Lveegsoi

and it’s such a shame because he used to be gorgeous. genuinely a sexy villain af. now he’s a foot long.

has the same voice he had when he was human, even. suits him.

you adore the little shit. can’t help it. he’s adorable. you even buy him those fuckass colorful tunnels and hide treats in them just to watch him seethe while he hunts them down because “i am not your entertainment, you brainless whore.” you even painted his tiny nails black once while he was napping and he spent three days trying to bite them off while screeching about how you’ve humiliated him for the last time.

and he genuinely, deeply, spiritually despises both you and felix. no joke here lad. if he had thumbs and access to a weapon you’d both be done for.

he misses his human form more than anything, but tbh he deserved death for what he did back when he was human. he genuinely made innocent’s lives hell, killed and tortured, he was like an actual evil man.

fucking karma ig but still not enough.

anyways. felix also hates hyunjin’s guts, just can’t take him seriously anymore. like he’ll flick hyunjin off the kitchen counter when he’s trying to sabotage dinner, or dangle him by the scruff or something. that little cumsock is nothing to him.

felix thinks the whole situation is peak comedy. hyunjin plotting world domination from inside a ferret cage? hilarious. hyunjin trying to chew through felix’s shoelaces as revenge? even better.

felix will tell him shit like “bro you used to be able to destroy buildings, now you’re throwing a tantrum because i won’t let you drink from the toilet. get a grip.”

just again, hyunjin hates both of you with the fire of a thousand suns.

he has never hated anyone more.

he wants you dead(even though you didn’t do shit, he just always hated easily, villain, duh). he wants felix skinned. he wants his old body back and your luxurious penthouse apartment burned to the ground.

he’s full of rage and so tiny.

felix will literally be like “hey.” and hyunjin will go on a five minute rant about how he’s going to end him, destroy everything he loves, claw his eyes out, etc.

and felix just. walks past him. maybe tosses him a treat.

every time you kiss felix in the kitchen hyunjin makes this choked gagging noise from wherever he’s placed(can’t get off countertops by himself), every time felix picks you up and spins you around(you two are genuinely the two in love ever), hyunjin takes the chance to rub his little ferret ass all over felix’s shoes while your man is entertained by you.

he still lets you scratch under his chin. wouldn’t let felix do it tho.

but when felix comes home, he doesn’t even think about hyunjin, literally couldn’t care less, but the little fucker is always up to something when you don’t pay attention(you’re lowk a stay at home wife). so if the ferret is on the counter trying to fuck over anything really, felix usually swipes him off, that’s about all the attention he gives him. or sometimes he kicks him, (and hyunjin never gets hurt at all???), and hyunjin goes tumbling across the rug.

“whoops.” felix says every single time. “slipped.”

you fucking love hyunjin though. especially on the long days when felix is out doing hero shit and it’s just you and hyunjin.

bitch the building has a private everything, there’s also an elevator in the apartment itself, so it’s a penthouse or what, rooftop pool, a kitchen bigger than most apartments, allat. so most days it’s you in oversized shirts and shorts and socks, sipping coffee, while this tiny white ferret runs around.

the sound of his little nails clicking and skittering everywhere makes you want to squeal.

you’ll be folding laundry on the couch and listen to him run past, doing that weird sideways run ferrets do, muttering curses under his breath the whole time like “fuck you and your hero dick” or some variation, lil nails on the floor.

clickclickclickclickclick

thud.

he ran into a table leg.

sometimes you’ll leave treats in weird places just to watch him hunt them down while pretending he’s above it. he always is above it, right up until his little nose starts twitching and he launches himself into a tunnel while he’s calculating exactly how many bites it would take to sever your jugular.

felix’s way of dealing with him is way less patient. he hates the guy.

take the time you three are in the living room and hyunjin starts his usual monologue about how he’s going to reclaim his empire once he’s human again, felix is scrolling on his phone, isn’t in the mood to look up at hyune, says “keep squeaking like that and i’ll neuter you myself. snip snip, little balls gone.”

hyunjin freezes midsentence, fur puffing up, and starts cursing in the most creative ways you’ve ever heard. stuff about felix’s mother, felix’s dick, felix’s entire bloodline being cursed with micropenises.

felix just smiles and moves his fingers like scissors. “snip snip.”

or you’re trying to watch a movie, hyunjin won’t stop yapping from the coffee table about how felix is a talentless whore and felix just wants to watch his movie so he tells hyunjin to “shut the fuck up or i’m using you as a condom. you’re about the right size and way tighter than you deserve.”

you giggle.

hyunjin lets out the most horrified high pitched scream you’ve ever heard and throws himself off the table in pure panic, only to get caught mid air by felix’s hand and thrown onto the big armchair. just to set him back a little.

hyunjin will respond by trying to claw felix’s face off for the rest of the night while screaming about revenge and how he’ll make felix eat his own testicles. felix just puts hyunjin in the empty fish tank “for timeout” and hyunjin spends the whole time throwing himself against the glass.

like there is no respect left in that man’s body when it comes to hyunjin.

and just again, that’s well deserved. hyunjin used to be a horrible person, no matter how beautiful he was.

or like you and felix will be on the couch, tangled up, him kissing down your neck, hands wandering, everything hot and in love and quiet and finally normal for like two seconds, and then from across the room from hyunjin’s cage: “this is disgusting.”

you both ignore him.

“you two are gross.”

nothing.

“i hope you choke.”

felix mumbles a “you’re about to have a worse day.” into your skin, and instead of, you know, taking you somewhere else like a normal human being? felix gets up, walks over to hyunjin’s cage, opens the cage. (which has multiple levels and furniture and even a hammock)

hyunjin is mid talk like “oh finally, you’ve come to your senses—”

gets grabbed.

felix walks away with him and drops him into the toilet. lid down.

comes back to you. sits down, pulls you back in. “sorry about that.”

you continue.

and there was that time in the kitchen. you’re up on the counter, felix stands between your legs, things getting heated, and hyunjin is loose, which is mistake number one.

you just hear the clickclickclick getting faster. closer.

felix doesn’t even let him speak, just picks him up, opens a cabinet, puts him inside, closes it.

“he’s gonna knock everything over.” you whisper.

“good. maybe he’ll season himself.”

or the absolute fucking wooooorst is when you’re tangled up with felix in bed. hyunjin is in his cage in the living room. door closed. locked. secure. felix is kissing you, slow, hot.

and then, right next to your ear: “…you forgot the top latch.”

you SCREAM.

felix flinches.

hyunjin is on the nightstand.

felix stares at him for a long second. then reaches over, grabs a pillow, and drops it on top of him. covers the little guy with it then puts the heavy ass lamp on the pillow too.

the pillow starts moving. hyunjin is fighting for his life under there.

“continue.” felix says to you, already pulling your face back to his.

muffled from under the pillow: “this is suffocating—”

felix presses the pillow down slightly. “quiet.”

and the shit you witness??? one time you’re just in the bathroom, brushing your teeth, door wide open and you hear felix in the hall go “don’t start.”

hyunjin immediately starts.

not even five seconds later, hyunjin flies past the doorway.

you freeze with the toothbrush in your mouth.

thunk. he hits the wall. then from the floor, in that little soft voice: “…i will kill you.”

another time felix got fed up with hyunjin’s nonstop squeaking rant about “the injustice of it all” and just vacuumed him up. you walked in to find felix calmly pushing the vacuum around while muffled cursing came from inside the vacuum.

“he’s fine.” felix said, patting the vacuum like it was a good dog.

you’ll be cooking dinner and hear felix in the other room threatening to turn hyunjin into a living butt plug if he doesn’t stop plotting, while hyunjin is screeching back that he hopes felix’s dick falls off.

the only thing that actually gets a reaction out of felix is when that white sock of hatred throws himself and clamps those tiny razor teeth right onto felix’s junk through his sweatpants. felix always yelps, doubles over, and spends the next five minutes swearing while hyunjin hangs there.

“you’re obsessed with my balls. it’s getting weird.” felix says, holding hyunjin up eye level after he finally got the lil mf off.

but then oh. you’re sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone when hyunjin comes out from under the dining table, nails clicking. because he felt like it, he jumps onto your lap, starts circling before settling down on your thighs. his tiny body curls up, SO cute that fluffy white tail twitching once before going still.

“i hate you, bitch.” he tells you. “i hate every inch of your stupid fucking face and your hero fucked cunt. when i get my real body back i’m gonna piss in your mouth while you sleep and laugh as you drown in it.”

you hum and stroke down his back with your nails.

he keeps going, muttering shit under his breath, how he’s gonna skull fuck your corpse, how he’ll turn your intestines into ropes he’ll tie prostitutes up with, but the whole time he’s burrowing his tiny ass body deeper into your lap. you feel too warm.

you scratch behind his ears and he lets out this little trill before catching himself and hissing a fuck you out one more time.

another afternoon you see him in the kitchen trying to drag himself up onto the counter where felix left half a bag of gummies. hyunjin’s got his front paws on the edge, back legs fucking around, grunting with effort as he tries to yank the bag down.

his evil little plan is that he’ll eat so much gummies that he’ll throw up. convince you he needs the vet, then escape from there.

you watch him as he eats gummy after gummy, cheeks puffed out, making the most determined evil faces while chewing. a little ferret btw.

after about fifteen of them he starts making these weird little gagging noises, body convulsing, looking like he’s about to hurl, but nothing comes up. he tries again, but his ferret stomach refuses to cooperate.

he still tries every few days, sniffing out chocolate, looking through the trash for things, once attempting to chug an entire energy drink he knocked over, but his little system never lets him actually get sick. he just ends up bloated and pissed off.

then there are the times when he’s being extra loud and evil, screeching from the top of the bookshelf or from inside one of his tunnels about how he’s going to castrate felix with a spoon and wear his balls as a necklace.

those days felix usually sighs, reaches up, and snatches hyunjin by the scruff. hyunjin immediately starts thrashing, tiny legs kicking, teeth snapping at the air. “don’t you fucking dare, you whore! put me down! i’ll bite your fucking eyes out!”

hyunjin hates being picked up more than anything. it makes him feel small and helpless and he loses his tiny fucking mind every single time. he’s more than this! he’s not a little pet, he’s the fucking hwang hyunjin and he’s powerful!

“yeah yeah sure whatever.” felix opens the cage and throws hyunjin inside. sometimes gives him a little extra flick on the ass on the way in, or you’ll lean down and blow a kiss while saying “night night, angry baby.”

hyunjin always throws himself against the bars immediately, rattling them, screeching “i’ll murder you both in your sleep, i’ll shit in your lungs, i’ll turn your assholes inside out and wear them as hats!”

the cage door clicks shut and he keeps going, promising graphic torture that involves your nipples, felix’s prostate, and several household appliances.

hyunjin is genuinely evil to his core. he wants you both suffering. he dreams of blood and fire and your screams every night. but he’s also stuck as this tiny sweetpea brutally cute little ferret who can’t do a damn thing when you two decide it’s cage time.

and god, you and felix are married. like so married. genuinely deeply in love.

which means, you fuck hard.

loud, messy kinda sex that leaves the sheets falling off the bed/ripped/soaked and the headboard banging against the wall. you two fucking go at it.

hyunjin hates every single second of it because ferrets have good hearing(he already had good hearing in his human body, now this body isn’t any better) he catches lots of moans, slap of skin, wet sounds even when he’s locked in the cage on the other side of the place.

then, he really does want to kill you two.

he’ll be curled up in his stupid luxury cage trying to plot world domination in his tiny evil brain when suddenly he hears you gasping felix’s name, that thud of the bedframe, the wet squelch of felix’s cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt while he moans shit in your ear.

hyunjin starts screeching immediately, but oh, why would you two hear him?

he already hated other people having sex near him when he was a human. well, he still is one, just with another body. but still. ew. like shut up.

back in your room, felix fucks you harder, making the sounds even louder. missionary with your legs over his shoulders so he can pound deep, wet slap of balls on your ass. doggy while he grips your hips and rails you so hard the whole bed shakes, groaning around when you start squirting on him. reverse cowgirl so you’re bouncing on his cock, tits jiggling, ass clapping down loud enough that hyunjin starts banging his little head against the cage’s bars.

then felix flips you onto your back and hooks your ankles behind his neck, folding you in half with that brutal stamina of his so he can make his pretty cock poke your cervix, groaning “take it all, baby, gonna fill this greedy pussy till it’s dripping down your thighs.”

when you ride felix’s face and he eats you out like a fucking animal, tongue fucking into you while you grind on his mouth, the obscene moans felix, FELIX(so not even you only but he moans too, this man is brutal) lets out travel straight to hyunjin’s sensitive ears and he starts throwing himself on the cage bars screaming around.

and god forbid you two go for anal. the second felix works his cock into your tight ass, since that takes effort and the harder moans that come with it, those are louder.

hyunjin actually wants to die by the time felix groans when he pumps you full. luckily the walls are thick so hyunjin at least can’t hear the wet drip when felix pulls out and his load starts leaking from your used cunt or ass, or the lazy slap of his cock against your clit as he smears it around, but when you or felix start screaming or felix starts talking sum “take my cock, baby” god, hyunjin actually tried to hang himself once with the hammock in the cage.

and the two are constantly inventing new ways to fuck with each other.

felix will dangle hyunjin by the tail over the balcony just to watch him flail and scream death threats. also once tied a tiny bell around hyunjin’s neck while he was sleeping and hyunjin spent three days trying to chew it off, jingling everywhere. hyunjin got back at him by gnawing through the charger of felix’s favorite gaming headset. felix responded by putting hyunjin in the blender (lid off, of course) and spinning it on low just to watch the ferret tumble while hyunjin screamed “i’ll shove that blender up your ass and turn your prostate into smoothie!”

hyunjin once managed to knock an entire bottle of lube into felix’s lap as revenge for being kicked across the room. felix spent the next hour fucking you with extra slippery enthusiasm while loudly announcing “THANKS DUDE.” hyunjin nearly had an aneurysm listening to it.

they never stop. felix will flick hyunjin’s nose with a finger when he walks by, hard enough to make the ferret throw his little head around. hyunjin will wait until felix is asleep(and you’re not home!!) and then hump his forehead aggressively. felix once threatened to sew hyunjin’s mouth shut with fishing line if he didn’t stop squeaking around. hyunjin chewed holes in felix’s favorite armchair for that.

it’s important to take in notice that this is not an animal. this is an animal’s body but a man inside of it, an evil human being. has the iq and understanding of a normal human. none of the two boys do this shit with the acknowledgment of like this is animal cruelty or whatever. both are very aware that hyunjin is a human and it’s not an animal y’all are doing this to. felix doesn’t see hyunjin as a ferret at all, it’s just hyunjin’s looks, but when has felix cared about looks.

and listen, you know hyunjin hates you with every microscopic fiber of his evil little soul. every single day he mutters about how he’s gonna skull fuck your corpse and use your eye sockets as cum dumpsters once he’s back in his gorgeous villain body.

but.

he hates felix more. way more. like, nuclear levels more. the kind of hatred that makes his tiny ferret heart actually hurt when he looks at the hero. felix is a dick to him. felix ruined his existence.

so, felix first, you a distant but still very hated second.

sometimes felix is on one of his asshole days, chasing hyunjin around the penthouse with a rolled up magazine or something. hyunjin will run straight to you, tiny claws clicking, and worm his way up the inside of your sweatpants. crawls all the way up your thigh, until he’s tucked right between the warm crease where your leg meets your body. no, he does not care about being that close to something that intimate of yours, this man couldn’t care less. you’d assume he was asexual or something if he wasn’t always bragging about how he used to fuck and who when he was in his human body. so you just know he absolutely doesn’t see you that way. anyways, he stays there on you perfectly still, breathing fast on your skin.

felix comes in, magazine in hand. “babe, you seen the ferret? little shit tried to piss in my coffee again.”

you blink up at him with those big angel eyes. “no. haven’t seen him. maybe he’s hiding in the vents again.”

felix walks away muttering. the second he’s out of earshot, hyunjin lets out the world’s tiniest, shakiest sigh of relief on your thigh.

those are the only times he ever feels anything close to gratitude.

other times it’s just the two of you home.

felix is out doing hero shit or whatever, and you’re in the kitchen cooking something in your big wide pan on the stove.

hyunjin keeps trying to climb the side of it, tiny paws slipping on the metal, determined to hurl himself into the sizzling oil.

“baby, no.” you sigh, grabbing him mid climb before he burns his murder mittens off.

he immediately starts thrashing. “unhand me! i’ll gut you!”

you drop him into the huge back pocket of your oversized sweatpants. he slides right in, ass first, until he’s all in there. he wriggles and curses, calling you every name in the villain dictionary, but the pocket is warm, soft from being on your body all day, and smells like you and laundry detergent. so within ten minutes the angry squeaking turns into grumpy muttering, then into sleepy little chitters, and eventually he just passes the fuck out. curled up in that biiiig back pocket, nose tucked under his tail, while you walk around the penthouse doing chores, cooking, texting, whatever.

you carry him like that for hours sometimes. he sleeps through you folding laundry, through you watching tv while you vacuum. every once in a while he’ll twitch in his sleep and mumble something like “fuck… felix… balls… blender…” but mostly he’s dead to the world, trusting your body heat and the gentle sway of your walking. trusting you to keep him safe in there.

when he finally wakes up he always acts like it never happened, immediately launching into a fresh rant about how he’s going to rip your uterus out with his teeth and knit a scarf with it.

he lets himself get soft with you from time to time.

but only with you.

because felix is an asshole.

because felix sometimes drops hyunjin into the sink and turn the faucet on full blast, holding him under the cold spray while hyunjjn screams and paddles. because felix is a disgusting person.

another time hyunjin manages to climb the curtains and drop directly onto felix’s head while he’s napping on the couch. he latches onto felix’s ear with his teeth and starts yanking. felix wakes up yelling, grabs hyunjin by the tail, and swings him around before throwing him across the room.

“nice try, ear rapist. next time i’m using you as a fleshlight. bet your tight little ferret asshole would stretch real nice.”

hyunjin comes running back, tiny body puffed up. “i’ll fuck your eye socket, man, i’ll—“

felix traps him under an upside down glass bowl on the coffee table for three hours, tapping on the glass every few minutes.

hyunjin throws himself against the glass with so much power that the bowl rattles, screeching promises of disembowelment and how he’s gonna wear felix’s intestines as a scarf.

you’ve seen felix threaten to microwave hyunjin for thirty seconds “just to warm him up” only for hyunjin to try to piss in felix’s protein powder for that. felix once tied a tiny leash around hyunjin’s middle and walked him around the penthouse while hyunjin screamed bloody murder and tried to bite his ankles to the bone.

they’re constantly inventing new ways to make each other miserable.

and felix is only a dick to hyunjin. reasonably, of course. to the rest of the world, he’s an angel. to you, he’s an angel.

that’s because he has never been in love like this before, ever.

you and felix are disgustingly, unbelievably, unswallowably in love. even after years together. you two are fucking unbearable. constantly touching. his hand on you anywhere you walk, your fingers tangled in his hair when you kiss, makeout sessions on the couch that turn into giggles because he keeps snorting into the kiss, and let’s not even talk about the nasty sex you two manage to pull off. money makes it all easier, ofc. private jets when you feel like it, designer anything and their cousins, the fact that your fucking penthouse has a rooftop pool. rooftop pool. r o o f t o p p o o l. felix spoils you rotten.

take this, it’s the afternoon. you’re outside on that rooftop, fuck, the image itself is a mental jerk off, sun on yours skin, the pool water sparkling, and felix is at the fancy built in grill flipping steaks or burgers or whatever rich people meat he decided on today, shirtless. this fucking dipshit of a man.

you’re stretched out on a lounger in a tiny bikini, sunglasses, sipping smth expensive and fruity. hyunjin is on a stupid little leash clipped to a sparkly pink collar you bought to piss his tiny ass off. he’s sitting next to your chair looking like he wants to commit mass murder with his teeth.

you hold out a piece of grilled meat between your fingers, still warm, to him. “c’mon, angry baby, open up. it’s good for you.“

hyunjin glares up at you with those tiny black eyes full of pure evil. “i would rather chew my own intestines out and strangle you with them than eat from your whore fingers.”

but his little stomach betrays him because he’s a ferret and food is food. he jumps forward, tiny sharp teeth grazing your skin as he takes the piece, chewing aggressively while muttering around it “fuck you… fuck this… fuck your perfect little life…”

you keep feeding him, stroking his head with one finger between pieces, and he lets you because what the fuck else is he gonna do, starve on principle? he hates it so much his whole body vibrates with rage.

meanwhile felix keeps glancing over from the grill with that biiig sunny grin. “looking good over there, babe. he eating good?”

you blow him a kiss and he pretends to catch it and slap it on his ass. hyunjin gags.

inside the penthouse it’s the same story everywhere hyunjin looks.

felix will come home from hero shit, scoop you up and spin you around while you laugh into his mouth. you’ll cook together in the (massive) kitchen, him sneaking up behind you to kiss your shoulder while you stir something, whispering shi like “can’t wait to bend you over this counter” or him reading on the couch with your head in his lap, playing with your hair. or you bringing him coffee exactly how he likes it and getting rewarded with that soft “thank you, baby” and a kiss on the forehead.

the place reeks of love.

hyunjin hates living in it.

back when he was human, tall and beautiful and terrifying, he spent years making everyone else’s lives hell because his own was a fucking void. no one loved him.

now he’s stuck in this little prison watching two idiots be genuinely good to each other every single day.

he hates it. he wants to vomit but just again he never fucking can.

it’s everything he never had and never let himself want, and it hurts, burns worse than any kick or threat from felix.

if you two will ever have kids then they’ll have the perfect life. two loving parents, money, and growing up with the knowledge that they’re wanted.

but instead of kids, right now it’s hyunjin who gets your baby treatment.

you keep buying him tiny sweaters, for an example. he hates them with a passion that could power cities. you’ll corner him after a bath (another thing he despises but secretly loves because warm water), wrap him in a towel and then wrestle one of the sweaters over his squirming body while he screeches “get this hideous shit off me you sadistic bitch! i am not your dress up doll! i used to command armies and now i look gay!”

he’s so cute you could die.

he’ll sulk in the corner wearing the sweater because he can’t get it off, muttering “when i’m human again i’m burning every single one of these in a pile made from your skin.”

oh, yeah, baths.

you love giving him baths.

you fill the big marble sink in the master bathroom with warm water, a tiny drop of fancy unscented baby shampoo and get a soft washcloth. oh you the parent ever. you strip down to just a tank top and panties so you don’t get soaked, then gently scoop the ferret out of whatever hiding spot he’s chosen that day. he immediately starts hissing and thrashing like you’re lowering him into acid.

you coo at him, lowering his tiny body into the warm water.

the second the heat gets to his skin he goes stiff, then slowly relaxes. little eyes almost close as you cup water over his back, letting it run through his fur. so gentle. you massage the shampoo in with your fingertips, scratching behind his ears, under his chin, along the little dip of his spine where he can’t reach. (much more gentle than felix would be. when it was felix’s turn to bathe the ferret for the first time he started it with throwing hyunjin into the bathtub from the other side of the bathroom, then yelled “trickshot!” first and last time you let him on bath duty. it’s always your job now.)

“there you go, baby. doesn’t that feel nice? all clean and warm. you’re such a good boy even when you’re plotting my gruesome death.”

he stays almost comfortable for a solid ten minutes, floating there, letting out these tiny happy noises.

that’s usually when felix wanders in, fresh from whatever hero bullshit or workout he was doing, shirtless and just having that rich aura around himself.

you two are actually the perfect match omfg.

he comes up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and starts pressing slow kisses along the side of your neck while you’re still holding hyunjin in the sink. you melt back into him, sighing happily.

felix glances down at the ferret and can’t resist. he reaches one finger out and pokes hyunjin right in the middle of his wet forehead, pushing his head under the water before letting him pop back up sputtering.

hyunjin goes crazy. water flies everywhere as he thrashes, screeching at the top of his lungs. “get your fucking hero hands away from me you ball sucking traitor! i’ll bite your finger off and shove it up your own ass!”

felix chuckles, so deep, so hot, still on your neck, one hand sliding down to squeeze your ass while the other keeps lightly poking at hyunjn’s side, making the ferret spin in the water.

you’re laughing, it’s beautiful, also tilting your head to give felix better access. “felix, stop tormenting him. he was being good.”

“he’s never good.” felix murmurs, sucking a light mark on you. “deserves every poke he gets.”

hyunjin is foaming at the mouth by then, half drowned and fully enraged, screaming about how he’s going to castrate felix with dental floss and use his balls as bath bombs.

oh he’s your baby. (mentally a 26 year old man who wants you dead)

he hates you both. hates the love dripping from every surface. hates how safe your stupid empathy makes him feel when felix is being a dick. hates the way he keeps crawling into your pants to hide, keeps falling asleep in your back pocket the baby, keeps eating from your hand even while cursing your entire bloodline.

sometimes chan comes over, felix’s old partner from way back. you like the guy a lot. always brings expensive shit when he visits.

hyunjin and chan have history though. some deep shit, but chan has a longing for justice so hard that he forgot all about it the second hyunjin started killing innocent people.

and he enjoys seeing his old buddy like this.

the first time he saw hyunjin after the transformation he laughed so hard he cried and laid down on the floor. ever since then he makes it his mission to torment the little shit every chance he gets.

so when hyunjin jumps at chan for bullying him and bites the tip of his finger, chan just starts spinning hyunjin around in circles. hyunjin js screeching at the top of his lungs the whole time while chan talks about sum “you’re much cuter this way”

hyunjin finally lets go and goes flying across the room, slamming into the wall with an outraged squeak. then immediately starts ranting about how he’s going to shove chan’s entire hand up felix’s ass and then light them both on fire.

chan just sucks the tiny bite mark on his finger. “still got that fight in you, huh? good. makes it more fun when i do this—” (typical shi chan would say, tf does be think he is. love him this way tho.) and then he flicks hyunjin’s tail hard enough to make the ferret spin in place from confusion.

hyunjin hates chan almost as much as he hates felix.

you, still give him all the love anyway.

after chan leaves you scoop the fucking fuming ferret up, press kisses to his little head, and rock him. you keep loving him even when the whole world (and especially felix and chan) keeps reminding him how small and useless he is now.

and deep down, he appreciates this. but even he doesn’t know that.

just again, felix loves you so fucking much. he’ll do anything to give you even five minutes of peace, including babysitting the tiny white ball of pure concentrated evil. his arch nemesis btw.

sometimes he picks hyunjin up, ignores the screaming and biting, and carries him off so you can take a bath, read, or just sit in silence for a while.

that’s how hyunjin ends up put down on the bathroom counter one random evening, while felix is showering. like he’s in there under the massive rainfall head(still you two are rich rich), water going down that unbelievably fucking perfect body while soaping up.

“enjoying the show, boy?” felix calls out as he rinses shampoo from his hair. “must be rough watching a real man wash his balls while you’ve got nothing but… that. pfftt.”

hyunjin’s entire body puffs up. “fuck you, you whore. hope the soap gets in your eyes and blinds you so i can finally gnaw your cock off while you scream. i used to have women on their knees for me and now i’m stuck staring at your flat hero ass. it’s ugly, by the way. ugly.”

felix laughs at him, turns around, presses his bare ass on the glass right in hyunjin’s face, wiggling it like the asshole he is. “kiss it better, short king. maybe if you’re good i’ll let you lick the water off later.”

hyunjin launches himself at the glass, falls the fuck down on the tile, keeps hitting the glass with his tiny nails and teeth while he shrieks every curse in existence.

felix finishes his shower whistling, dries off slow just to drag it out and fuck with hyunjin, then picks hyunjin up by the scruff and walks out, drops him in his cage.

that same night hyunjin decides on revenge. while you and felix are already tangled up in bed, he sneaks into the kitchen, finds the big box of cereal, climbs inside, and starts eating.

then he realizes he’s sunk too deep. the box is tall, the cereal is slippery, and his little legs can’t get anything to push himself on.

he’s stuck.

meanwhile in the bedroom you’re cuddled up to felix’s chest, one leg thrown over him, hand slowly stroking his cock while he groans(like specifically groans) into your mouth. slow, sweet handy under the sheets, his fingers buried in your hair as he kisses you lightly.

“fuck baby, just like that… love you so much.” he whispers into the kisses, hips gently going up into your fist.

hyunjin starts screeching at the top of his lungs. but you and felix are way too all up in each other to notice.

morning. you wake up first, walk into the kitchen in felix’s shirt. there’s cereal all over the floor and a suspicious white fluffy ass sticking out of the box.

you reach in, gently pull hyunjin free. he’s covered in cereal, fur sticky from the sugar, looking horrible.

“oh my god, baby, what did you do to yourself?” you coo, brushing cereal out of his fur.

“that fucking hero left the box open on purpose! this is attempted murder! i demand blood! i demand—”

you scoop him up to your chest and start cuddling him to death, pressing kisses all over his sticky little head, nuzzling his belly, rocking him like a baby while he thrashes around. why are you two fucking hilarious. “shhh, you’re okay. i’ve got you. such a brave boy trying to take on the cereal box all by himself.”

he keeps cursing between kisses to his head and belly, calling you every filthy name he can think of, but his body slowly goes limp, tiny heart rate calming as you carry him back to bed and tuck him between you and felix for morning cuddles.

felix cracks one eye open, sees the sugar covered ferret, snorts. “looks like someone had a rough night. good.”

hyunjin glares at him but doesn’t try to bite because your arms are warm and your love is relentless and he’s too exhausted to fight it right now.

and shit like this happens all the time. felix will “borrow” hyunjin for an hour so you can take a long bath in peace, only for you to come out and find the two of them in the living room, felix playing video games while hyunjin is duct taped to the coffee table because he tried to chew through smething. when asked about it, felix shrugs and says “he started it” while you peel the tape off and spend the next thirty minutes kissing hyunjin’s head and telling him he’s still the scariest villain you know.

oh, felix doesn’t mind the love you give hyunjin, by the way. he knows he’s irreplaceable, there’s not one drop of insecurity in this man’s dickhead body. no reason to feel any bad.

or felix takes hyunjin to the gym with him (in a carrier) so you can sleep in, and hyunjin spends the whole time screaming.

one morning felix “accidentally” locks hyunjin inside the fridge for twenty minutes while he makes you breakfast in bed. when you get hyunjin he’s ice cold and stiff, immediately trying to burrow into your warm tits for warmth(not because tits, just again, hyunjin doesn’t see you like that at all, it’s because he knows women are warm there) while calling felix… i don’t think i can write this down. felix laughs at him and feeds you strawberries.

god, they hate each other so much but are literally made to be enemies.

like that one evening you’re on the couch making out with felix, slow and sweet and so young married, his tongue sliding on yours while his hand cups the back of your neck. sighs and little moans, whatnot. all while, mind you, felix has his other arm stretched straight out to the side, and at the end of that arm is hyunjin dangling by his harness from felix’s fist, legs kicking wildly, body twisting and thrashing.

“you fucking—sloppy—kissing—cocksucker!” hyunjin squeaks as he spins in circles.

felix hums on your lips, smiling into it, turns his wrist so hyunjin does a full 360. “not now, short king, daddy’s busy.”

the constant short kings thrown at hyunjin are a hundred times funnier if you consider that he used to be taller than felix.

eventually he gets bored and drops hyunjin onto the coffee table where the ferret immediately tries to jump at felix’s crotch, only to get gently kicked back by felix’s foot.

or he’ll set the ferret on top of the fridge and walk away while hyunjin screams from eight feet up, tiny legs dangling over the edge.

but felix interrupt his villain torture sessions just to pull you into his lap and kiss you stupid, whispering “love you more than anything, baby” into your mouth while hyunjin is dangling from his other hand losing his mind. he wants to throw hyunjin into the wall but suddenly that urge is nothing the second he sees you. his perfect beautiful wife.

he does the hyunjin babysitting shit because he wants you happy and relaxed, even if it means enduring an hour of death threats and attempted ball biting.

hyunjin is… hyunjin is more complicated.

he hates you. genuinely. with a burning, foaming, ball aching passion. he like calls you “felix’s personal cum rag” or “the bitch whose tits i’m gonna use as trampolines when i’m big again.” he plots your death in vivid detail every single night.

but underneath all that anger there’s this thing only you ever gave him.

he doesn’t like you. but he craves the way you love him anyway.

he craves the baths where you massage his tiny body and call him baby even while he’s cursing you out. he craves the way you hand feed him and listen to the whole rants about his old villain glory days. he craves crawling up inside your sweatpants to hide from felix and the way you lie for him. he craves waking up in your giant back pocket after falling asleep in there. he craves the morning cuddles. he craves when you smother him in kisses instead of scolding him.

he doesn’t like you. he refuses to like you.

but fuck if he isn’t starting to need you.

platonically, of course, let’s make that clear.

he loves felix’s love for you too, because watching felix be so purely in love with you makes the hero look human and weak and that makes hyunjin feel better about himself. makes screaming “shut your whore mouth before i turn it into a second asshole” at felix better.

and you always include the little fucker. some nights before you crawl into bed and melt into your beautiful husband, you open hyunjin’s fancy cage, scoop the fuckass ferret out, and press him to your chest. so he’s tucked between your tits, tiny body warm on your skin, his little heartbeat beating with yours. “this changes nothing you sentimental cunt. i still plan to rip your nipples off with my teeth and use them as decorations on my future throne.”

you hum softly, one arm cradling him close while your other hand slides down to squeeze felix’s ass under the sheets. felix grins on your neck.

hyunjin keeps muttering disgusting things against your collarbone, but he stops moving around. his tiny claws flex once, twice, then relax.

he’s never had this in his human life. not once. no one ever held him. no one ever gave him warmth. so even while he’s seething, the feeling of being pressed to soft skin and heartbeat makes something actually addictive develop in his walnut brain.

he hates how good it feels. he hates it so much he almost wants to cry, but instead he just hisses “i’ll skull fuck your future children” and comes closer.

during the day when felix is out doing hero shit, you walk around the penthouse with hyunjin held to your chest like a baby. just a baby. one hand under his butt, the other supporting his back, or gently bouncing him with one full arm while you do chores or scroll on your phone.

the sway gets to him every single time, how rhythmic it is. nobody can resist that. after a few minutes his pretty little eyes get heavy. and then, oh my god, he starts sucking on his own tiny ferret fingers, making these little suckling noises while his tail twitches.

it feels so good. the warmth, the gentleness, the bounce, the way you talk to him. he’s irritated as fuck but he never tries to climb down.

one afternoon felix is in the shower and you’ve got hyunjin in the big marble tub for his bath. y’know, warm water, a couple of those floating bath toys he pretends to hate, and you’re sitting on the edge, watching him paddle around. your little swimmer.

he’s actually lowkey enjoying the swimming, zooming from one end to the other, when felix steps out of the shower completely butt fucking naked, water dripping down his perfect body. hyunjin looks up at him.

“ha. mine used to be bigger, micropenis. you could try casting a spell on that too. or turn me back to human so i can make you suck it.”

felix flips hyunjin off, walks over still dripping wet, leans down, and presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head. “love you, baby. keep spoiling the evil rat.” then he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist, and leaves you to watch hyunjin continue his angry laps around the tub.

it’s also a huge influence on hyunjin’s never loved brain that you and felix are so casual with intimacy, with being naked around each other, naked also means vulnerable, and literally why would anyone be vulnerable from their free will??? hyunjin never understood that. but now, he begins to. because he sees love in this household.

you even made him one of those sensory things like a big box filled with dry macaroni. ferrets are supposed to love the crunchy texture and the rattling sound, you saw.

you set it on the floor one evening and drop hyunjin inside. he starts thrashing around, macaroni flying everywhere.

“what the fuck is this? i’ll shove every piece of this pasta up your cunt and make you rattle when you walk!”

but ten minutes later when you check on him he’s deep in the macaroni, making little content noises, asleep. tired himself out, the baby(is an evil man). knocked the fuck out.

that night felix actually lets him sleep in the bed with you two. hyunjin ends up between your bodies, curled up, tiny head under your chin(specifically yours, he hates both you and felix but you’re his favorite). felix mutters “if he bites my dick in his sleep i’m turning him into a scarf” but he leaves him there.

hyunjin wakes up the next morning pressed between two warm humans and he’s never been more pissed off. he’s never felt more… something. he starts plotting how to poison the macaroni box while you two are still asleep and fuck’s sake why are you two so comforting like this.

and also, hyunjin has been begging for cigarettes for literal months. ever since he got turned into a ferret he’s been screeching about needing nicotine, even though the addiction should have stayed in his human body.

felix finally gives in one night. the two of them are out on the balcony, felix in pants only, hyunjin on the little glass table next to him.

felix lights up a cigarette from the pack he bought just for the ferret, takes a drag, then holds it down so the end is near hyunjin’s tiny mouth.

hyunjin’s leans in, takes the world’s smallest puff, fucking adorable, and immediately starts coughing his lungs out, whole body convulsing, eyes watering.

felix laughs at him and holds it there, letting hyunjin try again.

it’s brutally sweet, if you think about it.

you shout from inside the penthouse that dinner’s ready. felix calls back “coming babe!” stubs the cigarette out on the railing, and kicks hyunjin back inside.

hyunjin goes flying across the threshold, tumbling into the living room. “i wasn’t finished you heartless fuck! i’ll rip your throat out and smoke your arteries!” he’s so mad he’s literally vibrating.

but the truth is felix did it for him. bought the pack. took him outside. held the cigarette to his little mouth. gave him a tiny piece of the old villain life he misses so much.

hyunjin has never been more pissed off in his entire miserable ferret existence.

he’s also never been more loved.

he still hates both of you with every fiber of his tiny evil being, but late at night when he’s pressed between your bodies, one paw on felix’s arm and his face buried in your skin, sucking on his own tiny fingers while the gentle rise and fall of your breathing soothes the empty places he used to fill with cruelty… he feels something else than irritation.

he has zero tiny idea whether to scream or curl up tighter.

so he does both. every single day.

author’s note: oh this is going to flop, i don’t think there’s a big audience for content like this. but we’ll see. anyways part two of all done boss is coming!! another ot8 fic in the works then part two of serial killer han<3 then i’m thinking maybe dear yn next because i have so much shit planned for that part. or maybe minho’s solo killer fic??

you even stopped at that boba place he’s obsessed with. the one he always drags you to after classes, with the brown sugar syrup that he insists is “better stirred manually,” as if you even care. but you went anyway, ordered his favorite just the way he likes it, extra tapioca pearls and everything. because you’re a good girlfriend, a thoughtful girlfriend. you showed up wearing one of his sweatshirts over your tank top that still smelled like him. sweet and sleepy, and vaguely like that weird lavender detergent he buys in bulk.

but what you didn’t expect to see when you turn the corner and spot him in the hallway, hands full of extension cords and tri-fold posters, all flushed, sweaty, adorable— was some random girl laughing way too hard at whatever he just said, standing far too close for your liking.

the smile etched on your face dropped instantly, you don’t even blink. just stopped mid-step and watched as she nudges him with her elbow, leaning closer to say something in his ear. and jisung, your jisung, laughs shyly, rubbing the back of his neck like the idiot he is, readjusting his glasses every few seconds.

now this girl has her acrylics on his forearm, giggling as if he’s the funniest person on the planet, and jisung doesn’t even push her away, just smiles cluelessly, not a single thought in that brain of his.

your jaw clenches. heat rising up your chest so fast it feels suffocating. it’s not even the flirting that’s bothering you the most, it’s that he’s letting her. standing there, nodding along at whatever the fuck she’s saying while she puts her hands on your man like she’s earned it. you felt a wave of emotions hit you all at once, sharp and low in your gut, this hot, twitchy anger that spikes so fast you almost laugh. it makes your blood fizz, and the possessiveness grabs you by the throat and won’t let go.

she’s touching him. her nails are on him. she’s acting like he’s hers, and the worst part? jisung’s too nice to even realize. you know that dumb, sweet smile of his, he probably thinks she’s just being friendly, and that’s what makes it all the more aggravating. because he wouldn’t even know if someone was trying to take what’s yours. not until you show him.

you walk up slow, a storm brewing under your skin, the harsh click of your heels echoing across the tile. jisung sees you halfway through uncoiling a cord, and his face instantly lights up.

“b-babe!” he stammers, voice cracking mid-syllable. “i-i didn’t know you were- wait, how’d you- i mean, hi!!”

he’s beaming. pink-cheeked. completely unaware he’s one second away from getting dragged.

you don’t even response. just stroll right up to him, grab him by the collar of his shirt, and pull him into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that has him staggering a little on his feet. he gasps into it, already melting, his hands scrambling to hold your waist, dropping everything he was carrying just to steady himself.

when you pull back, his lips are wet, pupils blown, and he’s blinking rapidly as if he’s in a dream.

“i left my charger in your bag,” you murmur, low and sweet.

“o-oh! right! i- yeah! i’ll get it in a sec—”

you turn your gaze back to the girl still awkwardly standing there, frozen with some rolled up lab poster in her hand, all the color from her face practically drained.

“do you need something?” you ask, sounding way too calm but you know it was anything but that.

she flinches. “uh, no. i was just.. i think i have to—”

“go?” you say, finishing her sentence for her, still smiling.

and she gets the message, fast. her eyes dart nervously toward the floor, stumbling over her own feet as she scurries off, muttering something about “finding the markers.”

you don’t spare her another glance as she leaves, only tightening your grip around jisung’s sweater, making sure he stays exactly where he is.

he looks at you, still dazed and confused as ever. his lips red from the kiss, cheeks blushing a fierce rose, breath coming out harder than it should.

“you think she’s pretty?” you ask flatly, like you’re daring him to say the wrong thing.

his head jerks back. “what? no. no- what? baby, no, i didn’t- i wasn’t even—”

“then why’d you let her touch you?”

he freezes.

“i-i didn’t mean to,” he stutters, eyes wide. “i didn’t even notice, i swear! i was just helping with the tables and she came over and asked for help with her poster and- and- i didn’t—”

“so you just let her lean all over you like that?” you interrupt, tone completely deadpan. “didn’t think i’d mind, huh?”

“no! no, i wasn’t thinking that at all, i- i didn’t even realize she was doing anything, i was just focused on the outlet and the tape was tangled and—”

you let go of his sweater and take a step back.

jisung looks devastated, his hands twitching, unsure if he’s allowed to reach for you.

“you know,” you say slowly, eyes never leaving his face, “i actually stopped to get you this stupid drink from that boba place you love. the one you make me walk two blocks past my own dorm for because they ‘use the better milk.’”

his face falls.

“i was being nice. i was coming to surprise you, jisung. and that’s what i walk in on?”

he looks like you just shot him in the chest. “please don’t be mad,” he whispers. “i didn’t mean anything, i wasn’t even thinking about her- i didn’t even talk to her before that, she just- please, baby, please—”

you step into his space again and he backs up instinctively, bumping into the nearest wall with a soft thud. his eyes are big and pleading, his mouth opens as if he wants to say more, but nothing comes out.

you stare up at him. he stares down at you like he’s waiting for a death sentence.

“where’s the nearest empty room?”

he swallows hard. “uh- the chem lab’s still locked but- uh- across the hall, the um- the earth science room, the back one with the—”

you grab his wrist and start dragging him before he can finish.

jisung stumbles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet trying to keep up, stammering, “w-wait, baby, where are we- i-i didn’t mean anything, i swear! i didn’t even look at her, please—”

you don’t answer, don’t say a word. instead you shove the door open, pull him inside, and slam it shut behind you, flipping the lock.

his breath catches as you turn around slow, standing there awkwardly, lips parted, shaking. you take a step toward him but he doesn’t move.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, voice so small. “please don’t be mad.”

you smile at that, but it wasn’t sweet, unforgiving.

“i’m not mad,” you murmur, reaching for his collar again. “i’m just gonna remind you who the fuck you belong to.”

and then you push him back, hard, until his shoulders collide with the whiteboard, and you sink your fingers into his hair.

jisung’s breath stutters. his mouth opens like he’s expecting a kiss. he tilts his chin down, glasses slightly fogged, lips parted, waiting.

you lean in like you’re going to give it to him, slow and soft. close enough that your breath brushes his cheek. your nose barely bumps his. you feel the tiniest sound catch in his throat— some pathetic, breathy little whine, but you don’t kiss him.

you shook your head.

“you really let her touch you like that?” you iterate, brushing your lips along his jaw instead. “stood there and let her giggle all over you like you’re single?”

his hands tremble at his sides. “i-i didn’t mean to baby, i-i didn’t think—”

“you didn’t think,” you repeat flatly, dragging your palm down his chest. “you never think.”

your hand slips lower, slow, and you feel him tense up when your fingers hover right over his belt.

jisung whimpers.

“so fucking dumb,” you mutter, eyes locked on his flushed face as you finally cup his cock through his jeans.

his whole body jolts.

“nngh, b-babe, fuck—” his head hits the whiteboard behind him, hips twitching into your palm without permission, and you laugh under your breath.

“already hard?” you pout mockingly. “you’re disgusting.”

“i-i can’t help it,” he chokes out. “i-it’s you, fuck, it’s always you—”

you start rubbing him through the denim. slow, mean little strokes. not enough to give him anything real, just enough friction to make him squirm.

his jeans are tight. his boxers are already soaked.

“bet you were half hard when she touched you,” you hiss, squeezing just a little. jisung shakes his head frantically.

“n-no! no, i swear, i wasn’t! i didn’t even notice, i was just- i was just trying to fix the- ah- fuck—” he whines when you rub your thumb over the tip, teasing the outline through the fabric.

you lean in, press your lips to his neck, still not kissing him.

“you gonna cum in your pants like a loser?” you tease. “just from me rubbing you a little through your jeans?”

he nods vigorously, his whole face flushed deep pink.

“i-i’m close- ‘m sorry, please, please let me—”

before he even gets the chance to reach his orgasm, you let go of him completely.

jisung lets out a noise like you knocked the wind out of him. he looks down at you in pure heartbreak, hips still twitching, cock aching.

you smile sweetly.

“oops.”

his mouth falls open. his pupils are blown. he looks one second away from crying.

you pull back, drop onto the edge of one of the desks, and tilt your head.

“get on your knees.”

jisung complies without a second thought, dropping so fast you think he might crack something. his palms hit the cold tile, glasses slipping down, already panting, looking up at you like he’s waiting for instructions.

you reach under your skirt and slide your panties off with two fingers, spread your legs, and motion toward the space between your thighs.

“you wanna make it up to me?” you murmur. “put that mouth to use.”

he nods so fast it’s pathetic.

he starts licking with urgency. tongue slow and shaky at first, then hungrier, lips wrapping around your clit like it’s the only thing grounding him. his moans vibrate against you. his hands grip your thighs tight enough to bruise.

you reach down and grab his phone from his back pocket.

he doesn’t even notice.

you open it— he never changed his password after giving it to you. sweet little idiot. you swipe to the camera, hit record, and tilt it down at his ruined, desperate face between your legs.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you say quietly, glancing at the screen. “might keep this one for later.”

jisung lets out a broken moan against your pussy, tongue pushing deeper, nose bumping your clit, his whole body pressed against the floor just to keep eating.

you bring the phone closer to his face. focus on his flushed cheeks. his spit-slick lips. the way his lashes flutter when your hand tugs his hair.

“should i post this?” you hum, playful. “let everyone see how messy you get for me?”

he doesn’t answer, he literally can’t. he’s too pussy drunk. too far gone. his eyes are rolled back a little, drool smeared on his chin, his own cock probably leaking all over the inside of his boxers and he doesn’t even care.

you giggle and zoom in a little closer.

“good boy.”

he moans so loud you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing again.

and you just let the camera keep rolling.

your thighs tighten around his head, and you rock your hips forward again— grinding down on his face, slow and mean, not even treating him as a person, just a thing for you to get off on. jisung groans into your cunt like it’s the only thing he knows. his tongue is buried deep, licking so desperately, like if he just does it a little better you might forgive him.

you lean forward, one hand bracing on the desk behind you, the other still holding his phone. still recording. the shaky frame shows the top of his head, his hair messy from your grip, your thighs caging him in. the audio’s picking up everything, your moans, his sloppy mouth, how wet you are all over his face.

“look at you,” you pant, voice breathy and cruel. “on your fucking knees, making a mess, just because i let you taste me.”

his hands are gripping your thighs so tight, knuckles white, his face buried so deep, every grind has you catching against the heat of his mouth, clit aching from how much you’re giving him. he’s shaking.

“you like this, huh?” you breathe, dragging your hips down harder, making him moan again. “you like when i use your dumb little face to get off?”

he whimpers into your pussy and nods, nods while still eating, tongue still fucking you through your clenching walls like he was made for this. he can’t talk. brain too fuzzy to function.

“you’re fucking pathetic,” you hiss. “bet you could cum just like this.”

his body jerks under you.

you grin.

“wait- oh my god.” your voice turns sweet, mocking. “are you about to cum in your boxers?”

he nods again, face red, eyes barely open. he’s whining, literally whining into your cunt.

you start grinding faster. the slick sounds are filthy, obscene. your clit drags across his nose with every roll of your hips and his tongue keeps fucking into you so deep it makes your legs shake.

he’s twitching now and you can feel it.

his moans get louder, more frantic. he’s so close, hips bucking slightly, his whole body spasming, cock untouched and straining against soaked fabric.

“go ahead,” you whisper, smiling wide. “cum like a loser.”

and he does.

his body shudders beneath you, and he lets out this high, broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, and you feel the way he cums untouched, cock pulsing in his ruined boxers, shaking so hard you have to grab his hair to keep yourself steady.

you don’t even stop.

you just keep riding his face, slower now, grinding through your own orgasm with your thighs locked tight around his ears, moaning into the classroom air like you don’t care who hears.

when your body finally stops trembling and the overstimulation passes, you gently lift yourself off his soaked, wrecked face, you look down at him— barely breathing, eyes dazed, lips swollen and shiny.

he’s still kneeling, chest is heaving, cheeks tear-streaked.

you don’t say anything at first. you just click the red button to end the video and toss his phone to the side, still unlocked on the camera roll.

then you drop down to your knees with him.

your hands come up to cradle his face, and he flinches, just a little. like he thinks you’re about to slap him, but you don’t.

instead, you kiss him. soft, slow, and warm.

his whole body sags into it like a whimpering dog. he kisses back instantly, desperate, lips trembling under yours, nose still wet with your arousal.

“you’re mine,” you whisper, brushing the hair from his forehead, voice suddenly so soft it makes him dizzy. “you understand me now?”

he nods. tears still in his lashes.

“you don’t let other girls touch you, ever.”

“i-i won’t,” he mumbles, voice wrecked. “i didn’t mean to, baby, i swear, i didn’t even look at her. i don’t want anyone else.”

“good,” you hum, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “because no one else is allowed to have you.”

jisung sniffles, arms winding weakly around your waist as he buries his face in your shoulder, still panting softly through his misty glasses.

you stroke his hair and kiss his temple like he didn’t just cum untouched with your pussy in his mouth, still trembling in your arms.

you kiss the edge of his jaw, and mutter, “next time you even breathe near another girl, i’ll fuck you in front of her.”

he nods, too fucked out to speak, lips parted like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a tiny whimper as he presses his face to your neck and whispers,

han jisung is always in your fucking house.

does he even have parents? a bed of his own? you honestly aren’t sure. it’s not like you could ask if you wanted to, because even though han jisung is always in your fucking house- he’s also always with your older brother.

“y/n, did you eat the last of mom’s leftovers?”

“no.”

“are you lying?”

“she looks like she’s lying, hyung. looks guilty.”

you roll your eyes, feeling the weight of annoyance spiking at a level only your brother and his best friend could conjure in your soul as you glance sideways at them. if your popcorn would just turn a little faster in the microwave, you could escape them so much quicker.

han jisung is the type of person that makes you question how he got there in the first place. you don’t remember meeting him, don’t remember your first impression or the first conversation you had. it’s like he’s just always been there, attached to chan’s hip and eating all the snacks in your parents’ pantry. chan treats jisung like the brother he never had, and in return jisung treats you like he’s the second brother you never asked for.

it really irks you- how he is always in your space, long legs taking up all the room on the couch, loud laughter and clapping hands carrying from chan’s room to your own across the hall. chan is irritating at times, as any sibling is, but jisung is irritating in entirely different ways.

example one: chan had always been a year above you in school. you never got to introduce yourself to your teachers, because they already knew you as chan’s little sister. he was the football captain, and the class president, and participated in so many extracurricular activities you felt your own head grow heavy at the thought of his daily schedule. everyone knew him, and everyone knew jisung- because jisung was always beside him.

jisung was co-captain, he was vice president, he was in every single club chan was. they both swear they never planned it, the same way they never planned to make you the world’s most lonely teenager ever. because no high school boy wants to mess with chan’s little sister- and the ones that were brave enough to try, dealt with jisung.

jisung, who threw his arm around you every time he saw you talking to a boy by the lockers. jisung, who turned down every date you were asked on before you could even open your mouth. han fucking jisung, who-

“so, you know your friend with the curly hair?” jisung speaks up, standing way too close, leaning his elbows against the counter beside you while you zone out to the hum of the microwave. your popcorn just started popping.

you glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “yes, i’m aware of her. you know, since she’s my friend and all. ”

jisung hums, biting into his pink bottom lip and looking up at you from his slouched, lazy posture. looking entirely too cocky, way too sure of himself. you blink, looking away before that mental image can get stuck in your head.

“is she single?” he asks, ignoring your scoff of discontent. when you don’t respond he follows up with a whine, drawn out and scratching at your eardrums. “come on- i’m asking for a friend!”

“what friend?” you shoot back, a little incredulous. “chan is the only friend you have!”

han fucking jisung- who is still the devil on your shoulder, even now.

chan graduated college last year. he moved back home, moved back in with your parents until he could find a place in the city- and you couldn’t even pretend to be shocked when jisung decided to move back home too. then, it was your turn to graduate college. and it was only a little embarrassing to fold all of your clothes into your childhood dresser three months ago, feeling better knowing that chan was in the exact same boat.

now it feels like you never moved out. because you still live in your parents’ house with your brother and jisung is still torturing you with his presence.

what makes everything about a billion times worse is that jisung got ripped while he was away at college. it’s obvious chan dragged him to the gym often, the muscled biceps underneath his tight black t shirt flexing with every move he makes. he isn’t some scrawny boy who wears hoodies that swallow him anymore- now he’s… grown up. taller, bigger, but still a pain in your neck. now, the added irritation of all of your friends commenting on how hot your brother’s best friend is just adds more insult to injury.

so, that’s how it goes. you wake up every morning, have your first cup of coffee in peace, and let your mind wander without a path to follow. with your parents gone most of the time, enjoying each other’s company now that they (in theory) have an empty nest, there’s no one around to tell you not to use the good mugs- whatever that means- and there’s no one to break the quiet comfort of silence in the mornings.

that is, until jisung knocks on your front door.

chan is never awake in time to answer, so it’s your duty to be the designated greeting card. you know it’s jisung, because it’s always jisung; when you open the door it’s with a loud groan, as if your peace has been shattered into tiny little shards of what once was. really, it has.

“good morning to you too, gorgeous.” jisung hums, even throws in a wink when he squeezes past you to enter the space. as if he lives there, too.

“chan isn’t awake,” you mumble as you always do, running a hand through your hair and sipping your coffee. it scalds your tongue, still way too hot, but it’s a better alternative to whatever jisung wants to ramble about today.

“oh! i actually meant to tell you- guess who i saw yesterday?” jisung is grinning, sharp white teeth on display. you fight a cold chill that makes you want to shiver, crossing your arms under your chest as you blankly look back at him.

“please tell me who you saw yesterday, i’m on the edge of my seat,” you drawl lazily, monotoned. jisung chuckles as if he is winning an impromptu standoff, as if he’s never lost anything in his life. suddenly, you feel the spike of nerves in your stomach. jisung is always bad to be around, but he’s hellish when he has a secret he knows you want to know.

“i saw lee felix,” he hums out, grinning wider, eyes flicking down your body in slow motion, as if he wants to take the time to savor your reaction and watch the twitch in your fingertips.

you try not to react- you really try. but the flush you feel warming your cheeks and the furrow in your brow can’t be hidden. once again, you’re irate because of han jisung. naturally.

“you mean the guy you lied to about me not being single junior year of high school?” you huff, biting your cheek to stop your anger from slipping into your tone. jisung looks like he is entirely too pleased with himself. “the guy you didn’t correct when he assumed you and i were together? the guy i had a major crush on?”

jisung hums an affirmative sound, resting against the back of the couch behind him, mimicking the cross of your arms with his own muscular ones. you feel your grip tighten on your mug.

“exactly! and you know what he asked me?” jisung raises an eyebrow, tongue pressed between rows of pearly white teeth peeking out of his mouth. you feel the sudden intrusive thought to throw your scalding coffee at him, wipe the cocksure grin from the corners of his lips.

through gritted teeth you decide to humor him. “what did lee felix ask you, jisung?”

and his grin turns sharper- eyes narrowing, pushing off the back of the couch to step an inch closer to you. you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath hitches in your chest, hope he can’t hear the way your heartbeat is loud in your ears. you have to look up to meet his eye, trapped between his muscled chest and the wall behind you.

“he asked me if you were as good of a fuck as he imagined you to be.”

tv static is taking up all of the space in your head that usually holds your wit, your sharp tongue dulled under the all-encompassing heat in jisung’s stare. if you had any thoughts to spare, you would be asking yourself what the hell is happening. because this isn’t the usual, annoying and protective act you were used to jisung pulling. this isn’t the same as him telling every boy you’ve ever met that he bites- jisung is looking down at you with an intensity behind his dark brown baby doe eyes that makes him look less like prey, more like the thing doing the hunting.

you have to ask yourself, what the hell is wrong with me? because even after all these years of jisung being the thing haunting your every waking moment, your thighs still clench together when he pushes closer. you still feel the way your eyes fight not to flutter closed when his cologne hits your nose, something that smells like roses and petrichor. you feel the pulse of want curl into the base of your stomach, thinking his hands look so much bigger now, wrapped around vein-ridden biceps with crossed arms, thinking about all the ways his hands could engulf you-

jisung is pulling away quickly, and by the time you complete a series of blinks he is leaning against the couch again, phone in hand, casual as ever. you’re about to ask him if you had experienced a hallucination, mouth open but brain not quite working yet, when you hear it: footsteps, slow and dragging down the hall upstairs.

chan comes down the stairs groggy, eyes half closed and curly hair sticking up all over his head. he’s scratching his chest, yawning and barely glancing at your disheveled state before hitting jisung lightly on the arm to get his attention.

“hey man, you still staying here tonight?” chan asks, already retreating back up the steps with jisung tailing him, feet softly thumping the staircase.

“yeah, if that’s cool. dad is having a poker game tonight, he’ll force me to play with his buddies and lose all my money.” you hear the echo of jisung’s chuckle, but you don’t process the words. your brain is still on loop, repeating jisung is staying here tonight over and over again uselessly.

jisung has stayed the night with chan countless times. like previously mentioned, you’re not convinced he even has a house of his own. jisung waking up and descending the stairs of your home is just as normal of an occurrence as chan being here. but-

but. your body is still hot. your thighs are still clenching, as if to get a hold on your bodily reaction to him being as close as he was. he didn’t even do anything- just pushed hot air from his lips, let it hit your neck, just leaned in far too close.

and it’s not like you’re some blushing, virgin mary. your body count isn’t in double digits, but it’s more than one. you like to tease and flirt and let people stutter through trying to do the same in return. you like it when people fawn over you, biting their lips nervously and ducking their head down when they ask you out. so what about the situation that occurred less than five minutes ago made you have such a violent, embarrassing reaction?

you shake your head, using the excuse that it’s just… ovulation. probably. never mind the fact that your period isn’t due for another three weeks, it has to be some weird bodily hormone that makes you feel like opening your legs wide and begging- whatever.

you focus on carrying on as normal, business as usual. you video chat with your best friend, listening to him complain about an art critic who reviewed his favorite piece at the local gallery and totally missed the point. you shower, apply your favorite skin care routine and braid your hair, anything to keep your mind pleasantly busy. anything to keep you from gritting your teeth when you hear the loud claps of laughter from the other side of the hall.

your bed seems so much more comfortable than usual, letting your body sink into the mattress with a sigh of relief. it’s a couple hours earlier than you would usually go to sleep, but the events of this morning made you run circles in your head that exhausted you. so with the moon still rising and the sky just turning completely dark, you close your eyes and try not to think.

and of course, han jisung doesn’t let you know peace. even in your dreams, your mind replays the way he never quite touched you this morning. your mind wanders to thoughts of what it would have felt like if he had- if he had gripped your waist with one large hand, warm palm running up and down your ribs in a faux gesture of innocent intent. would he lure you in gently, like a cat waiting for the right moment to descend with fangs? or would he be mean from the start, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth just to hear the way you whine and see how fast your skin breaks?

the thoughts manifest as visions, dreams of honey skin and a heart shaped mouth. then you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly, and that doesn’t feel like a vision at all. it feels real, so real you flutter your eyes open with a squint of confusion.

“hey- there you are,” a low voice, sleep-ridden and scratched, murmurs from above. you swallow the whine trapped in your throat from left over sleep, blinking up to see… han jisung. as if you conjured him from your dreams. of course.

“you were talking in your sleep,” he says next, chuckling after. “nightmare?”

you shake your head, waking up more and more. jisung’s hand is still pressed lightly to your bare shoulder, warm and engulfing. his fingertip rests under your tank top strap.

“wasn’t a nightmare,” you mumble, watching him shift to squat next to you, eye-level. “what are you doing up?”

“bathroom,” he shrugs. “heard you on my way back to chan’s room.”

then jisung is looking at you- really looking, taking in the position your body is in and the flush on your cheeks. the blanket is only covering you from the waist down, too warm in your room to have it up any further. when jisung’s eyes flit down to where your legs are hugging one of your pillows, his head tilts to the side.

“not a nightmare, hm?” he murmurs, phrasing the question in a way that doesn’t want a response. his hand trails down your arm, making you fight off a shiver when his fingers grip the blanket at your waist lightly. “you know, this pillow between your legs is all rumpled up. were you using it?”

then you feel the blanket move down, slowly revealing your hip and the exposed skin of your thigh. you vaguely register that you aren’t wearing pants, too hot to bother with anything more than the underwear clinging to your skin. and jisung is taking in a breath, hitched and amused like he just confirmed his own suspicion. when you glance down you can’t see much, but the moonlight filtering through your window highlights the dark patch of cloth amongst your clean pillow case- right where you suppose you were grinding into it, right where your pussy is clenching at having been caught.

“you know, i only came in here because i thought i heard you say my name,” jisung is grinning. he pulls the blanket further down your thighs, off of your legs, and rakes his gaze back up to your eyes. despite the warmth of your room, you shiver. “were you saying my name, baby?”

baby, baby, baby- playing on loop in his low, scratchy voice. jisung has never called you that, has never looked at you with so much unabashed desire. and his hand moves again, gripping your hipbone in a way that’s almost soft, fingers digging into the space around your hip like he wants to carve out its shape.

“i wasn’t-“ you whisper, shaking your head like you could possibly deny what he so clearly heard. jisung grins like that’s exactly what he wanted you to say.

“oh, you weren’t saying my name?” he hums, brow raised, fingers digging into you just an inch harder. “so i didn’t hear sungie, need you, need your co-“

he’s whining and moaning loud enough to make you panic, hand slapping over his mouth to shut him up. you feel your breath stutter when he doesn’t put up a fight, just looks at you from behind your own hand. you listen for the telltale thump of chan’s feet, but the house outside of your room is silent. jisung wraps his fingers around your wrist, engulfing it, and pulls you away. not far- your hand is resting on his jaw now, only moving you enough so he can speak.

“he’s asleep, you know?” jisung bites into his lip, head tilting back towards the door. you scoff and pull your wrist out of his grip.

“and what are you going to say when he wakes up and comes looking for you? when he finds you in his little sister’s room trying to- seduce her?” you hiss, flustered at the situation. all you get in return is a raised brow and the amused quirk of jisung’s lips.

“come on, baby. you know better than anyone how deep he sleeps. the house could be set on fire and he wouldn’t wake up until the flames hit his foot.”

you don’t have a rebuttal this time. you know jisung has a point, but it’s still so, so wrong. jisung is chan’s best friend, if he ever found out you would both be six feet under. chan would never speak to either of you ever again.

but jisung is right in front of you. he is standing to his feet slowly, like he is afraid to move too quickly and scare the small, feral animal in front of him. your breath hitches sharply when he turns your body, hands guiding you until you’re laying on your back and he can crawl onto the bed. his knees land between your legs, your body responding and legs spreading open even as you think of all of the horrible ways you could be caught.

jisung lets out a long, slow exhale from his parted lips as he looks down at you. your tank top has rumpled up in your sleep, laying right above your stomach, and the hand that lays on your ribs feels so big in comparison. you bite your lip as his hand travels lower, dipping under the waistline of your soaked panties to pull and tug upwards at the material.

jisung groans, “god- you’re so fucking pretty, baby. it’s not fair.”

“what’s not fair?” you mumble, half-dazed and fighting a whine at the way the material of your underwear slides against your sensitive clit.

“you get to walk around like this all the time,” jisung whispers, gaze never leaving your pussy- like he doesn’t want to miss a single twitch of your hips. “and i have to pretend i don’t think about how tight this little cunt would be wrapped around my cock.”

the whine that leaves your lips is one of pure desperation, making your hand slap over your mouth to avoid being heard. jisung flicks his eyes toward the head of the bed, gaze meeting yours, as he tilts his head to the side.

“you like that, rockstar?” jisung asks in a quiet hum, palming his bulge over his sweatpants. he uses his other hand to tease your clit over your thin panties, thumb rubbing over the bundle of nerves ever so lightly. “like when i tell you what you do to me? what i think about when im sleeping in the next room over?”

you nod, bordering on desperate as your hips kick up. jisung groans under his breath, bringing his now slick thumb to his lips and sucking at the digit. then a sigh leaves his mouth, hands moving to pull at the hem of his pajamas.

“can’t fuck you tonight, sweet girl.” he mumbles, leaving you to decide if you want to scoff or cry at the denial. “you’re already so loud, you’ll be screaming if i stick it in. but we can still have fun, yeah? i’ll make you feel good, baby. don’t worry.”

jisung barely gives time for your foggy brain to process the words, sliding his sweats and underwear down to mid thigh and leaving you to gape at his hard cock like a woman starved. jisung is, like, ridiculously big. how did he manage to hide that with all those baggy hoodies? you feel your pussy throb and clench at the mere thought of feeling him stretch you open.

and jisung doesn’t stop- he brings himself closer, spreads your legs so they are wide open and lifted to your chest. one large hand is pressed to the back of your thigh, holding you open, while the other gives lazy attention to his glistening length.

“sung, please-“ you whisper, feeling hot all over and almost possessed. you need him, bad. jisung knows that, too. he knows and all he does to placate you is grin out of the corner of his mouth and grind his hips in a slow, dirty roll forward.

the feeling of his cock, hard and pulsing against your dripping slit with only the dainty fabric of your sheer underwear to separate you, makes you tip your head back in a helpless whimper. he keeps going, grinding his length forward in lazy rolls of his hips, the head of his cock pushing against your clit in a way that makes your head spin. you’re already soaked, panties dripping wet to aid in the glide of jisung’s length, and you can’t help the little gasps leaving your mouth as your hips buck forward.

“ah- yeah baby, just like that,” jisung pants, one arm resting by your head while the other keeps your thigh held up. he grinds into you faster, matching the stuttered pace of your own hips as he bends down to lay messy, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. “keep moving those hips, rockstar. making me feel so good.”

you whimper softly, near pathetic, as your head tilts to the side to give jisung more access to your neck. his mouth moves constantly, licking and biting at the skin with a reckless sort of desperation. he’s wet, too- you can feel the precum dripping from his tip smear against your panties, soaking through to your clit with the rest of the mess you’ve made.

“sung, please- want more,” you whine out, arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his shoulders. he curses, hips bucking harder before he pulls away slightly to look at you.

and you’re a mess. panting for breath, tank top tucked up to rest just under your tits, face and neck flushed, underwear clinging to your soaked cunt and throbbing with need. jisung bites his lip harshly, causing a white indent on the flesh. when he gives his length a slick pump, the sound makes you both whine.

“shit, okay. can’t fuck you but- just a little more,” he’s breathing out, sliding your ruined panties to the side. he groans at the sight, your pussy glistening in the low light as he uses his thumbs to spread you open. you can’t help but clench as his eyes land on your needy hole, moaning a little too loud when long, deft fingers dip inside of you just slightly.

“baby, rockstar-“ jisung is huffing against your ear, fingertips barely pushing in and out of your entrance. “you’re soaked. do you always get this wet, or do you just like me that much, hm?”

you can’t help the whine that leaves you, feeling so on edge but not getting enough stimulation to push you over, embarrassed at the thought of jisung knowing just how much he affects you. “just for you, ji. no one else.”

a moan from above, soft and airy, followed by an equally soft, “good fucking girl.”

jisung’s fingers flit over you, grazing your throbbing clit before lining his leaking cock back up. the feeling of bare skin sliding against bare skin, his slick length nudging your clit and the wet sounds of each roll of your hips makes your whines grow an octave higher. jisung is there to tease you, as always. leaning back into your space, panting into you ear as his length throbs on your pussy, up and down and up and down.

“gotta be quiet rockstar, remember? wouldn’t wanna wake channie-hyung up, would you?”

you remember the situation you’re in with startling clarity. chan, your older brother, in the next room over. jisung, his best friend, sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night and finding you a pathetic, needy mess. somehow, the idea of being caught like this, with jisung over you and his length sliding between your slit, makes you feel that much closer.

“god, please i-“ you break off your begging to moan when the tip of jisung’s cock catches against your entrance- not entering you, but so close. “need you, ji. need you to fuck me, please-“

“shh, sh, sh, baby. how am i supposed to fuck you like this, hm? already so wet, fuck- i’d bust as soon as i stretched you open on it.”

you feel tears build up in your eyes at being denied again, hole clenching at the empty feeling even though you feel so good from the stimulation his hips provide. your clit is hyper-sensitive, every press and push against it making your thighs twitch and shake more. you don’t realize the tears have spilled from your lash line until you feel jisung’s tongue, hot and so wet, sliding against your cheek to clean you up.

“oh, what am i gonna do with you?” jisung is whispering, almost to himself, shuddering into your skin. “fine, shit- okay. just the tip, alright?”

you blink through the daze in your mind, giving jisung a look that attempts a blank stare. “did you learn that from porn, sungie?”

he responds with a scoff, an incredulous raise of his brows. “i mean it! just the tip, baby. no more, wanna hear you scream properly the first time i sink all the way into you.”

oh. yeah, okay.

you feel heat roll through your body, jisung not even moving away from kissing your cheeks and neck as he lines his hard cock up with your entrance, running the tip of his length up and down your slit. finally, finally, pushing inside.

jisung feels huge inside you- after being teased relentlessly for what felt like hours, his cock finally stretching your walls open felt like heaven. but as he said, he thrusts only the tip inside.

“ngh- god, rockstar. you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” jisung is whining, panting against your collarbone. “so tight, trying to suck me in all the way.”

all you can do is muffle your moans against jisung’s shoulder, nails digging into the skin of his lower back where his shirt has ridden up and legs wrapping around his narrow hips. you can feel the ridges on his length, the head of it pressing into you just barely past your entrance before pulling out again. it’s so much, it’s not enough- at this rate you feel the urge to flip positions and push yourself so far down on jisung’s cock you can feel it in your stomach. but your body is useless, thighs trembling from the continued barely-there stimulation, and jisung is murmuring against your ear again.

“wanna know what i said to felix, baby?” he’s asking with a sharp inhale, remembering your conversation from earlier. you’re tempted to scream, tell him you don’t care what he said to felix, you don’t care about felix- or anyone else, for that matter. all you can think about is jisung, jisung, jisung, and the way he could be filling you up so deliciously right now if he would just go a little bit further.

instead, you speak around the whine in your throat. “what?”

jisung fights to keeps his words steady in between little aborted grinds of his hips, fat head of his cock pushing inside you again and again. his hands wandering to your hips, squeezing fingers hard enough to leave indented bruises in their wake.

“he asked me what you felt like, if you were a good- fuck. and i said,” a moan, burying his head in your neck and muffling his words just barely. “said you were the best fuck of my life, rockstar. shit- so tight, so hot- swallowing my cock like this little pussy is starving for it. told him- all he could do was fist his dick and imagine it, you know why?”

jisung pauses the small, fast thrust of his hips. you can’t breathe, can only feel the head of his cock resting at your entrance, barely inside, spreading your folds open. you throb, clenching around the small amount of his length inside you, and his exhale is stuttered before he finishes rambling.

“‘cause you’re mine to fuck, baby. and i’m the only one that gets to make you cry like this.”

there’s a large palm pressing over your mouth as jisung buries his head in the side of your neck, muffling his own long, drawn out groan as he pushes his thick cock inside you- all the fucking way. the hand at your lips barely offers reprieve when you scream, eyes clenching shut at the feeling of finally being so full and stretched open around jisung’s length. delirious, you think you can feel the bulge of it in your lower stomach.

jisung can’t control his hips anymore, biting the skin where your shoulder and neck meet to keep himself somewhat muffled as he snaps in and out of you at a rapid pace, never leaving your soaked pussy more than halfway. your legs are barely holding onto jisung’s hips, ankles weakly hooked at his back, and you pant harshly into the hand around your mouth.

“so, fucking, good-“ jisung moans by your ear, voice low and gravelly and dripping with that same desperate need you feel clawing up your spine. it’s almost too much- the all encompassing stimulation you get to have so suddenly after being teased with the lightest touches for so long. jisung does what he does best, and he makes matters so much worse.

deft fingers reach your clit, throbbing and sensitive to any touch. the response is immediate, lightning curling your toes and making you yelp into the palm over your mouth. jisung chuckles, half breathless and half manic, continuing to ramble on in your ear.

“that’s right rockstar, just keep shaking,” he moans, fingers circling your clit in fast little figure eights. you feel the spark of pleasure in your gut grow bolder, louder, and know you’re close. jisung must know too, you can feel his teeth against your neck as he keeps his pace, hips slamming into you, fingers working you over until your eyes are rolling back and stars are dotting your vision.

the moan that leaves your mouth would surely be loud enough to wake chan up if not for jisung’s hand muffling it. he curses quick, hips stuttering before he’s cumming too- inside you, filling your cunt up in a way that makes you shiver through the last of your own orgasm. jisung thrusts again, riding out his high in a slower, syrupy grind, before he pulls out with one last sigh.

you can feel his release leaking out of your spent pussy, whimpering as the warm air hits your soaked core. jisung moans softly, almost pitifully, thumb running through the mess leaking out of you and smearing it along your slit. then, he has the audacity to pull your panties back into place over the mess. with a quick pat to your ruined underwear and a kiss to your forehead he stands.

the wink he throws you is absurdly nerdy, using both eyes to do so. you roll your eyes but can’t help the fond smile on your face as he pulls the blanket back over you.

“sweet dreams, rockstar.” he whispers, kissing your lips once more and sinking his teeth into the lower one in a tease. you pout as he walks away, looking back at you once more to give a wide grin before dipping out of the room. you hear the soft close of chan’s door before you drift off again, body spent but mind quiet and a small, content smile gracing your lips.

when you wake up, it is to aching muscles and a content, quiet buzz in your head. you stretch, groaning at the sheer amount of bones that pop in your body, before getting up and getting ready for the day. blushing, you remember the messy state your body was left in, showering to get rid of the worst of it. the bruises on your hips and collarbone won’t wash away, but you smile at them before covering them up. you hope they never fade.

downstairs, the house is alive with the sound of two deep voices. you must have slept longer than anticipated, for once waking up after chan. you descend the stairs with your heart beating in your throat, nervous and hoping chan doesn’t immediately clock the sinful thoughts in your head.

“y/n! you slept in late,” chan hums, glancing up from the video game he and jisung are in the middle of. jisung doesn’t tear his eyes away from his character on the screen, but there’s a small twitch to his lips that makes your thighs clench just slightly.

“morning,” you mumble, pouring scalding coffee into one of your favorite mugs. you shuffle into the living room, criss-crossing your legs in the armchair to the left of the couch in use. you don’t know who is playing what character, but isabelle is kicking donkey kong’s ass.

once a winner is announced chan sighs, grinning and allowing jisung to tease him for his apparent loss. then chan turns to you, making his best friend do the same, and you fight the flush threatening to announce suspicion.

“by the way, were you having a nightmare last night?” chan asks, you blinking dumbly at him in response. jisung coughs beside him, poorly attempting to hide the snort of laughter that almost bubbled up.

“no. why?” you ask, fighting to remain normal and like the picture of nonchalance. chan shrugs, turning back to the television like he is none the wiser. he switches his character from donkey kong to link. jisung picks a weird red dragon.

“i was half asleep so i could’ve imagined it, i just thought i heard you talking. sounded like a nightmare,” chan says, mostly focused on the start of a new round.

you hum noncommittally, watching jisung’s character hit a fast combo and KO link. while waiting for chan to respawn, jisung catches your eye with a bitten lower lip that hides a cocky, satisfied grin. he clears his throat softly, throwing his hand up to run through messy hair. on the way back to holding his controller, jisung sneaks his hand to the side of his neck and taps the skin there, flicking his gaze down to your own neck.

your breath hitches when you touch the skin there, feeling the faint thrum of pain from a bruise you know is visible. you raise the collar on your shirt to cover it, quickly looking back to the tv when the next round starts.

“you should try to get more sound sleep,” jisung is speaking now, shrugging like he’s just making conversation. you can only watch his slim fingers flit over the buttons on his controller out of the corner of your eye, ears ringing. “they say working up a sweat beforehand helps you sleep like a baby.”

chan nods, barely paying attention to the conversation as he curses under his breath at the game. jisung glances at his best friend, glancing at you after, and winks.

“if you ever need a tip, just let me know, y/n. i always have time to help.”

han fucking jisung will never stop being a problem. that thought doesn’t feel as heinous as it once had.

a/n: hello lovebugs :3 :3

i can’t help it really i can’t the parasites in my brain take over and move my stupid little thumbs in a way that just writes perv hanji without me even knowing until i see the finished product in my drafts i swear

as always,, requests are open!! i promise i will eventually post the requests that are pending… i just have a worm in my noggin, as previously mentioned

☆ taglist ☆

Being self aware of a power you hold is revolutionary. But it’s an even greater feeling seeing your bank account balance go up each time you put a brat in her place. Ask Sunghoon, he’d know better than anyone.

While you should never ask a person how or where they get their money from, people never seem to listen and it wasn’t long until people realized the magical touch of Sunghoon’s hands that took care of those bratty attitudes from snarky girls—taken by relationships or not.

Sunghoon has more of an interesting business per se than most people do at his age. It all started with a one time favor for a friend and receiving said friend’s small payment for his 'service' made him realize this could be something big.

Then when another call came in with an even larger payment offering for his service after being referred to him. It spiraled from there on out that he couldn't keep track anymore of the incoming calls and money being deposited into his account.

It was only then that he realized life was finally starting to look up for his money struggling self to the point that if anyone had a bratty girlfriend with an attitude out of this world, send them to Sunghoon and he would be more than happy to help.

That was until he hit a stump when Jay called late at night declaring a frantic code white.

He doesn’t even know how to begin to react now that his very own best friend was in dire need of his ‘service' for you, Jay's very much pampered girlfriend.

It wasn’t rocket science to know what had to be done in order to put you in your place. All it takes is fuck you the way you want to be fucked— which is like the spoiled rich brat and all should be done.

Well, it was easier said than done.

Having Jay calling him dead of night repeating the sacred protocol was quick to snap him off the drowsy high horse and with a gruff voice could only mutter, “Bring her over” before cutting the call off with no room for argument

At first Sunghoon wondered how his best friend would get you to come to his place so late but you weren’t his problem. You will be Jay’s up until you’re standing in front of him instead, kneeling to the floor, looking up at him with wet eyes and a quivering lip as you beg for him.

There was no rule against his books of helping out with his best friend’s girlfriend but, there was just one rule that he won’t ever cross.

He will never sleep with any of his clients. No exceptions to this policy.

Until now that you become the one anomaly in his clean streak.

It took less than 30 minutes before his best friend stumbled through his door with you trailing behind him with folded arms and a reluctant huff.

“A knock would’ve been okay” Sunghoon is startled out of his room, almost falling back asleep when he hears the ruckus in his living room

“Sorry. It’s just that… This is urgent” Jay whispers as he peeks behind his shoulder, seeing you plop yourself to the couch while you scroll through your phone with a cheerful smile after adding another item to the online cart

“So I heard” Sunghoon takes a look to see you laying on your stomach on his coach like you lived here, “You used our special code for this” You’ve only been over his place a handful of times so you definitely don’t have the comfortability of acting like you pay the bills

“Mind filling me with what happened?” That question alone made the vein pop from Jay’s neck as he sucked in a sharp breath and took a lap around in a circle, “Or not? I don’t want you popping a vessel, blood will be such a hassle to get out of the floor”

“She spent nearly 20 grand. Two zero fucking thousand dollars on my card today just like that” Jay snapped his finger in a scoff, “Can you believe that?”

“Did she buy herself a car?” Sunghoon blinked harshly with a hushed response making sure you didn’t hear their conversation

“I don’t even want to know- I haven’t even checked, that’s how bad it is. All I know is that the payment won’t go through without my authorization” His best friend rubbed his tensed forehead and Sunghoon almost felt sorry for him

Emphasis on the word almost, “You do know this is because of your doing right?” Jay snapped his gaze towards him at the brutal slap to the face but not once did Sunghoon flinch at the hard glare from his friend

“Look what I mean is, you’ve spoiled her badly ever since you guys started dating. Even before that you were pampering her like a doll”

He could see his best friend not having his words. He sighed heavily and put his hands up in defeat. “All I’m saying are two things. One, I very much told you so, from the start Jay” Sunghoon points towards his friend who’s attention drifted away in guilt, “Now it’s coming to bite you back in the ass and there’s nothing you can do about it”

“And the second thing?” Jay gruffed through gritted teeth because if there was anymore he hated than being wrong, it was being proven wrong by Sunghoon

“What’s my limit?”

There was silence. Jay knew what the question meant. The permission of how far his best friend could go with you.

Many thoughts crossed his mind but one thing for certain was that you wouldn’t mind letting Sunghoon have his way with you. The only thing was that you wouldn’t know what you were getting into until it was too late.

“Anything that stops her from acting out like this anymore”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched when he heard his best friend’s words. “Do you know what that means? Because I can promise you, I have a clear idea how to deal with this but you might not like it”

“How much do I owe you Sunghoon?” Jay was already taking out his wallet and flipping through cards before pushing one out to the other who shook his head instantly

“I have a deal going on where the helpless cases are free of charge, you being my first and last customer on that deal” Sunghoon pushed the card back, “Plus are you even sure you can cover it if I did charge you?”

Putting his card away with a smug smirk and pocketing the wallet, Jay looks back up at Sunghoon with a laugh, “Oh please her careless expenses barely put a dent into my pocket”

“Maybe you should look into becoming a deadbeat to save your money and the hassle of being put through this again” Jay shakes his head as he walks past his friend towards you who looks up with sparkling eyes

“Seongie! Look! They have this cute new set I think you will like a lot” You pushed the phone in his face but frown when he pushes it down and places a soft kiss to your forehead

“Doll, I need to do a few things and I’ll come back and get you in the morning” The pads of his finger crease your cheek but you tilt your head to the side to shake him off, “Oh love don’t be like that”

“Why are you leaving? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know you haven’t, it’s just that Hoon here is going to have a talk with you is all” But you’re already shaking your head no at your boyfriend in rejection

“Go ahead Jay. I can take it from here” Sunghoon interjects with a hand on his shoulder to make his friend reluctantly pull from you

“This is unfair, I didn’t even waste a lot of money! You make that back in a day” There was a moment of confliction flickering over Jay’s eyes and with the only chance Sunghoon had, he kicked Jay out of his place

The other male took one last glance at you who still refused to look at him now when the door closed shut. Jay sighs heavily and could only hope this means the end of your bratty attitude.

“Sunghoon, bring him back here right now” You kick the couch but don’t even attempt to chase after your boyfriend

“Now that’s not a nice way to ask me” Sunghoon rubbed his eyes to wake himself up before running a finger over his thick eyebrows

“Well good thing I’m not asking you” The roll of your eyes made Sunghoon’s hands twitch at his side instantly, “I’m telling you to get him”

“You’re cute if you think this is how it’s going to work” The dark chuckle leaving past the rosy plush lips made you hold back but failed when he took a large stride over until he was right in front of you

His face is closer to you than any other time you’ve been within the same vicinity as him, “I’m not your boyfriend who you can just order around”

Your face burns under your skin as your frown grows, “Good thing you aren’t. I wouldn’t want you as my boyfriend anyway” You point a finger to his chest and try to ignore the firmness of it, “You wouldn’t know how to handle me”

Watching the corners of his lips tug upwards into a smirk, his hand hovering over your skin softly now harshly grabbed your jaw making you squeal and he let out a rumbling laugh. “Please your own boyfriend can’t even handle you”

The pads of his thumb softly crease your cheek as he stares at your lips before looking up to catch your wavering eyes, “I’m the only one that can take so much of your bullshit”

You grunt when you push his chest to break free from the hold but it is futile when he grips harder at your chin. Your gaze flickers around and you finally take notice of his outfit. A fitted black tee that every crevice of his muscles popped through, some form of gray sweatpants, slightly tussled bed hair and his sleepy eyes replaced with a burning gaze.

“What did you waste it on?”

“Waste what?” The words slurred between your squished cheeks as he held you

“Jay’s money. Nearly 20 thousand dollars in what?” Sunghoon’s smirk grew wider when you stayed silent at first, you avoided his lingering gaze and he knew he already had you, “Was it worth it?”

“Screw you, I just needed to buy a few things” Your anger taking over you, “Jay doesn’t complain when he sees what I’m buying”

This makes him laugh out loud, you frown at the hard laughter bouncing off the walls. “So you waste Jay’s money in what? Bras? Lingerie sets that he’s going to rip off you either way”

As you try to hide the warmth under your cheeks, Sunghoon digs his fingers into the hollowness of your sucked face. His eyes no longer warm and welcome like how they usually were.

He managed to see right through you that there was no point in denying the obvious.

“Alright let’s see them”

“What?” You stare at him in shock when he lets go of your face to walk away

“I’m asking to see what the big fuss is about” Sunghoon motions with a finger towards your still figure, “These panties better be covered in some exotic lace with gold embroidered into them”

You laugh in his face after trying to hold it in from the moment he opened his mouth. Which was very clear he didn’t appreciate that—not in the slightest.

“Why would I give the luxury of showing you?” Your tone of voice growing more confident and sure you had the upper hand

“I knew it” Sunghoon’s brows crease in confusion when you point at him again, “You have the hots for me”

The preplanned words die on your tongue when you finally catch Sunghoon’s glare straight on you. He took a seat on the couch, his back leaned back to the cushion as an arm extended on top of the leather and a leg kicked over his knee with a sly smirk.

“You sure you want to keep going?” He groaned and your thighs unconsciously squished together watching him pushing out his hips, legs spreading out where you unmistakenly notice something you definitely shouldn’t have

However, you saw the way he looked at you now, such an unexplainable shimmer. “How messy of you to look at me that way Hoonie” Your grown confidence was thrown out the window just like how you were thrown over his lap in a blink of an eye.

“Don’t go around throwing out that nickname if you aren’t ready for the consequences- Oh wait! Consequences don’t count to you, right princess?” Sprawled over his lap, you were rigid. The instinct fight or flight response diminished into nothing when you felt his hand ghost over your shoulders

The warmth radiating off of Sunghoon’s hand trailing over your back made goosebumps rise everywhere. It was daunting the way he hasn’t even laid a single finger on you, yet, somehow manages to burn you.

“You can run, you know” He whispers softly just enough for you to hear, “Jay will be bursting down my door if you call” You on the other hand don’t make any attempt

Oh. Oh.

He says it with no ill intent but has a revelation when you stay silent.

“Guess you’re out of luck today” His tone of voice drops lower as his hands finally land on your lower back

Sunghoon’s slender fingers trail over your waistband in a teasing manner, you tense up over his lap when he applies pressure of his finger to slip under the elastic but never fully doing it.

Shaking your lower half didn’t achieve the outcome you wanted when he pulled his fingers away to hook under your chin. Met with his devilish grin, that looks like he can do all the wrong in the world, “You keep moving sweetheart, scared?”

Flickering your eyes to the side just enough to catch a glimpse of him in the corner of your eyes to him looming over you. “Do I have to be?” Your voice became meek and soft in that instant

He didn’t reply but instead tapped the side of your cheek with his index finger, craning your neck just a bit more to have you facing him. Eyes narrowed at you with a certain glint and a permanent smirk that never seemed to leave.

“Can I?” The question was imposing where his fingers lightly trace at the start of your pants, slightly pulling up to reveal the tag of them and hooking his finger there to tug on

“Hoon-”

“What did I say about the nicknames? Don’t use them if you aren’t ready for the consequences” Sunghoon cuts you off making you thin out your lips out to keep quiet

His thumb softly creases the exposed skin from your shirt riding up and allows you to pull your head away to watch you dip it right in between your shoulders, away from his gaze.

“Hoonie” Sunghoon raised a brow when you called him a foreign nickname, he let go of the pants’ tag and it aligned itself back to where it was before, nestled into your lower back

You bury your head further down and hide away from the burning glare but his presence grew more ominous when you felt his breath graze the side of your face to your ear. “Don’t worry there sweetheart… Jay gave me permission”

“Now do you?”

“Yes! Yes!” Your shriveled cry accompanied by your rapid nodding filled his chest with an unexplained pride

Hooking his finger to gather every inch of fabric on your lower body and yank it down without much of your help, quickly exposing you.

Listening to his silent hiss as he traces the lace of your panties was what filled you with pride.“This is what the big fuss is about?” Sunghoon pulls at the side and allows it to smack against your skin when he lets go. your pride was snapped away instantly. “They’re cute I guess”

“Excuse me?” A wave of distastefulness from his comment made you mad, “They’re way better than just cute. And you were the one so desperate to see them either way” You tried to inch off his lap and onto the couch to face him but didn't manage to move an inch as he plunged his fingers into your flesh

The tight grip on your hips burned as he tugged you back to him, forcing your body harder on his lap to keep you in place while adjusting his own position. The crinkling sounds of the couch under your moving bodies faded away when a slap echoed off in the living room instead.

“Ah!” You screech while your legs flail behind, unable to escape from the palm of his hand at your middle back pushing you down, “Sunghoon-”

“Count” His strict tone cut you off that didn’t leave any room for arguing

Having to swallow down the nerves from showing, you didn’t want to test Sunghoon’s patience. There was no saying he wouldn’t think twice of calling Jay to come pick you up. Which shouldn’t sound so bad right? He was the one that left you here.

Another slap directly to the other cheek of your ass made you squeal loudly, “I said count” He sneered to remind you that you were in territory that wouldn’t take your shenanigans

“2” Your voice cracks but another slap to the opposite side made a strained cry slip through your lips

“Wrong, it’s one” He runs a palm to soothe to ache for a second, “Anytime you miss a number, we restart”

“That’s unfair” You tried to perch yourself off him but roughly he pushed your head back down to the cold leather with a flat hand

“Now life is unfair because you aren’t getting what you want?” He chuckled causing you to tense up, “I knew you acted out but damn I didn’t know how much of a brat you are”

“I’m not a brat!” You deflect but when another slap directly to your burning skin, you instantly bit harshly down on your bottom lip and screwed your eyes shut, “O-one” The way your voice cracks satisfies him enough

Sunghoon doesn’t say another word. The corners of his lips twitch upwards as he softly runs another hand over both ends of the burning skin. “Uh huh keep telling yourself that” He breathlessly laughs

Unable to defend yourself for even a second, Sunghoon strikes your right cheek watching the recoil of where his hand and the ends of your ass met, “Two” The strained reply overjoyed him

Letting his eyes roam over where he was spanking to notice the small discoloration from how hard he was hitting. Instead of being worried, he grins before drawing back his hand and landing a slap in the same place from before.

Your head pushed further into the leather, mouth hanging wide open as a faint whimper fell from your quivering lips. He tilts his head in order to drink in the appearance right before him. Slightly parted legs, the lace panties riding up in the middle, your upper body squished on his couch as you looked at him with wet eyes.

His grin suddenly falters seeing the whitening claw marks on his leather couch, it wasn’t some cheap leatherette he had, it was real leather imported from Italy.

“Now don’t be a bad girl and ruin my leather sweetheart” Sunghoon says while simultaneously peeling his hand from the back of your head to slide it under your clawed one, “Wouldn’t want to spend your money- well technically Jay’s money on fixing it now would we”

He runs a rough pad of thumb on the back of your hand before tightening his grasp to the point where his nails were digging into your knuckles just enough to not hurt you, but just enough to warn you

“Stop messing around” You grit through clenched teeth in annoyance

This caused Sunghoon to laugh abruptly, “Hah you’re telling me? Oh no that’s not how this is going to work” He pulls your arms behind your back and pins it against the middle, his freehand after letting you go of your hand smacks against your flesh harshly enough for it to echo off the living room walls

“3” Your strained answer couldn’t be any less of the truth, it was clear, you swallow down the lump in your throat, “It’s already burnin- 4!” He snickered, not wasting another second to send another slap towards your ass

Another smack, then another followed by another, then one more which was supposed to be the last until 3 more followed after. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you received in the past 5 minutes.

All you did know was your bottom was sore and burning to the point that you were subdued to small whines having Sunghoon laughing at your state.

“Sunghoon” You whimpered when his calloused hand ran over the sore skin teasingly

With a careful persona, Sunghoon slightly adjusted your panties over your burning skin. He brings them to their original state that barely covers anything. The lace beautifully against the sensitive flesh that any touch to it had you shivering.

“Use your words”

“Hoonie” The same nickname used with the hint of desperation in your breath now made Sunghoon tighten his hand on your arm and hummed softly in response

“Now” His stern voice made it clear what he was aiming for. He knew what he wanted from you and you knew exactly what you had to give to make it stop.

“Do something” You spat in a grimace which happened to be far from the right response. In a flash you can feel his finger running down the slit of the thin undergarment and ripping it easily in a second

You scream in shock, “What the fuck?!” Peering over your shoulder to look at the male who hasn’t looked away the moment he caught your gaze, “You just ripped my underwear!” The last word fell into a gasped moaned when Sunghoon grazed a finger between your slicken slit

“You’re dripping” His finger twirled past the perfectly ripped center enough to expose your wet heat, “Didn’t know Jay also had a slut as a girlfriend"

“I’m not a slut” Sunghoon wasn’t amazed with this retort but instead was impressed how you managed to soak right through your underwear

He dug two fingers dead center of the small tear in your underwear to rip it open even more, “You’re going to pay for that” You try to come off stern but fail when Sunghoon doesn’t even respond

With the pad of his thumb, he runs it over your swollen bud, Figures eights against your clit causing you to melt into his touch.

He had that type of power that was unimaginable until now.

“No I’m not” He chuckles before spreading your folds open and teasing the muscles with the tips of his fingers, “Looks at this… practically begging for me”

“Shut up-” The words died on your mouth when you feel his finger teasing your entrance before finally sliding through

Sunghoon painfully drags his finger in and out with a gentle pump, settling on a slow pace that wouldn’t satisfy anyone and surely not you. “Sure about that?” He spoke when you clench around him the moment he curls up into the gummy walls

“Hoon, Not-” Your sentence cut short when you feel him pull out fully only to quickly push back in, “Enough” Wrenching the end of your sentence made him smile

Your hands attempt from behind to grab his wrist but he rips his finger out of you to send another harsh smack against your already burning skin.

“Ungrateful and impatient?” Emphasis on the ‘and’ made the burn on your cheeks match the burn on your lower body, “How does Jay even put up with it?”

“By putting up with it” Sunghoon laughs at your sneer, he shakes his head with the laughter dying down

He pulls you off his lap to the side without discard leaving you confused, stingy and vibrating with a need that he purposefully started that you very much needed him to end.

“Yeah not for long princess” His tone was almost playful but much so more mocking than not

Peering behind, you watch Sunghoon dusting off his clothes from the remnants of you. The corners of your lips tugging down when you see him walking off without even looking back at you.

“Where are you going?!” You readjust yourself to sit up on his couch, not caring if you were dampening the leather. You weren’t used to being left behind, especially when you were so needy

It didn’t matter where it would be, if you were needy, you were always taken care of.

“Be a good girl and stay there” He didn’t even bother to fully look at you only merely looking behind his shoulder to the side until he rounded the corner and disappeared

You scoffed in disbelief because there was no way you would stay, especially not by the word of Sunghoon.

With hurried steps, you stand up with weak knees that you almost fall over. You grumble under your breath silently and put a hand against the burning skin behind in hopes to ease the pain after each step you take.

It was up until then when you saw the slightly ajar door that stood out from the rest of closed doors. Your body didn’t hesitate to drag you down that path and carefully walked into the dark room.

Each hesitant step after the other, you looked side to side just to see a closet and bed against the wall with a nightstand off to the side. Knitting your brows and inching closer to the bed with an extended hand but nearly jumped out of your skin when the door slammed shut.

“I thought I told you to stay” Sunghoon’s voice sinister and menacing loomed in the shadows making your skin crawl

It was a test. To see if you would stay and follow his words but he knew you wouldn’t and he stands corrected.

It was time for the plan he never prepared physically but always mentally for when the day came.

“I-I” There were no words applicable enough to defend your case so, you face him and stand your ground, “No. I wasn’t going to just stay there because you said so” You snapped back

For a second, you believed you got him when he didn’t respond, so you continue the tangent. “Listen, it’s one thing to slap my ass but it’s another to stick a fucking finger in me and not finish what you started”

“Is that why you didn’t even bother to put your pants back on?” Sunghoon took a stride towards you, his step filled with purpose until he was in front of you, “Because you need me to fuck you like a slut to make you happy?”

His eyes burned through you that it felt like he could head every waking thought you had. You squirmed under his gaze and was the first to break eye contact making him lazily smile. “Not using your words?” He asked but was met with no response again

Abruptly his hand flew to your neck and held it, “Good girls use their words” His eyes roam over your body as if to examine your state. With a smack against his teeth, he shakes his head, “Don’t know why I expect you to know”

“Clearly you have no shame”

In a flash, you grab his wrist holding you and dig your nails into his flesh. You believe it would have done something but nothing. Sunghoon laughs in your face when his freehand grabs your hand and with one hard squeeze, immediately makes you unwillingly let go.

“Now let’s try this again” Sunghoon lowly hums and brings your face closer to the point where his breath fans over, “Want to use your words properly or are you still going to keep making noise to get what you want”

“Fuck you Sunghoon”

“Atta’ girl” He smirks and with each step he takes, you take a step back until the end of the bed hits the back on your knees forcing you to sit down on at the edge

You look up at Sunghoon and he moves his hand from your throat to cup your jaw and run the pad of his thumb over your cheek with a growing gentle smile.

As his gaze focuses on your bottom lip, he runs a thumb over it to wipe all moisture from it.

Without second guessing, he slips in his creasing thumb and pressing flat on your tongue. Unable to stop the small gagging noise from it, he encouraged it more when he pressed harder down.

Instead of pushing him away like he anticipated, you fully wrap your lips around it and sucked on his thumb softly. Sunghoon watched how your eyes flutter close, a soft hum rumbling out as the crack of a smile on your face.

“He spoils you way too much” He breathlessly says out loud under his breath when he realizes Jay must do this often with you

You peek open your eyes and bash them when you look up to the male in front of you, his thumb pressing down on your tongue loosened and you messily run all over the flesh in your mouth easily.

A dark cloud casts over his eyes but not enough to dim the sparkle in them as he watches you. He doesn’t even try anything to stop you. The corners of your lips twitch up to the side and he could tell you’re growing confident again.

“Hoonie” Your slurred speech was like a bucket of cold water drowning him, he snapped out of the moment and yanked his hand away

“Careful there princess” Sunghoon leans your head back while simultaneously stretching out your mouth with his index and thumb, “You’ll catch something in that mouth of yours you might not want” Your brows crease in confusion when he hovers over your tilted head

With what took perfect calculation to align his head above yours, the glob of spit trickling down from him to your jared mouth. Inching out your tongue out to receive it, he squeezes your cheeks with a stern grip, “Swallow” And without hesitation as he closed your mouth for you making a low hum rumble out of your chest

“You liked that?” He asked once realizing the loopy smile you on and the dazed nod you gave, “Such a nasty girl”

“And if I admit I am?” You fluttered your eyes up at him who was already looking down at you with a narrowed gaze of lust

“Then we’re finally making progress” He says before he letting go of the deadweight you became in his hand and pushes you on the bed

You squeal when your back meets the mattress, not expecting him to walk over to the closet instead of climbing onto you.

“I really hate being kept waiting you know” You push yourself up on elbows to look at his back with a frown. Each time he moved, the fitted shirt moved, the back muscles you’ve seen from afar but never up close shifting every time he moved even a little

You tilt your head to the side as you rake over his body, “And I don’t really like to be gawked at but here we are” He sharply turns around instantly catching you off guard, “Guess we don’t get what we want”

Fully turning around, he held a container that made his biceps flex through the short sleeve which caught all of your attention. All to forget to see what’s inside of it and only hear the clattering mess inside of it.

Without even a word uttered, just Sunghoon’s presence in front of you made a dwell of embarrassment arise and you fall back and cover your body to the best of your ability.

“No don’t do that” He switches the box into one arm while the freehand grasped your wrist and bounded them over your head

Instinctively licking your lips when catching sight of his muscles again that bulged through the fabric, perfectly filling in the sleeves with each flex.

You swallow down the lump and turn your head to the side when what he was carrying plopped beside you. Hearing clutter spilling out and a sudden poke to your side, you peek down at the sight of the silicone toys scattered at your side.

“What the…” Words died on your tongue as your mouth fell agape when he grabbed a random one and pressed it against your cheek

“Let’s play a game” He smirks wickedly leaving you frozen in place, he shooed away most of the toys to the floor with a cringy sound

His nails dig into your wrist, the fake tip teasingly dragging around your cheek before trailing down your neck, “Don’t make a single sound and you get a prize. If you do then you get punished, easy right?”

“And what type of punishment would it be if I don't follow your little rules?” There is a sleaze to your words, somehow you were still prideful and you were proud of that

“Let’s find out” Not even given a chance to retort, in a split second the toy by your cheek was soon pushing past your glistening hole and you mewled once it plunged right into entrance through the ripped opening

You loudly gasped when Sunghoon immediately began thrusting the toy in and out without a missed beat or even letting you adjust to the stretch. You flailed your body to break from his hold and instead only made it grow tighter.

“I thought we agreed on no sound” He darkly snickered watching your withering body each time he pulled out, leaving you empty, just to shove it back into you, “I want to be able to hear you”

Sunghoon didn’t actually mean you. He wanted to hear the squelching noises from where you and the toy met messily.

It didn’t stop there. With the perfect positioning of the toy, each time he pushes it inside of you, it will lightly graze the swollen bundle of nerves that crumbled you in a blink of an eye.

Biting down on your bottom lip to silence the sounds daring to slip out to follow through with the rules. You weakly shake your head, not really sure what you were denying but it must have meant something since Sunghoon actually stopped with the toy deep inside of you.

He looked down to catch your teary gaze, quivering lips as you tried to keep quiet. Menacingly the corner of his lip twitched up, it was a sight he didn’t realize he would ever experience.

“What’s wrong? Cats got your tongue princess?” He leans and presses forehead to forehead making you pull back the moment his breath grazes yours

“Fucking move the dildo better” You snapped with malice in your voice making him heartily chuckle which only enraged you more, “What are you laughing at? There’s nothing funny about this”

“No you’re right” The hold on your wrist fell to be replaced with a tight grip at your jaw keeping you still for him as his hands to unravel you. “This is fucking hilarious”

“You humor me when you actually think I’ll listen to you” You feel the drag of the slicken toy slip out with a plop once it’s fully out, an abrupt groan fell through your swollen lips at the emptiness, “So a brat that doesn’t listen to me will get someone who won’t listen to her”

“And who gives you that power to do so?” Sunghoon didn’t flinch when you snapped back, instead he yawned as if he were used to this, “Are you yawning right now? What is your problem?!”

Yet, instead of answering, he just pushes back the toy into your fluttering hole with an unphased expression. The air in your lungs gets caught in your throat from how quickly it fills you up, a strained gasp ripped from your chest when he set a brutal pace. It was fast and abrupt, no longer the familiar slow and weak one.

Your head was thrown back, chest heaving when the tip of the toy was poking into your gummy walls but nevertheless still unfulfilling for your desire. “Sunghoo-Hoon” With the way you yearned his name, he knew you didn’t want more, you needed it

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a soft moan leaving your swollen lips, “Hoonie-” You were cut off the moment something firm and plastic-like ran over your licked lips before forcing itself into your mouth

Hastily looking down to your parted lips around another variation of a toy he had laying around. You gagged around the fake shaft when he pressed further down your throat, muting your sounds to nothing but loud gargles and chokes.

One slipped out of a wet hole, another would slip into the other and vice versa until you were muted to nothing. Only the sounds of your pussy squelching around the toy and your vibrating cries around the fake shaft were bouncing off the walls.

“See isn’t it just so much better when you’re quiet and not running that mouth of yours” Sunghoon was tailoring to you with false sweetness when there was no way of being able to respond. There were no tender touches, it was brutal and rough. Sunghoon was making a statement.

You wailed around the silicon lodged into your throat, you put your hands on his shoulder as support, not to move him off you like he expected. You were leaving him there to watch and listen how you took everything he was pushing into you.

Trailing his eyes down your body from the tears slipping each time you squeezed your eyes shut, your legs spreading even wider giving him perfect sight of your stretched pussy. He examined closer for a precision to brush your clit simultaneously ripping a loud moan out of you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders blade when the pace grew faster, each thrust led to a teasing nudge something in you that only Jay has ever touched and now his best friend found it too.

He kissed the roof of his mouth realizing that was your sweet spot from how much sobbed on the toy.

It was amusing how never once Sunghoon missed a beat in any of his shoves into your holes. Lathering the dildo into your mouth, with accumulated spit that seeped from the corner of your lips and dribbling down your chin.

The toy was almost lightweight on your tongue when it moved to peak inside the tighter confinement of your throat. You tried to suck on it the only you knew how to. Weakly bobbing around the moving shaft to meet Sunghoon’s shoves into your throat.

It was messy, it was nasty, it was straight filth with all kinds of bodily fluids leaking out of you and it still somehow became Sunghoon’s greatest motivation.

He could see it in your eyes that you were conflicted with something, the way you avoided his gaze to keep them trained on the ceiling.

“What’s wrong? Mhm?” His tone taunting that through the haze you scratched over the shirt enough to leave marks later on, “Going to come?”

“Sunghoon” Your broken wails were almost ineligible making him go harder. Every single time, the toy would slip fully out before being pushed right back in to it’s highest point hilt within the warm wet heaven of you

It was right there that you could almost taste the pleasure past the plastic gliding in your throat. Up until it was all ripped away from you with loud pops.

“Sunghoon” You whined in a loud breath once you gained a somewhat stable breathing

“Bad girls don’t get to come sweetheart” A loud huff and wiggle of your body, trying to deny his reasoning but a smack to your thighs made you stop

“Not a bad girl” You swallowed down harshly knowing he preferred when you spoke instead of relying on just sound

You felt Sunghoon’s smooth hands running up the back of your thigh like he was admiring you, “What was that?” Sunghoon tilted his head and shrugged off your arms from his neck making them fall to your side

A tingling sensation burns your lips from how long they were parted for, you bring up your hand to wipe the droll basically covering you. You knew you looked like a mess but Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pins it down before you wipe anything away, “I asked you something”

“I’m not a bad girl” You blabbed, not fully comprehending how your body was being contorted to his liking. It was only then you realized how your head leaned back and off the bed with how it bobbed, “You’re so mean Hoonie. I didn’t even get to come”

The male scoffs in amusement, “When is it going to stick that your actions will have consequences?” He buzzed when you finally raised your eyes up to the eye level bulge in front of your face, “Girls who misbehave get punished”

Even upside down, it was obvious how it begged to be free from its restraint. “You look pretty big” You point out trying to reach out and touch but he stops you with a gentle grab, “Seeing me like this gets you that hard?” He lets out an airy laugh at the dazed question

“You’re never going to learn are you?”

You lull your head to the side and giggle frantically while shaking your head with a bitten lip, “What’s the fun in that?” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue in annoyance watching how there is a mischievous glimmer in your eye

Your tease left unanswered from the sound of him fiddling with his sweats but not in the way you expected. Sunghoon didn’t even bother to pull them down instead he was slipping out the clear hard-on through the small opening of the pants, “And never explain” You murmur the imprint on the center of his sweats before being met with the hang of his shaft before your eyes

“You’re really big” You stated in assurement, he was hung that it was mind blowing he was hiding all of this underneath. The slight curve from the weight holding him down

You pursued your lips out and softly pecked the leaking tip, having him jerk back from your tease. You smirk and look up at him through eyelashes to see his unamused face.

Sunghoon grabbed himself and slowly stroke to cover his length with the precum that leaked, “Hoon” You called out again which he ignored

He gripped your chin, forcing your mouth open as he leaned down enough that he could let the accumulated spit spill from his to land into yours. You lightly choked when the hand holding you slipped down to your throat and tightened, making your gasp just enough for Sunghoon to guide himself in.

Nothing could have prepared you for the wider, heavier, wet and warm stretch to your mouth. Instantly the moment the tip slipped through, you coughed loudly as it slipped past further down your throat.

“Only way to shut you up” Sunghoon groans when you instinctively attached your lips around him to keep him in you

With one swift motion, he filled your mouth up where you could feel him teasing the down back of your throat just by his tip alone. You weakly pressed your hand behind for support but he roughly gathered your wrist and binded them with his own and held them to your chest.

“Don’t try to speak with your mouth full” He laughed when his cock vibrates from your weak blabs, “You can get hurt like that if you aren’t careful enough” Not even fully bottomed out in your throat, he holds himself from simply ramming into the warm confinement

Through the ineligible whimpers ripping from the small crevices that weren’t full of him which wasn’t much to begin with, he managed to string them together to the best of his ability. You forget the hand around your throat until it squeezes tighter, lightly constricting the air in your body.

A lightheaded feel flooded your head with a wail just as Sunghoon pushed the entirety of his cock into your mouth. He lets out small groans each time you gagged at him being lodged right in the tight captivity.

Thus without sparing a moment, he drags himself out leaving only his tip resting against your lips, giving you the chance to suck in a harsh breath until he shoves himself back into you. From the small time your head and the way Sunghoon fucks your mouth just like how he did with the toy, hard, uncaring and somehow pleasuring.

The blood rushed to your head even faster. Unable to run your tongue over any surface from how fast Sunghoon was rutting into your mouth, you could only stay in that position. Each drag in and out of your mouth managed to make you feel how his cock bulged out of your throat each time he thrusted up.

The length and tip outlining out of your throat and into his followed with your full mouth. He squeezes his hand around your neck to make it tighter around him. Wet lewd sounds fell through swollen lips as you could only take what was being given to you.

Droplets accumulated in the corners of your eyes as you screwed them shut each time you felt the poke down your throat and into his hand. Forced to claw at your shirt for support, you gargled unimaginable sounds.

“That’s better isn’t it” He grunts when he feels you trying to suck around his cock, he pushes himself against your face for a split second before pulling out fully with a loud pop

You choked on air as you tried to accumulate any type of form of coherency. However, you weren’t quick enough to respond to Sunghoon. He lets go of your wrist and pries open your legs to the side and slaps dead center on your pussy.

You squeal loudly but not loud enough to block the lewd slap to your wet core. “I asked you, isn't it better when you aren’t talking nonsense?” You mewl weakly, hands uncontrollably shaking as your mouths open and closes failing to reply, “Answer me”

“Yes” Your response was hoarse and wet, you gulped down to clear your throat but couldn’t when your mouth was flushed open again with his cock filling your mouth in one swift thrust

“Good girl” Your head grows full of the first ever praise of the night, he sends another slap and then another onto your sensitive core, the uncleaned arousal spilling around and ruining the sheets under you

The male hovers over your entire body, one of his arms holding himself up, while the other one never lets go of your throat. He thrust into your mouth without a care, his only mission is to stop you from speaking nonsense anymore.

Head aligned perfectly with your entrance that he spits directly onto your clit and watches how it slides down the slit, slightly mixing with your arousal coating your folds. You squirm underneath him and try to reach a hand down to run over the bundle of nerves for extra stimulation.

Each time he slapped himself into your mouth, the tighter his grip became around your throat. His hand gripped the sheets in support as he could feel his abdomen clenching, his thrust growing unrhythmic and the sounds he tried to hold back couldn’t be contained.

Your face met with his pelvis each time he was making you take him deeper and deeper until every breath became of him. Screaming his name with a full mouth was impossible to understand when your fingers found the right pace running over your clit

“You get off on that?” He spat through gritted teeth, “When I use your mouth? Finally shutting you up mhm?” All the response he got were your weak gargles and fluttering eyes rolling to back of your head

Your back arching off the bed and withering each second that passed by. You were moaning uncontrollably around his cock as though blurred vision, all that was burned into your mind was the words ‘And never explain’.

“Hoon. Hoon. Hoon” Was all that could leave your filled mouth, you were chanting his name like a prayer that disarmed you into nothing to be put back together by your savior, “Sunghoon!” You gargled thinking this would be it

However, as quick as your orgasm was about to come, the faster it was to be ripped away from you again for the second time tonight. With a swift motion, you regained your obstructed breath when he let you go.

Grabbing your moving wrist that you couldn’t put much of a fight into when your mind was so muddled and dizzy. Dazingly you’re heaving trying to regain your breath, it was a blur of pleasure that was breaking you bit by bit. Through wet eyes, you catch Sunghoon looming over you, his eyes darkened and a smirk that couldn’t be wiped off.

His hand reaches up to crease your face, he smooths out his palm carefully. Uneven blinks are what he receives and unable to do anything but smile at it, he leaves you there to walk to the opposite side.

Rolling your back head to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon over your shoulder before he is climbing onto the bed himself. You pushed your arms out to peel your body off the mattress but instead your head is pushed back down to the mattress.

“Sunghoon” Your sentence incomplete when two fingers slid right back into the wet confinement of your heat making you squeal and claw at the sheets

“Yeah?” The smug of his tone bleeding off and seeping through the cracks of your just right where he was all you could ever think of, “You were just so empty, was just begging to be filled up”

You weakly try to reach behind and grab him to fasten the pace but even trying to grapple with him was a loss as he bends your arm and presses it into your back.

“Uh-Uh. You know better now or do I still need to engrave it into your head?” He stops all movement completely and you lightly flailed your legs in annoyance

“Just do something! I’m sick of this!” You squealed as you tried to chase after the pleasure with every wither of your body

Sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh at your attempts, deciding that sticking in another finger would be better. You loudly gasp at the bigger intrusion, Sunghoon slowly pumps out the squished three fingers and then right back in.

Burying your head into the plush of the comforter as your mouth hangs open to spill out the accumulated muffled sounds. His thumb rubbing near your clit makes you see stars.

However, it only lasts at least three or four pumps or even more, you’re not sure since you’ve lost count when he rips away yet another orgasm from you right when it was about to come.

“Sunghoon” Your voice cracks when you call his name, “Shunghoon!” Yet, this time you’re squealing his name for another reason when a slap to your pussy tingles all of your senses

You grip the edge of the bed when your core twitches by even the smallest breeze. Then, when you feel a sticky substance smacking against your own slicken core, you crumble instantly.

The lewd sound bounces off when his own length hits against you in a repeated manner. How much each splat flew when skin on skin met was unclear, the liquids you’re not even sure came from was ruining the sheets but it didn’t matter.

With the choice to coat his cock but glides it in between your slit, each time his tip would protrude your entrance only to slip out. He was giving you a taste until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your patience snapped the moment more than just his tip was pushing into you, “Hoon- Hoonie please! I need it. Need you” You whimpered

Even though you couldn’t see his face, the sheer cockiness was getting omitted from him. He leaned down and pressed his chest to your back, while there was no direct contact, you still felt his warmth.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? What do you need?” He slurs in the shell of your ear, “Tell me”

“Need me to fuck you straight?” At his lowly chuckle, you’re quick to nod your head in response, not caring if you needed to beg on your knees

“Anything” You rasped out making Sunghoon chuckle, his body on top of your was the least suffocating thing

“Aww why didn’t you just say so” Without a moment to spare, your eyes roll to back of your head when Sunghoon finally breaches through in a swift motion

“S-Sunghoon!” The wail melted into a sucked breath as he pushed through your gaped hole

“Shhhh it’s okay princess. You’ll get what you deserve” He whispers, your contracting walls attempting to get adjusted to the large intrusion

You breathed heavily through your nose and mouth trying to even it out as he slowly glides himself out just a little before pushing back into you.

Instantly you feel the emptiness seeping away from every inch you were being filled by from Sunghoon. He couldn’t keep himself from pushing himself further to stop once you met with the base.

Nestled right into the welcoming confinement, he weakly laughed and shook his head as he stared at where you two connected. “You’re taking me well sweetheart… Like you were made for this”

“Were you? To be shut up like a brat and fucked like a slut?” He murmured directly into your ear with a grin when you didn’t respond

“Mhm? Not answering me?” Your were too dazed out but it was only when a bulging sensation wrapped around your throat were you brought back to your senses, “Use your words” He threatened once your head was up from his yanking it up by his biceps

You knew what it meant and behind the facade, he had already broken you, “Y-yes! I am! Please just move! Let me come” You sniffled as your head craned back from his biceps crushing under your chin

Constricting the airways again still managed to have every sense full of him. It felt like you were being split into half, normally how you felt with Jay, but this time it was different.

There was no extensive care and love. Sunghoon was on a mission and that was to straighten you out.

Your body jolted forward from the first actual thrust. Gripping onto the crumbled sheets harder as you didn’t even attempt to minimize your noise.

“Hoon. Hoon” You’re chanting his name when his thrust becomes frequent and repetitive. A concentrated force that is drilled into your body

Moving his hips in long, hard and calculated thrust, it was easy to get lost in the sense of you. He tried shaking his head from the clouding daze but with the way you wrapped around him—took him in like nothing, it was addictive.

Every precise move always left you empty only to be full the next second. His tip cut into your g-spot once he found it, the noises growing louder as you begged for your ultimate victory.

Gargled and squeezed breaths escaped your lips and your head in his arms felt like you were soaring through a cloud. Your ears rang and felt like you were submerged into a wave of Sunghoon and you relished in that.

“What happened to that attitude of yours mhm?” Your arms ran up to his arms and scratched them—easily marking them up with red streaks in its wake but it didn’t phase him, “What’s in your mind now sweetheart?”

“Let me come please! I’ll be good. Promise. Please” Your broken pleas somehow managed to make Sunghoon ram into you, his thrust growing rougher each time

Every thrust melted your further into the mattress, feeling you clamp around him was more of a reward than what you would be getting. “Let me hear you princess” He chuckles lowly

The screeching of the bed squeaked in synchronization with your own. Sunghoon felt fulfilled with the state he has you in, every breath you took consisted of broken wails of need. Anytime he asked you something, you responded well.

Like something had been easily rewired in your brain by his own hands. Slowing down his own pace so that you could feel everything that he could touch anything and everything imaginable in you.

Sunghoon peered down to see the recoil of where you two met. Watching how you sucked him in, how beautifully you wrapped around him. It made him dizzy once a desire in him flickered hot.

“You’re going to take it right? Be a good girl for me and take it?” Sunghoon grunted and jerked your head up to look at him

He stopped his thrust completely to admire the unfocused eyes, droll trickling down the corners of your lip down your chin, blown out pupil, you were gone and high off the adrenaline. “Answer”

“Yes”

He let go of your neck, dropping it back to the mattress and you gasped loudly. The waft of his smell filled your head that every crevice in you was full of him.

Sunghoon held the ends of your hips with a death grip and picked up the slow pace into something almost carnal. Obscene noises only grew louder the harder he was chasing after you in his bed.

As much as he tried to conceal his own sounds, there was no escaping the small groans he let out when you clenched around him just right.

“Good fucking girl” He grumbled under his breath when there was no way that you could form any coherent sentence or even thought

All you could let out were moans and whines when his tip would tease inside your gummy walls and repeatedly hit your g-spot that shattered you.

Sunghoon snaps his hips against your back, his triceps flexing from his grip and strength holding him up. The more you clamped around him, the more impossible it felt that you would let go of him and drag out his first orgasm of the night.

“Isn’t your mind at rest now that you aren’t thinking so much?” He questioned knowing he wouldn’t get a proper response but he managed to string together what you were blabbing about, “Oh you’re happy now?” He laughs out loud

His thrust became erratic and unrhythmic as he was chasing his high. However, when he could feel the familiar clench around him, he drags himself out of you with a plop and a loud whine when you don't come around his cock.

“Sunghoon” You mewled breathlessly when you’re flipped onto your back and the wind gets knocked out of you as your legs are pushed up to your chest

“Messy Messy slut” Lifting his hand to slap your exposed self making you shriek

“Hoon” You gulped the lump in your throat as your grip on the sheets never faltered, “Please”

“Please what?” He slowly runs his shaft over the slicken crevice but never pushing in

“I’ll be good. I won’t act up. Not anymore. Promise. Just please” Your sentences was broken up while trying to catch your breath that he couldn’t barely understand

“Speak up properly” He stops once he was aligned at your entrance

“Please make me come” Slowly shaking his head, grabbing the base of his cock and dragging apart your folds and stroking himself to his liking

“I thought it would make sense to you that… You aren’t getting what you want” He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Brats don’t get rewards”

You wiggle your body in an attempt to chase after the fulfillment Sunghoon gave you but he pressed down on your body to stop you. He lets out low groans and his eyes never move away from where he rested.

“Ah- Take it. Fucking take it” He groans loudly, watching at your gaped hole and how his tip nearly could slip in if he moved an centimeter more

His hand was cramping but he didn’t care, he continued to coat your essence all over to not leave a single trace empty of you.

“Hoonie” You turned your head to the side, an acceptance casting of you that you would never get what you wanted, at least not tonight and definitely not from Sunghoon

Your mouth fell open in awe when a warmth splat all over your entrance and Sunghoon shook above you. His chest rose up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his cum seeping all over, some even falling inside of the cavern and sliding into you.

Letting go of his semi-hard cock and watching how it hangs and pokes your clit making you jolt slightly at the slight stimulation.

While he believes that he doesn’t make a lot of mistakes or regrets, this one must’ve been his worst one when he looks up to your face and sees it masked in an unsatisfied afterglow.

Your mouth hanging open and forming a small frown, your own body rising and falling, eyes clouded with dripping tears, saliva dried and wet from the corner of your mouth.

Bring his attention back down to where he made a mess on you. His cum seeping and falling through even crevices and crack, some falling to the bed and some inside of you.

Sunghoon chuckled as he reached over to his phone in the room and opened the camera and began recording with the flash of your state. He zooms in the area he knows Jay would love to see.

He spreads your folds apart to show the white surrounding it and slightly pushes some of it into your hole. In the background your whine is heard but looking past it to focus on your swollen bud.

Running a thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves, you wither over and crinkle the sheets even more, body slightly arching off but he softly pushes you back down and you comply.

He trails the flash all the way up to your face and chuckles at the squinted eyes as a whimper falls through your raw lips from how much you kept nibbling at them.

“You’re on video” Your eyes fell close in a loud huff at Sunghoon’s taunt, “Smile for the camera”

Instead of disobeying, you weakly flash a weak smile at the rolling video before it ultimately cuts just like your attitude the moment you walked through this door where it remains left behind.

ᯓ★

As you loudly huff, you plop onto the couch with folded arms and roll of your eyes. Jay trailing behind you with a loud gruff, “Baby. I already told you why we can’t go out this weekend”

“No I don’t want to hear it Jay. It’s whatever. I don’t care. Focus on your oh so important job more” You crossed your legs over and ignored the presence of your boyfriend who was beyond fed up

Jay runs a hand through his hair, tussling its usual slick back with a heavy sight, “Don’t make me call sunghoon again” The sentence held a heavy weight to it now— no longer feeling the way it used to feel

Instantly, you fixed your act and sat straight up. Your cheeks burning under your skin because you’re supposed to be afraid— not soaking through your panties right now at the thought.

You didn’t even come and you couldn’t go through the torture but the problem was, you wanted to.

“I dare you” You sneered through chattering teeth without thinking and a sick smirk plastered on Jay’s face as he laughs and nods his with a poke of his tongue to his inner cheek

“You asked for it” He sternly said before picking up his phone and dialing the number meant for out of control girlfriends

Unable to control the corners of your lips inching upwards realizing that everything was going according to plan because to you, it would certainly take more than one session to get rid of that entitlement.

And it somehow seems like it would take more than just Sunghoon to get it out of you because once a brat, always a brat.

So call 1-800-HOON and get the attitude fucked out of your girl today at a pricing deal of free only limited to his best friend’s girlfriend.

——

You learn people by the way they wear things.

Not just their clothes, the cut, the labels, the price tags—but the small, private habits stitched into them. The way a shoulder hunches when they think no one’s watching. How a thumb rubs the seam of a collar when nerves creep in. How some faces bloom under fabric while others look like they were forced into the wrong skin.

You’ve been watching for years.

It’s the job. Has to be. Stylists aren’t just people who tug zippers and smooth hems; you’re translators. You read a body like it’s text. The slope of a shoulder tells you which jacket will sharpen it. The angle of a hip shows you how fabric will fall. You memorize who sweats under lights, who always rolls sleeves when restless, who only stands tall when pinned into structure.

Clothes lie. Bodies don’t. You’ve built a career out of catching the gap between the two and stitching it closed.

Your world has always been dressing rooms, garment bags heavier than people, the hiss of steamers, the sting of pins in your fingertips. You’ve learned to make silence comfortable inside a space full of mirrors. You’ve learned to smile when someone says, Anything looks good on them, because you know it’s not true.

You’ve worked with idols long enough to understand that most of them don’t even realize what they’re showing you. That the details they think are invisible; how they breathe in, how they flinch when you brush their wrist, how they lighten up the second they catch their reflection—are exactly the things you see most clearly.

“It’s just the job,” you tell yourself. Fabric and form, nothing more.

But some people don’t let themselves be dressed and forgotten.

Ni-ki was supposed to be one of the easy ones. Just a boy growing into his frame. Another set of limbs to measure, another body to learn. You were there when the first spotlight made him blink, when the first perfect jacket made him stand a fraction taller.

To you, he was simple, the baby of the group who wouldn't stop asking too many questions or taking off his shoes in the wrong place. You smoothed collars, pinned stray threads, lifted hems, and tucked stray strands behind ears with the kind of casual care you reserve for things you have watched grow. You never thought about what it meant to be watched back.

Until he started watching.

At first it was small. A fitting room held a minute too long. A muttered compliment in the chaos of a comeback week. A bag he insisted on carrying. You laughed it off the way adults laugh when kids mistake teasing for courtship. He was still a little boy in the calendar. voice cracking, hands smaller than they wanted to be, and you viewed him like that. A bright, unfinished thing.

But he tried. God, he tried.

He’d linger at the edge of your vision, tugging at invisible strings to stage moments only you were meant to notice. His shirt would stick to his back after practice, peeled off too slowly, sweat tracing down his chest. He wanted your eyes caught there. He wanted the slip, the fluster, the stumble.

And yes. Your gaze drifted. A second, no more. Just enough for him to feel it. Enough for his pulse to jump.

You clapped, sharp and mocking.

“Good job, baby. The gym’s paying off.”

Your smirk was calm, teasing, the kind of tone that turns a performance into a child’s play. His jaw twitched. His fists curled. He wanted to see you break. But you only stretched, loose and unbothered, and walked away.

So he pushed harder.

Backstage, he hovered. Eyes sharp when other men laughed too long at your jokes or brushed your arm in passing. He didn’t speak—he didn’t have to. The set of his shoulders said enough.

“Aw, don’t pout, Riki. You’re still my favorite.”

You said it so sweetly, like soothing a sulky child. Like he wasn’t eighteen, shaking with the need to be seen as anything but.

The breaking point came one late night.

He stormed into the dressing room, shirt clinging damp, hair falling into his eyes. You were bent over a table, folding stage clothes, humming like the world outside didn’t exist.

“Grumpy again? Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I didn’t notice your new hair today.” You don’t look up. You keep folding, fingers smoothing the fabric with infuriating calm. “It’s cute, by the way. Very fluffy.”

His palm slammed against the table. The crack echoed.

“Stop treating me like I’m some fucking kid.”

Finally, you looked up. “Then stop acting like one.”

He steps closer. Too close. You can smell the sweat and cologne clinging to his skin.“You keep laughing at me,” he snaps, voice rougher than he intended. “You think this is funny? Me wanting you?”

Leaning back against the table, you fold your arms, gaze dragging over him slow enough to make his skin prickle. You let a silence stretch between you, before your lips curve.

“Mhm. I think it’s cute.”

His throat goes dry. “Cute?” he chokes, as if the word itself is an insult.

You hum, a soft sound that vibrates in the air between you, and tilt your head like you’re studying him under glass. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He burned. You stayed calm. The harder he pushed, the steadier you became. And that’s what broke him most—he could never win.

You thought it would fade. That he’d sulk, then move on the way boys his age do. But Ni-ki didn’t move on.

He latched.

His gaze changed first—hungry, tracking you across rooms. He lingered in doorways, stood too close, stared into mirrors until you met his eyes. He wanted you to know.

You noticed him stop laughing as much with the others. He’d sit quieter during group meals, fiddling with his phone, eyes flicking up only when you spoke.

During fittings, he wouldn’t fidget anymore; he’d stand still as a statue, tense and rigid, just so you’d touch him longer. A cufflink, a hem, your fingers brushing his wrist, and he’d live off it for days.

And when he was on stage, under lights, it was worse. He started performing for you. Subtle at first—the angle of his jaw when he turned toward your side of the stage, the way he dragged a hand over his chest when he knew you were watching. But soon it wasn’t subtle at all. He was stripping off jackets too slowly, staring into the cameras too long, moves threaded with the question he burned to ask: Are you watching me now?

Then came the bruises. At first, just a split lip.

“Boxing?” you asked, tone flat,  fingers hovering over the makeup sponge.

 He smiled too wide. “You noticed.”

After that, there was always something. A scrape. A burn. Knuckles swollen purple. And every time, he waited for your hands to hover, or your eyes to falter.

He lived off those seconds.

Then came the late night messages.

Almost every night, your phone would light up. A photo of his shoulder, mottled with bruises. Does it look bad?

 A shaky video of him, breath ragged after running until his legs gave out. Couldn’t sleep. You’d tell me to rest, right?

You stopped replying.

But silence didn’t starve him. It fed him.

Soon he was weaving others into the game.  He jokes with the manager until the manager slips, mentioning your name more than is professional. He stages small collisions with other staff, an “accidental” brush, a whispered complaint, and watches how you react. He learns who will cover for him, who will gossip, who will call him out. He builds his own scaffolding of allies and silence, and it always leads back to you.

 And of course, fan accounts caught on—photos of him watching you, rumors spun out of nothing. You are careful about public proximity, but the closeness during fittings is unavoidable.  

And you, god help you, begin to fear what attention might do to him. You know too well how hope can be an accelerant. If you comfort him, if you let one soft word slip, he will read tenderness as permission. He will drink it and then demand more. He will fold himself around the smallest proof and make it into a rule.

So you swallowed it down. You stayed still. You planned quietly. Report this if it spikes; keep records of messages; refuse the late night calls; push for professional help through the manager’s channels.

You do the grown up things that feel like nails driven into your ribs.

And still, he tightened around you.

It freaked you out, though you’d never say it out loud, not to him, not to anyone.

He wanted your care. Your worry. Your anger. He wanted anything you’d give him, as long as it was his.

The other members started noticing too—his temper sharper, his patience thin. If you were in the room, he was alert, awake, alive. If you weren’t, he was a shell.

You’d created a problem without meaning to. A boy who’d tasted rejection laced with sweetness, who’d felt your attention only in fractions, and decided fractions weren’t enough.

To him, you weren’t just a stylist anymore.

You weren’t even just a woman he wanted.

You were a drug. And he was hooked.

And the worst part—what curls your stomach with ice—is that he is not finished. He is learning how to weaponize his own hurt into performance, and he is very good at it.

You shake yourself free of the memory the way you smooth wrinkles out of fabric. Press, release, pretend the crease was never there.

Chrome Hearts isn’t a place to relax, but your work rarely allows that anyway. You move through racks with precision,You’re too deep in thought to notice how silent the store is, busy running mental inventory against your client list, already mapping what pieces might photograph well and what won’t.

So when a presence shifts behind you,  you don't register it until knuckles graze a hanger and make metal clink like an alarm.

You turned.

And there he was.

Dressed in all black, like the store itself had spat him out, his mask pulled high, his beanie dragging low, his figure cut sharp against the racks of leather and chrome.

Of course it’s him. Of course, he’d be here. If there was another thing he craved with the same single-minded compulsion he wasted on you, it was this. Collecting overpriced Chrome Hearts like charms on a rosary.

A sick, twisted part of you finds it adorable that someone who moves and starves himself on obsession until his bones show, can still turn boyish in his addictions. That beneath, he still has that impulse to collect, to want, to have.

And now, standing there, it feels like you’ve stumbled into the collection he wants most.

“Figured I’d find you here.” 

He closes the distance without waiting for permission, body eclipsing yours as if the store shrank just to fit the two of you in. He smells faintly of cologne, layered with the metallic tang of the racks around you. His hand dips into his pocket, while the other brushes too close, knuckles grazing the back of your wrist. Featherlight, but it burned everywhere.

You force your gaze up, higher than you remember needing to. He’s grown again, shoulders broad enough to blot out the rack behind him, the cut of his black jacket sharp against the pale sliver of throat peeking above the mask. And there, barely visible if you weren’t already cataloguing him like a pattern, his mole, the one tucked just beneath his eye, peeks out whenever the mask shifts against his cheek.

His eyes are the worst of it. Dark, steady, searching. He doesn’t look at the jackets or the silver. He doesn’t look at anything but you.

“You’re busy,” he murmured. “But not too busy to say hi, right?”

The line could be harmless. Friendly, even. Except his eyes flick down again, to your wrist, to the pulse hammering there, and then back up, catching yours in a way that makes the ground tilt.

It’s the same old sickness, you realize.

Chrome Hearts could burn down around him, and he’d still look at you like you were the only thing worth salvaging.

You clear your throat, shifting just enough to slip your wrist out of range.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you clipped back. “Half the press camps outside this place. If someone sees you—”

“They won’t.”  He cuts you off without hesitation, like the possibility doesn’t even exist. His gaze flickers once toward the window, then back to you.

You laughed under your breath, bitter. “You’re dressed like every other rich kid in Gangnam, that doesn’t make you invisible.”

But he didn’t move. If anything, he leaned closer, gaze cutting straight to your pulse.

“You’re worried about me.”

“I’m worried about the headline,” you hissed. “Idol sneaking with staff? You want that?”

“Let them write it.” His eyes glinted like the thought thrilled him.

“Riki,” you snapped, tugging a hanger free too hard, “you don’t get to decide that for me.”

For a beat, he just studies you, the muscle in his jaw ticking under the mask. Then his thumb lifts, barely brushing the hem of your sleeve.

“I just wanted to see you.”

You ignore him, and move down the aisle, skimming rings, pretending your pulse isn’t racing. He shadows you without hesitation, tall frame cutting through the racks.

“What are you even doing here?” you mutter, eyes locked on a chain displayed under glass.

“Shopping,” he says, but it sounds distracted. His gaze isn’t even on the jewelry. It’s on the way your fingers trace the glass.

You roll your eyes, stepping away. “Then shop. Don’t follow me.”

But he does. He keeps a perfect pace, hands tucked into his pocket, head tilted just enough that his beanie slips a little.

“Riki,” you sigh, warning in your tone.

“What?” He blinks at you, feigning innocence.

“You came here for something. Go find it.”

“I did,” he says, and the words are so soft, so matter-of-fact, you almost miss them.

Still, he doesn’t leave.

When you reach for a hanger, his hand slips up too fast— as if he meant to take it for you, or maybe just wanted an excuse to touch your fingers. The back of his thumb grazes your knuckle before you yank away.

He doesn’t apologize. He just smiles under the mask, the curve of it tugging at the fabric, eyes narrowing in that boyish, infuriating way that says he’s proud of whatever he just did.

You try to shake him. Not because you’re scared—though, maybe, a little, but because you know the risk. Paparazzi could be anywhere, some stranger with a phone camera lurking between racks. The last thing either of you needs is a headline about him tailing his stylist through Chrome Hearts like a dog on a leash.

So you pick up your pace. Turn down an aisle stacked with leather boots. Double back through denim. Circle racks like you’re tracing a maze.

By the time you reach the register, your arms are stacked with a few carefully chosen pieces. You risk a glance back, expecting him to be lost somewhere.

But no.

He’s there. Leaning on the counter beside you like he’s been waiting all along, mask pulled down just enough to show the curve of his mouth, the faintest smirk. The mole on his chin catches the light, peeking out from under the edge of his mask, and his eyes—God, his eyes—are locked on you like you’re the only thing in the room worth buying.

“What did you even come here for?” you snap under your breath, shoving your card across the counter.

“You,”

You roll your eyes, and balance the bags on your wrist, muttering a quick thank you to the cashier before pushing out into the cool night air. The mask on your face feels suffocating now, too tight. You glance over your shoulder just once, praying he has the sense to stay inside.

But, of fucking course, he didn’t.

He’s right there, a half step behind you, the picture of calm.

“Are you fucking insane?” you whisper-yell, tugging your shopping bags tighter against your side as the door clicks shut behind you. “Do you want to get caught? Do you even know how fast people will spin this if someone sees?”

Your finger jabbed his chest, words spilling fast. “You can’t just follow me around stores, Riki. You can’t stand so close, can’t—touch me like that, can’t—”

And through it all, he stared. Eyes soft, warmed by your anger, like every harsh word was proof you cared.

When you stopped, breath ragged, he tilted his head.

“You brought your car?”

“…What?”

“Your car. You drove, right?”

“…Yes.”

“Good.” A pause. Then, calm as anything. “Give me a ride home.”

Your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Chrome Hearts bags are heavy.” His eyes flicked to your wrist, then back. “Besides, you don’t want me walking. Someone might see.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

And the worst part? He’s right.

But you’ve already made up your mind. Screw him, you’re going to your car, alone, and he can figure out his own way back. You dig through your purse for your keys, chin lifted, while he trails behind you, quiet. Too quiet.

Then—“Fine,” a pause.“I’ll just wait here, then.”

You turn to look at him, brows furrowing. “…Okay?”

He shrugged, tugged his beanie lower, eyes sliding toward the alley where kids with phones lingered.

“I’ll just stand here. Let them take pictures. Maybe they’ll drive me home too.” He huffs. “Your choice, noona.”

You stare at him, actually speechless for a second.

The audacity. The sheer, unbothered confidence of a teenager who knows he has leverage and fully intends to use it.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” you hiss, stepping closer, lowering your voice like that’ll somehow shrink the tension crackling between you. “If they get pictures of you here, do you know what happens to me? I’m staff, Riki. Staff. I’ll get dragged through the mud before you even blink.”

He shrugs again, and it’s infuriatingly nonchalant, like he’s debating what flavor of chips to buy and not threatening your entire career. “Sounds like a personal problem, noona.”

“Personal—?” Your voice pitches higher. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m also freezing. And tired. And the last train’s gone. So… car keys, please.”

You glared, pulse racing.

This was manipulation. You knew it. You should walk away.

But then his lashes caught neon light, head tilted, voice syrup-sweet.

“C’mon, noona. You’re not really gonna leave me out here, are you?”

“You are impossible,” you hissed.

And then that fuckass victory crinkle at the corner of his eyes.By the time you unlocked your car, he was already inside, mask tugged down, smirking.

“Good girl,” he murmured, buckling his belt. “Knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

Riki’s head thumped back against the seat, as your knees pressed into the leather. His breath hitched, hot against your collarbone, and you dragged his mouth back to yours with a fistful of his hair.

You straddled him, thighs squeezing tight, his hands bruising your hips as you rode him, the leather creaking under the push of your knees.

You were laughing—low, throaty, like you were drunk on him, as you tugged at his shirt, baring him down to damp skin. Every scrape of your nails down his chest tore a sound from his throat he didn’t even recognize.

“F-fuck, noona,” he gasped, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips snapped up hard enough to rattle the car, “Faster,” he begged, voice cracking, and you leaned close enough for your breath to burn hot against his ear.

“You can’t even handle me now, baby. How are you gonna survive when I really fuck you?”

You cupped his jaw in one hand, thumb smearing the sweat at his cheek, and dragged his gaze back up when it threatened to fall. You wanted him to watch. Wanted him to drown in the sight of you riding him like he was nothing more than a seat made for your body.

He could hardly breathe. Every thrust of your hips made the veins in his neck stand out, had his chest heaving as if oxygen was something you controlled.

“Look at you,” you purred, voice steady while his trembled. “All mine. You’ll never get enough, will you?”

His answer was a choked sound, a desperate shake of his head that only made you laugh, cruel and sweet at once. You tightened around him and he nearly lost it, a sob catching in his throat as he jerked up to meet you.

“Say it,” you demanded, nails raking down his chest again. “Say you can’t get enough.”

“I—I can’t,” he stammered, words breaking apart as his hips faltered, pleasure clawing at his spine. “Noona, I can’t—fuck, I can’t—”

“That’s what I thought.”

The backseat rocked with the rhythm of you grinding him down to nothing, his vision blurring at the edges. He was coming apart, strung tight on the sound of your voice, the way you moved like you owned every part of him.

And then—white heat, gutting and violent, tore through him. He spilled with a broken cry, body jerking helplessly, thighs trembling beneath you. Your smirk was the last thing he saw before everything split open—

Riki woke up with a strangled gasp.

Darkness. Ceiling. No car, no heat, no you. Just his room. His sheets. His sweat-soaked shirt clinging to him like a second skin.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Couldn’t. His chest heaved, ribs straining like they might crack open under the pressure, and he stared at the ceiling as if it would rearrange itself into your face if he wished hard enough. 

His lashes fluttered shut, his breath shuddering out in a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh—too breathless, too bitter.

He’d lost count of how many times this had happened. How many times he’d woken up like this, wrung out, still trembling, your voice echoing honey sweet in his ears.

He should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve been ashamed.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

If anything, he wanted to sink deeper into it, wanted the dream to drag him under until he didn’t have to wake up again. The shame didn’t stick anymore; it melted straight into want, something thick and unbearable that left him grinding his teeth because it still wasn’t enough.

He shoved the blanket off, the fabric tangling at his ankles before falling limp to the floor. Cool air rushed over his skin, but he was still burning, cock twitching sticky against ruined boxers.

His hand flexed, restless and useless at his side. He thought about reaching for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in the dark. Just to feel like you were closer than the four walls of this suffocating room.

What would he even say?

Noona, I keep dreaming about you fucking me dumb. Do something about it.

Pathetic.

But true.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the taste of metal still sharp from biting too hard. He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down his chest, smearing sweat. This had been happening for weeks, months maybe—he didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that it was always you. Always your voice, your hands, your laugh, your eyes pinning him down like a knife point.

And he was starting to think it wasn’t just in his head.

Finally, he forced himself upright. His shirt clung damp and cold to his back, boxers sticky and humiliating, every step toward the bathroom heavy. The mirror light stabbed through his skull when it flicked on, but he didn’t look away. He stared.

Messy hair sticking flat to his forehead. Skin slick, flushed like he’d actually been beneath you. Eyes glazed, swollen, desperate.

It almost made him laugh again. You’d put him in this state without even touching him.

He braced his hands on the sink, fingers curling tight over porcelain, head bowing forward. His breath fogged the glass.

And then he saw… a hair tie?

Black, simple, stretched a little thin from overuse.

He’d pocketed it yesterday when you drove him home, fingers sneaking it off the console while you were too busy scolding him about being reckless with paparazzi.

You hadn’t noticed—not when your hands gripped the wheel, not when your eyes cut to the road, not when your voice rose in that calm, stern way that always made his stomach flip. He’d rolled the band between his fingers the entire ride, listening to you, watching the curve of your jaw glow against the passing streetlights, until the urge to keep something—anything—of you had gotten too strong.

Now, standing in the bathroom with it pressed between his fingers, he couldn’t think past the fact that this was yours. It had been wrapped around your wrist, buried in your hair, warm with your skin.

He lifted it without meaning to, knuckles grazing his mouth. The scent was faint, barely there, but his chest stuttered anyway, lungs tight like he’d been punched. His lips parted against the soft elastic, a low, broken sound caught in his throat.

It was pathetic. He knew it. But it didn’t matter.

His knuckles tightened around the hair tie until the elastic bit into his skin. He shouldn’t feel this way over something so small. Over something so… ordinary.

But it wasn’t ordinary, not to him. It was yours. Again, he should’ve felt guilty—there was a time when he might’ve, but all he felt was the faintest shiver at the base of his spine. The knowledge that he could take from you and you’d never know.

He closed his fist around it, pressing until the edge dug half moons into his skin. Not enough. Nothing ever was.

The shower after that should’ve rinsed you off him. But it didn’t. When he finally cut the water, the steam had nowhere left to go but his lungs, thick and suffocating. He dragged a towel across his skin but it felt useless. He was still sticky, raw, and trembling like you’d just pulled him apart with your soft hands.

He dressed in silence. Black sweats, a shirt, nothing special. The hair tie sat on the counter like it was mocking him. He pocketed it before he could think twice, knuckles brushing it once for reassurance. Like he’s carrying you.

The rest of the day went by in pieces, none of them whole. Practice. Choreography. Someone calling his name twice before he answered. He caught himself rolling the hair tie between his fingers in his pocket when no one was looking, thumb rubbing at the seam.

By nightfall, he wasn’t thinking about whether or not it made sense. 

He was just standing in front of your building. 

He could see the faint outline of light under the door, hear the muffled sound of the TV inside.

You were home. He knew it.

His fist lifted before his brain caught up. The knock was too loud, a sharp, hollow crack against the wood that echoed down the empty hallway. He flinched at the sound, knuckles stinging. For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then the shuffle of footsteps, the soft click of a lock.

 The door swung open, and there you were. Not in his dreams this time. Real. Hair loose, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, pretty eyes widening in surprise.

You go to shut the door immediately. Reflex.

But his foot slides in before you can, sneaker wedged against the frame.

“Move.” Your voice comes out sharp and mean.

His gaze flickers down to where your fingers curl around the edge of the door, then back up. He doesn’t move his foot. Instead, he leans further in, palm braced against the frame just above your head.

“Why are you acting like I’m a stranger?” he murmurs, voice rough from disuse.

You push harder at the door. He pushes back with nothing but the weight of his body, casual like he’s not even trying, as if resistance only amuses him.

“Go home, Riki.”

“This is home.” His gaze doesn’t waver. The hallway light catches the sharp angle of his jaw, the damp hair clinging to his temples.

“Let me in,” he says, quieter this time. Not a request.

You shake your head, grip the door harder.

But then his hand moves—slowly sliding down from the frame until his fingers brush over yours. Barely a touch. Enough to make your whole arm jolt.

“You don’t even believe yourself,” he says. Eyes locked on yours, he curls his fingers around yours, and pulls your hand away from the door. 

You stumble forward half a step, the gap widening. He slips inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

The lock slid back into place, and you stood frozen, pulse hammering, your back pressed to the door like it could still shove him out if you just willed it hard enough.

Riki didn’t look around. He didn’t say anything. He just watched you. 

Watched the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed, the way your hands fisted at your sides, the way your eyebrows are slightly frowned.

“Take your shoes off,” you snapped finally, because it was the only thing you could think to say.

Slowly, his mouth twitched. A smirk, faint but there, as he bent to tug at his laces.

“You always nag about the shoes,” he murmured, straightening up. “Even now.”

“Because even now, I’m your stylist,” you shot back. “Not your—” You bit down hard before the word could tumble out.

His head tilted. “Not my what?”

You ignored the question, skirting past him, arms folded tight against your chest.

He trailed you into the living room, steps silent on the hardwood. When you finally stopped, spinning to face him, his gaze dragged slowly over the room before landing back on you.

“Why are you here?” you demanded.

He shrugged, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders loose in a way that made your skin crawl because you knew it was an act. “I told you. I wanted to see you.”

“It’s midnight.”

“So?”

“So, you don’t just show up at people’s doors in the middle of the night like—like—”

“Like what?” His voice was soft, too soft, as he took a step closer.

“Like this,” you snapped, heat rising up your neck. “You can’t keep—”

“Keep…?” He closed the distance in one fluid stride, forcing you back until your calves hit the edge of the sofa, a jolt shooting through you at the sudden halt. He was so close now, body cutting into your space, gaze heavy ready to peel away every flimsy excuse you clung to.

“Keep—” The word strangled in your throat, your mouth dry.

His head tilted, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You swallowed hard, forcing steel into your spine even as your pulse betrayed you. “Keep showing up like you own the place!”

A humorless hum slipped from him, low in his chest. “Feels like you don’t actually want me to stop.”

Your breath caught, a sharp flare of heat burning its way up your neck. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that the air shifted between you. His hand lifted, slowly, hovering near your waist but never quite touching. “You twist them yourself. Every time you look at me like that and then pretend you don’t.”

This time, it was your turn to ask. “Like what?”

His eyes flicked down, lingering for a heartbeat too long before snapping back to yours, unblinking. “Like you’re afraid of what might happen if you don’t send me away.”

His mouth curved, not quite a smile, not a smirk either. Something darker, unhuman even. “Tell me to leave, noona,” he said softly. “Mean it, and I will.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spit the words out, ready to shove him back into the hallway where he belonged—but then his hand finally settled. Just the faintest press of his fingers against your hip, the heat of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your pants.

His touch wasn’t even firm, not insistent, more like… a test? He could’ve grabbed you, could’ve dragged you closer, but instead he stayed there, patient, watching your every flicker.

“Say it,” he murmured again, thumb brushing the curve of your hip bone. “Tell me to stop.”

You could push him away. You should. But your fingers only clenched uselessly at your sides, nails biting into your palms.

He leaned closer, lips nearly grazing your ear when he whispered, “Can’t say it, can you?”

The shiver that shot down your spine betrayed you before you could even breathe a denial.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his mouth curving against the shell of your ear.

Your jaw clenched, but it was useless. you couldn’t disguise the way your chest rose too fast, the way your pulse kicked hard enough to make you sway toward him.

“Riki,” you warned,  but your voice came out thinner than you meant.

His hand tightened, not by much, just enough to anchor you there.

 He wasn’t dragging you closer, wasn’t forcing anything, and that was the problem. Because it meant you were the one leaning into him.

“Say my name like that again.” His breath ghosted over your cheek, warm. “Like you did in my dream.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

This time he did smile, slow and lazy, eyes never leaving yours.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Riki’s smile sharpened. Then, before you could blink, his hand slid higher, from your hip to your waist, fingers curving firm, almost daring you to flinch. The air left your chest in a shaky rush.

“You’re not kicking me out,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his nose brushed the edge of your jaw. “You could, but you won’t.”

 You pressed your hands flat against his chest, meaning to push, but the muscle under your palms was hot and solid, and your fingers curled before you could stop them.

“See?” His voice dropped, rougher now, vibrating against your skin. “You don’t want me gone.”

You shook your head fast, too fast, but the words tangled useless in your throat. His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you a fraction closer until your toes brushed his.

“Riki—” you tried again, sharper, but it cracked at the edges.

“You keep saying my name like that,” he whispered, lips grazing your cheek, “and I’m not gonna stop.”

Your stomach swooped, knees going soft. Every nerve in your body screamed to move, push, pull, something—but you just sat there, fists trembling against his chest, betraying you with every second you didn’t shove him away.

You’d spent years—YEARS—telling yourself this could never happen. Not with him. Not when the world would twist it into something ugly, and shameful. He was younger, always had been, and if anyone ever saw this—if they saw you, they’d say you’d been grooming him, waiting, and lurking. They’d call you a predator before they ever called you human.

It wasn’t even that much. Four years, hardly anything when you said it out loud. He was grown now, nineteen, pushing twenty, not a child, not someone you had any power over. If anything, the years had flipped the balance. He stood taller than you now, broader, stronger, looking down at you like you were the one being cornered.

But none of that would matter, not to anyone else. All they’d remember was that you’d known him when he was smaller, younger, not yet a man. And that was enough to damn you. Enough to make every step you took toward him look wrong.

The thought made bile crawl up your throat, panic prickling your skin. You’d rather be skinned alive than admit you’d always felt something, that sometimes, in your weakest moments, you caught yourself looking too long, caring too much. That some secret, shameful part of you had wanted this long before you could ever allow yourself to think it.

But then his thumb dragged slow circles into your waist, grounding, steady. His body leaned into yours, not crushing but surrounding, and the fear blurred at the edges.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your cheekbone. “You don’t have to be scared of me.”

And fuck, it got you, the tiniest spark of heat flickered low in your stomach.

You hated it. Hated the way your thighs pressed together like you could smother it, hated the way your chest rose too sharp against his, hated that his words, so damn gentle, made your pulse trip harder instead of slowing it down.

“Not scared,” you managed.

“No?” His lips ghosted lower, skimming the corner of your mouth. “Then why are you trembling? Hm?”

Your hands fisted tighter in his shirt, nails digging crescents into the thick fabric. He was too close, too warm, too gentle. You felt caged, not by force but by choice, like your body had already decided for you.

When his thumb slid higher, grazing the underside of your breast, your breath stuttered hard enough to give you away. His gaze flicked down, caught it, and the smirk that curved his mouth nearly undid you.

“Not scared,” you whispered again, weaker now.

“Yeah? Then what?” he pressed, voice low, rough, curling under your skin. His nose brushed your jaw, his mouth grazing your pulse point. “Excited? Turned on?”

Heat surged to your face, a hot, ugly rush of embarrassment, but your hips shifted minutely against him before you could stop yourself. His grip at your waist tightened instantly, like he’d been waiting for that single slip.

He groaned  against your neck, a sound too raw, and needy. “You have no idea what you do to me, noona.”

The word split you open— literally. Your head spun, stomach plunging as the flicker of heat inside you roared, fed by everything you swore you’d never want.

Your legs parted just slightly, enough for his thigh to slot between yours. The friction was subtle, barely there, but it was enough to drag a shaky breath out of you, enough to make your fingers finally stop pretending they meant to push.

“Fuck,” Riki hissed, the sound breaking against your throat as he pressed harder, grinding his thigh up into the heat of you. “Knew it. Knew you’d feel so good like this.”

“Don’t—” You tried, the word collapsing into a gasp as your hips betrayed you, rolling against him without permission. Your nails clawed at his chest, not to push him back but to hold on.

“Don’t what?” His voice was wrecked now, no trace of teasing left, only hunger. His hand slid under your shirt fully, palm rough against your bare skin, dragging higher until your bra gave way beneath his touch. “Don’t make you feel good?”

Your head fell back when his thumb brushed over your nipple, the sharp spark shooting straight down to where you ground helplessly against his thigh. The noise that slipped past your lips didn’t even sound like you—it was too needy, too raw, too much like the thing you swore you’d never be with him.

He swallowed all, kissing you hard, messy, teeth clashing, tongues sliding. His other hand fumbled at the hem of your sweats, tugging until the waistband dipped low on your hips.

“Riki—” It came out strangled, a last-ditch warning, but he didn’t stop.

He only tore his mouth from yours long enough to pant against your lips, “Say you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

But you couldn’t. Your hips moved faster, chasing the relief, chasing him. Shame burned hot in your chest, but the ache between your thighs drowned it out, begging for more.

“Yeah?” he rasped, catching the silent answer in the roll of your body. “That’s what I thought.”

He shoved your sweats down with a harsh drag, the fabric pooling at your knees, leaving you bare against the press of his thigh.

“Shit,” he groaned, grinding up harder, desperate. “So wet already… all for me.”

Your head spun, heat flooding so thick you could barely think.

But then he shifted, pulling back just enough to make your chest heave at the loss of him. Before you could protest, his hands slid down, gripping your hips tight.

“Move,” he muttered, voice shredded, and when you blinked in confusion, he was already sinking back onto the sofa with a grunt.

The world tilted. You landed straddling his lap, thighs spread over his, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of him.

Just like his dream.

“Yeah,” he whispered, head tipping back as his hands spanned your waist, holding you there, pressing you down until the hard length of him strained against the thin barrier of his sweats. “Exactly like I said.”

Your hips rocked once, tentative, and the sound he made, half groan, half curse shot straight through you.

“Noona…” His head fell forward, mouth dragging along your collarbone, teeth scraping before sucking at the skin there. His grip on your waist tightened until you couldn’t stop your core from grinding against him, slick already dampening the fabric between you.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging for balance as his lips chased higher, jaw, throat, chin, then finally crushing back against yours, wet and messy, tongues tangling like neither of you had ever learned how to stop.

The shame whispered wrong, wrong, wrong in the back of your head, but his hands were hot on your skin, his cock straining against you, his voice breaking when he moaned your name—and the part of you that had spent years denying him finally snapped.

Your hips rolled harder, and Riki’s grip on you turned bruising. His head tipped back against the sofa, jaw tight, throat working as a guttural sound tore out of him.

“Fuck—” He cut himself off, biting his lip, eyes blazing up at you. Then his hands were on his waistband, shoving the sweats low enough that the heat of him sprang free, thick and heavy against your stomach.

The shock of it made your breath hitch. Flesh on flesh, no fabric left to save you from how hard he was.

“Feel that?” he rasped, dragging your hips down against him, your heat sliding over his cock. “That’s what you do to me.”

A broken whimper slipped out before you could choke it back. He groaned at the sound, grinding up to meet your slow, shaky roll, the head of him catching perfectly against your clit.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, useless and desperate. “Riki, this—”

“This is mine,” he snapped, rougher now, panting as his lips found your throat again, sucking bruises into skin you’d have to hide tomorrow. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

You gasped, arching into him, pulling him closer. His teeth grazed your collarbone, sending sparks down your spine.

“Say it,” he begged, teeth grazing your ear. “Say you want me.”

And maybe it was the years of denial, maybe it was the weight of his hands on your waist, maybe it was the filthy way his cock slid against you—but the words tore free anyway, ragged and raw.

“I want you.”

His groan was instant, his whole body shuddering beneath you. “Fuck—say it again.”

“I—” Your hips rocked down hard, clit catching against him just right. Your voice broke on the moan that followed. “I want you, Riki.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me,” he gasped, bucking up against you, cock sliding wet and perfect through your folds. “Been waiting for this.”

Something snapped inside you.

Your hand slid up, fingers curling tight in his damp hair, yanking just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth. You pulled back, watching his lips part, glossy and swollen, his chest heaving.

“Slow down,” you murmured, breath ghosting over his mouth. Not a suggestion.

The noise he made shot straight to your core. His hands tightened on your waist, like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. His hips stilled under you, trembling with restraint, waiting for you.

That was when it hit you. The control you hadn’t wanted to admit you had.

You rolled your hips deliberately slow, grinding down against him. His head fell back against the sofa, another strangled sound ripping out of him, and you smiled—sharp, watching him come apart with nothing but the drag of your body over his.

“That’s better,” you breathed, nails dragging down his chest,“Look at you.”

His eyes cracked open, glassy, unfocused, searching for you. “Don’t—fu—don’t tease me.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear, voice steady even while your own thighs trembled. “I’m not teasing baby. I’m showing you how to take it.”

His entire body shuddered at that. You felt it under your palms, the way he melted and strained all at once, like he didn’t know whether to worship you or beg.

You rolled your hips again, slower this time, drawing a wrecked groan from his chest. “Good boy,” you whispered before you could stop yourself, the words slipping free, too natural.

Riki choked on his breath, hips jerking helplessly up into you, like that single phrase had shattered him.

Your hands slid up from his chest to his throat, not squeezing—just resting there, thumb brushing lazily over the frantic beat of his pulse. His breath stuttered, eyes wide, and the sound that crawled out of his throat was half-moan, half-plea.

“Sensitive,” you murmured, tilting your head, watching the way he shivered beneath you. “You like when I touch you here, sweetheart?”

His answer came out broken. “Y-yeah.”

Your hips rolled again, slow, dragging slick over the length of him. His body arched up into yours, and your grip at his throat firmed—not to choke, just to keep him still. “Then stay still for me.”

He whimpered, actually whimpered, as his nails dug into your thighs. But he obeyed. His eyes squeezed shut, teeth sinking into his lip hard enough to draw blood, but his hips stayed pressed to the sofa just like you told him.

The sight made your cunt clench around nothing, desperate. You shifted, angling your hips, and with one slow push, you slid down onto him, inch by inch, stretching around the thick length of his cock until you were full, and stuffed nicely.

His hands flew to your waist, but you caught his wrists, pressing them down into the cushions, pinning him there. His chest heaved, eyes blown wide, staring up at you like you were something holy.

“Fuck—noona—”

“Shh.” You rocked your hips once, shallow, just enough to make him choke on the word. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your hips dropped hard, swallowing him whole, and Riki’s strangled cry ripped through the room. His head thudded back against the sofa again, and again, throat exposed, hands flexing uselessly under your grip where you pinned them down.

“That’s it,” you breathed, grinding down on him, feeling every twitch, every pulse. “Take it.”

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw slack as a wrecked moan poured out of him. He tried to thrust up, tried to meet you, but you kept him pinned, rocking on his cock at your own pace—slow, then sharp, rolling your hips until he was gasping.

“Look at you,” you whispered, leaning down to bite at his throat, your breath hot against his skin. “All those years acting grown, acting like you could handle me. And now?” You circled your hips, and his entire body shuddered, cock pulsing deep inside you. “Now you’re shaking.”

“I—fuck—I can’t—” He broke off with a sob, wrists twitching beneath your grip, but you only pushed harder, grinding down until he was whining into your shoulder.

“Yes, you can.” You let go of his wrists only to drag his hands higher, pinning them above his head this time. Your nails dug into his skin, claiming. “You’ll take everything I give you, Riki. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he gasped, eyes glassy, mouth falling open. “Wanted it so bad—fuck—I dreamed about it, noona, I—”

“Dreaming about me?” You bent low, your lips brushing his, your pace never faltering. “And what did I do to you in those dreams, hm?”

His chest heaved under yours, sweat slick and burning hot. His eyes fluttered shut, a low sound ripping from his throat as you ground down on him, hard, coaxing it out.

“Tell me,” you demanded, your hand slipping from his wrists to curl around his throat again.

“I—I shouldn’t—” His voice cracked, strangled, but his cock twitched inside you again, betraying him.

 “You already gave yourself away. Now say the rest.”

His head tipped back, throat arching beautifully beneath your palm. “I dreamed—fuck—I dreamed you… rode me. Just like this.” His voice broke into a moan when you slammed down harder, milking every word from him.

“Yeah?” Your laugh was breathless, taunting. “You dreamed of me using you like this? Keeping you under me, making you take it?”

“Yes—yes!—” he gasped, hips jerking uselessly beneath your hold. “You wouldn’t stop—you made me—”

“Made you what?” Your nails dug lightly into his skin, hips grinding faster, chasing both of you toward the edge.

His eyes snapped open, wild and glassy, his mouth spilling the filth you knew he’d been hiding. “Made me cum in you. Over and over. Didn’t let me go. Said I was yours.”

The words slammed into you, molten and devastating. Your thighs trembled, a broken moan clawing its way out of you as you rode him harder, harder.

“And you liked it?” Your voice was sweet, your lips brushing his ear as you pushed him deeper inside. “Liked me using you like my toy?”

His answer was a sob, desperate and raw. “Loved it—love it now—fuck, noona, please—don’t stop—”

“Look at me,” you demanded, your voice ragged but sharp.

He obeyed instantly, his gaze snapping to yours, dark and desperate, pupils blown wide. Sweat dripped down his temple as he panted, "I'm looking—fuck—I'm looking at you." His hips jerked, trying to thrust deeper, but you tightened your thighs around him, controlling the pace, letting him feel every inch without letting him take more.

Your hand slid from his throat to his jaw, fingers digging in as you ground down hard, drawing a guttural cry from him. "You think you deserve to cum?"

His hips bucked helplessly beneath you, cock twitching deep inside where he was buried to the hilt. "Only—only if you let me,"

You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear as you rolled your hips in slow, agonizing circles. "Then beg properly." Your free hand slid between your bodies, fingertips finding your clit. "Show me how much you need it."

His breath hitched, eyes locked on yours as his hips trembled beneath your control. "Please," he choked out, voice cracking. "Please let me cum, noona. I need it—need you—fuck, I'll do anything—"

Your fingers circled your clit faster, matching the punishing pace of your hips. "Louder," you demanded, grinding down until he cried out, the sound raw and broken. "Tell me why you deserve it."

Riki's back arched off the sofa, muscles straining as he gasped, "Because I'm yours—all yours—" His voice shattered on a moan as your thumb pressed hard against your clit. "Please—I'll be good—I'll be so so good—"

His words dissolved into ragged cries when you slammed down onto him, grinding deep, the wet slap of skin echoing in the small apartment. You’re definitely gonna get a noise complaint.

you hissed against his mouth, your hand still cupping his jaw, nails biting just enough to leave crescents in his skin. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours—” he gasped, voice gone high and ruined, “all yours—noona, please—”

His fingers dug into your hips, desperate, but you caught one of his wrists and pinned it to the sofa above his head again, keeping him open, helpless. With your other hand you slid back down between your thighs, circling your clit as you rode him.

He let out a broken moan, eyes wide and wet. “Pleasepleaseplease—need to cum—”

“You’ll cum when I say,” you murmured, your voice breaking on a groan of your own as the pleasure built low in your belly. You bent down until your nose brushed his, eyes locked. “Do you understand?”

His throat worked, a strangled sound escaping as he nodded frantically. “Yes—yes, I understand!”

Your thumb flicked your clit harder, faster, your hips moving in a brutal rhythm now, squeezing him tight with every thrust. “So good for me,” you breathed, the words ragged, almost surprised as they left your lips, and his whole body shuddered at the sound, eyes rolling back for a second.

A strangled sob tore from his throat, his muscles trembling under your weight, his cock pulsing deep inside you. “Noona—please—please—need it so bad—”

You rocked down hard, harder, until your clit dragged perfectly over his pubic bone, a gasp escaping you at the sudden rush of heat spiralling up your spine. “You want to cum?” you demanded, your voice shaking with it now. “You want to fill me up like you did in your dream?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—” he almost screamed it, his voice cracking, his body arching beneath you like a bowstring pulled too tight. Sweat slicked his chest, his eyes wild and unfocused, pupils blown black with need. His cock throbbed deep inside you, pulsing with every ragged breath he took, and you knew he was so close—right on the edge.

“Then do it, baby” you commanded, your voice low and ragged. “Show me how much you want it.”

The words broke him. His back arched off the sofa, a hoarse cry ripping from his chest as he spilled into you, hips jerking helplessly beneath your grip. The feeling of him pulsing, filling you, dragged your own release out of you, your nails digging into his jaw as you rode it out, grinding down on him until he whimpered, oversensitive.

You stayed there, panting, forehead pressed to his, still holding his face in your hand. His eyes were blown wide, glassy, his lips parted in a dazed little smile.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was too small for the sound of your breathing, too quiet except for the wet slide of your bodies as you finally sagged forward, boneless, still full of him.

Riki’s hands trembled where they’d crept up to your waist, fingers flexing like he didn’t know whether to hold you closer or let go. You could feel his pulse hammering through his chest, hot against your palms where you still cupped his jaw.

“Hey…” His voice was a rasp, almost a whisper. His thumb brushed a damp strand of hair back from your cheek, hesitant, like he was scared you’d flinch. “You’re shaking.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. Now that the heat had passed, reality seeped back in, heavy and cold. You became aware of everything at once — the sweat cooling on your skin, the faint bruises his hands had left on your hips, the way his cock still pulsed inside you with every shallow breath.

“I know,” you managed, your voice low, and shaky.

He searched your face, eyes wide and dark but not demanding anymore. Just watching. Waiting.

“You okay?” The question was soft, almost boyish, a crack of vulnerability that twisted in your gut. “Tell me you’re okay.”

You shut your eyes for a beat, breathing him in — his scent, his warmth, the way he still hadn’t tried to move. Not forcing. Not dragging. Just… there. Waiting for you to decide.

Your nails eased out of his jaw. You let your forehead rest against his again, breaths mingling. “I’m okay,” you whispered, even if the words didn’t feel real yet.

His hands loosened on your waist, sliding up to your back instead, palms broad and warm as they stroked you once, twice, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “I didn’t mean to—” he started, but you cut him off with a soft shake of your head.

“Don’t,” you breathed, your voice breaking. “Don’t say sorry.”

Riki went still, eyes searching yours. “Then what do I say?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not yet. The shame was still there, coiled in your chest, but so was the aftermath of your orgasm, the heat of his body, the way his face had looked when he begged. It was too much to take in all at once.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the sudden sensitivity, and he hissed, hands automatically tightening on your hips to steady you. “Easy,” he murmured, the word almost tender.

That single sound almost undid you more than everything else.

You leaned back enough to look at him, to really see him. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his lips swollen, his pupils still blown wide. But his expression — god, his expression — was open, unguarded, a little scared. Like he was waiting for you to scold him.

Your throat ached. “Riki…”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

You almost told him it couldn’t happen again. You almost climbed off his lap, almost shoved the shame back into the box you’d kept it in for years. But your hands betrayed you again, sliding up to cup his face, thumbs brushing his rosy cheeks.

For a moment he just melted into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, leaning into your palms.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted, your voice thin and cracked. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

He opened his eyes then, slow and careful, gaze steady even as his breath shook. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly,  almost shy. “If you want to.”

Your stomach flipped. He was still inside you, still hardening again already, but he didn’t move. Didn’t push. Just waited.

For the first time since he’d touched you, you felt like you were breathing on your own.