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When you first met Heeseung, it was for your debate program in University. He was the only one who could match you with for wit, point for point, all within the allotted time and with brevity and well spoken analysis that you were in awe of. Surprisingly the two of you did not become rivals, the way high school you would've fantasized, having read way too much enemies to lovers fanfiction. No, instead you two actually became very good friends, sticking together even after graduation. 

Heeseung was practically perfect in every way except with one minute (major) flaw: his other best friend.

You and Park Sunghoon never really saw eye-to-eye; the moment you crossed paths with his childhood best friend, his original debate partner back in high school, you knew you had entered a battlefield.

It was a never ending fight between the two of you, always vying for Heesung's affections. Sunghoon had always accused you of being a leech, just another sycophant who would reveal her true colors and nefarious intentions towards his best friend. Apparently they had known each other since childhood, and he had seen a million girls like you come and go. You, on the other hand, found Sunghoon to be an entitled, pompous brat. He was so used to Heeseung being his and his alone that you had trouble picturing him sharing. That's probably why girls didn't last long around Heeseung. 

It didn't help that Heeseung was constantly trying to facilitate things between the two of you, arranging for the three of you to hang out despite both parties' protest.

"If you guys only got to know each other better, I'm sure you'd get along!"

"Won't you guys try, for me? C'mon, I've always pictured what things would be like, the three of us."

"You're both my best friends. Why would anyone choose just one?"

More times than you can count you were invited to hang out with Heeseung and Sunghoon would already be there. You tried to get along with the man, really, but it was nearly impossible. He was so possessive of Hee, constantly glaring at the two of you when Heeseung got affectionate with you. He always had some snide comment to make about it afterwards with you, like just seeing you two so close made him want to throw up. You were positively sure at this point that the younger was in love with his best friend, but it was a working theory.

Regardless, anything you showed up to with Heeseung, you'd have to be ok with Sunghoon tagging along as well. Tonight's party was no exception, though you had lost track of the duo when you went to find a drink to drown your sorrows, and then had to do it again after finding an active sorrow to drink over.

You stumbled up the stairs with a heavy heart, downing most of your cup to replace one bitter taste in your mouth with another. To your surprise you see your best friend waiting in the hallway, no Sunghoon in sight, looking just as drunk as you based on his slight swaying.

You walked up to him, grabbing onto his arm for support, needing the comfort of his body heat against yours right now. 

"Hey, where've ya been? I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes I feel," you pouted, taking another sip of the fruity concoction in your cup.

"Hey, sorry! Hoon broke the seal, and I didn't want to lose more than one person in a single night," Heeseung chuckled, pulling you in closer to his side. "How're you enjoying the party?"

You shrugged, unsure if you wanted to mention the sight downstairs you were currently running from. "It's fine, I guess."

"Yeah, I was thinking about the three of us ditching to go to that party on Brunswick, but none of us seem quite capable of driving just yet."

That put a damper on your hopes of Heeseung whisking you away from this place.

"I just remembered, I forgot to show you earlier today the new watch I got from Etsy!" Heeseung's glazed eyes lit up. "Look, it's called a serpent's watch." 

Heeseung flashed the fancy accessory on his wrist, the nontraditional wristband being coils of metal that wrapped down his wrist, the clock shaped closer to an oval or diamond than a circle. It really was shaped liked a serpent.

You absentmindedly nodded, fingers brushing over the way the watch wrapped around Heeseung's wrist. Your mind kept drifting, however, and without sobriety to keep your mind where it should be, tears were soon falling from your eyes.

Hee noticed immediately.

"Hey hey, what's wrong?" Heeseung cupped your face in his hands, thumbs swiping under your eyes to wipe away at the tears. "It's a party, you should be happy-drunk, not sad-drunk."

Your lip trembled as you melted into Heeseung's touch. "It's Jake," you explained, a pout on your lips as you said the name. "Just saw him downstairs with some girl. I just wasn't expecting it to hit so hard, y'know?"

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry." Heeseung wasn't the biggest fan of your ex, secretly (not so secretly) elated when the two of you broke up. You didn't share the same sentiments, very clearly heartbroken when Jake dumped you to have sex with other girls. Go figure. "It's natural to be upset."

"I just—" You sucked in a breath. "I want to be over it already, y'know? I'm so sick of being pathetic and still crying about it."

"It was only two months ago. I don't blame you."

"You should. You should be sick of me at this point, crying to you about this. God knows Sunghoon is." You blinked away the tears, slowly coming back down to Earth as you grounded yourself further against Heeseung. "I'm sick of me."

"I could never be sick of you, trust me. Jake doesn't know what he's missing out on. Any sane man would be on his knees for you if you so much as asked."

That earned a laugh out of you, effectively brightening your spirit. You sniffled, resting your forehead against Heeseung's shoulder, sighing as you composed yourself. "Thanks, Hee. I appreciate it. God, why can't more guys be like you? There's too many assholes like Jake and Sunghoon around."

Heeseung chuckled at that. "Hey, Hoon's not that bad."

"He is to me."

"You guys just need to work on getting closer, that's all. Find some shared interest or hobby or something. Anything you might like to do together."

You rolled your eyes a bit. "I don't think there's anything like that that doesn't involve violence."

"He likes you more than you think. He just doesn't realize it yet," Heeseung assured.

You heard a knock from inside the bathroom, Sunghoon's voice calling out. "Heeseung?"

"Speak of the devil," Heeseung grinned. He turned toward the door. "What is it?"

"Can you come in here real quick?"

Both you and Heeseung exchanged puzzled glances.

"Are you guys about to get up to some gay shit?" You whispered quietly. "I mean, it's hot, I guess. Am I supposed to keep watch?"

"Dunno yet. Let me see what he needs," Heeseung said, not even bothering to deny the homosexual allegations as he stepped inside the bathroom. Sunghoon was turned away from Heeseung, looking down and fidgeting with something. "Everything ok man?"

"Yes— I mean no— I mean... shit." Sunghoon turned around, letting Heeseung see his situation. Unfortunately for him, the zipper of his pants had gotten stuck onto his boxers and was refusing to budge. "It's stuck," Sunghoon stated the obvious. "I've been trying to get it loose for like, five minutes now."

"Whoo boy, let's see what we're dealing with." Sunghoon wasn't used to having Heeseung's hands so close to his genitalia, but he supposed it was a testimony to how close they were.

Sunghoon leaned against the sink, ears tinged pink with embarrassment as Heeseung yanked at the zipper with reasonable force.

"Hey, watch it man! I don't need you zipping up my balls, too," Sunghoon freaked.

"Relax, it's not— Jesus Christ, this thing really isn't budging," Heeseung hissed, hands starting to become sweaty with his efforts.

Sunghoon's eyes widened. He buried his face in his hands, feeling how hot his cheeks were already getting "Fuck. Fuck, man, what am I gonna do? I can't go out there with my fly like this!"

"I'd be more worried about the fact you spent, like, 500 bucks on these pants." If Heeseung used too much force on this he was at risk of breaking it beyond repair, and he really couldn't afford repairs for Prada the way Sunghoon could.

"Dude, I literally want to die right now." Sunghoon prayed everybody would be drunker than he was, at least enough where he could make a speedy exit without anyone noticing his problem.

"Wait!" Heeseung's head shot up, as though a brilliant idea came to him. "I know someone who's great with zippers!"

Sunghoon's thick brows furrowed, and all he could think about was lightning somehow shooting into the house and striking him down mercifully. "What? Wait—"

"Y/N! Get in here, we need your help!" Heeseung swung open the bathroom door, dragging you inside without preamble or Sunghoon's approval.

You grumbled, eyes narrowed with confusion. "Do I need to aim for you guys or...?"

"No! Hoon's got a bit of a..." Heeseung's eyes flicked down towards his friend's crotch. "...situation."

Your eyebrows jumped this time. "He has a boner?"

"No!" Now it was Sunghoon's turn to interject. He felt like he could die of embarrassment then and there, having to humiliate himself in front of you of all people. "My zipper is stuck."

"Aw, guess that Prada label doesn't guarantee quality after all, does it?" You jutted your lip out in a fake pout, taking your opportunity to jab at him. You were still suffering from the sting of seeing your ex, and Sunghoon was the best target you could ask for tonight. This was just too perfect.

"Hey, be nice," Heeseung scolded. "Will you help?"

"Maybe..." You tapped your cup against your chin, pondering. "If he begs."

"What?!" Sunghoon was shocked by your sheer audacity.

You shrugged, fighting (and failing) to keep the corner of your mouth from quirking up into a smirk. "If you want me to help, you have to say please. It's only polite."

"Oh my god, you're such a bitch—"

"That's not very nice."

"Nice? I can—"

"Guys, stop!" Heeseung interrupted the both of your squabbling, not wanting to be cramped in a bathroom with the two of you shouting in his ear. "Just say please, Hoon."

Sunghoon's eyes practically bulged out of his sockets when he heard Heeseung taking your side. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, triumphant. 

He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw as he muttered the words. "Will you please help me with my zipper? Please?"

You looked so cheeky and smug, putting your cup down on the sink. Sunghoon suddenly had the urge to bite you. "Well, since you sound so pathetic."

You reached for the zipper, and Sunghoon hissed to resist the urge of slapping your hands away out of annoyance. "I'm gonna get you back for this, I swear..."

"That's not how you say thank you to a favor, Hoon," you teased, your fingers twiddling with the zipper as you tried to yank it up.

"We both know you aren't doing this as a favor." Fuck, you were so close to him. He could smell both the perfume you wore and the alcohol you drank. Now he had to worry about the friction your jerky little tugs were causing. 

"Aw, look at you guys getting along," Heeseung smiled, reaching up to pat your head. "I told ya, you just needed to bond a little."

"We are not bonding— ow!" You tried to turn your head to face him, but something caught in your hair. You tried to move again, only realizing that Heeseung's fancy watch was now tangled against you.

"Sorry!" Heeseung apologized, trying to move his hand back but tugging your head along with it. "Oh, sorry again!"

"Stop moving!" You reached one hand back to reach for his wrist, trying to pull a few strands away to get loose.

"Can you get lower? It's hard for me to untangle myself at this angle."

"Fuck!" The hand still on Sunghoon's zipper yanked on it in frustration, the tug doing nothing to free it.

"My hand's getting tired up here, it'll be quicker!" Heeseung whined petulantly.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly sank onto your knees, the cold tile biting against your skin. You were now staring up at Sunghoon, who found the view a lot hotter than he cared to admit.

But he did say he was going to get back at you.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Look at you. Can't believe you're on your knees in a bathroom for me."

You scowled. "It's not for you."

"Right. You're on a dirty bathroom floor for me and Heeseung." Sunghoon couldn't help but snicker at your glare.

You reached up for his zipper with both hands, tugging it back down in another attempt, your other hand gripping onto fabric to pull it out. "You really shouldn't piss off the one with a zipper to your balls."

"That's if you can do your job correctly."

"Oh, you can fuck right off— Oh fuck, Hee!" Your head jerked back again slightly, and your eyes scrunched shut in slight pain.

"Sorry!" Heeseung apologized again, patting your head with the unadorned hand. "It's almost out, just a little longer."

"Fuck!" You gripped onto Sunghoon's pants tighter, pulling him closer to you as you jerked the zipper more, feeling some leeway.

Sunghoon gripped onto the sink counter, trying not to fall against you or get hard. The sound of your little whine made the latter nearly impossible. It was difficult too with the sight of you frustrated and on your knees between the two of them, though, tiny hands scrambling with his zipper, and his mind was going to places they really shouldn't.

Your hand was moving the zipper up and down, desperately trying to get it loose, the tiny bit of fabric bunched beneath slowly giving way. You fisted at the fabric next to it, trying to pull it in the opposite direction so it would give.

"Fuck, I think I'm close," you muttered quietly to yourself, not even realizing how you sounded.

Fuck. Fuck Sunghoon needed to get his zipper fixed now because any second now he was going to get obviously hard, and there'd be absolutely no way of hiding it from you or Heeseung.

"I-I think I might—"

"Shut up, I'm almost there!" Of course you'd be fucking stubborn when you put your mind to something.

"Me too!" His best friend innocently commented, eyes glued on his watch. Heeseung seemed oblivious to Sunghoon's panic, just as focused as you when it came to the task at hand.

You tugged one more time, the slide finally becoming easier and the zipper making its way successfully to the very bottom, no fabric stuck. "Finally!"

Heeseung managed to free his watch with your hair still intact, though it was a mess from the tangles and pulling from prior. "Yes!" He rolled his wrist with satisfaction, his other, unadorned hand now combing through your mess of hair in attempt to smoothe it. "See, that wasn't too bad."

Sunghoon felt entirely too suffocated, and for the first time in his life he was desperately wanting a woman off her knees. "For you," he huffed, feeling hotter by the minute.

It was just then that the bathroom door, which you neglected to lock behind you, swung open.

The three of you must've been a sight: your hands up near Sunghoon's crotch while you were on your knees, Sunghoon's pants unzipped, your hair a tangled mess and makeup slightly smudged from crying. Sunghoon and Heeseung were also incriminating, both sweating a little from their frustration, breathing heavy from their intense focus on very different missions. 

Heeseung looked like a deer in headlights as he turned back toward the people in the doorway, the appearance of the situation seemingly dawning on him.

He turned around when he felt the acrylic nail touch his back, and there you stood, staring at him in utter awe. He could practically see the hearts in your eyes when he spoke.

“Hello?”

You were so far gone, you didn’t even compute that he was talking to you until he waved his hand in your face. All you could do was apologize and bustle out of the shop, forgetting that you were craving a smoothie.

From there, you knew there was no going back. You didn’t even know his name, but you knew you wanted to be in his sweatpants like yesterday. 

After that day, you came to the gym regularly, and not just for the smoothies. You put on short shorts and a sports bra, and saddled yourself up on the nearest workout machine near McMuscles, seeing as you had yet to learn his name.

For four weeks, you did this. Some days were failures. Most weren't. You didn’t know his schedule, so you went at the same time. Every. Single. Day. After the first two weeks, you had his schedule down. You knew when he was there. You adjusted your workouts to his.

The problem is…you hated the gym. You had no idea what the hell you were doing. You sweated out your hair every day. You’ve had to get your nails fixed twice so far. Once, because you dropped a weight and broke your nail, another time, because the chemicals in the equipment cleaner stained your gel polish. Worst of all, you were getting no closer to getting in his pants. You planned on giving up once your month-long free trial was up, but by a stroke of luck, you caught his eye when you weren’t lifting the weights properly.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Huh?” This was the first time you were hearing his voice in what felt like forever.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you, but you’re doing it wrong,” he says, abandoning his stuff near the other weights and coming up behind you. He offers a kind smile before hesitantly placing his hand on your lower back, unsure if he should touch you, but also trying to offer some guidance. You take in a sharp breath when he plants his hand down with more pressure to adjust your posture.

“You’re gonna hurt your back and possibly your knees like that,” he says, looking at you through the mirror, assessing the difference in how you were pulling the bar up before compared to now.

You’re trying to keep your wits about you, but his hand never leaves your lower back. He keeps it there as you rep the bar. A warmth is pooling in your gut the longer it stays there, and you know it’s not your core muscles burning.

“That’s good. Better?” Once you drop the bar and turn around to face him, his hand falls away from your back, a sliver of warmth dissipating with his separation.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks…”

“Sunghoon,” he offers with an outstretched hand, which you are eager to grab. Damn, his calluses are no joke. “I’ve seen you around the last few weeks. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but I didn’t wanna be one of those douchebags who insert themselves in other people’s business.”

His smile shows off a glimmer of pointy canines that you are weirdly interested in having rip into you. He could rip into you as well if he wanted. Throw you over a weight bench and fuck you from behind. He surely could. His body indicated he had the strength for it. You wonder what else he had the strength for.

“No, you’re fine.” It takes effort to pull your eyes away from his arms. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’ve been sort of just going with whatever I see online.”

Sunghoon nods, planting his hands on his hips and inadvertently outlining the ratio between his upper body and his waist. Holy fuck was this man a walking statue.

“I could help you out if you’d like. I think we come around a similar time, so I should be able to give you some pointers until you get the hang of it.”

And give you some pointers, he did. Quick to renew your membership after that day, you learned that Sunghoon is quite the hands-on teacher.

If you were working legs, he would run his hands over your thighs, poking and prodding the exact muscles you were working. He would guide you if he saw your form slipping. If he caught you trying to cut yourself short, he would push you harder. He would press you down into your stretches. He would push your head if you were holding it in a way that would strain you. It was so much that you could never end a session without slipping away in the bathrooms for ten minutes to “refresh yourself” before meeting with him for a smoothie.

You got to sit across from him in the small refreshment spot while he praised you on your improvement. You were willing to sacrifice having perfect hair by the end of the gym session if it meant he would be gripping on your thigh and applauding you for doing a good job. You've got to see him with wet, tousled hair in muscle tees and sweatpants. Sweatpants that made his print so prominent, it should be a crime for him to walk around like that. You’ve caught a few moms and younger girls checking him out when he assists you, but they never tried anything. Their jealousy only ever burned in their eyes while he pressed his dick up against your ass, showing you where you were going wrong and how to correct yourself.

If you were anywhere else, you would have had his dick in your mouth right now. But this is a public gym, and he hasn’t presented any indicators that he wants anything to do with you outside of working out. That was until today, when you barely made it halfway through your workout before blurting out what you had been keeping to yourself for almost two months now.

He was doing his set while you rested. You watched him hip thrust heavy weights, grunting every time he pushed up. Sweat was beading down his forehead, and his teeth were dug deep into his lip. He grunted and forced his hips up on the last few reps when you slipped up and said what was embedded deep in your subconscious.

“Fuck me next.” You half moaned out through an exhale.

Realizing you actually said that, your eyes shot to Sunghoon, who was already looking at you.

“What?” Sunghoon huffs with a smile before racking the set.

Wide-eyed and fumbling for a response, you blink at him. “Huh?”

“You said something.” He takes a sip from his water bottle, all while watching you with a little too much heat in his gaze.

“Uh… I was just saying, ‘Fuck, me next.’ I wanted to go after you.” You come up with that on the fly, but he doesn’t look all that convinced. If anything, he’s extremely amused.

Licking his lips, Sunghoon intrudes into what was a comfortable distance for gym buddies. “I don’t think you can lift that.”

With heated cheeks, you still try to defend yourself. “I’m sure I could try.”

He shakes his head and pushes back his damp hair. “No, you’ll hurt yourself. We can find something else for you to do.”

The look in his eyes should have told you what he meant. You hadn’t expected for that “something else” to take place in the back of his car. There was no making it to his house. You were halfway through a session with still ample energy to burn off. If either of you waited any longer, you would’ve likely combusted.

“Keep going. Just like that.” He grunts, thrusting up while you ride him.

“Don’t stop,” you respond, forcing your lower half flush with his.

His hips are more powerful than you might have guessed. Each thrust slams up into you, sending his dick deep enough to nudge your cervix. You moan and drop your weight down on him. Sunghoon’s in the same boat as you. He’s got your wet pussy dripping around him, mixing with the sweat that was already coating your body.

“I think this might be one of the first exercises you’re a natural at,” he smiles, gripping your hips.

He pushes up with enough force that it would send you flying off his lap if your nails weren’t currently embedded in his shoulders. You drag them down his skin and across his pecs, watching the pale skin trail red under your touch. It’s so hot watching his face contort, watching his muscles ripple as he clenches his core to drive his hips up. His biceps are practically fucking screaming with how tight he’s gripping your hips.

“Gonna come,” you moan, bouncing more vigorously. You hop off before you can finish rolling your hips forward against his stomach. You drag your pussy along the contours of his abs, moaning deeply when the friction does wonders for your clit.

“Fuck,” he curses. This was hotter than he expected.

Sunghoon’s been watching you eye-fuck him for weeks, but never wanted to give you the time, like any other woman. They would all quit eventually when they realized he wasn’t the type of guy to fuck anything in yoga pants and a tiny bra. But you were so fucking determined, he couldn’t ignore you even if he wanted to. He saw the wet spots left from your crotch when you got off the seats. He saw your eyes glazing over whenever he kept his hands on you for too long. He saw it and could only ignore it for so long before it led to this.

You reached back and stroked his dick while gliding your pussy back and forth. Your slick coated his skin. His abs shone in the evening glow passing through the windows. He couldn’t stop himself from coming while watching your head loll back. You dragged your pussy faster as he came across your backside.

Sunghoon cursed and gripped your ass, pushing you across his abs until your sounds of pleasure finally ceased, and even then, you were looking down at him with what can only be described as insatiable hunger.

Biting your lip, you climb off his lap and fit yourself between his legs. He’s spent, but you have yet to taste him the way you have dreamed about so many times.

You wrap your hand around his slick shaft and stroke him while taking the top half into your mouth. Sensitive, he curses upon initial contact. You spit and suck around his dick, taking him into your mouth, enjoying the sweaty aroma that perfumes his pubic area. You moan and swallow him down deeper, chasing to taste his cum on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he wheezes with clenched fists. He’s controlling the urge to fuck into your mouth but also pull away. He doesn’t know which to give in to more, but you don’t give him much of a choice when you bury your face into his hips and salivate around him, gorging yourself on the taste of him mixed with your arousal. It was like a drug, fueling your dripping pussy and driving you over the edge with just a few swift rolls of your clit.

You pull up, moaning like a cheap slut with your hand between your legs. Once you separate, you leave a generous amount of spit on his dick and stroke him quickly. He watches the pornographic display before him and doesn’t last a minute more.

He spills a second set of ropes that you are quick to catch by wrapping your lips around his head. You suck him dry until he’s physically pushing you away, no longer able to handle the power of your skilled mouth.

He turned around when he felt the acrylic nail touch his back, and there you stood, staring at him in utter awe. He could practically see the hearts in your eyes when he spoke.

“Hello?”

You were so far gone, you didn’t even compute that he was talking to you until he waved his hand in your face. All you could do was apologize and bustle out of the shop, forgetting that you were craving a smoothie.

From there, you knew there was no going back. You didn’t even know his name, but you knew you wanted to be in his sweatpants like yesterday. 

After that day, you came to the gym regularly, and not just for the smoothies. You put on short shorts and a sports bra, and saddled yourself up on the nearest workout machine near McMuscles, seeing as you had yet to learn his name.

For four weeks, you did this. Some days were failures. Most weren't. You didn’t know his schedule, so you went at the same time. Every. Single. Day. After the first two weeks, you had his schedule down. You knew when he was there. You adjusted your workouts to his.

The problem is…you hated the gym. You had no idea what the hell you were doing. You sweated out your hair every day. You’ve had to get your nails fixed twice so far. Once, because you dropped a weight and broke your nail, another time, because the chemicals in the equipment cleaner stained your gel polish. Worst of all, you were getting no closer to getting in his pants. You planned on giving up once your month-long free trial was up, but by a stroke of luck, you caught his eye when you weren’t lifting the weights properly.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Huh?” This was the first time you were hearing his voice in what felt like forever.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you, but you’re doing it wrong,” he says, abandoning his stuff near the other weights and coming up behind you. He offers a kind smile before hesitantly placing his hand on your lower back, unsure if he should touch you, but also trying to offer some guidance. You take in a sharp breath when he plants his hand down with more pressure to adjust your posture.

“You’re gonna hurt your back and possibly your knees like that,” he says, looking at you through the mirror, assessing the difference in how you were pulling the bar up before compared to now.

You’re trying to keep your wits about you, but his hand never leaves your lower back. He keeps it there as you rep the bar. A warmth is pooling in your gut the longer it stays there, and you know it’s not your core muscles burning.

“That’s good. Better?” Once you drop the bar and turn around to face him, his hand falls away from your back, a sliver of warmth dissipating with his separation.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks…”

“Sunghoon,” he offers with an outstretched hand, which you are eager to grab. Damn, his calluses are no joke. “I’ve seen you around the last few weeks. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but I didn’t wanna be one of those douchebags who insert themselves in other people’s business.”

His smile shows off a glimmer of pointy canines that you are weirdly interested in having rip into you. He could rip into you as well if he wanted. Throw you over a weight bench and fuck you from behind. He surely could. His body indicated he had the strength for it. You wonder what else he had the strength for.

“No, you’re fine.” It takes effort to pull your eyes away from his arms. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’ve been sort of just going with whatever I see online.”

Sunghoon nods, planting his hands on his hips and inadvertently outlining the ratio between his upper body and his waist. Holy fuck was this man a walking statue.

“I could help you out if you’d like. I think we come around a similar time, so I should be able to give you some pointers until you get the hang of it.”

And give you some pointers, he did. Quick to renew your membership after that day, you learned that Sunghoon is quite the hands-on teacher.

If you were working legs, he would run his hands over your thighs, poking and prodding the exact muscles you were working. He would guide you if he saw your form slipping. If he caught you trying to cut yourself short, he would push you harder. He would press you down into your stretches. He would push your head if you were holding it in a way that would strain you. It was so much that you could never end a session without slipping away in the bathrooms for ten minutes to “refresh yourself” before meeting with him for a smoothie.

You got to sit across from him in the small refreshment spot while he praised you on your improvement. You were willing to sacrifice having perfect hair by the end of the gym session if it meant he would be gripping on your thigh and applauding you for doing a good job. You've got to see him with wet, tousled hair in muscle tees and sweatpants. Sweatpants that made his print so prominent, it should be a crime for him to walk around like that. You’ve caught a few moms and younger girls checking him out when he assists you, but they never tried anything. Their jealousy only ever burned in their eyes while he pressed his dick up against your ass, showing you where you were going wrong and how to correct yourself.

If you were anywhere else, you would have had his dick in your mouth right now. But this is a public gym, and he hasn’t presented any indicators that he wants anything to do with you outside of working out. That was until today, when you barely made it halfway through your workout before blurting out what you had been keeping to yourself for almost two months now.

He was doing his set while you rested. You watched him hip thrust heavy weights, grunting every time he pushed up. Sweat was beading down his forehead, and his teeth were dug deep into his lip. He grunted and forced his hips up on the last few reps when you slipped up and said what was embedded deep in your subconscious.

“Fuck me next.” You half moaned out through an exhale.

Realizing you actually said that, your eyes shot to Sunghoon, who was already looking at you.

“What?” Sunghoon huffs with a smile before racking the set.

Wide-eyed and fumbling for a response, you blink at him. “Huh?”

“You said something.” He takes a sip from his water bottle, all while watching you with a little too much heat in his gaze.

“Uh… I was just saying, ‘Fuck, me next.’ I wanted to go after you.” You come up with that on the fly, but he doesn’t look all that convinced. If anything, he’s extremely amused.

Licking his lips, Sunghoon intrudes into what was a comfortable distance for gym buddies. “I don’t think you can lift that.”

With heated cheeks, you still try to defend yourself. “I’m sure I could try.”

He shakes his head and pushes back his damp hair. “No, you’ll hurt yourself. We can find something else for you to do.”

The look in his eyes should have told you what he meant. You hadn’t expected for that “something else” to take place in the back of his car. There was no making it to his house. You were halfway through a session with still ample energy to burn off. If either of you waited any longer, you would’ve likely combusted.

“Keep going. Just like that.” He grunts, thrusting up while you ride him.

“Don’t stop,” you respond, forcing your lower half flush with his.

His hips are more powerful than you might have guessed. Each thrust slams up into you, sending his dick deep enough to nudge your cervix. You moan and drop your weight down on him. Sunghoon’s in the same boat as you. He’s got your wet pussy dripping around him, mixing with the sweat that was already coating your body.

“I think this might be one of the first exercises you’re a natural at,” he smiles, gripping your hips.

He pushes up with enough force that it would send you flying off his lap if your nails weren’t currently embedded in his shoulders. You drag them down his skin and across his pecs, watching the pale skin trail red under your touch. It’s so hot watching his face contort, watching his muscles ripple as he clenches his core to drive his hips up. His biceps are practically fucking screaming with how tight he’s gripping your hips.

“Gonna come,” you moan, bouncing more vigorously. You hop off before you can finish rolling your hips forward against his stomach. You drag your pussy along the contours of his abs, moaning deeply when the friction does wonders for your clit.

“Fuck,” he curses. This was hotter than he expected.

Sunghoon’s been watching you eye-fuck him for weeks, but never wanted to give you the time, like any other woman. They would all quit eventually when they realized he wasn’t the type of guy to fuck anything in yoga pants and a tiny bra. But you were so fucking determined, he couldn’t ignore you even if he wanted to. He saw the wet spots left from your crotch when you got off the seats. He saw your eyes glazing over whenever he kept his hands on you for too long. He saw it and could only ignore it for so long before it led to this.

You reached back and stroked his dick while gliding your pussy back and forth. Your slick coated his skin. His abs shone in the evening glow passing through the windows. He couldn’t stop himself from coming while watching your head loll back. You dragged your pussy faster as he came across your backside.

Sunghoon cursed and gripped your ass, pushing you across his abs until your sounds of pleasure finally ceased, and even then, you were looking down at him with what can only be described as insatiable hunger.

Biting your lip, you climb off his lap and fit yourself between his legs. He’s spent, but you have yet to taste him the way you have dreamed about so many times.

You wrap your hand around his slick shaft and stroke him while taking the top half into your mouth. Sensitive, he curses upon initial contact. You spit and suck around his dick, taking him into your mouth, enjoying the sweaty aroma that perfumes his pubic area. You moan and swallow him down deeper, chasing to taste his cum on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he wheezes with clenched fists. He’s controlling the urge to fuck into your mouth but also pull away. He doesn’t know which to give in to more, but you don’t give him much of a choice when you bury your face into his hips and salivate around him, gorging yourself on the taste of him mixed with your arousal. It was like a drug, fueling your dripping pussy and driving you over the edge with just a few swift rolls of your clit.

You pull up, moaning like a cheap slut with your hand between your legs. Once you separate, you leave a generous amount of spit on his dick and stroke him quickly. He watches the pornographic display before him and doesn’t last a minute more.

He spills a second set of ropes that you are quick to catch by wrapping your lips around his head. You suck him dry until he’s physically pushing you away, no longer able to handle the power of your skilled mouth.

Intro: The Art of First Impressions (or lack thereof)

Park Sunghoon prides himself on being calm and composed. 

At least that’s what he tells himself, if you generously take out the part where he’s clumsy, socially catastrophic, and possesses the spatial awareness of a newborn puppy on ice. To the Uni at large, he’s—well, a concept? The campus god, as wattpad core as it sounds, he simply makes it seem that way. The guy who sits in the back of lecture halls looking bored and devastatingly handsome, presumably thinking about complex philosophical theories or his next modeling gig. 

In reality, he’s usually just thinking about whether it is going to rain or stressing over the fact that he held the door open for someone slightly too early, forcing them to do that awkward little run-walk, they were grateful regardless. It’s a fragile ecosystem, really. A reputation built entirely on the fact that he doesn’t talk enough for people to realize he’s actually a massive loser.

Only Sim Jaeyun knew the truth, along with Jay and Heeseung but yeah. Jake knew that Sunghoon isn’t brooding, rather, he’s buffering (as sad as that is). He knows that his oh so cold, mysterious silence is just Sunghoon’s brain playing elevator music (Wii party soundtrack preferably) while he tries to figure out how to function like a human being. 

But tonight, Sunghoon feels good, he feels capable somehow. He’s wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, Jay is making pasta and garlic bread, and the dorm smells like home in the best way possible. He has one job—bring the cups to the living room. Jake had been going on about inviting a chaotic duo he came across at a gaming cafe, who absolutely destroyed him during gaming but that eventually led to him aggressively adopting them into his life out of sheer respect for the carry later.

Sunghoon peels the plastic sleeve off the stack of red Solo cups with a satisfying crinkle, feeling that same surge of confidence, headphones playing his favourite EsDeeKid song (Palaces), letting him vibe, completely blocking out the chatter and laughter outside. He steps out of the kitchenette, the bass in his ears vibrating through his skull, making him feel momentarily infinite. He is the main character in a very low-stakes indie movie, he is cool, he is ready to perceive and be perceived, or so he thinks.

And then his eyes land on the center of the living room, and the soundtrack in his head comes to a screeching, violent-ish halt. He expects noise—he can see Jake’s mouth moving rapidly, gesturing with a ladle like a weapon—but he doesn’t expect you.

You are already there, claiming the space in a way that makes the cramped dorm room feel suddenly, terrifically bright. You’re standing near the beat-up sofa, one sneaker kicked off and overturned on the rug, looking comfortably disheveled in a way that art directors spend hours trying to replicate. You’re in the middle of laughing at something another one of your friends said, and he doesn’t know his name yet—a full-bodied, head-thrown-back kind of laugh that Sunghoon can’t hear over his music but can feel in his chest anyway.

You look effortless, like you didn’t even try, yet somehow succeeded more than anyone else in the room. You’re wearing a simple white tank top tucked into vintage denim that fits perfectly, with a leather jacket slipping casually off one shoulder. Your hair is loose, framing a face that is currently lit up with pure, unadulterated joy, and your eyes are crinkled shut with mirth.

Sunghoon’s brain, usually a well-oiled machine of anxiety and checklists, simply—stops. The music fades into static, and his calm and composed narrative dissolves. Oh, he thinks, his grip on the plastic stack tightening until it crunches. Wow.

He is so busy processing the sudden, violent realization that you might be the prettiest thing he has ever seen that he forgets a fundamental rule of Newtonian physics, Pauli Exclusion Principle: two solid objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

One of those objects is his broad, unsuspecting shoulder, the other is the wooden doorframe, and there’s a loud sound of collision—a bone-jarring impact that cuts right through his noise-canceling headphones and jolts his entire skeleton from the teeth down. The shockwave travels instantly to his hands, and the stack of red cups, liberated by the violence of the collision, explodes outward like plastic fireworks. They rain down onto the carpet in a chaotic, clattering cacophony that seems to echo for ten years.

Sunghoon freezes, vibrating with pain, staring blankly at a single red cup spinning sadly near his big toe. Slowly and painfully, he slides his headphones down to his neck. The room has gone dead silent.

The friend you were laughing with—the one with the cat-like eyes, stops mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open. Jake blinks slowly from the couch, profound confusion etched into his features. And you—you turn slowly, eyes wide, the laughter still lingering on your face as you take in the tragedy of the cups and the man currently trying to merge with the drywall.

“Holy shit,” the friend breaks the silence, abandoning his game to lean over the back of the couch, “you good, dude?”

Sunghoon stays very still, he is waiting for one of two things to happen—either for the floorboards to mercifully open up and swallow him whole, or for his body to spontaneously combust from the sheer, blinding force of his own humiliation. Neither happens, instead, the throbbing ache in his shoulder radiates down his arm, a dull, pulsing reminder that he is not, in fact, the protagonist of a cool indie film, he is a hazard.

Say something, his brain screams, make a joke, be charming. Recover for fucks sake. 

“I’m good,” Sunghoon manages, though his voice comes out about three octaves higher than usual. He clears his throat, “I’m—yeah. Totally fine. Just—slipped.”

“You slipped?” The friend—Jungwon, he remembers Jake calling him—asks, eyebrows shooting up, “into the doorframe? Vertically?”

“The carpet,” Sunghoon says, pointing an accusing finger at the perfectly standard rug, “it’s deceptive man.”

From the floor, a soft snort erupts, It’s you. You aren’t looking at him with pity, which is what he expects. You’re grinning—a wide, genuine expression that scrunches your nose—and before Sunghoon can process the movement, you’ve dropped to a crouch in front of him to help with the plastic disaster zone.

“Deceptive carpet,” you repeat, the corner of your mouth twitching as you reach for a cup that rolled near his ankle. 

Sunghoon’s ears are burning. He can feel the heat spreading down his neck, violent and undeniable. He drops to his knees out of a desperate need to avoid looking at Jake, who is currently burying his face in a cushion.

“I mean—,” Sunghoon mumbles, grabbing cups with frantic, uncoordinated hands, “It’s physics. Momentum, y’know?”

“Right, physics,” you drawl, and your voice is warm, teasing in a way that makes his stomach do a weird flip. You hand him a stack of cups you’ve gathered, “well, try not to fight any more inanimate objects tonight, okay? The dorm deposit is expensive.”

Your fingers brush against his knuckles as you pass the stack. His skin practically zaps where you touched him. Sunghoon flinches like he’s been electrocuted, nearly dropping the cups all over again. He looks up, terrified, and finds your face inches from his. Up close, you’re even intimidatingly prettier. You smell like vanilla and leather, and your eyes are dancing.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say easily, sitting back on your heels. 

Sunghoon stares at you. He knows he needs to respond. The social contract dictates that he provides his own name in return, it is a simple exchange. Input: Name. Output: Name. But his brain is currently running on a backup generator powered by a single, terrified hamster, and gosh the hamster is tired.

“Uh,” Sunghoon starts, his voice cracking a little, then he clears his throat, “Y/N.”

He nods, “Right, you’re Y/N.”

You look at him, waiting.

“I’m—” Sunghoon trails off, looking at your eyes, they are very pretty. He looks at your mouth, you’re smiling, “I’m—Y/N?” He stops, eyes widening. No, that is incorrect.

“I mean—” He waves a hand frantically, nearly knocking over the stack of cups he just rescued, “You’re Y/N! I’m Sunghoon. Yeah. Yeah—you’re Sunghoon and I’m Y/N—wait.”

He freezes. The sentence hangs in the air between you, defying all logic, space, and time. Did I just steal her identity? The silence that follows is loud. Behind him, he hears Jungwon choke on a laugh, disguising it as a cough. Jake just sighs, a long, mournful sound of a man who has given up on his roommate entirely, and Heeseung doesn’t bother hiding his jolly laugh. 

You blink at him. Then, slowly, that grin widens until it takes up your whole face.

“We’re swapping?” You ask, delighted, “okay—I’ve always wanted to be tall.”

Sunghoon feels his soul attempting to leave his body through his ears, he stands up, he stands up way too fast. His knees pop, adding a nice, crunchy soundtrack to his humiliation.

“I have to wash these,” he announces to the room at large, voice dangerously monotone.

“They were in a plastic sleeve,” Jake points out from the couch, finally turning around to witness the wreckage, “they’re clean bro.”

“Dust!” Sunghoon yells. He doesn’t look back, he can’t, “you can’t see it, but it’s there. It’s everywhere!”

He turns on his heel and flees. There is no other word for it, he practically speed-walks back into the safety of the kitchenette, shoulders hunched up to his ears, clutching the red cups to his chest, leaving the echo of his dignity—and his name—behind on the living room rug. He rounds the corner, out of sight, and immediately presses his forehead against the cool stainless steel of the fridge. He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon.

“He’s usually—uh—he’s usually not like this,” he hears Jake say in the other room, sounding apologetic.

“He’s funny,” you reply, and Sunghoon can hear the smile in your voice, “I like him.”

Sunghoon slides down the front of the fridge until he hits the floor, all while he buries his burning face in his hands. He is absolutely, irrevocably doomed.

PERM TAGLIST: @jaeminvore @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @deobitifull @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @woniebae @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @ma-riiii @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven @kristynaaah @tinycatharsis @filmnings @mwahvvis @mintchocoddeonut @s0shroe @onlyticket-home @meowieshibal@ikeukiss @in-somnias-world @tokkisluv @choicila @bambiihee @taesnumber1 @yenienha @angelhyuka @astelunar @heesmiles @enhypens-hoe @loverofmusic0027 @strawberrykkk1

taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added!

listen to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 whilst reading <3

Silence fills the room.

You let out a hollow laugh, your body tensing as you prepare to stand up and walk away. However, Sunghoon's soft, pleading eyes root you to the spot. “What is this, Sunghoon?” you ask, your voice unintentionally gentle, betraying the firmness you had intended.

Sunghoon reaches out, attempting to pull you back onto his lap, but you shake your head firmly, maintaining your distance. He lets out a weary sigh, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “Y/N, just hear me out, please,” he pleads.

“You have two minutes,” you respond, your tone flat, as you glance at the phone, the silence hanging heavily between you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours as he grabs the phone from the table, an electric charge of contact that sends a shiver up your spine. He turns off the phone decisively, silencing it before Arin’s call can go to voicemail. You watch, puzzled and slightly overwhelmed, as he places the phone facedown on the table, ensuring that nothing distracts him from this moment with you.

Arin’s relentless calls continue, the phone vibrating insistently on the tabletop, but Sunghoon doesn’t give it another glance. His eyes, dark and intense, are locked on yours, conveying a seriousness that commands your attention.

.… READ THE REST OF THE FINAL CHAPTER (INCLUDING THE EPILOGUE) HERE, YOU WILL FIND IT ON PATREON

will i upload it on tumblr? at this moment no, the final part is only a patreon exclusive. but if the interaction and engagement makes me satisfied on here then i may consider it but the chances are very slim of that happening. so please consider supporting my patreon if you wanna see more exclusive works and find out what happened with y/n and hoon! especially with arin becoming an issue… 

hi everyone! if you’re new here, welcome, i’m soph (or sophie!), and i’m so glad you’ve found your way to my little corner of the internet. it means the world that you’re reading and connecting with my stories, whether you’ve been here for ages or you’ve just stumbled across my page tonight. sometimes i still can’t believe how many kind, funny, and passionate people gather here, and i just want to say thank you for making this space so warm and comforting for me and for each other.

i want to be honest: for now, the rest of the fic will be a patreon exclusive. i know this might be new or unexpected for some, but after pouring so much love and energy into these stories—and seeing how many of you find comfort, joy, or just a little escape here—it felt right to create a special place for those who want to go even deeper with me and my writing and want to support me further. having a smaller, dedicated space helps me give more to each of you and keep creating stories i love.

patreon comes with a monthly fee and if you’re in the space to become a patreon i’d be over the moon 🥺 but it truly makes a huge difference for me as a writer. it allows me to spend more time writing, dreaming up new chapters, and sharing extra little worlds with you and as a thank you, i’ll be sharing so much more exclusive content, sneak peeks, behind-the-scenes, and personal updates for all my patrons. if you’ve ever felt comforted, seen, or inspired by my stories, or just want to support a writer you love, it would mean the world if you’d consider joining! your support genuinely helps me keep going, especially as the stories get longer, the plots get twistier (arin… i’m looking at you 👀), and i try to bring even more to this community.

thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being here and for loving these stories and characters as much as i do. i hope you’ll join me on patreon if you want to see what happens next with y/n and hoon—and know that, wherever you’re reading from, i’m endlessly grateful for every bit of support and kindness you show. if you’re unable to subscribe that’s ok! please check out my masterlist for my other works. 💗

all my love, always,

Ni-ki blinks once. Then again.

“…What are you doing?” he asks, voice still rough from steam and heat, towel slipping just a little lower when he shifts his weight.

You look him over slowly. Deliberately. Like you’re unwrapping him already with your eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling.

It’s not shy. Not playful in the usual way. It’s intentional. Mischievous as hell. Dangerous.

His gaze drops, follows the line of your legs, the ribbon, the way you’re sitting like you planned this.

“You’re staring,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move. Water keeps dripping off him, dotting the floor, his chest, his abs. He smells clean. Warm. Soap and something unmistakably him.

You tilt your head. “You took too long.”

That finally makes him laugh under his breath. “I was showering.”

“I know.”

The way you say it makes his smile fade. Something shifts in his eyes, curiosity sliding into something darker, slower. He straightens a little, towel clutched in one hand now like he’s suddenly aware of how exposed he is.

“And the ribbon?” he asks.

You reach out, pick it up, let it slide through your fingers. “You’re my present.”

Silence.

Then, “You’re joking.”

You pat the bed beside you. He doesn’t move right away. Just watches you. The lights. The ribbon. The way your eyes don’t waver for a second. “…You’re serious,” he says quietly.

You smile wider.

Ni-ki swallows.

And then he steps closer, water still dripping, towel dangerously loose, gaze locked on you like he’s already decided he’s not stopping you, even if he wanted to.

He barely has time to react before you’re standing in front of him.

“You gonna keep staring,” you say, hands already on him, “or lie down?”

Ni-ki huffs a quiet laugh, nervous and amused at the same time. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah,” you say easily. “Lie down.”

He does. No dramatics. Just backs up until the backs of his knees hit the bed, then sits, then lets himself fall back against the pillows. The towel is still hanging on by a miracle, damp and loose around his hips. His hair’s a mess, skin still warm, chest rising a little faster now that you’re hovering over him.

You climb onto the bed like it’s nothing. One knee on either side of his hips. Casual. Unrushed. Like you do this all the time.

He looks up at you, eyes dark, mouth a little open. “You’re actually doing this.”

“Obviously,” you say.

You lean down, press your hand flat to his chest, feeling his heartbeat jump under your palm. He sucks in a breath when you push him the rest of the way back, pinning him there without even trying. Then your fingers hook into the edge of the towel. He stiffens. “Hey—” You tug. Just enough to loosen it.

The towel slides open, damp fabric peeling away from his skin, dropping lower and lower until you pull it free completely and toss it aside like it’s not important. Like he’s not looking at you like he might lose his mind.

His ears are red now. “You’re evil.”

You shrug, reaching for the ribbon. “It’s a gift.”

You straddle him properly this time, settling your weight on him, completely unbothered. The ribbon drapes over his chest first, cool satin against warm skin, and he shivers the second it touches him.

You wrap it around him slowly. Around his torso. Once. Twice. Not tight. Just enough to make a point. He watches your hands the whole time.

“You know,” he says quietly, “people usually ask before tying someone up.”

You lean down, close enough that he can feel your breath. “You didn’t say stop.”

He doesn’t.

So you finish the loop, tie it neatly, right in the center of his chest. Pretty. Intentional.

You sit back, look at your work, satisfied.

“There,” you say. “Perfect.”

Ni-ki exhales, long and shaky, eyes never leaving yours. “…Okay,” he mutters. “Now what?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, feeling his skin heat under your touch as you go. Your fingers brush over the ribbon tied around his cock, still loose but securely in place.

"Hmm," you say thoughtfully, "I think we should test this out."

Without warning, you run your hands over his cock gently, watching his reaction closely. Ni-ki's hips jerk reflexively, a low groan rumbling in his chest. The ribbon holds firm, not restricting movement but providing just enough resistance to heighten sensation.

You start to stroke him slowly, thumb brushing over the sensitive head as your fingers glide along the shaft. Ni-ki's breathing grows ragged, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. He tries to move into your touch, but the ribbon prevents him from thrusting or fully engaging.

"You're so hard for me already," you tease, picking up the pace just a bit. "Don't you like being like this?"

Ni-ki snarls, eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and arousal. "Fuck you," he grits out, but there's no real heat behind it. His body is betraying him, responding eagerly to your ministrations despite his words.

You grin, pleased with yourself. "Oh, I plan to, very soon."

With that, you lean down and capture Ni-ki's mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing his moans as you continue to work him over with your hand. The ribbon serves as the perfect reminder of who's in control here, and you intend to make the most of it.

Your thumb glides over his head, spreading precum along the slit. Ni-ki hisses, leaning back as a low groan rumbles through his chest.

As you take his tip into your mouth, he bucks against your face with a low growl. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging gently, trying to deepen the angle, but you resist, keeping him at the edge of pleasure.

You suck him deeper, feeling his cock twitch and swell in your mouth. He tastes salty and sweet, strong and intoxicating. You hum around his shaft, enjoying the feeling of him filling your mouth, hearing his gasps and moans. You hollow your cheek around him, enjoying the way a string of curses leave his lips.

His hands tighten in your hair, pulling slightly. "Fuck," he breathes. "That's…"

But you pull away, leaving his cock slick and glistening. His hips buck again, seeking release, but you deny him.

"Not yet," you murmur, standing up and leaving him panting and frustrated on the bed. "Not until I've had enough."

Ni-ki snarls, watching you with narrowed eyes. But there's a hint of desire in them too, a need that you can feel pulsing through the air between you. You know he's yours for the taking, and you can't wait to take him.

You climb onto the bed, straddling Ni-ki's hips as his hard cock throbs against your covered pussy. The friction sends sparks through you, even through the thin fabric of your shorts.

You reach down and untie the ribbon from around his cock, letting it fall away. His cock springs free, leaking and begging for attention.

"Look at you," you breathe, grinding slowly against him. "So eager, so ready."

Ni-ki groans, trying to thrust up into your touch, but you hold him still. You lean forward, capturing his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as you continue to rub yourself against him. The pressure builds, your clit throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat.

Finally, you break the kiss, panting. "Fuck- Need you ki, Need you inside me." Ni-ki groans, grabbing your waist, slamming you down on his cock in one go.

As Ni-ki slams into you in one smooth motion, you cry out, your body shivering with pleasure. He fills you up completely, every inch of him buried inside you. You grip his shoulders, arching your back as you start to move, slowly at first, but building momentum.

You ride him, your hips rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. His cock slides in and out of you, each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. He's big, filling you up in a way that makes you feel possessed, owned. You love it.

Ni-ki growls, thrusting up into you with each bounce. His hands roam your body, pinching at your nipples. You're wet, soaking, slick, dripping down his length, and he can feel it, can feel how much you want him.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "God, you feel good."

You lean forward, resting your hands on his chest, looking him in the eyes as you continue to move. You moan, throwing your head back as his lips find the column of your throat, trailing kisses down to your collarbones. He bites a spot before sucking on it, leaving a dark purple bruise behind

Ni-ki's eyes flash with a mix of lust and possessiveness. "This pussy is mine," he growls.

You nod, your body responding to his words, tightening around him, pulling him deeper. You ride him harder, feeling the tension building, the climax growing closer.

"Yes," you whimper, tears building at the corner of your eyes.

"I'm coming, fuck ki, I'm coming-" Your body arching as you come, your pussy clenching around Ni-ki's cock, milking him for every last drop of pleasure.

Ni-ki follows soon after, grunting as he spills ropes of cum inside you, his cock hot and heavy as he empties himself into you. You collapse against him, panting, your bodies entwined, both spent and satisfied.

For a while, neither of you says anything.

Just breathing. Slowing down. His arm is heavy over your waist, warm and solid, like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. Your cheek is pressed against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat evening out under your ear.

Ni-ki breaks the silence first.

“…So,” he says, voice lazy. “Worst Christmas present ever or best?”

You snort. “You’re literally tied up ten minutes ago and that’s your takeaway?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs a little, tightening his arm around you, “I didn’t even get to unwrap you.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “Oh my god.”

He grins, smug and sleepy. “Next year. My turn.”

You laugh and shove at his shoulder weakly. “You’re not allowed near ribbons anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

He hums, clearly unconvinced, then pulls you closer anyway, tucking your head under his chin. One hand drifts up to your hair, fingers lazily combing through it, slow and absent like he’s half asleep already.

“You good?” he murmurs.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Very.”

“Good,” he says softly, like that was important.

The room is quiet again, Christmas lights blinking gently in the corner, the mess of the night forgotten on the floor. Ni-ki presses a quick kiss to the top of your head, arms locking around you like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

“Sleep,” he says, already drifting. “I’m not moving.”

You smile, eyes finally closing.

“Good,” you whisper. “Neither am I.”

And with him holding you like that, warm, safe, completely content, you fall asleep almost instantly.

(Masterlist)

Taglist (Open!! Comment if you want to be added):

Yang Jungwon

Open Yang's file...

Yang Jungwon A Korean serial killer, have a streak of 5 years of murder, favorite weapon a chainsaw, always had it with him. Such an innocent face yet so dangerous...

W.C --√ 23.5k

Contains --√ Smut, suggestive scenes, making out, eating pussy, M & F receiving, Oral, fingering, teasing, mentions of touching, sex, table sex, p in v, unprotected sex, emotional feelings, jealousy, mention of killing and blood, San from Ateez mentioned, ect.

VC Tape

Day 1: My first kill

---------------------------♱-----------------------------------

Jake Sim

Jake Sim an Australian - Korean murder, having a streak of 4 years, killing and hiding the body's very well...

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 2:..

---------------------------♱-----------------------------------

Park Jongseong

Jongseong or jay an American killer, killer streak up to 3 years..His eyes sharp like an eagle just like his butcher knife...

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 3:....

---------------------------♱-----------------------------------

Park Sunghoon

Sunghoon, a man colder than the ice he glazed as a child and yet now, his killing streak 5 years, be careful his skates are sharp...

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 4:....

---------------------------♱-----------------------------------

Lee Heeseung

Heeseung an innocent yet seductive man, Bambi eyes that could trick you onto his trap with sharp knives..A killing streak of 6 years..

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 5:...

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Kim Sunoo

Sunoo, sly as a fox...innocent eyes, personality that would make you fall for him, be careful he's really good with grenades!

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 6:....

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Nishimura Niki

Niki, a dancer...moves that makes you get hypnotized, yet something about his gaze and voice just seem to add more to the mystery

W.C --√...?

Contains --√...?

VC tape

Day 7:....

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Tags: @cherry012309