of them obviously wrong, just low quality clips and guys who looked nothing like him. then, by some miracle, you found the right link and his page loaded. before you even realised what you were doing, you were already watching him stroke his cock on camera while your own fingers worked deep inside your cunt until you came around them. 

you hadn’t meant to do that. honestly, you just wanted to see how he did it, to answer the questions that had been burning in your head, but it was as if you were hypnotised from the moment you saw him and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

the next days, it was impossible to stop. every night you pulled up his page again and watched his old livestreams until you came hard around your fingers, biting your lip to keep you from moaning his name out loud. you saw the new ones too, the ones he did just as he disappeared into his room after dinner some nights. you saw those once he had finished streaming, when you were sure both of the boys were sleeping and they couldn’t suspect what you were doing in your room. 

each time you came just from watching him, just hearing him say “fancy seeing you here” at the beginning of every single live had you already dripping for him, your clit throbbing before he even touched himself, before you even touched yourself. 

what was even more difficult was living with him and changbin as if nothing had changed. sitting at the kitchen table while hyunjin made coffee, pretending you hadn’t spent the previous night with your fingers inside your cunt to the sound of his groans. pretending you didn’t stare at his long fingers wrapped around his mug and wondered how they would feel inside you, stretching you open. every casual brush of his arm against yours sent heat flooding between your legs, every single time he looked at you, you had to look away, you couldn’t stare at him for longer than a second.

you hadn’t been informed of that and now, you didn’t know how to keep hiding this any longer.

you’ve been living with the boys for a month now, and things have just gotten worse, you can thank your imagination for that. the boys still have no idea what you do behind doors, but your little situation has not improved, not even a little bit. that’s why every time you have the chance to focus on something else that’s not hyunjin or his fingers or his cock or his lives or anything related to him, you take it and run away with it. 

but of course, your plan backfired today.

you had spent the morning at work, counting down the hours until your shift ended. nothing exciting happened, just a handful of emails and a couple of meetings, the usual. once you finally clocked out, you met one of your friends who was already waiting outside your office and you both went to eat together.

the original plan had been to have lunch together and then spend the rest of the afternoon shopping but unfortunately, halfway through lunch, your friend started to look paler and then she told you she was not feeling good and that she thought she should go home. you had nodded your head and told her to rest, that you would catch up other day, whenever she felt better.

after making sure she’d booked a ride home safely, the two of you hugged goodbye outside the restaurant and you watched her leave. you considered continuing with the shopping alone, but then, rain started pouring down and seeing that you were definitely not dressed for that - you were wearing a summer dress and a pair of high-heels - you decided to put an end to the shopping trip and go home earlier than you had planned. 

as far as you knew, changbin wouldn’t be home for hours. he’d mentioned over breakfast that work was going to run late and after that he planned on heading straight to the gym before coming back. knowing him, he probably wouldn’t be home until sometime after midnight. 

hyunjin… well, you had no idea, his schedule was always harder to predict and you hadn’t asked him what his plans were today. 

now, after a walk in the rain, you enter the apartment and close the door behind you, leaving your shoes at the entrance and letting out a relieved sigh as your feet finally touch the cool wooden floor. but then, you hear something, a faint sound, so quiet you can’t tell where it came from. you frown and listen for another moment, but there’s nothing there, just silence.

you shrug it off, run your hand through your hair and then start walking towards your room but just as you’re halfway down the hallway, you hear another sound, this one clearer. your steps slow a bit and then you realise it came from hyunjin’s room, which was closed.

almost without thinking, your feet carry you towards it, trying not to make any noise at all. you stop outside his door and then lean towards it, tilting your head and holding your breath until you hear his voice, clear enough this time.

“fancy seeing you here”, you hear him say through the door.

your entire body freezes. you know that sentence, you’ve heard it before, more than once. it is the way he greets his viewers.

oh.

oh.

he is doing a livestream right now. 

you take a hurried step backwards as though the door itself had burned you. you didn’t expect this and you know you are not supposed to be here. you had just come home early because your plans had fallen apart.

if your friend hadn’t gotten sick…

if it hadn’t started raining…

you wouldn’t have been anywhere near the apartment.

you look towards the front door. leave, that’s what your mind tells you. you could go and maybe sit in a café for a while, or you could go to a bookstore, just anything, but then you look towards the windows in the living room and you see how unrealistic that idea is. the rain lashes against the glass in thick sheets and the sky has turned almost black. going back outside right now isn’t exactly appealing.

you exhale slowly. okay, fine, you will stay home. you could just go to your room or take a long shower or maybe watch a movie or cook something. you could do literally anything else, just anything that kept your mind occupied.

you stand there for another second, trying to convince yourself that this is a perfectly ordinary afternoon, that hyunjin is simply working and that what he is doing is none of your business, that you can completely ignore it.

you already know, however, that your own mind isn’t going to make that nearly as easy as it sounds. 

when you step inside your bedroom and close the door, your thoughts refuse to behave and images start flashing behind your eyes: his long fingers wrapped around his cock, his abs tightening when he’s close, his groans that always push you over the edge, his hand moving to push his hair away as his bicep becomes the only thing you can focus on. you press your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing heat between them.

then you hear a loud groan ripping through the walls, the sound raw and needy, hitting you like a spark and your self-control snaps. you drop onto your bed, your phone already in your hand as you pull up his livestream. once it starts working, you see he’s still wearing his boxers, but his hand is inside them, stroking his cock, as the chat explodes with comments and donations. 

user69: take your cock out

edgequeen: i will beg if you want me too

cumslut: i want you to fuck my face 

“you’re all so needy today. i bet you’re all dripping for me”, he says, his voice low and teasing, “do you really wanna see how hard i am for you right now?”

you’re completely soaked, and not just from the rain now. you watch his hand move under his boxers again, the outline of his cock clear as he gives it a firm squeeze.

princessonline: please show us your cock

user69: you’re edging me so bad i’m gonna come

he smirks at the comments and then hooks his fingers into the waistband and pushes his boxers down, his cock springing free and already leaking. 

you don’t even think, you shove your panties down your legs and kick them off, keeping the dress on because you’re too desperate to bother about that now. your fingers slide straight between your folds, finding yourself already slick and swollen.

hyunjin wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking properly, smirking at the camera, “you like watching me play with my cock like this, huh? you want me to go faster?”

cumslut: yes pls

user69: i want you to come inside me

princessonline: my sheets are soaked

he speeds up a little, his thumb swiping over the tip and spreading the precum down his length as he keeps talking, and every word he says makes you even wetter. you push one finger inside you and then another one, imagining they’re his fingers, stretching you open the way you’ve fantasised about for weeks now. your hips roll up to meet your hand while you watch his hand on his cock.

he keeps talking, his voice rougher now, “fuck, i’m getting close. wanna see me coming? wanna watch me paint my stomach while you all come with me?”

user69: YES 

cumslut: i wanna lick you clean

edgequeen: please fuck me

his hand moves faster, the tip of his cock disappearing into his fist again and again. your fingers move in time with him, your thumb rubbing your clit as your thighs shake and your breath comes in short gasps. you see how his abs tighten and his hips jerk and then he comes hard, his cum streaking across his stomach and chest while he groans loudly.

the sight pushes you over and your climax crashes through you. your cunt pulses around your fingers and before you realise, a moan escapes you, too loud, probably the loudest you’ve ever moaned. you slap your hand over your mouth, praying that hyunjin hasn’t heard you, you don’t want him to know you’re home, much less what you are doing. you see hyunjin panting and smiling lazily at the camera, coming down from his high.

you don’t wait to see what he does or to hear what he says next, you close the livestream so fast that your phone nearly slips from your hands. the only thing you can hear is your own breathing and your heart beating so fast you’re sure it’s gonna fall out of your chest.

has he heard you?

you had heard him groaning and moaning during his livestream today, which means that it’s possible - more than possible if you’re honest - that he has also heard you. you squeeze your eyes shut and just hope and pray that he hasn’t, you honestly have no idea how you would deal with that.

but there is no point spiraling, you can’t undo anything now, the damage is already done. you set your phone on the bed and then sit completely still, listening.

nothing.

then, after some minutes of sitting and waiting, you hear movement outside your bedroom. a door opening, then footsteps and then another door. you hold your breath until you hear the rush of running water echoing through the apartment. 

he’s in the shower.

you let out a slow breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

okay, think y/n. 

if he had heard something, wouldn’t he have come looking?

wouldn’t he have knocked on your door? to check what was that noise?

instead, he’d gone straight to shower. maybe everything is fine and you’re just panicking over nothing. you look towards your door and think again, because you need to act normal. hyunjin knew you’d planned to be out all day, but there was no reason you couldn’t simply arrive home now.

he is in the shower and you could just leave your room and go to the kitchen, and if the two of you happened to run into each other then you’d smile and say hello, mention the rain and tell him that your plants had been cut short.

it was perfectly ordinary, entirely believable.

you stand up and smooth the wrinkles from your dress before walking towards your door. you take one last steadying breath and then open it, making sure that he’s still in the shower before you leave your room. you pad quietly towards the kitchen and once you get there, you open the cupboard, grab a glass and fill it with cold water.

you lean against the counter and take a long sip, letting the cool water settle your nerves as you stare at the rain tapping against the windows. everything’s gonna be fine, you just need to stop overthinking, but you are so absorbed in your thoughts that you completely tune out everything else. you don’t hear the shower stopping, you don’t hear the bathroom door opening and you definitely don’t hear footsteps crossing the hallway.

“hey, y/n”, you suddenly hear hyunjin’s voice, “i didn’t see you there”

you spin around so fast the glass nearly slips. hyunjin is standing a few feet away, a towel slung low around his hips as droplets slide down his chest and stomach. you force your eyes up to his face, heat crawling up your neck.

“hi, hyunjin”, you manage to say, your voice thinner than you wanted.

you can’t quite look at him, not when every inch of exposed skin reminds you exactly of what you just watched him do.

he tilts his head, looking at you, “weren’t you gonna be out all day?”

you nod your head, feeling your nerves growing inside you again, “yeah. but um… my friend, uh… she got sick and then the rain started, so… yeah, we cut the plans short”

your gaze keeps drifting back to his chest despite yourself. to the way water trails over the defined lines of his muscles, catching on one of his nipples before continuing lower. you force yourself to turn away, setting the glass down on the counter, trying to calm yourself down.

hyunjin hums and then you hear him move and you think he’s leaving, that he’s going to his room to put his clothes on. but then you feel him, just behind you. he’s suddenly close, so close that his bare chest nearly brushes your back. the heat of him radiates through the thin fabric of your dress and his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, his lips barely grazing your skin as he speaks.

“did you enjoy the show?”

your whole body locks up. you don’t answer him, you can’t, but he doesn’t need you to, he already knows.

“oh, don’t tell me you thought i wouldn’t hear you moaning from your room, sweetheart. besides, i knew it was only a matter of time. i know changbin told you what i do, so i figured sooner or later you’d break”, he says, as he gets closer to you, “what? you didn’t think i had noticed the way you look at me? at my fingers? you really have no idea, sweetheart”

each word presses his lips closer to your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. one of his hands comes up and he places it on your waist, just to remind you how close he is. the towel around his hips moves with every slow inhale, the fabric barely holding on. you can feel the hard line of his cock through it, pressing against your back as he leans in even more.

“i already know you watch my livestreams”, he says, “and i know you touch yourself watching me. i know you soak through whatever clothes you wear. and today? sweetheart, i heard you as soon as you entered the apartment, but hearing you moan and come while i was stroking my cock for the camera… fuck, that almost made me lose it right there”

his other hand trails up, his fingertips skimming the side of your neck before he tucks a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“you were so loud, y/n, you couldn’t even cover it up in time. i bet your pussy was clenching around your fingers while you watched me come all over myself”, he says, getting even closer to you, “did you wish it were my fingers instead? or my mouth? or maybe it was my cock inside that tight cunt as you took every inch of me?”

he moves his hips, letting you feel his hard cock nudging against you through the towel. his lips brush the sensitive spot just below your ear, almost a kiss now.

“i’ve been waiting for you to slip up”, he says, “every time you looked at me across the table, every time your eyes dropped to my hands… i knew exactly what you were thinking. i knew you were imagining my fingers inside you, making you drip down my wrist. and now you’re here, and i bet you’re soaked not just from the rain, and you’re trying so hard to pretend you’re not desperate for it”

his hand slides lower, pulling you back against him. the towel is the only thing between his bare cock and the thin material of your dress and you can feel every twitch, every pulse as he hardens further. he rocks his hips against you once, letting his length drag along the curve of your ass.

“still not saying anything, sweetheart?”, he teases you, his teeth grazing your earlobe, “that’s okay, your body is doing all the talking. i bet if i reached under this dress right now i’d find you dripping. you want me to check? you want me to see how soaked you are for me, sweetheart?”

he doesn’t wait for permission, he just lets his fingers trace the hem of your dress, toying with the fabric, lifting it inch by inch. the cool air of the kitchen kisses your thighs, making you shiver. his other hand stays firm on your waist, keeping you pinned between him and the counter.

“tell me the truth, y/n”, he whispers, his voice now rough with want, “did you come harder thinking i might hear you? did it make you even wetter, thinking about me in my room, stroking my cock while you had your fingers deep inside you at the same time?”

his lips press a slow and open-mouthed kiss just behind your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. his towel slips a bit lower on his hips, the tip of his cock now unmistakably hard and hot against you. he grinds forward again, letting you feel it.

“i’m still hard”, he says, “i came so hard thinking about you watching me, but it wasn’t enough. not when i knew you were right there, with your fingers inside you, wishing it was me. you want me to finish what i started? you want me to fuck you until you can’t stay quiet anymore?”

his hand finally slips beneath the hem of your dress, his fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of where you’re aching for him. he pauses there, breathing hard against your ear, waiting and teasing you, letting the anticipation stretch until your legs tremble.

“say the word, y/n”, he murmurs against your ear, “or i will keep telling you every little thing i’ve wanted to do to you since i first saw you. your choice”

your lips part on a shaky breath, his name slipping out before you can stop it.

“hyunjin…”, your voice comes out soft, but the way your hips twitch back against him betrays how badly you need more.

he chuckles low against your ear, “what do you need, sweetheart?”, he says as his fingers continue brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, so close yet still denying you, “tell me. use your words”

you swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper, “i-i need you. p-please, hyunjin… i need you”

the second the words leave your mouth, his hand slides higher. he expects to meet the thin barrier of your soaked panties, but instead his fingers glide straight through your slick and bare folds. a deep and guttural moan rips from his throat, hot and filthy against your ear.

“fuck… no panties? you’re gonna be the death of me, y/n”, his voice cracks with raw hunger as two of his fingers part your soaked lips, dragging through the mess you’ve made of yourself, “you were standing here with me, dripping down your thighs with nothing covering this greedy little pussy? christ”

his middle finger circles your clit once before sliding lower to tease your entrance. he presses just inside, feeling how wet and ready you are and another broken sound escapes him.

“you’re soaked, so fucking wet for me already, sweetheart. did you come that hard earlier just from watching me? or were you saving this for when i finally touched you?”

you can’t answer him, you’re sure you’ve even stopped breathing at some point. his fingers are already working you open, sliding through your folds. he presses two fingers inside you without warning, knuckles deep in one smooth thrust, and your knees nearly buckle. hyunjin catches you with his arm around your waist, holding you while he moves his fingers in and out of you.

“that’s it”, he says, his teeth scraping your earlobe, “take my fingers, sweetheart. let me feel how tight you are. i bet you’ve imagined this every single time you watched me”

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles while his fingers thrust deeper and faster. the towel around his waist is barely hanging on now, the hard length of his cock pressed against your back, twitching every time you clench around his fingers. 

you turn your head just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his for the first time since he caught you, and when you speak, your voice comes out hoarse and desperate.

“i need you, hyunjin. right now”

something in his gaze snaps and finally, he crashes his mouth against yours in a hard and searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim every inch. his hand stays buried between your legs, his fingers still moving inside you as he devours your mouth. you moan into the kiss, your hips rolling down onto his hand, chasing the friction.

he breaks the kiss and pulls his fingers out of you, turning you around so he can growl against your lips.

“legs around me”, he says.

before you can process it, his hands are under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist, your dress riding up as your bare and soaked cunt presses against his stomach. the towel slips lower with the movement, barely clinging to his hips as he carries you down the hallway towards his room. 

when he closes the door behind you, he lays you down on his bed and for a moment he just stands there, looking down at you, his hair still damp, his chest heaving and the towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, the thick outline of his cock straining against it.

“fancy seeing you here”, he says, his voice low and teasing, the exact same line he uses at the start of every livestream.

the words hit you like a spark and you reach up, fisting the front of the towel to yank him down on top of you. your mouths meet again, hotter this time, your tongues sliding together as his body covers yours. his hands are everywhere - sliding up your sides, gripping your waist, throwing his towel off and then finally tugging your dress up and over your head. your bra comes next, his eyes dark as they rake over your bare body.

now there’s nothing between you, and you can feel his cock, thick and flushed, against your body. he settles between your spread thighs as he keeps kissing you like he’s savouring every second before he finally takes what you’ve both been waiting for. his hands keep roaming greedily over your skin, his hands sliding up your ribs to cup your breasts and his thumbs circle and pinch your nipples until they stiffen under his touch.

you arch into him, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging hard to pull him closer while your other hand grips the back of his neck, your nails digging into the muscle there. your hands move down his back, feeling every flex of his shoulders as he grinds his body against yours, leaving a hot smear of precum on your skin.

he breaks the kiss and pulls back just enough to smirk down at you while you chase his lips with a needy whimper. your hips roll up, seeking friction, but he moves away, denying you.

“tell me what you want, sweetheart”, he says, “come on, say it”

you whisper his name first, your voice showing how desperate you are, “h-hyunjin…”

he chuckles and lowers his head to kiss and bite along your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave marks.

“more than that, y/n. tell me exactly what you want”, he says as his lips trail lower, biting at your collarbone as your moans fill his room, your body trembling under his.

your voice cracks as you gasp, “i-i need your fingers… p-please”

“good girl”, he says against your throat before he moves his face just enough to kiss you again.

you feel one of his hands moving down your body until two of his fingers slide through your folds and then he pushes them inside you. he starts curling them, stroking your sensitive spot while his thumb focuses on your clit. your walls clench around his fingers, your juices coating his hand as he moves his fingers faster.

he kisses you through it all, his tongue pressed against yours as his fingers fuck you harder, stretching you open. your climax builds fast, your thighs shaking until it crashes over you, and you come hard on his fingers, letting out a broken cry that is swallowed by his mouth as your arousal drips down his wrist.

hyunjin pulls his fingers out of you, glistening with your release.

“open up”, he says as he presses his fingers to your lips.

you part them obediently, sucking his fingers clean and tasting your own cum as he watches you with dark eyes. he pulls them out of your mouth, only to slide them back inside your still-twitching cunt for a few more thrusts, drawing out more of your wetness. he pulls them out again, bringing them to his own mouth this time, his tongue licking every drop from his skin with a low groan. 

he kisses you again, his tongue sweeping deep into your mouth as he shares the lingering taste of your release.

“fuck, you taste so good”, he says against your lips, “but i need to taste you better, sweetheart”

his body moves lower, his mouth trailing wet kisses down your throat and stomach until he finally settles between your spread thighs. his hands grip your hips firmly and then he dives straight in, his tongue flattening against your sensitive clit before moving into your dripping cunt.

“hyunjin!”, you scream at the sudden intensity as his mouth devours you.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard, while your other hand claws at his shoulder, desperate to anchor yourself. he doesn’t hold back, his tongue fucks into your folds with relentless strokes, lapping up every drop of your wetness, sucking your swollen clit between his plump lips and flicking it mercilessly.

you look at him and the sight makes your head spin - his eyes are half-closed in bliss, his face buried in your cunt and his jaw moving as he eats you like a man starved. you’re still twitching from the previous orgasm, overly sensitive, but the sight of him drowning in your cunt sends fresh arousal flooding out, coating his chin and making you even wetter. 

he pauses just enough to look at you, only to find you already looking at him and he growls against your throbbing clit.

“that’s it, sweetheart. keep your eyes on me”, he says and then his tongue moves back to your entrance, his nose pressing against your clit with every movement, with his eyes still on yours.

your hips buck against his face but his strong hands pin you down, pulling you closer to his face so he can bury himself deeper.

“hyunjin… i- oh god… i’m gonna come”, you gasp, your voice breaking as you feel the next orgasm coming, your walls clenching around nothing but his relentless tongue.

“come for me”, he says, his voice muffled against you but his eyes never leaving yours, “come all over my mouth”

his words shatter you and your orgasm rips through your body right then. your cunt pulses and gushes onto his tongue, your juices spilling out in hot waves that he eagerly swallows as you squirt all over his face. his hands move your hips even tighter against his face, holding you there as he drowns in you, as his tongue continues moving against you until you’re trembling and shaking beneath him.

hyunjin’s mouth lingers between your thighs for one last lick, his tongue dragging through your folds to gather every trace of your arousal before he starts moving again. his lips press wet, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, then higher across your hipbone, leaving a glistening trail of saliva and your own arousal on your skin.

he moves slowly, savouring every inch of your skin, his breath hot against your stomach as he kisses you there, his tongue dipping into your navel for a teasing second. your body shakes under him, still pulsing from the intensity of coming on his tongue, and on his fingers before, and he groans when he feels your muscles twitching.

he continues moving, his mouth closing over one of your nipples to suck hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before releasing it. he moves to the other and his tongue swirls there, lapping at the hardened bud while his hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. 

he reaches your mouth again, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he devours you with the same hunger he showed your cunt moments ago, his body settling over yours and his cock pressing heavy against your thigh. 

“such a good girl for me”, he murmurs against your mouth between kisses, his voice rough with lust, “you came so hard on my tongue, squirting all over my face. fuck, you’re perfect”

your hand moves downwards, your fingers stretching towards his cock and desperate to wrap around it and guide him inside you. but hyunjin catches your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm, yet controlled.

“shh, sweetheart”, he whispers against your lips, “not yet”

he moves both of your hands above your head, pinning them there with the strength of just one of his hands, his long fingers easily encircling both. the position leaves you stretched out beneath him, your chest heaving, completely at his mercy.

he keeps kissing you, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth while his free hand roams your body. his lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, where he sucks at the pulse point, his teeth scraping over your sensitive skin before he soothes the spot with his tongue. 

the sensation drives you wild. you start rubbing yourself against him, your hips rolling up desperately, and your cunt grinding along the underside of his cock in search of friction. the tip catches against your clit with every desperate thrust of your hips, sending sparks through your already oversensitive nerves.

“please”, you beg him, “h-hyunjin, please… i need you inside me. just… fuck me, i can’t take it anymore”

his free hand moves to grip your chin firmly, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his.

“open up”, he says again, his eyes locked on yours.

you part your lips, your mouth falling open as he leans closer to you. he lets a string of spit fall from his mouth directly onto your tongue, warm and thick, and the moment it lands you moan loudly. he moves to kiss you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth to mix with the spit he just gave you, swallowing your desperate sounds as he devours you all over again.

his hand releases your chin and slides down between your bodies. you feel the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, sliding through your drenched folds once, then again, as he coats himself in your juices before he pushes forward. he enters you, stretching your walls as he sinks inside with one long and controlled thrust, filling you completely until his hips are flush against yours.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust, he starts moving slowly, pulling back and sinking in again, making broken moans spill from your lips.

“fuck”, he growls against your ear, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart, you’re dripping”, with each sentence comes another thrust, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, “you feel so fucking good wrapped around me”

your moans grow louder and needier, your body arching up to meet every snap of his hips against yours, “hyunjin- i… more, p-please… harder-”

he chuckles against your ear, the sound vibrating through his chest where it presses against yours, “you want it harder? greedy little thing. you’ve been watching me fuck my hand on camera and now you need the real thing, don’t you?”, he says as his pace stays controlled and teasing, “say it, y/n. tell me how bad you need my cock”

“please”, you whimper, without realising the tears that escape your eyes, “i need it- i need you to fuck me harder, please, hyunjin- let me… let me touch you”

his free hand moves to your hip, gripping hard enough to bruise but you don’t fucking care.

“you’re such a good girl, begging for it. and you know what, sweetheart? good girls get what they want”, he says and then releases your wrists.

the moment your hands are free, they move to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands and yanking him down into a desperate kiss. your tongues slide together, messy and hungry, while your legs wrap tighter around his waist, your heels now digging into his back to pull him deeper inside you.

hyunjin groans into your mouth and finally lets go of the slow pace. his hips snap forward harder and faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room, mixing with your loud and shameless moans.

“that’s it- fuck”, he says, groaning against you, “you’re so tight, sweetheart. you were made for me”

you tug harder on his hair, pulling him even closer as you kiss him again. every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you over and over again until your vision blurs. you’ve never felt anything this intense before, your whole body lights up with every stroke, pleasure coiling again tighter and tighter inside you. 

hyunjin pulls back just enough to look down between your bodies. his eyes darken as he watches the way your stomach bulges slightly with each deep thrust, the outline of his cock pressing up against your belly.

“look at that”, he moans, his voice wrecked, “i’m so deep inside you i can see it. fuck, that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen, you’re the hottest thing i’ve ever seen, y/n”

he presses his palm flat against the bulge and the pressure makes you cry out, a fresh gush of wetness soaking his cock and the sheets under you. you look down to see it and the added pressure and the sight of it send you spiraling. your walls clamp down around him like a vice, gripping him so tightly he curses loudly.

“shit- y/n, fuck- you’re gripping me so hard-”, he says as his rhythm falters for a second as he fights to keep control, his hips stuttering against you, “f-fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that”

he leans down again, capturing your mouth in another kiss before he pulls away just enough to speak.

“look at me”, he says with a low voice, “eyes on me when you come, sweetheart. i wanna watch you fall apart on my cock”

you force your eyes to stay on his, meeting his intense gaze. his thrusts grow erratic, deeper and harder, the tip of his cock battering that spot inside you relentlessly.

“h-hyunjin, i’m- i-”, you start to say but you can't because another moan escapes you.

the pressure builds too fast and your mouth falls open on a silent scream as your orgasm finally crashes over you. your cunt pulses and flutters around him, squirting again, soaking his cock and thighs as you moan his name over and over.

his eyes never leave yours and the sight of you coming undone under him, with your walls gripping him, pushes him over the edge. he thrusts inside you one more time and then he comes as he spills deep inside you, flooding your cunt. his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, your eyes locked as you ride out the aftershocks together, your bodies trembling against each other. 

hyunjin’s mouth descends again and his lips move against yours while his hips give one last, shallow thrust inside you. the movement drags his softening cock through your oversensitive walls and you wince sharply, a tiny whimper escaping into the kiss. 

“shh”, he murmurs against your lips, the sound low and soothing, “i know, sweetheart, i know”, he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jaw, “you must be so sensitive right now. let me take care of you”

he eases out of you with careful slowness, the tip of his cock slipping free with a wet sound and making your thighs twitch. cum immediately starts to trickle out of your cunt, warm and thick, sliding down between your cheeks and onto the sheets. hyunjin watches the mess with satisfied eyes before he rolls onto his back and reaches for you. his strong hands grip your waist and lift you, pulling your body on top of his so you’re pressed together once more.

you sink down against his chest and he pulls you into another kiss, much slower and deeper this time, almost tender. the frantic pace from moments ago melts into something softer, more intimate. his tongue moves against yours, exploring your mouth, and the change makes your head spin. this is not the same hyunjin who just pinned you down and fucked you senseless. this hyunjin is gentle, almost sweet, and the change leaves you dizzy with how much you crave both sides of him. 

he breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth along your cheek, his voice teasing, “so… you’ve watched me stroke my cock on camera as you got yourself off to every word i said?”, he says as his fingers trace idle patterns on your lower back, “turns out my pretty roommate has a filthy little crush, huh?”

heat floods to your face and then you try to hide against his neck, but hyunjin catches your chin between his fingers and tilts your head back up, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“hey”, he says softly, the teasing gone from his voice, “don’t worry, i’m just as crazy about you”

he leans in and kisses you again, slow and sweet, swallowing any protest you might have made.

“i haven’t stopped thinking about you since i first met you. and ever since you found out what i do, every time i went live i would wonder if you were watching me, and i would hope you were touching yourself to me”, he continues. 

your lips meet again, the kiss turning deeper and wetter. his hands slide down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh and gently rocking your body against his. his cock, still a bit hard and slick with both of your releases, nudges between your folds. the tip brushes your swollen clit and you wince again, a soft hiss escaping you.

“sorry”, he whispers against your lips, stopping his movements, “too much?”

you pull just enough to shake your head, smiling down at him, your face soft and still a little dazed.

“no… it’s okay. i just… i need a minute”, you say as you push up on shaky arms, looking at the mess of sweat and cum on both of you, “i think i’m gonna have a shower”

hyunjin’s mouth curves into a wicked little grin and before you can move off him, he sits up, wraps his arms around your waist and stands up, lifting you with him. your legs instinctively wrap around his hips as he carries you towards the bathroom, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“shower with me, sweetheart. we’ll get clean and maybe… we can go for another round”, he nips at your earlobe, his words making your stomach flip.

you laugh against his skin, the sound bright and breathless, and then you move your face just enough to look at him before you pull him down into another kiss as he steps into the shower and reaches for the water.

the spray hits both of you at once, the water warm and soothing against your bodies, but neither of you lets the other go. your lips stay locked together, your tongues sliding slow and deep while his hands roam your wet skin, already promising more.

a/n: fancy seeing all of you here my loves 😎 i can't believe there's only one fic left of this event!! i hope you're all ready and if not well good luck then 😏

the library

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟

dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷

Restraint. That’s the word for Jeongin. Like he’s holding something back, and you’ve spent every single day trying to figure out what.

He’s sitting beside you now, close enough that his thigh presses against your knee, and he’s laughing at something—a story you were telling about your coworker and the copier, you think, though you’ve lost the thread entirely because his dimples are doing that thing. The deep, devastating creases in his cheeks that appear, especially when he’s genuinely amused. They make him look like he should be on a billboard for something wholesome. Milk, maybe. Or adoption.

He finally realizes you’ve been staring at him and his cheeks flush. Actually flush, a bloom of pink across the bridge of his nose that spreads to his ears.  “Babe,” he whines, covering his face.

This isn’t the first time he’s caught you doing it. “What? Why can’t I just look at you?”

“Because.” He ducks his head, and when he looks up at you through his lashes, there’s something flickering beneath the shyness. Something hungry. “It makes me want to do things.”

The air in the room shifts. Your pulse ticks up a notch, a small, insistent thrum at the base of your throat. “What kind of things?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Jeongin leans in deliberately then. His lips brush yours, soft at first, questioning. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers cool against the heated skin of your neck, and he tilts your head just slightly, just enough to change the angle, and—

Oh.

The second kiss isn’t soft.

His mouth opens against yours, tongue sweeping across the seam of your lips, and when you gasp, he swallows the sound. His other hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you closer or anchoring himself—you can’t tell which. The playlist fades into static. The room narrows to the press of his body, the heat of his mouth, the quiet, desperate sound he makes when your fingers slide into his hair and tug.

His hands move. One still cradles your jaw like you’re, the other slides from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you against the solid wall of his chest. He’s warm through his t-shirt, and beneath the fabric, you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he’s holding himself in check.

Still holding back.

You break the kiss. His lips chase yours for a half-second before he catches himself, and the dazed look in his eyes—glassy, unfocused—sends a bolt of heat straight to your core. “Jeongin.”

“Yeah?” His voice is wrecked.

“I want to—” You pause. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your temples. “Can I—”

He waits. Patient. Those soft eyes searching your face, and God, the trust in them. The absolute certainty that you’re not going to hurt him, and you want to live up to that. You want to deserve it.

You slide off the couch. Your knees hit the rug and you settle between his legs. Jeongin stares down at you, lips parted, breath coming faster now.

“Oh,” he says, almost a whisper.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. Very—yes.” He swallows hard. “Just…are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about this.”

The confession lands. His eyes darken, pupils swallowing the brown of his irises, and his hands curl into loose fists on his thighs like he’s physically restraining himself from grabbing you. “You should’ve said something.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You reach for the button of his jeans. It’s a simple motion. Thumb, forefinger, the slight resistance of denim, the soft click of metal slipping through fabric. But Jeongin’s whole body goes taut above you. His stomach tenses beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. His hips shift, an involuntary little movement that makes you smile.

You drag the zipper down.

“Lift up,” you murmur, and he obeys immediately, raising his hips just enough for you to work the jeans down his thighs. Boxers beneath—plain black cotton, nothing fancy, and you’re absurdly charmed by that. Of course he’s practical and modest even down to his choice in undergarments.

You’re still smiling when you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull.

The smile dies on your face.

For a long, stretched-out moment, you forget how to breathe.

Jeongin’s cock springs free, already half-hard, already impressive, and your brain—the part that’s supposed to form coherent thoughts—just stops. It’s not just big. Big is a word for things that are slightly above average, for the difference between medium and large at a coffee shop. This is the kind of size that makes your jaw ache in sympathetic anticipation, that makes you recalculate angles and depths and the structural limits of the human throat.

It’s also pretty. Ridiculously, almost offensively pretty.

The shaft is a pale, blushing pink—smooth and unblemished, rising from a neatly trimmed thatch of dark hair. The head is flushed a deeper rose, glistening slightly at the tip. His balls are drawn up tight beneath, smooth and symmetrical, and the whole picture is so aesthetically pleasing that you have the absurd urge to take a photograph.

“Y/N,” he says, and his voice is small. Almost shy. “Is it…?”

“Jeongin.”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re huge, right?”

His cheeks go crimson. The color spreads down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, and he rubs the back of his neck with one hand in that nervous gesture you’ve come to recognize. “I mean. Yeah. I’ve, uh. I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

“Other partners.” He says it like an apology. “A few of them. They, you know…mentioned it.”

“Mentioned it.” You’re still staring. You can’t stop staring. “They just mentioned that you’re carrying around lethal weaponry in your pants?”

A surprised laugh escapes him, and his cock bobs with the movement. “It’s not lethal.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

You finally touch him. Your fingers close around the shaft—or try to. They don’t meet. Your thumb and middle finger circle him, and there’s still a gap, a visible space where your fingertips should touch but don’t. The skin is velvet-soft and furnace-hot, and his pulse beats against your palm, rapid and unsteady.

Jeongin makes a sound. It’s barely audible, a punched-out exhale that he tries to swallow, but it escapes anyway. His hips twitch. His hands, still fisted on his thighs, tighten until his knuckles go white.

“You can—” He clears his throat. “You can tell me if it’s too much. We don’t have to—”

“Innie.”

“Yeah?”

“I want this.” You look up at him, and you let him see it—the hunger, the want, the sheer overwhelming desire that’s been building and is now threatening to consume you whole. “I want you. All of you. Okay?”

He gulps. The shyness is still there, the modesty, but beneath it is something raw and desperate and achingly sincere. “Okay.”

You lower your mouth to him. The first touch is just lips—a soft kiss pressed to the flushed head, tasting salt and skin and musk. Jeongin’s whole body shudders, a full-body tremor that makes the couch creak beneath him.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes.”

You lick a slow stripe up the underside from base to tip. His skin is impossibly smooth, heated silk against your tongue, and when you reach the crown, you circle the ridge with the tip of your tongue. The bead of moisture gathered there spreads across your taste buds—bitter, salty, him.

His hand comes up. His fingers thread into your hair. Gentle. So gentle it makes your chest ache. He doesn’t push or pull or guide—just rests his hand there, thumb stroking the shell of your ear.

You open your mouth wider. The head of his cock slides past your lips, and your jaw immediately protests. The stretch is significant, more significant than you anticipated. Despite your visual assessment, you have to consciously relax your throat, breathe through your nose, and take him slowly. Inch by inch.

“God.” The word comes out strangled. “Your mouth is so—”

You take more. Your tongue flattens against the underside, tracing the thick vein that runs along the shaft. He’s heavy on your tongue, solid and hot, and the weight of him is grounding in a way you didn’t expect. Your hand wraps around the base where your mouth can’t reach, and you start a slow rhythm—mouth and hand moving together, learning the shape of him.

Jeongin makes another sound. Higher this time. Almost a whimper. “You feel incredible,” he breathes. “So good. So—ah—”

You hollow your cheeks and pull back, letting him slip almost free before sinking down again, deeper this time. Your eyes water, your throat constricts, and you fight the gag reflex, breathing through it, relaxing into it.

You hum around him. The vibration makes his hips jerk. A real, uncontrolled thrust that drives him fractionally deeper, and he gasps out an apology immediately. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You pull off him with a wet pop. “Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop apologizing.”

His mouth opens. Closes. His dimples are gone—swallowed by the tension in his jaw—and his eyes are so dark now, nearly black, fixed on your lips with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“I want you to enjoy this,” you say, stroking him slowly with your hand. The glide is slick now, your saliva coating him, and the friction makes him groan. “I want you to tell me what feels good. Can you do that?”

He nods. “I can do that.”

“Good.” You lower your mouth again. “Then let me hear you.”

This time when you take him in, he doesn’t hold back.

A broken moan spills from his lips as you sink down, taking more than before, challenging your own limits. His hand in your hair tightens. You set a pace—slow, deep, deliberate—and his sounds pour out unfiltered.

“Yes, like that, oh—your tongue, the way you’re—”

His hips rise to meet you, a shallow thrust that he can’t seem to suppress. His other hand grabs the couch cushion, knuckles straining.

“Pretty,” you gasp, pulling back to catch your breath. “You’re so—God, Jeongin, your cock is gorgeous.”

His face flushes impossibly darker. 

You press a kiss to the tip. Then another. Then you trace the ridge with your tongue, feather-light, just to hear the noise he makes. “Prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Did you know that? Did your other partners tell you that?”

“I—some of them, maybe, I don’t—”

“They should have.”

You take him deep again. Your throat protests, but you push through, relaxing the muscles, letting your jaw go slack. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, streaking down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away.

Jeongin’s head falls back against the couch. His throat is a long, elegant line, his pulse visibly hammering in the hollow, and the sounds coming out of him now are constant—a stream of broken syllables and half-formed words that dissolve into moans.

“So deep—fuck, you’re taking me so—how are you—that’s—”

His hips buck. You gag, a genuine, throat-deep gag that makes him try to pull back, but you grip his thigh with your free hand and hold steady. You want this. You want the ache, the fullness, the way your body has to work to accommodate him. 

“Baby,” he gasps out, ragged and desperate. “Sweetheart, I’m—if you keep doing that, I’m going to—”

You double down. Your hand works the base of his shaft in time with your mouth, twisting slightly on the upstroke the way you’ve learned men like. Your tongue flattens against the underside and your cheeks hollow. Every technique you possess is suddenly focused on this one goal: making Yang Jeongin lose his goddamn mind.

It’s working.

“Close,” he gasps. “I’m—I’m so close, you need to—if you don’t want—”

You don’t stop. You look up at him through wet lashes and let him see, let him read the answer in your eyes.

He groans. “Yeah? You want my cum?”

You hum affirmative. The vibration makes him curse—a sharp, breathless expletive that you’ve never heard from his sweet mouth before.

“Okay. Okay. I’m—I’m going to—fuck, I’m—”

His thighs tense beneath your palm. His stomach muscles go rigid, visible through his shirt. His cock pulses against your tongue, and then he’s coming with a hoarse cry that sounds like your name, broken in half, shattered on the way out.

“Y/N—fuck! Oh my God, baby. Holy fuck—”

Hot. Bitter. A flood of salt across your taste buds. You swallow reflexively, over and over, as his hips jerk and his fingers clench in your hair and he says your name again—quieter this time.

When the pulses finally stop, you release him gently, soft cock resting on his heaving abdomen. His breathing is heavy and his eyes are closed. So pretty.

You rest your cheek against his thigh and wait.

“Come here.” His voice is wrecked. “Please. Come up here.”

You climb back onto the couch. Your knees ache—you’ll feel that tomorrow—but right now all you can focus on is the way Jeongin reaches for you, pulls you into his lap and kisses you.

It’s a different kiss than before. Messier. He can probably taste himself on your tongue, and the thought makes heat pool low in your belly.

“That was—” He breaks the kiss, presses his forehead to yours. His eyes are still glassy, but now there’s wonder. Or awe. “You’re incredible. Do you know that? Absolutely incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

His dimples reappear. Faint, but there. “Give me a minute. A few minutes. And then—”

“And then?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender it makes your breath catch. “And then I want to return the favor.” His hand slides down. It settles on your thigh and squeezes. “I’ve been thinking about this too,” he says quietly. “All the things I wanted to do to you.”

Oh.

“Show me.”

TAGLIST—