XO

You thought you had gotten away with it.

Sneaking out of Ni-ki’s apartment that morning — hair a mess, legs still a little shaky from the night before — wearing his oversized black t-shirt because you couldn’t find your dress and were too embarrassed to search while he slept. You barely remembered to grab your shoes. You figured he’d tease you if he saw, the way he always did, and you weren’t in the mood for the smug grin you knew he’d wear.

But you underestimated him.

Badly.

Later that day, when you met up at Sunghoon’s place for a casual group dinner, Ni-ki was already there — sitting back on the couch, legs spread lazily, spinning his phone between his fingers.

When you walked in, his eyes locked onto yours immediately.

He smiled.

Slow. Knowing. Dangerous.

You felt your stomach drop.

“Come here,” he murmured under his breath when you passed him, low enough that no one else heard.

You barely made it to him before he grabbed your wrist — pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap, his breath brushing your ear as he leaned in.

“You thought you could just steal my shirt and run?” he whispered, voice dark and amused. “You’re not getting away that easy, baby.”

You opened your mouth to stammer some excuse, but he was already slipping something small and cold into your hand — a tiny remote. You blinked down at it, confused.

Then you felt it.

Something nestled deep inside you — vibrating, soft but persistent — and your whole body jerked against him.

Your cheeks flamed instantly. “Ni-ki—”

“Shh,” he said sweetly, slipping the remote out of your hands and into his own pocket. “Be good for me. Dinner’s just starting.”

And then he was gone — standing up and stretching like nothing had happened, leaving you sitting there stunned, clenching around the toy helplessly as you tried to catch your breath.

Dinner was a nightmare.

Ni-ki barely looked at you at first, just chatting casually with Sunghoon, Jungwon, and the others like he wasn’t driving you insane under the table.

Then — when your guard was down — he hit the button.

The toy buzzed to life inside you at full strength.

You almost dropped your fork.

You clamped your thighs together, hands gripping the edge of the table, trying to breathe normally as conversation buzzed around you. Ni-ki caught your eye across the table and smiled, all teeth and mischief.

You shook your head desperately — mouthing a silent please — but he only cranked it up higher.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound, hips twitching slightly under the tablecloth. Ni-ki’s eyes darkened, watching you squirm, and he let it go just long enough for you to start to relax—then pulsed it again.

Over and over.

Until your legs were trembling, tears prickling at your eyes, and you couldn’t focus on a single thing anyone was saying.

“Are you okay?” Jungwon asked suddenly, concerned.

You nodded too fast. “Fine!” you squeaked.

Ni-ki snickered under his breath, finally letting the vibration slow to a dull thrum.

When dinner finally ended, you could barely walk straight.

Your legs were weak, your underwear embarrassingly soaked, and Ni-ki was watching you like he already owned you — all smug, lazy dominance behind half-lidded eyes. But he didn’t grab you immediately. No. He waited. Let you squirm through another ten minutes of painful small talk with the guys, smiling all innocent, while you sat there with the toy still humming inside you, your body betraying you more and more with every second.

Finally, when you thought you were going to either cry or climb into his lap in front of everyone, you broke.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, nails digging into his skin as you hissed under your breath, “Please.”

He leaned in lazily, cocking an eyebrow. “Please what?”

You were burning with humiliation, but it didn’t matter anymore. You needed him. Needed him to touch you, to fuck you, to do anything.

“Turn it off,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Touch me, Ni-ki. Please.”

For a second, he just looked at you — gaze dark, unreadable — and you felt your stomach twist in panic.

But then he smiled. Real slow.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

He slipped the remote out of his pocket and clicked it once — the toy finally dying inside you. Relief hit you so hard you almost sagged into him.

And then he stood up, stretching, cracking his neck casually like he wasn’t about to wreck you six ways from Sunday.

“You’re coming with me,” he said simply, grabbing your hand and towing you behind him without a backward glance at the others.

No one even questioned it. Maybe they figured you were getting air. Maybe they didn’t notice the way your thighs were still shaking.

But Ni-ki knew.

And he wasn’t planning to let you off easy.

He barely got the door closed before he was on you — shoving you back against the wall, kissing you like he was starving. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your thighs, yanking your hips against his like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned against your mouth, his fingers slipping easily over your ruined panties. “You’ve been holding it this whole time, huh? So desperate for me you couldn’t even sit still.”

You whimpered, clutching at his shoulders, overwhelmed.

“I—I couldn’t,” you stammered. “I was trying—Ni-ki, please, please—”

“Shh,” he cooed, almost mockingly, sliding your panties aside. “I got you, baby. You’re gonna let go for me now, yeah?”

He dropped to his knees before you could answer, hooking your legs over his shoulders like you weighed nothing. His tongue licked a slow stripe up your soaked pussy, groaning deep in his chest like he was tasting heaven itself.

You cried out, back arching against the wall. It was too much. Too good. All the teasing, all the frustration from the whole night — it was crashing into you all at once, uncontrollable.

“Come on,” Ni-ki muttered against you, voice thick with want. “Squirt for me. I know you need to.”

The words broke something inside you.

With a choked sob, you shattered — your whole body jerking, hips grinding against his face as you gushed uncontrollably. It felt like everything inside you poured out all at once, messy and soaking and absolutely filthy.

Ni-ki groaned like he was the one coming, gripping your thighs to keep you still as he lapped at everything you gave him, not caring how soaked his shirt was getting. His tongue didn’t let up, dragging slow and deep through your folds even as your thighs trembled violently.

When you finally tried to squirm away, too sensitive, he just chuckled darkly.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he teased, standing up with you still weak against the wall. His mouth and chin were shiny, eyes dark with hunger. “You don’t get to run now.”

He kissed you hard, messy and deep, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled against your lips, grinding his hard cock against your sore, dripping pussy. “And I’m not stopping until you’re crying for real.”

Ni-ki didn’t even give you a second to catch your breath.

He spun you around, pushing you chest-first against the wall, yanking your panties the rest of the way off. You barely had time to gasp before you felt him dragging the fat head of his cock through your soaked folds, teasing your entrance.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and take it,” he rasped against your ear, his voice low and wrecked. “Gonna let me fuck you until you can’t even think.”

You whimpered, nodding frantically, legs already trembling from how wrecked you were.

He pushed inside in one smooth, brutal thrust, splitting you open so fast you screamed — loud, desperate, no control left in your body. Ni-ki groaned brokenly, sinking all the way to the hilt, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises later.

“You’re so loud, baby,” he panted, pulling out halfway and slamming back in, forcing another sharp cry from your throat. “You want everyone to know you’re getting fucked stupid, huh?”

You couldn’t answer. All you could do was moan, mind blank, the filthy wet sounds of him pounding into you filling the room.

It built fast — the heat, the pressure, the unbearable pleasure. He fucked you so deep every thrust hit that perfect spot, and with your body already so sensitive, it wasn’t long before you were clawing at the wall, sobbing his name.

“Ni-ki—Ni-ki, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he snarled. “Wanna feel you soak my cock, pretty girl. Come all over me.”

That was it. That was all it took.

You screamed — loud, raw, no shame — as your body seized up, squirting so hard it splashed down your thighs, soaking the floor between you. You gushed around him, the feeling of it so intense you thought you might black out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ni-ki cursed, slamming in deep and grinding against your overstimulated pussy. “You’re unreal, baby. Look at you, making a fucking mess.”

You sobbed, half from pleasure, half from how overwhelming it all was.

And still, he didn’t stop.

He fucked you through it, deep and slow now, murmuring filthy praises in your ear as your body shuddered against the wall.

“My perfect girl,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. “So good for me. So pretty when you break.”

You were trembling so badly Ni-ki finally pulled out, catching you before your knees gave out completely.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, voice still thick with arousal but so gentle it made your heart ache. He scooped you up easily, carrying you across the room like you weighed nothing, and laid you down carefully on the bed.

You barely had time to breathe before he crawled over you again, staring down at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still with me, baby?” he whispered, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead.

You nodded weakly, blinking up at him with hazy, teary eyes.

His mouth quirked into a cocky smile — but his touch was so careful as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, lining himself up again. He slid two fingers down to your entrance, feeling how absolutely soaked and sensitive you were.

“You’re still dripping for me,” he said lowly, voice full of awe. “God, you’re perfect.”

You whimpered, grabbing at his shoulders, overwhelmed but desperate for more.

“One more, baby,” Ni-ki murmured, kissing your ankle. “Just one more for me, yeah?”

You nodded helplessly.

And then he pushed back inside — slow, deep, filling you up so good it knocked the breath from your lungs.

You were wrecked, body twitching with every stroke, clinging to him like you might fall apart again. Ni-ki kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw — whispering soft praises even as he drove into you hard enough to shake the bed.

“So good for me,” he breathed. “So sweet. Taking it so well.”

You sobbed his name, feeling the tight coil snap again — another orgasm ripping through you, even stronger than the last, leaving you shaking and gasping in his arms.

Ni-ki groaned against your neck, his rhythm breaking as he spilled inside you, hips jerking uncontrollably.

He stayed there for a long moment, panting against your skin, both of you completely ruined.

It all started because of Woonhak.

You’d been friends with him for a while now — the loudest, most chaotic part of your life, the boy who texted you seventeen times a day and dragged you into his endless schemes without even asking. So when he told you he wanted to introduce you to his friends, you didn’t think much of it.

“They’re not normal,” Woonhak warned, grinning like he was proud of it. “You’ll see.”

You didn’t really get it — not until you were standing awkwardly in Leehan’s living room, clutching a soda and feeling about as out of place as a cactus at a water park.

That’s when you met Jaehyun.

He was… sunshine. That was the only way you could describe it. Black hair flopping into his eyes, bright grin that crinkled the corners of his face, voice a little raspy from laughing too much. He bounded over like he’d known you for years, practically tackling Woonhak into a hug mid-sentence before turning to you with a wide, sparkly smile.

“Hi!! You must be Woonhak’s normal friend,” he teased, throwing a pointed look at Woonhak, who immediately tried to punch him in the arm.

Somehow, you found yourself laughing — real, belly-deep laughing — within minutes. Jaehyun had that effect on people. He didn’t just smile; he beamed. He didn’t just laugh; he giggled and clapped and doubled over like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He had no chill, no filter, and apparently no concept of personal space because five minutes later he was slinging his arm around your shoulders like you’d always been part of their group.

“Isn’t she cute?” Jaehyun declared, squeezing you closer while Woonhak made gagging noises in the background.

“Stop,” you laughed, shoving at him — but he just grinned wider.

Over the next few weeks, it became a regular thing: movie nights at Leehan’s place, late-night convenience store runs with Woonhak and Riwoo, getting dragged into Taesan’s weird pranks (and somehow always losing). Jaehyun was always there, a golden retriever in human form — ruffling your hair, teasing you for everything, poking your cheeks and calling you “squishy” until you smacked his hands away.

He had insane cuteness aggression, especially with the boys. He was constantly hugging Leehan out of nowhere, squishing Riwoo’s cheeks until he whined, flopping across Woonhak’s lap dramatically just because he could. He even tried to kiss Taesan’s cheek once, but Taesan saw it coming and dodged so hard Jaehyun nearly fell over the couch.

“One day,” Jaehyun vowed, shaking his fist. “I will kiss you, Taesan, you can’t run forever!”

“You’re insane,” Taesan deadpanned, but even he was hiding a smile.

It didn’t take long for your friendship with Jaehyun to shift into something… different.

It was little things at first: the way he started lingering a little longer when he hugged you, the way he found reasons to text you late at night (“i saw a duck and thought of u,” “do u think ghosts get scared too”), the way he looked at you when you laughed like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You tried not to overthink it. He was Jaehyun — sweet, touchy, impossible Jaehyun. He was like this with everyone… right?

But then there was the night you stayed over after movie night, curled up in a blanket on the floor because Woonhak had stolen the couch and the others were already snoring around the room.

You were trying not to shiver when a blanket landed on top of you — and Jaehyun sat down right next to you, tucking the edges in carefully like you were something precious.

“I really like you, y/n,” he mumbled suddenly, almost too soft for you to hear.

You turned to look at him — and he kissed your forehead, quick and clumsy, like he couldn’t stop himself.

Your heart absolutely exploded.

The next morning, Woonhak caught you two sneaking glances at each other across the kitchen and immediately groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“This is so gross,” he whined. “I regret everything. I should’ve left you guys strangers.”

“You love us,” Jaehyun teased, tossing a piece of cereal at him.

“I want a refund on life,” Woonhak declared dramatically, dodging it.

Jaehyun just laughed — bright and beautiful — and reached over to squish your cheeks.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he said, and his smile was so warm you almost forgot to breathe.

It got worse after that.

Jaehyun didn’t even try to hide it anymore. If you so much as yawned, he was draping his jacket over your shoulders like a doting grandparent. If you said you were cold, he tugged you into his side without hesitation. He kept sneaking kisses too — on your forehead, your temple, sometimes even your hand like you were royalty — and every single time, you went stiff as a board because everyone was watching.

Especially Woonhak, who looked one second away from throwing himself into the nearest trashcan out of secondhand embarrassment.

“You guys make me sick,” he grumbled one day, watching Jaehyun fix the hood of your jacket for the third time in five minutes. “Like actual stomach pain.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jaehyun chirped, poking Woonhak’s side.

Meanwhile, Riwoo was busy dramatically pretending to puke into a bag, Leehan was shaking his head fondly like an exhausted single parent, Sungho looked vaguely amused (but very much like he was taking mental notes for future teasing), and Taesan just gave Jaehyun a long, unimpressed stare.

“You’re whipped,” Taesan declared, sipping his drink. “Pathetic.”

Jaehyun only grinned, completely unaffected. “Thanks, I know.”

And then — because apparently he didn’t know the meaning of shame — Jaehyun stood up, clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention like a camp counselor about to announce a trust fall, and blurted:

“I’m asking her out.”

Silence.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun said brightly, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Cue absolute chaos.

Riwoo immediately dropped his phone and screamed.

Woonhak threw himself backward onto the couch like he’d been mortally wounded.

Sungho started laughing so hard he almost fell over.

Leehan looked like he wanted to say something but was too busy trying to keep Riwoo from actually collapsing.

Taesan just stood there shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was associated with any of you.

“THIS IS HAPPENING??” Woonhak shouted from where he was lying dramatically across the couch cushions. “IN FRONT OF ME?? IN MY OWN HOUSE??”

Jaehyun ignored all of them, smiling only at you — bright and sure and a little bit nervous around the edges.

You could barely hear yourself over the chaos, but you said yes anyway — and Jaehyun beamed, grabbing your hands and spinning you around like an overexcited golden retriever.

“Disgusting,” Woonhak muttered loudly, covering his face.

“I’m getting married first,” Jaehyun sing-songed back, hugging you close.

“You’re barely adults!” Taesan called after him, but he didn’t sound all that convincing.

At that moment — messy and loud and full of too much love — you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Woonhak absolutely lost his mind the first time he caught you and Jaehyun kissing.

It wasn’t even that dramatic — just a quick, sweet kiss when you thought no one was looking. You were standing by the kitchen counter, Jaehyun tugging gently at your sleeves like he couldn’t not touch you, and you leaned up to peck him on the lips.

But of course.

Of course Woonhak walked in at that exact moment, holding a bowl of popcorn, and immediately let out a sound so shrill and horrified it made everyone else jump.

“OH MY GOD!” he shrieked, dropping the bowl.

Popcorn exploded everywhere — bouncing off the floor, the counters, even hitting Riwoo in the head as he came running to see what was wrong.

“WHAT WHAT WHAT,” Riwoo shouted, skidding to a stop.

“They’re—” Woonhak pointed accusingly, like he’d just witnessed a crime. “They’re making out in the kitchen!”

“We kissed once!” you protested, laughing helplessly as Jaehyun tried (and failed) to look innocent.

“This is betrayal,” Woonhak moaned dramatically, sinking to his knees in the popcorn. “I introduce you to my friend and now you’re— you’re kissing in my kitchen! Under my roof!”

Jaehyun just pulled you closer, grinning ear-to-ear. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t,” Woonhak said, voice cracking. “I’m gonna wither away.”

Meanwhile, Sungho was laughing so hard he had to hold onto Leehan for support, Taesan was filming the whole thing on his phone with zero shame, and Riwoo just started eating the popcorn off the floor like it was no big deal.

In the middle of it all, Jaehyun bent down, brushed a kiss to your cheek, and murmured — so only you could hear:

“I’m never letting you go.”

And even though Woonhak was still whining dramatically in the background, and Riwoo was throwing popcorn at Taesan, and Sungho and Leehan were trying (and failing) to restore order — you swore you’d never felt happier.

Messy, noisy, chaotic.

But full of love.

Exactly where you were meant to be.

Eventually, after what felt like forever — after Woonhak finished dramatically mourning his “lost innocence,” after Taesan finally stopped filming, after Sungho managed to bribe Riwoo away with promises of bubble tea — the others filtered out, leaving you and Jaehyun blessedly alone in the kitchen.

For a second, it was silent.

You looked at him, he looked at you — and then you both broke into laughter again, breathless and giddy, leaning into each other like you couldn’t help it.

“God, they’re so dramatic,” you wheezed, wiping at your eyes.

Jaehyun grinned, nose scrunching in that way that made your heart do stupid little flips. “You’d think we committed a felony.”

You leaned your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Maybe we did. Betrayed Woonhak’s trust or something.”

“He’ll live,” Jaehyun said, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing just a little tighter than necessary. His chin bumped the top of your head as he murmured, softer now, “You’re mine now, right?”

Your breath caught a little — because even though he was teasing, there was something real and serious underneath his voice.

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

The way Jaehyun beamed — like you just told him he won the lottery — made your chest ache in the best way.

He leaned down, kissed your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips — slow and sweet and so full of feeling it made your toes curl.

“You’re my favorite person,” he mumbled between kisses, voice getting a little rougher, a little more shy.

You smiled against his mouth. “You’re mine too.”

For a long moment, the world faded out. No loud friends. No flying popcorn. No chaotic screaming. Just Jaehyun, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly right.

You and Jake had never really gotten along the way real siblings did. Maybe it was because you weren’t, not really. Your parents had gotten married a few years ago, blending two completely different worlds together — your polished, structured life and Jake’s laid-back, sunny existence. He was loud, messy, endlessly teasing; you were stubborn, sarcastic, quick to snap back. Somehow, that push and pull had become the background noise of your house.

But lately… things had felt different.

It started small. Jake would look at you too long when you passed him in the hallway. His teasing would edge into something that felt heavier, rougher. And you — embarrassingly — noticed things about him you shouldn’t have. How broad his shoulders had gotten after all those soccer practices. How his hair fell into his eyes when he laughed. How he smelled like cologne and clean laundry whenever he brushed past you.

It was wrong. It was stupid. You tried to shake it off.

Until one afternoon, when it all came crashing down.

You were changing in your room, stripping off your jeans and shirt to pull on something comfier. The door was cracked open just a little — you thought you were alone. You swore you were alone.

But then the door creaked, and you froze, half-dressed, staring wide-eyed as Jake leaned casually against the doorframe.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then Jake’s gaze dropped — slow, deliberate — and dragged over every bare inch of you. His mouth twitched into the faintest smirk.

“You knew I was home, didn’t you?” he said, voice low and accusing, almost like a growl.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Heat rushed to your face, your chest. You fumbled for your shirt, panic flaring, but Jake didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just kept staring, eating you alive with his eyes.

“You’re not even sorry,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe it.

And deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you knew he was right.

You yanked your shirt over your head and screamed, “Jake, get out!” so loudly it probably shook the windows.

He finally moved — but not before flashing you a look you couldn’t quite name. Something dark. Hungry. Like he wasn’t even sorry.

You slammed the door behind him, heart hammering, face on fire. For a minute, you just stood there, breathing hard, willing the embarrassment to go away.

It only got worse.

Later that night, as you were lying in bed, trying to scroll mindlessly through your phone to forget everything, you heard it — the low, unmistakable sounds coming from down the hall.

At first, you thought maybe you were imagining it. But then you heard it again. Soft, breathy moans. Skin hitting skin.

Your whole body locked up when you caught it — your name, groaned low and broken.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, heart pounding so hard it hurt. You shouldn’t be hearing this. You shouldn’t want to hear this. And yet you lay there frozen, every nerve on fire, cheeks burning so hot you thought they might melt.

The next morning, you couldn’t even look at him.

You avoided Jake like the plague — skipping breakfast, locking yourself in your room, slipping past him in the hallway without meeting his eyes. Every time you thought about it, that humiliating sound replayed in your head, sparking something sinful low in your stomach.

Your parents noticed immediately.

“Are you two fighting again?” your mom asked at dinner, frowning between you.

Jake just smirked, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth like he didn’t have a care in the world. His knee brushed yours under the table — maybe an accident, maybe not — and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Sometimes you caught him staring, too. When you wore one of your shorter skirts or bent over the counter a little too far, you could feel his gaze burning into you. It made your skin prickle, made you shift under the intensity of it, and made the tension between you coil tighter and tighter until it was a miracle either of you were still pretending nothing was wrong.

But you both knew.

You both knew.

And eventually… something was going to break.

It finally snapped one night when your parents went out to dinner, leaving just the two of you alone in the house.

You tried to pretend everything was normal — flipping through the TV channels, pretending to be interested in some dumb movie — but you could feel Jake behind you. Sitting on the other end of the couch. Not talking. Barely breathing. Watching.

Every hair on your body stood on end.

You tried not to look, but when you shifted slightly to grab the remote, your tank top rode up, exposing just a sliver of your stomach — and you felt the way his gaze dropped, lingering. Heavy.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You tightened your grip on the remote and cleared your throat. “Can you not stare?”

Silence.

When you finally risked a glance at him, Jake was leaned back, arms thrown casually over the back of the couch — but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at you. His eyes were dark, almost hungry, and when he spoke, his voice was low and slow, like he was barely holding something back.

“You wore that on purpose,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“You knew I’d be home,” he murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, eyes dragging down your body again, and it made your thighs press together instinctively. “You knew I’d see you.”

“No, I didn’t—” you started, voice high and defensive, but he cut you off.

“Didn’t you?” Jake’s voice dropped even lower. “Walking around half-dressed… looking at me like that…”

“I wasn’t—!” you protested, heat flooding your face, but he just chuckled under his breath — dark and disbelieving.

He stood slowly, towering over you now, and you shrank back into the couch, pulse thundering in your ears.

Jake leaned down, one hand braced on either side of your head, boxing you in completely. His breath was hot against your cheek.

“Keep lying to me,” he whispered, voice rough. “See what happens.”

Your whole body lit up like a struck match.

You should have pushed him away. Should have said something. But instead you just sat there frozen, your fingers curling tight around the hem of your shirt, your body screaming for him even as your brain short-circuited.

He was so close you could smell his cologne — fresh and warm — and see the way his pupils had blown wide with want.

Jake was the one who moved first.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, and for a long, heavy moment, neither of you said anything. Just breathing each other in, hearts racing, tension snapping and sparking between you like a live wire.

And then — God help you — you leaned up first.

Just the smallest tilt of your head.

It was all he needed.

Jake crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your gasp, his hands already sliding under your thighs to haul you into his lap like he couldn’t stand one more second of not touching you.

Jake kissed you like he was starving. Like he’d been holding back for months and finally, finally cracked. His hands roamed everywhere — up your sides, squeezing your hips, sliding under your shirt to grab handfuls of bare skin. You moaned into his mouth, thighs tightening around his waist, and that was all it took for him to groan low in his throat and tip you back against the couch cushions.

“You have no idea,” he muttered against your lips, breath ragged. “No fucking idea what you do to me.”

You whimpered, arching into him without even thinking. Every part of you was lit up, buzzing, desperate to get closer. You fumbled at the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he helped you rip it off — tossing it somewhere behind the couch — before returning to your mouth, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough.

Somewhere in the haze, you slid your hand down, palming him through his jeans — and Jake shuddered, hips bucking instinctively into your touch.

“Fuck,” he growled, forehead dropping to yours. “Baby, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You grinned, breathless, and slid down to your knees without a second thought.

Jake watched you the whole way down — chest heaving, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt — and when you palmed him again, teasing, he let out a broken noise that made you ache.

“Please,” you whispered, fingers fumbling with his zipper. “Want to taste you.”

His hand tangled roughly in your hair as you freed him, eyes flashing dark as you wrapped your lips around the tip. He was already half-hard, heavy and hot against your tongue, and when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked gently, he cursed, the sound ripped straight from his chest.

“God—fuck, just like that,” Jake hissed, tightening his grip on your hair and forcing you down a little more. “So fucking pretty like this.”

You moaned around him, which made his hips jerk — pushing deeper into your mouth — and suddenly he was the one losing control, fucking into your throat in shallow, desperate thrusts.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you loved it, loved how wrecked he sounded, how much he clearly needed you. You reached down between your own legs, too needy to care anymore, but before you could even slip a hand under your shorts, Jake yanked you back by your hair.

“Nuh-uh,” he panted, voice rough and wrecked. “Don’t you dare.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and dripping.

“But—”

“I said no,” Jake growled, thumb swiping over your wet bottom lip. “You don’t get to touch yourself. You want to cum, you do it on me.”

Your stomach flipped so violently you swayed a little.

“Get up here,” Jake ordered, voice wrecked. “Now.”

You scrambled into his lap, your heart hammering, legs shaking — and Jake just grinned, dark and feral, guiding you to straddle him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a filthy kiss to your throat. “Now let me ruin you properly.”

Jake grabbed your hips, grinding you down against the thick, hot line of his cock still straining inside his jeans. The friction made you gasp, made you chase it helplessly, rubbing yourself over him with little broken noises you couldn’t hold back.

“Feel that?” he rasped against your ear. “You did that. Getting me this fucking hard just from looking at you.”

You whimpered, rocking your hips harder, chasing some kind of relief, but Jake’s grip tightened — holding you still, making you whine in frustration.

“Not yet,” he said roughly. “You don’t get it that easy, baby. You want it? Beg.”

You were already trembling, drunk on him, on the way he talked to you like you were something precious he still wanted to ruin.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to move again, but he just smirked, smug and dark, keeping you pinned against him. “Please.”

“Please what?” he teased, one hand sliding up your body to tug at the neckline of your shirt, exposing the top of your breasts. “Gotta tell me exactly what you want.”

“I—I want you,” you gasped, blushing so hard it hurt. “Want your cock, please, Jake, need you so bad—”

That broke something in him.

In one quick movement, he unzipped his jeans, shoved them just low enough, and freed himself — hot, flushed, already leaking at the tip. He grabbed himself, dragging the thick head along the soaked crotch of your shorts, teasing you, making you cry out in frustration.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Bet I could slide right in.”

“Please,” you begged again, desperate tears welling up in your eyes.

Jake finally — finally — gave in.

He yanked your shorts to the side, lined himself up, and pushed the blunt head of his cock just barely inside you, hissing through his teeth at the feel of your heat clenching around him.

“Only the tip,” he growled, voice shaking with restraint. “You wanna cum, you’re doing all the work.”

You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders, and started to rock your hips — sliding down just a little more with each desperate roll. Jake’s head fell back against the couch, groaning low and filthy, letting you fuck yourself down onto him inch by inch.

“God, look at you,” he panted, dark eyes locked on the way you moved on him. “So fucking needy. So desperate to be filled.”

You could barely take it, your body burning, every nerve ending stretched tight — and before you knew it, you were bouncing properly, gasping every time you dropped down and took more of him inside you.

Jake let you.

Jake watched you.

Until finally he grabbed your hips and slammed you all the way down, making you cry out as he bottomed out inside you.

“There you go,” he rasped, eyes blazing. “Take it all, babe.”

You clung to him, overwhelmed, as he started thrusting up into you — hard, relentless, fucking you so deep you saw stars.

Your first night as newlyweds wasn’t exactly how you pictured it.

You’d spent the whole day traveling — endless flights, missed connections, heavy bags — and by the time you got to the hotel, both of you were exhausted. Jake dropped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, arms spread wide, hair a little messy from the humidity.

“You look gorgeous, baby,” he said, flashing you a lazy smile. “But I’m so dead. Can we just… cuddle tonight?”

You swallowed the disappointment, forcing a little laugh. “Of course. It’s been a long day.”

Jake didn’t notice the way your smile faltered. He just tugged you down onto the bed with him, tucking you into his chest, already half-asleep.

You lay there for a while, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. It wasn’t that you were upset — you understood. Still, you’d been excited about tonight. About showing him the new lingerie you bought, the one you’d been too shy to wear until now.

Quietly, you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. If nothing else, you thought, maybe you could feel a little pretty for yourself.

The lingerie was delicate — soft white lace that hugged every curve, almost innocent if it weren’t so sheer. You caught your reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushing. This had been for Jake. You wanted him to see you like this.

You hesitated by the door, hand hovering over the knob.

Maybe you were being silly. Maybe he really was too tired—

The door creaked open.

Jake’s voice, thick and groggy, floated over. “Babe? You okay?”

You stepped out.

He blinked up at you — once, twice — and then his whole body jolted upright, all sleepiness gone in an instant.

“Holy shit.”

He stared, mouth parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You shifted under his gaze, suddenly shy.

“I, uh… I just wanted to try it on,” you mumbled, hugging your arms around yourself.

Jake was off the bed in a second.

“You wore that for me?” His voice was low, a little awed.

You nodded, cheeks burning.

He reached for you slowly, like he was afraid you might disappear. His hands found your hips, fingers pressing lightly into your skin. “You’re unreal,” he whispered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you — deep and needy, like he’d been starving and didn’t realize it until just now.

You gasped into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he backed you toward the bed. His hands roamed your body reverently, tracing the curves and lines of you like he was committing them to memory.

“You’re so perfect,” he muttered between kisses, voice shaking with how much he meant it.

You let out a little whimper when his mouth found the swell of your breast, nipping gently through the lace. His hands framed your waist, holding you still as he peppered kisses down your torso, pausing to suck at the sensitive skin just below your ribs.

“Jake,” you breathed, fisting your hands in his hair.

“You got me all worked up now,” he said with a breathless laugh, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His cheeks were pink, pupils blown wide.

He tugged the lingerie aside carefully, like unwrapping a gift, groaning when he finally saw you fully. “Fuck, baby. Look what you do to me.”

You tugged at his shirt until he peeled it off, baring the lean lines of his body. You barely had time to admire him before he had you on your back, crawling over you with a grin that was all boyish mischief and unfiltered hunger.

“I thought I was too tired,” he murmured against your throat. “Guess you changed my mind.”Jake’s hands trembled slightly as he dragged you onto his lap, sitting back against the pillows, his legs spread wide and welcoming.

“You’re…you’re gonna kill me, baby,” he mumbled, voice low and wrecked as you straddled him, the delicate lace of your lingerie brushing against his bare chest.

You smiled, heart hammering. “You said you were too tired, remember?”

Jake groaned, tipping his head back. “Not anymore.”

You kissed him — slow and teasing — grinding your hips just a little against the bulge straining in his boxers. Jake cursed under his breath, hands finding your thighs, squeezing them like he was grounding himself.

“Take these off,” you whispered, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

He helped you, lifting his hips so you could drag them down his legs. His cock slapped up against his stomach, thick and flushed and already leaking.

You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly.

Jake laughed breathlessly when he saw your face. “You’re staring, baby.”

“Can you blame me?”

You lined him up, heart racing, and sank down slowly — inch by inch — until you were seated fully on him. Jake’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “You’re so tight… so good for me.”

You rocked your hips experimentally, moaning softly at the stretch. Jake just lay there for a second, eyes wide, watching you move on top of him like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered hoarsely, tracing the lace still clinging to your body with one hand while the other guided your hips.

You set a slow rhythm, grinding down onto him, rolling your hips in lazy circles that had both of you gasping.

Jake’s head fell back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Baby, you feel unreal,” he panted. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You leaned down to kiss his jaw, nibbling lightly, smiling when he whimpered underneath you.

“Jake,” you whispered into his skin, “you’re so good. Always so good to me.”

That seemed to break something in him.

Suddenly his hands tightened around your waist, helping you bounce faster, fucking himself up into you with desperate little thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and Jake’s soft, breathy curses.

“You’re perfect,” he rasped, thrusting up harder. “Taking me so well. My gorgeous wife.”

You cried out, clinging to his shoulders as the pleasure built higher and higher, your thighs trembling from the effort.

Jake saw it — of course he did — and immediately shifted, flipping you both over in one smooth, strong motion so you were beneath him, legs spread wide, caged in by his body.

“Let me help, pretty girl,” he said, voice thick with need.

He thrust back in deep, setting a relentless pace, kissing you hungrily between thrusts, groaning when you clenched around him.

It didn’t take long after that.

You came first, back arching off the bed, your nails dragging down Jake’s back as you sobbed his name. Jake followed moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a broken moan, spilling warmth into you, forehead resting against yours.

You lay there tangled together, sweaty and spent, breathing hard.

Jake chuckled quietly after a minute, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Guess I wasn’t that tired after all.”

You laughed weakly, still floating from the aftershocks. “No… definitely not.”

He pulled you closer, his hand gently running up and down your spine.

You had been dating Jake for a few months before you ever let him see you fully. It was a mix of nerves and stubbornness — you weren’t insecure exactly, but you didn’t think your body would knock anyone speechless either. Which was why when the night finally came, when you finally tugged your shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor, you refused to look him in the eye.

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Jake’s voice, soft and awed, cut through the air.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. Like it was the easiest truth in the world.

When you finally glanced up at him, cheeks burning, Jake was staring right at your chest — wide-eyed, a little stunned, like he was seeing the sun for the first time. It should have been embarrassing. Instead, it made something flutter deep in your stomach.

From that night on, Jake made it a mission to touch you as much as possible.

At first it was subtle — his hand would sneak under your hoodie when you were curled up watching movies together, palm warm and lazy over your breast, thumb stroking absentminded circles. Then it got bolder. He’d backhug you in the kitchen when you were trying to cook, hands sliding up your body to cup and squeeze, murmuring how good you felt against him. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him latched onto you, half-asleep, nuzzling into your chest like it was his own personal pillow.

And he always wanted more.

Tonight was no different.

You barely made it through brushing your teeth before Jake was pulling you onto the bed, tugging you into his lap like he couldn’t stand to be apart for another second. His mouth found your neck first, lazy kisses trailing over your skin, before his hands snuck under your oversized T-shirt, kneading slow and firm.

“You’re obsessed,” you teased, breath hitching when his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Jake only grinned against your collarbone.

“Yeah?” he murmured, teeth lightly scraping. “And whose fault is that, baby?”

You giggled, squirming a little in his lap, but Jake wasn’t letting you go. He tugged your shirt up and over your head in one smooth move, tossing it somewhere behind him. His hands were back instantly, cupping your breasts like they were made for him, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they stiffened under his touch.

Jake leaned back slightly, letting his gaze wander over you — greedy and worshipful all at once.

“Never getting tired of these,” he said, a little hoarsely. Then, almost to himself, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your face heat up, but it only got worse when Jake leaned in and latched onto one nipple, sucking slow and deep.

“Jake—” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair.

He hummed against your skin, sending vibrations straight through your chest. His hand kneaded the other breast while his mouth worshiped you — tongue flicking, lips sealing, sucking like he needed it to breathe. Every slow pull had heat coiling low in your belly, your thighs pressing together for friction.

You were panting by the time he finally pulled away, lips shiny, eyes dark.

“You’re already worked up,” he said, cocky but sweet, nipping lightly at the underside of your breast.

“I can’t help it,” you whined, tilting your hips against his thigh instinctively.

Jake grinned.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you come until you give me two.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he flipped you onto your back and settled between your thighs. His fingers found your underwear and slid them down your legs slowly, teasingly. Then, without warning, two fingers slid between your folds, rubbing slow, wet circles over your clit.

You jolted, a cry ripping from your throat.

“Fuck, you’re soaked already,” Jake said, almost admiringly. “All from me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, hips chasing his touch. It was humiliating how fast you were falling apart, how easily he could unravel you with just his fingers.

He slid two fingers inside you, curling expertly, hitting that spot that made your legs tremble.

“Jake—” you gasped, nails digging into the sheets.

“Shh,” he murmured, kissing your inner thigh. “Gotta be patient, baby. I’m gonna make you cum twice before I even think about fucking you.”

He kept a steady pace, fingers thrusting deep and firm, thumb circling your clit in time. You were shaking within minutes, thighs trying to close around his wrist, pleasure building sharper and sharper until—

“Jake, I—!” you sobbed, clenching down around his fingers as your first orgasm hit, ripping through you in waves.

Jake didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to keep you from overstimulating completely, but kept his fingers moving — teasing, coaxing — drawing soft whines and cries from your lips.

“You can give me another one,” he whispered, voice dark and low. “I know you can.”

He rubbed your clit a little harder, thrusting deeper, and you couldn’t hold back — the second orgasm hit even harder, your back arching off the bed, mouth falling open in a broken scream.

Jake finally pulled his hand away, glistening with your release, and kissed your stomach soothingly.

“Good girl,” he praised, tugging down his sweats with his free hand. His cock was hard and leaking against his stomach, and he groaned when he finally freed it. “Fuck, baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was lining himself up, sliding the tip through your dripping folds.

“Ready for me?” he asked, voice rough.

You whimpered a yes, and he pushed in slowly, finally giving you everything you’d been aching for — thick and deep and perfect.

And the whole time, even while fucking you senseless, Jake kept cupping your chest, mouthing at your nipples, like he couldn’t possibly get enough.

Jake moved inside you with slow, grinding thrusts, never once taking his hands or mouth off your chest. He squeezed and kneaded your breasts greedily, like he couldn’t get enough, lowering his head to suck a nipple into his mouth again, moaning low at the feeling.

“You’re so soft,” he muttered against your skin, dragging his tongue in slow circles around your nipple before sucking harder. “Could live with these in my mouth every night.”

You whimpered, arching into him, feeling your body tighten from the constant stimulation. Every deep thrust of his hips pressed you further into the mattress, and every greedy tug of his mouth sent fresh waves of heat pooling between your legs.

When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his hand replaced his mouth — thumb flicking over the swollen peak — while he kissed a messy trail across your chest to the other side. His fingers massaged the soft flesh firmly, squeezing, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

“Jake, please,” you cried out, voice breaking.

He just smiled, latching onto your other nipple with a low groan like he was starving. His hips started moving faster, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing in the room, your breasts bouncing slightly with every rough thrust. Jake made sure to grab them again, holding them steady, thumbs brushing over your nipples every time he drove deeper into you.

“You look so good like this,” he panted against your chest. “So fucking pretty… bouncing on my cock, tits out for me.”

You keened, barely able to form words anymore, nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

Jake’s mouth returned to your breast, sucking hard, and at the same time, he snuck a hand between your bodies to rub fast, messy circles over your clit.

“You’re close again, huh?” he said, voice muffled against your skin. “Gonna cum all over me while I suck your pretty tits?”

You could only nod, babbling nonsense as your whole body trembled, pleasure crashing through you like a wave. Your walls clenched down around him, and Jake groaned loudly, snapping his hips harder through your orgasm.

He didn’t stop — not until you were writhing under him, oversensitive and gasping for air. He kept rubbing your clit, kept thrusting, kept mouthing at your chest like he was completely addicted to the feel of you.

You sobbed his name, nails raking down his back, and that was all it took for Jake to spill inside you with a guttural curse, hips jerking a few more times before he slumped over you, breathless.

Even then, he didn’t let go of your chest — his hand lazily cupping you while he caught his breath, his mouth brushing kisses over your sensitive skin.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, kissing the curve of your breast. “So, so perfect. Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

He stayed buried deep inside you, holding you close, his hand resting protectively over your chest like it belonged there. And somehow, it felt like it did.

You were frustrated.

Frustrated and aching, lying back against your pillows, a toy buzzing between your legs but doing absolutely nothing to scratch the itch clawing under your skin.

You missed him too much.

It was different now — now that Jake was gone, thousands of miles away back in Australia, you couldn’t just crawl into his arms. Couldn’t just bury your face in his neck and let him take care of you the way only he knew how.

The ache wouldn’t go away.

Biting your lip, desperate, you tossed the toy aside and grabbed your phone instead. Fingers trembling a little, you hit Jake’s contact before you could overthink it.

The phone barely rang once before he answered.

“Hey, baby,” Jake said, voice all soft and smiling like he’d been waiting for your call. “You okay?”

You shivered at the sound, thighs rubbing together unconsciously.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I just… missed you. Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he said immediately, his voice soothing and warm. “Tell me about your day.”

You picked up the toy again, this time pressing it inside — slow, needy — as Jake’s voice washed over you. It wasn’t enough. You needed more — needed him — but you were too embarrassed to say it.

“Keep talking,” you whispered, hips starting to rock, trying to match the rhythm of his voice.

Jake chuckled a little, amused. “Okay… uh, I woke up early today. Took Layla for a walk by the beach. Thought about you the whole time. Wish you were there.”

You whimpered quietly, moving faster now, cheeks burning with need.

Jake’s voice softened, like he heard it. “You sure you’re okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you lied, squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lip to keep from making too much noise. “Just… don’t stop. Please.”

There was a pause.

A slow, knowing pause.

“…Baby,” Jake said, voice suddenly low and rough. “Are you… are you touching yourself right now?”

You froze, mortified.

But before you could deny it, he exhaled sharply — not mad, not teasing — just wrecked.

“God,” Jake muttered. “You’re bouncing on that toy, aren’t you?”

Your thighs clenched tighter around the toy, hips grinding down helplessly.

“Answer me, pretty girl,” he whispered. “I wanna hear you.”

You let out a tiny whimper, shame curling in your stomach. “Y-Yeah,” you admitted. “I’m trying but it’s not enough. I miss you too much.”

Jake groaned low, the sound crackling through the speaker. You heard a shuffle — him moving fast — and then a drawer opening on his side of the call.

“Hold on, baby,” he said, a little breathless. “Gimme a second.”

You barely had time to register it before you heard it — the soft, slick sound of Jake grabbing his fleshlight, the toy he had teased you about before but never actually used when you were on the call.

Until now.

“You made me like this,” he said roughly, and you could hear the way his hand shook a little setting it up. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.”

You whimpered again, fingers tightening around your own toy, hips rocking harder as you imagined him — messy hair, flushed cheeks, panting into the phone while he thrust into it.

“Touch your clit for me,” he said, voice low and thick. “Rub it nice and slow, just like I would. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see, fumbling to obey. The second your fingers brushed over your swollen clit, a jolt of pleasure shot through you, your back arching.

“That’s it, angel,” Jake murmured, and you could hear the faint wet slap of him thrusting into the toy now, getting louder by the second. “Wish I could see you. Wish I could grab you by the hips and make you ride me instead.”

You whimpered loudly, the image too much to handle.

“You sound so pretty,” Jake continued, voice rough. “Bet you look even prettier falling apart without me.”

You moved faster, whimpering into the phone, the sound of Jake’s breathing getting heavier too, matching yours. His soft grunts and whispered curses filled the line.

“Faster, baby,” he urged. “You can do it. Wanna hear you lose it for me.”

It didn’t take long after that.

You came with a sharp cry, gasping his name, legs trembling, the toy falling out of you as you collapsed against the bed. A second later, you heard Jake groan — low and broken — and then the wet squelch of him finishing, the toy dropping onto the bed beside him.

For a few seconds, all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the connection between you.

Then Jake spoke again, voice soft and wrecked.

“I wanna book a flight,” he said. “I need you.”

You laughed, breathless, heart thudding. “Hurry.”

“I will,” he promised. “Just stay on the line a little longer, okay? Wanna fall asleep with you.”

You smiled through the haze of pleasure, curling under your blankets, the phone pressed to your ear.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You’d known Sunghoon for months now — your best friend’s friend, the one who always hovered a little on the sidelines, smiling quietly, laughing along but never really stealing the spotlight. He wasn’t loud like Jay or chaotic like Jake. No, Sunghoon was observant. Thoughtful. Always remembering little things you said and doing things about them, like grabbing your favorite drink without you asking, or passing you a jacket when you shivered, even if you hadn’t said a word.

You thought you had him figured out. Sweet. A little shy. Definitely not the type to make your stomach flip and your thighs squeeze together just from looking at him.

Until you found out he boxed.

You had just swung by Jay’s place one afternoon, tossing your bag onto the couch, expecting to hang out like always — and there he was. Sunghoon, hair messy, sweat sticking to the back of his neck, wearing a black sleeveless tank that clung to every curve of his toned arms and chest. His gloves were slung over his shoulder, his hand running through his hair like he wasn’t even thinking about it. There was a tiny cut healing over his knuckle, and he looked so unfairly good you forgot how to breathe.

“You box?” you blurted, stunned.

Sunghoon glanced over, barely even reacting. Just smiled, slow and a little smug. “Yeah.”

Yeah, he said. Like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life.

You spent the rest of the night sneaking glances at him. His forearms flexing when he opened a bottle. His veins standing out when he leaned back against the chair. His laugh — low and easy — rumbling through the room.

By the time you got home, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. About how strong he must be, how easily he could manhandle someone if he wanted to—

You pressed your thighs together under your covers, feeling embarrassed and hot and way too needy for someone who had barely even touched you.

But things changed after that night.

Sunghoon started talking to you more — casually at first, but it grew. Little comments that made your heart flutter. Light touches: his fingers brushing yours when he handed you a drink, his hand steadying you with a firm grip when you tripped over a step.

“You sure you’re not clumsy on purpose?” he’d murmur when he caught you stumbling again, eyes glittering with something playful. Something dangerous.

You’d punch his arm, pretend to be annoyed. But the way his muscles flexed under your hand, the warmth of his skin — it stayed with you way too long afterward.

You grew comfortable around him. Flirty. Familiar. And Sunghoon gave it right back, in that quiet, almost cocky way he had — never raising his voice, never making a scene. Just steady, subtle, pulling you in without even trying.

He noticed everything. Remembered everything.

And you fell harder every day.

You didn’t even remember calling him.

One minute you were at the bar, whining to Jay about how cold and tired you were — the next, Sunghoon was there, sliding into the booth beside you, tucking your hair behind your ear, murmuring something you didn’t catch.

You barely stayed awake long enough to stumble into his car.

Barely stayed conscious as he lifted you effortlessly up the stairs to your apartment, slinging your arm around his shoulders and unlocking the door with the spare key you kept hidden.

By the time he got you to the couch, you were already half-asleep, slurring words that made no sense.

Sunghoon just laughed quietly, pushing your hair off your sweaty forehead, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand.

“You’re a mess,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.”

You should have.

You meant to.

But the second he sat down — sprawling out on the couch, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world — you felt it.

The pull toward him. The need.

You crawled without thinking, shameless in your drunken haze, straddling his lap and nuzzling against his chest.

“Sunghoon,” you whined, voice thick and needy.

He glanced up from his phone, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re drunk,” he said simply.

You nodded, burying your face against his neck. His skin smelled clean, like soap and leather. Warm and safe.

“You’re so mean,” you slurred. “S’posed to take care of me…”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, not even moving his phone. “I am taking care of you. Making sure you don’t choke on your own spit.”

You pouted, grinding down against him instinctively — just a slow, desperate rub of your panties against the hard muscle of his thigh.

Sunghoon’s whole body tensed.

You didn’t even realize what you were doing at first. Not until you rocked your hips again, chasing the friction, the heat pooling low in your stomach.

Not until he locked his free hand around your waist — a steady, firm grip that pinned you right where he wanted you.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low, warning.

You whined, grinding harder, clinging to his t-shirt. “Feels good, Hoon,” you whispered. “Need more…”

Sunghoon finally set his phone aside with a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes — dark, sharp — locked onto yours.

“You gonna beg for it?” he murmured, voice barely more than a growl.

You nodded frantically, desperate, already dripping through your panties just from the slow drag of his thigh between your legs.

“Please, Hoon,” you gasped, hips stuttering against him. “Touch me—please—need you so bad—”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were something he was deciding whether or not to devour.

Then he leaned back, smirking lazily.

“Keep going,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted it, right? Show me how bad.”

You whimpered, grinding down harder, rutting against the firm muscle of his thigh, your panties soaked through and sticking to your swollen, throbbing pussy.

Every slow drag of your clit against him made your vision blur, your fingers scrabbling at his shirt, nails digging into the hard planes of his chest.

“That’s it,” Sunghoon murmured, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Good little thing.”

You whined helplessly at the praise, hips moving faster, grinding yourself shamelessly against him.

Sunghoon didn’t move. Didn’t help.

Just sat there, watching you, arms stretched out across the back of the couch, letting you use him.

Your orgasm built sharp and fast — too much, too desperate — your clit throbbing with every drag of friction.

“Hoon—fuck, please—” you gasped, tears stinging your eyes.

Sunghoon finally moved, one big hand sliding up the back of your neck, yanking your head back so you had to look at him.

“You wanna come, baby?” he murmured, thumb stroking your throat lightly. “Gonna make a mess all over me?”

You nodded frantically, hips jerking out of rhythm, so close you could barely breathe.

Sunghoon smiled — dark, wicked — and pressed his thigh up harder between your legs, grinding against you.

“Then come,” he said simply. “Messy and pretty, just like I like you.”

It only took two more sloppy, desperate grinds.

You shattered apart, crying out his name, soaking through your panties, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the world.

Sunghoon let you ride it out, humming low in his throat, stroking his hand lazily up and down your spine.

When you finally slumped against him, boneless and dazed, he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice thick with promise, “I’m not gonna let you do all the work.”

You stayed draped over him, trembling slightly, breath hot against his neck.

But even after the orgasm, the need didn’t go away.

If anything, it got worse — an aching emptiness pooling deep between your hips, desperate to be filled. Desperate for him.

You pressed your face against his throat, whining softly.

“Hoon… please.”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, low and rough. “You already came, baby.”

You shook your head, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Not enough,” you whispered, almost crying from how badly you wanted him. “Need you inside.”

Sunghoon leaned back, studying you, his thumb brushing slowly across your cheek.

“You’re drunk,” he said gently. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you insisted, hips grinding lazily against his thigh again. “Been thinking about it. About you. For so long, Hoon—please—”

You sniffled a little, humiliated but too far gone to care. “Want you so bad it hurts.”

Sunghoon sighed like you were exhausting him — but his hands were already moving, sliding down to grip your thighs.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered.

You smiled through the tears, a shaky, desperate little thing.

“Let me make you feel good,” you begged. “You’re always taking care of everyone else. Let me take care of you.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, chest rising and falling a little faster than normal.

Then he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Just the tip,” he said roughly. “You hear me?”

You nodded frantically, not even caring if you were lying.

Anything — anything to have him inside you.

He maneuvered you easily, dragging your soaked panties to the side, undoing his sweatpants just enough to free his cock — thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

You whimpered at the sight of it, clenching down around nothing.

Sunghoon lined himself up, holding the base steady.

“Go slow,” he warned. “You’re still drunk, baby.”

You nodded again, tears brimming in your eyes from how badly you needed him.

You sank down — gasping at the stretch, the way he opened you up, thick and hot and overwhelming even just at the head.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

You braced your hands on his chest and pushed down, taking more of him, whining at the sweet, burning stretch as he filled you deeper.

Sunghoon cursed under his breath, hands clenching on your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

You bounced experimentally, lifting and sinking again, greedy for more, ignoring the way he tried to slow you down with bruising fingers.

“Shit,” Sunghoon hissed through his teeth, his head falling back against the couch.

“You little liar,” he groaned. “Said just the tip.”

You giggled breathlessly, grinding down on him, feeling him twitch deep inside you.

“Couldn’t help it,” you whispered. “Feel too good, Hoon. You’re so big—”

Sunghoon growled low in his chest, his self-control snapping.

His hands slid down to your ass, grabbing hard, guiding you up and down his cock at the pace he wanted — deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars.

“Greedy little thing,” he muttered. “Couldn’t even wait, could you? Needed my cock that bad?”

You nodded frantically, babbling nonsense as he fucked up into you, filling you again and again until you couldn’t breathe.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough and dark. “Say who you belong to.”

“You, Hoon,” you sobbed. “Only you.”

Sunghoon kissed you then — deep and messy, all tongue and teeth — as he slammed into you, chasing both your orgasms with ruthless precision.

You came first, clenching down around him so hard he groaned into your mouth, hips stuttering.

Then he followed with a broken moan, spilling deep inside you, filling you so much it leaked out around him.

You collapsed against him, trembling, dazed, your face buried against his sweaty neck.

Sunghoon just held you tighter, kissing your temple softly like you hadn’t just wrecked each other on the couch.

After a long moment, he chuckled against your hair.

“Next time,” he said, voice low and affectionate, “we’re doing it properly.”

You woke up slowly, your head heavy, mouth dry, body aching in ways that felt too good to be wrong.

For a second, everything was hazy — sunlight pouring through the curtains, the soft weight of a blanket tangled around your legs.

And then you felt it.

Warm skin pressed against yours.

A strong arm draped heavy around your waist.

The steady rise and fall of someone breathing right beside you.

Your eyes flew open — and you nearly stopped breathing.

Sunghoon.

Asleep. Naked. In your bed.

Memories hit you like a truck — the drinking, the neediness, the desperate way you had thrown yourself at him. Grinding on his thigh, begging him for more, sinking down onto him and bouncing like you couldn’t get enough.

Your face burned with shame.

You shifted slightly, trying to slip out from under his arm without waking him. But he stirred immediately, tightening his hold and nuzzling against the back of your neck.

“Mm… where you goin’?” he mumbled, voice low and gravelly with sleep.

You froze, heart hammering.

“I—” you stammered. “I didn’t mean to—last night—Sunghoon, I’m so sorry, I—”

He cut you off by pulling you closer, his nose brushing against your hair.

“You think I didn’t want it?” he said, voice still soft and rough.

You blinked rapidly, feeling completely disarmed.

Sunghoon chuckled, the sound rumbling against your back.

“You were needy,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You asked for me… and I wanted you just as bad.”

You bit your lip, cheeks still flaming.

“But… you said just the tip.”

Sunghoon laughed again — low and amused — his hand sliding up under your shirt to stroke your bare waist.

“Yeah,” he whispered against your ear. “You didn’t listen.”

You buried your face in the pillow, groaning in mortification.

But Sunghoon just smiled against your skin, kissing the nape of your neck.

“Next time,” he murmured, “I’m not gonna be so easy on you.”

Later that afternoon, you were sitting stiffly at the kitchen counter, nursing a water bottle and trying not to die of embarrassment. Sunghoon lounged across from you, casually scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t spent half the night fucking you senseless.

Every time you glanced at him — the way his forearms flexed when he typed, the faint bruises you left blooming across his collarbone — heat pooled low in your stomach all over again.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said without looking up.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“About what?” he teased. “How you begged me to let you ride me?”

You groaned.

Sunghoon finally set his phone down, smirking lazily as he leaned across the counter, his voice dropping low enough to make your pulse skip.

“You gonna sit on my thigh again,” he murmured, “or should I just take you to my bed this time?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

He laughed — the prettiest sound, light and cocky — and tugged playfully at your wrist to uncover your face.

“Relax,” he said, softer now, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You don’t have to be shy.”

You tried to glare at him, but it was impossible when he was smiling at you like that — all easy affection and wicked promises wrapped in a boy you suddenly realized you wanted way more than just once.

“Next time,” Sunghoon said, still toying with your hand, “I’m not letting you get away with just riding my thigh.”

Your breath hitched, thighs pressing together under the table.

“And next time,” he added, his thumb tracing slow circles against your wrist, “you’re gonna be completely sober. I wanna hear every single filthy thing you say when you’re fully aware of what you’re doing.”

You nearly choked.

Sunghoon just grinned — pretty, devastating, unstoppable — and picked up his phone again like he hadn’t just ruined you with a few whispered words.

When you agreed to live with Jay, you didn’t realize his best friend would practically move in, too.

Sunghoon wasn’t technically your roommate, but he may as well have been. If Jay was home, Sunghoon was right there next to him — lounging on the couch, raiding your fridge, leaving his annoyingly attractive sneakers by the door like he belonged there.

At first, you hadn’t paid him much attention. He was pretty, sure — big brown eyes, perfect skin, lips made to ruin someone’s life — but you had standards. You weren’t about to crush on your roommate’s cocky best friend just because he smiled a little too charmingly.

Or so you thought.

It happened one lazy Sunday afternoon.

You had just finished folding laundry when you walked into the living room — and froze.

There was Sunghoon, perched on the couch, wearing a low-hanging gray tank top and thin wire glasses, one hand lazily scrolling on his phone.

The tank top clung to his chest and arms, leaving almost nothing to the imagination — smooth pale skin, toned biceps, that gorgeous collarbone just begging to be kissed. The glasses only made it worse, making him look unfairly soft and dangerous at the same time, like some beautiful, evil vampire who would ruin you just for fun.

He looked up and smiled, completely unaware of the crisis he had just caused. “Hey.”

You blinked. Swallowed. Forgot how to speak for a second. “Uh—hi.”

You retreated into your room immediately after, cheeks burning, heart racing. You were not going to survive this.

Later, in the shower, it only got worse.

The hot water pounded down, steam curling around your body as you tried to relax, but all you could see behind your closed eyes was him — the lazy curve of his smile, the faint line of veins in his arms, the way his glasses had slid slightly down his nose.

You shifted your weight, feeling the tension in your thighs, the heat between them building embarrassingly fast. Biting your lip, you reached for the showerhead, flipping it to the highest setting, letting the heavy pulse of water beat against you.

And then, before you could stop yourself—

“Sunghoon…”

The moan slipped out, breathy and desperate, like you had been holding it in all day.

And the worst part?

You weren’t alone.

You hadn’t expected anyone to hear you — much less him. You thought Jay had gone out, and Sunghoon… well, who knew where he disappeared to half the time. But when you stepped out of the shower, body still flushed from the heat and embarrassment, you heard footsteps moving around the apartment.

No way.

No, no, no.

Wrapping a towel tightly around your damp body, you cracked the bathroom door open to check. And there he was, right outside your room — leaning against the wall, scrolling casually on his phone like he hadn’t just heard you moan his name through the thin bathroom walls.

Your stomach dropped. Maybe you could slip into your room without him noticing.

“Enjoy your shower?” Sunghoon’s voice cut through your panic like it was nothing, teasing but smooth, like he already knew what you were thinking.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Wh—What are you doing here?” you managed, gripping the towel tighter around yourself.

He didn’t even look up from his phone at first, acting far too casual for someone who had just heard you coming undone in the shower.

“Jay left a while ago,” he said, finally glancing up. His eyes flickered over you — the damp hair sticking to your shoulders, the towel barely covering your body, the flushed skin that still felt hot from the water (and from him). “Thought I’d hang around a bit.”

Your heart hammered so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Didn’t know you were still here,” you muttered, inching toward your bedroom door.

“Clearly,” he said with a faint smirk, pushing himself off the wall. “Didn’t realize you got so loud when you were thinking about me.”

Your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t—”

He raised a brow, cutting you off with that same playful grin that always made you weak. “You sure about that? Because I heard my name pretty clearly.”

You swallowed hard, embarrassment mixing with something warmer, deeper, settling low in your stomach. You could lie. Laugh it off. Pretend it hadn’t happened.

But instead, you stood there — wrapped in nothing but a towel, dripping water onto the hardwood floor, staring up at him like you were already caught.

Sunghoon’s gaze darkened the longer you stayed silent.

“Open the door,” he said quietly, nodding toward your room.

Your heart skipped. “W-Why?”

His lips twitched, and his eyes flicked down to the thin towel still clinging to your damp body.

“Figure we can finish what you started.”

The air left your lungs completely. Your whole body buzzed at his words.

Without trusting yourself to speak, you turned, fumbling with the doorknob before pushing it open and backing inside. He followed without hesitation, shutting the door behind him with a soft click that felt far too final.

You stood at the foot of your bed, towel still wrapped around you, heart pounding so hard you felt lightheaded.

Sunghoon’s eyes roamed lazily over your body, lingering on the droplets of water still sliding down your skin.

“You gonna drop that,” he teased, “or do I have to take it off for you?”

Heat pooled between your legs at his words. Slowly — nervously — you loosened your grip on the towel and let it fall to the floor.

His gaze darkened instantly, tongue flicking across his bottom lip as he stepped closer.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

You shivered, suddenly so aware of how exposed you were — how big he seemed standing in front of you.

“C’mere,” he said softly, tugging you closer by your wrist until your bare chest pressed against his still-clothed body. His shirt felt cool against your heated skin, his scent overwhelming your senses. “Been thinking about this since the day I met you.”

Your breath hitched, and you tilted your head back to meet his gaze.

“Then do something about it,” you whispered.

The playful glint in his eyes shifted into something darker — hungrier.

And that was all the warning you got before his lips crashed into yours and he pushed you back onto the bed.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Sunghoon was lifting you back to your feet, mouth still devouring yours in desperate, heated kisses.

“Not here,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough. “Wanna feel you fall apart again… somewhere louder.”

You barely managed a gasp before he was steering you back into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. His hands roamed your naked body shamelessly, squeezing your waist, your ass, leaving hot fingerprints on your wet skin.

The shower was still misting the room with steam when he backed you into the tiles, hands caging you in.

“Turn it back on,” he murmured against your jaw, biting down just enough to make you shiver.

You scrambled to obey, reaching behind you with shaky fingers to twist the faucet. Water sprayed to life instantly, hot and heavy. You barely managed to get the temperature right before Sunghoon crowded in close again, one arm snaking around your waist to tug you flush against him.

Still fully clothed, he was ruining his own shirt and sweats without a second thought.

“You gonna moan my name again?” he teased lowly, mouth dragging along your neck. His glasses had fogged slightly from the heat, and it was unfair how fucking good he looked — wet hair plastered to his forehead, tank top sticking to his toned chest, skin gleaming under the spray.

You whimpered, clutching at his soaked shirt.

He grinned wickedly and pressed a thigh between your legs, nudging it upward until you gasped from the friction.

“Go on,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear. “Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you’re not pretending.”

Your hips bucked instinctively against his thigh, chasing the pressure. He chuckled, sliding one hand down your front, fingers skimming your stomach, lower, lower—

Then he paused, glancing at the showerhead still clutched in your hand.

“Use it on yourself again,” he said, voice almost too gentle to be real. “But this time, I’m watching.”

Your cheeks flamed hotter than the steaming water.

When you hesitated, he leaned in, brushing his lips over your temple. “C’mon, baby. Let me see.”

Shivering, you lifted the showerhead and angled it down between your legs, adjusting the water pressure until it hit just right.

The second it did, a broken gasp tore from your throat, your knees buckling slightly. The water was hotter than before, hitting your clit in quick, sharp pulses.

Sunghoon exhaled shakily, one hand gripping your hip, the other trailing up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking lazily over your nipple.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes dark and hungry. “You’re so sensitive, huh?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, grinding down against the stream. Your free hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline.

He watched you unravel like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, murmuring filthy praise against your skin — telling you how good you looked, how pretty you sounded moaning for him, how he wasn’t gonna let you come without him.

“Close?” he asked, thumb circling your nipple again.

You nodded, breathing ragged.

He caught your wrist just as your thighs started trembling, pulling the showerhead away.

You sobbed at the sudden loss, blinking up at him in betrayal.

Sunghoon just smirked, stripping off his soaked tank top in one smooth move, tossing it to the floor with a wet slap.

“You wanna come?” he said, voice deep and full of promise. “Come on my cock.”

Before you could process that, he was shoving his sweats down, freeing himself — thick, hard, the tip flushed dark pink. Your mouth watered at the sight.

He caught you under the thighs and lifted you easily, pressing your back to the slippery tiles, angling himself between your legs.

“You ready?” he murmured, voice still teasing but almost unbearably gentle.

You nodded, desperate.

He pushed in slow, savoring every inch, watching your face twist in pleasure. Stretching you open, filling you deeper than anything you’d ever felt before.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “So fucking tight.”

You sobbed his name, nails digging into his shoulders.

And then he started moving — slow at first, grinding deep into you with lazy, deliberate thrusts. You whined, legs tightening around his waist, your back pressing harder into the slick wall tiles.

“Sunghoon,” you gasped, nails clawing at his wet shoulders. “F-Fuck—”

He let out a breathless laugh, dragging his lips along your throat.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “That what you were moaning about earlier? In the shower, thinking about me?”

You felt your whole body flush, a choked noise catching in your throat. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes — soaked bangs plastered to his forehead, glasses long discarded, pale skin flushed from the heat.

“Answer me,” he said, thrusting up hard enough to knock a gasp from your lips. “Were you touching yourself thinking about me?”

“Y-Yeah,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon groaned, thrusting deeper, the angle sharp enough to make your toes curl.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, dragging his teeth lightly over your jaw. “You’re filthy.”

You whimpered when he started fucking you harder, faster, the wet slap of skin echoing over the pounding water. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you slightly with each heavy thrust.

“You sounded so pretty, moaning my name,” he panted, voice right against your ear. “Made me so hard I couldn’t fucking think straight.”

You cried out when he hit that devastating spot inside you again, body jerking against his.

“Right there, Hoon—please, please, don’t stop—” you babbled, clutching at his slippery shoulders, clinging like your life depended on it.

He grinned against your skin and fucked into you harder, faster, until you were barely able to breathe, the stimulation sharp and constant.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he whispered, thumb sneaking between your bodies to circle your clit. “You gonna fall apart on my cock?”

Your answer was a strangled sob, body seizing up as pleasure slammed into you all at once. You clenched around him so tight he cursed against your throat, fucking you through it, relentless.

But he didn’t stop.

Even when you cried out from the oversensitivity, he kept thrusting — slower, deeper now — hips grinding into you, thumb still teasing your swollen clit with devastating precision.

“Shh, you can take it,” he soothed, voice maddeningly sweet compared to the way he was wrecking you. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You shook your head weakly, whimpering.

“Hoon—too much—please—”

“One more, pretty girl,” he coaxed, kissing your tear-streaked cheeks. “Wanna feel you come again. Know you can.”

Your body gave in before your brain could catch up, orgasm crashing over you again so violently your whole body shook, nails scraping down his back.

Sunghoon groaned low and snapped his hips into you one final time, spilling deep inside you with a broken curse, filling you up so full it dripped out around him.

You slumped against him, sobbing quietly from the overwhelming pleasure, completely wrung out.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing kiss after kiss to your temple, your cheeks, your mouth. “So fucking good.”

He didn’t let you go, even when he softened inside you, even when your legs trembled violently against his hips. He stayed there, holding you gently under the spray, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, voice low and worried against your hair.

You nodded, too exhausted to speak, burying your face in his neck.

He chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head.

“You really shouldn’t tease me like that, you know,” he said. “Or I might just have to fuck you even harder next time.”

You groaned weakly against his skin, and he laughed again, rocking you gently in his arms like you hadn’t just gotten absolutely destroyed five minutes ago.

You weren’t a mean girl, not really. Just…a little playful. Maybe a little too playful when it came to the nerdy boy who sat in the back of your Chemistry class.

Yang Jungwon.

Blonde hair always perfectly parted, button-down shirts always ironed stiff, and those stupid little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—he was practically begging for it. He didn’t even talk back when you and your friends joked about him. He just sat there, quietly scribbling formulas with that pretty hand of his, pretending not to hear the way you laughed.

“You think he’s a robot or something?” your friend Hana giggled one afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she watched Jungwon flip through his notes. “Bet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”

You snickered behind your palm. “Held? I bet he’d pass out if a girl even looked at him for too long.”

It wasn’t personal. It was harmless, you told yourself. Jungwon was just…so easy to tease. Always so quiet, so polite, so desperately nerdy. He wore khaki pants for god’s sake. Khakis. In high school.

Sometimes you’d catch him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking—soft, wide-eyed stares, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It only made it funnier. You’d smile sweetly at him on purpose, wave too enthusiastically, lean a little too close when asking him a question during group projects, just to watch his face flush scarlet and his glasses fog up.

The poor boy was so easy to break.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Your whole group kind of adopted it as a game at this point: how fast could you fluster Jungwon? How pink could you get his cheeks? How many stuttered responses could you collect like trophies?

“He’s like…a pet,” your other friend Minji whispered one time after a pop quiz. You had just tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and thanked him (loudly) for “helping you study”—which he hadn’t—and the boy had practically short-circuited on the spot. “Like a little lost puppy.”

You’d laughed then, flipping your hair over your shoulder, feeling every bit the queen bee you were supposed to be. Jungwon was safe. Harmless. He wasn’t like the cocky jocks or the bad boys you flirted with sometimes—he was soft, easy to control, easy to tease.

Or at least…that’s what you thought.

Until one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting at your desk, lazily twirling a pen between your fingers, when you felt a shadow fall across your table. You looked up, blinking.

It was Jungwon.

He stood stiffly in front of you, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest like a shield. His blonde hair was slightly messy today, a few strands falling across his forehead. His glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he pushed them up nervously with one finger.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lost, Jungwon?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something—but then stopped, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. His hands fidgeted against the folder, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped it. You could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Cute.

“I, uh…” He coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses again. “I…thought you might need help. For the chemistry assignment. Since…you asked…before.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t actually asked him for help—you’d teased him about it, sure, but it was all in good fun. You were popular, and smart enough to get by without tutoring from the class nerd. But now, standing there in front of you, Jungwon looked so serious. So determined, despite how nervous he clearly was.

You could feel Minji and Hana watching from across the room, barely containing their laughter. You gave them a quick glance—watch this—before turning back to Jungwon with your most dazzling smile.

“That’s sweet, Jungwon,” you said, voice dripping honey. “You’re worried about me?”

He flushed deeper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just…you seemed like you might…um…need help.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. God, he was so easy.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your chin in your hand and looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you offering to be my private tutor?”

His lips parted slightly, like the words got stuck in his throat. His glasses fogged a little again. “I—uh—I guess. If you want.”You smiled wider, loving the way his voice shook.

“Aw,” you cooed mockingly, loud enough for your friends to hear. “You’re so sweet, Jungwon. Are you always this nice to girls who bully you?”

Behind you, Hana snickered into her hand.

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, folder clutched tight to his chest, face burning. His eyes flickered to your mouth for a second—so quick you almost missed it—and then dropped to the floor again.

You tilted your head, smirking. So predictable.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” you added, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you buy me coffee after tutoring too.”

He said nothing. Just nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and practically fled to the other side of the room.

You and your friends broke into giggles immediately.

“Poor thing’s gonna have a heart attack,” Minji whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. “Y/N, you’re evil.”

You smiled lazily, twirling your pen again. It was just harmless fun. Jungwon would never do anything about it. He was too shy, too sweet.

He’d stay quiet. Like he always did.

…Right?

You didn’t think about it much when you got the text later that day.

[unknown number]: you forgot your textbook. rm 3b.

[unknown number]: i can bring it if u want.

You stared at the messages, confused for a second—until you realized it had to be Jungwon. Of course it was. Who else would be that polite about a stupid forgotten book?

You texted back a half-hearted ok, already smirking to yourself. God, he’s desperate, you thought. He was really going out of his way for you now. It was almost pathetic.

You made your way to Room 3B after the last bell, the hallway practically deserted. Most people had already left for the day, leaving only the low hum of distant footsteps and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.

When you pushed open the door, the room was dim, the late afternoon sun spilling in long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood by your desk, your chemistry textbook in hand, head bowed slightly. His blonde hair caught the light, making it look almost soft around the edges. He wasn’t wearing his blazer anymore—just the white button-up, the sleeves pushed up a little—and it made him look…different. More casual. More real.

You stepped inside lazily, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Wow,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms. “You really take your job as my tutor seriously, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile.

He just looked up at you—and for the first time, you noticed something different in his eyes. Something that made your skin prickle a little.

He wasn’t nervous.

Not anymore.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, voice low and even.

You walked closer, letting your bag slide off your shoulder onto a chair. “Thanks, Professor Jungwon,” you joked, reaching for the book.

But instead of handing it to you, he held onto it—just out of reach.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

For a second, he just looked at you, head tilted slightly like he was studying something.

Then he smiled.

Not the shy, awkward smile you were used to.

No, this one was slower. Lazier. A smile that knew things. Dangerous things.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, voice still light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Messing with me. Laughing at me with your little friends.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, confused. This wasn’t…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I mean…” you said slowly, trying to summon that same teasing tone. “Maybe a little?”

Jungwon stepped closer.

You instinctively backed up—only to feel the desk press against the backs of your thighs.

You opened your mouth to say something else—to crack another joke, maybe, to turn the moment back into something safe—but before you could, he set the textbook down carefully on the desk beside you.

And caged you in with both hands, palms flat against the wood.

You stared up at him, breath caught.

His eyes, usually so soft, were burning now. Sharp and focused, like he was seeing right through you. His body was so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, suffocating, dizzying.

“You think you can just say whatever you want to me,” he said softly, so close you could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Laugh at me. Flirt with me. Make me look like a fool.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“I—It was just a joke,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered.

Another slow, dangerous smile.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well, here’s the thing, Y/N.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear.

“I’m done being the joke.”

You froze, your whole body tensing, but Jungwon didn’t give you any time to think.

One hand slid from the desk to your waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. He pressed his body closer, chest against yours, so you could feel just how much bigger and stronger he really was.

“You’re so loud usually,” he whispered, voice smooth and dark against your ear. “Where’s all that attitude now, huh?”

You squirmed, but it only made him grip you tighter, pinning your hips against the desk.

“You thought you were in control,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose down the side of your throat, inhaling like he could smell your fear. “Laughing with your friends. Acting like you were better than me.”

You whimpered—quiet and unintentional—and he chuckled low in his chest.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

Slowly, torturously slow, he trailed his hand up your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt, fingertips feather-light against your bare skin. Your breath hitched, and he smiled against your neck.

“You like this,” he said quietly, almost like he was marveling at the realization. “You like when I’m mean to you.”

You shook your head automatically, but Jungwon just laughed again, dark and soft.

“Liar.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes were molten now, dark and hungry, and you shivered under the weight of his stare.

“I should make you beg,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Make you apologize for being such a little brat.”

Your lips parted, desperate to say something—anything—but no words came out.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he asked, almost gently, dragging his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. “Or do I have to teach you a lesson?

You whimpered again, nodding weakly.

His smile widened, all sharp teeth and dangerous promise.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with his knees. The sudden movement made you squeak, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t let you go—he loomed over you, hands gripping your waist possessively, like he owned you.

“Show me,” Jungwon said, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked up at him, heart racing, and whispered back without thinking, “W-What?”

He just stared down at you, unblinking, fingers tightening at your waist like a warning.

“On your knees,” he repeated, firmer now, and when you hesitated for half a second longer, he grabbed your chin and guided you down slowly, almost gentle, until your knees hit the floor with a quiet thud against the carpet.

“Jungwon…” you whispered again, voice small, but he didn’t budge.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re quiet.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, and breathed out shakily, “I-I don’t know what you want me to do…”

A small, dangerous smile played on his lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuckled his belt, the soft clink making your stomach twist in anticipation. You couldn’t look away—couldn’t even think—your mouth already watering slightly as he tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing his cock, hard and thick and leaking at the tip.

You whimpered, staring, and your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You nodded frantically, voice barely a breath. “Y-Yeah… I want it.”

“Then open up,” he ordered, and his voice was so calm it made your whole body shudder.

You parted your lips obediently, heart thundering, and he slid the tip against your tongue, teasing you slowly, making you feel every inch.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low growl. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You whimpered again, looking up at him through your lashes, desperate to make him proud, desperate for him to keep saying those things to you.

“You’re so good, Jungwon,” you whispered around him, voice muffled and needy.

A dark flush colored his cheeks at your praise, but he didn’t let up, sliding deeper with slow, shallow thrusts, one hand threading into your hair to hold you there.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hips rocking slowly. “Such a good little mouth… made for me.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you forced yourself to stay still, to let him use you like he wanted. You wanted it. You wanted him.

“You look so good like this,” he breathed. “Bet you never thought you’d end up on your knees for me, huh?”

You whined around him, the humiliation and heat rushing through your body too much to handle.

“Didn’t know you’d be so mean,” you managed to mumble out when he pulled back a little, your voice wrecked and breathless.

He chuckled lowly, thumb brushing away a tear that slid down your cheek.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, baby,” he whispered.

You nodded, so desperate, so wrecked already. “Please…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungwon… I want you…”

His jaw flexed, his control visibly snapping.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips jerking forward as he pushed deeper into your mouth, making you choke slightly.

You pulled back with a gasp, panting, and he immediately stroked your hair gently, calming you.

“Shh. You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect.”

You looked up at him, tears in your lashes, spit glistening on your lips.

“I want to be good for you,” you said, voice wobbling.

“You already are,” he whispered, dragging his cock slowly across your tongue again.

You shivered, feeling your whole body light up at his words.

He tightened his grip in your hair, sliding himself back into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, using you like he had every right to.

And you let him. Whimpering, obeying, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Because he owned you now. And you didn’t want it any other way.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon yanked you up from the floor, strong hands gripping your waist and shoving you back against the couch. His body pressed flush against yours, caging you in.

“You’re not done,” he muttered, voice low and dark in your ear. “I’m not done.”

You whimpered, nodding without even thinking, your thighs squeezing together at the way he looked at you — like he was starving and you were the only thing he could eat.

He grabbed your chin roughly, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes, usually so soft and sunny, were blown wide and black with hunger.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Already fucked out and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You tried to say something—tried to beg—but he didn’t give you the chance. In one swift movement, he manhandled you onto the couch, forcing you onto your back, and tugged your panties down your legs without ceremony.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty,” he murmured, voice steady but ragged with want.

You did, shakily, heart pounding so hard you could barely breathe.

He tugged his jeans down just enough, cock hard and leaking, and lined himself up without warning. You felt the blunt, thick head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath caught.

“You ready?” he rasped.

You nodded desperately, nails digging into the cushions.

“Use your words,” he ordered, tapping the inside of your thigh sharply.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please, Jungwon, I want it—need it—”

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you screamed — high-pitched and choked, the stretch overwhelming. Your whole body arched off the couch at the sudden, merciless intrusion.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself still for a second, letting you feel every inch of him. “Feels too good. Gonna fuck you so stupid, baby.”

You sobbed, legs trembling around his hips, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you. Again. Again. Hard and deep and punishing, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You wanted to tease me?” he grunted, voice still soft and deadly in your ear. “Wanted to be a brat in front of your little friends?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, barely coherent under the relentless pace.

“Bet you don’t feel so cocky now, huh?” he whispered, punctuating every word with another deep thrust.

You tried to answer but all that came out was a broken moan.

He chuckled low under his breath, slowing down just enough to drag himself out painfully slow before slamming back in to the hilt, making you cry out.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he licked a tear off your cheek and murmured, “Poor thing. Too much?”

You shook your head wildly, clinging to him.

He kept going until your whole body was trembling, until your nails carved angry red lines down his back, until you were sobbing his name like it was the only word you knew.

Finally, when your legs gave out completely and you sagged into the cushions, he slowed. His hands gentled, cradling you.

Wordlessly, he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His cock still heavy and hard between your legs, pressed against your soaked folds.

He cupped your face in both hands, smoothing your hair back, and kissed you so softly it almost hurt. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him.

“You still want it?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please.”

He guided you down onto him slowly this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretch you open again.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, tears brimming in your lashes again from the slow, aching fullness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take all of it. You’re doing so good.”

He rocked you on his cock gently, holding you close, whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time.

“Feel how deep I am, baby? You were made for this… made for me to fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, biting his shoulder to muffle your sobs of pleasure as he guided your hips, slow and deep and overwhelming.

“Never teasing me again,” he whispered, smiling against your hair. “Not unless you want this.”

You nodded desperately, grinding down against him, so full you could barely think.

“You’re mine to fuck,” he murmured, dragging his cock against that sensitive spot inside you, making you jolt in his lap. “Mine to ruin.”

You came apart in his arms, sobbing his name into his shoulder, shaking and gasping. He held you through it, never stopping, whispering praise into your ear until you completely fell apart.

And when he finally followed, spilling deep inside you with a low groan, he didn’t move away.

He just held you, rocking you gently in his lap, brushing kisses across your temple, your jaw, your mouth.

Like he hadn’t just broken you completely.

Like he was never gonna let you go.

The next morning, you could still feel it — a dull, delicious ache between your thighs with every step you took. Your body was sore, your neck littered with faint bruises you tried—and failed—to cover with makeup, and your heart raced every time you even thought about Jungwon.

Which was a problem. Because you were sitting across from him in class, and he kept sneaking little glances at you from behind his glasses, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips whenever your eyes met.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clenching your thighs together under the desk, cheeks burning.

“What’s up with you?” one of your friends whispered, elbowing you in the side during lecture.

“Huh? N-nothing,” you stammered, staring down at your notes so hard the lines blurred together.

Another girl leaned over. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“I don’t,” you protested weakly, adjusting your jacket to hide the faint purple marks blooming down your throat.

They weren’t convinced.

“You’re acting weird,” the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. “Like…all shy and jumpy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you said too quickly, glancing instinctively at Jungwon.

You caught him looking again — but this time, he didn’t look away. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flipped.

Oh god.

Your friends caught that look.

They turned, following your gaze, and their jaws dropped.

“Wait. No freaking way,” one of them whispered, half-laughing. “You’re into him?!”

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The other girl snorted. “Since when do you like nerds?”

You shrank into your seat, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Especially when Jungwon leaned back in his chair casually, spreading his thighs just a little wider under the desk — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“Bet he’s not that nerdy when he’s alone with her,” one of your friends joked under her breath, laughing.

Your face flamed.

And across the room, Jungwon smiled lazily at you, like a wolf who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you even speak?” you snorted one day while everyone was lounging around in Leehan’s basement, half-buzzed on soda and sleep deprivation. Ni-ki just glanced at you, face unreadable, while the others burst out laughing.

“That’s not fair,” Riwoo piped up between bites of seaweed chips. “He talks. Just not to you.”

“Ouch.” You clutched your chest mock-dramatically. “I’m offended. Actually, I think I’m his favorite. He’s just playing hard to get.”

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Just kept sipping his drink with that same maddening calm.

But you liked getting a rise out of him. Over the next few weeks, the teasing escalated.

“Blink twice if you’re real.”

“You’re like an NPC, you know that?”

“I bet your phone autocorrects everything to ‘k.’”

He never snapped. Not once. Not even when you flicked a popcorn kernel at him across the couch and it landed in his hoodie.

But something changed the night of Jaehyun’s birthday party. The group had rented a karaoke room, and somewhere between terrible rap verses and awful renditions of ballads, you and Ni-ki ended up sitting alone in the hallway. The others had gone back in to sing “Love Dive” at full volume.

You nudged his arm with your shoulder. “You know, if you ever decide to speak to me, I might faint.”

Silence.

“Like, actually. Flat on the floor. Need CPR and everything. Might be your only chance to touch me.”

And that’s when it happened.

He turned. Looked you dead in the eye. And said, “You should shut the fuck up for once.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” he said, voice low and calm—too calm. “You act like you want attention, but I don’t think you’re ready for what happens when you actually get mine.”

Oh.

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to stand up, take your hand, and lead you down the hall like it was nothing. Weren’t expecting to end up shoved against the wall of an empty storage room, lights dim, his hoodie off and jaw clenched.

“Still think I’m an NPC?” he asked, fingers already under your skirt.

“Ni-ki—”

“Be quiet,” he said again, this time pressed against your ear. “You’ve been talking all month. Time to listen.”

And listen you did.

To the sound of your own whimpers as he bent you over a forgotten couch, shoved your panties aside, and fucked into you like it was something he’d been planning—mapping out in that silent mind of his for weeks.

“You always run your mouth,” he muttered, pulling your head back by your hair just enough to kiss your throat. “So loud. Always poking me like I’m not gonna do anything.”

“You never—ah—said I had to stop—”

Ni-ki didn’t hesitate. One of his large hands gripped your waist, the other fisting in your hair, forcing you to arch your back just enough. You barely managed a breath before he shoved the thick head of his cock against your entrance, pressing in hard.

The stretch made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. He didn’t ease you into it—he drove himself inside you all at once, splitting you wide open on his cock in one rough, overwhelming thrust. Your nails dug into the couch cushions, back bowing under the sudden, brutal pressure.

“Fuck—Ni-ki—” you whimpered, the force of it nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

He wasn’t gentle. His hips slammed into yours over and over, heavy, relentless, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room. His cock pounded deep inside you, thick and hot, making your pussy spasm around him with every brutal stroke. Each thrust forced needy, broken sounds from your lips, louder than you could even think to control.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, spilling over when he fucked you harder, chasing the tight clench of your walls around him. You cried—not just from the stretch, but from the pure overwhelming feeling of being used and filled so perfectly, so completely, you couldn’t even think straight.

“You wanted attention, right?” Ni-ki growled low against your ear, voice a deep, dangerous rumble. His hand slipped between your legs, fingers rubbing fast, brutal circles over your swollen clit. “Take it.”

You sobbed, legs trembling uncontrollably under the weight of him, mind blank from how good it felt, how rough he was giving it to you. Every part of you was reduced to raw sensation: the thick drag of his cock splitting you open, the helpless clenching of your cunt around him, the burn in your thighs from how hard he kept you pinned in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a slap, sudden and devastating. You wailed his name, body convulsing, squeezing tight around him as he fucked you through it mercilessly. His pace grew frantic, sloppy, chasing his own release. With a broken, low groan, he slammed deep one last time and came inside you, cock pulsing thick spurts of hot cum against your walls.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, just breathing hard.

When you finally collapsed forward, boneless and dazed, Ni-ki gently pulled you onto his lap, his cock still buried inside you, softening slowly. His hands roamed your back soothingly, like he hadn’t just wrecked you five minutes ago.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice soft again, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You could only nod weakly, mind swimming.

He smiled faintly, arms wrapping tighter around you. “You talk too much,” he said, a little smug. “But I guess I like you anyway.”

It had only been a few weeks since you and Sunghoon moved in together. Things were still new, still soft around the edges. Boxes half-unpacked, routines not quite settled, kisses traded in the middle of lazy afternoons. It wasn’t official-official—no labels, no big confessions—but everything between you had felt right. Comfortable. Safe.

So when you casually mentioned your friend would be staying the night—“just for a bit, promise, he’s passing through”—Sunghoon didn’t think much of it.

Until he opened the door.

Jake.

Tall, sharp-jawed, with easy charm in his voice and pretty-boy eyes that lingered a beat too long when they met yours. His duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Hey, Hoon. Thanks for letting me crash.”

Sunghoon didn’t remember saying yes.

And you—fuck, you looked excited. Lit up, like this was someone you hadn’t seen in a while. Like this wasn’t just any friend.

Jake pulled you in for a hug, his hand resting low on your back, his mouth brushing close to your ear as he murmured something that made you laugh. That laugh again.

Sunghoon didn’t say a word.

He just watched.

Watched Jake sit next to you on the couch after dinner. Watched how your knees touched and you didn’t move away. Watched how Jake handed you his hoodie when you said you were cold, like it was second nature.

Watched how you wore it.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal.

But by midnight, when Jake was still up with you, flipping through old photos on your phone and laughing like he belonged here, Sunghoon was seething.

You eventually got up to grab water, leaving them alone in the living room.

Jake leaned back on the couch, glancing at him. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said casually, like they were just two guys catching up.

Sunghoon gave a tight smile. “I didn’t know her friend was a guy.”

Jake raised a brow. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Sunghoon muttered. “She didn’t.”

Jake shrugged, completely unbothered. “Well. Nothing to worry about, man. Y/N and I go way back. Totally platonic.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward the hallway, where you were still out of earshot.

His jaw clenched. His voice dropped.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Jake only grinned, like he could smell the tension in the room and was enjoying the hell out of it. He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, relaxed, confident, completely at ease in a space that wasn’t his. “Man, she’s changed a lot since we last hung out. Got hotter somehow,” he added with a little smirk.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink.

“Right. Real glow up,” he said flatly, taking a sip from his water bottle, eyes fixed on the TV even though it wasn’t playing anything.

Jake chuckled. “You two are roommates, right? Just roommates?”

Sunghoon’s grip on the bottle tightened.

You walked back in just then, Jake flashing you that stupid, too-pretty smile. “We were just catching up. You didn’t tell me Hoon was so protective.”

You laughed, sliding onto the couch beside him, not noticing the way Sunghoon’s eyes tracked how Jake shifted closer, thigh brushing yours.

“We’re not roommates,” you said, glancing at Sunghoon with a teasing look. “We live together.”

Jake raised a brow. “Same thing.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon said sharply—too sharply.

You blinked. “Hoon?”

His jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter.”

You and Jake kept chatting, the conversation picking up again like nothing happened, but Sunghoon barely heard a word. His head was loud—too loud. He kept telling himself he didn’t care. That you could be close with whoever you wanted. That he didn’t need to say anything because it wasn’t like that between you two.

Except it was.

Except the way Jake touched you made his blood boil.

Except the way you laughed at Jake’s stupid jokes made something burn low in his stomach.

And when you stretched your arms over your head, hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin, Jake’s eyes dropped to your waist and didn’t come back up right away.

Sunghoon stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You looked up, surprised. “Already?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at Jake. “Have fun catching up.”

Then he turned and walked down the hallway, hands clenched at his sides, breathing harder than he wanted to admit.

He shut the bedroom door behind him—but he didn’t sleep.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding in his chest as your voice carried faintly through the walls. Soft. Sweet. His.

You were his.

Even if he’d never said it. Even if he was too much of a coward to admit it out loud. Even if he was still pretending it didn’t mean anything—this thing between you.

But Jake?

Jake wasn’t pretending anything.

And that was going to be a problem.

The clock hit 1:14 a.m.

You were still out there with him.

Sunghoon rolled onto his side, arm tucked under his head, eyes trained on the door like it might open at any second. It didn’t. Laughter filtered faintly through the wall instead—yours and Jake’s. Low, intimate. The kind of laugh you gave when you were completely at ease. The kind of laugh Sunghoon heard in his dreams, usually when you were curled up against his chest in the early morning, half-asleep and warm.

He hated that Jake was hearing it now. Hearing you like that.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He kept telling himself to let it go. That you’d chosen to live with him, not Jake. That you came home to him, not Jake. That Jake was just a friend.

But something about the way Jake looked at you tonight…

Something about the way you looked back…

He didn’t like it.

And he really didn’t like that he couldn’t stop picturing Jake sitting closer. Testing limits. Making some slick little comment that made you blush. Maybe brushing your hair behind your ear. Maybe daring to touch your thigh the way only he should.

Sunghoon sat up. Too hot. Too tense. His jaw ached from clenching so hard.

Then he heard your voice. Closer this time.

You were walking down the hall.

His heart thumped.

A moment later, the door creaked open and you stepped inside, Jake’s hoodie still hanging loose around your frame, swallowing your body in fabric that smelled like him. Not Sunghoon.

You smiled sleepily. “Hey… I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the hoodie. His hoodie—the one he gave you a few nights ago when you were cold—was lying untouched on the desk chair behind you. Abandoned.

“No,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t wake me.”

You crossed the room, clearly unaware of the storm under his calm. “Jake says hi. He’s crashing on the couch now.”

Sunghoon hummed in response, barely a sound. You were already climbing into bed, pulling the covers over your legs.

“You okay?” you asked softly, glancing at him.

“Fine.”

You gave him a look, like you didn’t believe him—but you didn’t push. You just curled up on your side, facing away from him.

Silence.

His eyes dropped to your waist. The hem of the hoodie had ridden up just slightly, exposing the curve of your hip, your bare thigh peeking out. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under that. Not when you’d been lounging in the living room all night in it.

Wearing his hoodie like that would’ve had him touching you already.

But this? Jake’s?

“Take it off,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, turning back toward him. “What?”

Sunghoon’s eyes were sharp now, burning into yours in the dark.

“That hoodie. Take it off.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s his,” he said, voice low and tight. “And I don’t want to see you in it.”

You stared at him, surprised by the edge in his tone. “Sunghoon…”

He looked away. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, sitting up slowly. “Say it.”

“I did,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “I said take it off.”

You studied him in the silence that followed. The clenched jaw. The barely restrained tension. The heat in his eyes that didn’t match the coolness of his words.

“…Are you jealous?”

He scoffed. “Why would I be?”

You smirked just a little, like you knew exactly why.

That made it worse.

Sunghoon lay back down and turned away from you, teeth gritted, fists curled into the sheets.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

He just didn’t want Jake looking at you like that. Touching you like that. Making you laugh like that.

That wasn’t jealousy.

That was… something else.

Right?

The morning after was quiet.

Too quiet.

You were making coffee in the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep, dressed in one of Sunghoon’s old tees—thankfully his again this time. Jake wandered in behind you, yawning, stretching, acting like this was his place too. Sunghoon sat at the dining table, nursing a mug of black coffee he hadn’t touched, eyes following every move you made.

He watched as Jake leaned casually against the counter beside you, close—too close.

Watched as you laughed at something Jake said.

Watched as Jake’s hand slipped to your shoulder, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of your shirt. “God, you’re still the same,” Jake said, chuckling. “Always trying to make people feel at home, even when you’re half asleep.”

You smiled. “Well, you are a guest.”

Sunghoon’s knuckles went white around his mug.

Jake’s hand didn’t move.

It stayed right there on your shoulder, fingertips warm, possessive, easy like it belonged there.

Sunghoon stood up so fast the chair scraped harshly against the floor. You and Jake both turned to look at him—but before either of you could say a word, Sunghoon was already moving.

He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed your waist with both hands, and pulled you in without hesitation.

Then his mouth was on yours.

Hard. Hot. Unapologetic.

You gasped, hands bracing on his chest in shock, but he didn’t stop. His grip tightened, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair as his lips crashed over yours again—claiming, tasting, devouring. Like he’d been starving.

You barely had a second to react before he broke the kiss, just enough to speak against your lips.

“He doesn’t get to touch you.”

Your eyes widened, breath caught in your throat. “Sunghoon—”

But he kissed you again—this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to burn the taste of you into memory. Like he wanted Jake to see exactly what you meant to him.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly behind you. “Dude, seriously?”

Sunghoon pulled away just enough to turn his head, his arm still locked around your waist.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, eyes cold. “Seriously.”

Jake looked between you two, lips parting like he wanted to say something smart—but for once, he didn’t. He just blinked, muttered something under his breath, and grabbed his mug to leave the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned back to Sunghoon, dazed and breathless.

“…What the hell was that?”

His eyes searched yours, like he couldn’t believe he just did that either. But the flush creeping up his neck said everything he wouldn’t.

“I’m not just your roommate,” he said hoarsely. “And he’s not just a friend. Not when he looks at you like that.”

You stared at him, stunned.

Then a smile tugged at your lips.

“Took you long enough.”

You barely made it to the bedroom before Sunghoon had you pinned against the door, mouth already on your neck, hands roaming with a desperation that had been building for weeks—months, maybe.

“Fucking knew he wanted you,” he growled against your skin, nipping hard just below your ear, “but he’s not the one you come home to, is he?”

You shook your head, breath catching. “N-No.”

“Say it.”

“He’s not,” you gasped. “He’s not you.”

Sunghoon kissed you again, rough and possessive, tugging at the hem of your shirt until it was over your head and on the floor. His eyes dragged down your body like he was seeing it for the first time—like Jake’s hands on you had flipped a switch he couldn’t shut off.

“You’re mine,” he said lowly, pushing you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Mine to look at. Mine to fuck. Not his.”

Then he shoved you down.

You bounced lightly against the mattress, eyes wide and lips parted, heat pooling between your thighs at the sight of him stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. He crawled over you, caging you in, and leaned down until your noses were nearly touching.

“Bet he thought about it last night,” he whispered. “You in that hoodie. No panties underneath. Just walking around like that.”

You whimpered, his hand sliding between your legs, pressing through the damp fabric of your underwear.

“He doesn’t get to know what you sound like when you beg,” he murmured. “But he’s about to hear it.”

He yanked your panties down, tossing them somewhere behind him, and spread your thighs wide open with a firm grip. His eyes were dark, wild, hungry.

“Say my name,” he ordered as he dipped his head between your legs.

“Sunghoon—!”

You cried out the second his tongue touched you, hot and wet and unrelenting. He licked into you with long, slow strokes, groaning against your heat like he needed it. One arm hooked around your thigh, keeping you locked in place as your hips bucked up toward his face.

Every gasp, every moan, every yes, right there, echoed loud and clear through the thin walls.

And Sunghoon made no effort to be quiet. In fact, he made it louder.

He pulled off for just a second, voice thick and soaked in pride.

“Think he’s listening, baby?” he panted, licking his lips. “Think he knows I’m the one making you cum?”

You could barely answer before he buried two fingers inside you, curling just right, and sucked your clit back into his mouth.

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, back arching off the bed as you cried his name like a prayer—over and over again.

Sunghoon didn’t stop until you were shaking, flushed, completely wrecked.

Then he climbed up your body, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, your lips—messy and deep and full of everything he hadn’t said before.

“You think he can make you feel like that?” he whispered, lining himself up at your entrance. “Let him listen to what he can’t have.”

And then he pushed in.

Hard.

You both moaned—loud, shameless, hungry. The bed rocked under the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. You couldn’t stop the sounds he dragged out of you even if you wanted to—whimpers and cries and broken sobs of please, more, don’t stop.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, gripping your hips tight. “Yeah… that’s it. Louder. Let him fucking hear how good I make you feel.”

He angled his hips and hit that spot—your voice cracked.

“Sunghoon—fuck—!”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.