doll's recs

never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate – all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldn’t search for it, or even try for it ever again. 

but that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? it happens when you’re least expecting it. you don’t find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that there’s no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake. 

jake had always been around – he’s a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair. 

he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasn’t so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you might’ve found a good friend in jake. 

none of it could’ve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead. 

love. real love, pure love. a love that didn’t keep you waiting, that didn’t have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didn’t deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you. 

after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex. 

he comforted you through it – held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldn’t take care of yourself – and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side. 

once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didn’t have to be around the stuff any longer.

jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, you’re not sure if jake even has any. he’s so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu. 

you’re convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone you’ve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs. 

you’re so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow – he loves you even more. 

—

not a day goes by where jake doesn’t think about marrying you. 

you don’t even have to do anything and already, he’s picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. he’s been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. he’s not prepared enough. but he will be, soon. 

he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little ‘take your time handsome :)’ text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants – jay’s sweatpants. 

every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake – you’d called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, he’d thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadn’t realised was from the pile of your ex’s clothes.

by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after you’d had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it would’ve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadn’t stopped things before they could escalate. 

you’re too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again – not after you handed it over to jake’s hands. 

jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you don’t even realise it, but it’s why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place. 

jake pockets his phone into jay’s sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt – also jay’s – before spritzing on a layer of jay’s favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jay’s favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jay’s. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once he’d heard the news of your breakup, he didn’t think twice about dyeing it back to black. 

jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jay’s height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jay’s. 

jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesn’t recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick ‘On my way cutie <3’ before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jay’s jeans he wore yesterday on the floor. 

jake hadn’t thrown out a single possession of your ex’s like he promised you. that day he drove them to the ‘dump’ to end up in a heap of landfill, he’d actually just taken them right back to his house, where he’s since been studying them harder than his college finals. 

every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. he’s even tried learning some of jay’s homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jay’s scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jay’s closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay – every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much you’d think he was in love. 

no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.

what you don’t know is that jake wanted you first, from afar – from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing. 

you don’t even remember jake’s existence before you met him as jay’s friend. he wasn’t memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay. 

and it’s worked better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

yesterday, while he was over, you’d shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.

“you should start again,” he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. “it’s a healthy hobby to have.”

“i only ever wrote when i was upset.” you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. “i don’t need it anymore.”

so today, he has an objective. 

jake had treated you to a date night-in. he’d cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jay’s recipes – including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients – then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how you’d fall asleep whenever he put them on.

drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadn’t expected you to last long. and yet you’d hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants. 

jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like he’d planned. 

your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot. 

diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page. 

all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love. 

he moved quickly – since there’s no telling if you’d miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise he’s gone – so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. he’ll be watching the video back later anyways, when he’s alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible. 

as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time you’re both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure you’ll never want to leave him. and now he’s got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.

“jakey?”

the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, “yeah baby?” 

“where’d y’go?” you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep. 

“just getting the bed ready,” he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. “i’ll carry you in, okay?” 

“m’kay..”

jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there. 

yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jake’s body. he did it though – he fucking did it! he’s gonna make you his for life. 

—

two pages in and jake thinks he’s scarred for life. 

he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately you’ve wanted it since you’ve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay. 

not just from jay’s own word of mouth – loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he ‘didn’t know how to handle all that’ – but from jake’s own ears too. he’d walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. they’d be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jay’s mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.

being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another – but this… this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation. 

you slept with jay on the first date – or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didn’t care. 

here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip. 

he’s helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just can’t look away. he needs this knowledge – he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe he’s made for you. 

he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldn’t do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back. 

hm. 

jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jay’s) sweats. there’s even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants. 

who would’ve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard. 

shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading. 

that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throat–

jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick. 

with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees he’s not even halfway through. he hasn’t even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where there’s sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him. 

he’s in for a long night with his right hand. 

—

“jake, what are you thinking?”

jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly. 

honest answer? jake’s thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning. 

he’d surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where you’ve been buried in each other’s mouths since. 

somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, you’d taken the initiative to climb into his lap – and where he’d usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each other’s bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose. 

“jakey,” you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. “what’s up?”

he huffs a laugh. “me.” you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. “nah, i’m just.. i still can’t believe you’re real.”

and he means that more than you could know. he’s spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now you’re on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.

his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, “urgh, i’ve been waiting so long, jake.”

“i know,” he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. “you’ve done so well, baby, i’m proud of you–”

“just let me sit on your dick already!”

jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how you’re behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet you’re.. bossing jake around? 

this isn’t going how it should be…

“i want you in me, jake.” you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. “i wanna ride you.” his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow he’s taking this. “let me?” 

shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there – slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that he’s supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you. 

“you think you can tell me what to do?” he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. “that’s no way to get what you want, baby.”

“jake–” you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. “i– i’m sorry..”

he hums, unconvinced. “you use your manners when you ask.” jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. he’d bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands. 

you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesn’t recognise. submission, must be. “please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

jake pokes his cheek with his tongue – something jay did that drove you crazy – and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jake’s grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval. 

“please.” you almost whine. “jake, please, i’ve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, i’ll be so good.”

the sweetest girl he’s ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?

he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed – jake chuckles in your face. 

“nah.”

within a blink jake’s got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours. 

“we’re doing this my way,” he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. “what you need, baby, is to get fucked.” you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. “then maybe, if you’re so good, you can ask again.” he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. “nicely this time.”

“ah, jake–” you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“you’ve been waiting so long?” jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. “baby. you have no idea about me.”

“a-ah! i’m sorry!” you babble, to jake’s confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. you’ll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?

not even a few seconds later you’re clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until you’re pushing at his chest, whining that it’s too much. 

jake’s dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how you’d daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well he’s doing in mimicking your ex – and you’re drunk off it, you don’t even realise that you’re about to get fucked by the exact same man. 

jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before he’s back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore. 

with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as you’re gripping him like a fucking vice. everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.

he’s able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell. 

“you feel so perfect, baby,” he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. “i’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while he’s fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet you’re taking all of him without protest. because that’s just how you like it. 

once you’ve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name. 

“yeah, baby?” he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. that’d be the one difference between them – jake won’t be that stupid. “feels good huh?”

you can’t even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises what’s happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back. 

you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldn’t lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. you’ve popped off twice and he’s barely gotten started. 

jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive. 

“c’mere, baby, you’re doing so well,” he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. “you’re gonna take more for me. right?”

you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.

jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew you’d fallen in love with jay. 

he wants to see it happen for himself. 

jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. he’s chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he can’t help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him. 

jake’s vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until he’s spilling out inside of you. he’s so possessed he doesn’t even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?

“ja..” you try to say his name, trailing off halfway. 

he opens his eyes – not even realising they closed – as he looks down at you. you’re even more gone than he is. do you even realise that it’s not your ex fucking you stupid right now? 

with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?

jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jake’s tongue. 

“j-ja–! ja– ja–!” you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jake’s groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like you’re saying jay. 

j-jay! jay– jay–!

he’s done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay. 

“keep on saying that, baby,” jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you – right until you’re letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until he’s releasing your clit with a wet pop. 

he lifts himself up again until he’s at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind. 

“hold it.” he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. “open, baby.”

you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you. 

“you gotta return the favour, yeah?” he only hopes you don’t notice how breathless he is, how he’s just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasn’t putting on this whole jay persona, he’d be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now. 

you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now. 

jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until he’s shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks he’s ready for yet another round. 

before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands. 

“oh no, no, hey,” jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. “baby, did i hurt you? did i–”

“no, jake,” you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. “you didn’t do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i just–” another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.

what you don’t tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and you’re sure you must’ve even said your ex’s name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man who’d put you there.

everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you don’t miss him, you don’t still love him. it’s just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them. 

“i’m so sorry,” you sniffle. “jake.” you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who you’re with. 

“no, no.” he shushes you, stroking your hair. “it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

he really is too perfect for you. you don’t know how you’ll ever deserve someone as pure as him. 

“i love you.” 

jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that you’re not serious. “wh– you.. you mean that?”

“i do.” you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. “i love you, jakey.”

it’s the first time he’s heard it from you. it might be too early, but you don’t care. nothing’s too early if it’s all fate, all meant to be. 

“i love you more.” he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “more than you could ever know.”

your body stiffens as you’re suddenly transported back in time – living out a once fond memory with jay, how he’d said those exact words back after you’d said you love him first. 

jay– no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.

jake wasn’t him, he’d never be him. what were you tripping for?

He sat by the window nook now, completely drenched, hoodie clinging to his skin while droplets of rainwater dampened the built-in seat beneath him. Dark strands of hair dripped onto his forehead as the storm battered against the glass just beside him. The faint smell of rain followed him inside, familiar enough that you’d long since started associating it with him.

It wasn’t even hard for him to get in anymore.

Your room sat at the very front of the house, the small roof over the entryway sticking out just enough for him to pull himself up if he was careful. Four years together had apparently given him enough experience to do it almost effortlessly.

Well — mostly effortlessly.

“You act like I almost died getting here,” he muttered, lips pressed into a pout while you aggressively rubbed the towel over his head.

“You slipped last time.”

“I caught myself.”

“You almost took the gutter down with you.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You literally scared the shit out of me, Hee.”

Heeseung only grinned at that, soft and annoyingly pleased with himself, like your concern was something precious he wanted to keep.

You sighed dramatically, though your hands gentled almost immediately as you continued drying his hair.

Four years.

Sometimes it still startled you.

You’d started “dating” at sixteen in the careless, unserious way high schoolers often did — passing notes during class, sharing wired earphones during lunch, sneaking around after school with no real understanding of what commitment actually meant. Half the time, the two of you had only dated because your friends insisted you already acted like a couple anyway.

Back then, everything with him had felt light.

Fun.

He’d walk you home carrying your backpack even when you told him not to. You’d spend entire phone calls arguing about songs neither of you actually hated. He’d steal fries off your tray at lunch and swear your food somehow tasted better than his.

You’d broken up once for three days during junior year because he forgot your monthsary.

Then got back together because both of you were miserable about it.

Stupid teenage things.

But somewhere between then and now, things had shifted quietly into something deeper.

It happened slowly enough that neither of you noticed at first.

The late-night calls became late-night conversations about the future. The casual “I miss you” texts turned into him showing up outside your house after bad days because he couldn’t stand knowing you were upset alone. You started becoming part of each other’s routines without trying.

Without asking.

Now he climbed through your bedroom window in thunderstorms just because he wanted to see you for an hour before going home.

The worst part was that you always let him in.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, realizing your hands had stopped moving.

“Yeah, staring at this insane man in front of me.”

“That’s not what that look was.”

“Yes, it was.”

He laughed softly under his breath, reaching up to wrap his fingers loosely around your wrist before pulling your hand away from the towel entirely.

“I wanted to see you, pretty,” he murmured.

The teasing tone he usually carried was gone now, replaced by something quieter. More sincere.

Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far off.

“You always tell me to chase after the things I want, right?” he continued, eyes fixed on yours. “So I came here.”

Your expression softened immediately despite yourself.

God.

Four years later, and he still knew exactly how to get away with things.

You dropped the towel onto the floor beside him before stepping closer, your hands moving to cup his rain-cold cheeks. His skin was freezing beneath your palms, but he leaned into your touch instantly anyway, eyes fluttering for half a second like he’d been waiting for it.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Still, you leaned forward anyway, pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead.

His shoulders relaxed beneath your hands almost immediately.

Then, quieter this time, with the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile, “Whatever you say, loser.”

It was no surprise to anyone that your parents were probably the strictest people alive.

Even random strangers you talked to in online chatrooms knew about it.

You were legally an adult already, yet somehow still lived under rules stricter than most middle schoolers. But technically, it made sense — you still lived under their roof while attending college. You’d had plenty of opportunities to move out, plenty of reasons to, too, but staying home meant attending your dream university without constantly worrying about tuition, rent, groceries, or whether you’d survive off instant noodles for the rest of the semester.

So you stayed.

In exchange, your freedom was practically nonexistent.

Your parents were the kind of people who believed every horrifying thing printed in newspapers or aired on television. One kidnapping case three cities away suddenly meant you weren’t allowed outside past seven. A segment about drunk driving meant lectures during dinner for an entire week. Every terrible thing they heard only made them tighter, stricter, more protective.

Most parents loosened their grip as their children grew older.

Yours only held on harder.

They had rules for everything. Honestly, the list was probably longer than the Code of Hammurabi itself.

No smoking. No drinking. No parties. No clubbing. Curfew before sunset unless it involved academics. Finish your chores before touching anything remotely enjoyable. Most importantly — absolutely no boyfriends.

Unfortunately for them, strict parents rarely created obedient children.

They created sneaky ones.

And you were living proof of that.

Drinking?

You started around a year ago.

Your first time happened with your boy best friend, Hoshi, during what your parents believed was an innocent afternoon walk. Somehow, that “walk” turned into the two of you sitting outside in broad daylight with cheap alcohol burning down your throat while you tried not to cough your lungs out in front of him.

The taste was awful.

But the feeling afterward wasn’t.

For the first time in a while, your mind felt quiet. Warm. Easy. Like every frustrating thing weighing on your shoulders had blurred around the edges for a couple of hours.

You still remembered desperately forcing yourself to eat afterward so your breath wouldn’t smell suspicious when you got home. Sitting around for nearly an hour pretending to scroll through your phone while trying to sober up enough to look normal in front of your parents.

Smoking?

That happened a few months ago.

Ryujin handed you a cigarette outside a convenience store while the two of you were buying materials for a class project. You only meant to try one drag out of curiosity.

You nearly choked to death immediately after.

Ryujin laughed so hard she had to hold onto the side of the building.

Then there was the biggest rule of all.

No boyfriends.

Which was ironic, considering you’d already had one since sophomore year of high school.

Four years.

Four entire years of sneaking around your parents behind carefully constructed lies and perfectly rehearsed excuses.

Late-night phone calls whispered beneath your blanket. “Group studies” that were actually dates. Deleted messages. Fake stories. Secret kisses stolen before you went back home pretending nothing happened.

It was exhausting sometimes.

Stressful, absolutely.

But thrilling, too.

Because despite the rules, the lying, the double life — you loved it so, so much.

You loved the freedom hidden inside rebellion.

And maybe, just maybe, you loved him enough to risk getting caught.

Heeseung was sitting in your desk chair now, lazily scrolling through your open tabs of Tumblr and Facebook like he owned the place.

Every few seconds, another ridiculous post from your university friends flashed across the screen.

Photos taken inside crowded clubs with neon lights washing over flushed faces. Videos from late-night drives with music blasting so loudly the audio distorted. Someone posting about a spontaneous sleepover at some questionable motel in the middle of nowhere. Another group catching flights out of the country just because they could.

Everyone always seemed to be doing something.

Living.

Meanwhile, you were stuck sneaking your own boyfriend through your bedroom window like a criminal.

Heeseung, completely unbothered by the injustice of your life, leaned back comfortably in the chair while wearing his old basketball jersey from senior year — the one he’d given you after graduation along with a pile of other sentimental things he claimed “smelled too much like high school.”

The loose jersey exposed his arms entirely, toned biceps flexing every time he scrolled or clicked something on your computer mouse.

It was distracting.

Very distracting.

A pair of gray joggers hung low on his hips too — another thing technically hidden inside your room. He’d accidentally slept over around three months ago after both of you knocked out while studying, and in the panic of sneaking him out before sunrise, he’d forgotten them completely.

Thankfully, your parents had never found the container shoved into the back of your closet filled with clothes you “didn’t wear anymore.”

In reality, half of it belonged to him.

You sat cross-legged on your bed nearby, flipping through the last few pages of your magazine while occasionally glancing over at him.

The black lace trim of your camisole brushed against your skin every time you moved, soft fabric hugging your body comfortably. The beige middle contrasted against the dark details perfectly, and paired with your lounge shorts, the ones your aunt gifted you two Christmases ago, you looked effortlessly pretty without even trying.

Heeseung had already looked at you at least ten times in the last five minutes alone.

Then suddenly—

“Wait,” he said.

You glanced up lazily.

“Hm?”

He pointed at your computer screen.

A newly uploaded post from Ryujin filled the monitor, a blurry group picture of your girlfriends packed together inside some club bathroom, all glittery makeup and drunk smiles.

The caption read:

y/n was actually the one who took the photo (hella real) :-) #wemissyoubaddie #funnightout #yolo

Your face dropped instantly.

“Fuck my life, this is so stupid.”

The bitterness in your voice caught Heeseung off guard enough for him to turn fully toward you.

“What’s up?”

You tossed your magazine aside with far more force than necessary before dragging a hand down your face.

“It’s just so unfair sometimes,” you muttered. “Everyone gets to go out and do normal college things while I’m locked up in this house twenty-four seven like the apocalypse is about to happen.”

Heeseung stayed quiet, listening.

“My parents act like if I leave the house past sunset I’m immediately gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere,” you continued, frustration spilling out faster now. “Ryujin literally sleeps over at random people’s apartments. Sunoo went to Batanes, that… northernmost province in the Philippines or whatever, for literally three days without even telling his parents first. I don’t even know how the hell he got the money for that! Ugh, everyone gets to just… live normally.”

You stood up from your bed abruptly and walked toward your desk, arms crossing tightly over your chest as you stared at the stupid Facebook post still glowing on your screen.

“And meanwhile I have to lie just to breathe.”

For a moment, the room went quiet except for the rain outside.

Then you felt his hands.

Heeseung reached for your waist gently, pulling you backward until you stumbled between his legs with a surprised laugh leaving your mouth.

“Hee—”

Before you could complain, he tugged you fully down onto his lap.

Instinctively, you settled there comfortably, your arms looping loosely around his shoulders while his hands stayed warm against your waist.

“Shhh,” he murmured softly, pressing his cheek against your stomach for a second. “It’s okay.”

You sighed dramatically despite melting into him immediately.

“It’s not okay.”

“It will be.”

He tilted his head back to look at you properly then, expression calmer than yours always seemed to be.

“You’ll get to experience all that stuff someday,” he said quietly. “The parties, trips, dumb late-night drives, all of it.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You will. I’m so sure of it.”

The certainty in his voice made your chest ache a little.

He rubbed slow circles into your waist with his thumbs.

“And when you do,” he added with a small grin, “I’ll probably be there annoying you through all of it.”

That finally pulled a reluctant smile out of you.

“You’re already annoying.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “But you like me anyway, no?”

The chair creaks beneath you, knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his thighs. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft cotton of the basketball jersey. Heeseung’s hands settle at your waist, his fingers moving in slow, careful circles as if he’s still learning the shape of where it’s safe to hold you. 

He looks up at you, and the lamplight carves shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. His lips part, then close. 

A beat passes. 

Then another.

You feel the heat creeping up your neck, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle. So you pout, just a little, just to break the tension, a soft downturn of your lips that's half real, half teasing.

His eyes catch it immediately. A slow grin spreads across his face, lazy and warm.

"You're cute when you get pouty," he murmurs, thumbs stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of your lounge shorts.

Your eyes narrow, but there's no bite in it. "The window is right there if you wanna leave."

He laughs, low and short, and his hands tighten on your hips. "Not a chance, gorgeous."

You roll your eyes, but the smile gives you away. Your fingers slide from his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, soft strands slipping between your knuckles. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering half-shut for a second.

"You're so warm," you say, quieter now.

"So are you." His voice dips, rougher. "I feel like I'm burning up over here."

The air between you both immediately thickens. 

His hands move — one sliding up your spine, the other settling on your thigh, thumb tracing absent circles on the inside. The fabric of his joggers is soft against your bare skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him through the thin layers.

You lean in first.

Your lips brush his gently at first, testing. His breath hitches, and then he's kissing you back, soft and slow, his mouth molding against yours like he's got all the time in the world. One hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your face just right.

The kiss deepens gradually. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking, and you part for him. The taste of him floods your senses, warm, faintly sweet from the soda he had earlier, utterly addictive. A small sound escapes your throat, swallowed by his mouth.

His hand slides down your back, palm pressing flat against the dip of your spine, pulling you closer. The chair shifts as he adjusts, and you feel it — the growing hardness beneath his joggers, pressing against your inner thigh.

He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, "Fuck, you taste good."

"Shut up," you whisper, but there's no heat in it. You pull him back in.

This time, the kiss turns messier. Teeth graze your lower lip, tugging, and his groan vibrates against your mouth. Your hips shift forward instinctively, grinding down against him, and the friction sends a jolt straight through you.

Heeseung's breath stutters. His hands grip your hips, steadying you, guiding you into a slow roll that makes the chair squeak in protest beneath you both.

"Yeah," he breathes, lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat. "Just like that, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders through the jersey. His mouth finds the hollow of your collarbone, sucking lightly, and your head falls back with a soft moan. His tongue soothes the spot, then he's kissing his way back up to your lips.

"You're shaking," he says against your mouth, half a question, half a statement.

"Mmm." You're not sure if it's from want or nerves or both. "Shut up and kiss me."

He laughs, breath warm and distracting. "Bossy."

But he does. His lips capture yours again, hungrier now, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your head spin. His hand leaves your hip to palm your breast through the lace of your camisole. The fabric is thin enough that you feel every ridge of his fingers, every press of his thumb as he finds your nipple and rolls it gently.

You gasp into his mouth. He smiles against your lips.

"Like that, baby?"

"Don't—" You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Don't be smug."

"Never." His thumb keeps circling, and his other hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him. The pressure of his cock against your core is maddening through the layers of fabric.

You rock your hips again, a little more desperate this time, and the chair groans loudly beneath you. Heeseung's head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

"Fuck," he pants. "You're gonna make me lose my mind."

"What’s holding you back then? Let me."

Your hand slides down his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. His abs tense under your touch, and he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you trail your fingers lower, over the waistband of his joggers, stopping just short of where he's straining against the fabric.

"Please," he whispers, voice cracking.

"Please what?"

He swallows hard. "Please keep touching me. Don't—shit, don’t stop."

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. "Don’t sweat it."

Then you kiss him again — deep, consuming, all tongue and teeth and desperate little sounds. His hips buck up against you, instinct taking over, and you grind back down, matching his rhythm. The chair rocks with you, a steady creak-creak-creak that fills the room along with your mingled breaths.

His hand slides under your camisole, palm flat against your stomach, then higher until he's cupping your bare breast. His thumb flicks across your nipple, and you moan into his mouth.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your lips are swollen, your hair a mess, your eyes dark and hazy. He brushes a strand behind your ear, gaze soft. "So fucking beautiful."

"Kiss me again," you demand, breathless.

He does. He kisses you until your lungs burn, until the world narrows down to the press of his body against yours, the heat of his palm on your skin, the way his hips roll up to meet yours with increasing urgency.

His mouth trails down your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin there. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close.

"Baby," he gasps against your collarbone. "I need—I need more."

"I know." Your voice is ragged. "I know."

He lifts his head, eyes meeting yours, pupils blown so wide they're almost black. His lips are red and wet, his breathing uneven. He looks ruined already, and you've barely started.

His thumb traces your hip bone through the fabric of your shorts. "Can I—"

"Yes."

The word tumbles out before he even finishes. You don't need to hear the rest. You want this. You want him.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, tugging gently, asking again with his eyes. You nod, and he takes a shaky breath before sliding his hand lower, palm pressing against the heat of you through your underwear.

Your breath hitches. His eyes lock on yours, watching every flicker of expression.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay."

He kisses you again, softer this time, while his fingers begin to explore, tracing the outline of you through the damp fabric. Your hips twitch against his hand, chasing the pressure.

The chair creaks. Your heart pounds. His thumb circles slowly, deliberately, and you break the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his jersey.

"I've got you," he murmurs into your hair. "I've got you, baby."

His middle finger drags through the slick fabric of your underwear, from your entrance up to your clit, pressing just enough to make your hips jump. You feel the heat of your own arousal soaking through the cotton, and from the way his breath catches, he feels it too.

"Fuck," he breathes, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are dark, hungry. "You're wetter than I was earlier, and I was standing in the rain without an umbrella or anything."

Your face goes scorching. The crimson climbs up your neck, floods your cheeks, burns the tips of your ears. You can't even look at him. You press your face back into his shoulder, mortified, and your hand flies down to swat his away from between your legs.

"Hey—" he starts, but you’re already guiding one of his hands where you want it, slipping it under your camisole so it rests against your skin. 

"Up here," you mumble against his jersey. "Focus on this."

He laughs, low and warm, but his fingers curl slightly as he keeps his hand under your camisole, steady against your skin. "Yeah? This is what you want?"

You nod, face still hidden.

He squeezes gently, thumbs finding your nipples, and a shaky breath escapes you. "Okay, baby. I got you. Whatever you need."

He massages you, slow and deliberate, both hands kneading your breasts while his thumbs circle your nipples until they're pebbled and aching. Your hips start moving again on their own, rolling against his joggers, seeking friction. The length of his cock presses against your core through the layers, and the feeling of it, thick and hard, straining against the soft cotton, makes your mouth go dry.

"I want you so bad," you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your hips grind down slowly, deliberately, feeling him twitch beneath you. "You feel so, so good. So fucking big."

You bite your lip, and a soft moan spills from your throat, high and breathy.

His eyes darken. His hands tighten on your breasts, and he pulls you into another kiss, rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth and desperation. His hips buck up to meet yours, and the chair groans beneath the weight of both of you moving together.

He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "Bed. Now."

Before you can respond, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you across the room, still kissing you, mouths slotting together in between ragged breaths. He pauses at the door, reaches back without looking, and twists the lock. The click echoes in the quiet room.

Then he carries you past the window nook, and you feel him pause again. He pulls back just enough to glance at the curtain, thin, pale, letting in the faint glow of the streetlight outside. He reaches over and yanks it closed, the rings scraping along the rod until the fabric is fully drawn, sealing the two of you in.

He lays you down on the bed, and the mattress dips beneath your weight. He follows you down, hovering over you, but then he sits back on his heels, hands finding the hem of your camisole.

"Can I?"

You nod, breathless.

He pulls it up and over your head, and the cool air hits your bare skin. Your breasts are fully exposed now, and his eyes go wide, his breath stuttering out of him.

"Holy shit," he says, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze drags over you, slow and reverent. "Your breasts are so big. Tiny ass waist..." He trails a finger down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach. "This is what you've been hiding from me?"

Your cheeks burn, but there's a thrill in his awe that makes you feel powerful. "Maybe, we’ll never know."

He shakes his head, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "Unreal."

His hands find your shorts next, hooking into the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Your underwear goes with them, and then you're bare beneath him, completely naked, and the vulnerability of it hits you all at once.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You smell so good," he murmurs against your mouth. "Everything shower?"

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you. "Yeah, actually."

He grins. "Knew it. You always smell like vanilla and something sweet. Drives me insane."

His hand slides down your body, fingers trailing over your stomach, through the coarse hair between your legs, until he reaches your slick folds. His middle finger glides through the wetness, gathering it, and you shiver at the touch.

"Look at you," he says softly, watching his own finger move. "So fucking wet for me. Is this all for me, baby?"

You can barely nod. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

His finger circles your clit, featherlight, and your hips jerk. "That's it. Just relax. Let me take care of you."

He slides one finger inside you, slow, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. He's barely in, just the tip, and already it feels like so much. He watches your face carefully, reading every micro-expression.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Keep going."

He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until his finger is fully sheathed inside you. The feeling is strange and full and good, and you clench around him instinctively.

"There you go," he murmurs. "Feel that? That's me inside you. Just one finger. Gotta get you ready for more, yeah?"

You whimper, and he starts to move, sliding in and out at a torturously slow pace. His thumb finds your clit, pressing tight circles, and the dual sensation makes your back arch off the mattress.

"That's it. That's my good girl. Taking me so well."

A moan builds in your chest, rising, and when it spills from your lips it's too loud — a sharp, breathy cry that cuts through the quiet room.

Heeseung's hand claps over your mouth instantly, but his smile is wicked. "Shh," he whispers, leaning close, lips brushing your ear. "We don't want Mr. and Mrs. L/N to hear their lovely daughter get fucked right now, do we?"

Your eyes go wide, and the heat floods your face again.

"Don't you?" he repeats, voice dropping lower. "Want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically against his palm.

"Good girl," he says, and removes his hand.

He slides a second finger inside you, and the stretch is sharper this time, making you gasp. He pumps them slowly, curling them up, searching. When he finds that rough patch of nerves inside you, your whole body jolts.

"There it is," he breathes. "Right there, huh?"

He presses against it with every stroke, and your hands fly to the sheets, gripping them tight. His mouth descends on your breast, lips closing around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. He sucks gently, then harder, and the combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your chest has your mind going blank.

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same attention. "Look at you. Taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock?"

You're not sure, but you want to try. "Yes," you manage. "Yes, I want it."

He kisses his way back up to your mouth, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to what his fingers are doing between your legs. "You're doing so good, baby. Tell me if it's too much."

"More," you whisper. "Please."

He withdraws his fingers, and you feel suddenly empty. He sits up, pulling his jersey over his head in one fluid motion, and your eyes travel over his bare chest. His shoulders are broad, his stomach toned, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the dim light. You reach out, fingertips tracing the line of his collarbone, down his sternum.

He catches your hand, kisses your palm. "You can touch me all you want later. Promise."

He stands just long enough to push his joggers down, then his boxers, and his cock springs free — already hard, already dripping at the tip. Your breath catches. It's bigger than you expected. Thick. The sight of it makes your stomach flip with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly. Three times. Once. Twice. Three. His eyes never leave yours.

"Enjoying the view, pretty?"

You can't form words. You just nod.

He climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself by your head. His cock is right there, inches from your face, and you can smell the clean scent of his skin, taste the salt in the air.

"Open up," he says softly. "Let me feel that pretty mouth."

You part your lips, and he guides himself inside. The weight of him on your tongue is heavy, unfamiliar, and you take him as best you can. His hand cradles the back of your head, not pushing, just holding.

"That's it. Nice and slow. Just the tip."

He moves gently, sliding in and out of your mouth at a pace that lets you adjust. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that slips from the corner of your eye.

"Doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so deep."

You gag slightly, and he stills immediately, giving you time to breathe.

"Okay?"

You hum around him, and he groans at the vibration.

"Fuck, that's good."

He keeps going, slow and deliberate, fucking your face with a tenderness that doesn't match the filth of the act. When he pulls out, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips.

He kisses the corner of your mouth. "So perfect."

Then he moves down, settling between your legs. His fingers find your slick entrance again, sliding inside with ease. He pumps them slowly, watching your face, and you're already so sensitive from everything that every stroke makes you gasp.

"Look at you. So ready for me. But I want to hear you ask."

"Please," you whimper.

"Please what?"

"Please put it inside. Please, Hee."

His eyes darken. "Good girl."

He reaches over to where his wallet sits on the nightstand, pulls out a foil packet, tears it open with his teeth. You watch him roll the condom down his length, his hands steady, his gaze locked on yours.

He positions himself at your entrance. The head of his cock presses against you, and you feel the heat of him, the pressure, the promise.

"Ready?"

You nod, throat tight.

"Tell me if it hurts. We'll stop. I mean it."

"I know. I want this."

He pushes in.

The first inch is a stretch unlike anything you've ever felt. Your eyes roll back, and you fumble for the pillow, pressing it over your face to muffle the sound that tears from your throat.

He pulls the pillow away, gently but firmly. "No. I want to see you. I want to watch your face when I fill you up."

His hand covers your mouth instead, palm warm against your lips, and you're grateful for it as he pushes deeper. The stretch builds, a burning pressure that makes your eyes water, and then he's fully inside you, seated to the hilt.

He stills. Gives you time.

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So fucking tight around me."

Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the intrusion. He stays perfectly still, letting you feel him, letting your body learn the shape of him.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay," you manage, voice muffled by his hand.

He pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. The drag of him inside you sends sparks through your entire body. He sets a rhythm, deep, slow, deliberate, and his hand stays over your mouth, his other hand gripping your ass, kneading the flesh.

"You're taking me so well," he murmurs against your ear. "First time for both of us, baby, yeah? Still feels like I’ve known your body forever.” 

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he kisses them away.

"My good girl. My perfect fucking girl. Do you feel that? That's me inside you. I'm the only one who gets to have you like this."

His pace quickens slightly, and the sound of him moving inside you, wet and rhythmic, fills the room. He reaches up and massages your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"Look at your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fucking perfect."

The pressure builds in your belly, coiling tight. He feels it too, feels your walls clench around him.

"That's it. You gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock?"

"I—Hee, baby—"

"Come for me, gorgeous. Let me feel you."

His hand moves from your mouth to wrap around your throat, not squeezing just enough to send a thrill through you, and he fucks you faster, deeper, chasing his own release.

"I'm close," he gasps. "Fuck, I'm so close."

"Inside," you plead. "Come inside."

He groans, his hips slamming into yours, and you feel him pulse inside you, feel the condom swell as he spills into it. The feeling of him coming, the way his body shakes, the way he moans your name — it pushes you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you gasp. "Baby, I'm coming—"

He fucks you through it, his pace never slowing, and the overstimulation makes you cry out. He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, and the sensation doubles, triples, splintering through you like lightning.

Your orgasm wrings you out, clenching around him, and he keeps thrusting, slow now, riding it out with you.

When it subsides, he pulls out gently, and you feel empty again. He peels the condom off, and you watch as he strokes himself once, twice, spilling the remaining drops of his release onto your lips, your breasts.

"Open," he says softly, and you part your lips. He smears the last of it across your bottom lip, then leans down and kisses you, tasting himself on your mouth.

Then he disappears between your legs.

His mouth descends on your sensitive core, tongue flat against your folds, lapping up the mess of your release and his. You squeak at the intensity, thighs clamping around his head, but he grips your hips and holds you open.

"None of that. Let me taste you."

His tongue circles your clit, flicks across it, and your hips buck off the mattress. He eats you out like he's starving, tongue plunging inside you, then dragging back up to your clit.

"You taste so wet. Could drink you all night."

It's too much. It's not enough. Your hands find his hair, gripping, pulling, and he groans against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

The second orgasm hits you before you're ready, sharp and sudden, and you cry out his name as you come undone on his tongue.

He laps it all up, gentle now, letting you come down. When he finally surfaces, his chin is wet, his lips are red, and he's grinning.

He crawls up beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Look at me."

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes are soft now, the heat faded, replaced with something tender.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You blink up at him from where you are, he pulls the blanket over both of you carefully afterward, tucking you against his chest while warmth slowly settles beneath the covers.

“Good,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse. “Really good.”

His expression eases immediately, thumb stroking gently across your waist.

“Any pain?”

“A little sore,” you admit quietly. “But it’s okay.”

He leans down to press a slow kiss against your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he murmurs. “I know this was your first time.”

Your chest tightens a little at the tenderness in his voice.

“And it was yours too,” you whisper back.

A small smile spreads across his face.

“Yep,” he says softly. “Guess we trusted each other that much.”

You feel your eyes sting unexpectedly, emotion settling warm and heavy in your chest. Just something overwhelming and soft and impossibly intimate.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble.

“Always.”

The answer comes instantly.

He pulls the blanket higher around your body afterward, making sure you’re fully covered before settling back against the headboard with you tucked securely against him. One of his hands slips into your hair, fingers combing through it slowly, while the other rests warm against your hip beneath the blanket.

Outside, rain still tapped quietly against the windows.

Inside, everything felt still.

Safe.

He presses another kiss to the top of your head before mumbling softly against your hair—

“Get some rest, pretty. I’m not going anywhere.”

⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . dirty little secret by the all-american rejects

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

Choi Yeonjun is a man. In a broad pair of shoulders, the sharp coffee and black pepper that clings to his skin in lingering at the warm pulse points when you press your face there, and how he keeps himself put together in clothes without the wrinkles of a twice-worn wrinkled thing off the carpet like the guys your age, who you could ask if they do exactly that and they would shrug and tell you that they did. Not Yeonjun, though. None of that was what truly set him apart, or put that stamp of ratified man on his integrity.

That was in the opening doors for you. He insists on it. He doesn't want your hands on any car door handles, only wants to hear the click of the heels bought on his dime hitting the ground when you step out after him. And he wasn't afraid to tell you it, either. It was in how he took the burden of ordering for you at the diners he took you, with the warm crystal lights that hung low over your table as he'd thumb the back of your hand. In how that card of his was yours, too.

You were sitting in bed after a thorough, all brand new, skincare routine, when he proposed the flight to Hawaii. A face mask seeped into your skin as you gawked into the glow of the screen. If he had only see your face. He tells you it's the best part.

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: We have a suite booked in O'ahu for this weekend. Do you need anything for it, baby?

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: Pack light, you'll be coming home with more than you came.

11:01pm [Yeonjun]: How does that sound?

It was that part that made your stomach twist up like it was in there jump-roping. It always is the way he talks to you; because, what kind of question is that? He knew exactly how it sounded. His texting mannerisms scream older, succinct with an air of a man who knows exactly how off-guard this all still leaves you. He is so cruel, in the most savory way. It has long since been decided that men age like wine. They sit on a shelf and mature, until they're more rich and deep. Or at least until they've had their fun, their money, and are left with an itch to funnel it all into making something bloom pretty at his attention and spoiling.

Honolulu is so much alike the post cards, and in the same vein, so much different. It's a bustling metropolis with buildings that scrape the turquoise sky. The beach is within walking distance from your hotel, and that is just as peppered with tourists in cover-ups they probably bought right from the ABC store along the strip.

"Waikiki looks nothing like I thought it did," you say. A piña colada daiquiri sweats in your hand under the thick sun. It's hot here. Not like the bone dry heat of summer back at home, but instead it's thick on your skin like a layer of salt off the breeze. You fiddle with the tropical ribbons of your bikini bottoms at the swell of your hip. Lazy and pampered, and nobody could deny it. You wouldn't.

With his arms tucked behind his head on a tanning chair adjacent to yours, he grins. "What did you think it was?" He runs his finger around the rim of his own drink. He'd made you sip off it and found the wrinkle of your nose at the burn humorous.

Not full on city with the same beeping cars and traffic as home, perhaps. Your shoulders have long since turned pink. Your cheeks, a radiant burn to match. It tugs every time your face moves like the skin's just a bit too tight. "Like… When you think of Hawaii, the first thing you think of. That." It's about time you roast your other side. Or else you'll be glowing red on your front and springtime pale at the back. The cheeky bottoms of your bikini's ridden up with all your lounging, the soft spot where your ass meets thigh turned up this way around. Yeonjun doesn't look away when you catch him getting an eyeful. "That guy didn't even ID me." The spot where your nose presses to your pillow of crossed arms smells like sweat and coconutty sunscreen.

"He's not gonna ask you while I'm there," Yeonjun says. He holds one hand up like a visor over his eyes, looking at you under it. The shirt he'd changed into as soon as you hit the room There's a healthy glow set deep in his skin that leads you to suspect that, even if this is the first time he's taken you on a pretty penny vacation, it's not his first. It's a deep, bronze that speaks of a tan that's built on. You're not his first sugar baby. That's something you've come to terms with. It gets a little easier with a swipe of the card.

"Why…?"

Thumbing the crease of your bottom, he supplies his answer with a hum. "It's his job to sell it. This whole city loves a dollar bill." Lifting his own glass, he adds, "And that kid's not trying to offend me by asking."

That kid. A guy somewhere near your age, give or take. It's always those little things that send a furious, brilliant storm of butterflies through your belly. The little ways he reminds you exactly what he is. They never come in grand gestures. More in the way he just moves through the world, and how it bends around his shape to meet him. He didn't ask the associates in the luxury stores he takes you shopping in to perk up and run to serve him, knowing he'll buy. They just do it.

A handful of girls three rows down laugh with one another over the holistic sound of the resort pools. Lifeguards, kids here on vacation with parents glad they're cannon-balling into the pools and bothering the group of twenty-somethings with palms over the mouth of their tumbler glasses to save themselves the misery of discovering how teal, chlorine water mixed with margarita. Sweat has glued your cheek to where it squishes against your upper arm. You keep your head oriented to watch him. "But can't they get in trouble for that?" Talking comes difficult. The heat makes you too lazy. You can hardly even summon the words.

Smiling at that, he answers, "If they get caught, yeah." The muscles dormant in his biceps ripple as he crosses his arms about his chest. He didn't hit the gym; not that you knew of. But he maintains that like he does. Another thing that seems to just come with the whole matured, better, older man package.

That felt topically ironic. Especially considering that you never do intend to be caught. You dread the thought so hard that you've learned to banish it the moment it springs up. It's easier this way. And way more fun. It's not like you never thought about it; toeing the line in the sand without ever really letting the tide rush in on you. "This stuff is so sweet. Should I have another one?"

That gets a kick out of him. "Yeah? You like it?" Yeonjun says. There's a languor dripping off the way he does, sticky like the air. "That's because it's rum, babygirl. All sugar."

Your throat goes all tight. Fumbling after words, you quickly say, "It taste like a smoothie."

"That's why you don't need another one." He laughs. "It hits you faster than you think it will. Especially with the heat." Then, picking up the drink, he drinks down what you hadn't gotten to you. Those expressive brows twist. "Shit, that's sweet."

You only smile and watch him cross his arms back. They look fit to throw you any which way, or even to carry all the bags he would snatch from you before you even got to try and carry yourself. "Okay, it's not that sweet."

Not in any hurry, never in any hurry, he gets that look on his face that you've come to know to mean that he's guiding the conversation a different way. He corrals you so easily that you tend to not even notice that you're on the next topic. He takes control of any conversation with such ease. On your first date, you had been a shaking, shy thing sat across from him. It didn't matter much. With a little steering you and a handsome smile as he listened to you answer his questions, the burden of even carrying conversations was off your shoulders. That was his job, he'd told you later on when you told him how terrified you were.

"I was thinking about heading back to the suite," he starts. The sharp lines of his eyes linger on you like he's plotting it all out in real time, and there's a prospective smoothness to his voice. As if he'd already playing it all out in his head, and he knows exactly what he has in store for you. "Getting dressed. No need to rush, we have all night. We're here to enjoy ourselves. And then head down to the beach walk, shop around, get you some things to try on for me." He doesn't even smirk. Nothing to justify the way your stomach swoops quick. "And I put a reservation in at this nice, low-key grill for us after. If we need to come back real quick to drop off your stuff, we can." Taking one last drink off his glass, he says, "Sound good, baby?"

Sound good? How could you have any objections? You blink at him for a moment. Up until yesterday, you'd never even flown overseas. Vacations meant twelve hour drives and scrapping with your siblings and the blankets and luggage for space in the car, just to end up squished against the door anyway. You were half lead to believe that things like this happened only on T.V. or for faceless people in a tax bracket you knew you'd never touch. And yet…

"What? Do you have something else in mind?" His lips do quirk now, perhaps because he knows exactly what. "We can do whatever your sweet heart wants. No need to be shy with me. We're here for you. Me and Hawaii are good friends."

You rush to correct yourself. "No, that's, like, perfect." Pressing up to your elbows, still baking your backside, you say, "I've just never done this before."

He's heard that before, that first time you were intimate with him. You never imagined your first to be a man with sixteen years on you, who was not your boyfriend but instead something suspended in an awkward space between that and something else. Something that makes your blood rise to your ears and lie to everybody you know. A year ago, two, you would've turned your nose up at another girl for sitting in Hawaii on a man's money. After all, down to its core, it's only a trade, isn't it? The sugar in sugar daddy is the tan in your skin and the necklace at your throat studded, in the shape of a 'Y', in true diamonds. And in sugar baby, it was something much more coveted. Well, you couldn't sneer at yourself now; couldn't have known that it could come like him, and not in a sixty year old man who had to pay for sex because he wouldn't get it otherwise.

"Good." He leans back into his low pool chair, the perfect image of the leisure that is company to what he is. But he's got an airy, soft thing going on with his mouth as the sun rushes back over it. "Maybe we'll go out on a boat tomorrow, too."

He doesn't even have to ask to know the answer.

When Yeonjun means get whatever you want, he means that. Not metaphorically. Not loosely, not a ceiling that you might accidentally brush if you got overeager. There wasn't a budget. Not on you. You have your questions concerning where, exactly, he might have all this money. His Seeking profile didn't even tell. And when you asked, he kissed you and said, "I'm old enough to know that you don't really care about my job. You'd get bored to hell of it eventually. So let's not open that door anyway."

Whatever that meant. You gleaned enough from the dress shirts and ironed slacks that it wasn't anything too mystifying. It was, maybe, a bit overdramatic in the way he said it. Or maybe it was your own head that did the work of imagining some big secret.

Bushes with a deep, waxy green up against pink and white Plumerias with yellow blooming at their centers, stand opposite to the glowing warm storefronts which stud the sidewalk. Your hotel is right in the heart of it all. You step out, and you're right there in downtown Honolulu. Clearly, you two had the same idea as everybody else did. It must be the season back home. The streets are packed. Groups of girls walk with their elbows linked with Leis around their necks, probably coming from a restaurant where they were handed out, couples with kids and couples here hoping to get away from theirs, they all have the same essence about them as you feel in your chest. You feel like you're just gawking at stupid things with stars in your eyes like you've never seen a bush, or a lit-up tourist trap. But how did you even get here? Here, where something sweet hangs and makes the air even heaver. Maybe those flowers. Or the street vendors boasting cups of million-dollar pineapple chunks with the rinds still on and passion fruit stuffed in with papayas, and the way it overlaps with the salt from the water. The shoreline is close enough from here than you can watch the black water rush up and disturb the sand.

"You look beautiful," Yeonjun had told you when you stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't need any flowery enhancers to sound like he meant it. He told you in the simplicity that he was unafraid to use, and even more potently, in the lingering inventory he takes of the dress. His hands had flexed where they were shoved into his pockets in patiently waiting. Because he know more than any man, maybe, that patience paid sweeter. He didn't just enjoy the silhouette the sundress made, though you know he definitely did enjoy that. You're still suffering the echoes in your knees that the smolder in his eyes had made shake. But he made sure to enjoy the golden bangles that made feminine, sparkling sounds as you slipped into your heels. How they complimented the sunset pinks and oranges of the tropical floral fabric, and made the sanguine flush to your cheeks speak.

He had stopped, especially, at your neck. Traced the shape of that 'Y' as it glittered. And if anybody were to ask, you were certain that his throat had bobbed.

Now, he keeps one steady hand at your back and the other in his pants. He is an impossibly handsome man, in the most literal sense of the word. But night makes him something else. It cuts the lines of his face which had an angle to them that you could only attribute to aging. His eyes were slow and pleased and all over you and the view your push-up bra makes. "Do you want one?" he asks when your eyes linger on a stand selling Hibiscus flowers. The ones the grew well and didn't get too beat up by the elements, which tourists like to pluck off the bush anyway.

"I mean… They're, like, fifteen dollars." That was a good meal's worth, as far as you were concerned. You could go without. "That's crazy. People just pick them anyway."

"Fifteen dollars to look beautiful on you," he says, "is nothing. Do you know how expensive you look right now, sweetheart?" Passing the person running the stand a bill, he takes your chin with his thumb and tucks a yellow one behind your ear. It's huge, flirting with your eyes and brushing against your temples. Approval flashes over his gaze. "There we go. Now you look like you're in Hawaii."

God. Nothing about that should make your head go so dumb.

You make your way down the street doing pretty much the same. You dip in and out of stores, racking up bags in his free hand. He has no complaints to give. It's something chemical to him. Like foreplay, watching your eyes light up and your mouth go shy with every yes. Yes, yes, yes. That's his favorite word.

Of course you drag him into Sephora. The black-and-white storefront pulls you in with gravity amidst the high-end stores and the shops with the shot glasses and tees plastered with Waikiki beach regalia. He lets you browse and drop things into the shopping basket. You giggle when you catch sight of him, there in his fine muslin button down pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out with the strain, classy sunglasses pushing his hair off his forehead, balancing the damage you'd already done in one hand and the carnage that will ensue at checkout here in the other. With a playing smile on his face, he says, "Don't you want to do something you can't do at home?"

"I can't shop at Sephora in Hawaii at home." You take your lip into your teeth to fight a coquettish grin. A toasty lip liner lands in the cart with a plastic sound of the packaging. "I'm like a thousand percent sure they have stuff here that we just don't have at home." The one by your place is half the size, and even less stocked. You'd probably had a hand in that.

"You've gotten spoiled," Yeonjun says, and you think it sounds like lust. "I've made you into a little money monster. You used to be so shy."

You gasp with affront, coloring your words precisely spoiled. "Me? Not even close. You have to beg me to spend money on myself!" You did, in fact, used to be much more shy with him. It took a few dates to be able to look him in the eyes. It's that contrast between you that is so intoxicating. How you get all dressed up in girly outfits and ramble at him, and he has the answers for it all.

He nudges you around and aisle into the next. The cart is slowly filling up. When he had said you'd be leaving with more than you came, he'd meant it. "I do," he rasps. "I've never taken another girl somewhere who loved shopping more. You're a blushing, pretty hole in my wallet."

A throaty imitation of a laugh if all you can muster in response to that. It's not like you didn't know he had other sugar babies before yourself. Had probably taken them to Hawaii, too. The thought spirals out of control before you can stamp it out. Brushing the buttery petals of the flower at your ear, you consider if he's done exactly this, all of it, with another girl, too. He has the means to. And then you get to thinking what he could've done with those girls. Did he tell them how pretty they sounded like he loved so much to tell you? "You're mean," you say, empty banter. "I'm go back in the bowl and find a sugar daddy that doesn't bully me."

The harsh overhead lights cut his features and catch the way his jaw ticks. "Is that it?" His eyes flicker down the the basket you're filling. You don't know if it's pointed or him doing the math. "They couldn't afford you."

The next step you take is a bit more wobbly, a knot pulling tight deep in your belly and making your coordination all loose. He watches watches you flounder. Realistically, you are very aware you are outmatched. It doesn't stop you doubling down. Your low heels click against the tile floors as you shuffle toward a perfume display. Heavy glass with powdery vanillas and sharp, full black pepper and night blooming jasmine, you are a self-fulfilling prophecy and gravitate toward only the luxe stuff. Maybe that's what ruffles you. That he's right. You take a greenish bottle and spritz it into the sensitive insides of your wrists.

"How about this one?" you say, prim, and offer it up to him. "Is it pretty…?"

Taking the offer up, his nose feathers against the skin. You suppress the thrill it gives you. A moment, a beat in the air exists in intimate tranquility, before you what you're about to say. He looks up at you through his brows as the scent profile hits him. Creamy banana leaf and flirty, fruity coconut that embodied everything that you were right now. His eyes drop to your mouth only long enough for you to see that he does it. "Buy it." He surrenders to one more drag of how it melts into the heat of your skin before straightening back up. You only ever remember that you have to look up at him when he does that. "I want you to wear that when we meet."

You've always known Yeonjun was more attuned to scents than other men. It was often the first thing he'd bring up when he entered a space, but it was also something he'd whisper into your ears, voice scraping, while he was behind you. So you know what you're doing when you pout your mouth and say, "Do you think the new sugar daddy will like it, too? Should I wear it for him?"

Whatever you thought he'd do, he doesn't. A scoff, or maybe a brisk, annoyed dismissal, you'd expected. Or maybe even he'd say something. But Yeonjun just pauses. Goes blank, with no playful retort to volley back. All you know is that his dark eyes, which had been so content on an indulgent walk down downtown and a nice dinner after, go severe. Darker with no trick of the light.

He only says, "Right."

That leaves you with nothing to say. You cap the tester bottle and take a real box of the perfume. Because now, you might really need that in your favor if the way he had been drinking it down was anything to go off of. Maybe it'll soften him. Your little makeup and perfume detour ends with a whimper, not a bang, as you stand beside him in line and then watch him pull out that wallet despite it. Two bags sit on the counter waiting for you to reclaim them. Full bags. But when he thumbs his credit card and runs it, a sleek, black, metal thing with weight that speaks for itself, it goes through with a ding. You toy with the frills of your little dress to expel the mortification somewhere, or even anywhere, that isn't a rambunctious ball in your chest. You open your mouth to smooth things over a few times, but decide against it. You can't claim to have not know that it would bother him, but it's too late for that.

A weird thrill shoots down your spine at the view. His shoulders rigid and sharp from the back, holding all the things in his head right now that you can only guess at.

The final act takes place in a shop, with him leaned up against a wall that separates the changing rooms from the rest of the place into its own little dim hallway. Obnoxious lights oppress the clothing racks and shoppers from a high, warehouse-like ceiling. A pop station closes in from a speaker in the corner of your dressing room. The clothes you'd rummaged through racks for hang on a gold hook on the wall, waiting for you to stop holding your breath. Even when you finally make yourself move to drop your clothes on the glossy floor below, you're elsewhere. The way his faced dropped? Not just that, but the fact that it wasn't even anger. You don't know what it was; maybe something new that the two of you had created yourselves, or something unique to the reality of what you were to each other.

Yeonjun's knock against the door pauses you. You can almost see it, how he'd rap the backside of his knuckles, head down. His mannerisms are so vivid and branded into your psyche that you could step out right now and you're certain that it's exactly how you'd find him. "Need help?"

The center of your shoulder blades burn because you'd been contorting yourself for the past few minutes to reach the strings behind you. You take your lip into your teeth and take a look of yourself in the mirror. You look expensive. You look like all the things that Choi Yeonjun touches: taken care of. "Uhhh." A part of you wants to deny him. To play the cards that you hold in this long game. He never fails to remind you how much power you hold over him and this arrangement. Why not test the boundaries? But you know what would be sweeter than that. Wordlessly, you pull the latch with a loudness that all dressing room locks seem to have.

Then there he is. His arms are crossed, the muscles there loose but still something that you have to take your mind off, or else you might start to think how they would feel under your teeth. You rove over the slanted height of him and how he still looks tall, even when he leans his head and shoulder into the frame. His eyes rove over you, too. Not a flicker. Not a quick assessment. No. God, no. Not with him.

The latch snaps shut behind him with a barely-there gesture. Your whole stomach drops to the floor and shatters.

It's a little showy. You'll give him that. And maybe you'll also admit that you grabbed this exact dress for this exact reason. A corner of your lip wants to twitch with satisfaction, but you have a plan to see through, and it starts and ends with him groveling for you. What a sight that would be. Even just imagining it and turning the imagery of it in your head, when he's the reason you can even live this life that you do, makes you a rapt little tease. Boys your age can't do this. They couldn't be him if they tried. You're beginning to think that he was a different species of man completely.

A beat passes, and then he runs the pads of his fingertips along the hem of your dress. It ends so, so dangerously; right about where your ass folds over at the sanguine softness of your thighs. The skittering brush of contact is straight electricity, and it's the littlest touch. His eyes meet yours through the mirror. Dark. Smoldering like pure wood smoke, erupting slow like the mountains on these islands that move slow enough to watch their molten greed come, but know that you can do nothing to stop it. It's no fair how he looks at you. Your knees go just completely useless.

Yeonjun completely disregards even pretending he was going to lace that skimpy back up for you. You swallow cotton. "Is it cute?" you ask, because you have a pretty good idea of what the answer is already.

The breathy gasp when he takes the soft fat of your hips into his hands with a greed that says he'd been thinking about them since you walked into this store and while he waited patiently on the other side of the door for this. Or before even that. He tugs your bottom to the front of his jeans and says, with his voice smooth like the scotch he sips, "Of course it's beautiful, baby. Do you want it?"

"Yes," you choke out around a thick knot of anticipation. Your own face meets you, palms braced on either side of the ornate gold mirror and your reflection giving you a show of how ditzy and pathetic he makes you. "But I don't know if I should." The syllables waver toward the end and belie your coquettish act.

He laughs like a scoff while he pushes the skirt of the dress up the swell of your hips, then past it until he can devour the bend of your arch. He taught you that form. And it looks like he has no notes on your technique, either. The pressure of him testing it makes your head go dumb. "When have I ever told you no?" he rasps. "You have no idea how expensive you are, baby. No idea. Your little shopping trip would've maxed out any other man's card."

There. That's the spot. You pout your mouth at him and catch him eating it up in his reflection. "I'm expensive? Am I too expensive for you, then?"

Of course not. Look at you. Look at where you are. His card is yours and you think that it's near bottomless at this point. You don't even have to ask. Yeonjun's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

Your panties hit the floor in one tug. The walls of the changing room become infinitely smaller as he wraps your hair up in his fist. The ache in your scalp brings a prickle to your eyes. "Is that what you think?" he says, that polished quality wipes completely raw. He tries to sound like he's not losing his mind, but it's there if you look past the lilt. "Do I need to buy you the island? The world?" It sounds like he would. Like he will. Instead of reaching for himself, he tests between your thighs for what he knows he'll find there, because of course you're soaked. You've been soaked since Sephora.

"Uh-huh," you say, because he's flicking your clit in little tests and every time he hits the sensitive underside of it, the nerves there send your heels clattering on the marble and your legs trying to find purchase. And because, what's dignity with a man sixteen years older than you who puts money in your bank account and fucks you in high-end boutique dressing rooms?

He likes that. But he doesn't give you anything real, doesn't reward the behavior you've been prancing around him with. His palm wraps around your waist to press into your belly and steady your scrambling legs like it goes without saying. The way his fingers stretch over the soft, doughy place there, how it eats up the expanse of your waist, makes you swallow hard. "God help the next kid that gets you. What's he gonna do with you? How are you gonna manage pizzeria dates and a one-bedroom apartment when you know what you have? What I've given you?"

You can't answer. His fingers curl into you, and he wastes no time finding the spot that he knows like muscle memory. The delicate anatomy of a woman's sweet spot seems like something that just came with the package of him. He doesn't have to search, and he probably never did. Sparks explode behind your eyelids like the fireworks they had been setting off on the beach in brilliant golds and teals. If he hadn't steadied you with the strength of his palm, you'd probably be crumpling down to the floor right about now.

"Hmm?" You can hear the condescending purr on his mouth, because you don't have the strength to pry your eyes open to see it.

You mewl a sorry imitation for the word, "Yes," and go back to trying to wiggle your ass into the incessant curling of his fingers. The sounds of him fingering you makes your ears and chest flush, each inappropriate, sloppy wet noise proving how easy you are for him. "Right—right there, please." Your head drops as the first word breaks in the air. It's really a sorry excuse for words.

He listens so well. The angle of his two middle fingers, the width of them just enough to make you crazy and the finesse of how he uses them like weapons even worse so, twitches just up. It's as though he feels it himself somewhere inside of you that he's found it, because he finds it and you know you're royally fucked from that moment on. "Good," he says. "That way I know I get to keep you. Because you'll go and you'll try other men,"—his forearm strains with how he forgets the soreness in it to fuck you on his fingers right—"and you'll be right back here. In my bed. On my money. My spoiled little mess."

The thought that maybe, beyond the pleasure he gets out of knowing he could give you anything, buy you anything, dressing you up in him, he likes you this way because it means nothing else would ever fill the spot he carved doesn't occur to you. Currently because your thighs spasm and shake and it takes every working synapse in your brain firing off to digest how he fucks you so good that it's a leash in and of itself. Hopefully you'll be here when he starts going salt and pepper, because what would sex be if not this?

Your choked, scraped whimpers get too loud for him. His palm over your mouth finally has your eyes fluttering open, and the sight that greets you back is potent enough to send the same molasses through your veins as the heel of his palm grinding down on your swollen clit. "Shh, baby." He grinds harder, because he's mean. "So goddamn whiny. What a princess you are; can't take what you were begging for all night. Why act up if you're gonna tell the whole store how I'm being mean to you?"

He gets your answer in a gone, strangled sob against his palm. Your own damp breaths where it seals over your mouth makes the air thinner. Each roll of his palm forward is met with a helpless push of your ass back on him. His wrist is practically pinned between the bulge in his jeans, because of course he's affected even if he'd like to pretend otherwise, and your bottom. It doesn't stop him one bit. The private sounds that his silencing makes is better than any reckless moaning. It's almost dirtier, almost wronger.

"Gonna cum?" he rasps, watching the trashy mess your face makes in the mirror like a god exacting justice. The weeping mascara lines pooling where his hand meets your face and the drooping eyes that want to roll back into your skull, the high pink of your cheeks and how he can watch himself give you this like he give you everything fucking else. You were close, but just the question winds you up tight enough to snap. That face of his goes patronizing with a furrow of his brows. Slick rolls in hot rivulets down the insides of your trembling thighs. "That's right. There we go. You need to grind that pussy on my hand? Grind it. Go ahead and see if I'm gonna give you what you're asking for."

You try to say something. You really do. To tell him that you'll do anything for it, that he's melting your brain like butter, or god, just anything. The backs of your eyes and your throat and the pit of your stomach all prickle and go tight at once. He probably hears something unflattering come out from behind his palm, something strangled and a fie on the decorum that a place like this deserves. That mirror that you'd been depending on to keep you at least somewhat planted where he's had you bent in half goes clattering against the wall behind it because you're grasping at it like it can help you.

He stops. Just completely, unfairly, cruelly stops. His fingers come out of you a mess and you have to pretend they weren't just in you as he straightens up, swipes a thumb through your blackened cheeks, and then he doesn't touch you again. You're left gaping at yourself in the mirror and wondering with a naked dissonance, like when something heavy hits metal and leaves it ringing, what the hell you're supposed to do with the knot in your lower belly now. You almost think to just rub one out after he steps out.

Tugging his collar looser around his throat, he works his jaw and lets you change back. It all feels too tight; the frills and the way you clatter uselessly out when you've finished and the neglected pangs of throbbing, so hard that you can feel the pounding of your heartbeat all the way up in your ears. You avoid eye contact when he pays for the dress up at the register. If the flushed face and the smearing of mascara that would give you away no matter how hard you tried to wipe at your cheeks and jaw didn't give you away, maybe the buzzing in your eyes would. He makes small talk with her and takes the bag and receipt as if he wasn't just knuckle deep in you. It's the antithesis of all things fair. You have to breathe with intention as he leads the way back out onto the streets. The air is thick and salty enough to swim through. It's no help up against clammy, salty skin itself. The only thing that keeps you kinda grounded as you stumble by his shoulder, because even now he's steepled your fingers together, is the sweet scent of the palm leaves touching the sky above you. Otherwise you're swimming through the honking and the weaving between bodies and the pulse of what he did to you.

You want to dig your heels in and demand he wraps his fingers around your throat and fix it. Or make a scene so big he has to. But you just blink dumbly the whole way back to the room, because you are nowhere near as gutsy as that, and half as coherent at the moment.

The door clicks closed behind you again in a pantomime of that stuffy, unreal scene you just left behind. You kick your heels off and wait. Wait to see what he does, to see if he'll pounce on you the way you ran over a generous hundred times on the way here. Yeonjun just steps out of his own shoes, drops the new dress off on a seat, and works his watch off by the night stand. The lamp there, a low warm ambience, lights the angles of him. The way his shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how he tapers out to something thin at the waist that lingers in your mind after you fuck—how the stretch below his navel and the dusting of hair there gives way to the V, and how that gives way to his cock. When you first had seen it, he didn't even laugh, though he could've. You'd just stared like you were torn between running away from it and testing if it was as hard and warm as it looked. No; he held your face as he told you that it was okay, that he wanted you to become so familiar with it that you could feel the exact shape and curve of it in your haziest dreams. You press your thighs together as you struggle with the strap of your heel.

A metallic sound works, and then he sets the silver-faced watch down. Then his eyes finally, for the first time since he stepped into that dressing room, meet yours. Not through any mirrors. The weight of that is entirely different.

"Bend over the bed," he says. "C'mon, baby girl. I've been going insane over this all day."

The hinges of your jaw ache. "Why?" You're stumbling over to do just that, because you're more talk than you are brazen. "So you can just stop again? I have fingers, you know. I don't need you."

And then his belt makes a noise that tells you he intends to see it through this time. Your stomach does three full flips, ass in the air like the obedient lap dog that you'd be for him a hundred times over. Because if he groomed you and petted you and you were his one, favorite girl for it? What else could you possibly need?

"Huh." The belt comes loose in a rasp, somewhere behind you now. He'd circled the bed completely. "I could. We could sit here and do that all night, if we wanted. But where would be the fun in that?" he says, and then he bends over your back and speaks into the shell of your ear, "I have about a thousand other, more creative things I'm gonna do to you, sweetheart. And trust me; I've had a lot of time to think them."

The shudder he tears from you is so visceral, it's like he'd wrapped a hand around your throat. You choke your swallow down dry and say, "Please do it, do whatever you want. I can take it."

He presses a wet, biting kiss into that spot where your pulse meets jawline. And then another that lingers against the back of your shoulder, and then he kisses his way down and straightens back up to make a mess of your outfit all over again. "I know you can," he rasps, his own voice scraped down to something needy that reflects exactly what's burning between your legs right now. You can't tell if it should feel like a good thing, but it just raises a chill on your skin. Because if the same blistering things that's inside you is inside of him right now, then you don't know what you've signed yourself up for.

"You're still on the pill?" he says, and then when you hesitate to answer he takes a handful of ass. "Sweetheart. Please."

You nod. He takes that and forgets the condom in his wallet to let a line of spit fall down over your cunt from the back. As if you weren't wet enough. You don't know if you've ever been so slick in your life, so wiggly that you whine at him to, "Hurrrrry." The glob lands at the top of yout slit and follows gravity to your clit, and he goes quiet to watch it find its place on you. He takes his proud length and strokes it once or twice to feel it twitch, to give himself a pathetic teaser for what was to come.

Then he's pounding into you until stars shoot behind your eyelids, until you're making noises that would embarrass you if they were ever caught on tape. The come from your throat, and they practically stay there, bouncing with each collision of his groin against your ass and the backs of your thighs. You eat straight comforter as he braces one arm beside your hips to cant his hips up, right into the place he had fun with teasing earlier. It's probably pretty obvious to the poor neighbors what the grinding of the headboard against the wall might be, but you're too busy getting your brains fucked away to be a considerate neighbor.

"Mfh!" you tell the bedsheets. The laugh that he pants into your shoulder blades is pure, undiluted dirtiness and heat.

"So mouthy," he croons, though he's no better off than you. Each time you flutter tight around him, his fingers dig deeper divots into your hip. "And so pretty when you're split on my cock and can't talk. Isn't that right, baby?" He bends completely over your back, and you're forced to remember through the scattered thoughts of how he looked behind you in that mirror. His body ate yours up. It didn't matter if you were taller, if you were any other way. He'd make you look tiny anyway, just like how his fingers stretch over the small of your back and how he handles you with it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna hear that mouth go."

Breathing is a thing of the past. You shove your face to one side so at least you aren't suffocating in the sheets, face such a mess that you can feel it more than the twist of your brows and the pout on your mouth. Sweat beads at your temples and hair sticks there over your flaming cheeks. "Choke me, choke me," you say. It's the dumbified words of somebody who has about five words in their current arsenal and was using all their brain power for each. You choke and sob and bite whines into the air and meet every single one of his thrusts.

He's not gonna let you ask twice. The precision of his fingers is food for your brain, thinning your windpipe just enough to twist every nudge of his tip to your cervix into something more potent and overwhelming. Your nails bite into his wrist at your neck, skull digging back into his shoulder and hips being ground into the edge of the mattress every time he strokes with mindless, carnal rhythm. "Choke you?" he almost laughs, like his hand wasn't around your throat right now. "You're full of surprises, you know that? How's that for that sweet brain, baby girl? Huh?"

Your face twists up. "Uh—uh-huh!" You can't breathe, can't think, in the best way. Lips wobbling, you pant, "I like it!"

That has his hips coming down on you in a different way. He falls over your back and drags in the scent at your neck like he's huffing something stronger than the sweet scent of sex on your skin. But it does something electric to him. His abs tighten against your spine, grinding his cock into you like he could be any deeper than this. It feels like he's up in your stomach, you brain, dressing that up just like he does to the rest of you. "Fuck." His voice crumbles into tatters. "You smell so fucking good. Like candy." He kisses at the spot that you, even in this state, recall with a jerk to be where you had sprayed that perfume. It had melted into the warm pulse there, faded down into the base notes. The kiss isn't enough. He presses his tall nose right into it and grabs at you so hard that it aches. "I'm not gonna last long, baby. God, you're getting more of this stuff. I'll buy you more before we—" His wet forehead falls into the soft spot between your shoulders and where your nape begins, every rolling thrust like he's staving off an orgasm coming just from the olfactory sweetness of you.

You've long since raked red-hot lines down his taut forearm, but a particular tightening of his fingers at your throat and a wet slide that hits just the right spot without you having to ask sends you over like a house of cards. The arch in the very angle of your back bows back against him. The suite falls away, all of Hawaii and your agreement follows, until you're just a girl under a man who knows exactly how to play you. "I'm cumming!" you say, all but stumbling over the warning. "Help!"

You don't know what the hell you're saying, and he's off the deep end too. He throws you up the bed and digs his knees in to gain purchase and something in that scent he caught, in the thoughts that had been festering in his head all night, comes alive. He rails you right into the sheets and takes what he needs as you claw at the pillows and sheets through yours. Because with him, you're gonna cum first if he has to grit his teeth and pull out just to make sure he doesn't first.

"That's it," he growls. "That's my spoiled girl." Then his own hips stop and each stutter of them as he fucks it into you, each pant and breath into your shoulders and kiss to the back of your head, tells you that he's followed you down. As his weight smothers you into the pillows, grounding you and suffocating you until you can come down and breathe again, he makes your hair into a loose ponytail to reach the soft parts of your neck that the tangle of it hid.

His heartbeat at your back reverberates into your chest. Speaking into your face as he takes the softness of your cheeks and watches them squish under his fingers, he says, "How's that for leaving you wanting?" There's a lazy, pleased light in his eyes. What else could a man need, more than a pretty girl glowing with post-orgasmic bliss under him, in a bed he put her in, in a frilly, rumpled dress that only he could afford? Nothing. He was living the life that other men loathed him for. He nips the turn of your shoulder and says, "You were put on this Earth to test old bastards like me, huh?"

You can hardly give him an enthusiastic smile. Probably.

ash⦂ #needthat like i finished this in a haze at 4am before a shift so if that tells you anything about how i was feeling…

Sweat clung to your skin under the thin tank top and leggings you always wore for choreography sessions, but it wasn’t the exertion making your pulse race. It was the way riki, your secret boyfriend of six months had been staring at you the entire three hour rehearsal.

Not just staring burning. You’d felt it every time you positioned Jake’s hands on your waist for the partner section. Every time Jake’s chest brushed your back during the lift. Every time Riki’s sharp jaw tightened and his dark eyes narrowed from across the room while he danced with his own assigned partner.

He was professional on the surface sharp lines, flawless timing but you knew him better than anyone. That quiet, possessive storm was building behind every controlled breath.

Now the room was empty. Mirrors on every wall reflected the low emergency lights, turning the space into a glowing cage of glass and hardwood. The door locked with a soft snick as Riki turned the key he’d swiped from the staff table.

You didn’t even have time to turn around fully.

His tall frame was suddenly behind you, one hand slamming flat against the mirror in front of your face, the other snaking around your waist and yanking you back against his chest hard.

“You think that was cute?” His voice was low, rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Letting Jake touch you like that? Hands all over what’s mine?”

“Riki—” you started, but the sound died when his fingers dug into your hip, grinding you back against the very obvious bulge straining his sweatpants.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t say his name right now not when I just watched him hold you the way only I’m allowed to.”

His free hand slid up, cupping your jaw and forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at the two of you in the mirror. Your flushed cheeks, his sharp eyes dark with jealousy and hunger.

He was taller, broader from all the comeback training, and right now he looked every bit the possessive idol who’d been forced to share his choreographer girlfriend with another member for three straight hours.

“You’re the choreographer,” he muttered, teeth grazing your neck, “but you’re my girl, mine and I had to stand there pretending it didn’t kill me every time his fingers slipped under your shirt.”

He shoved your tank top up roughly, exposing your sports bra. One tug and that was gone too, your breasts spilling free. His large hand covered one immediately, pinching the nipple hard enough to make you gasp.

The mirror showed everything your back arching, his lips latching onto the side of your throat, sucking a mark you’d have to hide tomorrow.“Riki someone could come back—”

“No one’s coming back,” he cut you off, voice dripping with dark promise. “And even if they did, I don’t care anymore let them see who you really belong to.”

He spun you around fast, pressing your front against the cool mirror. Your palms slapped against the glass as he yanked your leggings and panties down in one rough motion, leaving them bunched around your knees. The cold air hit your soaked pussy and you whimpered.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered, kicking your feet apart. In the reflection you saw him shove his own sweats down just enough to free his cock thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. “Look how wet you are for me after I watched you dance with him.”

Two long fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the slick mess before he pushed them inside you without warning. You moaned, forehead dropping against the mirror.

“Already dripping,” he snarled, scissoring his fingers cruelly. “Was it the dancing or knowing I was watching you with Jake that got you this soaked?”

“Riki—fuck—”

“Answer me.” He curled his fingers against that spot that made your knees buckle. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you gasped. “Only yours.”

“That’s right.” He pulled his fingers out, replacing them instantly with the blunt head of his cock. One brutal thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open in one go. The mirror fogged from your broken cry.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for hours deep, punishing strokes that made your breasts bounce against the glass and your breath stutter.

One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so you had to watch every second the way his hips snapped against your ass, the way his abs flexed with every thrust, the way his face was twisted in raw jealousy and lust.

“Mine,” he growled against your ear with every snap of his hips. “Not Jake’s not anyone’s mine to fuck mine to ruin.”

You could barely hold yourself up, legs shaking, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you against him, pounding harder. The wet sound of skin on skin echoed obscenely in the empty practice room.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he demanded, biting down on your shoulder. “Tell me you’ll never let another member touch you like that again.”

“I’m sorry—ah—fuck, Riki—I’m yours—”

“Louder.” His hand slid down to rub tight circles over your clit, relentless. “Say it while you come on my cock.”

The orgasm hit you like a freight train, vision whiting out as you clenched around him, crying his name loud enough that anyone still in the building might hear. He didn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release with short, brutal thrusts.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groaned, voice breaking. “Gonna leave my cum dripping down your thighs so every time you look in this mirror tomorrow you remember who fucked you right here.”

With a final deep thrust he came hard, hips stuttering, hot pulses flooding you as he buried his face in your neck. For a long moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the mirror under your palms.

He stayed inside you, softening slowly, arms locked around your waist like he still couldn’t let go.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your skin, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “Next comeback choreography, you pair me with you or I swear I’ll drag you into this room every single night until you remember.”

You smiled shakily at his reflection, still trembling.“Jealousy looks good on you, Riki.”He smirked, dark eyes meeting yours in the glass as he slowly pulled out, cum already starting to slip down your thigh.

Your knees are bent and spread wide, his large hands already holding your inner thighs open even though you’re trembling.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and honey smooth as he kisses the inside of your knee. “You’re already doing so good just letting me see you like this.”

Your face is burning. You’ve come close before teetering on that strange, overwhelming edge but never tipped over. Tonight he decided that changes.

Heeseung settles between your legs, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips. The sight of his broad shoulders alone makes your stomach clench. He notices, smirks softly, then leans in and presses the slowest, wettest open-mouth kiss right over your clit.

You jolt. “Easy,” he soothes immediately, big palm smoothing up your belly to rest between your breasts. “Breathe with me, in out good girl.”

His middle and ring finger slide through your folds slow, deliberate coating themselves before he sinks them inside you to the second knuckle. You’re soaked already; the sound is obscene.

“Listen to how wet you are for me,” he whispers against your thigh. “That’s it let me hear it.”Two long fingers curl upward, searching, stroking that soft, ridged patch inside you with practiced patience. When your breath hitches harder he knows he’s found it.

“There she is,” he praises, voice thick with affection even as his fingers start a slow, firm come hither motion. “That’s my girl’s sweet spot, yeah?”You nod frantically, thighs shaking.

He doesn’t speed up yet. Instead he keeps that steady, deep curl press, drag, press, drag while his thumb starts lazy circles over your clit. The dual sensation makes your hips twitch upward involuntarily.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts gently, free hand pressing your pelvis down. “Stay right here for me. Let it build slow. You’re gonna feel like you need to pee soon, okay? That’s normal that’s exactly what we want.”Your eyes widen, a tiny embarrassed sound slipping out.

Heeseung’s expression softens even more. “Hey,” he coos, leaning up so he can kiss you properly slow, deep, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to melt you from the inside. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re perfect just trust me and let go when it hits, alright?”

You nod against his mouth, dizzy.

He drops back down, adds a third finger slow stretch that makes you whine and picks up the pace just enough. The wet, rhythmic sound of his fingers fucking into you fills the room. Every time he bottoms out he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, giving you constant pressure.

Your breathing turns ragged. That full, urgent feeling starts blooming low in your pelvis different from a regular orgasm, heavier, almost scary. “Hee—heeseung—” your voice cracks, hands scrabbling at his wrist.

“I know, baby. I know.” His tone stays so fucking gentle even as his fingers slam harder, curling ruthlessly against that spot on every stroke now. “You’re doing so good. So close. Look at you dripping down my wrist.”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a rough whisper against your ear.“Let it go soak me fucking drench my hand, pretty girl—I want it i want to feel you gush all over me.”The words hit like a spark.

Your whole body locks up. The pressure crests sharp, blinding and then you’re shattering.

A broken cry tears from your throat as you come, and it’s not just clenching around his fingers. A hot, wet rush pulses out of you, splashing against his palm, his forearm, the sheets. You’re squirting actually squirting and Heeseung groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“That’s it fuck yes, baby there’s my good girl,” he growls, fingers still working you through it, drawing out every shuddering wave until you’re gasping, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his wrist.

He finally slows, eases his fingers out with a wet sound, and brings them to his mouth sucking them clean while holding eye contact.You’re shaking chest heaving. A dazed, embarrassed, euphoric mess.

Heeseung crawls up your body, caging you gently, kissing away the tears that slipped down your temples without you realizing.“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your cheek. “You did amazing I’m so proud of my baby”

His lips find yours again slower this time, sweeter while one hand strokes your hair.

“Want me to do it again?” he asks softly, a teasing lilt creeping back in as his hardening length presses against your soaked thigh. “Or should I just fuck you nice and deep while you’re still all sensitive and drippy for me?”

You whimper into his mouth.He smiles against your lips.

Heeseung’s mouth is still curved in that soft, dangerous smile as he kisses you again deeper this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your body is still buzzing, thighs slick and trembling, core fluttering with aftershocks. He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you let go like that,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, edged with hunger. “Think you can take me now, baby? All sensitive and soaked?”Your nod is immediate, needy. Words feel too far away.

He chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your throat as he nips the skin there. “That’s my girl.”

He shifts, shoving his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. You feel the heavy, hot length of him drag along your inner thigh thick, already leaking at the tip. Your breath catches again.Heeseung notices he always notices.

“Eyes on me,” he says gently, even as he notches himself at your entrance, rubbing the swollen head through your folds. “Wanna see your face when I slide in.”You lock eyes with him. His are dark, pupils blown, but the sweetness is still there wrapped around something feral.

He pushes in slow.The stretch is intense after you’ve already come so hard your walls still pulsing, hypersensitive. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. He freezes halfway, jaw tight, giving you time.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re doing so good. Taking me so well already.”A shaky exhale leaves you. He waits until your hips relax, until you’re the one rocking up, silently asking for more.

That’s when he sinks the rest of the way in one smooth, deep thrust.

Your back arches off the bed with a broken moan. He’s so thick, so deep, pressing right against every overstimulated nerve ending. You feel full in a way that makes your toes curl.

“Fuck—” he groans against your neck, hips stuttering once he bottoms out. “So tight still clenching around me like that. You feel what you did to yourself? So wet I could drown in you.”

He starts moving slow at first, long dragging strokes that let you feel every inch pulling out, every inch pushing back in. The wet sound of it is filthy, your arousal coating him, dripping down to where you’re joined.

You whimper every time he bottoms out, the head of his cock nudging that same swollen spot his fingers had wrecked earlier.Heeseung notices that too.

“Oh?” he breathes, voice teasing even as his hips snap a little harder. “Right there again, huh?”You can only nod, words gone.

He hooks one of your legs over his elbow, opening you wider, changing the angle so he hits even deeper. The new position makes you see stars.

“There we go,” he praises, pace picking up still controlled, but rougher now. The bed creaks under the force. “Look at you taking it so well. My perfect girl letting me fuck you right after you squirted all over my hand.”

Your hands scrabble at his back, trying to pull him closer, deeper. He obliges leans down until your chests are pressed together, skin slick with sweat.

“Hold on to me,” he murmurs, voice suddenly softer again. Then he starts really moving hard, deliberate thrusts that make your whole body jolt with every stroke.

You’re loud can’t help it. Broken moans, gasps, his name over and over.Heeseung’s breathing is ragged against your ear. “You gonna come again for me? Gonna soak my cock this time too?”

The thought alone makes you tighten around him.He growls actually growls and slams in harder, hips snapping with purpose now. The headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, voice wrecked. “Let me feel it squeeze me so fucking tight yeah, just like that—fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it—”

Your second orgasm hits different sharper, more overwhelming because he’s inside you, stretching you open while that same spot gets battered relentlessly. You cry out, body locking up as another hot rush spills out around him, coating his cock, his pelvis, the sheets beneath you.

Heeseung swears under his breath, thrusts turning erratic. “Fuck—baby—gonna—” His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes hard, pulsing deep inside you, filling you up while your walls keep fluttering around him.

For long seconds neither of you moves just panting, clinging, trembling together.Then he softens again. Heeseung presses slow, gentle kisses along your jaw, your temple, the corner of your mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers, still buried inside, careful not to pull out yet. “Did so fucking good for me.”You manage a tiny, blissed out nod, arms looping around his neck.He smiles against your skin sweet, proud, a little smug.

“Think we made a mess,” he teases softly, finally easing out with a wet sound that makes you both shiver. He glances down at the soaked sheets, then back at you with pure adoration. “Worth it.”

He gathers you close, tucking your face into his neck, one hand stroking down your spine in long, soothing lines.

“Rest for a minute,” he murmurs, kissing your hair. “Then I’m running us a bath and maybe only if you want we can see how many more times I can make you do that tonight.”

For the first year and a half, he really was content. You were like roommates who shared a last name and a common goal. He worked at his family firm and you managed the house and the social calendar.

Then, Sunghoon began working from his home office more frequently and the distance he had carefully maintained started to collapse. It was like suddenly, you weren't just a figure at the other end of the dining table. You were now a constant and vibrant presence in his periphery. He'd be mid call with clients in another country and see you through the glass doors, sitting in the sun drenched morning room with a cup of tea, looking so serene it made his own chest ache with a sudden envy for your peace.

He’d see you with the baby, your hair pulled back as you laugh at something the child did, it was a side of you he never saw under the harsh lights of a ballroom. He’d see you headed to the home gym in those form fitting yoga sets that highlighted exactly how much he had been missing by staying at the office until midnight.

The professionalism he prided himself on was starting to fray.

One afternoon, you tapped on his office door dressed to go out with an elegant tailored coat draped over your shoulders, looking every bit the sophisticated wife of a high ranking man.

"Sunghoon? I'm headed out to Mrs Yang’s ladies brunch we discussed. I've made sure the nurse has everything for the evening," you said softly, standing in the doorway. "I'll likely be back after you've had dinner."

He looked up from his monitors, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. For a split second, the urge to tell you not to go and to stay here, the urge to tell you to sit in the chair opposite him and to just be was so overwhelming he almost spoke it. He wanted to ask you what you did when you weren't being his wife, he wanted to know what you thought about when you were alone in this massive house.

"I see," he managed with a low voice. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar as if it were suddenly too tight. "Enjoy yourself. Don't feel rushed."

"Thank you, Sunghoon," you replied with that same cordial smile you'd given him for a year and a half.

As you turned to leave, the scent of your perfume lingered in the room, and Sunghoon felt a wave of genuine panic. He was falling in love with his own wife—a woman he had treated like a business partner for over six hundred days, yet he didn't know how to bridge the gap without breaking the perfect arrangement you had built together. He was a man who handled billions of dollars with ease and yet he found himself completely paralyzed by the idea of asking you to stay for dinner just because he liked the way you breathed.

Days later, he walked out of his office, originally intending to simply check on the baby in the nursery, but the sight of the hallway bathroom your preferred door ajar and the sound of your voice drifting from inside stopped him in his tracks. He stood in the hallway, the thick carpet muffling his presence as he heard the unmistakable splashing of water and the clear sound of a voice on speakerphone.

"I still can't wrap my head around it, girl. I’ll tell you that for free," your friend's voice echoed through the bathroom. "You’re like the blueprint of the perfect society wife...and you're a married virgin…with a kid. How does it feel, honestly?"

Sunghoon swore his heart skipped a few beats, his hand grabbing the wall for balance. A virgin? The logic of his world shifted until he felt dizzy. He had assumed, given your poise and the ease with which you navigated adulthood, that your past was just as lived in as his own.

He heard you giggle and it was a light sound he rarely heard in his presence. "You can't miss something you've never had," you replied and he could almost picture the shrug of your shoulders. Then, your voice dropped into a conspiratorial, slightly dirty tone that sent lightening straight to his gut. "Besides, it's not like I'm exactly suffering. I just rub my clit a little when I'm feeling particularly aroused and that usually does it for me. It's efficient."

The mental image of you alone in your bed a few doors from his, touching yourself because of a need he hadn't even considered you had, was almost too much to process. He felt a sudden, sharp spike of arousal but he also wanted to throw up.

"I just don't know how you two do it," your friend laughed. "Living in that house together, looking like that."

"It's easy, really," you said and the nonchalance in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. "I'm pretty sure Sunghoon has a mistress. Some girl in a penthouse that he pays for to keep him satisfied. It makes sense, really. He's a man with needs and he's certainly not getting it here."

You sounded...relieved, you sounded like the idea of him being with someone else was somehow a weight off your shoulders, like it was a logical solution to a problem you didn't want to solve.

He felt a surge of rage even down to his fingertips, he didn't have a mistress. What he did have was a mountain of work and a growing obsession with the woman currently dismissing him as some predictable cliché. The fact that you thought so little of his character or perhaps so little of your own appeal, made him want to barge into the room and show you exactly how satisfied he wasn't.

But he stood there instead, letting his knuckles turn white as he fought the urge to kick the door open and confront you. He wanted to tell you that there was no penthouse, no other girl and that the only person he wanted to satisfy him was the one currently applying toner and joking about her virginity. He stayed rooted to the spot cause he couldn’t bring himself to move an inch, the cordial roommate facade had finally shattered beyond repair. He wasn't just a husband in name anymore, he was now a man who had been challenged and he was finally ready to break the rules of your arrangement.

"I mean, look at him," you continued, your voice taking on a wistful quality that Sunghoon had never been privy to. "I'm not blind. I've definitely fantasized about it. He's incredibly attractive and if he ever actually tried...well, I wouldn't exactly say no. But that's never going to happen, so whatever. It's better this way."

"I don't know," your friend hummed in a more suggestive tone. "With those shoulders and the way he carries himself? He looks like he could probably fuck you mid air without breaking a sweat. I've seen him lift your baby's heavy ass stroller like it was a feather."

You let out a genuine laugh that echoed through the bathroom. "Stop! You're going to make it weird the next time I have to see him at dinner."

The sound of your footsteps approaching the door snapped him out of his trance, the adrenaline spike was instantaneous, it made him bolt down the hallway with his heart hammering against his ribs in a way that no board meeting had ever achieved. He stopped a few doors down, quickly smoothing his shirt and taking a deep breath just as you stepped out into the corridor in a silk robe.

He turned back toward you, timing it perfectly so it looked like he was just making his way from the nursery toward the stairs. You nearly bumped into him, your eyes widening in mild surprise. You looked fresh, your skin glowing from your skincare routine and for the first time, Sunghoon didn't bother to stop his eyes from dropping to your lips.

"Oh! Hello, Sunghoon," you said and he couldn't help but notice how your voice returned to that perfectly modulated tone. There wasn't a hint of the dirty girl he'd just heard on the phone.

"I didn't realize you were still upstairs. Have you had lunch yet? I can have the kitchen prepare something for you if you're planning on staying in the office for the afternoon."

You looked at him with such sweet, domestic concern, asking if he'd eaten as if you hadn't just spent the last ten minutes psychoanalyzing his sex life and debating his physical strength with your little friend.

He stared at you, eyes dark and searching. He knew the united front was still there but now he also knew what was hiding behind it. He knew you wanted him, he knew you were just waiting for him to move. And most importantly, he knew you were his—completely untouched and entirely misinformed about where he spent his nights.

"I haven't," he finally said before he took a half step closer, encroaching on your personal space just enough to see your smile shake. "Perhaps you'll join me? I think it's time we had a conversation that isn't about some stupid society event."

"Oh. Uh—What do you mean, Sunghoon?"

"What do I mean?" he repeated, the discipline that had defined his entire life for nearly thirty years finally snapping. He had never been good at keeping secrets—his integrity was too rigid and his conscience too loud. The words didn't just tumble out, they literally erupted. "I mean I don't have a mistress, Y/n. I haven't even looked at another woman, let alone touched one, since the day our families sat us down in that boardroom to discuss this arrangement."

You stood frozen, the blood draining from your face as the weight of his words hit you. The realization that he had been standing right there and had heard every shameful, intimate detail of your phone call made your ears ring.

"The idea of a woman in a penthouse somewhere is...it's preposterous. I've spent every night in this house, working myself to exhaustion just so I wouldn't have to face the fact that I'm sharing a roof with a woman I'm fucking terrified to touch."

"Sunghoon, I—" You let out a hysterical burst of laughter, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. It was clearly a nervous reflex, an attempt to bridge the sudden, terrifying gap of vulnerability between you. "It was a joke! It was just…just girl talk! I was just...my friend was being silly and I was just playing along. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply—"

"I don't care about your apology," he interrupted, his voice thick with a desperate honesty. He stepped further into your space, forcing you to look up at him. "I heard it all. I heard that you think I'm off with some mistress while I'm actually in my office, three doors down from you, trying to figure out how to be half a decent husband to a woman I do not want to lose."

He paced a small circle, his hand raking through his perfectly styled hair until it was a mess. "I failed you. I've lived in this house for so long thinking I was being good man and instead, I've left my wife wondering if she's enough. I didn't know you were a virgin. I didn't know you were waiting."

He stopped and looked at you, his eyes now burning with a mix of shame and agonizing heat. "You want to talk about efficiency? You want to talk about rubbing your clit to get it over with?" He let out a cold self deprecating sound. "I spent in the shower this morning jerking off like a goddamn teenager because I saw you in that green yoga set and I couldn't breathe. I do it every single day, sometimes twice a day. I do it because I'm so goddamn in love with you that I don't know how to function and I thought—I thought if I touched you, I'd break the only peace you had in this marriage."

"You drive me fucking insane, Y/n."

The silence that followed was charged with the sudden collapse of two years months of pretension. Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your whole body.

"And as for your friend's little comment..." his gaze dropped in a way that made your knees go weak. He closed the remaining distance, his large hands coming up to grip your waist, his thumbs hooking into the belt of your robe. "Yes. I am more than strong enough to fuck you mid air. I am strong enough to do anything you want, for as long as you want it. Just...please. Don't think so lowly of me. Don't think I'd ever seek out a substitute for the only woman I've ever truly wanted."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips and now there was only him, trembling with two years worth of suppressed worship, waiting for you to tell him that the fantasies weren't just talk.

You didn't have the words to bridge the gap he'd just torn open, so you did the only thing that felt right, standing up on your tiptoes and looping your arms around his neck to press your lips to his.

It was a clumsy, hesitant kiss, the only other time you'd felt his mouth on yours was that brief peck at the altar when you got married. You didn't know how to move your lips against his or where to put your tongue but the moment you made contact, he let out a deep groan like a man who had been starving and was finally offered a feast.

He didn't wait, sliding his large hands from your waist to your thighs and hiking you up, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and you felt the sheer, solid strength your friend had just joked about. He carried you blindly toward your suite, his mouth never leaving yours, tongue growing hungrier and more authoritative as he realized you were leaning into him.

You shrugged the silk robe off your shoulders, letting it pool on the tile like discarded skin. When your back finally hit the mattress, the sheets were cool compared to the heat radiating of Sunghoon’s body as he loomed over you. He had his weight propped on his forearms with his whole body trembling.

He looked down at you with untamed lust. He reached out with his thumb to trace the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen and red from his kiss.

"I have wanted this every single second since I met you," he confessed in a trembling voice, he was shaking with the effort of holding himself back. He was a man of logic and even now, at the edge of his control, he still needed to be sure. "I am going to be as gentle or as rough as you want but I need you to understand...once I start, I'm not going to want to stop. If you have any doubts—if you want me to wait another year, another hour—you have to say it right now."

He lowered himself just an inch, his nose brushing against yours, the scent of his expensive cologne and masculine heat overwhelming your senses.

"Tell me," he commanded softly, his hand shifting down to rest flat against your stomach, right above the lace of your panties. "Do you want your husband, Y/n? Because I am yours. Every part of me."

He took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, and began a slow tour of his body. He guided your palm over the hard line of his jaw, down the column of his throat where his pulse was thrashing and across the broad expanse of his chest. "Look at me," he pleaded desperately. "Every inch of this, every thought in my head...belongs to you. I've been holding it all for you."

He slid your hand further down, past the ridges of his stomach, until your palm was pressed firmly against the straining length of his cock trapped behind his trousers. You gasped cause the size and heat of him stole the air from your lungs but as you instinctively curled your fingers around him, Sunghoon shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured with a hungry smirk on his lips. "I haven’t even started worshipping you yet. I just want to taste you first."

He moved so gracefully, sliding down the length of your body until he was laid between your knees and with a decisive tug, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs.

The sudden rush of cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, you’d spent so long hiding yourself, playing the role of the composed and dutiful wife, that the reality of Sunghoon staring directly at your most intimate parts made you feel shameful. You immediately tried to clamp your thighs shut with a whimper of shyness escaping you.

"No," Sunghoon rumbled, his large hands clamping onto your knees and forcing them wide. "Don't hide from me. I've spent all this time imagining exactly what you looked like right here."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs, making the fine hairs on your skin stand up. He didn’t just look, though, he reached out and used his thumbs to gently spread your pussy lips apart. The sight of your center so slick and swollen made his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black. He watched in a trance as a fresh wave of wetness gushed out, a clear testament to how much his words had affected you.

"Look how much you want me," he whispered with triumph, not waiting one more minute before swiping his tongue upward in a long stroke that gathered every drop of your sweetness. The sensation was so intense and so direct that your hips jerked off the bed in a violent twitch. You let out a high pitched cry, immediately tangling your fingers in his dark hair as he settled in, his tongue moving with devastating pressure that told you he wasn't going anywhere until he'd tasted every bit of the pleasure he'd been denied.

Sunghoon was entirely too methodical, he was treating your body with the same terrifyingly focused certainty he brought to everything else in his life. He buried his face between your thighs, his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue focused on your leaking hole, he ate you out with a hunger that was almost feral, his tongue flat and firm as it licked long strokes from your opening all the way to your clit.

The sounds filling the room were the wet slapping of his mouth against you mixed with the broken whines you were letting out. He already had you babbling nonsense, your hands gripping his shoulders, then his hair, then the sheets, your head thrashing as he drank you in. You were so sensitive that every flick of his tongue felt like a bolt of electricity, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably and he didn’t seem to care that the mixture of his saliva and your overflowing wetness was now drooling down his chin to his skin, he was being so messy in a way you’d never expected.

He paused for a split second to look up at you through his dark lashes with his face glistening with your slickness. "You're so tight my tongue can’t even go in a little," he rasped. "Can I put a finger in? Just one?"

"Yes—yes, please, Sunghoon," you wailed, suddenly desperate for any kind of fullness.

He still didn't rush it, he took his long middle finger and slowly probed at your entrance with it. You were so wet that he slid in with a soft squelch, the intrusion feeling entirely too massive against your unused walls. You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you felt him stretching you from the inside, he pushed deeper until his knuckles brushed against your folds.

Then, he hooked his finger upward and moment he found that one textured spot on your anterior wall, your entire body stiffened. You bucked against his hand, your hips lifting off the mattress in a frantic search for more pressure. "Mm. It’s there, right?" You couldn’t stop the way you pulsed around his single finger. "Fuck, you’re so responsive."

He started a come hither motion with his finger, while simultaneously lowering his mouth back down to your clit. He was multi tasking with a lethal expertise—his finger hitting that internal spot with every curl while his lips created a vacuum around your sensitive nub.

The combination was too much and before you could help it, you were screaming into the quiet of the mansion, your toes curling as you felt the first tidal wave of an orgasm building in your gut. He sucked harder, his tongue swirling in circles around your clit while his finger stayed hammering and massaging into you until you were nothing but a shaking mess of pleasure. You felt your walls start to contract, milking his finger as you experienced a climax so intense you actually saw spots, your body completely surrendered to the man who had spent your entire marriage so far pretending he didn't want to ruin you just like this.

"Sunghoon, please—don't stop, don't stop!" You were nearly hyperventilating, your voice cracking as you begged him to keep up the relentless pace. The internal pressure from his finger and the tension of his mouth were weaving together into a rush so fervent it was almost painful. "I've never...I've never felt like this, I'm going to—"

You were choking out the words, shocked by how quickly your body had reached its limit. After over two years of nothing but your own careful touch, Sunghoon's extreme competence was hitting you like a freight train. You were on the precipice with your muscles vibrating from the exertion of holding on, when suddenly, a new and terrifying sensation washed over you.

It felt like a build up in your bladder, it was a sudden and very heavy fullness that made you panic. "Sunghoon, wait! Stop, stop!" you gasped, your hands flying to his head to try and pull him away. "I think...I think I'm going to pee. Oh my god, Sunghoon, let go!"

You were absolutely mortified, the woman who prided herself on her perfect composure was about to humiliate herself in front of the man who had just confessed his love for her. You tried to clamp your legs shut, to scramble away from him on the sheets but Sunghoon was an immovable force.

He didn't budge. Instead, he shifted his grip and his large hands locked onto your thighs like iron shackles, pinning you wide open for him. He looked up at you with his face wet and a knowing smirk on his lips. "Don't hold back, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me."

He didn't give you a choice, diving back down and tracing his tongue over your clit with a more violent speed while his finger hooked deep and hard into that spongy spot.

The dam snapped and you let out a strangled sob as you completely lost control of your body. You weren’t just cumming like you did alone in your bed, your pussy erupted like a geyser. A hot gush of fluid sprayed out of you, drenching his face, his lips and even the hands that were holding you open. It felt amazing, like a release so profound it felt like every nerve in your body was being cleansed but the moment the initial wave subsides, horror quickly took over.

You collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing and shaking from how hard he had just made you cum and pure embarrassment, your face buried in your hands. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, the humiliation ruining the afterglow. "I'm so sorry, Sunghoon, I didn't mean to...I ruined it."

Sunghoon didn't look upset or angry, he gently sat back on his heels, wiping a stray drop of your sweetness from his cheek with his thumb before licking it off with a swipe of his tongue. He looked like a feral thing that had just been given exactly what it wanted.

"It’s okay, my love," he cooed, his eyes burning with such a beautiful passion. He crawled back up the bed, pressing over you once more, his scent now unmistakably mixed with yours. "That was you cumming for your husband. And if you think I'm disgusted, you clearly haven't been paying attention to a word I said. I want every single drop of you."

Sunghoon's focus softened, though the heat behind his eyes didn’t faded. He drew closer and you could see his face still shimmering with the evidence of your release. "Do you want to taste yourself?" he whispered against your lips.

You could only nod, your voice lost to the haze of the afterglow and he crashed his mouth against yours, a possessive kiss that tasted of salt and you. It was a physical claim, a bridge between your bodies that shattered the last of your shyness. When he pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, he sounded breathless. "I love you. God, I love you so much. I've been dying in this house for twenty six months."

"I—I love you too, Sunghoon."

He kissed you again, a little more tenderly this time but the friction of his body against yours was a reminder of the unfinished business straining against his clothes.

Boldness, fueled by the euphoria of your climax took over and your hands trembled the moment you reached down, your fingers reaching blindly to the button of his linen pants. You pried it open and when the fabric gave way, you slid your hand beneath the waistband to cup him over his boxers.

Sunghoon let out a hoarse groan, his head snapping back. He suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away with a look of excruciating containment. "Don't," he forced out, his jaw ticking. "Don't start something you can't finish, my love. If you…If you touch me like that, I'm not going to be able to be gentle."

You looked up at him with your pupils blown wide. "Please fuck me," you whispered, the words feeling heavy and electric on your tongue. "I want my husband to fuck me. Now."

Sunghoon froze a little, a startled laugh breaking from his chest. "I had no idea my little wife was so vulgar," he jested, his eyes dancing with a delighted light. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He moved with a heightened energy, kicking off his pants and discarding his shirt in a matter of seconds. You sat up, your hands reaching for the hem of your silk slip that had been pushed up and pulled it over your head.

As the fabric fell away, leaving you completely bare in the soft light of the bedroom, Sunghoon stopped. He looked at your chest, his stare tracing the swell of your breasts.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word sounding like a raw exhaled prayer. He looked like a man seeing a miracle for the first time. "I truly don’t know how I lasted this long. I must be stronger than I thought. You really are perfect...my beautiful wife."

He crawled back over you, finally pressing the weight of his bare chest into yours. The immense, solid mass of him was consuming in the best way possible. He pinned your wrists above your head, feeling his cock heavy and hot against your thigh. "I really hope I can live up to your fantasies."

Sunghoon's breath was dragging in a way that betrayed his own desperation as soon as he settled between your thighs. He didn't just shove himself in—he was carefully obsessive, even now. He took the blunt head of his weeping cock and dragged it upward, tracing the line of your slit until he was circling your clit with the hardened tip of his length.

He was massive and now that he was pressed against your entrance, you realized he was easily twice as thick as the finger that had just had you screaming, if not thrice. The reality of what was about to happen made your breath come in short bursts and your thighs trembled against his hips.

"You're shaking," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of concern and uncontrollable hunger. He stopped the teasing friction, resting his weight on his forearms as he looked down at you. "Look at me. It...it might hurt a little at first. I'm trying to be careful but you're so damn small."

"I know," you whimpered, nodding as you reached up to grip his biceps. "I know, just...please."

He nodded once, his jaw tightening as he lined himself up with your sopping hole and pushed forward slowly. You felt the initial stretch, the instant sting of your body being forced to accommodate him. It was more painful than you'd imagined, like a searing ache that made you gasp and arch your back off the bed, unintentionally digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders as you clung to him like a lifeline.

"Hmpf, Sunghoon—wait, wait," you cried into his neck, your body instinctively tensing up against the massive intrusion.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, my love." He was so sweet, immediately slowing down his movement and staying right there with his forehead pressed against yours as he rained soft kisses over your eyelids and cheeks. "Just breathe. You have to relax for me. Please let me in, baby."

He waited patiently, even though his own body was shaking with the thought of not just taking what he wanted. He spoke to you in a low, soothing hum, words of praise and love that started to dull the sharp edges of the pain. "You're so tight, baby," he groaned in a pained sound that escaped him cause you couldn’t stop the way your muscles clenched around him. "It's like you're trying to snap my—shit—my cock off. I can barely move, you're squeezing me so hard."

Slowly but surely, the sting faded into something dull. You took a deep breath, consciously trying to sink into the mattress and open up for him. As you relaxed, he felt the shift and inched forward again—just a fraction of an inch at a time. It was a slow conquest and finally with one last, deep thrust of his hips, he bottomed out.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling the weight of him kissing your cervix, filling every possible corner of your body. The ache was gone, overtaken by a staggering sense of fullness that made you feel connected to him in a way that went beyond the physical.

"There," he sounded completely taken apart. He stayed buried deep inside you, his chest panting against yours as he watched your face. "I'm all the way in. How does it feel? Tell me you're okay."

"It's...so big," you trembled, your legs locking around his waist to keep him right where he was. "I feel so full with you."

He let out a sigh of a laugh, his eyes dilating as he realized the hardest part was finally over.

Sunghoon was a man of absolute control but having you pinned beneath him and hearing your body finally accept him was pushing him to his limits. He started with a little grind of his hips, rotating against your sensitive core with a push that forced you to feel every ridged inch of his girth. He was so unhurried, watching the pain melt into a foggy and heavy lidded pleasure.

Once your pained whimpers dissolved into needy moans, the last of his restraint snapped just a little and he reached down to grab your ankle and hook your leg over his broad shoulder, opening you up even further. The new angle allowed him to drive in deeper, his hips snapping forward a little faster than before.

"Sunghoon...oh god, Sunghoon," you moaned, thrashing your head against the sheets, the perfect wife persona you wore stripped away until there was nothing left but your raw honesty. "It's so deep inside me...I love it! I love you—I love your cock so much, it feels so big inside me...please, don't stop."

The utter vulgarity of your praise for him, coming from the woman he thought was untouchable made his pace shatter into something more erratic. He let out a hurt groan, while hitting all the right spots with every wet thrust, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing in the silent room.

"Shut up." The words escaped him in dangerous growl before he leaned down to bite at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't actually want you to stop but the way you were talking, the way you were worshipping him as he took your innocence was making his vision go dark. "If you keep talking like that, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to finish in ten seconds if you don't shut your mouth."

But he didn't slow down. If anything, your words made him meaner and his thrusts turned into deep pounds that had him bottoming out inside you. He was obsessed with the way you were stretching for him, the way your walls were milking him with every sob that fell from your lips. He was no longer the polite or distant husband, he became a man possessed and determined to make sure that the first time you ever felt a man would be a sensation that burned his name into your very soul.

Sunghoon grabbed your other leg and threw it over his shoulder until you were folded practically in half, your hips tilted high and vulnerable. He leaned his full weight down, pinning you into the mattress with his broad chest. In this position, he was able to fuck you even deeper with each thud so wet that it left you struggling to breathe.

He paused for a second, his face inches from yours to kiss you with a messy hunger before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Tell me," he commanded in a way that settled deep in your bones. "Who owns this pussy? Who owns every inch of you?"

"You!" you screamed immediately, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as he gave you fast and punishing thrusts. "You...my husband! Only you, Sunghoon!"

He let out a groan and his pace turned a little depraved. He was slamming into you faster now, his large hands reaching down to squeeze at your breast and pinch your nipples before sliding down to your waist and digging his thumbs into your hips to keep you from moving away.

"And whose cock?" he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he snapped his hips forward again and again until all you could hear was the wetness of your pussy as the fucked into you. "Whose big cock is fucking you right now? Whose length is stretching you out and making you feel this good?"

"Yours!" you sobbed hard, your whole body shaking against the sheets cause another wave of overstimulation crashed over you. "It's yours...Sunghoon's cock! My husband's cock is fucking me so good...please, Sunghoon, more! Fuck me harder! I think I’ll cum like this!"

The sound of your voice, so broken and begging for him was driving him insane but he didn't say another word, he just buried his face in the crook of your neck and fucked his cock imto you with everything he had, intent on leaving his mark on the wife who finally and truly belonged to him.

Sunghoon's breathing had devolved into a series of pointed stutters, his entire body was wound tight with a tension so profound it was as if his muscles might snap. He felt the quivering of your walls, so tight, hot and slick, squeezing around him in a yearning drive that milked him for everything he had, it told him exactly how close you were to cumming again while the wet slide of his girth pushed him closer to a total loss of control.

He pulled your legs even tighter against his shoulders, manhandling you until his chest was crushing yours and his heartbeat thundered against your ribs like a war drum. He looked down at you, his eyes nearly black with a visceral purpose, watching your face crumble into an expression of ecstasy.

"Sunghoon, I'm—I'm gonna—" you almost screamed, dragging your nails down his back and leaving scratches that he doesn't even feel.

"I can feel it, my love," he growled so deep it was practically a snarl. He slowed his pace for a fraction of a second but only so he could drive in with a force that made the entire bed frame groan under his weight. "You're so tight for me. You're perfect."

As the first ripples of your orgasm began to seize your muscles, Sunghoon leaned in until his lips were pressed hard against yours. "Let's have another baby," he nearly pleaded, the thought seemingly ripping out of his soul in the heat of the moment. The man of logic was dead and gone and in his place was a husband so obsessed with the idea of his own legacy growing inside the woman he loved. "Not like last time. No surrogates. I—oh fuck—I want it to be us. I want to see your belly grow because of me...I want to see you pregnant so bad it's driving me mad."

The aching honesty in his voice, combined with the way he was brushing your cervix with every word, sent you over the cliff before you could even realize it was happening. You let out a shattered cry, cumming so hard it was almost violent, your body gripping down on him like a vice with a strength that nearly brought him to his knees.

"Fuck, please," he whined, his control clearly dissolving into a thousand pieces. He didn't pull back or even think about it. He gave one last soul shaking thrust and buried himself to the absolute hilt, letting out a long whine, releasing months of repressed longing and love deep inside you.

He stayed inside you, his heaviness pinning you to the mattress while his forehead rested against yours cause his body wouldn’t stop shuddering with the strength of his orgasm. The room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing and the thudding of his heart as he waited for the tremors in his thighs to subside.

"Mine," he whispered against your swollen lips. "You're finally, finally mine."

When he finally began to move, it was with a gentle slowness—a deliberate retreat that made you whimper at the loss of his incredible size. He moved with a reverence that bordered on worship, careful not to chafe your sensitive walls as he slid out, the dripping sliding sound of his departure echoed in the quiet suite.

When he pulled himself out completely, the physical evidence of his devotion began to overflow. You felt the warm spurt of his cum escaping your pussy, Sunghoon didn't look away, he couldn’t. All he could do was watch satisfied, then he reached out his large hand trembling slightly and used his fingers to sweep the excess cum back toward your opening, his touch alternating between firm pressure and a light, teasing graze that made your nerve endings sizzle.

"Look at what I did to you," he sounded pleased, "Look at how much of me you're holding."

He didn't stop there, now driven by a need that seemed to have only been stirred by the act itself, he shifted lower once more. He knelt between your quivering thighs, dark eyes fixed on your swollen center and without a word of warning, he dived back in, his tongue sweeping over your folds in possessive strokes that gathered every bit of the messy cocktail of your combined fluids.

After the blunt force of his cock, the focus of his tongue again felt like a live wire against your skin. "Hoon, please...I can't," you cried helplessly, your hands tugged on his damp hair as you tried to push him away even as your hips bucked upward to meet him. "I'm too sensitive, I can't take any more—"

"Yes, you can," he growled against your skin, voice muffled by your thighs. He looked up at you, his beautiful face now mask of lust and adoration, totally drenched in the proof of your shared pleasure. "I want to feel it again. Cum on my face again, my love. Come on."

He ignored your half hearted protests and lapped and slurped at your pussy. He used his thumbs to stretch you wide to see more his cum slide out of your pussy, only to lap it up again. He sucked and ate you in with a burning need, his movements so strong it felt like he was trying to pull your very soul through your skin.

The build up was instantaneous and just as violent and it made your vision blur, made the world narrow down to the throb of just your husband’s mouth and the eager command in his voice. You felt that familiar wave climbing in your gut again, the dam of your composure finally and permanently shattered.

"Sunghoon!" you screamed, your fingers digging into his scalp as your body stiffened into a bow for the third time. You sobbed his name in a broken voice as you spiraled into another climax that felt like it would never end. Sunghoon stayed right there, taking in your juices, his eyes closed while he savored the taste of you cumming for him again.

When he was finally satisfied and you lay limp and slightly sobbing against the pillows, Sunghoon crawled back up the bed and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his limbs around you, anchoring you to him. The dutiful wife and the composed husband were gone—there was only the two of you now, tangled together in the wreckage of years of silence, finally whole.

Sunghoon's hold on you tightened, his arms were like a protective weight that seemed resolved to never let an inch of space come between your bodies again. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo mixed with the musk of your joint exertion.

The silence of the mansion, which once felt cold and even cavernous, now felt like a sanctuary—a little private world where the rigid expectations of your families and the careful choreography of your social lives couldn't reach you. "We have a lot of time to make up for," he said to you, pulling back just enough to look at you, rubbing his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. The golden light of the bedroom caught the sharp line of his jaw and the softened, now vulnerable expression in his eyes—a look he had never shown to anyone but you.

nene’s note ── i’ve alwaysssss wanted to try the arranged marriage trope and recently two of my friends got together because of an overheard phone call! could you imagine! y’all know i love feedback! enjoy!💕

You descend the narrow, slippery old stairs with the quiet thrill of someone who has stolen a secret from the city. Your camera hangs heavy against your chest, still warm from the brilliant success of the evening’s shoot. Now the creative high pulses through you like champagne, pushing you out into the night instead of home to bed. You want to chase more beauty, more feeling, more of whatever this alive, restless version of yourself can find.

The Thames has retreated generously for low tide, exposing a wide, glistening expanse of dark mud and wet shingle beneath the towering silhouette of Tower Bridge. The bridge’s iconic iron arches glow electric blue-white, spilling silver light across the foreshore like spilled moonlight. The air tastes of cool river silt, damp stone, and faint diesel from distant boats. Your shoes sink softly into the mud with a satisfying squelch as you reach the bottom and lift your camera.

You frame the scene slowly, the dramatic curve of the bridge overhead, lights reflecting in shallow puddles, the quiet drama of the exposed riverbed stretching out like a private stage. Your finger hovers, then presses.

Click.

The shutter echoes crisp and clean in the hush, and you adjust your stance, chasing a better angle, and click again.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you,” a warm, lively voice calls from further along the foreshore, “but that looks amazing. Any chance you could take one of me?”

You lower the camera and turn to find the source of the voice—he stood about twenty meters away, the bridge lights catching him beautifully. Fluffy blond hair falls softly over his forehead, slightly tousled by the river breeze, framing a face that feels both boyish and strikingly handsome. His dark eyes sparkle with open curiosity and easy charm, and a genuine, bright grin curves his lips. He’s wearing a simple hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing lean muscle, and his jeans are rolled casually to his calves, already dusted with mud. There’s some sort of effortless vitality about him. 

You can’t help the amused smile that tugs at your mouth, “right now? Standing in the mud under Tower Bridge at—one in the morning?” You asked, checking your watch. 

“Exactly,” he answers, laughing softly as he walks closer. His steps are light despite the sucking mud, and his grin widens, showing a hint of perfect teeth, “what else do you get a secret beach right under one of the most famous bridges in the world? C’mon—I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Make me look cool, or well, at least not completely ridiculous.”

You tilt your head, playful challenge sparking in your voice, “bold of you to assume I won’t make you look ridiculous on purpose.”

He stops a few paces away, eyes crinkling with amusement, “I’ll take the risk. Worst case, I have a hilarious story, the night a talented photographer turned me into a muddy disaster under Tower Bridge. Sounds pretty legendary already, doesn’t it?”

There’s something disarmingly magnetic about the way he says it, there’s no arrogance, just pure, infectious energy. You feel your own spark rising to meet his, the post-shoot glow mixing with the unexpected thrill of this stranger who seems just as alive as you feel tonight.

“Fine,” you say, lifting the camera again with a small laugh, “go on, find a good spot and try not to fall face-first into the silt. I’m not dragging anyone out tonight.”

He flashes you another quick, bright grin and jogs a few steps farther along the foreshore, positioning himself where the bridge’s dramatic lighting hits him from behind. The blue-white glow outlines his shoulders and turns the fluffy golden strands of his hair into something softer, almost glowing. He strikes a playful pose at first—one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket, the other gesturing toward the bridge like he’s presenting it, then glances back at you with mock seriousness.

“How’s this? Heroic enough?”

You shake your head, still smiling as you adjust the focus, “heroic? You look like you’re trying to sell the bridge back to the city, c’mon loosen up a little. Like, maybe pretend the river’s telling you a secret.”

He relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping, head tilting slightly as he turns his gaze out over the dark water. The pose shifts from staged to something more genuine, the lights catching the faint sheen of river mist on his skin, the easy wonder in his expression. He looks effortlessly handsome, caught between the grand bridge and the intimate, uh, mud.

You press the shutter. Click.

The sound feels intimate in the quiet night.

“Better?” He asks, voice carrying that warm, hopeful note as he glances over his shoulder.

“Much better,” you reply, checking the screen quickly. The shot is beyond lovely, the contrast between the glowing architecture and his relaxed presence makes the frame feel alive, almost cinematic, “one more. Turn a little toward the water—yes, like that. Chin up just a touch.”

He follows your direction without hesitation, eyes softening as he looks out across the Thames. The breeze ruffles his hair again, and you capture it, the quiet moment of a young man with city lights painting him in silver and electric blue.

Click.

“Got it,” you say, lowering the camera with a satisfied smile, “you clean up surprisingly well in pictures.”

He turns fully toward you now, that bright grin returning as he walks closer, mud squelching under his trainers. The distance between you shrinks until you can see the faint scatter of freckles across his nose and the way his dark eyes catch the bridge light, “high praise coming from the artist herself. Can I see?”

You hesitate for half a second, then tilt the camera screen toward him. He leans in, close enough that you catch the clean, warm scent of his skin mixed with river air and a hint of something fresh like citrus (and wood?). His shoulder brushes lightly against yours accidentally, but the contact sends an undeniable spark racing across your skin.

“Wow,” he murmurs, genuinely impressed, voice dropping softer, “these are actually incredible. You made me look—I don’t know, like I belong here.”

You shrug lightly, but warmth blooms in your chest at the sincerity in his tone, “the location does half the work.”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours directly. There’s a new spark there now, almost playful and curious, “the photographer makes the difference.”

For a moment the night feels suspended, the distant hum of the city fading as the two of you stand on the glistening foreshore, the bridge watching silently overhead like a witness to whatever this unexpected encounter is quietly becoming.

He straightens, still smiling, but his gaze lingers a beat longer than necessary, “I’m Jake, by the way. And I definitely owe you for the photos, and for not laughing me straight off the riverbank.”

You tilt your head, letting the camera rest against your chest, “you’re welcome. Though I do think I should’ve clicked a silly picture of you.”

He laughs and the sound is warm, “harsh, I thought we were bonding over secret beaches and dramatic lighting.” He gestures with an open hand toward the wide stretch of foreshore ahead, “walk with me? At least until the tide decides to ruin our fun. I promise I’m better company than the mud.”

You hesitate for half a second, then fall into step beside him, your trainers sinking into the damp silt with soft squelches that match his. The exposed riverbed feels vast with the shifting shadows that dance across the wet ground and over both of you.

For a moment, comfortable silence settles, broken only by the gentle lap of the retreating water and the distant hum of a late-night cab crossing the bridge above.

Jake glances sideways at you, dark eyes catching the light, “so, mysterious night photographer, do you always wander down hidden stairs at one in the morning looking for perfect shots, or am I just lucky tonight?”

You shoot him a playful side-eye, lips curving, “I had a really good shoot earlier. Everything clicked for once, just felt—felt too wired to go home, so I figured I’d chase more of that feeling. What about you?”

He shrugs, but there’s a spark of genuine excitement in his expression, “finished a crazy shift at the bar in Borough Market. My mates wanted to keep drinking inside some loud place, but I saw something online about low tide under Tower Bridge and thought—why the hell not? ” He kicks lightly at a shallow puddle, sending a small spray of water glinting in the bridge light.

You nod, surprised by how easily his words settle in your chest, “I get that. Tonight felt like one of those rare nights where everything lines up. Like the city’s finally letting me see it properly.”

Jake’s gaze lingers on you a beat longer than necessary, the corner of his mouth lifting, “lucky city, then.”

The simple compliment lands warmer than it should, sending a faint flutter low in your stomach. You bump his shoulder lightly with yours as you walk, the contact brief but deliberate, “flattery already? We’ve only been walking for two minutes.”

“Guilty,” he admits, grinning wider. His fluffy hair shifts as he turns his head toward you, dark eyes sparkling with mischief, “but hey—it’s not flattery if it’s true. You’ve got this energy, like you’re lit up from the inside. Makes a guy want to keep up.”

You laugh softly, but the air between you feels thicker now, charged. The mud makes every step feel intimate—close enough that your arms brush occasionally, sending small sparks racing across your skin. 

“Careful, Jakey,” you tease, voice lighter than you feel, “keep talking like that and I might start thinking you’re trying to charm your way into more photos.”

Jake slows his steps just enough to face you more directly, the playful glint in his eyes darkening into something hotter, “is it working?”

Your breath catches for a fraction of a second. The bridge lights cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the defined line of his cheekbones. He’s close enough now that you can see the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the hoodie, the way his lips part slightly as he waits for your answer.

You hold his gaze, letting the tension stretch deliciously, “hm, maybe? Depends how good you are at keeping up with water and my terrible jokes.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through the small space between you, “I’m excellent at both. Watch this.”

He crouches suddenly, scooping up a flat stone from the silt, and skips it across a shallow puddle with impressive precision—four clean bounces before it sinks. He straightens, turning to you with a triumphant smirk, “your turn. Loser owes the winner a dare.”

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer until your shoulders nearly touch again, “a dare? that’s bold. What if I win?”

“Then I’ll owe you whatever you want,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make the words feel heavier, his dark eyes flick down to your mouth for a split second before returning to yours, “but I should warn you, I don’t lose easily.”

You crouch, pick up a flat stone, and flick it across the puddle, which grants you five clean skips.

Jake whistles low, clicking his tongue right after, “alright, you win. What’s my dare?”

You let your eyes trail over him slowly before you smirk, “fine, take off your hoodie, and the t-shirt too.”

Jake’s lips curve into a slow, amused smirk. Without hesitation, he pulls the hoodie off, then grips the hem of his black t-shirt and tugs it over his head in one smooth motion.

The bridge lights hit him perfectly. Faint, defined abs flex under smooth skin as he moves, and his arms are veiny, strong lines running from forearms to biceps. His hair is now properly messy, a few strands sticking to his forehead from the breeze. He stands there, shirtless in the cool night air, holding both garments in one hand, looking unfairly good.

“Like this?” He asks, voice dropping lower, a little rougher. He steps closer, mud squelching under his feet, until you can feel the warmth coming off his bare skin.

You lift the camera, pulse quickening, and snap the shot. The lights carve shadows along the cut of his abs and the veins on his arms and hands.

You lower the camera but don’t back away, setting the camera down carefully on a dry patch of concrete ledge beside the piling, out of reach of the mud, before turning back to him, “yeah, you look really fucking good like this.”

Jake’s eyes darken as he leans in, breath warm against your cheek, “keep talking like that,” he murmurs, voice an octave lower, “and the next dare’s gonna be me taking something off you.”

“Yeah? What’s stopping you?” You whisper, and that’s all it takes. 

Jake’s eyes flash with raw hunger. In one smooth motion he closes the last inch between you, veiny hands gripping your waist as he backs you firmly against the cool concrete piling as the rough surface presses into your back while his bare chest burns hot against your front.

“Nothing,” he breathes, voice low and rough, plump lips brushing the corner of your mouth, “absolutely fucking nothing.”

He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, and maybe he is. The way he slots his lips against yours feels almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting like warm cider and pure want. One of his strong, veiny hands cups the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly how he wants while the other slides down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him so you can feel how hard he is getting with each passing second.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, hands sliding up his bare chest, fingers tracing the faint ridges of his abs. When you break for air, your voice comes out breathy and teasing.

“Not fair—you look so good with your t-shirt off.”

Jake chuckles against your lips, “you dared me, remember?” He nips at your bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, “besides, you’re the one who keeps looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”

You smile into the next kiss, letting your hands roam over his warm skin, “maybe I do. You look stupidly hot right now.”

He groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours for a second, breath coming faster, “if you say shit like that and I’m gonna want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, lips brushing his jaw as you speak, “then what are you waiting for?”

Jake’s grip on your hip tightens, and he turns you gently but firmly, pressing your front against the cool concrete piling. His bare chest molds to your back, deliciously warm. One arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, while his other hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your jeans.

“You sure?” He murmurs right against your ear, voice husky but still soft enough to make your stomach flip, “we’re still kind of out in the open here—”

The thrill of it makes you push back against him, “I know—that’s what makes it better.”

He lets out a quiet laugh that sounds half-groan, “fuck, you’re trouble.” His fingers pop the button of your jeans and slowly drag the zipper down, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Instead of answering with words, you reach back and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, “don’t stop.”

Jake hums in approval, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck as he works your jeans and panties down just enough to bare you to the cool night air. He doesn’t take them off completely—they stay tangled around your thighs, keeping things risky and hurried.

“God, you’re already so wet,” he whispers, voice thick with wonder as his fingers slide between your folds. He circles your clit slowly, teasing, then dips lower to push one finger inside you, “feel that? So fucking warm and tight for me already.”

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, hips rocking back against his hand, “Jake—that feels really really good.”

He adds a second finger, curling them just right while his thumb keeps lazy circles on your clit, “yeah? You like my fingers?” He kisses the spot just below your ear, smiling against your skin when you shiver, “you’re making such pretty sounds. Keep going, baby, I like hearing you.”

The praise makes heat pool even hotter between your legs. You reach back blindly, gripping his thigh, “then stop teasing and give me more.”

Jake chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back, “so demanding—I like that.” He nips at your neck, then soothes it with his tongue, “but I want to taste you first.”

Before you can respond, he spins you around gently but firmly, so your back is still pressed to the cool concrete piling. He drops to his knees in the mud right in front of you, looking up with dark, hungry eyes and that same charming grin that started everything, almost like he’s down there to worship you. 

“Lift your leg for me,” he murmurs, voice low and warm as he taps your left thigh. When you hook it over his shoulder, he groans softly in approval, “good girl—just like that.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh first, then another higher up, teasing. When his tongue finally drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, your head falls back against the piling with a shaky breath.

“Fuck, oh fuck—” Jake groans against you, the vibration making your hips twitch, “you taste so good, so fucking sweet.” He licks you again, broader this time, savoring every inch before focusing on your clit with slow, firm circles.

You tug his hair lightly, “Jake—that feels incredible.”

He hums happily, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he sucks gently on your clit, “yeah? You like my mouth on you?” His voice is muffled but still teasing, “keep talking, pretty. We gotta communicate.”

“It feels so good,” you breathe, hips rocking subtly against his face, “don’t stop, please.”

Jake smiles against your pussy, clearly enjoying every second, “not planning on it.” He slides two fingers back inside you, curling them perfectly while his tongue keeps working your clit in steady, relentless strokes. The wet sounds of his mouth mix with your soft moans and the quiet lap of the tide nearby.

Every lick and curl pushes you higher. Your grip tightens in his hair as your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“Jake—I’m getting close,” you gasp, voice breaking a little.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shiny, eyes dark with lust but still sparkling with that playful energy, “already? You’re so sensitive—I love it.” He presses a quick, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, then dives back in, sucking a little harder, fingers pumping faster, “c’mon, baby. Let me feel you cum on my tongue, I want to taste every second of it.”

The combination of his words, his mouth, and the risky thrill of being half-naked under Tower Bridge sends you over the edge hard. Your back arches off the concrete as you reach your high, thighs shaking around his shoulders while you moan his name breathlessly.

Jake doesn’t pull away, in fact, he keeps licking you through every wave, slow and gentle now, drawing it out until you’re whimpering and oversensitive, fingers loosening in his messy hair.

Only when your breathing starts to slow does he rise to his feet, pressing his bare chest against you again. His lips find yours in a deep, slow kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One veiny hand cups your jaw tenderly while the other rests on your hip, thumb stroking soothing circles over your skin.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breath warm and ragged. A small, satisfied smile plays on his lips.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he murmurs, voice husky but soft, “the way you sound, the way you taste, I could do that for hours.”

You’re still catching your breath, legs a little shaky, but you manage a teasing smile as you run your fingers through his hair again, “you’re really good at that—almost too good.”

Jake chuckles quietly, nipping at your bottom lip, “almost? Guess I’ll have to try harder next time.” His hand slides down to squeeze your ass lightly, pulling you closer so you can feel how hard he still is against your thigh, “but right now—I really want to be inside you, if you’re still up for it.”

You smile against his mouth, a little breathless, and rock your hips forward once, teasing him right back, “you’re asking like I haven’t been dying for it since you took your shirt off.”

He lets out a low laugh that turns into a soft groan, “fuck, you’re perfect,” he kisses you again, woring his jeans open just enough simultaneously. His cock is hot and heavy as he presses it against you, sliding the head through your folds.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice husky, “right here, like this.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tilting your hips to chase him, “I want you inside me, now.”

Jake groans softly and pushes in slowly, sinking deep in one smooth thrust until he’s buried to the hilt. Both of you moan at the same time, his low and rough, yours shaky.

“Shit,” he breathes, forehead dropping to your shoulder, “you feel incredible. So warm and tight around me.” He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, lips brushing your neck, “you okay?”

You nod, fingers digging into his bare shoulders, “more than okay.”

He smiles against your skin and starts moving, slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet sound of him sliding in and out mixes with your soft moans and the quiet lap of the tide.

“God, listen to you,” he murmurs, voice warm and a little awed, “you’re so wet. Sounds so pretty when I’m inside you.”

You bite your lip, a moan slipping out as he hits just the right spot, “Jake—harder, please.”

He chuckles softly, the sound turning into a groan when you clench around him, his next thrust is sharper, deeper.

You tug on his hair lightly, “don’t hold back, I want to feel all of you.”

Jake’s eyes darken, “yeah? You want it harder?” He picks up the pace, fucking you with steady, deep thrusts that rock you against the concrete piling. One hand stays on your hip, holding you steady, while the other braces beside your head, “like this? Tell me, go on.”

“So good,” you gasp, legs starting to tremble. 

He leans in and kisses you messily, then rests his forehead against yours so you’re sharing the same breath, “you’re driving me crazy, you know that?” His voice is rough but still playful, eyes locked on yours, “making those sounds, looking at me like that. I’m trying to go slow but you’re making it really hard.”

You smile, a little dazed, and squeeze around him again. Jake groans, hips snapping harder, “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He keeps that perfect rhythm while one hand slips between your bodies to rub slow circles over your clit, ”c’mon, baby. I can feel how close you are, let me feel you cum around me.”

The pressure builds fast. Your nails dig into his shoulders as your thighs start shaking.

“Jake—I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Yeah?” He kisses you again, quick and hungry. “Then cum for me. I want to feel you squeezing my cock. Let go—I’ve got you.”

The orgasm hits you hard. Your back arches against the piling as pleasure floods through you, moaning his name while your walls clench tight around him. Jake groans deeply, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck—that’s it, you feel so good,” he rasps, voice breaking a little, “I’m right there with you.”

With one final deep thrust he buries himself inside you and cums hard, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you close through every wave, breathing ragged against your neck. For a long moment, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and the soft lap of the tide slowly rising around your feet.

Jake presses soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your jaw, then finds your lips again—slow and sweet this time. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, blonde hair a mess and dark eyes soft but still glowing.

“Still with me?” He murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek gently, “that was—insane, in the best way.”

You laugh breathlessly, fingers brushing through his hair, “yeah, definitely insane.”

He smiles, pressing one more gentle kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out. He helps you fix your jeans with careful hands, even as his own stay open and low on his hips. Mud is smeared on both of you, but neither of you really care.

Jake cups your face with both hands and gives you a soft, lingering peck on the lips, then another on the corner of your mouth.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a shy but hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey—uh, can I get your number?” He asks quietly, voice warm, “I’d really like to see you again. Not just for secret river adventures—though those are pretty great too.”

The tide is creeping closer, Tower Bridge still glowing overhead, and the night feels full of possibility.

PERM TAGLIST: @jaeminvore @hoondrop @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @deobitifull @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @woniebae @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @ma-riiii @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven @kristynaaah @tinycatharsis @filmnings @mwahvvis @mintchocoddeonut @s0shroe @onlyticket-home @meowieshibal@ikeukiss @in-somnias-world @tokkisluv @choicila @bambiihee @taesnumber1 @yenienha @angelhyuka @heesmiles @enhypens-hoe @loverofmusic0027 @strawberrykkk1 @raikea10 @criceofpain @dollhoonki

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AT LONG LAST, THE CURTAINS HAVE DRAWN. what has been the better part of hours stretched across an entire day has felt like nothing but mere seconds to sunghoon. at long last, he can peel his eyes away from the glimpses of sweet heaven before him without risk of missing anything.

for the first time in hours, sunghoon can blink.

initially, it offers no effect; eyes long past dried out like they’ve been baking under a lamp. sunghoon screws them shut, watches colours explode behind his lids until he can feel tears dotting his lashes from the pressure. 

matter of fact, he hasn’t closed his eyes for so long that he could probably fall asleep within seconds, even in the position he’s in: slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair, sat facing the window of his hotel room as neon lights flicker by. 

for a moment, he considers it. his head throbs with a migraine from how long he’s been forcing his eyes to stay wide open, and there’s no point sitting here now that things have just gotten boring. you’ve just shut him out, like a prude. a tease. suddenly caring after an entire day of paying no mind to your ajar curtains – starting at the ass crack of dawn when you pulled them back to welcome in the sunlight. 

sunghoon accepted that invitation, too.

it’s not like his attention could be anywhere other than the view of your hotel across from his – not until his body physically shuts down from exhaustion in short, pathetic bouts – but he pulled a chair from the sad excuse of a dining table and sat his ass down right in front of his window; where he’s been unmoving, unblinking, as you went about your day since. acting oblivious to the audience you’ve practically begged to flock over to you, just flaunting yourself out there for any old chump to drool over if they were so lucky to look up from the street or out of their window. 

he considered getting toothpicks to keep his eyelids pried open in those instances where his body began to nod off, until he jolted wide awake and freshly energised at the sight of you padding by the window in nothing but a towel. skin glistening, hair damp and running stray beads of water down your shoulders. 

sunghoon ran his tongue over his teeth – oh, how he wished he could lick up every last droplet from your body, suck your hair into his mouth and taste the strawberry shampoo you so famously use. 

your teasing didn’t stop there. you made it a point to keep walking by that window, just throwing yourself at sunghoon as you showed off your new matching lace underwear, then returned in a skimpy pajama set. 

who walks by one window that many fucking times as they’re getting dressed? you have to be doing it on purpose. god, you’re such a damn….flirt. 

he’s not complaining though. of course not! the fleeting sight of you each time, just innocently trotting along by the window, was enough to pull a good few orgasms out of him; even with his aching joints in this stiff fucking chair.

he’s scarcely left his room at all, which is only due to the fact that he’s mirroring you. you’ve been isolating for days on end ever since wrapping up the tour stop in this city. there was a deliberate few days separating this concert from the next one to give you some time to sightsee, make the most of a break here and take a breather from your schedules – yet you’ve done nothing but remain holed up in that hotel room ever since performing for thousands on stage.

it’s like you know it’s ‘cause he’s watching, isn’t it?

sunghoon paid good fucking money for this view. jake thought he was being smart, snagging a room only a few doors down on your floor. thought he could hear you through the walls, maybe coincidentally bump into you each time you leave. except, you haven’t left once – only room service or your staff visiting to deliver food, offer company. jake isn’t getting shit for what he dropped a whole paycheck on, and yet you’re over here prancing around half-naked for sunghoon’s eyes to feast on. 

sunghoon heaves a sigh, stretching his arms out above his head until the joints pop. aches throb in his forearms, the muscles exhausted from when he was jerking off and having back to back orgasms just staring at the view of your empty hotel room. 

it’s been good fun with you, but the time’s come for you to actually leave. tomorrow morning is your flight to the next city. you’ll be forced to go outside – much like sunghoon, as he’s forced to follow you.

he’s been neglecting his own body in favour of catching any sight of yours through the window. the last time he took care of his health was with the sole purpose of attending your concert here. 

he’ll need to present himself as a real person again. take an actual shower and wash his hair. shave the stubble off his face, maybe even tweeze his eyebrows. he wants to look good for you when you see him. because you will – as you have before. 

waving at him in the stands, blowing him a kiss at barricade, smiling at him like an old friend at the send off. each memory more cherished than the last – each instance the red string of fate grows tauter between you. 

of course, the crowd is all thinking the same thing. he’s aware of that, he’s not stupid. 

but they’re not him. they don’t know you like he does. 

can any of your other fans name the brand of perfume you spritzed on after your shower this morning? (gucci flora, naughty girl… you have a brand deal with dior!) can they count the amount of underwear sets you folded into your suitcase? (5, all pastels. you must wash them at each stop.) can any of those pathetic, delusional bottom feeders say with confidence that you opened your curtains to let them in?

yeah. 

he didn’t think so. 

—

sunghoon hates the airport. almost as much as he hates camping outside of the concert venues. everyone here is in a rush and shoving and breathing down each other’s necks. he’s been here since the early morning to secure a nice, clear view when you arrive, but he’s gradually been shoved to third from the front in the crowd that’s gathered. god, some people have no manners these days. whatever happened to fandom etiquette? they’re all here for the same person – you – but it’s like every man for himself. 

“ay, wait,” jake nudges him from the side, tilting his phone to sunghoon. “she’s just about to arrive.”

sunghoon narrows his eyes at the screen, scanning over the text messages before jake shuts it off with a mutter to mind his damn business. but sunghoon already recognised the contact name. it was your make-up artist – he’s bought bits of information off of her in the past. never got his money’s worth though, she’s really vague with promises to reveal more if you spend more. sunghoon doesn’t waste his time with that scam shit. jake being privy to live updates of your location though?

“how do you get so much out of her? she’d never tell me anything good.” sunghoon asks, tone bored as if he’s not seething with jealousy right now. 

jake pokes his tongue out, flashes suggestive eyes while giggling to himself. sunghoon nearly gags. sleeping with your staff while he claims to want you? no fucking shame… 

there’s a roar of commotion at the front, and sunghoon stands on his tip-toes for a clear view as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. someone pushes him from behind, cussing him out for being too fucking tall, but sunghoon can’t hear anything other than ringing in his ears as he recognises all your staff and security filing out through the doors. and then, there you are: just as pretty as when he last saw you through the hotel window.

sunghoon’s momentarily lifted off his feet as the crowd rippled, following after your crew while you wave and bow to all the fans gathered here in your name. sunghoon keeps losing his balance, losing sight of you as he’s pushed from all angles. people get barbaric in your presence. 

some (stupid) few from the front divert, rushing up to your staff and earning a hard shove to the ground by your security. they’re not all that competent though – a taller fan, one sunghoon recalls as riki that he camped with at your osaka concert, is able to shoulder his way through your stylists and grab your arm. he’s wrangled away by security within the next second, but the damage was done – they can actually get to you. so, they try. 

the airport erupts into a frenzy. the mob of fans sprint at your crew, hands gripping and legs stretching to get in between your security, while they struggle to keep the overwhelming number of them at bay. jake pats sunghoon’s arm before he himself sets off, waiting behind the more forward fans and watching for an opening in your guard. 

a thought forms in sunghoon’s head. he takes out the black mask tucked into his pocket and slings it around his ears, then pulls his cap down low, covering his face. he, too, watches for an opening – but he doesn’t make himself a known threat. he stands back, smiles under his mask when a fight breaks out between the fans. idiots. the horde could easily overpower the common enemy of security, if only they weren’t throwing punches at the competition beside themselves. 

sunghoon pivots the instant his chance appears. a split second decision, he’s flying on his feet to his mark – your staff parted and separated just perfectly enough that he flies under the radar when he steps between them, instantly playing the part as he shoves at the other fans he was just standing beside. he recognises someone he traded insider info with for an exclusive signed photocard of you, someone else who gave sunghoon water when he had heatstroke camping outside of your manila venue. 

and then there’s jake. jake’s eyes widen, shouting something that sunghoon can’t quite catch – not when he launched jake at the wall without a second thought after he appeared in front of him. when a security guard glances at sunghoon, hands too full to think to get a good look at him, he just turns his attention to another frenzied fan. sunghoon’s mouth twitches into a grin under the mask. he’s successfully disguised himself in the role as just another terrified staff member. 

holy shit. he’s thought about doing this before, but never once considered it’d even work. he’s on top of the fucking world right now. this was meant to be!

sunghoon acts like he’s giving an appreciative bow to the guard for protecting him, then backs himself further into the crew, body jostling as they all struggle to shuffle forward – fans still pressing relentlessly in from the outside and blocking the way through. 

he wedges his way through your frantic staff until he catches sight of your hair from behind, the heavens from above parting the clouds and casting a halo of light down on you. sunghoon holds his phone up to his ear before he taps your back, and you flinch at the sudden touch, panicked pretty eyes glancing over your shoulder. 

he covers the phone’s speaker – acting as if he’s on a call – before he strains to shout over the commotion: “miss, i’ll lead you out of here! i’ve just called the airport security, they’re coming to help,”

“but where?” you shout back, perfect brows pinched and perfect lips pouted in worry. he notices the way your eyes flit all over what little of his face isn’t concealed, straining to recognise him, remember a name or a position or anything. he’s this close, this familiar with you – how do you know him again? you’re so cute, futilely trying to figure him out. 

“there’s a private lounge down that hall,” sunghoon points, and your glossy eyes follow. “they told us to wait there until this crowd is dispersed. it’s too out of control to stay here.”

you nod, quick to believe but not as quick to trust. you know that you know him, but you still don’t know where you recognise him, and it’s prickling at you. 

sunghoon says some muffled bullshit through his mask into the phone speaker, then pretends to hang up the phone call. he gives you a quick nod of assurance, offering his hand.

you take it and his skin is on fire. 

sunghoon looks around him frantically, acting like he’s trying to speak with any of the guards but they’re too busy to notice him. he sighs theatrically, yelling at the ear of one that he’s taking you to another room. uncaring if the useless fuck even heard, sunghoon’s already pivoting with you in tow – beelining to the private guest’s lounge (looking up the airport’s map last night came in handy), fingers taut around your wrist like a noose. 

you both rush up to the desk receptionist, who instantly recognises you and starts bumbling through her practiced greeting. you’re too frazzled to reply, so sunghoon does the talking – playing further into his little disguise. 

he’s not really acting when he’s too out of breath to say his words properly, just huffing excuses and puffing lies, hoping it forms a believable sentence that a real staff member would say. the noise from the ongoing chaos outside feeds through the automatic glass door, and so the receptionist doesn’t even let sunghoon finish his bullshit before she’s nodding and leading them into the extra private vip room of the already private lounge. 

you step in first, sunghoon on your heel. the receptionist starts saying some jargon about if you needed any more help but sunghoon’s already shutting the door in her face. the lock clicks, and your head whips to level him with a confused glance. 

sunghoon grabs a nearby chair and pulls it up to the knob, barring the door. you watch with bated breath as he rotates back to face you – tugging off his mask and cap, grinning maniacally. 

he’s thought about this more times than he can count. he’s dreamed of this exact scenario, ending in a slightly different yet drastic way each time. 

he braces for you to scream for help, to cry for mercy, to curse at him or run away from him. you might put up a fight, or you might just surrender. they’re his favourite fantasies, the one that enters his mind most often when he’s fisting his cock with your face pulled up on his phone. 

but you don’t do anything of the sort. you don’t do anything he was prepared for, anything that he’s imagined countless of times before. 

“sunghoon, right?” you say, recognition bright in your eyes as you point at him as if unexpectedly running into a friend. 

he freezes like an idiot. 

“how have you been?” you purr, sitting on the room’s couch. you make yourself comfortable when you lean back, cross your legs. the picture of a worry-free woman. how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?

how do you know his name?!

“you remember me..?” is all he can croak, shifting stupidly in his spot with a thousand yard stare. 

“of course i remember a familiar face,” you simply smile. “i still have the little crocheted penguin you gifted me at the houston send-off. i keep it on my shelf. it’s adorable.”

that catapults sunghoon’s heart over the fucking moon. do you understand how fucking long that tiny thing took him to learn how to make, and then actually make it? the fact that you still have it is something else entirely, but knowing the exact send-off too? because sunghoon doesn’t miss a single one. 

he doesn’t always get barricade, nor does he always get an interaction in with you, but he’s always there at your concerts. he’d rather die than skip showing up for his girl. every stop around the globe, he’s followed you. even when you’re not performing – attending events as a brand ambassador, going on vacations that aren’t on your public schedule. he’s easily dropped multiple zeros in dollars on paying off your sleazy staff members to forfeit insider information or set aside the vip tickets. 

it’s how he knows you’re a single girl, too. have been for quite a while. 

“so how have you been?” you ask him, smiling too fondly for someone who’s essentially his hostage. maybe all the time he spent meticulously doing skincare and waxing his face paid off – the stockholm syndrome affecting you in real time because he’s that hot. 

“oh– well, i don’t do much.” he replies without thinking. stupid, fucking stupid piece of shit. you probably think he’s such a boring loser. scrambling for something to impress you, he adds: “i’ve been spending a lot of money on a certain special someone.” 

sunghoon grins, intentionally popping the dimples from his cheeks so he looks like less of a threat. 

“is that so?” you ask, arching your back as you sit upright. his eyes track the movement, entranced. you’re flirting. “she must be a very lucky girl.”

sunghoon waves it off, like it’s nothing. because it is. you’ve consumed his life – there is no him without you. your music is what pulled him from the murky pits of water in his own head. instead of letting the waves drag him under, you made him want to tread above the surface and stay breathing. just so he could watch your career grow, your dreams come true. you saved his life and so he owes it to you. this is how he leads a fulfilling existence; following after you is how he breathes. 

“just want to make her happy. see her smile. be the reason she keeps making music, keeps living her dream.” sunghoon murmurs, taking space with each word, stepping until he’s towering before you. “are you? is it everything that you dreamed of?”

there’s a flicker across your face of something that he catches, but can’t quite place. before he can even interpret it, you’re smiling again like the sparkle in your eyes never left, shrugging one shoulder. 

“not in certain moments. but when i’m performing, that’s where i’m really living.” 

sunghoon’s hands twitch at his sides, wishing so desperately to reach out for you, to hold you for comfort or to shake you around until you cry, to throw you down and demand what he wants. he doesn’t know. he just needs to prove that he can affect you a sliver of the amount that you affect him. you’re not even scared right now. do you even care that he’s here? would you even react if security barged down the door and shot him in the head? 

there’s an endless list worth of questions he’s wanted to ask you before he dies – industry gossip, your deepest secrets that not even staff know, future releases, specific questions about you that are just to satiate his own greed to know every corner of your being – but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it. he just blurts–

“do you think i won’t hurt you?”

sunghoon’s quite used to the feeling of keeping his eyes open as wide as possible, and he does so that he can take in every little flinch of your face. any reaction that passes across your features, no matter how miniscule. anything for him to interpret – to know if this is all an elaborate act, that you’re actually shaken to your core in fear of the man before you. but– 

nothing. nothing. nothing. 

he holds his eyes open so he doesn’t miss anything, but you do the same right back at him. you don’t blink either, so your faces just stare back at one another, expressionless and carved from stone. he locked you in here with him, he should be the one demanding all the cooperation – and yet all the power is in your hands. he doesn’t understand. 

“will you?” you ask, unphased.

he could, he thinks. he’d leave a mark at least – proof he was here, he got this close. he’d be hailed as some sort of messiah among your most devoted fans. 

but he doesn’t want to. he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, heat flaring behind his nose the only warning before guilty tears nearly dot his lashes. he shuts his eyes hard enough, quick enough that they don’t water. 

you shift in your seat, seeming intrigued. 

“no?” you ask him, and he nods in tiny again. you smile. “no. i didn’t think you were that type of person.” 

sunghoon’s breath rattles out from his throat. you shift forward, your hands reaching up to hover by his legs. you stare at him through your lashes, and his cock stands to attention just at the sight of you so close. regardless of if you’re even asking – he nods. 

your palms gently plant on either side of his thighs, and so much electricity courses through sunghoon’s blood that he’s almost worried he’ll zap and kill you. 

“i don’t know if i’ve ever told you before, but.. you’re really handsome, sunghoon.” 

his adam’s apple bobs almost painfully in a harsh gulp. it does nothing to relieve his cotton mouth. 

“you’re gorgeous.” he chokes out. “so much. perfect.” he’s just murmuring nonsense, brain turning to complete mush at the feel of your hands sliding over his pants. 

you sigh softly. “i feel so grateful, to be loved by you.” 

your hands glide to his front, his cock twitching as the heat of your fingertips graze closer. your thumbs brush at his hipbone, lingering at the band of his pants. 

“let me?” you whisper. so quietly, he thinks he must’ve hallucinated it. 

but he blinks, once and again, and he knows that the way you’re looking at him is real – because his brain could’ve never conjured it. 

you’re so fucking pretty. licking your lips, looking at him through eager eyes. fuck, you’re asking him to let you? even if you didn’t have his word, you could do whatever the fuck you want to him and he’d just take it like the grateful man he is. 

realising he’s making you wait, sunghoon chokes on his answer – his own hands fumbling to unbutton the pants for you. shaky fingers drag his zipper down, ripping the flyer open enough to reveal a glimpse of the prominent bulge in his boxers underneath. 

you follow his lead, flashing a smile that melts his entire being as your fingers find his waistband. you tug gently, and he winces as his length pulls with the movement. he only hopes that you don’t mention the massive stain of pre already there. the front of his pants have been growing tighter with each minute since he locked you in this room. 

slowly, you pull the fabric down until his cock bobs free, flushed red and leaking like a faucet. you blink at its size, wetting your lips again as your fingers reach out to wrap around the base. sunghoon just manages to stifle the sob of relief that nearly left his chest. 

he can’t help how his greedy pelvis bucks forward slightly, and is just as quick to cuss himself out for being so selfish. you make a small hum before leaning in, tapping your lips to the tip. so fucking soft..

you stretch your mouth around him, swallowing his whole length down until you meet your own fingers. sunghoon’s shaking above you, not even registering the embarrassing noises leaving his mouth from the pure ecstasy. you’re so hot and wet around him, tongue so perfectly tracing the vein on the underside of his length. 

you reverse the movement, pulling back and sucking as you go. sunghoon can’t even form a coherent thought, hands trembling at his sides when he should really reach out and pinch to check if you’re real. though the way your mouth seals tight around him feels real enough, the way your tongue swirls his head and laves at the slit. 

overwhelming pleasure seizes his body as you begin to bob your head, stars exploding from the inside out – and sunghoon blacks out. 

by the time he comes back to, he doesn’t immediately realise what happened. it’s not until he winces at the near painful sensitivity in his cock – glancing down as your glossy lips pop off his length, the sharp sensation sending goosebumps racing across his flesh. 

you grin intentionally at him, opening your mouth to show the mess coating your tongue. it’s only then that sunghoon realises he even came. 

prematurely. like a fucking virgin. 

you making a show of swallowing it, throat bobbing as the taste of him slides down. his cock twitches at the sight. 

sunghoon gathers his bearings, runs a hand through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. there’s a laundry list of things he would (and could) kill to do to you. every scenario he’s imagined, every position he’s daydreamed. his mind overloads with all the possibilities, causing his body to blank and still – while you’re still just there, waiting for him.

he shakes his head, settling on the decision that he’ll drop to his knees and return the favour. taste your slick between his teeth, unravel you on his tongue and feel you around his fingers. he almost drools just picturing it. 

BANG. BANG. 

sunghoon leaps from his skin at the sudden noise, whipping his head to the door and watching it shake in its frame, the knob wiggling. there’s overlapping voices on the other side yelling out your name, but you don’t seem the least bit rattled. 

you take it upon yourself to tuck sunghoon back into his pants, zipping it shut and giving his thigh a little pat – as if to reassure him. his heart would swell with affection, if only it wasn’t completely gripped with fear. 

“no need to worry!” you call out to the concerned shouts, then flash sunghoon an apologetic glance. “sorry about all that, excuse me.”

you cross the room to the door casually, as if you’re just letting in some guests to your home. you move the chair to the side, flick the lock and step back expectantly – the door flying open and slamming into the wall from the force. 

staff swarm you and fuss about, forming a protective blockade around you. that annoying receptionist appears at the door, pointing at sunghoon with a glare – then your security is quick to follow and hone in on him. sunghoon braces himself to sprint, to fight if he must, but you intervene; calling out to the guards and shooing them away from him like flies. 

“yes, yes. i’m alright.” you brush off your dress, throwing sunghoon a deliberate smile over your shoulder. “just catching up with a friend.”

not one of your crew buy that for one second, but without any signs of a visible struggle (and your own word), sunghoon knows that they can’t put a single finger on him. he smirks to himself, the power surge pumping hot in his veins. 

your crew are about to usher you back outside – sunghoon picking up scattered murmurs, one of which being that a few fans were arrested – but the circle halts with you as you spin on your heel, weaving through your staff and standing in front of sunghoon like everyone in this room isn’t watching. 

his heart beats like a rabid hare thumping its foot, head light and airy from the adrenaline. 

you reach for his fingers, lacing them with yours gently, and sunghoon catches your staff bracing themselves behind. you pay them no mind. 

“i’ll see you in sydney?” you smile. not one of your practiced or artificial ones – genuine. a bright ray of light to warm him and only him. 

sunghoon melts. he nods, pulse frenzied under the swipe of your thumb on his wrist. like hell he wouldn’t be there.

your smile splits even wider into your cheeks, eyes sparkling. 

“it’s a date then.”

—

following his impulsive stunt at the airport, sunghoon only narrowly avoided arrest, which he suspects is because of your own interference. he’s still able to catch the flight directly after yours and follow you en route to australia. 

which– well, you came onto him, so what law was really broken on his part? none that seemed to bother you too much, seeing as you were more than happy to shove his cock in your mouth.

sunghoon hasn’t washed since. he doesn’t want to scrub off the traces of your saliva, doesn’t want to smother your touch with his own; knowing it couldn’t begin to compare. he could almost cry from the pain of his boners when replaying the memory, but he refuses to relieve it himself. 

riding on that extreme high, sunghoon has the confidence to text your number. he bought it from some staff members ages ago but couldn’t find the words to strike up a conversation, one that’d catch your eye among all the other fans choking up your private messages. 

typing out and backspacing for what might’ve been hours, sunghoon settles on literally just stating his name and a simple hello. 

he doesn’t think he needs any more than that, really. you already remembered his face, name, the penguin he crocheted – and sucked him off – so you’re well acquainted at this point. 

he may as well just ask you out, right? he knows for a fact that you’re not exactly handing out blowjobs like candy for fans. you have self-respect, you’re a romantic at heart. you wouldn’t just.. throw yourself at anyone, not if it didn’t mean something. right? 

he’s known you’re the one for him, only one all these years – and it seems just getting you in a room alone is how it clicked for you, too. 

strung along by red twine, dancing around your fate at concerts and events – then pulled as if on a leash, until you were on your knees and wrapping your mouth around him. 

sunghoon stuffs his face in his hands as it burns red, rolling around in the hotel bed and giggling to himself. fuck, what a slowburn. such a damn tease. you like the chase, huh? you like seeing him lose his fucking mind, pining after you? 

at the sudden ding of his phone, he rises upright in bed like a vampire and swipes the device from his side table – heart palpitations revving up like a harley as he reads your name in the notification. 

you actually answered. 

not a question on how he got your number, or why he locked you in that room, or what he even wants from you. you happily greet him right back. ask about his flight, if he’s settled in alright. 

and then you just… talk. like real people do. 

naturally, he’s got access to your schedule, so he knows how impossibly busy you’ll be within the day, every hour accounted for leading up to the concert. but you still find time to text him back, to engage in conversation and inquire about how he’s doing like the absolute sweetheart you are. you get to know him, really know him, outside of just the devilishly handsome guy who’s made your music his entire personality. you don’t talk a whole lot about yourself – but all of it goes without saying. sunghoon already knows everything there is to know about you except for what goes on in your actual brain.

you seem.. bored, almost. like he’s the most interesting thing you’ve got going on, as a world famous popstar. conversations turning dull when he asks about your life off the clock – but you’ll light right up when you’re talking about him. asking about his hobbies and his schooling and his parents.

each word sunghoon trades with you feels like he’s boiling alive and then dipped in ice water. it’s startling how it all feels so natural, flowing and blooming into something genuine. sunghoon would have you in any way he’d be lucky enough to get – as in sick with fear or scathing with hatred – but he’s not equipped to understanding what it actually is. you’re giving him your time because you get along, and you think he’s hot and you laugh at his jokes. 

you never mention how he’s followed you across the globe, how he’s always there as an audience when you’re performing or when you’re not even working. but, then again, you also might not even care. considering you’re still chatting him up over text despite it all when you could’ve just.. let the authorities deal with him. 

the day of your concert, sunghoon arrives to camp outside of the stadium before the sun’s even up. he’s joined by some familiar faces (jake among them, who flips him off and doesn’t acknowledge him again) while waiting through the sweltering southern heat, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for you to text him back in fleeting increments throughout the day. 

he never doubted it, but sunghoon’s amazed by how he keeps falling even deeper in love with you. it’s like you couldn’t give less of a fuck about who he is and what he does – about who you are and why you shouldn’t even be allowing him space in your life. 

but circumstances can be damned where fate is concerned. 

in the end, it’s you and him. 

it’s like heaven’s gates parting when the crowd’s finally allowed inside the venue, sunghoon rushing in for his rightful spot at the barricade. time crawls by painstakingly slow, bodies packed in like sardines and overlapping voices like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. the hours are punctuated with a reply or two from you, and the bliss is enough to get him through the wait. right up until you text him that you’re nervous, he wishes you good luck, and within the next minute you’re raised up onto the stage via platform for the soundcheck. 

your eyes find sunghoon in an instant. you trade big, cheesy grins like two puppies in love – confused whispers and jealous glares rolling through the crowd. 

you go about performing as usual, singing an interesting choice of tracks, on the spicier side of your discography. you even make it a point to dance a little for him, standing on the edge of the stage to give him an upskirt view – even checking if he’s looking with a cheeky smile. his cock throbs where it’s pressed into the railing, the cold metal ineffective in deterring it. god, he’s fucking crazy about you. 

when the soundcheck comes to a torturous end, you throw sunghoon a wink, holding his heated stare as you disappear below the stage. 

well. after all that he thinks he needs a good fucking wank. 

he’s so dazed in his own little world, sunghoon doesn’t even register the crowd parting behind him – not until he’s being grabbed on the shoulder, a gruff male voice low in his ear. 

a security guard roughly spins him around, leading him out of the pit, his beloved barricade spot being filled within the next second. sunghoon can’t even bring himself to feel pissed off at the loss of his view or at the smug grins of jealous motherfuckers in the crowd – not when his heart sinks below his feet and his mind spins at a mile a minute as the guard pushes him through various dark corners and empty corridors. 

did it all catch up to him? were you really fooling him? this is it, isn’t it? you were just building a case against him. you didn’t actually like him. 

pfft, who was he kidding? you’ve got the evidence ready, the police are actively waiting outside to take him away in cuffs. oh fuck he’s so stupid. he’s so fucking stupid. this is what he gets for giving his heart to a woman, a celebrity at that. you’d never want him. there’s no way he’s the first fan you’ve done this with. he’s just a placeholder. you think you’re too good for him. you–

“sunghoon!” 

the sound of your voice slices through his racing thoughts. the sight of your face hits him like an arrow to the chest, his thumper heart threatening to leap from his ribs. 

you coo out something to him he can’t quite catch over the ringing in his ears – followed by a flick of your wrist to direct the security guard back out the door they came from. 

you’re still dressed in the soundcheck outfit, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes your skin appear as if glowing, cloying in the air with a faint perfume. he thinks you’ve never looked prettier like this, out of breath and clammy; perceiving you without the filter of that perfectly curated idol image. 

you set down an empty bottle of water before pacing over, stopping just before him. barely one step and he could close this distance. is that what you want?

“hey,” you get his attention, regarding him with such a soft smile that he nearly drops to his knees right then. “how was it?” 

“good–” he answers plainly before stepping to you, leaving no time to react before both of his hands are swallowing either side of your waist. your breath hitches as he tugs you in, pressing himself flush against your front. “–you do this type of fan service often?” he grits out, locking much harsher words behind his teeth. 

“what?” you stare cluelessly with big lost eyes, gasping when his fingers dig in until his nails sting your flesh. 

“i can’t be the only one, right? fuck, i’m so dumb.” he chuckles bitterly to himself. “you trying to get more money out of me? or is this some kind of sick fun to you?” sunghoon shakes you in his arms, riling himself up more by the second. “huh? you enjoy leading your fans on?? tell me honestly please, don’t treat me like an idiot any more.”

“no.” you say, so firmly that it actually takes him aback. “i’d be in more trouble than you if anyone–”

sunghoon laughs, laughs at how absurd this situation is. how he’s wished and prayed for a chance to have you this close and now all he can feel is rage. his hand flies up to your hair, tugging your head back – the startled noise you let out going straight to his stiffening cock. 

“you’re a slut, then? you let your fans use you so they keep coming back?” he pouts dramatically at you, before bearing his canines in a grin. “or are you hoping that we’ll leave you alone?”

the slope of your neck bobs with a gulp, his eyes tracking the movement. “i let you, because i like you.”

you watch his eyes flit rapidly over your face, searching desperately for any sign that you’re lying, playing him like a fool again. 

“bet you tell them all that.” he huffs, not buying it for a second. “bet they all fall for it too.”

“there is no–” you scrunch your face when his fist curls tighter in your hair, letting out a noise that sounds nothing like frustration or fear. he could almost think that you’re.. 

“hoon.” you say sternly, the nickname catching him off-guard. his heart would almost swell over it if he wasn’t so close to ripping your fucking hair out in jealousy. “there is nobody else. i’ve been texting you because i want to. i asked my guard to bring you here so i could see you. god, i blew you at an airport! i’ve never even..”

you sigh, exasperated, and the pieces finally slide into place for sunghoon. they click slowly, even reluctantly, since the circumstances really are this hard to believe. 

“you mean it?..” he mutters, fingers loosening in your strands. 

“yes, of course i do.” testing the waters, your palms run up his chest to hold his cheeks with a featherlight touch, and sunghoon melts into it. “i see you all the time, and i’ve always wanted to get to know you more. but what could i do? nothing from my position.”

you want love, just like him. you want him, just like he wants you. 

you don’t care about his intentions when he dragged you from your staff and locked you in a room. you don’t even care that he followed you all the way here from korea. you don’t give a single shit that he pays off your staff to provide him enough private info to warrant a lawsuit. 

“you want me?” 

“of course i do.” you echo, thumbs brushing tenderly across the pale of his cheek. 

he licks his lips, anticipation and something more sinister bubbling in his blood, heating up his body. “say it.” 

“i want you.” 

sunghoon nearly moans hearing it from your mouth, his cock filling out his pants eagerly. he gives another tug on your hair, and his suspicions are confirmed when you whine. you like the pain. or do you just like being treated this way?

“do you now?” he says nearly mockingly, swiping his thumb across the plush of your lip to contrast the sting. you respond keenly: lips sealing around his thumb, dabbing your tongue on the skin. sunghoon curses lowly, breath growing heavier, and when you start to suck he has to pull away.  

only to replace his hand with his mouth as he captures yours in a kiss. there’s no patience in it – one second in and already he needs more, tilting your head by the hair as he shoves his tongue in. licking against yours roughly, palate filling with your saliva, cock twitching as he tastes every corner of your mouth. 

you ball fists in his shirt, whimpering quietly at how harshly he’s kissing you, how he’ll slightly pull your hair like a reminder. you just take it, better yet – you give back. you slide your tongue with his, rolling your hips into his body and earning a bite on your lower lip. you whine from the shock and sunghoon parts with you, tutting. 

“you trying to piss me off?” he huffs out, stilling you by the waist with his free hand. you’re treading a fine fucking line of his self-control right now. if you’re not careful, he might really lose it. and he doesn’t want to hurt you – unless you want that. fuck. his cock pulses just considering it, and of course you felt it, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

“do your worst.” you tell him, intentionally bucking your pelvis forward to rub against his boner. he feels the heat of you even through the fabric, and sunghoon heaves a gasp, every nerve in his body screaming to throw you to the ground and just take you. 

there comes that fucking nickname again, “hoon”, needily whined against his earlobe – and you could hear a pin drop in the brief silence that follows, before his lips are smothering yours so desperately that his teeth scrape your gums, hands gripping impossibly tighter as he backs you into the closest wall. 

sunghoon nearly shoves your body against it, kindness forgotten with his brain tuned into one sole purpose. he kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, palm trailing down the side of your body, stopping only to grope your breast here or squeeze your curves there. if he wasn’t so fired up, he’d take his time with you. kiss every inch of your body and draw out the pleasure. his cock is begging him for otherwise though. 

he reaches a hand under this fucking skirt that’s burned into the deepest pit of his memories – and you moan in tandem when sunghoon’s fingers press into your panties, the fabric dipping where it’s soaked in your arousal. he has to remind himself to breathe as he runs his fingertips over the thin cotton, feeling each ridge from how it’s stuck to your cunt in arousal. 

he slides a finger past the soiled fabric, dipping into the hot arousal pooled at your hole. his length pulses where it’s pressed into the meat of your thigh. sucking in a breath, sunghoon trudges past his own need as he gathers your slick on his index and middle, dragging the fingers up your folds. you shiver when he grazes your clit, melting into the prettiest whine as his fingers draws digit eights on the bundle of nerves. 

with his hand focused on your clit, sunghoon busies his mouth when he latches it to your neck, smirk pressed into your skin with how you throb under his fingers in response. sunghoon runs his tongue over the juncture between your neck and shoulder, littering the skin with nips of his teeth and sucks of his mouth – leaving the mark of his presence in hickeys and bites. he laves at the salty sheen of sweat coating your body, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tastes you in yet another way. 

on that thought, he rotates his hand; thumb replacing the fingers on your clit with firm swipes, his index and middle breaching past your hole and curling up to make you see stars. 

you’re unintelligible as he fucks you on his fingers, head lolled back into the wall as he ravages the slope of your neck, clenching down so perfectly he damn nearly cums just wondering how it’d feel wrapped around his cock. 

“shit,” he groans as he presses particularly hard into your g-spot, feeling how tightly you wrapped around the digits as if on command. he rips his hand from your cunt suddenly, and you gasp at the sound of fabric tearing when he pulls your panties further to the side. 

sunghoon licks at his fingers just so he can taste you down there too, your slick sweet on his palate. though it only serves to snap the last shred of his resolve, and before either of you know it he’s ripping his pants open so quick that the button flies to the floor – cock bobbing free and pressed to your cunt within the next second.

sunghoon lets out a sob, vision whiting out from how unbelievable you feel against him: your hole twitching where he’s just barely pressing his tip, a mix of your arousal and his pre running down his length. he bucks his pelvis slightly, cock rubbing through your wet folds. his tip nudges your clit and you both just tremble.

it takes everything in him and then some to not just thrust in and pound you like a dog in heat. 

sunghoon tries to gather the words to ask for your permission, but all that leaves him is a hoarse exhale, cock pulsing where it’s buried between your folds. you snap him out of the daze when a hand comes to wraps around his bicep, preparing to ground yourself. 

“i want it in,” you ask so nicely, batting your lashes at the man heaving like a beast before you. “please?” 

that word singlehandedly airs out every thought left in his brain. sunghoon doesn’t even think, just acts as he snaps his pelvis and splits your pussy on his cock. one swift movement and he’s buried all the way in; balls pressed to your ass, body slumped against yours as you barely keep yourself upright. 

you’re both a mess, arms wrapping around each other as an anchor, bodies pressed so tight your heartbeats start to hammer as one. sunghoon grinds forward, soiling his balls in the dripping arousal as he attempts to gently stretch you out. for your comfort, and for his own dignity, so he doesn’t cum right the fuck now. he knows he should’ve prepped you more, but he might have died from blood loss if he didn’t give attention to his raging boner for any longer. 

although.. you’ve got a death grip around his cock. sunghoon usually jerks off hard and fast with a fist clenched so tight that it hurts, and still he can’t do anything but direct his own breathing as your cunt adjusts to his size. in and out, in and out.. 

fuck.

“fuck!” sunghoon cries out as he gives a quick thrust, barely even pulling out before sinking deeper, tip nudging your cervix as you gasp a moan. “f-fuck, fuck–” his hips stutter before they find a pace, bracing his hands on the wall behind as he drives his cock into you over and over. 

your knuckles turn white where they’re holding onto his back for dear life, he’s sure to find tracks of scratches across the muscles tomorrow. yet he can’t even feel the sting over your pussy sucking him in – perfect. so perfect in how you flutter around his length with each thrust, your pretty whimpers and cries as he rams into your g-spot every time.

“god– you..you’re taking it!”

you babble out something that might be a reply, trembling fingers reaching for his neck to hold his face close. his chest twists with pure love for you. everything he’s done in your name, it paid off. it surmounted to this. you let him in, and now he’ll give you his blood. 

“let me?” sunghoon pleads in a broken voice, hanging on by the thinnest thread as he pounds you into the wall, his lower belly coiled dangerously tight. he wants to cum inside you so bad. he wants to ruin you for anyone else. “let me, pleasepleaseplease–”

“yes, yes!” you plead right back, mouth falling open as he picks up to an animalistic speed. 

a few good thrusts later and sunghoon’s spilling inside you, pace undeterred as he focuses on fucking as deep as possible inside you. cockhead dribbling warm ropes of cum into the bump of your cervix. 

sunghoon slumps all of his weight onto yours as he chases his breaths, still nestled deep inside and groaning with each pulse of his cock. the comedown leaves him in some halfway point between heaven; bliss floating through his veins, a smile carved deep onto his lips. 

this time, he pinches himself to check – and when he blinks, it all stays right where it was. 

even in your state, you catch the gesture and breathe out a laugh, too exhausted to get the noise out. your knuckles run over his forearms, wondering when he’ll start to soften inside you. 

sunghoon starts to kiss your neck again, and you have the realisation that he intends to keep going. you push him off you gently, reaching down to slip his still-hard cock out. 

“as much as i don’t want to, i need to get back to work.” you remind him, your concert still very much looming on the evening. 

sunghoon grimaces like the fact personally offends him – though he’s not sulking for long as he watches you pull him out and then tug your underwear back in place with one quick motion, soiling the fabric as his cum stuffs your cunt. 

“i’m sorry about your spot,” you say, tenderly cupping his cheek and giving him soft eyes. “my staff know who you are now, and they could escort you to the private box?” 

sunghoon nods, smiling stretching even wider, flashing his canines. he doesn’t need to prove he’s not a threat – you know, and you don’t care. 

you brush your skirt down back into place. “i’ll see you after the send-off wraps up?” 

you don’t have to tell him where you’ll be. the place that your staff picked out for post-show dinner and drinks. he already paid to know that. and you’d know this too. 

but you don’t mention it as you leave him with a sweet kiss on the lips. in fact, he doesn’t think you ever will. 

—

sunghoon didn’t know he had this much love in his body. all the blood that keeps his heart beating isn’t close to enough for what he wishes to give to you. his girlfriend. his world famous, popstar, funny and talented and gorgeously perfect girlfriend. ever since he first called you that he just can’t stop saying it. 

sunghoon has a sort of notoriety now within his community of your fandom. he went silent following the infamous airport stunt and the guard pulling him from the sydney pit – and a few photos with someone resembling him at the after-show dinner had made the rounds around fans with insider connections. it was all kept very hush-hush, hadn’t made it to any outlets thank god. out of jealousy, he assumes. he made it and they didn’t. 

you’ve fully opened yourselves to each other, much like normal couples do. he promised to leave that life behind for good, and feels immense shame for everything he did leading up to dating you. 

and, cross his heart, he does. but after years of chasing this exact goal, he can’t but feel a thousandfold more obsessed with you. his girlfriend. you’re still his entire purpose in life. he gave up everyone else in his life who wasn’t you, so when you’re too busy with work to listen to him ranting on and on about how much he adores you, who else is he meant to turn to?

Anonymous posted: We all know that y/n’s been dating lately. With the way she limps on stage, I bet she lets her boyfriend fuck her right before she goes on. He cums inside her, stuffs her full and puts her panties right back on so it’s all sealed tight inside. Performing and dancing around for the crowd with her man’s cum still hot in her pussy. 

smooothoperator: shit that sounds so hot

heesung64: I’d kill to be her boyfriend and do that everyday

doggystyle02: fuck you i know exactly who this is. fuck off and die

with an exhale, smoke pours from your nostrils as you pass the blunt back to jay, who mutters a “cheers, beautiful.”

warmth flooded your skin, the high settling in and weighing on your eyelids. maybe it was just the weed, but you hadn’t missed the way jake’s eyes had been locked onto you ever since the blunt got lit.

he averted his gaze whenever your boyfriend reared his head, of course. save himself an earful. but jay’s tight arm around your waist did nothing to deter his beloved best friend from the blatant staring.

you sinked further into the leather couch, finding comfort in laying your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder. when you check jake again, your eyes meet.

shamelessly, he made a show of trailing his eyes down your body, lingering on your tits.

whatever the fuck he thought he was doing, your brain was too fuzzy to give a shit about.

maybe jake had really rolled some horny goat weed for you all to smoke, since your boyfriend was planting featherlight kisses to your temple that quickly escalated to ravaging your neck. he had a rough grip around you, fingers digging divots into your waist as if he was aware the boy on the other end was watching. or maybe you were just thinking that.

dazed, you didn’t even realise you were leaning backwards from the force of jay’s kisses; contacting what you assumed was the couch until you felt a third hand on you.

you craned your neck as best you could at jake while jay was going to town on your clavicle. jake had a careful hand on your thigh, rubbing circles into the skin with a touch so soft you could’ve been imagining it.

were they both planning to fuck you?.. the thought floated through your head.

as jay pulled your face into a greedy kiss, jake inched closer. you felt his nose poke at your ear as you kissed your boyfriend back. jake’s lips brushed against the lobe, and he sighed, sending shivers across your skin.

then jay fell back and stole you away, pulling you to lay top of his body. he slid his hands under your shirt and palmed at the flesh, unabashedly making out with you as if jake had already seen himself out. he hadn’t, in fact.

you were too high, on the weed in your system and jay’s tongue in your mouth, to care. long limbs tangled with yours. you felt hot everywhere, and was that dampness your own? hands, so many hands, feeling you up and down all over. jay’s, jake’s, you couldn’t tell them apart.

you hadn’t realised you even fell asleep until you came to in the dark. all three of you had passed out sprawled across the couch. lifting your head, you identified your cushion as jay’s thighs. you then inspected your lower half — occupied by none other than jake, arms wrapped around your waist with his face in your back.

you were pressed close, way closer than you and your own boyfriend were laying. how had it come to this? surely you didn’t wriggle your way here on your own and in your sleep.

you try to get up, but jake’s arms pull you to lay flush against him. even through his hoodie, his body’s burning hot. he heaves a deep breath into your ear.

“mm, where are you going?”

“jake..” just as you began to wonder what he wanted, you felt it. you knew exactly what he wanted as it pressed into your ass — right where he had pulled you to align with him.

“stay here with me.” he whined, his hands creeping down your shirt, one daring to slip underneath and ghost across your bare stomach.

“jay—” you started, reminding him just where you both were.

“—i won’t tell if you don’t.” he chirped in.

a sudden snore from jay was like an encouragement. he wasn’t going to know.

your mind was betraying you. but, it was hard to think of anything other than jake’s palm gently cupping your breast and his boner digging hard into you.

“jake, no.” you had hoped the word was enough. you couldn’t move in fear of waking jay up.

“baby,” he cooed, bucking his hips slightly, letting the warmth dig deeper into your ass. against your better judgment, your pussy pulses at the contact. his other hand slid up to hold your face. “please, can’t you feel how bad i need it?”

”you’ve got a hand,” you hiss before abruptly getting up off the couch.

jay stammered awake, disoriented. you beelined for the bathroom without so much as a glance back.

door shut and locked behind you, you washed your hands, avoiding eye contact with your reflection. if you looked at yourself, you’d probably find SLUT written across the mirror. what the fuck was that? the best friend of your boyfriend was just all over you, and you didn’t recoil? you didn’t even flinch?

even with the disgust settling in your stomach, there was something hot unfurling there too — a bolt of rush coursing through your blood. your brain knows it’s wrong, but your body was reacting in all the right ways.

maybe jake’s just worked up and latching onto the closest person he can, you reason. you and jay did disregard his presence during your tonsil hockey earlier.

you settle on pretending nothing happened. for his sake and for your own sanity.

that thought hightails as you turn the doorknob, where the door’s barely ajar before jake barged in like a dog waiting for its owner. you stumbled back as he slid in, swiftly locking the door behind him.

he whistled, biting his nails and scanning his eyes up and down your body. “waiting for me?”

“fuck off.”

you moved to walk past him, but he simply catches you in his arms like he’s got all the right to, furrowing his brows like you’re the one not thinking straight.

he pulls you as close as physically possible, one hand cupping your jaw, the other at your back keeping you stationary. you writhe against his grip, though it doesn’t come naturally.

“i’ve wanted you so fucking bad.” he sighs. a hand falls to your ass, staying there. you force yourself to not melt into his touch.

“jay is your best friend.”

“hmm, what about it?” he dismisses it like you’re just telling him the weather. he trails kisses along your jawline, nipping at the part of your earlobe he sighed onto earlier. you almost whimper at the sensitivity, skin alight with goosebumps.

“we’re not doing this, jake.” you grimace, the words tasting foul like your mouth knows they’re a lie.

“already are, babe.” he says with that big, dumb puppy smile as he tilts your chin up to face him.

his hand on your ass squeezes as he pulls you flush against him, shameless in rubbing his length over the front of your crotch. a gasp slips from your mouth as you now realise the sheer size of him.

the air was almost thick and hard to breathe with how palpable his desire was; how he was smiling like he won the lottery with pupils dilated to the max.

testing the waters, jake’s thumb swiped across your bottom lip, your mouth parting open as if on instinct.

you felt your body surrendering against your better judgement as his thumb slid onto your tongue. instead of flinching from his touch, you were leaning in, like this was natural for you two. like you were made to fit together like this.

you closed your lips around his thumb and sucked lightly. jake let out a deep sound from his throat, and you could’ve sworn you felt a twitch from his cock.

he muttered a ‘fuck’ before he pulled his hand away and collided mouth with yours at lightning speed, tongue roughly delving in.

you moaned — against your fucking will, you moan and he’s pulling you in, his pelvis jolting into you. you don’t know why but you’re kissing him back, and you’re both sloppy and breathless and it’s so fucking hot.

your high is over, why the fuck were you doing this again? your boyfriend’s outside — god, was he even back to sleep?

you pulled away, the sudden movement causing almost a whine to slip from jake’s open mouth.

“we really shouldn’t do this, jake.”

“baby, come on.” he drawls, sliding his hands up your body, into your shirt. “you want this too, don’t you? just let me.”

you didn’t realise he was guiding you back until your backside made contact with the bathroom counter. jake leaned his weight onto you, his erection a sharp reminder. he slipped a knee between your legs, digging into your core. you bit your lip to stifle the noise that nearly left you.

you closed your eyes, craning your neck up to the ceiling. the exposure allowed jake to plant soft kisses on your neck.

behind your eyelids, you pictured jay. memories flashing of his territorial tendencies: cursing jake out for standing too close, for staring too long.

“why you looking at my lady like you wanna snatch her, bro?!”

“jay, leave it alone.”

and this asshole still found ways around it. the dots were connecting: those not-so-accidental brushes of his hands. how when you looked at him, he was always looking first. the heavy weight of eyes on you when you bent over or stretched, when your boyfriend wasn’t in the room.

you hadn’t been around him enough to think of it as anything. maybe jay was always on guard for good reason.

the wet pop of jake’s mouth coming off of sucking your neck was the clear indicator of why.

with hands on his chest you softly pushed him away. something flickered across his glazed eyes. it almost made your knees buckle. he looked like he was about to fucking starve to death and you felt a pang of remorse, of wanting to relieve his ache.

your head was spinning from the comedown, breaths coming heavy as jake just watches and waits. cautiously, you met his gaze again, where he catches your faltering certainty and sprints with it.

“i can be quick,” jake reassures you, cupping your cheek. he presses a hard (what was meant to be fleeting) kiss to your lips. though, his dick gets the better of his thinking, and he’s parting your mouth open with his own again.

he finally stops himself with a chuckle. “i won’t last, since i’ve wanted this for so long.”

“did you just want to fuck me from the start?” your voice delivered a tad shaky from the realisation of it all. he was eyeing his best friend’s girlfriend the whole time, and jay must’ve known it too. this was his biggest fear come alive.

“you should be mine instead.” he said breathlessly. his hands wildly roamed over your curves, covering any surface jay possibly could’ve touched before. he was leaving his mark — the hickey blooming on your neck already a stamp of his presence. “let me show you?”

you whimpered his name. it was so, so wrong. and his touch felt so fucking right. the tension was going to crush you alive.

suddenly, everything outside of this room could get fucked — jake was here, and you needed him in you now.

your voice was so soft, the ‘please’ from your mouth barely a noise. but from the pant that left his lips — he heard it. and then he was all over you.

his movements happened in a flurry. his mouth was bruising yours from the force of his kisses. you squealed when he groped your cunt through your pants. he then wasted no time pulling those to your ankles.

“fuuuck, baby.” he bit his lip, eyes trained on your cunt. his hands on the back of your thighs lifted you up to sit on the bathroom counter. his haste to fuck you had you soaked.

he started palming himself through his pants, panting just at the sight of you bare and glistening with arousal.

he fell to his knees. “shit— sorry, i’ll get to it. i just—” he shut himself up by latching his mouth onto your pussy, and you could’ve screamed from the contact.

you bite your bottom lip so you don’t, else jay would come and break down the door.

his mouth lapped at you in a frenzy, covering every inch of you in his saliva. you were already pulsing under his tongue and he felt it when he slipped two fingers into your aching core.

your hands flew out to his hair as he filled you up, and a satisfied moan rumbles on your cunt.

“fuck yeah, pull my hair.” he moans around your clit, closing his lips to suck hard. you pull until it must hurt, channeling your frustration about how fucked this is and how wet you are in spite of it.

you dared to look down at him — of course, he was already looking first — and you caught his hand underneath his waistband, pumping himself to the speed of his fingers.

he curled them inside you over and over without mercy while he ate you out like a crazed dog, beckoning your orgasm out of you whether you wanted it or not.

there was a taut rubber band deep inside you on the verge of snapping. whines spilled out from the lip between your teeth, though keeping quiet was an afterthought when jake had you so close in record time.

the cold air hitting your cunt made you shiver when he pulled away abruptly, standinh to his feet.

“god, shit. you get this wet for him?”

pre-cum had made a pool at the front of his pants. his leaking cock sprung free when he yanked the band down. he hooked his arms under your knees and pulled you close — tip prodding at your entrance. you could only whimper.

“what’s that, baby? he never eat you out like i do?” he slings you legs over his shoulders, letting his cock drift lazily over your clit.

“jake, please—” please stop asking about my boyfriend. please don’t stop what you’re doing.

your pussy splits open when he pushes in. his rough kiss to your lips barely smothers the moan that escapes. once he bottoms out, he graces you with just a moment to adjust to his shape before he’s pulling out and snapping back in.

he sets an unrelenting pace, and your head lolls back as he fucks you like he’s trying to mould your insides to the shape of his cock.

one hand hooks a thumb under your shirt and lifts it to expose your tits, watching them bounce with each of his frenzied thrusts. his palm comes to rest tight around your neck, keeping your head firm against the wall.

“baby, fuck, taking me so fucking good.” his eyes were wild, pupils blown wider than you’d ever seen when he was high. “fuck, kiss me—”

you did. his and your moans were mixing together in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. he pressed your sweaty foreheads together, lowering a hand to rub circles around your clit. you cried out, feeling the balloon inside you on the verge of popping.

“tell me you’re mine.”

you couldn’t even think of who or whatever existed outside of the room — your only thoughts were consumed entirely with jake, jake, jake.

you whined the magic words to him, and he rammed you to your shared release, his fingers rubbing in tune with your pretty voice whining that you’re all his.

he doesn’t even ask before he’s shooting his cum inside of you, pushing even deeper and spurting more with each pulse of your pussy around him. he doesn’t pull out until he’s certain you’ve emptied him for all he’s worth.

you both slumped together, boneless and sweat-ridden. head resting on each other’s shoulders as you caught your breath in the suddenly too quiet bathroom.

in the hazy post-sex clarity, you became acutely aware of the noise from the last few minutes, as well as the fact that you’re actually not jake’s.

your train of thought was broken when he caresses the small of your back, softly rubbing the aches out with his knuckles.

“knew i could get you,” he chuckles fondly like he didn’t just wreck the fuck out of hie best friend’s home, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “this pussy’s mine from now on, yeah?”

you nod shakily — but you were completely unprepared to look your boyfriend (ex?) in the eye when that door inevitably opened.

jake just kisses you sweetly, his face splitting in a smile full of affection. “that’s my girl.”

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unprotected sex, gangbang, squirting, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), marathon sex (kinda), creampie, double vaginal penetration, spitting, face/throat fucking, let me know if i missed any.

The September air was still thick with the residual heat of summer but the breeze cutting through the quad was already carrying the first sharp hint of the ice that would soon define your semester. Two weeks into freshman year and the campus already felt smaller than the brochures had promised. In all honesty you felt suffocated by the weight of a legacy neither you nor Zoya could escape.

Zoya walked beside you, constantly twisting her fingers in the strap of her bag. "I haven't slept in like three days," she admitted in a strained voice. "Tryouts are next week and I swear I can feel my heart in my throat every time I see a pair of skates."

"Zoya, breathe," you said. "You've been training for this since we were six. You're more prepared than anyone else in that rink. Stop stressing."

Your friendship with Zoya was a constant bond forged long before you understood what a legacy even meant. Your mothers had met in the very halls of this university, dressed in the same blue and white uniforms you were now expected to fill. You had spent your childhood in the back of dance studios and cold arena bleachers, two shadows following the footsteps of women who had once been part of the university's most celebrated icons.

"I don't know how you're so calm," she glanced at you. "If I don't make the cut, my mom might actually disown me. Your mom isn't exactly going to be thrilled if you aren't on that roster, either."

You shrugged, feeling like the weight of the expectation had just become a dull ache you'd simply learned to live with. "I'm sure she'll manage. Besides, it's just a team. There are more important things than whether or not we look good in sequins and skates."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered as you both found a stone table in the quad, sitting next to each other while the noise of the campus humming around you. "They only take five girls each year. Five."

"Because they have to maintain the twenty girl balance, Zoy," you countered, squinting against the sun. "Five seniors graduated so they need five new freshman and you can only try out in your first year. It's simple math, not a conspiracy. It's no biggie."

Zoya went quiet then, her expression shifting from nervous to something more focused. She leaned into your space and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to pay attention.

"Have you heard the gist lately? In the dorms?" she asked. "It's not just about who's the best skater anymore. Everyone is talking about the tradition. The real one."

You felt an internal groan. "That rumor? Again?"

"They say the hockey team picks one girl from the five new recruits," she said with her eyes wide and dead serious. "One girl who has to give it up at the tryouts welcome party. That it's a requirement. A gangbang for the guys who run the rink."

You rolled your eyes and let a sharp, dismissive sound escape your throat. "Zoya, please. That is the most tired, misogynistic urban legend on this campus. It's locker room bullshit meant to scare us or make the guys feel like they have more power than they actually do. It's just a rumor. Stop letting it get in your head."

"Like for fucks sake. Am I meant to be excited at the thought of a bunch of guys fucking me?"

But Zoya didn't back down, if anything she just leaned into closer, darting her eyes around as if the very trees were wired. "I'm serious! It's not just some ghost story, I'm telling you. My roommate's cousin's TA has a niece who was the girl they picked last year."

You stopped mid sip of your drink and lowered it to look at her with mocking disappointment. You let the silence hang for a beat too long just so she could sit with what she just said, then you started repeating her words back to her, dripping your voice with deliberate sarcasm.

"So...let me get this straight," you began ticking the points off on your fingers. "Your roommate's...cousin's...TA's...niece?" You asked her and watched her resolve start to crumble at the corners of her mouth as the absurdity of the so called source finally hit the air.

"When you put it like that, it sounds—"

"It sounds like a game of telephone or Chinese whisper played by people who have spent way too much time inhaling zamboni fumes," you finished for her.

She let out a frustrated whine while reaching to grab your shoulders. "Shut up! You're so mean!" she laughed and started to shake you back and forth. Her grip was firm as she swung your body in rhythm with her protests. "Take me seriously! I'm trying to prepare us for potentially having to take dick!"

The physical drama of it was too much to resist, you really tried to keep your face stoic but the sight of Zoya looking so genuinely panicked over a fourth hand story about a TA's niece broke you. A bubble of laughter escaped and soon you were both giggling like the kids you used to be.

The week of tryouts had been a blur of synthetic light and the rhythmic scrape of steel on ice. For Zoya, it was a slow motion descent into madness, she was a whirlwind of nervous energy in the locker room, retying her laces until her fingertips were raw and changing her skates three separate times because she convinced herself the blades weren’t right. You had watched her from the bench, already laced up and ready, trying to offer a calm anchor in her storm of superstition.

When your turn finally came, you didn't really overthink it. You moved through the routines you'd practiced since you were tall enough to reach the rink boards, you remembered all the crossovers, the synchronized lunges, the power pulls. It was muscle memory at this point or a birthright clicking into place. To you, it wasn't a performance—it was more of another day at the office.

Now, a week later, the tension had migrated from the ice to the stifling atmosphere of Zoya's dorm room. You were sitting criss cross on her bed while your phones sat like two ticking time bombs on the mattress between you.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Zoya whispered, staring at the dark screens. "If I don't see an email in the next sixty seconds, I'm dropping out of college and moving to a farm."

"You hate dirt, Zoy. You'd last barely an hour," you muttered, trying to be calm even though your own pulse was beginning to thrum against your ribs.

Suddenly, both screens lit up simultaneously and two identical notifications from the university athletics department banner appeared.

Zoya shrieked, launching herself off the bed as if she'd been electrocuted. She paced the small rug with her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, don't open it yet. We do this together."

You picked up your phone, your hands shaking but still steadier than hers and stood to meet her in the center of the room. "On three?"

"On three," she breathed as her finger hovered over the screen.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

The light of the screens reflected in your eyes as you both scanned the text.

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the 2026 Ice Girls roster..."

"WE GOT IN!" Zoya screamed, the words overlapping with your own as you read the confirmation out loud. She tackled you back onto the bed, you didn't even get through the second sentence before the room exploded. You hit the mattress with a thud as her weight pinned you down, her face buried in your shoulder as she vibrated with pure, unadulterated adrenaline.

"We did it! We actually did it!" she shrieked into your ear, her joy was infectious enough to finally break through your cool exterior and you couldn't help it. It was like the tension of the last week finally evaporated into a fit of breathless giggles. You lay there on the bed, tangled in limbs and phones, laughing up at the ceiling while Zoya squeezed the life out of you. And for that one moment, the weight of your mother's expectations and the dark whispers of campus rumors felt miles away—eclipsed by the simple reality that you were officially in.

The calm excitement of the afternoon was short lived though, quickly replaced by hurricane Zoya in a state of social crisis. Your dorm room looked like a textile factory had exploded, there were clothes draped over your desk lamp and jeans strewn across your bed as she dove head first into your closet for the third time in twenty minutes. "The welcome party isn't just a party, Y/N," she muffled from behind a row of your hangers, her voice strained with the familiar, high pitched anxiety that always made you want to both hug her and laugh at her. "It's like a hierarchy. The hockey team is going to be there and the resident ice girls will be judging our every move. We can't just show up looking like we're headed to a late night study session in the library!"

You laid there on your bed, watching her with an amused tilt of your head. Zoya was always a perpetual mess of nerves, she was a beautiful disaster but you loved her to death for it. Her intensity was the only thing that could actually make you feel the weight of whatever was ahead.

"Have you actually seen the hockey team in person? Like up close?" she continued, finally surfacing with a grunt of frustration. "They’re not a human, they’re like filtered ai images come to life. And don't even get me started on Heeseung—the captain. If I have to stand next to him, I refuse to do it in a crewneck sweatshirt." She tossed one of your favorite oversized hoodies onto the floor with a look of annoyance. "Seriously? You have nothing sexy in here. It's all...functional."

"I was just going to go in what I have on now," you said, gesturing to your simple jeans and tee.

Zoya let out a gasp of such genuine horror you thought she'd actually been wounded. "No way, Y/N! You are not going to embarrass us! This is our debut!"

Before you could protest, she lunged for the overstuffed duffle bag she'd lugged over all the way from her own dorm and with a dramatic flourish, she hoisted it over both your heads and dumped the entire contents onto your bed. A mountain of lace, silk and leather tumbled out in a heap.

"Pick," she commanded, pointing at the pile with a manic twitch in her eye. "Pick right now or so help me God, I will pick for you and I promise you it will involve something tiny."

Giving in to the inevitable, you sighed and reached blindly into the middle of the mountain. Your fingers snagged onto the strap of a dress, so you pulled it out—a short, form fitting black dress with delicate straps and a neckline that was definitely lower than anything you owned.

Zoya's eyes went wide and her frantic energy instantly shifted into a predatory sort of pride. "Ooh...okay, okay! That one is hot," she purred, clapping her hands together. "The I don't care but I look incredible look. It's perfect. Go. Put it on. Eeek! I can’t wait, Y/N!"

You’re not surprised the party ends up being a far cry from the chaotic, floor shaking rages you'd been attending in the freshman dorms. This was something different, it was controlled and suffocatingly exclusive.

You let your eyes scan the room as you hoisted yourself up onto the kitchen island, slowly realizing the rumors about the inner circle weren't exaggerated. There were exactly twenty two hockey players and the twenty ice girls, including the five of you who had just been initiated. The air felt heavy with a specific kind of social politics you weren't sure you wanted to play. Zoya, however, was of course a natural and about twenty minutes ago, a guy with a sharp jawline and an observant gaze called Jungwon had detached himself from a group of upperclassmen and navigated the crowded living room with a focused sort of grace, landing right in front of Zoya.

"Was it a requirement for this year’s ice girls to be extra gorgeous?" he'd asked her with a voice smooth enough to make Zoya's usual nervous energy vanish into a flattered blush. He looked into her cup before speaking again, "Want to help me find something that isn't cheap beer?"

Zoya had glanced back at you, her eyes wide with a silent 'Is this okay?' question. You'd given her a small, reassuring nod, the green light she needed to finally enjoy the night she'd spent weeks stressing over.

Now, you were alone sat on the island while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up slightly as you adjusted your seat. The fabric was sleek and undeniably hot, as she'd put it but it didn't stop you from feeling like an outsider looking in.

Through the pulse of the music and the low hum of athletic egos clashing, your mind drifted toward your dorm. You could almost feel the weight of your oversized weighted duvet and the silence of your room. You were halfway through the mental calculation of how long you had to stay before an early morning excuse became socially acceptable, when the stool next to your legs slid back and the scent of expensive cologne hit you before he even spoke.

"You look remarkably bored for someone who just clawed their way onto the most exclusive team on campus," his voice came, all deep and smooth, holding a hint of a challenge.

You looked up and met a pair of intense eyes. He was striking with sharp angles and cool composure. Normally, you might have given a dry retort about the music volume but you caught sight of Zoya across the room, laughing at something Jungwon said. You knew her mentals would never recover if you started your tenure by being rude to one of the hockey gods.

"I’m just a bit tired," you said and forced your lips into a polite smile. "It's been a long week of skating."

He tilted his head and studied you a little as if he were reading a play. "Fair enough. I'm Jongseong but everyone just calls me Jay."

"Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Y/N" you replied. You were just about to settle into a rhythm of light banter when a second presence came crashing into your peripheral vision.

"And who is this cutie?"

The newcomer leaned against his palm with his elbow the marble counter, he was radiating a completely different energy from Jay, so warm and dangerously charming. He looked like the kind of guy that had never had a bad day in his life.

Jay didn't even glance at him, his dark eyes somehow stayed locked on yours and his voice dropped an octave as he answered for you. "Y/N," he said your name and made it sound like a claim and not like an introduction.

The new guy grinned, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Well, Y/N, I'm Jake. Huge congratulations on making the ice girls. That’s a big deal."

You offered an amused huff. "Thanks. Though I'm surprised you even know I'm new. I figured we all looked the same to you guys in those practice uniforms."

Jake let out a short laugh and shifted closer until he had his head nearly in your thighs. "Oh please," he murmured, letting his gaze travel over your face with a boldness that made the back of your neck heat up. "I would've spotted you months ago if you were already around. You're far too stunning to go unnoticed on this campus."

Before you could respond to Jake's blatant flirting, a third figure cut through the conversation. He didn't look at you, well at least not at first. He directed all his attention entirely to Jake. "Heeseung is looking for you," the newcomer said a little bit like a warning. "And he's already pissed. You were supposed let the delivery driver with the drinks in and now he’s gone…with the extra drinks."

Jake didn't look remotely intimidated, if anything he actually looked bored as he rolled his eyes and let his hair tickle your arm. "Heeseung gets pissed at everyone, Sunghoon. It's his default setting by now."

The name Heeseung had been floating around the dorms like a title of nobility for weeks but the way they spoke it made him sound like a force to be reckoned with. "Who exactly is Heeseung?" you cut in, managing to keep your voice steady despite the triple threat of hot guys surrounding you. "And should I be staying clear of him?"

That was the moment the new guy finally acknowledged you. His gaze drifted down and landed on you with a clinical kind of interest that felt like you were being scrutinized.

"He's our captain," Jake answered quickly, with a playful smirk returning to his lips. "And whether you stay clear of him or not isn't really up to you anymore, is it? You're an ice girl now."

"This is Sunghoon," Jake added, gesturing vaguely to the cold eyed newcomer.

Sunghoon didn't smile at you but the intensity of his stare softened just a fraction. "So, how does it feel? Being one of the chosen five?"

You opened your mouth to give a diplomatic, it's great response but your gaze snagged on a movement across the room, where Zoya was stood still with Jungwon distracted by the person he was talking to over her head. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you sat at the center of a triangle of hot guys.

She caught your eye and mouthed, "What the fuck?!" her expression was a blend of genuine horror and curios thrill.

You caught her eye and gave a subtle, helpless shrug, you didn't have an answer for her, damn—you didn't even have an answer for yourself. Ten minutes ago you were thinking about your bed and now, you’re the center of gravity for some sexy strangers.

Just as Jay was trying to pull you back into the conversation with a question about your major or something, a voice came from nowhere. "Jake. Come on, man. I told you to let the drinks guy in." The voice was low and authoritative, lacking any of the playful warmth the others had shown.

Heeseung didn't even look like a student in the best way possible, he looked like the architect of the entire room. His presence was heavy like a physical weight that made the banter from a moment ago feel suddenly juvenile. He didn't even acknowledge you, his eyes were fixed entirely on Jake with a look of tired discipline.

"He left and now we’re low on drinks," Heeseung added but Jake didn't miss a beat and instead of shrinking, he finally just placed his whole head in your lap as he flashed a boyish grin at his captain.

"Can you blame me, cap?" Jake countered, the tone was light but his eyes were dancing with a hint of challenge. "I was just doing my job. Making our newest recruit feel welcome. You wouldn't want the ice girls thinking we aren’t hospitable, would you?" He spoke as if you were the ultimate get out of jail free card.

Heeseung's eyes finally shifted, they traveled slowly from your face down to where your hands were resting in Jake's hair, then finally up to your face again. His eyes weren't hungry like Jake's or intense like Jay's, they were just insanely observant, tracing your features quietly in a way that made your breath scatter.

He let out a long sigh and you could see the tension in his jaw flicker for just a second before he looked back at the three guys flanking you.

"Of course," He said. "I should have known. You three always did have a habit of gravitating toward the prettiest girl in the room."

He stepped closer and invaded the space the others had already carved out, letting his shadow fall over you. "The problem is," he said, shifting his eyes to lock onto yours with a finality that made the myth Zoya was going on about suddenly feel real, "they usually forget that the prettiest ones are the hardest to keep in line."

His eyes searched yours for a crack in your nonchalant exterior. "So," he murmured, "are you going to be a problem, doll? Hard to keep in line?"

The weight of the four of them was suffocating, it made you lose trust in your own voice, so you simply shook your head, a subtle movement that felt like signing a contract you hadn't even read.

A satisfied smirk pulled at Jay's lips so he let his shoulder brush yours. "In that case," he said, "we're moving to a more...private after party. Just us. You wanna come?"

He didn't phrase it like a question, to you it sounded like it was an invitation or a command. You hesitated and your mind flashed back to the quiet safety of your dorm but Jake was quick in sensing your retreat. He reached out and let his thumb graze the back of your hand where it rested on the marble now since he lifted his head from your lap.

"Come on," he coaxed with a honeyed voice. "The night's just getting started. You don't want to be the only recruit who tucked herself in just before the real fun began, do you?"

"I...I can't leave Zoya," you managed to glance over their tall frames toward the dance floor. "We came together. I can’t just leave her alone."

Heeseung didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as if he already knew exactly where everyone in the room was positioned. "Zoya’s in safe hands, Jungwon is the sweetest. He'll look after her."

You followed his gaze to the center of the room where the lights caught Zoya, who clearly wasn't checking for you anymore. She had her back pressed firmly against Jungwon's chest, her head tilted back as his hands gripped her hips. She looked flushed and lost in the heat of the moment, completely oblivious to the fact that you were being cornered right now.

The rumors Zoya had whispered about at the stone table suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. Looking at her, then back at the four sets of eyes waiting for your answer, you realized you had to make a choice. But maybe it wasn’t even like that, maybe they were just being really good wing men for Jay, who was the first to approach you. And if you’re being honest you didn’t mind the either of flirting with him more in a more quiet location.

That line of reasoning was exactly how you ended up sat between Jay and Sunghoon in the backseat of a massive truck you’re suspecting Jake owns, seeing as he’s the one driving with Heeseung in the passenger seat.

The fabric of Sunghoon's expensive jacket brushed against your left arm while Jay's solid frame pressed into your right, leaving you with nowhere to lean but forward.

The blue light of your phone screen felt blinding in the darkness of the car as you quickly typed out a message to Zoya.

You: I left with Jay. Didn't want to interrupt you and Jungwon. Text me when you're back?

You watched the read receipt appear instantly, trying to ignore how you conveniently left out the fact that you left with all four boys. A second later, a heart reaction popped up over the bubble, the girl didn’t even bother typing back, she was clearly occupied and it made you snort.

But before you could lock the screen, a large hand reached over and plucked the device from your fingers. Jay didn't even look at the screen as he pocketed it in his jacket with his gaze fixed on the side of your face. "Relax," he told you. "I promise you, Jungwon is a real gentleman. He'll make sure she gets back safe."

"He's right," Sunghoon added from your other side but when you looked at him, he was staring out the tinted window at the passing streetlights. "Jungwon is the best of us. No need to worry."

Jake caught your eye in the rearview mirror and flashed you his perfect white teeth, the engine roaring as he accelerated down the road.

The drive felt like it was happening in a different dimension, the hum of the engine was drowning out by the predatory focus of the men surrounding you.

Jay shifted his weight so his large frame crowded into your personal space until you were pinned against the leather seat and Sunghoon's solid side. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this since you walked into that kitchen," he said, "You're so fucking gorgeous, it's insane."

He moved closer, letting his nose brush yours and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"

Your words had abandoned you, the sheer fervor of his gaze made you dizzy and all you could do was nod. He didn't wait to be told twice, crashing his lips onto yours in a kiss so hungry and demanding, it made a tiny whimper escape your throat, muffled by his lips as his tongue traced yours.

From the front, Heeseung's amused voice cut through the haze, he glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of Jay nearly on top of you, pushing you further into Sunghoon. "Control yourself, Jongseong," he said with no real bite to his words. "You're always so impatient. We aren't even off the main road yet."

Jay definitely wasn’t listening, deepening the kiss instead and letting his hand grip your waist. That’s when you felt a sharp spark of electricity as a different hand began a slow trail up the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your head snapped to the left with wide eyes to meet Sunghoon's gaze, who wasn't looking out the window anymore, whose lips were now pulled into a pout. "And what about me?" he whispered, "Where's my kiss, Y/N?"

Caught between the two of them, you leaned over and pressed your lips to Sunghoon's in a softer kiss. The moment you did, Jay groaned into your ear and grabbed your waist to hoist your leg over his lap, forcing your legs apart in the cramped space and making your dress ride up dangerously high.

Jay's fingers danced along your inner thigh, inching upward until they hooked under the delicate edge of your lace panties. The sensation sent a jolt through you and as Sunghoon began to trail wet kisses down the column of your neck, your breath hitched in a jagged sob.

You were sure you would faint if they both kept going but the vehicle came to a halt and Jake's voice drifted back from the driver's seat, "We're hereeee."

Trying to get out the truck, your legs felt like water when your heels hit the gravel of the driveway, making you stumble.

"Woah, easy there," Sunghoon caught you and before you could find your balance, he moved with the strength of an athlete. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you upward, flipping you over his shoulder like you weighed less than a hockey stick.

That forced a whimper out of your lips and your hair cascaded toward the pavement while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up even further. Blood quickly rushed to your head, mixing with the lingering dizzy spell Jay had started in the backseat.

SMACK.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your rear echoed in the quiet night. "Shh," he shushed you with his hand lingering for a possessive second on the curve of your hip. You could hear the others following behind him as he carried you into the house. Jake let out a low laugh from somewhere behind you. "Careful with the cargo, Hoon," he teased but there was no real concern in his voice.

"She's fine," Jay countered, speaking for you and reaching up to trace a slow line down your exposed calf.

Heeseung led the way and punched a code into a glowing keypad of the door, the mechanical click of the lock sounding like a gavel hitting a sounding block. He stepped inside and held the door open, his eyes tracked your inverted form on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

"Try not to make too much noise, doll. The neighbors think we're such studious boys."

Sunghoon dropped you carefully, setting you down on the couch and the first thing you registered was the interior of the house, it was even more imposing than the truck—all dark leather and the kind of minimalist luxury that felt cold until the four of them surrounded the couch where you sat. They stood in a semi circle, before Heeseung stepped forward with an expression so unreadable, it stripped away the playful banter of the car ride.

"Before we go any further, let's be clear," he started, speaking in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "We're going to fuck you. All of us. If you don't want that, if you've changed your mind, say it now. We won't be mad and we won't make it weird. Jake will drive you back to your dorm and we'll go back to being normal hockey players and ice girl on Monday. No questions asked."

The rumors weren't just true, they were standing right in front of you, tall and extremely expectant.

But as you looked up at them you didn't feel fear Zoya had spoken of this very moment with. The adrenaline from the car ride was still singing in your veins, drowning out any hesitation.

Without a word, you reached up, hooking your fingers under the thin spaghetti straps of the dress. You watched their eyes track the movement as you slowly slid the fabric down, letting it pool around your waist until your breasts were fully exposed in the dim light of the apartment.

"Fuck yeah," Jake breathed, already reaching for the buckle of his belt. "I told you she was the right choice," he muttered.

Heeseung didn't have an outward reaction but the corner of his mouth ticked upward in a smirk—the first sign of genuine approval you'd seen from him all night. "Good girl," he said but now his voice carried a heavy sexual weight.

It was as if they had been waiting all night to tear into you, Jake didn't wait for a second invitation, he dropped to his knees by your legs before burying his face against your chest. "Fuck, I love tits," he groaned, the sound muffled against your skin before his mouth latched onto one nipple. He sucked with a greedy pace that sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak until you were arching your back off the leather cushions.

Above you, Jay was already crowding back into your space, ready to continue what he started in the car. He gripped your jaw and tilted your head back for a bruising make out that had you gasping for air, his hands found your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

While Jake and Jay claimed your upper body, Sunghoon moved with a surgical focus. He didn't say a word as he reached down, hooking his fingers into the lace of your panties and tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. He tossed the scrap of fabric onto the expensive floor without a second glance.

He looked at your pussy with a smirk pulling at his lips. "Look at that," his voice barely cut through the sounds of Jake's wet suction and Jay's heavy breathing. He reached out with two fingers to graze your folds, coming away coated in your evidence. He held them up to the dim light, showing you how much you were already leaking. "You're absolutely soaking. Such a little slut for the team, aren't you, baby girl?"

The words hit you in a way that made your toes curl and sent a whine into Jay's hungry mouth, your hips instinctively rolled upward toward Sunghoon's hand or face, desperate for the friction you knew was coming.

From the edge of the couch, Heeseung watched with a calm satisfaction, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in the sight of his teammates dismantling the newest ice girl.

"She's perfect," Heeseung noted. "Jay, move."

You were pinned to the plush leather of the sofa like a living sacrifice to the tradition you had only joked about five hours ago.

Heeseung leaned over you, letting his large hand cup the side of your face so he could claim your mouth. His kiss was deep, slower than Jay’s and tasted of dark intentions. But the moment his tongue met yours, you felt like you could fall in love with him, that thought was quickly pushed out of your head when a pair of hot, wet lips latched directly onto your clit with a suction so precise it felt like a machine.

"Ah—!" Your back arched violently off the cushions as you broke away from Heeseung's mouth, only to look down and find Jay's dark hair between your thighs. He didn't look up, his hands gripped your hips with bruising force to keep you still while his tongue worked with in rhythmic motions. He was fucking your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue and flicking it against the most sensitive parts of your cunt until you were sobbing into the quiet of the room. "S—Slow down!"

You tried to tug at the roots of his hair to ground yourself but there was no use. On either side of your chest, Jake was still relentlessly toying with your breasts, moving his mouth from one nipple to the other and grazing his teeth on the swollen peaks until they were raw and sensitive.

Heeseung didn't let you stay away for long, his hand shifted from your cheek again before sliding down until his fingers curled firmly around your throat. It wasn't enough to choke you, just a steady, pressure that forced your chin up and pinned you in place while he leaned back in to reclaim your lips.

"Stay still for me, mama."

With a hand on your neck, Jake's mouth on your chest and Jay's tongue devouring your cunt, you felt like you were being pulled apart. You became a mess of whimpers and little breaths while your body twitched with every flick of Jay's tongue as the four of them began the process of breaking you in.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen from his kisses.

"Do you know how to suck a dick, doll face?" he asked, to which you could only nod with your eyes wide and glazed over from arousal.

He took hold of your jaw with a firm grip, maneuvering your head like a piece of equipment he was testing for the first time. You were forced to turn away from the wet sounds Jay was still making between your thighs and suddenly you were face to face with Sunghoon’s cock. He stood right at the edge of the sofa with his jeans already pulled down. His cock was thick and pulsing with a life of its own, there was a perfect bead of precum trembling at the crown. It looked lethal in that light, it looked way too big and ready, completely unapologetic.

"Open up."

Your mouth fell open in a silent invitation that he accepted instantly as he guided his length past your lips. The salt heavy taste of him flooded your mouth and you found yourself choking out a muffled whimper when he slid in deep, bottoming out against the back of your throat on the very first thrust.

He wasn't gentle, he lacked the patience Jake liked to pretend he had, he reaching down, he tangled his fingers into your hair at the roots to steady you or perhaps just to keep you from pulling away then began to fuck your face with a bruising rhythm.

It was complete sensory static, you had Sunghoon's weight invading your throat, Jay's tongue still ruthlessly fucking your pussy below and the heavy pressure of Heeseung's hand on the back of your neck. Every time Sunghoon thrust, his hips bumped against your nose and the scent of him suffocates you in the best possible way.

You were drowning in them, drowning in the friction of the leather sofa against your back and the dual assault on your body, you could barely find the air to breathe. It made you reach out and dig your fingers into Sunghoon's quads for some kind of leverage, you felt the rock hard muscle jump under your touch as you doubled down on the suction.

"God, look at her," Jake's voice drifted from somewhere above your chest. "She's taking him so well. Such a pretty thing."

Sunghoon wasn’t offering any ounce of mercy, his movement turned into something frenzied as he crowded into your space. He used your hair as a tether, pulling your head back to meet every punishing lunge, the friction of his length against your tongue and throat becoming a choking heat. You were swamped in the taste of him, making your eyes water cause his hips snapped forward with a certainty that left you with no room to breathe.

Determined to wrestle back some semblance of control, you reached up and clamped your hand around the very base of his cock, letting thumb press firmly into the heavy vein on the side, you tried to anchor him in place, circling your tongue around the head with laser focus. You started to suck and choke on him in a pace that had his knees buckling against the edge of the cushions.

The controlled grunts he had been making finally fractured. "Fuck," he gasped, something genuine and high pitched ripping from his throat as his head snapped back. The cold look he’d been attempting to wear all night was completely replaced by a wrecked expression that bordered on pain. He leaned his full weight into you, bracing one hand against the wall behind the couch, his fingertips raked against your scalp cause he was losing the battle to stay composed.

He looked down at the others, his voice a jagged rasp that ripped through the wet sounds of Jay still eating your pussy so messily and the squelching of his own cock fucking your mouth. "Heeseung...oh fuck my life, she's actually s—so fucking good at this."

Jake’s chuckle was appreciative from where he was still occupied with your chest, his thumb flicking your nipple with a punishing pinch that made you jump. "I told you. She's got that quiet desperate energy. They're always the nastiest."

Jay hadn’t even come up for air from the slick mess between your thighs, his tongue was still hitting your clit with sharp flicks that made your hips buck weakly into his mouth.

Heeseung's hand was tracing the frantic pulse in your throat, he watched the way your cheeks hollowed out when you doubled down on Sunghoon, his expression shifting from calculated observation to something much hungrier.

"Damn," "What a sight."

You fought for every bit of air while stilling working your throat around Sunghoon with a needy drive that you were determined to maintain until he finally came. You wanted that win, you wanted the feeling of him losing his composure completely as he spilled into your mouth but the sensation coming from Jay was starting to break your focus.

Two thick fingers suddenly shoved their way past your entrance and stretched you wide with an abrupt force that made your eyes roll back instantly. At the same moment, a hot mouth seized your clit again, sucking with an intent pressure that had you wanting to shriek.

The rush was too much, it was a violent collision of pleasure that had you trembling on the couch. You tried to pull back, shaking your head as you attempted to dislodge Sunghoon just to let out the scream building in your lungs. But Sunghoon wasn't having it, he forced you back down until you were buried to the hilt once more, snapping his hips forward with an unchecked urgency.

"Come on, baby girl...I'm so fucking close. Take this cock for me. You’re a good girl, right?"

You tried to obey, hollowing your cheeks so you could double down on the suction but the fingers inside you were merciless. They pushed deeper, reaching past depths you didn't know you had and hooking upward to find that one receptive spot to stay there, pulsing against it until your entire body went rigid.

The dam within you didn't just break, it completely shattered, leading to a hot wave of fluid erupting from you, soaking the hand buried inside you and splashing against the expensive cushions. You were squirting around those fingers in quivering jets, your gummy muscles clenched in an uncoordinated pulses that you couldn't stop if you tried. Every muffled whimper and sob was swallowed whole by Sunghoon's length, leaving you to shake helplessly as you were essentially being consumed from both ends.

"No way," Jake's excitement reached your ears through the haze, he stopped his assault on your breasts just to stare down at the slick mess soaking into the dark leather. "Holy shit, she's a squirter. Hee, did you see that?"

Jay let out an elated sound while his fingers were still buried deep to catch every last twitch of your orgasm. "I see it," he muttered. "I feel it. You’re ruining the couch, angel."

Even through their words and the force of your organs that had you shaking, Sunghoon’s hips were unstoppable. It was like he had lost his grip on reality and you could tell he was on the edge of his own climax.

His hand tightened in your hair with a pushing force as a string of broken curses tore from his throat. "Holy fucking shit—Fuckkk baby girl." "Sh—Shit! You’re gonna make me cum."

It was as if it was too much for him but he didn’t pull back, he pushed further into to your mouth, the phallic head of his cock assaulting your throat.

His hot spurts of cum shot down, making you gag and the cum overflow but he wasn't done, he somehow managed to keep thrusting, trying to fuck every last drop back into you with so much heat that your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"Easy, Hoon. You're going to choke her," Heeseung's voice broke through the fog, still calm but carrying that undeniable authority. He reached forward, wrapping a hand around Sunghoon's shoulder and physically hauling him back.

The moment the pressure vanished and you heard the squelch of his cock pulling out from your mouth, you collapsed forward on the sofa. You couldn't seem to catch your breath, the air was whistling in your lungs as you coughed uncontrollably. Strings of white, pearly cum trailed from the corners of your mouth, dripped down your chin and carved wet paths through the sweat on your neck.

Jay moved over to catch your jaw, he started to pull at the hem of his shirt and made an effort to wipe the mess from your face but it was a lost cause—you were completely ruined. He looked down at you, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lower lip and his eyes went soft for a minute. "You okay? We can stop if you've had enough. You're shaking like crazy."

The room went still for a heartbeat and all four sets of eyes tracked the way your chest heaved. You swallowed hard, still tasting Sunghoon heavy on your tongue and looked up through your lashes. A defiant smile making its way to your lips, even though a stray tear from overstimulation rolled down your cheek.

"No," your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You haven't even fucked me yet. Isn't that what you promised?"

A charged silence followed your words before Jake let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Jesus Christ," "She's a total fucking freak. I love it."

Before you could even think to retort, Heeseung's hands were on your hips hauling you up and flipping you over, forcing you onto all fours in the center of the sofa. Your knees sank into the plush leather and your head hung low, making your hair shield your face as you felt the cold air of the room hit your exposed pussy.

Heeseung seemed to love keeping you suspended in that agonizingly sharp moment of anticipation, your breath wouldn’t stop hitching as your patience dwindled, you felt the blunt head of his cock begin to drag along your wet folds. He was taking his time, coating himself in the mess Jay had left behind, teasing the entrance until you were mindlessly rolling your hips back to find him.

"D—Don’t tease!" You shrieked at him, so desperate to be filled, he finally pushed in slowly, it was so intrusive that you felt like you were being split wide from the inside out. His size was unforgiving and every millimeter he gained seemed to stretch your walls to their absolute limit. You were starting to tremble, your elbows buckling as you tried to stay upright and in a moment of total overstimulation, you twisted your neck to look back at him.

That was a mistake.

The second your eyes met his dark, blown out ones, completely hollow of any pity, his face hardened and he reached forward, large hand wrapping firmly around the front of your throat, not to choke you but to force your head up and arch your spine, causing a violent surge of his hips that buried his cock all the way inside your pussy.

"FUCK!" You screamed straight from your lungs, the impact was so sudden it knocked the air out of you, leaving you gasping as your walls squeezed down around him in a reflexive grip.

"Nngh—fuck," he grunted, dropping his forehead to the space between your shoulder blades at the feeling of you clenching. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck to hold you steady against the force of his own intrusion. "You're so fucking tight. Doll, are you sure you’ve been fucked before?"

Regardless of his pussy drunk concern, he didn’t give you a second to adjust, picking a speed that had him bottoming out with every single thrust, making the world blur into a cloud of white light and the steady slap of skin meeting skin.

You found a way to open your eyes and were immediately met with Jay standing just inches from your face with his hardened dick in his hand, stroking at the view in front of him. The sight of him with completely unfiltered hunger in his eyes made you reach out to try to grab him yourself but your fingers grazed his thigh instead.

"Yeah? You want this too, angel?"

You couldn't even find your voice, you could only bob your head in a nod while Heeseung's hips collided with your ass.

"Say please," Jay commanded.

"Ah—nhh, please..." you whined, the sound breaking into a jagged sob as Heeseung bottomed out again. "Please, Jay...please fuck my mouth."

He kneeled on the couch on the space between your hands, the heat of him hit your face before he tapped the heaviness of his length on your outstretched tongue. You were a complete mess, your hands clinging his thighs for balance while your body was tossed back and forth between the two of them.

Heeseung shifted his angle and suddenly he wasn't just pounding into you anymore, he began to grind into that spot that had your toes curling into the leather. It wasn't the raw friction Sunghoon had used to fuck your face—it was a slow and deliciously exact pressure that made you pull off Jay’s cock for a second.

"Oh my God! Right there! Fu—Ah!" A broken string of moans escaping you, you looked up at Jay with your eyes glazed and watering. "Jayyy, Heeseung...Heeseung’s fucking me so good...It’s so good, Jay!"

Jay watched your face contort with the pleasure Heeseung was providing. "Yeah?" Jay rasped with an instant competitive heat and pushed his way back into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep but not as deep as Sunghoon. "You like that? You like how he's stretching out your little pussy?"

Just as you were starting to manage the dual invasion of Jay and Heeseung, a new spark ignited at your core. Someone had reached beneath you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing down until he heard you moan.

"W—Wait! Too much!"

The scream was raw and echoed off the high ceilings as you realized Jake was the source of the new pleasure. A new pleasure so overwhelming it turned you into a delirious mess of babbles.

"Thank you—fuck—thank you so much!" You cried, your head thrashing against the sofa cushions, completely abandoning Jay’s dick. "It’s so big...my pussy! Oh my God! Heeseung, it feels so good!"

You dug your fingers into the leather and began to throw your ass back with an erratic force, you were weaponizing your own body, slamming back against him so hard that he let out a choked off grunt, his hands scrambled to find purchase on your waist cause you had completely hijacked his rhythm. He was losing his control, it made his breath come out in ragged, stuttering hitches as you ground your pussy on his fic harder and harder.

"Wait—oh shit—doll, slow down," Heeseung managed to say but his voice a mess. He was trembling and muscles were all corded and tight with how hard he was struggled to keep up with your manic pace. "I'm gonna...fuck...can I cum? Can I cum inside you, doll?"

"Yes! Yes!" you keened. "Give it to me, Heeseung—fill me up, please, please just do it! Please give me your cum!"

Maybe Jake was starting to feel felt out or neglected, maybe that’s why his eyes got this strange kind of glee in them when he delivered three stinging slaps directly to your swollen clit.

The impact was the final straw and you knew you didn’t stand a chance, your vision went dark at the corners and for the second time in less than an hour a wave of fluid erupted from your pussy, soaking Heeseung's thighs and the sofa in a hot jolt. At that exact moment, Heeseung lost the battle, letting out a guttural roar and having his fingers bruise your hips when he surged forward one last time and pinned you down, dumping his entire load deep inside your overstimulated cunt.

The expensive fabric of Zoya's dress was now a lost cause, it was a ruined topographical map of cum streaks and the translucent evidence of your own multiple orgasms. You were slumped against the leather with your skin hot when Jake leaned into your space. He looked down at you with a fake pout, his bottom lip tucked out in a way that would have been endearing if his eyes weren't so eager.

"You look absolutely undone," Jake said softly, a little playfully too while he traced a smudge of Sunghoon's cum on your cheek. "Are we done? Because you haven't even touched me yet and I'm starting to feel a little neglected over here."

Heeseung was a complete afterthought at this point, slumped back against the sofa cushions with his chest heaving, he looked entirely fucked out and content to just watch the rest of them continue to use you. Jay snorted as soon as he saw his captain sidelined before he reached out and tugged you toward him.

He didn't give you a choice in the positioning, quickly sitting back and pulling you onto his lap so that your back was pressed against his firm chest, your legs straddling his thick thighs in a reverse cowgirl that left you bare and vulnerable.

"I can be a bit rough, angel," Jay warned in a low voice that traveled straight through your spine. He leaned forward and let his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Just tap my arm if you need me to slow down, okay?"

You were able to give him a weak nod but right before you could even settle into the new position, the dynamic shifted. Jay's hands slid down, hooking the firmly under your knees and hauling your legs upward until your thighs were pinned against your chest. He shifted his grip and locked his fingers behind your head in a makeshift full nelson that made your chest thrust forward and your pussy completely bared to the room.

Jake quickly stepped in and helped Jay's guide his length to your entrance. The thrust of him was so creamy and squelching due to the mixture of Heeseung's and your cum but it didn't stop the way your pussy still felt stretched and overstimulated.

"Oh fuck—!"

You were completely at his mercy, pinned between his solid frame and the air, with no way to pull back or adjust the depth. Jay didn't waste a second of your shock, snapping his hips forward with animalistic strength that made your entire body jostle with every strike.

You became a passenger in your own body, your head lolling forward cause you had no choice, he ruined what was left of your composure with a speed you had no hope of escaping.

The sound Jake's loud commentary and the heavy, satisfied sound of Heeseung's laughter became nothing more than background static the moment Jay's lips grazed the damp skin of your earlobe, to whisper like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Look at you," he hissed and words rattled in your skull.

His arms tightened under yours, pulling your chest even tighter against the position so he could fuck into you with sickeningly perfect thrusts. "Taking all of me like a champ while they just watch. You're so fucking wet, I can hear it every time my dick goes inside you. Do you like being our little showpiece? Do you like how much of a mess we've made of you?"

You tried to gasp, tried to find some response but he caught your ear in his teeth in a sharp nip. "Answer me, angel," he ordered and you couldn't help but clench harder at the sound of his sexy voice in your ear. "Tell me how good it feels to have me giving you this good dick. Tell me you're never going to be the same after tonight."

The way he spoke was so different from Sunghoon's cold commands or Heeseung's calculated dominance. He seemed to be utterly depraved while he detailed exactly what he was doing to your body, using words that made you feel like you were going insane.

"Nnh—Jay—"

"Yeah, that's it," he rasped, increasing his pace until you were bouncing helplessly in his grip. "Keep saying my name like that. Let them watch you cum apart for me. You're so fucking perfect, I'm gonna lose it if you keep squeezing me like that."

You were a complete disaster in his arms, like his words were actively bypassing your brain and heading straight for your pussy. He was pinning you to his chest and whispering every filthy thought he'd had about you since he first spotted you tonight, and with every word, he pushed you closer to the edge of your third orgasm you weren't sure your body was ready for.

The physical barrier of Jay's body didn't stop Jake, he seemed to be a creature of opportunity and when his eyes caught onto the wet frothing friction of Jay’s cock pounding into you, he darted his tongue out to trace Jay’s cock, catching the pearly drops of cum that had pooled at the base of him, and then he made a torturous trek upward. He licked right over the tension of your stretched entrance with his tongue firm and flat, before landing straight on your clit.

"Mmm—Jake—NO—!"

Your scream was harsh, heavy with the evidence of total sensory overload that vibrated through Jay's chest. You weren't just getting fucked anymore, they were taking you apart from the outside in. Every time Jake's tongue swirled over your now extremely sensitive nub, a fresh jerk of aching pleasure sang through your whole body to the point where all you could do was kick your feet and moan. "Oh my God! Oh shitttt! Fuck!" "Nggh—My pussy!"

"Look at you," Jay said into your ear so lowly that no one could hear him over the sound of your cries. "She's losing her fucking mind, Jake. Look at how she's shaking."

Jake didn't answer him with words, he just doubled down, mouth sucking, spitting and slurping until your vision was spotting. He was working in perfect tandem with Jay—the blunt force of the thrusts bottoming out inside you while Jake’s wet mouth kept you on the very edge of another violent climax.

You were a mess of incoherent sobs and frantic hitches as the room blurred into a haze of salt and the overwhelming scent of four men who were determined to see exactly how much you could take before they finally broke you for good.

"Hey," "You think you can handle more? You think that pretty little pussy of yours can take two cocks at once?"

Your brain was mid short circuiting from the overstimulation of both of them leaving you totally incapable of actual thought. You just wanted to be good for them, you wanted to be the perfect, ruined thing they so badly desired.

"Yes," you sobbed into the quiet of the room, making eye contact with Jake who had with tongue flat out so Jay was brushing up against it too. "Yes, please...I can take it."

Jay eyes locked onto Jake's with a competitive look. "She says she wants both, Jake. Get in here."

Jay didn't stop, but he did shift his rhythm, slowing the full nelson into a heavy grind that still kept you anchored while Jake stepped into the space between Jay's spread legs. Jake was vibrating with a feverish drive, his eyes were blown wide when he looked down at the slick mess of your pussy, mostly from him spitting and slurping all over it.

He spat a dollop directly onto your pussy again and the heat of it was a stark difference to the cooling fluids already coating your skin. Looking at him above you, all you could notice was how he was undeniably the heaviest and thickest you’d seen all night but you didn’t even get the chance to appreciate it before he decided to slap the heaviness of his cock directly on your swollen clit.

"Ah shit! Fuck Fuck Fuck—!" Your toes curled mid air.

He was massive in a way that made Sunghoon and Heeseung look manageable by comparison and who had struggled to take them, so how would you manage this?

"Look at you," Jake mocked, guiding the thick weeping head of his cock into your pussy, right alongside where Jay was still buried deep and grinding just on that spot. "You’re already stretching out for me. You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you?"

He began to push his way in, not waiting for your body to adjust around two massive cocks inside you. The stretch was agonizing, you felt like your walls were being pressed flat against your pelvis. You were being split in two, the two of them worked in sync to draw out the high pitched whimpers from your throat, bullying their way into your pussy until you were stuffed to the brim.

"That's it," Jay whispered in your ear, tightening his arms to keep you from collapsing under the weight of them both. "Take these cocks, angel. Show us how much you can really take."

His words made the room start to blur in a spectrum of light and the heavy thud of the sofa hitting the wall. Jay and Jake had found a devastating coordination—a seamless tag team assault where one was bottoming out against your cervix just as the other was pulling back to the entrance. You were never left empty, never given a second to recoil or catch a single, clean breath.

"God, Jay, your cock feels amazing," Jake barked out in a manic laugh while he watched the way your walls buckled and pulled taut to accommodate both their lengths. "I can feel you pulsing right against me inside her. She's so fucking tight." "You always this tight, babe?"

You were barely tethered to reality not to talk of attempting to respond to him, he was asking like he and his teammate weren’t both fucking your little pussy at the same damn time. "I can’t! You’re—I’m gonna cum again! Please!"

In a moment of panicked overstimulation, you tried to blink through the sweat stinging your eyes to search the shadows for Heeseung's grounding presence or Sunghoon's cold, watchful gaze. But the living room had swallowed them whole, they were nowhere to be found, leaving you entirely at the mercy of the two most insane.

Jake had seemed to develop a fresh obsession with your clit. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for the twitching bundle of nerves with his fingers. The shock of the cold metal of his rings against your feverish, hot skin sent a violent tremor through your entire frame.

"Ah! Wait—! N—no!"

"No? I bet you fucking love it?" "I bet you love being fucked by four random strangers, oh shit."

"I bet this is the best—oh fuck!—I’m going to cum."

"This is the best night of your life. Say it."

"Holy shit! Yes yes yes! This is the best night of my fucking life!"

"You're going to be such a pretty little ice girl for us, you know that? You’ll be the sexiest thing on the ice. Everyone's gonna to look at you and have no idea you were fucked like this, shit, like a whore on a Friday night."

The mention of the ice, the mention of the world outside this suffocating living room felt like a distant dream. Your vision started to tunnel and the edges of the room started to fray into darkness as the dual friction of their bodies and the icy bite of Jake's rings pushed you toward a ledge you couldn't come back from.

A third and what you could tell would be your most violent orgasm of the night was already beginning to bubble up in your stomach, the feeling threatened to short circuit your entire nervous system. Your walls clutched at them with a crushing strength and for a terrifying, blissful second, the world went completely silent as you felt yourself starting to slip out of consciousness right at the peak of your pleasure.

The world didn't just blur, it splintered. Your third orgasm hit you with so much force you sat on the edge of unconsciousness, you tried to hold onto the overwhelming fullness of them both but your vision had started to dissolve into static.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a sharp grunt when Jake suddenly pulled out. The loss of his heavy weight was a shock to your system and you were left choking for a breath you couldn't quite find.

"Fuck—"

A second later, you felt the heat of his cum splashing across your chest, the weight of it soaking into the ruined fabric of the dress and landing on your sensitive nipple. He didn't stop, his hand tugging his cock in a final rhythm to coat your skin in the evidence of how much you had ruined him.

At the exact same moment, Jay let out a low moan but he didn’t pull out, if anything, he shoved his cock deeper just as he unlocked his fingers from behind your head and you immediately felt his cum beginning to fill you up, a heavy, internal tide that pushed you over the final ledge.

The heavy sound of their breathing was the last thing you registered before you slipped into a dark, unconsciousness, completely and utterly spent.

Is that a bird? You thought. No way that’s a bird but there was a chirp piercing through the fog of your consciousness. You winced as you tried to blink the world into focus, the ceiling above you was familiar, the off white and the faint water stain in the corner were familiar but the context was all wrong.

You were in your own dorm room.

The confusion hit like a physical weight and made your heart hammer against your ribs. You felt clean too, with the lingering scent of a citrusy body wash clinging to your skin but when you managed to push yourself up, the fabric of what you were wearing felt heavy and oversized. It wasn't your silk slip of Zoya’s dress, it was a thick, grey hoodie that smelled faintly of Jay's cologne and a pair of soft athletic shorts that definitely didn't belong to you.

A sharp ache blossomed in your lower back the moment you shifted, followed by a dull soreness between your thighs that made you hiss through your teeth. So you definitely didn’t dream up last night, the memory of all four of them, from Sunghoon fucking your face to Heeseung’s grip on your throat and the brutal weight of Jay and Jake stretching you to the brink, everything came rushing back in a vivid flood.

You reached up to trace the sensitive skin of your neck. Even without a mirror, you could feel the tender heat of the hickeys littered all across your collarbone and neck. You pulled back the hem of the oversized hoodie and gasped at the blossoming bruises on your hips, they were perfectly symmetrical to where Jay and Heeseung had grabbed you.

"How did I get back here?" you whispered to yourself and reached for your bedside table, expecting to find your cracked phone screen and a half empty water bottle. Instead, your hand brushed against the wicker of a massive, overflowing gift basket. It was filled with things that had no business being in a college dorm room—high end skincare, a silk robe, a plushie and boxes of artisanal chocolates.

But sitting right at the center and gleaming under the morning sun, was a pair of professional grade figure skates looking like something you would never buy cause of how expensive you knew they were. The white leather was pristine, the blades polished to a lethal shine and as you pulled them closer, you saw your initials—your initials—expertly embroidered into the heel in silver thread.

Tucked into the laces was a small card. You opened it with shaking fingers to read the scribbled words.

Thank you for the lovely night, doll face.

— The Hockey Team

These boys had seen you at your most ruined, they had taken apart every bit of your composure until you literally blacked out in their arms and then they had washed you, brought you back to your own bed and tucked you into bed like you were something precious.

You were tracing the silver embroidery on the skates when the door to your dorm swung open with a violent bang. Zoya practically vibrated into the room in a whirlwind of excitement and messy hair, her voice was already at a pitch that made your sore head throb even more.

"You will not believe him!" she shrieked, collapsing onto the foot of your bed without even looking up. "Jungwon is—god, he's actually the sweetest human alive. He sent me like five texts checking if I got in okay, even though he walked me back and now we're going on a date tonight? I'm going to throw up, I'm so nervous. You have to help me, I need to breathe, I need—"

She stopped mid sentence when her eyes finally landed on you. Her jaw dropped as she took in the oversized hoodie, the tangled mess of your hair and the undeniable hickey just above your collarbone. Then, her gaze drifted to the massive basket and the gleaming skates.

"Oh my," she breathed, her voice dropping into a stunned, reverent whisper. "Wait...is this from Jay? Stop, that is actually so hot. Did you guys...did you actually have sex? Tell me everything!"

"Yeah…we did. Something like that."

"No way! You're kidding! And he sent all this!?" Zoya shrieked, lunging forward to tackle you into the pillows while you wracked your brain for a less insane version of the story you were going to feed her, a version where you had sex with just Jay.

Exactly three weeks later, it was hockey season and the biting chill of the practice rink felt like a sanctuary these days rather than a chore. You glided through a series of warm up laps with the other ice girls in the brand new skates that now felt like a natural extension of your own body. They were perfectly broken in, like a silent reminder of a night that still felt like a fever dream every time you closed your eyes.

Zoya was a few feet away in a blur of focus and grace. She tucked into a tight, centered spin, her arms pulling in as she gained a dizzying amount of speed. It was genuinely impressive, she had the kind of technical precision that usually took years to master and you couldn't help but pause to watch her finish with a sharp flourish. "Show off," you teased her.

She laughed but her attention was immediately pulled toward the far end of the rink when the loud thud of the gate opening echoed through the arena, followed by the aggressive clack-clack of blades hitting the ice. The hockey team was filing out for their scheduled practice and their presence instantly shifted the energy of the room from quiet focus to something loud and electric.

Jungwon didn't even bother wavering the moment he spotted Zoya, he skated straight to her in fluid movements despite the heavy pads. He caught her by the waist and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips that had her giggling like a schoolgirl.

"See you after?" he asked loud enough for you to hear, before skating off toward the center circle. As you watched him skate away, your eyes drifted to the rest of the team and you found Jake almost immediately. He was leaning against the boards with his helmet tucked under one arm while he watched you with those eyes. When he realized you were looking back at him, he didn't look away, instead he let his eyes drop to the silver initials on your skates before snapping back to yours with a wink that said everything and nothing at all.

Zoya’s head whipped toward you, her eyes wide cause she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Woah, woah—what was that? Jake? Seriously?" She skated closer and poked your arm with a gloved finger. "Does Jay know his teammate is giving you those kinds of googly eyes? Are you trying to start a locker room war?"

A slow heat curled in your gut but didn't say a word. You just looked at her and held her gaze for a beat, then made a deliberate show of zipping your lips together and throwing away the key with a flick of your wrist.

"Stop! You are so mean!" Zoya squealed, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around in a circle. She started whining, her voice echoing off the high ceilings as she begged for just one little detail. "You can't do that to me! I tell you everything about Jungwon! Is it a thing? Is it a secret thing?"

You just laughed, the sound bright and clear against the ice, enjoying the way she was spiraling into a hysterical frenzy. You watched the guys start their drills—Heeseung’s effortless authority, Jay’s raw power, Jake’s erratic energy and Sunghoon’s cold precision.

Zoya could have her dinner dates and her sweet texts with Jungwon, this was a secret that no one else needed to know—except, perhaps, next year's chosen ice girl.

God help her.

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© nephynes 2025

Jake is confusing.

See, in all your experience as an unofficial, uncertified expert in dating— or in other words, a woman who has been on far too many first dates that she tries to cope with her disappointment by statistically analyzing them— you'd come to the conclusion that men only want one of three things: sex, a mother, or a therapist. And if they don't want just one of them, they want all three.

Men are no strangers to being greedy, nor are they particularly adept at hiding it. All it took was a few sweet words into leading questions to get your prey to crack, to reveal their true intentions. You’ve gotten so good at it, in fact, that the prospect of dating had become almost entirely undesirable— entirely, painfully boring.

So how exactly did you find yourself sitting in a taxi in your heels and dress, dreading the moment you’d have to sit in front of your date and listen to him chatter to himself for hours while you pretend to listen? Your friend, who foolishly believed she could revive the beating of your cold, dead heart, swore up and down that her boyfriend knew a guy who is perfect for you.

“Just give him a chance,” she pleaded with you, with that all too hopeful look in her eyes. It didn’t take much for you to cave. It had been a long time since you’d been out, after all, and maybe you’d have a little fun playing with a new toy like Jake.

Though truthfully, you didn’t think he would be nearly as interesting as you’d hoped. You’d already stalked his Instagram page, and it was nothing short of normal. He was, however, abnormally good-looking, and clearly seemed to know it by the number of shirtless beach photos and gym selfies he had in his monthly photo-dumps.

You remember sighing to yourself in defeat. Hot guys who know they're hot almost always fall into the first genre of men in your unofficial dating hypothesis: the ones who are looking for sex. And though you were consoled by his gorgeous face, you already knew his personality would be nothing short of cocky and bland. But, hey. You didn’t hate the thought of letting him hit it if he turns out to be at least a little bit bearable.

However, he then shared the restaurant's location. The name, a place you couldn't even pronounce, the price, way out of your humble budget. Right then and there, your first baseless assumption about Jake crumbled before your eyes. Because let's be honest, no man is trying that hard to impress you if all they're looking for is pussy— especially a man as good-looking as him.

A mother, you then decided, as the taxi pulls up in front of the restaurant location. You step out of the taxi, stilettos clicking against the concrete, smoothing down the length of your silk black dress.

Men who try too hard are always looking for a partner who will mother them. They want a capable, responsible, but tender and caring woman who will soothe them through their temper tantrums, pack their lunchboxes for work and tuck them into bed like the man-children they are. They want a woman who will manage their schedules, who will remind them when they have a dentist appointment in two weeks, but still call him the man of the household to make him feel important.

Men like this have to try harder because they know that a partner who tends to their every aching need is doing twice the expected labour than the ones who only provide sex. And though they'll spoil you with attention at first, the connection will slowly fade into annoyance as you start to realize how incompetent they are at simply taking care of themselves as a grown adult.

But a man-child doesn't show up to his date early, as Jake does. Nor does a man-child get up to pull out your seat, or pour you a glass of the red wine bottle he's already ordered. Which means that now, you’re back to square one.

Your eyes narrow at his frustratingly handsome face from across the table as he smiles back at you. You despise how genuine he appears, carrying himself with confidence, and yet, without arrogance. Then, you look down at his hands clasped together on the table, catching a glimpse of his Armani watch. Wealthy but tasteful, too. That fact only irritates you more.

"So, Jake," you form as gentle a smile as you can.

The softer you appear, the easier it is to disarm them. Especially, the ones that are looking for the third thing: a therapist, as that is the only remaining thing left on your list.

These ones are the hardest to spot, as they often don't start to pile their emotional baggage onto you until after they've gotten you invested. But, you're a seasoned professional at this point, and you know that if you play your cards right, you can get him to show his true intentions early.

"You must make a lot of money," you finally say, your tone playful enough to get away with the bluntness of your statement. Your intention is to grant the illusion of familiarity. By being upfront, you are essentially laying your cards down on the table, which in turn, should make him feel that there is nothing to be afraid of when speaking to you.

"You have your priorities straight, don't you?" He teases back, meeting your sharp gaze directly, "That shouldn't come as a surprise. You already know what I do for a living."

And you do. You were well aware that he's an engineer, and that his entry-level salary alone was likely twice that of your current one. He's also single and has been working for many years now. That fact alone means he has more than enough to enjoy these types of luxuries.

"I mean to say, this," you gesture around, "is quite the investment for a first date."

"It's like you said. Money isn't a problem for me. I happen to like this restaurant, so I chose it," he affirms. Again, no hint of conceit, no shift in his tone. You begin to simmer in your annoyance at his resistance to bending to your will. But then, he continues, "And I wouldn't describe this as an investment. That makes this whole thing seem so transactional, you know? We're just two people getting to know each other."

Bullseye.

A smile spreads all too quickly across your face.

"You don't think dating is transactional?"

"It shouldn't be."

So he views dating as an emotional ordeal. How adorably sweet of him. Well, that certainly crosses him out as a man who is only looking for sex, right? Now you're getting somewhere, you think, your French-manicured finger nail mindlessly tapping the white tablecloth.

At your silence, he cocks his head, "Do you?"

You’re caught off guard by his question— or rather, the fact that he was even asking you a question at all.

"I don't think it should be, either. Actually, it's very refreshing to hear that." You hum, pretending care, as if you have any desire to get to know him beyond research purposes. "I take it, you're looking for something serious, then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But if we have a connection, then I don't see why we shouldn't explore it."

You frown. Damnit. If he were looking for a therapist-girlfriend, he would've given some kind of sappy, false promise to sweep you off your feet and assure you that he takes you seriously. Now your entire theory is being flipped on its head.

This man... why is he so normal? You start to backtrack, brushing the thought aside. No. You've dated enough men to know that none of them are normal. He might have a genuine smile, adorably expressive eyes, and the loveliest voice to ever grace your ears, but he cannot fool you. He must have ulterior motives. They always do.

A soft laugh interrupts your analysis, and you look up.

"Do you treat all your first dates like this?" He's leaning forward now, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

"Sorry?" You fold your arms.

"You asked me three questions in a row, and now you're glaring at me like I'm an equation you can't figure out," he raises a brow. "I came here with an open heart and open mind. Can you say the same?"

"You don't know anything about me."

"You're right. I don't," he concurs. "So tell me about yourself."

Sex. There. That has to be the thing that he wants from you, and it's final. Most men fall into that category, anyway. Just because he spent a little extra spare money on you, and took his time to actually ask you thought-provoking questions, and actually appeared to listen when you spoke, doesn't change a thing. Sometimes, they like to play with their food before eating it.

Your prediction is affirmed by his offer to drive you home, and you glare at him each time he opens the car door for you, acting like the gentleman you know he isn’t. You have to hide your smug grin as he walks you to the steps of your building, thinking of what kind of silly excuse he’d come up with to invite himself inside. But in the midst of your thoughts, you skip a step, and you find yourself slipping.

"Careful, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for your arm, steadying you straight. Too distracted by his rather firm grasp, you barely register the nickname. “Are you alright?

You blink, then furrow your brows.

"Sweetheart?"

"Because you’re so sweet,” he says with a cheeky smile, and you can’t even pretend not to roll your eyes. “Still haven't warmed up to me, yet, huh?”

"Yet, huh?” you scoff, “You sure have a lot of faith in yourself."

"I have a lot of faith in you, too," he starts, hand sliding from your arm down to your hand, "faith that you'll come around to me by our next date."

"I don’t do ‘next dates’."

“Sure, you don’t.”

You face him beneath the small, dim light that hangs above the entrance. Your expression is pulled into a frown, while his remains relaxed, almost pleased. He's ridiculously gorgeous in person, and even more so up close. It’s a shame that, in only a few moments, you are sure the whole gentlemanly facade would come crashing down. Except, it doesn't.

He doesn’t lean in to kiss you, he doesn’t move his hand down to your ass or try to whisper something obscene in your ear. Instead, his fingers interlock with yours, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before exchanging goodbyes.

You spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, your sheets too suffocating, your skin too hot. You replay the feeling of the warmth of his hand in your head, wondering what it would feel like to hold you, to touch you. Your own thoughts make you want to scream.

Jake is confusing, because only he can make you that fucking horny from just touching your hand.

You find yourself sitting in yet another restaurant that is way out of your price range, in another dress and pair of heels, glaring straight at Jake like you want to kill him. Or fuck him. Or both. These days, you’re not really sure what it is that you want. But regardless of what it was, it somehow possessed you to agree to see him again.

"Why did you ask me on a second date?" You finally ask, picking at your food.

"Because I like you."

"Why?"

"Because I do,” he brings his glass of wine to his lips, and you feel your eye twitch.

"There's nothing to like about me,” you say with a huff, setting your utensils down.

"Now, that's not a very nice way to talk about yourself.”

"The first thing I asked you about was your wealth and status. You really want to date a woman like that?"

He pauses, thoughtfully.

"The way I remember it, you were making a valid observation,” he affirms, without even a hint of sarcasm, “To me, that indicates honesty, perceptiveness and intelligence."

You stare, dead silent.

"You can't be serious."

"See, that's the only bad thing about you. The fact that you don't seem to believe a single word I say."

"I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Look,” you clasp your hands together, leaning close to make sure he meets your gaze, “I don't care how rich you are. How nice you pretend to be. How stupidly handsome your face is—"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"—None of this is going to work on me,” You seethe, and yet again, he doesn’t waver.

You wonder if it’s even possible to make him frown, or if his face is permanently formed into an easygoing smile forever. You absolutely despise how he carries himself, seeming as if to float through life without a single worry.

"That’s really interesting, considering you’re still sitting here with me," he notes, using his knife to cut another piece of his steak. “You’re acting like I’m forcing you to sit here, but you agreed to a second date, sweetheart.”

"Who am I to turn down a free meal?"

"You've barely touched your food," he uses his fork to point at your pasta dish, of which you’d only taken a few bites so far, "If you didn't enjoy our conversations, you wouldn't be taking your time."

"Maybe I've lost my appetite."

"Or, maybe,” he grins, “It’s because you want to stare at my ‘stupidly handsome’ face for even longer."

"One compliment, and it goes straight to your head."

With that, you’re sighing, a hand at your temples. You look to your near-empty glass and grab the bottle at the centre of the table, and to your disappointment, only a few drops remain.

"In my defence, you don't give me very many to work with.”

"How about this?” You place the bottle back down. “I'll give you one more if you order another bottle."

"Just one?"

"Don't be greedy."

And with that, he’s waving down the waiter, and you can't help the warmth that creeps to your cheeks.

You want to trust the facts and statistics you've collected, to remind yourself that getting your hopes up will only lead to disappointment. But then he's pouring you another glass, and you're trying not to laugh at another stupid joke, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

"Okay, sweetheart, let me hear it.” He starts, “And it has to be from the heart. No sweet-talking me, I can tell.”

"I like your voice," you admit all too easily, "Not just the tone, or the accent. But the way that you speak. Sometimes, it sounds like you genuinely care."

"That's because I do.”

You stare him down, burning up inside because you just can’t seem to get the sense that he’s faking this to you, no matter how hard you focus on him. But you just can’t help the feeling that if you believe him, you’ll end up a fool.

"In that case,” you sigh, “I also admire how good a liar you are. Unlike every other bastard I meet, I can't tell when you do it. So there. Two compliments. Lucky you.”

"I'd feel a little luckier if the second wasn't based on wrongful assumptions about my character, but I'll take what I can get." He’s smiling, raising his glass to yours, "Cheers?"

“To what?”

“To you, learning to play nice with me.”

“I’m not cheering to that.”

He leans his glass over to clink yours anyway, and this time, you can’t fight your smile.

You share a taxi home because you're both far too drunk to drive, and you suppose that’s your own fault for thinking two bottles of wine was an appropriate amount for two people. And yet again, he walks you to your steps. And when you see his beautiful self this close to you again, you can't help but tug him by the collar of his shirt, pressing your lips to his.

You'd long since decided, sometime halfway through the second bottle of wine, that you don't care about his intentions anymore. The only thing that matters now is your intention of getting into his pants and devouring him. But his lips aren't needy like yours. His are kind, controlled, and tender, like nothing you’d ever felt.

While other men kiss to take something, Jake kisses you for the sole purpose of simply kissing you. His hands don’t wander, his lips don’t search for more, and you just melt into him, putty in the palm of his hands.

When he pulls away, he lets his forehead fall to yours, and his hand encompasses your own in a warmth you had been waiting to feel since the last time you saw him. It’s in that moment that you realize you never wanted to be fucked by a man so badly in your entire life.

"You're very beautiful,” he whispers, warming your heart and the space between your legs.

"You’re not too bad, yourself."

You wait with bated breath, but impatient, you open your mouth to invite him inside yourself, but he speaks before you can.

"I'll see you soon.”

You look at him, trying to conceal your shock, as if you aren’t weeping between your thighs, as if you aren’t dreading how you’ll be simmering in sexual frustration for the next few days, until you see him again.

You squirm nervously in your seat as the waiter takes your plates away, meeting Jake’s gaze. Everything about this was unfamiliar. The fact that you were seeing the same man a third time, the fact that you were genuinely enjoying your time with him, and the fact that he made you feel happy instead of disgusted or annoyed.

You couldn’t even begin to make sense of it or understand how he had torn down your walls brick by brick without really even trying. But you refused to let it show. You refused to let him crawl further under your skin until you’ve successfully crawled under his first.

"I have a new theory about you,” you say, as soon as the waiter clears your plates and leaves the table.

He‘s leaning forward, "Do tell."

"I think you're a virgin."

He snorts. Loud. A little too loud for a dinner in a candle-lit restaurant, and you nudge him with your foot under the table to silence him. A few other diners hear and turn to look at the pair of you before returning to their meals, unfazed.

"Sorry,” he snickers, flashing you a smile, “I don’t mean to disappoint, sweetheart, but if you were looking forward to taking my virginity, then I’m afraid to tell you it's already long gone."

"What a shame," you deadpan, rolling your eyes at him.

"You didn't really think that, did you?" He grins, lowering his voice, "I know I don't kiss like a virgin."

"What am I supposed to think?" You defend yourself, index finger pressed to the table, "What kind of guy doesn't try to have sex on the second date?"

"You wanted to have sex?"

"This isn't about me."

"Isn't it? It takes two to tango," Jake grins, and you can feel your face start to heat up, too flustered to search for a retort. "I hate to say I told you so, but look at you. Already succumbing to my charms."

"In your dreams," you try, rather defensively. And lucky for you, he doesn't press it.

"If you want a real answer to your rhetorical question,” he starts, gazing into your eyes with a look you couldn't quite place, “It didn't feel like the right time."

"Alright, now you really sound like a virgin.”

He raises his hands defensively, "Hey, I prefer my sex sober. What's the point if I can't remember it the next morning?"

You shake your head, recalling all the unsatisfying nights you wish you didn't have to remember. All the men who let themselves finish, only to not return the favour. All the men who pushed your head down while kissing, all the men who didn’t even know where the clit is. The only memorable thing about those experiences is how awful they all were. At least being drunk made them bearable.

"Maybe some people would rather forget."

"Well, sweetheart," he’s leaning forward again, and your breath catches when his hand takes yours across the table, rubbing gentle circles over your knuckles, "You won’t want to forget me."

"Slow down, baby," he hums against your lips, hands moving to halt the movement of your hips.

Annoying, you think as a heavy sigh of frustration escapes you. You've just about had it with Jake, because even after having to be the one to invite him inside, even after being the one to lead him to the couch and mount him, he never caves to your demands. Even now, as he is hard, seated beneath you.

Every time you kiss him with too much urgency, he reels you back in, controlling the pace as he pleases. Every time your hands wander down to his waistband, he raises his knee to the throbbing heat between your legs, your hands flying to his shoulders to brace yourself.

It doesn't help that he's hands down the best kisser you've ever experienced. His lips, soft and warm. His tongue, slow and deliberate. He doesn't poke his tongue around like an idiot or try to swallow your face. He's controlled. Intentional. It makes you want to rip his clothes off like an animal.

"Why?" You hate how whiny your voice sounds, squirming as you try to grind your hips down against his thigh. He doesn't budge.

"Because I want to take my time with you," his lips trail down to your jaw, teeth grazing you ever so slightly as he sucks down on your sensitive skin. "You're so beautiful like this."

"You're an asshole," you inhale, biting down your lip to suppress the whine that threatens to escape you.

His mouth continues to trail downward, worshiping your neck, but never harsh enough to leave a mark, as he had promised he wouldn't— You're a working professional. It would be a pain to cover up.

"You're quite mean for someone so needy," he replies, moving your hips for you at his decided pace, "So demanding."

"You just want to watch me suffer."

"The opposite, actually. I want to make you feel so good." His lips nip at your collarbone, and you grind against his thigh in just the right way. You dig your fingers further into the fabric of his shirt, a timid whimper falling from your parted lips. "Wanna give you everything you need. Just be patient, baby."

You huff. The last thing you want right now is to be patient, and you swear to god, if he doesn't whip it out right now and bury himself so deep inside you, you might start to cry. But you've learned by now that he doesn't heed to your call. With your eyes fluttering shut, despite the distracting, toe-curling inducing friction between your legs, you start to scheme.

You bring a hand to his cheek, guiding him away from where he kisses your neck. And with the tip of your fingers, you lift his chin, meeting him eye-to-eye.

"But Jakey," you pout, "Don't you want me to touch you?"

You lean forward, hand at his chest pushing him a little further into the couch, and this time it's your lips at his neck, nipping his skin, your head spinning at the low groan that escapes his throat. His hands move to the small of your back, rubbing slow, encouraging circles into your skin. And now, without him controlling your hips, you press yourself against him with more fervour.

"I can’t help being mean. It's only because I want you so bad," your hand trails down his chest, slowly, until your finger tips reach his belt. "Should I make it up to you?"

You press your lips to his to cut off his presumed words, desperate and hopeful that your womanly woes are enough to shake his, quite frankly terrifying, self-control, in the hopes that now, finally, he would let you take what you want. The thought of it alone has your hips stuttering, and you whimper into his open mouth, a familiar pressure starting to build up inside you.

You don't realize what you're chasing until it's too late, and suddenly, you snap, calling out his name against his grinning lips like a bitch in heat as he swallows your sinful moans, legs shaking in the aftermath of your high. And when your hips finally come to a stop, your cries fading into heavy pants, that's when it hits you.

He pulls away, looking at you up and down in awe, watching how your chest rises and falls, admiring the dazed look in your eyes.

"Did you just...?"

You nod, slowly, trying not to shrink under his prideful gaze. To say you were embarrassed would be an understatement. You're both fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched you beyond kissing you, and yet you already finished. He laughs softly, his thumbs still rubbing in slow circles at your back, the simple movement alone setting your body aflame.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I."

"Hm, does that make me special, then?"

"Well, I usually have to fake these things,” you admit bashfully, “so I guess that does make you pretty special.”

"You sure know how to flatter a guy, huh?"

"I know a lot of ways to do that," you say with a sly smile, earning a brow raise from him, “If you’ll finally let me?”

Your eyes drop to the tent in his pants, and your mouth parts with want. If you were with any other guy, you probably would've reached down to drop his pants and get on your knees unceremoniously, but something about Jake makes you want to carry yourself with a little more class.

Instead, you move your lips to his neck, and your fingers begin to work at the buttons of his crisp, button-down shirt. But your eyes begin to feel a little heavy, and your fingers start to feel a little too clumsy, struggling with only the first button. Your lips only manage to press a single kiss before you're yawning, exhaustion overtaking you as you mentally start to recover from your high.

"Tired?" He asks softly, with maybe a hint of trying to disguise his amusement.

You finally undo the top button, moving to the next and sigh against the side of his neck.

"A little," you admit, thinking about how you only managed to get a couple hours of good sleep. "Last night, there was this project deadline. Deadweight coworkers did nothing, so I had to pick up the slack, last minute."

"Sweetheart, you should've told me. You must be exhausted," his hands move from the small of your back to your middle, rubbing up and down soothingly. His eyes soften in concern, in a way that makes your pussy throb. Christ, there’s something wrong with you. "Now I feel bad that I've kept you up so late."

"Don't feel bad. It's not your fault that my coworker is incompetent." You scoff, your head slowly falling to rest in the crook of his neck, and your hand clutching uselessly at the fabric of his shirt. The rhythm of his fast-beating heart is almost enough to lull you to sleep right there, but you will yourself not to. You don't want to be done with him yet.

"Mm. Well, if it makes you feel better, you're not the only one struggling with incompetent coworkers," he laughs softly, and you can feel the vibrations of his chest.

You let out a louder yawn this time. But when you shift to adjust yourself more comfortably in his arms, you're reminded that he is still hard as a rock beneath you— a reminder that you hadn't yet returned the favour. Admittedly, you want nothing more than for him to slip it out and stick it inside you right there, to fuck you until you're wide awake again, but you know he won’t do that. So instead, your hand slides down his chest and fumbles around with his belt.

"Watcha doing?" He hums, “Thought you were tired?”

"You got me off, so—"

"Did I?" He chuckles, and you feel your face burn. Okay. Maybe it was more like you got yourself off. But still. "I don't need anything, beautiful. Save it for when you have the energy."

You're too tired to fight him on that as he lifts from the couch, carrying you bridal-style to your bedroom. And laying you gently on the mattress, you get this overwhelming sadness at the loss of his warm body against yours.

You try to sweet-talk him into giving you what you want, as he helps you rid yourself of your dress and stockings, and though his eyes linger on the matching set you decided to wear underneath just for him, he only offers you a polite, respectful smile. It almost annoys you how considerate he is, asking you where you keep your makeup wipes to help clean your face.

You pout when he kisses your forehead, finally, saying something about how he should be on his way.

"Stay," You tug at his sleeve. You don't want to think about how ridiculous it is that you're asking a guy you've been on three dates with to basically cuddle you to sleep. Since when did you act so clingy? Since when did you want someone to stay in bed with you, if only to keep them close, and nothing more? Timidly, you lower your voice. "Do you... want to stay?"

It's all worth it, at least, to be able to watch him strip down, your eyes taking in his lean, muscular form. He's still hard in his boxers as he crawls into your bed, and you smile when you finally feel him flush against you again, with big, strong arms wrapped around your centre.

He doesn't try to grope your breasts, or grind into you, or whisper dirty things in your ear, and it's almost offensive, you think, because how can he behave so well when you're backing your hips into him, the obscene wetness between your legs staining the fabric of his underwear? What kind of inhuman self-restraint does this man possess?

You quickly give up your shifting movements, realizing he won't budge. And as your heavy eyelids fall shut, you can't help but think that maybe he was right. For now, you would rest. Only so that you could have all the energy in the world to pounce on him the very next morning and take his dick until you can't walk.

"Mm, Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't wait for you to fuck me," the words slip out too easily. He laughs into the crook of your neck, but you don't miss his shaky exhale, and the way his grip seems to tighten around your form.

"Go to sleep."

"You sure you don't want me to make you breakfast first?" He asks, as if you don't have his entire cock in your mouth right now.

If you thought he was gorgeous last night, he was irresistible now, with his dark, messy hair over his eyes, his voice hoarse and sleepy. Naturally, you just couldn’t resist yourself as you'd pushed him back onto the mattress and crawled under the sheets, hungrily stalking the imprint of his cock. And though he tried and insisted that he should be the one getting between your legs instead, it was too early to be manhandling you like that. So he just let you do your thing while providing annoyingly unwarranted, kind and considerate commentary.

You glare at him through your lashes, removing him from your mouth, letting your hand do the work instead.

"Fuck breakfast."

He lets out a half-laugh, half-groan as your mouth returns to the head of his dick, licking away the precum that leaks from him like it's the best thing you've ever tasted. Because really, this was the only thing you were hungry for: getting to finally touch him, and hear those pretty sounds of his amidst his running mouth.

"It's the most important meal of the day, you know," he continues, hands curling in your hair to get a better view of your face, rather than to control your pace this time, "Never good to start the day on a— ah— empty stomach."

"Really?" You can't help the sly grin that curls at your lips, before you're crawling up. You sit yourself on him, grinding against his cock through your lacy little getup, "Then fill me up."

He looks up at you, eyes wandering down your body to admire what you'd worn for him last night, and his hands move to your hips to thumb the fabric.

"Wearing stuff like this on the third date," he smiles, "Flattery really is your forte."

He says, as if having sex on the third date as two fully grown adults is some kind of taboo. Though you suppose he’s right. Never in a million years would you have done something like this for any other idiot guy.

"It's only called flattery if it's insincere, right?" You reply, feeling him hook his fingers around the waistband. He starts to pull them down, and you let the fabric slip down your bare legs. "Trust me. I'm very sincere about this. You deserve it."

"Me?" He smiles ear to ear, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yeah, you. You've been very polite, Jake," you sigh when you feel your bare cunt pressed against him, the head of his cock catching your clit. "Let me show you how much I appreciate it."

"Whoa, hold on, beautiful," he hisses, hands flying to your hips as you press his tip to your entrance. He’s panting below you, and you whine in his grasp, trying to press down. "Haven't even prepped you yet, and—”

"Holy shit, Jake, I don't need it," you groan, and he opens his mouth to protest again, but you cut him off, "And I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now. I'm on the pill, so don't worry your handsome self over anything else, just let me have you.”

Without much convincing at all, he eases his grasp, and you whine when you start to sink on him, now understanding exactly why he was concerned about prep. He’s huge, and you've never been stretched out like this before, but you don't care. The slight sting of being stretched out is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel of finally being filled. You close your eyes when you sheath yourself to the hilt, feeling him deep in your guts.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm amazing," you sigh, flashing him a smile. You start to move just a little bit, rising and falling in shallow thrusts, slowly working your way up, "I'm riding a hot, respectful guy with a huge dick, is that even a real question?"

He laughs, and it morphs into a moan as you fully raise your hips to slam back down again.

"Well, the most gorgeous little thing I've ever laid my eyes on is trying to ride my dick like it's nothing, so it's only right that I make sure she's okay.”

"Trying and succeeding," you insist, feeling the competitive urge to prove yourself a little more.

Your hands press down on his chest to brace yourself, and you start bouncing on him, your vision going blurry every time you feel him hit that spot inside you just right. The curve of his cock just fits you so nicely, you can't help the chorus of noises that escapes you— nor can Jake, apparently, who only seems to know how to shut up when you’re fucking his brains out. You pray you won't be hearing a noise complaint from your next-door neighbours, but the chances are slim.

"Fuck, you're good at this," he groans, resisting the urge to fuck up into you. His hands move to your waist, and one presses against your lower stomach, where he can feel himself right there. "Feels good? You like feeling me all the way in there?"

You whimper when you feel a hand at your breast, kneading and pinching the soft flesh. His eyes are all over you, worshipping you, and suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you’d even had sex in daylight. Normally, you felt too exposed. Too vulnerable. Right now, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You want to watch him as he falls apart. You want him to see you.

"So good, Jake,” you stammer, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to muffle your sighs, “Fuck, could do this all day."

"Yeah? You're something else, aren't you?" He smirks, "But I don't mind. I'll let you ride me til your legs give out, if that's what my needy girl wants.

"Your girl?"

"Hopefully," His voice is gentle as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you down until you're flush with him, "but I'll save that question for the next time I take you out."

You want to laugh because, even as he's balls deep inside you, he's still trying to be romantic. And somehow, that thought alone has you trembling, pushing you towards the edge. The wind is knocked out of you when he starts fucking up into you, hands gripping your hips, taking the pace into his own hands.

Just like that, you're crying out, and he's fucking you through your orgasm, his own nearing as you clench around his dick. It doesn't take long for him to finish either, releasing deep inside you, watching it gather at the base of his cock.

You let your head fall to his chest, still twitching inside you, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head— soft, delicate and, somehow, innocent. Then, you hear his stomach growl, and you both start laughing.

"You still want breakfast?" You tease.

He hums, thoughtfully, and you squeal as he flips you over onto your back.

"Fuck breakfast," he quotes you from earlier as he slips out of you, using two fingers to keep his cum from dripping out of you. Overly sensitive, you writhe, and you whimper when you feel his breath hover just above your clit. "I want you."

being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.

their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.

however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.

this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.

you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.

truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.

you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.

before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.

the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.

thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.

the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.

as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.

[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]

a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.

"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.

jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.

he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.

your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.

with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.

"have we met?".

you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.

he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.

the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.

he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.

he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".

he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.

jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.

you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.

he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.

after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.

"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.

after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.

you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.

you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.

"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.

"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.

"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.

jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.

[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]

you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".

"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.

their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.

the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.

he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.

unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.

after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.

you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.

"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.

"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.

you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.

"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.

you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.

jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.

he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.

you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.

"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.

you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.

you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.

he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.

"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.

you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.

as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.

[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]

you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.

he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.

jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.

he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.

his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.

he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.

he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.

he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.

you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.

you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.

"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.

it's not the same.

"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".

you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.

"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.

"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.

"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.

"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.

after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.

without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.

you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".

"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.

"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.

"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.

"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".

"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.

"let's go home"

his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.

"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.

"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.

"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.

you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.

your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.

"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.

"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.

jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.

"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".

"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.

"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.

you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.

you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.

however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.

you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.

he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.

you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.

"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.

"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.

his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.

you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.

"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.

"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.

"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.

"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".

"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.

"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.

"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.

"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.

"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.

"aren't all love stories?" he countered.

"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.

you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.

jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.

you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.

your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.

"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.

you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.

jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.

that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.

he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.

you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.

so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.

he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.

"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.

"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.

you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.

"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.

you turned to him "perfect... thank you".

his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.

[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]

he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.

he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.

you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.

his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.

you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.

neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.

"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.

"so do you" he managed back.

he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.

you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.

you remembered the words.

and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.

you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.

you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.

you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.

you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.

without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.

the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.

the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.

you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.

he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?

after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.

"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.

he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"

you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".

"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.

"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"good or bad dream?" he asked.

"i don't know yet".

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.

jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.

after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.

jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.

he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.

which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.

it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.

so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.

it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.

the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.

even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.

so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.

that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.

his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.

he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.

he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.

he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.

no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.

so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.

"hey, where are you?"

[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]

you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.

the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.

the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.

you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.

nothing more.

the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.

your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.

after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.

you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.

jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.

he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.

"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.

"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.

you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".

yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.

"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?

you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.

"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.

he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.

"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.

the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.

"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.

you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.

his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.

"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.

"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.

it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.

[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]

now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.

jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.

he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.

for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.

"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.

you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.

with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.

jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.

the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.

"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.

you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.

god he thought he was past this.

friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.

you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.

friends. roommates.

you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.

and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.

jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.

you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.

you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.

"i'm right here".

he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.

"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.

"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.

"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.

without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.

he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.

"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.

"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.

he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".

you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."

surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.

you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.

[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]

"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.

"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.

you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.

jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.

you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.

your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?

you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.

his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.

in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.

your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.

you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.

and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.

neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.

you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.

he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.

you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.

but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.

[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]

your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.

you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.

"y/n, hey wake up"

you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.

jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.

he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.

"bad dream?"

"the worst" you sighed.

you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.

"you're okay" he whispered.

you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.

you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.

you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.

it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.

you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.

"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.

"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.

you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.

you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.

"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.

this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.

you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.

"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.

"like you've never seen me before"

he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.

"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".

you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.

"save that for your soulmate" you joked.

the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.

you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.

your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.

you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.

you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.

after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.

he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.

instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.

you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.

you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".

"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.

you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.

"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.

you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.

a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.

you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.

maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.

half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.

you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.

"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.

"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.

[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]

that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.

you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.

only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.

"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.

"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.

"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.

"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"

you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".

you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.

"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.

and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.

"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.

you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".

you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.

not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.

you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.

you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.

you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.

you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.

by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.

you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.

you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.

"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.

"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.

it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.

you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.

jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.

they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.

finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.

"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.

"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.

"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.

by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.

jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.

jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.

maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.

jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.

you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.

this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.

you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.

but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.

you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.

the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.

there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.

as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.

you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.

he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.

you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.

after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.

you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,

"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.

"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".

he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".

you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.

after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.

you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.

you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.

you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.

you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.

"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.

"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.

"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.

silence. dead ghostly silence.

for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.

[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]

the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.

"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.

"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.

you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.

you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.

you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.

"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.

you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.

"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.

"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.

"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.

you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.

you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.

"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.

you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.

"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.

"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.

throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.

you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.

especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.

you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.

"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.

everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.

the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.

"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.

"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.

"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.

"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.

jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.

"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.

"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.

"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.

[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]

"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.

"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.

"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.

you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.

"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.

"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.

"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.

the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.

"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.

"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.

"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.

"is it?"

you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.

jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.

"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.

he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.

"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".

as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.

"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.

"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.

you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.

"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.

you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.

"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".

"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.

"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.

"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.

it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.

when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.

which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.

you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.

you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.

"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.

"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.

"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.

"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.

"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.

"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.

instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.

"are you not leaving?"

"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.

you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..

"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.

"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.

[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]

he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.

but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.

which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.

"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.

if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.

"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.

"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.

the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.

"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.

he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.

only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.

"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.

"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.

"why can't we be?" he asked.

"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.

"so?" he walked closer to you.

"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.

"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.

"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.

"yes, she does".

"does she know everything?" you emphasized.

any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.

"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.

you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.

"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.

even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.

but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.

"fine, we'll see"

because space is easier when only you're aware of it.

he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.

she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.

"hey can we talk?"

you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"

you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.

"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.

"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.

"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.

"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.

but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.

"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.

"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.

you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.

not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.

sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.

[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]

and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.

you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.

"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.

something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.

yeah.. this was not going to work.

you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.

the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.

you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.

you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.

"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.

"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.

"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.

"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.

"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.

you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.

you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.

his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.

and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.

you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.

you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.

"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.

"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.

"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.

he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.

he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.

"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.

his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.

"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.

you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.

"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.

"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.

he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.

your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.

months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.

he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.

"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.

his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.

"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.

you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.

one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap

"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.

he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.

you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.

his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.

[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]

for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.

you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.

"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.

"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.

"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.

"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.

you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.

you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.

because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.

so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.

"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.

"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.

"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.

you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.

yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.

jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.

neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.

"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.

"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.

"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.

you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.

you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.

you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.

as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.

but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.

you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.

your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.

you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.

[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]

with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.

jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.

for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.

his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.

"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.

"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.

"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.

"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.

you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.

"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.

"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.

"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.

"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.

"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.

"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.

"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".

"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.

he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.

"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.

you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.

"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.

his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.

[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]

"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.

your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.

"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.

"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.

"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.

"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.

"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.

"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.

as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.

but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.

that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.

once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.

"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.

you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.

one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.

you found me.

your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.

"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.

you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.

"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.

you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.

"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.

he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.

"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.

he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.

"you found me"

he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.

"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.

"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.

[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]

after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.

you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.

"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.

he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.

"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.

"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..

"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.

you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".

he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.

"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.

you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.

"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.

"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.

"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.

your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.

"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.

your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.

he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.

his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.

"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.

"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.

"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.

you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.

he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.

he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.

he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.

you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.

"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.

"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.

your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.

you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.

"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"

your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.

"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.

"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.

"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.

as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.

you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.

you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.

you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.

your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.

as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.

he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.

now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.

what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.

and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.

you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.

his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.

"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.

his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.

"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.

"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.

"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.

"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.

"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.

"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.

"i deserved that.."

.⭑ˎˊ˗

time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.

you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.

your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..

yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.

nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.

he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.

one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.

the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.

you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to getting them.

after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.

come to the roof

slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.

"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.

"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.

"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.

"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.

he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.

"how did you-" you gasped.

"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.

"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.

"everything?"

"everything."

had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.

Oh this little shit. You could have pushed him away, grabbed him by his soft curls and pulled him up to take his place kneeling on the floor but to be frank you were utterly fucked out, at the point of going cross eyed by the dizzying stretch of his tongue.

You glanced down at him, curling your fingers into his hair. He was munching away at your pussy, eyes half-lidded, savouring you like you were the last thing he’d eat in his life. You could feel the wetness of his saliva all over your thighs, or maybe that was all the cum you had left from the last three orgasms. Jungwon moaned into your skin like a whore, your juices leaving his lips slick and shiny as you practically rode his face.

“Taste so good…” Your hips bucked up—cutting his words short and melting into a muffled groan. You tasted like fucking nectar; Jungwon was sure the angels couldn't find a better version of it anywhere other than between your legs.

"So much better when you're not running your mouth, hmm?" You murmured, voice barely audible over the sclick-sclick of your cunt gliding over the tip of his tongue. He continued suckling—tongue circling in clumsy circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Feel like I'm gonna cum, Jungwon."

Jungwon stilled for a moment, cursing under his breath and harshly grabbing your free leg to throw it over his shoulder, giving him easier access. His fingers dug themselves into your skin like soft bullets, somehow making the knot at the bottom of your stomach even tighter. 

"God, pretty pussy’s sucking me in sooo good." His words came out slurred, whiny and high pitched, as they usually did when he’s pussy-drunk. The vibrations of his voice, lazy and gin-soaked, vibrated you to the core. Jungwon’s tongue flicked out, lips beginning to part widely as he sealed your cunt in one big, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Jungwon!” You gasped, fingernails digging into his shoulder as your thighs started to tremble, “Won, i—i’m gonna—” Your voice came out strangled, half plea, half moan. Every drag of him inside you had your walls fluttering helplessly, slick dripping down your thighs and onto his chin.

You shattered with a loud wail, walls clamping down so hard he hissed through his teeth. Jungwon didn’t stop, kept fucking you through it, desperate and whining for your ambrosia. His slurping became obnoxiously loud as he lapped up everything gushing out from you.

“Good lord Jungwon.” You chuckled as he sucked on the skin of your inner thigh, “You’re acting like you’ve never eaten this pussy before.” Jungwon looked up at you with rounded eyes. His hair was a mess, flushed face drenched, and dopey grin slick with your juices. 

“It’s been too damn long.” He said, slowly pushing your legs off his shoulders—as if you could walk perfectly fine after all that, “These fucking interns I swear...” 

“Like you’ve never been an intern before.” You ran a hand through your hair, attempting to fix it as Jungwon got to his feet. Your eyes lingered far too long over the outline of his broad shoulders, outlined by the tight fabric of his button-up. If you weren't already dead by now, you would have torn it off right there and then and rode him till dawn.

“Well yeah not a stupid one.” Jungwon leaned back against the bookshelf, crossing his arms, “I swear Jo has something against me.” 

“You’ve told me that fifteen times since he assigned you to them.” You rolled your eyes, shimmying into your pencil skirt, “And lest you forget,” You poked his chest, “I’m stuck with you.” 

Jungwon’s hand gravitated to the side of your hip, helping you zip up your skirt. His other hand came to rest on your upper back, subtly pulling your hips close to his. 

“I swear Jungwon, you’re gonna get a sex ban.” You pushed him away, continuing to fix your hair, “Be grateful I even let you do that to me at 6 in the evening.”

“We’re only being the best employees ever aren't we?” Jungwon smirked, his voice a purring tone, “Staying after hours, combing through all these files ourselves..” You glanced at the neatly stacked, clearly untouched tower of dusty folders behind him and stared at him with deadpan eyes. Then you both erupted into a fit of laughter.

“Someone should make us CEOs already..” You said, catching your breath, “If only Jo knew what we were doing here.” Jungwon scrunched his nose.

“Why bring that dickhead up?” He scoffed, clenching his jaw. 

“Because he’s not a dickhead.” You slowly brought your arms up to rest on his shoulders, his hands went back to caressing your waist, one of them subtly moving down to grope your ass, “Plus, he’s kinda hot.” You felt his fingers dig into your skin at that.

“So what you’re saying is—” Jungwon quirked a brow, “—you’d rather get fucked by him than me.” Before you could respond, his strong arms wrapped around you like iron bands, yanking your body flush against his. He locked you in tight—chest to chest, tits squished against his broad chest, your lips mere inches away from his.

“Suck me off?” 

“You’re definitely getting a sex ban.”

__________________________

Jo considered himself to be a good employee. 

He’d be the first one in the office, coming in at 8 a.m sharp everyday without fail. His shirt always ironed to a crisp, and his ties without a speck of dirt. No wonder he got promoted to Chief of Staff so fast—everybody knew the CEO would have left his own wife for Jo and his master plans. 

And yet as always, there was a catch.

Good employees don’t tend to fall for their company’s exec ops.

“That’s the last of it.” You handed him the obnoxiously large file, fingers briefly brushing with his, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“No, that's alright.” Jo’s eyes softened, “Thank you so much for this.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Don’t know what I would do without you Y/N.” 

“Oh yeah?” You giggled, sitting down in front of him, you rested your elbows on the glass table and leaned forward, totally not aware of your cleavage peeking through your shirt, “The great Asakura Jo needs little old me to help him?” 

Jo froze.

Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Do not stare.

His brain, unfortunately, was doing the exact opposite—replaying your laugh, overanalyzing your tone, suddenly very aware of how hot the room was. He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t notice the faint heat creeping up his neck.

“Well, some have greatness thrust upon them.” He replied, fingers toying with the file in front of him.

Quote Shakespear, great save Jo.

He risked a glance down and immediately regretted it. Meanwhile you were smiling like the world was all sunshine and rainbows, like the scent of your perfume wasn’t driving him insane. Jo’s heart thudded faster against his chest.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, though.” He managed a quick smile, adjusting his glasses, “I’d manage just fine without you.”

A blatant lie, and he knew it. You merely smiled on, resting your cheek in your hand.

“Hmm yeah totally.” Another giggle; Jo’s brain short circuited, how was a man supposed to survive?

 “Well, I better get back before Jungwon burns our office down.” You hummed, pushing yourself to your feet. He saw the slightest peek of your thighs under your skirt. Jo pressed his lips together, forcing himself to focus on the table, the files, anything that wasn’t your bare skin. 

Jungwon. 

Office.

Fire hazard. 

Normal thoughts.

……

Your tits.

“Yeah, good idea,” he said quickly, standing as well for some reason.

“See you later, Jo.” As you walked away, Jo allowed himself a one second glance at your ass before getting back to work. 

Get it together, idiot.

Meanwhile, in the office across the room—

“You’re an evil woman, Y/N.” Jungwon looked up from his papers, “Evil, evil woman.” 

“A girl can't do anything nowadays huh.” You sighed, plopping down onto your swivel chair and spinning once for emphasis. Your joint office with Jungwon was directly across Jo’s, allowing him to see all of your antics with the poor man. “Might as well burn me at the stake.” 

Jungwon snorted. “Tempting.” He glanced past you, and smirked, looking down again, “You’re being watched you know.”

“Watched?” You tilted your head innocently, eyes wavering over his dimple. 

“Management, sweetheart.” Jungwon added, shamelessly glancing down at your cleavage, “I’m afraid that pretty little skirt of yours has violated HR.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “And my dick unfortunately.”

“That sounds like a you problem Wonnie, not an HR one.” A smug grin spread over your face, “We can fix that at lunch.” Below the desk, your bare foot was lifting the bottom fabric of his trouser up—payback for all the almost orgasms he had made you go through two days ago in the file room.

“Evil woman.” He echoed, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I feel sorry for your future husband.” 

“Good that it won't be you then.” You leaned your chin into your palm, “Alright get to work. We better get this done by noon or I swear I’ll jump off this building.” You slipped your headphones on, scrolling through your playlists.

“Yes ma'am." Jungwon let out a low laugh, turning his attention back to his papers, as silence fell over the room.

__________________

“You with me, pretty girl?” Jungwon squeezed your right ass cheek before lifting and bringing his hand down on it harsh, hearing the smack sound through the room, “We haven’t even started baby.” 

At this point you were already fucked dumb— bent over the table, skirt hitched up to your hips and your panties shoved down to your ankles. Your mouth was agape, ungodly sounds escaping your lips as his cock drilled into your ass. You hadn't said anything for a while now, and by Jungwon’s knowledge, he simply assumed he’s not pounding you good enough. 

“W-Won….” You managed to stutter out, feeling his tip hitting the deepest, wettest parts of you, “slow dow—oh god!” Your mouth was dry and your tongue cotton, your cheek was  probably bruised too, from having been pressed against the table for so long.

Jungwon’s head dipped into the crook of your neck to suck on the skin there, one hand resting on your hip to pin you down, while his left slowly wandered to your pussy. One touch to your throbbing clit, and you were screaming. 

“So tight for me—hah—aren’t you?” His voice was dangerously low and commanding, the kind that made your lips gush. Jungwon’s hips snapped particularly harsh and a moan resounded right from the bottom of your chest, the burn sharp and immediate as he stretched you wide around his girth.

Jungwon didn't allow you even a second to adjust to him, simply pulling back and slamming forward again, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back. The pull sent sparks of pain through your scalp, mixing with the ache in your ass as he started pounding into you relentlessly. Each thrust jolted your body forward, your tits bouncing against the edge of the table.

“Won won won!” His name fell like a relentless prayer from your lips, his free hand coming down hard on your ass cheek again, “ohhhh, oh God I’m close..”

 The slap echoed in the small room, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He didn't stop—thwack, thwack, thwack—alternating cheeks with every few pumps of his hips, turning your ass red and raw. The pain fueled the heat building low in your belly, your pussy clenching emptily even as he reamed your ass.

He picked up speed again, his cock draagging against your inner walls. Your body shook, the overstimulation hitting like a wave—every nerve lit up, your ass throbbing around him, the pulls on your hair making your vision blur.

"Shit—you’re close…” He reached around, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in fast, merciless circles, “Cum for me pretty girl.” His voice was rough in your ear as he leaned over you, chest pressing against your back. It's too much—the rough drag of his cock in your ass, the burning slaps, the relentless tug on your hair, and now this direct assault on your swollen nub.

Your orgasm crashed over you, body convulsing as waves of pleasure-pain ripped through you. Your ass clenched spasmodically around his thrusting cock, milking him even as the overstimulation made tears prick your eyes. Your pussy gushed, wetness dripping down your thighs, your ass on fire, every thrust pushing you further into that hazy edge.

You bucked against him, sobbing through the climax, limbs going weak as aftershocks jolted through you. Jungwon felt you tighten, but he kept fucking you through it, drawing out the torment until you were a shaking mess.

“Jungwon…” You sigh, “Fuck that was—”

But Jungwon had other plans.

He pulled out with a wet pop, leaving you feeling empty and gaping, your hole twitching from the rough treatment. Before you could catch your breath, his hand tightened in your hair again, yanking your head back further until you were looking up at him, tears streaking your cheeks from the intensity.

Jungwon crashed his mouth down on yours, the kiss messy and desperate. His tongue forced its way past your lips, tangling with yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed exchange. He tasted like coffee and strawberries and he’s absolutely devouring you. With a huff, he broke the kiss, strings of spit connecting your lips, lust filled eyes burning into yours.

“On your knees.” Jungwon ordered, “Haven’t had that pretty mouth all week.” 

You dropped to the cool tile floor instantly, knees scraping as you settled between his legs. His cock, slick with your own juices, bobbed in front of your face—thick, veined, and still rock-hard, the head flushed red.

You looked up at him through your lashes, a mischievous spark in your eyes despite the ache in your body. Leaning in, you flicked your tongue out, tracing juust the tip lightly, swirling around the slit without taking him in. His thighs tensed, a low tch escaping him, but you kept nipping gently at the base before pulling back with an innocent smile.

“That's enough games.” Jungwon snapped, voice edged with frustration. His fist tightened in your hair, pulling sharply until your scalp stung and your mouth hovered inches from his cock. “Suck it properly, or you won’t get cock for the entire week.” 

You knew that threat held no actual water, but you parted your lips anyway. He tugged again—harder this time, roots protesting as he guided you onto him. His cock slid over your tongue, filling your mouth with his salty taste. 

As always, Jungwon refused to give you time to adjust to him, thrusting shallowly to push deeper, the head bumping the back of your throat. You gagged a little, eyes watering, but hollowed your cheeks and started sucking in earnest, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you bobbed your head. A guttural groan erupts from his throat, hand still fisted in your hair, controlling the pace.

 “Gooood girl.” The grip Jungwon had on your hair made your head throb at every whine and groan he let out. You always knew just how to ease the tension in his shoulders, make him absolutely fall apart for you. “Take it all like my good little slut.” 

Perhaps the stars had aligned in all the wrong places today, perhaps a butterfly flapped its wings or perhaps you two were especially horny today, but you didn't bother to close the door properly—a thin crack at the hinge allowing a sliver of view from the hallway outside. 

Asakura Jo considered himself to be a good employee. 

But good employees certainly didn't have their eyes locked onto their exec ops’ tits as she sucked off her coworker.

At 6 am in the evening, Jo hadn't expected anyone to still be in the office. He’d come looking for some files in the ancient printer room—where he never usually went, preferring to send his assistant. Jo stood there, frozen at first, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he caught sight of the scene. He was transfixed, heart pounding in his chest, as shock, and something more scandalous, took over him like a wave.

Watching you on your knees, sucking cock so eagerly, a rush of heat surged through him. His slacks tightened uncomfortably, his cock hardening instantly at the erotic display. A sort of raw desire pooled within him; he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be peeking, but he just couldn't tear himself away.

Jo's gaze locked onto your exposed body, the way your shirt hung open, your breasts swaying with each movement of your head. He'd always fantasized about those tits, imagining burying his face between them during late-night meetings when you'd lean over his desk, to sweetly guide him about office policy and whatnot. 

Glancing around the empty hallway to ensure privacy, Jo's hand trembled as he unzipped his fly, going red upon seeing his aching erection. It was stiff and leaking pre-cum already, the tip flushed from the sight of your face, eyes closed, head bobbing, your tongue occasionally flicking out. What Jo would do to be in Jungwon’s position.

He wrapped his fingers around the length, stroking slowly at first, matching the rhythm of your bobbing head. His breath fogged up his glasses, the lenses clouding with each heavy exhale as sweat beads on his forehead. The steam from his arousal made everything blur, but he quickly removed his glasses, desperate to keep watching.

“F-Fuck Y/N….” He gasped softly.

In his mind, it's him you were servicing—your pretty lips stretched around his cock, those beautiful eyes looking up at him with a cheeky gaze as you teased the head with your tongue. He imagined pulling your hair himself, guiding you down until you gagged on him, your tits bouncing with the motion.

 A low, muffled groan escaped his throat, stifled by his clenched teeth, as he pumped his fist faster. The risk of getting caught only heightened his pleasure, his balls tightening with the building pressure. Jo leaned closer to the door crack, the wood cool against his shoulder, lost in the fantasy of claiming you right there, your mouth hot and wet around him while Jungwon watched helplessly.

Sounds of your gags came to a pause as you pulled off for a breath of fresh air. The string of spit that connected you with his dick was soon to be broken when you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the pulsing head of his cock. 

“Where do you want to cum, Won? On my tits?” Lidded eyes, both outside and inside the room, stared at the way your tongue traveled along the prominent veins, “Hmmm, how about my mouth?” 

Pushing your shirt fully off your shoulders, the lace wrapped around your chest leaves little to the imagination. A satisfied smirk tugs on Jungwon’s mouth.

Your throat tightened around Jungwon's cock as he thrusted deeper, the head bumping against the back of your mouth with insistent force. 

“Ah fuck…..pretty girl suckin’ me off like its her job.” He rasped, his fingers pulling until your scalp stung deliciously, "Swallow it, go on.” The burn fueled your own heat, your pussy clenching emptily as you hummed around him, vibrations drawing a sharp hiss from his lips, “All of it.”

Outside the door, Jo's strokes quickened as well, fist gliding over his slick length with desperate urgency. The sight of you—lips puffed and red, cheeks hollowed as you took Jungwon's cock—pushed him closer. 

The image burned into his mind: your tits heaving with each breath, nipples hard against the cool air; he bit his lip hard to muffle the groan building in his chest, pre-cum beading at his tip and smearing over his knuckles. 

“Gonna fill this pretty mouth.” He warned through gritted teeth, his free hand slamming against the desk for support as he drove in one last time. You felt him swell, pulse hot and heavy on your tongue, and then he erupted—thick ropes of cum flooding your mouth, salty and thick, coating your throat as you swallowed greedily around him. The force of it made you cough lightly, but you held on, milking every spurt with flicks of your tongue.

At the exact same moment, Jo shattered as well. His hand blurred over his cock, a choked gasp escaping as orgasm ripped through him. Cum spurted onto the hallway floor in messy arcs, his knees buckling slightly while he gripped the doorframe for stability. 

Waves of pleasure crashed over him, intensified by the taboo of it all—watching you swallow another man's load, your eyes watering but locked on Jungwon's face in submission. It's the hottest thing he'd ever seen, his crush on you twisting into something filthy and obsessive. He pumped through the aftershocks, wringing out every drop until his cock twitched soft in his palm.

“Look so pretty like this….” Jungwon’s eyes were hooded, utterly drunk on your mouth, “my pretty girl.”

You pulled off Jungwon's cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the glistening tip. “Your pretty girl?” Licking your mouth clean, you rose on shaky legs, "Wasn't aware we were a thing.” 

Jungwon watched you with a satisfied smirk, tucking himself away as you fumbled for your clothes. As you straightened your hair, Jungwon's eyes flicked to the door. Through the narrow crack, he caught a glimpse.

Oh?

This was interesting.

Jungwon was the first one to notice the earth shattering crush Jo had on you. Normally, it should have made him jealous and full of possessive rage, but he was just…faintly amused. It was fun to see you tease Jo too, always unbuttoning at least two buttons before you went into his office.

And there the man of the hour was right outside the printer room, hastily zipping up, face flushed crimson behind smeared glasses. Jungwon's lips curled into a knowing grin, but he said nothing, filing the secret away like a loaded gun. Whatever leverage this gave him, he'd use it later—maybe to pull you into something even riskier.

For now, however, he merely adjusted his tie and moved on, shaking his head when you asked him why he was smiling like a bastard. 

“Better get back before Jo notices.” Jungwon whistled, as you smoothed your skirt, “Say, do you still think he’s hot?”

You turned your head slowly to him, closing your eyes for a second and inhaling deeply. “Why do you ask my sweet Jungwon?” 

“No reason.” He replied briefly, “Just….thoughts.”

____________________

Jo was a shy man. Confident as hell when he was presenting monthly figures, but a red mess when the CEO asked him how his day had been. He was a human oxymoron—and that’s what piqued your curiosity.

Sure he was respectful and all that bullshit, but by god was he the hottest human being to ever grace your earth. If he wasn’t so damn shy, if his ears didn’t go turnip red everytime you told him you liked his tie, you would have made that man fuck you stupid in the middle of the meeting room, out in the open for everybody to see.

Those long, slender fingers of his, you'd often find yourself staring at them during meetings, imagining what they'd feel like gliding over your skin. The way he held a pen, with such finesse and control, made you wonder how skilled those hands would be in more…..intimate areas. 

As the head of marketing, you were used to getting what you wanted when you wanted it—the amazing things power can do. 

And what you wanted right now was Jo, sprawled out naked on the armchair in his office, those gorgeous blushes spreading across every inch of his body as you rode him till both your brains were completely fucked out. You knew it wouldn't take much to make him crack, to turn that bashful stutter into a symphony of moans.

And ever since you made Jungwon spill the truth about him three days after your little encounter (“I swear I was going to tell you when the time came.” “Hopefully it would have been before I died.”), you had decided that you’d waited long enough. It was time to make your fantasy a reality, to show Jo just how much you would have loved his mouth on your tits.

As you sauntered into Jo’s office, you made sure to arch your back just right as you bent to pick up a pen, accentuating all the right parts of your body in a way that would make anyone weak in the knees. You caught him sneaking a glance at your chest, as you leaned against his desk.

“It's 7 in the evening.” You said crossing your arms, “What are you doing working all alone, handsome?” His ears turned an even deeper shade of red.

“I could say the same for you.” Jo leaned back in his chair, you watched his adam’s apple bob a bit, “You usually go by 5 don't you?” 

“You noticed?” You did a little faux gasp, “I just had some extra stuff to do today, with Jungwon not coming in today.” You scoffed, “Little shit cancelled on me last minute because of some cactus convention.” You rolled your shoulders back, “I’m a walking corpse at this point.”

“You have me there.” Jo said, rubbing his stiff shoulders, “I’m firing the person who scheduled back-to-back meetings for me all day today.” You watched his large hand rub over his muscles, that pressed against his tight (slutty) shirt.

Well, well, well.

“Poor you.” You purred, walking around to stand behind his chair, “Let me help you with that.”

Without waiting for a response, you started to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension melt away under your skilled fingers. Jo let out a low groan, his head lolling forward as you worked out the kinks in his muscles.

Internally though, all that was going on in his mind was abort, abort, system failure, ABORT.

Your hands were pure magic against his stiff shoulders, somehow taking away all the stress and the stupid reviews and resolutions and what not, with a flick of your wrist. Jo’s mind wandered to distant places, imagining where else those beautiful hands could come in use.

Jo glanced down and a very obvious boner greeted him, straining against the fabric of his pants as if to say ‘Hey there you horny bastard! Why don’t you take care of me already?’

“You know you don’t— you really don’t have to—” Jo started, but your thumbs pressed into a tight knot near his neck and the rest of the sentence dissolved into a very undignified exhale. He cleared his throat immediately afterward, as if that would erase the sound.

You bit your lip to suppress a grin, knowing that you're the one who's caused the tent in his pants. But you pretended not to notice, continuing to knead his shoulders as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

"Does that feel good, Jo?" You asked innocently.

"Y-Yeah," He stammers, his voice husky with desire. "That feels really good."

“You know I give really good massages."  You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Everybody says so.”

“Oh yeah?” Jo hummed. His brain was no longer cooperating. Every nerve seemed hyper-aware of exactly where your hands were, how close you were standing, the faint brush of your sleeve when you shifted.

“I can show you.” You said sweetly, “You’re coming to the party tomorrow right?” You watched his ears turn an even deeper shade of red and stood back up straight, letting your hand linger on his upper back for a second.

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” Jo fidgeted in his chair, eyes darting between your face and your chest, “But I suppose I could swing by for a bit.” 

“Great!” You giggled, putting your hands down on the table, juust right so he could see your chest properly, “See you there, handsome.”

“Y-Yeah.” Jo said in a quiet voice, as you made your way out, grinning to yourself. 

Jo remained fully frozen in his seat for a full three minutes, watching you gather your things, swing your handbag over your shoulder and exit the office. He leaned back in his chair and watched the main hall’s lights being turned off. Only the warm golden light of his office remained shining in the dark, like some beacon that reminded him he wouldn't be locked up in here tomorrow. 

His heart hammered in his chest as something hot and nauseating flushed his body. A vivid memory, seared into his brain came up—your mouth working cock, tits bouncing, the way you'd look doing it to him. Tonight, alone in his apartment, he'd replay it on loop—hand wrapped around his dick again, stroking to the fantasy of bending you over his desk, claiming those perfect breasts while you beg for more. 

Jo closed his eyes briefly, and sighed.

How was he supposed to survive tomorrow?

___________________

Jungwon was bored.

It had been all of fifteen minutes into the office party and he was utterly bored. You had texted him earlier, telling him you’d be running late. He brushed it off—after all, it wasn't like you two were getting any action tonight.

The party buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses of champagne, but he could barely focus on the chatter around him. All his focus was on one person tonight.

Asakura Jo.

He rarely ever came to these things, so him standing in the corner, brooding over his glass of sparkling liquor was an odd sight. But Jungwon could make an easy guess. You did sound way too excited yesterday when you were getting takeout with him, yapping away about all that you’d done to your poor boss. 

Evil, evil woman, Jungwon thought, sipping his champagne.

Jo was still in the same corner, nursing what was probably his second drink — not that he looked like the type to lose control. He stood straight-backed, tie slightly loosened, expression carefully composed in that way that screamed get me out of here.

Jungwon gave it exactly three more minutes before deciding he’d suffered enough. He adjusted his cuff and sauntered over.

“Didn’t know this place had a statue exhibit,” He said casually. “You’ve been standing in this exact spot since I got here.”

“I’m observing.” Jo shot back, “Some of us prefer the quiet.”

“At a party?”

“At this party.”

“Speaking of which—” Jungwon smirked, “—why are you here? You never come to these things.”

There it was—the faintest tightening of Jo’s jaw. Bingo.

“I was invited.” Jo replied, voice infuriatingly calm, “Can’t refuse that now can I?”

“You’ve rejected my invitation to get a drink….lets see now…six entire times.” Jungwon’s eyes crinkled into crescent moons as he smiled sweetly, “But then again, nobody can refuse our sweet girl.” 

Jo’s sharp eyes flicked toward him. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Sure you do.”

The music shifted into something louder, bass heavier, and a group near the center of the room erupted into cheers. Jo didn’t glance their way, instead staring straight ahead at a plant like it held the universe’s secrets. There was no way he could have seen right?

“You know she was very excited about tonight.” Jungwon swirled his champagne.

“She seems to enjoy social events.” Jo exhaled through his nose, leaning his head back against the wall. 

“Oh trust me, it’s not the event she was excited about.”

Jo’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass before he caught himself. “Jungwon, are you perhaps attempting to—”

“I’m not attempting anything.” Jungwon’s grin widened. “I’m just saying, she was practically glowing yesterday.”

Jo didn't answer immediately, adjusting his glasses instead—a subtle tell Jungwon had learned to observe over months of observation. 

Jo didn’t answer immediately.

“She’s…..zestful.” Jo said at last.

“Zestful,” Jungwon echoed, unable to hide the absolute delight in his voice. “Is that the official term?”

“Is there a reason you’re bringing her up?” Jo asked, narrowing his gaze. 

“Can’t I talk about my coworker now?”

“You rarely do.” Jo chuckled coldly. “If anything, I’ve only ever heard you talk about work and cactuses.” Before Jungwon could fire back however, his gaze drifted over to the door. 

Bingo. 

“Speak of the devil.” He chuckled, nudging Jo’s shoulder. Jo followed his gaze over to the door, and felt the earth stop spinning on its axis.

A dangerously low-cut black dress hugging your body perfectly, the deep V plunging between your boobs, a thigh high slit revealing flashes of skin with every single step. If there really was a heaven on earth, Jo thought he’d found it.

Jungwon watched Jo’s system crash happen in real time. The stillness, the widening of Jo’s eyes before he masked it, the way his posture straightened unconsciously, the way his fingers tightened on his glass, probably tight enough to break the fragile crystal.

“She’s here.” Jungwon said, helpfully.

“I can see that.” There was a slight waver in his usually composed tone of voice. But he couldn't bear to look away. You laughed at something someone near the door said, then began weaving through the crowd. You hadn’t spotted them yet. Or maybe you had.

Whatever it was, his brain was no longer functioning at optimal speed. Every detail seemed magnified — the way you carried yourself, the faint sparkle at your wrist when you moved. The party had already overwhelmed him and you were only making it worse—the sight of your cleavage straining against the fabric, the way the dress clung to your hips, it all stirred something feral.

Jo became suddenly, painfully aware of himself. Was his tie straight? Did he look good standing here? Should he have worn something different? Why had he agreed to this again?

Jungwon leaned closer. “You don’t look too good, boss.”

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe don’t break your glass first and I’ll believe you.” Jo forced his grip to relax, at Jungwon’s words, praying to whatever God was listening that his inner thoughts weren't visible anywhere on his body.

Across the room, your eyes finally landed on them. You smiled and the only image Jo’s brain cells were giving him was that of you on your knees, lips stretched around cock, saliva dripping down your chin and you bobbed your head eagerly. Jo tightened his jaw and forced a sip down.

“You’re staring, boss.” Jungwon chuckled. This was the best day of his life.

Jo blinked slowly and dragged his gaze away with visible effort. “I am not.”

“Sure.” Jungwon hummed, watching you walk across the room to them. You really weren't kidding when you told him you’d be wearing your battle armor for this party. 

When you finally reached them, you tilted your head slightly and smiled at Jo, making his pulse behave in highly unprofessional ways.

“Well,” You said lightly, “look who actually showed up.”

“Management decided to bless us with his presence.” Jungwon slid in smoothly. Jo shot him a look. You turned your attention fully to the tall man then — eyes scanning him up and down. Fuck, he looked like a five course meal, dessert included.

“Well, I’m glad you came.” You said, taking the glass Jungwon handed to you.

Simple words, but Jo’s brain treated them like a full system overload.

“Of course,” He replied, voice steadier than he felt. “I said I might.”

“And you did.” Your smile sharpened slightly. “I’m impressed.” Jungwon looked between the two of you like he was watching live entertainment.

“I’m going to get another drink.” He announced, “You two catch up on…..whatever you two talk about.”

“Jungwon—” Jo started. But Jungwon was already gone, leaving Jo alone with you and the hum of the party.

And the faint, dangerous tilt of your smile.

“You look nervous,” You observed gently, “But parties aren't really your vibe are they?” 

“I’m not nervous.” Jo replied automatically, chuckling at your raised brow, “I just prefer quieter environments." 

“So,” You nodded thoughtfully, stepping a little closer so you wouldn’t have to raise your voice over the music, “not this.”

God, your perfume smelled sooo good.

A group nearby burst into laughter, the bass vibrating faintly through the floor. Colored lights flickered across the room, catching briefly in your hair, along the line of your jaw. Jo’s attention drifted down for half a second before he dragged it back up to your eyes.

Focus, idiot..

“You don’t seem uncomfortable.” He added, knowing silence would only be more dangerous for his situation.

“I’m not.” You smiled easily. “I like stuff like this. Helps me loosen up a bit.”

“And do you?” He asked before he could stop himself, “Intend to loosen up tonight, I mean.”

“Mayybe.” You giggled into your drink., which was not helpful.

Jo cleared his throat. “You mentioned this party as though it were… significant.”

“Oh?” You cocked your head to the side. “Did I?”

“You seemed invested in my attendance.”

“I was.” You admitted plainly. “Because you never come to these things. And I was curious.” You took a slow sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his.

“Curious about what?” 

“How you’d act outside the office.” Jo felt that land somewhere in his chest, the alluring scent of your perfume filling his senses to the brim.

“And your conclusion is?” He asked.

“And,” You stepped a fraction closer again, close enough so he would be forced to look at your cleavage, God bless his towering height, “I think I’m still figuring that out.”

Jo’s heartbeat was no longer cooperating. He became acutely aware of where his hands were, how stiff his posture looked, whether he seemed ridiculous standing this straight at a party where everyone else had long since relaxed.

“I behave the same.” He said carefully.

“Do you?” Your gaze dropped briefly, lingering somewhere very inappropriate then going back to his face, “I think I might need proof.” You laughed, bright and unfiltered, and that was Jo’s curtain call.

“Excuse me.” He said suddenly, stepping back before you could fully draw him in “I think I need some air.”

Without waiting for you to question it further, he turned and navigated through the crowd with brisk efficiency, ignoring the knowing look Jungwon shot him from across the room.

The hallway outside the office space was blissfully quiet. Jo walked straight past the break room, past the conference area, and into his office. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, breathing in deeply and exhaling. 

Could he get more pathetic?

Jo pushed off the door and crossed to his desk, sinking into his leather chair, loosening his tie, his hand drifting to the growing bulge in his slacks as he pictured your mouth on him, just like it had been on Jungwon. He rolled his shoulders once, as if to physically shake off the tension.

The image of you standing there, replayed in his mind with irritating clarity. The way you’d said you were curious about him and the way you’d looked at him like he was something to figure out. Your exposed neck, practically begging for his teeth, his lips—marks to claim what he was craving like a starved animal. 

“Get it together.” Jo muttered under his breath, taking his glasses off and massaging his temple with his fingers.

This was a party, a simple social gathering and he was an adult. He could (should) handle being around a woman without internally combusting. He thought about the beautiful flesh of your thigh peeking out from the slit and something in his chest tightened. 

A soft knock sounded at his door.

“Jooooo.” A voice drifted through the wood, “I know you’re in here.” 

“What do you want Jungwon.” Jo sighed, closing his eyes. He was definitely not in the right mindset to deal with Jungwon’s bullshit without impaling him in the chest right now.

The door opened, and Jungwon sauntered in, still holding a drink from the party. He closed the door softly, leaning against it with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Rough night, boss?” Jungwon asked, his voice laced with amusement. Jo straightened, trying to compose himself, but Jungwon's eyes flicked momentarily to the very obvious tent in Jo's pants. 

“You know Y/N’s missing you out there.” Jungwon sighed dramatically, “Poor girl, you don't want to disappoint her do you?” 

“If you’re trying to insinuate that I like her in some way—” Jo glared up at him, “—I must tell you that it's highly unprofessional." 

“Unprofessional?” Jungwon burst out laughing, “What’s unprofessional is the way you were staring at her, boss.” He slowly moved to the armchair and coffee table in the corner of the room facing Jo, plopping down on it as if he owned the space, “I don’t blame you though. That dress is really something.” He titled his head back, letting it rest on the plush headrest, “But you know what really gets me? The way she sucks cock. Like, fucking pro-level.” He barked a cocky laugh, “She takes every damn inch till she's gagging, and she still has the audacity to beg for more. Oh don't even get me started on that pretty little tongue.” Jungwon's words hung in the air, bragging without shame, painting vivid pictures that made Jo's face flush. 

“Jungwon what the hell are you—”

“Relax boss.” Jungwon cut him off with a harsh chuckle, “You saw us in the printer room, didn't you? Jerking off like a perv. Don’t deny it.” Jo's words died on his lips.

They say fate has its mysterious ways—sometimes using its power to make a butterfly flap its wings, make a tornado destroy towns and other sorts of mischief. Whatever fate did, Jo was cursing it out in his mind in every language he knew, when the door opened and the cause of all his mental strain stepped in. 

Your heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the scent of your perfume trailing behind you as you turned the lock of the door with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the tense silence. 

Your eyes locked onto Jo’s, seductive smile curving your glossy lips as you approached his desk. Jungwon watched from his place, settling into the armchair with his legs spread. You didn't spare him a glance yet, your focus locked in on Jo, and the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, hands gripping the armrests.

You sauntered towards Jo's desk, hips swaying with each step. You could see the way his eyes widened as you approached, his dark gaze roaming over your body appreciatively. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of power, knowing that you had such an effect on him.

"And what are the both of you doing in here?" You asked, batting your eyelashes innocently. You made sure to lean against the desk so that Jo had a perfect view of the front of your dress.

Jungwon let out a harsh bark of laughter from his perch on the armchair. "Oh, Jo and I were just talking about you." He said, tone dripping with innuendo. "He was really….…admiring you."

You glanced over at Jungwon, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Is that so?" You purred, turning your attention back to Jo. "And what exactly was he admiring, hmm?"

You could see the way Jo was struggling to maintain his composure, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You decided to take pity on him, striding around the desk and perching yourself on the edge of it in front of him. You slowly took his hand in yours and placed it on your exposed thigh. 

“Go on Jo.” You trailed a finger down his chest, “Tell me what you were admiring about me.”

Jungwon chuckled from the corner, leaning forward in his seat. “I don’t think he can do that with you so close, baby.”

“Oh my.” You gasped, “Well then, how about this?” You slid off the table, placing your hands on Jo’s broad shoulders as you lowered yourself slowly onto his lap, feeling his hardness press against your panties through his pants, “You think you can tell me now?”

Jo’s gaze raked over you, dark and hungry—something you’ve never seen before, but by god was it the hottest thing ever. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“You know, this is not very professional.” He mumbled, voice low as ever, “But you did offer to give me a massage.” His breath hitched as he felt your hands roam low, brushing over his abs, “May I take you up on that offer, sweetheart?”

“Hmm.” You hummed sweetly, “You do look tense right.” You leaned in so that your breath ghosted his ears. The fabric of your dress rode up as you settled onto him more comfortably. Jo's hands hesitated at your hips, but they eventually rested there when you gave an experimental roll of your hips.

Jungwon, meanwhile, leaned back in the armchair, his hand already palming himself through his pants. 

“Go on Jo. You want her, don’t you?” Jungwon drawled lazily, “Undo that zipper at the back. Slowly.” 

Jo's fingers trembled slightly as they found the pull, sliding it down painfully tardy, the sound of the zipper teeth parting filling the room. The dress loosened, and you shrugged it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your waist, revealing the black lace lingerie beneath—a bra that barely contained your breasts, the sheer cups leaving your nipples visible and hardening in the cool air, matching panties that hugged your ass and pussy like a second skin.

Jo’s sharp eyes lingered on the way your soaked panties clung to your folds, the fabric translucent from how wet you were. In a moment of confidence, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and yanked them down your legs in one swift motion, tossing them aside. 

"Is this what you've been dreaming about, Jo?" You enticed him, grinding against him teasingly. "Having me sit on your lap?” 

“And if I said yes?” Jo breathed slowly, feeling his pants stain with your wetness.

You grinded against Jo's lap, feeling his cock throb beneath you, and reached for his belt. 

“Let me take care of you.” You whispered, unbuckling it with deft fingers, then popping the button of his slacks and tugging the zipper down, freeing his rock hard cock from its confines. You shoved his pants and boxers to his thighs; he was surprisingly big, cock thick and veined all over, the pretty head already leaking pre-cum; you ran your tongue over your lips at the sight of it. Jo groaned, his head falling back, but he didn't take control, choosing instead to wait with pleading eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Jo.” You giggled, palming his cock, “Bet this pretty cock gets hard when you think of me, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah.” Jo shuddered against you, letting himself melt into your beautiful touch. All his senses knew were you, the shape of you, the scent of you, the feeling of your pussy on him—everything was just you, you, you. 

“You ready for me, baby?” You asked, tone innocent as a lamb. 

Jo's breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your hand around his thick, pulsing cock. He let out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily into your touch.

“Always.” 

You shivered at his words, feeling your own arousal growing. You gave his cock a firm stroke from base to tip, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered at the head.

Without hesitation, you lifted and positioned yourself above him, sinking down onto his cock. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. Inch by inch, you teased him, lifting and lowering in shallow movements, clenching your pussy around the tip before taking more.

The pain peaked, a deep, burning stretch that made you cry out, but then it ebbed slightly, morphing into a profound pressure, your walls molding to his shape.

His cock pulsed inside you, hot and insistent, and you felt every ridge, every throb as he held still, letting your pussy flutter and stretch around him. 

“Fuck—you’re so big Jo.” You let out a breathy chuckle, making him whimper softly, his hips twitching but not thrusting up—letting you set the pace. Ever the gentleman, you thought. He stilled completely at your praise, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.

"Oh fuckkkk" Jo groaned, his head falling back against the chair as you started to rock your hips. "F-Feel so good…." His left hand made its way to your breast, kneading and squeezing it through the thin lace as you continued to ride him without any mercy. 

“Oh!” You moaned loudly, feeling his large hand touch you so wonderfully, “Jo, don’t stop please…” His hands explored your body, gripping your hips as he thrusted up into you, his cock stretching you deliciously with every push.

"Fuck, you feel so gooood.” His words came out loud and slurred, his face contorted in ecstasy. "So warm…."

"That's right, baby," You grinned, rolling your hips in a sensual rhythm. "Be a good boy and take what you want.”

Jo couldn't help but let his head fall back, eyes shut close as your pussy clamped down on him when he hit a particularly sensitive spot on you, loud groans and whines ripping from his chest. You never expected him to be this loud, his voice masking the music from the party outside. Well now, you had to fix that right?

“Shh pretty baby.” You cooed, reaching back to unclasp your bra letting your breasts fall free in front of his flushed face, “You gotta be quiet.”

But Jo, lost in the throes of passion, unable to control himself. "I can't help it," He whined, his hips bucking up into you. "It feels too good."

You grabbed his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. "If you can't keep quiet, I'll have to find something to keep that mouth busy then." You said, before pressing your breast against his lips.

Jo’s mouth found your tit almost desperately, his lips latching onto one nipple, tongue flicking over the stiff peak, swirling and lapping before he sucked it deep into his mouth, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You grinded down onto him harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you as he moaned against your chest.

"That's it," You purred, rocking my hips in time with his thrusts. "Keep sucking just like that." Marks bloomed under his attention—reddened skin from his eager bites, his teeth grazing just enough to sting pleasurably, "Good boy, Jo.” 

He switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same hunger, his hands finally gripping your waist but only to steady himself, not to guide. You rode him languidly, pussy stretching around his length, juices coating him as you teased, rising until just the head was inside before sinking back down fully, grinding your clit against his base. You could feel your orgasm approaching fast, your body tensing as you chased that sweet release.

In the corner, Jungwon had freed his own cock, stroking it with firm, deliberate pumps. His fist twisted over the head, slick with his pre-cum, eyes fixed on your back and your ass, bouncing with every up and down movement. His cock, unbelievably hard, twitched in his hand as he panted silently, mind going through every position the three of you could hit.

"Oh god," Jo groaned. "I'm going to cum."

“Beg for it.” You picked up the pace slightly, bouncing on Jo's cock, ass slapping against his thighs, but still teasing—edging him closer without letting him tip over, “Beg for it like a good boy.”

“Please….” He murmured against my skin, voice breaking, so unlike his usual authority, "Please please please I’ll be your good boy—fuckkk.” Jo's sucks grew frantic, leaving hickeys across the swells of your breasts, up to your neck. His teeth sank into the soft flesh below your ear, sucking a bruise that would linger, his tongue soothing the spot before biting again.

"Cum for me." You demanded, your voice high and breathy. 

With a final thrust, Jo let out a guttural moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep within your core. The feeling of his warm release sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you cried out in ecstasy.

Jo buried his face in your chest as you threw your head back, panting hard. You collapsed against him, both of you sweaty as you came down from your high. You could  feel Jo's softening cock still nestled inside you, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his dazed expression.

“That’s enough.” A sharp voice rang through the room, “My turn sweetheart, get over here.” You turned your head back to see Jungwon with his legs spread wiiide open, sitting languidly on the armchair and patting his thigh.

As Jo still basked in the afterglow of your session, you pulled off of his lap with a wet pop, feeling his cum dribble out of your well-fucked pussy and down your thigh. Jo let out a whimper but didn't protest, those pretty eyes of his glazed over, his cock slick and twitching in the air. 

You sauntered over to Jungwon, your hips swaying seductively, and dropped onto his thigh, straddling his leg, the rough fabric of his pants pressed against you, lips parting around the muscle as you settled.

"You like his cock better than mine, don't you?" Jungwon smirked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. "My pretty little slut. Couldn't be satisfied with just one cock could you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, enjoying the way Jungwon's grip on your hair tightened. He forced you down onto his thigh as he guided you into a slow, torturous pace. He flexed his thigh, pressing up into your clit, and you began to rock, forward and back, the friction building heat fast.

Jungwon chuckled darkly, his hand snaking down to grab your ass, fingers sinking into the flesh hard enough to leave imprints. "Fuck, you're so wet already, so desperate for another round. Such a greedy little slut."

You let out a frustrated whimper, desperately trying to grind down on his thigh to get some much-needed friction. Jungwon thrust his thigh up rhythmically, making you chase the pressure, your breasts bouncing with each roll of my hips. 

"Tell me who's cock you like better," Jungwon said, slapping your ass hard enough to sting. "Tell me, or I'll stop altogether."

He began to thrust his leg into you, firm muscle grinding against your clit with each upward push. The sensation was almost too much, the intense stimulation sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Jungwon maintained a steady rhythm, his eyes locked onto yours as he used you for his pleasure.

Well wouldn't this be fun?

“Jo.” You laughed breathily, trying not to moan, “I liked Jo’s cock better—fuck—Jungwon.” You watched as his eyes darkened, “He fills me up sooo good Wonnie, I love love love his cock so much, it’s like—” 

But before you could go any further, Jungwon’s fingers were digging into your hips as he pulled you off of him completely. He dragged you over to Jo’s chair and forced you down onto your knees in front of him.

Jo sat there, pants still bunched around his ankles, his thick cock standing rigid and veined, the tip flushed and weeping pre-cum from the teasing ride you'd given him moments ago. Jo's breath hitched, his hands gripping the armrests, eyes watching you with a mix of hunger and uncertainty, as you gripped his thighs with your hands. 

Jungwon positioned himself behind you, dropping to his knees on the floor. His hands gripped your hips, yanking his pants and boxers down. The cool office air hit your slick folds all of a sudden, making you shiver, but then his cock nudged against your entrance, thick and insistent, and you whimpered.