🙋‍♀️24

He gently pushed away the strands of hair off your face to look at you properly. His puppy eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re burning.” He laid his hand on your forehead, quickly followed by his soft lips. He always claimed that this was the best way to feel if you have a fever. You weren’t sure if you believed him.

“You have a fever, baby.” He murmured softly against your forehead. He leaned back only slightly to look at you properly, his hands came to cup your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick, baby?” You weakly shook your head. “Just period symptoms.“ Your voice was hoarse.

“Oh-“

A sharp pang struck in your lower belly. You gasped as you curled yourself back to your position, your hands holding your belly.

But somehow, you had breathed in too sharply or moved too fast which resulted in your stomach churning. Before he could even understand what was happening, you quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom in the hallway, next to his room.

“Yn??” He hastily followed behind, yet you were already hovering above the toilet bowl. “Baby?? What’s wrong??” He knelt down behind you, his hands instantly curling around your waist. Normally, his warm hands always soothed you and gave you comfort, but unfortunately now, the wrong placement of his hands made you more nauseous.

You quickly pushed his hands away before you began to vomit. You didn’t have the time to tie your hair, so you were trying to hold them back but some strands got dirty.

This was the rawest version of yourself you have ever shown to your boyfriend. Your relationship was still somewhat new, you have never shown him a bad side of yourself. You were beyond embarrassed, to say the least. But you couldn’t dwell in the embarrassment for too long as you continued to struggle to hold your hair and vomit your guts out.

Jake on the other side was beyond worried. He had never seen a woman affected by her periods this severely before. Matter of fact, he has never seen a person empty their guts out. Yet, as new and terrifying the situation was, all he felt was deep concern. His chest tightened at the sight as he looked at you with shaky eyes. His poor yn.

He reached out to take hold of your hair. But you shook your head in refusal. “Let me hold your hair,” he tried. But you refused once again. Your eyes were burning. Maybe more because of the humiliation than the literal fact that you were retching. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

And of course it got worse.

“Is everything alright?? What’s wrong??” A bewildered Niki stood outside the bathroom, worried eyes looking at your hunched body. The door wasn’t closed. The humiliation intensified 10x. “Is she okey??”

Vomiting in front of your boyfriend was one thing, but in front of his members? Yeah, that was truly the worst thing that could happen.

Before Jake could tell him that he didn’t know either, you rasped a quiet ‘close the door’. Jake froze for a second, not quite understanding what you told him. But as soon as he got it, he quickly shut the door in his face.

Eventually, your guts were emptied out but you still needed a few seconds until the gagging reflex stopped. And Jake sat there beside you, feeling like the dumbest and most useless person on earth. His hands were ready to hold you but by now he understood that he needed to give you space.

“Baby…” he murmured softly. His heart clenching at the sight.

Exhausted, your arm gave up to hold your hair, and you let yourself collapse on the cool tiles of the bathroom, curling your body slowly in. You didn’t care about the fact that you laid there on the dorm’s bathroom floor with dirty hair.

Slow tears escaped your eyes. Gosh, so humiliating. I’m such a mess.

Jake leaned slowly forward, still keeping his distance. He bit his lip in worry. He didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. But he wanted to hold you in his arms so badly.

Your glassy eyes met his. “This happens sometimes.” You rasped quietly. He almost didn’t catch it. A faint pout formed on his face. Concern overflowed him. “Is this also a symptom?” His tone was soft, like he was cautious if he spoke too loud something might happen.

You nodded weakly. Tears formed in your eyes again, you closed them immediately. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What? No, baby.” He shuffled closer to you, his hand slowly came to pat your head. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry. I should help you… but I don’t know what to do.”

Your lips trembled as you shook your head again, hiding your face from him. Then your shoulders began to shake as you just let yourself cry.

“Baby…” you ignored him as you continued to silently cry. You hated this. So much. Yet the need to be comforted by your boyfriend was also there. Even though you felt embarrassed and wanted to hide.

“Hey…” he murmured softly, you continued to hide your face with your arm. “it’s okey, my love.” He pressed a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “It’s okey. I’m here.” His hand never stopped patting your head as the other went to grasp your hand. His fingers curled around yours, his thumb faintly brushing over your knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere, hm? It’s okey, it will get better soon.” He hushed you as he pressed another kiss on your temple.

A sob escaped from your mouth causing a dull throb in your uterus. You gasped, your fingers tightened around his hand. He squeezed your hand lovingly, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as his other hand continued to pat your head.

When the pain stopped for a moment, you knew you had to take the chance to get up. With wobbly arms and legs you struggled to stand up. His arms immediately moved to hold you, his warm hands went your shoulder, helping you. But you shook your head, croaking a tired no. “When I make a wrong move, it will get worse.” You explained as you supported yourself on the sink. Jake nodded softly, his doe eyes following you.

“Can you-“ you hesitated. His eyes turned softer than before. “Jake… Can you give me a moment? Please?”

Jake’s shoulders slumped, almost unnoticeable. He hesitated for a moment, you looked like you were one step away from collapsing—how could he leave you alone like this?

“Okey… I’m waiting outside, okey? Call me if you need anything.” As he was about to shut the door he quickly peeked inside, “don’t lock the door, yeah?” He couldn’t help but worry that you might faint in the bathroom all alone.

After you had freshened up, brushed your teeth and washed the dirty strands of hair, you hesitated to meet your boyfriend again. You were still embarrassed that you vomited all over his bathroom. You stepped outside, hunched and clutching your lower stomach.

“Jake?” He snapped his head back at you, he was in the middle of arranging his blanket and fluffy pillows for you. He had already plugged in the electric heating pad, water and the painkillers waiting for you on the nightstand, alongside some freshly heated leftover because he remembered that you didn’t eat anything yet.

“I think I should head back home now.”

He gave you a bewildered look, “what??” He quickly went to you, taking your hands in his, “no, baby, you’re not leaving! Look at you! You’re about to faint any minute!” Your face was pale, sweat lingered on your skin, your hands trembled due to fatigue.

“But…” a lump formed your throat, “…I don’t want you to see me like this…” you mumbled quietly as tears formed your eyes.

He shook his head with scrunched eyebrows, not liking your answer at all. “What are you talking about?? Come here.” He sighed as he urged you to lay down by pulling you to the bed.

“Jake-” you gasped at the sudden movement. Eyes squeezing at the pain.

He halted immediately.

“Slowly.” You rasped. “I can’t move too fast or I’ll feel nauseous again.” His heart ached at your vulnerable voice. He nodded even though he didn’t quite understand what was happening.

That’s how you found yourself in his bed. Painkillers swallowed, heating pad snug warmly against your lower abdomen with your boyfriend spooning you with upmost care.

“Is this okey?” He spoke softly. You nodded against his pillow, your eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on top of his as he gently pressed the heating pad on your lower stomach.

“Does this happen every time?” He asked after a while. “Sometimes. When I don’t take the painkiller on time.”

He nodded against your neck, not quite understanding what was really happening with your body, what you meant by ‘sometimes’ or ‘on time’, but his heart was aching nonetheless. He didn’t like seeing you like this. That’s what he knew for sure.

Absentmindedly, his hold tightened around you. You whimpered painfully. “Ouch, Jakey- no-“

His hold relaxed immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“ he panicked.

“It’s okey.” You leaned your back against his chest, “just be careful.” You took his hands in yours and guided them underneath your shirt as you pushed down the hem of your pyjamas. You placed his hands cautiously on your lower belly, he could feel the warmth from the heater lingering on your soft skin.

“I’m really sensitive here. It gets quite swollen here during the first couple of days. You feel the difference from usual?”

His soft hands rested there, lingering and feeling. “It does feel different than usual.”

“Yeah- I don’t think it’s normal that it gets swollen like this. But that’s what happens.” You let out a small laugh, immediately hissing afterwards at the ache.

“Can you move your hands like this-“ you guided his hands by holding his wrists. “Yes- just like that,” you sighed as you closed your eyes at the relaxing feeling of his fingers massaging your sore belly muscles.

Jake kissed the back of your neck, rubbing the area exactly how you showed him—not too fast nor too rough. His fingers glided over your swollen lower belly with upmost care.

He hated seeing you so hurt. His heart truly ached at the sight. He buried his face in your hair, thinking about his girlfriend literally fighting for her life made him sad.

You squeezed his wrists affectionately. “Thank you, Jaeyunie. This is helping so much.”

“Of course, pretty.” He kissed your neck again, glad he was able to give you some comfort.

As he continued to massage your belly, your small voice echoed through the room, exhaustion evident in your voice: “This is way better than being alone.”

“I’m glad I can help, baby.”

“I’m sorry for ruining our date.” You mumbled in embarrassment, “I can’t believe I vomited. And Niki saw it, too. Its so embarrassing…”

“Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re hurting, baby, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He kissed your shoulder, his tone soft yet scolding.

“But still…”

“Nonsense, my love. Now close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A lump formed in your throat. Your heart squeezed, you were so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

“I love you.” You pouted, eyes turning misty. The hormones really messed you up.

“I love you too, pretty.”

“I don’t deserve you-“

“Shh.” He shushed you. “Sleep. Now.” He pressed a kiss on the shell of your ear.

He waited for your breath to even out. “You deserve everything and more.” He softly murmured at you before closing his eyes. His hands only came to a stop when he fell into slumber.

And that’s how Ni-ki found you two: cuddled up and sleeping with Jake’s hands resting on your lower belly.

He quietly tiptoed out of the room after placing your favourite snacks on Jake’s nightstand along with anti-nausea tablets.

Yeah. He was just as clueless as Jake.

⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬─────

Guess who’s having that time of the month? I was actually writing another fic but then I had to write this

Comments are always appreciated

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The Uber stopped in front of a massive dark iron gate flanked by well-kept walls covered in greenery. Two serious-looking security guards checked Mina’s QR code carefully, scanned the inside of the car with flashlights, and finally let you through.

The illuminated stone driveway curved between palm trees and modern sculptures before revealing the mansion — a striking contemporary building with clean lines, floor-to-ceiling glass, exposed concrete, brushed steel, and rich wood. An infinity pool on the side seemed to spill straight into the city lights and the bay below. The music reached you muffled but insistent: sensual R&B blended with deep electronic beats that you could feel in your chest.

The moment you stepped inside the main hall, the impact hit you hard.

The space was enormous. Double-height ceilings, massive crystal chandeliers slowly turning and casting purple, gold, and soft red reflections. Entire walls of glass offered a breathtaking panoramic view of Rio at night — from Sugarloaf Mountain to Christ the Redeemer and the illuminated coastline. The air conditioning was refreshingly cool against the humid heat outside, but the scent was intoxicating: aged whiskey, fine Cuban cigars, expensive colognes, gourmet appetizers, and a faint hint of sea breeze drifting in from the open terraces.

You felt like an intruder the second your heels touched the black marble floor.

Mina, of course, walked in like she owned the place. Within five minutes she had greeted a famous lingerie model, laughed with a well-known soap opera actor, and secured two sophisticated drinks at the polished black marble bar — a perfectly balanced cosmopolitan for you and a vibrant blue cocktail for herself.

“Drink slowly, but drink. Loosen up those tense shoulders. You look like you’re about to take a college entrance exam,” Mina teased, elbowing you lightly while scanning the room. “See that guy in the white shirt over there? European football player. Filthy rich. And that blonde in the gold dress? She travels by private jet. Let’s mingle a bit.”

Mina was unstoppable. She was your complete opposite: extremely outgoing, zero filter, naturally funny in a way that disarmed everyone. As you moved through the crowd, she effortlessly struck up conversations — complimenting dresses, cracking light jokes, exchanging numbers like it was nothing. At one point she disappeared for nearly twenty-five minutes with a quick “Just saying hi to someone, don’t disappear!” leaving you standing near the bar, stirring your drink and trying not to look awkward or lost.

You felt eyes on you. Some curious, some appraising, some interested. A woman in a gold dress looked you up and down. An older man in an expensive suit smiled and raised his glass, but you quickly looked away, cheeks warming.

When Mina finally returned, her eyes were sparkling with excitement, practically bouncing in her heels.

“Girl, you are NOT going to believe what I pulled off! Come with me right now!”

“Mina, wait… I’m fine here at the bar—”

It was useless. She grabbed your wrist and pulled you through the crowded room, weaving between dancing couples, loud laughing groups, and waiters carrying silver trays of colorful drinks and canapés. You climbed a few steps to a more elevated, semi-private area — a beautiful open terrace with an even more spectacular view of Christ the Redeemer and Guanabara Bay glittering in the distance. A large noble wood table was surrounded by comfortable beige and black leather sofas, lit by warm indirect lighting.

And there they were.

Hyunjin, the South Korean idol who split his time between Brazil and Asia and served as a global ambassador for luxury brands, reclined with his long black hair loose, laughing softly as he swirled a glass of rosé champagne. Beside him sat Changbin, a high-performance athletic trainer and former MMA fighter, his muscular build evident under a fitted black dress shirt. Minho owned an exclusive network of dance and pilates studios. Seungmin was a renowned corporate lawyer handling multimillion-dollar contracts. Felix worked as a performance engineer for racing cars. And at the center, commanding the entire space like the world was his personal playground…

Bang Chan.

The pilot. The Australian-Korean driver dominating motorsport categories across Latin America with strong international prospects. Athletic and well-defined from intense daily training, wearing a black dress shirt with several buttons open, revealing tanned skin and a thin gold chain. Dark tailored trousers that accentuated powerful thighs. Tousled light brown hair, sharp jawline, and piercing dark eyes. He was laughing at something Felix said, his deep, slightly raspy voice carrying, but the moment Mina pulled you closer to the table, his gaze locked onto you.

And didn’t let go.

“Everyone! This is my best friend I told you about!” Mina announced proudly, with zero filter. “I practically had to drag her here crying. She hates parties, hates crowds, hates all this glamour… but I insisted. Be nice to her, okay? She’s shy, sweet, and amazing.”

Hyunjin smiled warmly and elegantly.

“Welcome to the circus. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Champagne?”

You murmured a soft “thank you” and sat on the edge of the sofa, the cool leather pressing against your thighs. Your heart raced. Mina threw herself into the group as if she’d known them forever and immediately took over the scene.

She launched into a hilarious story about the time you two got lost at a rave years ago, imitating voices, making exaggerated faces, and gesturing dramatically. The whole group burst out laughing. Changbin slapped the table, Hyunjin covered his mouth with crescent-moon eyes, and even the more reserved Seungmin laughed genuinely. Mina was unbeatable at this — she could turn any situation into her own entertaining show.

Meanwhile, you stayed quieter, smiling politely and answering only when directly asked. But Bang Chan gave you no room to fade into the background.

He leaned forward, elbow resting on his thick thigh, and studied you openly. His gaze traveled slowly and deliberately: your crossed legs, hips, waist, the way the red dress outlined your chest, your neck, your lips, and finally your eyes. When they returned to your face, a slow, confident, and dangerously charming smile curved his lips.

“So you were dragged here against your will…” His voice was low and smooth, carrying that attractive Australian-Korean accent. “Feeling like an outsider in the middle of all this luxury, huh?”

You offered a small, shy smile and shrugged lightly.

“A little. Actually… a lot. This isn’t really my kind of environment.”

“I can tell,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something darker, more intense. “But damn… you look incredible in that red dress. You stand out from everyone else here — in the best possible way.”

Mina, catching the comment, let out a bright laugh and pointed at him.

“Oh my God, Chan! Going straight for it! He’s like that — no brakes. If he makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll throw champagne in his face.”

The group laughed. Chan chuckled along, deep and raspy, but his eyes never left you.

“What’s your name?” he asked directly.

You told him.

He repeated it slowly, tasting each syllable as if savoring how it might sound in other contexts.

“Beautiful. It suits you perfectly.” He took a slow sip of his amber drink, still watching you. “I’m Chan.”

“I know who you are,” you replied softly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Do you?” His smile widened, turning more predatory and intrigued. “And even knowing that, you’re treating me like any regular guy at the party. That’s interesting. Usually by now women are trying to sit on my lap or slipping me their numbers. You barely hold my gaze. Are you challenging me on purpose?”

You turned your face slightly and met his eyes just inches away. His cologne wrapped around you — dark wood, leather, warm spices, and a distinctly masculine note that made your stomach tighten.

“I’m not challenging anyone. I’m just not the type to jump into anyone’s lap just because they’re famous.”

Chan bit his lower lip slowly, his eyes darkening with clear interest and challenge.

“Good. Because I don’t want just anyone. I like the chase. I like earning it.” His voice dropped lower. “And you… look like a very tempting prize worth every dangerous turn on the track.”

The tension between you two was already thick, electric, even as the rest of the group continued laughing and chatting around you. Mina shot you a knowing, mischievous look from across the table and raised her eyebrows repeatedly as if saying, “Go for it, don’t miss this.”

The night had barely begun, but you already felt like you’d entered a high-speed curve with no seatbelt.

Bang Chan didn’t seem like the kind of man who gave up easily on something he wanted.

And from the hungry, possessive way he looked at you now, it was clear he wanted you.

---

𝟎𝟎:𝟓𝟎,𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨

The energy around the table had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the kind that only happened when the right mix of people clicked. Mina was the undeniable star of the moment. She had launched into yet another story — this time about the disastrous “romantic dinner” the two of you had attempted two years ago. The tale involved burnt garlic bread, a smoke alarm, panicked neighbors, and an eventual visit from the fire department. She told it with perfect timing, exaggerated gestures, and voices that had the entire group laughing hard.

Changbin was nearly crying, slapping the wooden table. Hyunjin covered his mouth, eyes curved into perfect crescents, while Felix kept asking for more details in his deep voice. Even Seungmin, usually the most composed, let out genuine laughs between sips of his drink. Minho watched everything with an amused smirk, occasionally adding dry commentary that made the story even funnier.

You laughed along, genuinely entertained by your best friend’s performance. But no matter how hard you tried to focus on the group, your awareness kept drifting back to the man sitting close beside you.

Bang Chan.

He lounged against the leather sofa with the relaxed confidence of someone who truly belonged in every room he entered. One arm rested along the back of the couch, fingers inches from your bare shoulder. His black shirt stretched across his broad chest and strong shoulders, the open buttons revealing just enough tanned skin and the faint gleam of his thin gold chain. He looked effortlessly powerful — the kind of man whose presence demanded attention without him needing to try.

And he was giving you all of his attention.

Not in an obvious way that would draw comments from the others. It was subtler, more dangerous. His gaze lingered on the curve of your neck when you turned to laugh at Mina. When you crossed your legs, his eyes followed the movement slowly, appreciatively. Every time you lifted your glass to your lips, he watched with quiet intensity, as if memorizing the way they pressed against the rim.

“You’re in marketing, right?” he asked during a lull, his voice low and smooth, carrying that rich Australian-Korean accent that made every word feel intimate. “Mina mentioned something about campaigns and social media. Sounds like you spend your days figuring out what makes people want things.”

You nodded, turning slightly toward him. “Pretty much. I create visuals and stories that make people stop scrolling. Try to make them feel something.”

Chan’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Interesting. You seem like someone who understands desire very well.” His eyes held yours a beat longer than necessary. “Even if you don’t always show it.”

The double meaning hung between you, light enough to pass as casual conversation, heavy enough to make your pulse quicken. You felt heat rise to your cheeks but refused to look away immediately.

“I’m better at reading what other people want than admitting what I want,” you replied softly, keeping your tone playful but guarded.

He chuckled quietly, the sound low and warm, sending a small shiver down your spine. “That’s a dangerous answer,” he murmured, leaning just a fraction closer. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder — barely there, almost accidental — as he reached for the bottle of champagne to refill his glass. “Makes me wonder how hard I’d have to work to find out what you really want tonight.”

Before you could respond, Mina turned back to the group with another burst of energy.

“Babe! Tell them about the client who wanted flying pigs in the campaign! It was absolute chaos!”

You jumped at the opportunity to shift focus and launched into the story, grateful for the brief escape. As you spoke, describing the ridiculous briefing and the creative team’s meltdown, you could feel Chan’s gaze on the side of your face, tracing your profile, dropping occasionally to your lips and the neckline of your red dress. When you finished, the group laughed again, but Chan was the first to comment.

“You tell stories well,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “Good eye for detail. That’s rare.” He paused, then added with a small smirk, “In my world, the smallest details are what separate winning from crashing at two hundred kilometers per hour. I like people who notice things… who pay attention.”

His arm shifted slightly on the backrest, now resting more deliberately behind you. The warmth of him was noticeable — the faint heat of his body, the clean masculine scent of his cologne (dark wood, warm spice, and something expensive). It wrapped around you like an invisible pull.

You met his eyes again. “And what about you? Do you always pay this much attention to… details?”

Chan’s smile turned sharper, more predatory, though still masked as friendly conversation. “Only when the details are worth it.” His gaze flicked down to your mouth for a split second. “And you’ve been very worth watching since you sat down.”

The tension crackled. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. He was good — very good. He knew exactly how to push without being overt, how to make every innocent sentence feel loaded.

The group conversation continued around you. Mina was now debating the best nightlife spots in Leblon with Hyunjin and Felix, her laughter ringing out. Changbin and Minho were trading training stories. Seungmin listened quietly, occasionally offering dry wit.

Chan took advantage of the divided attention.

“You know,” he said quietly, only for you, “most women who end up at this table spend the whole night trying to impress me. Flirting hard. Laughing at everything I say. You… you’re doing the opposite. You’re making me work for every smile.” He tilted his head, studying you. “It’s refreshing. And fucking attractive.”

The mild curse word, spoken low and rough, sent a spark through you. You turned to face him more directly, your knee brushing against his thigh under the table. Neither of you pulled away.

“Maybe I’m not here to impress anyone,” you said softly, holding his gaze. “Maybe I’m just here because Mina dragged me.”

“And yet,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you haven’t left. Even though I can tell part of you wants to run.” His fingers finally made proper contact — a slow, light trace along your shoulder, barely skimming your skin. “Tell me the truth. Are you having fun yet, or are you still planning your escape route?”

You hesitated, then gave him a small, honest smile. “I’m… having more fun than I thought I would.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Good. Because I’d hate for you to leave before the night gets interesting.”

Time stretched. More stories were told. More drinks were poured. Mina kept shooting you knowing glances, barely hiding her excitement. At one point, Hyunjin suggested moving to another part of the mansion or even heading to a different venue later.

Chan waited for the perfect moment, then spoke casually but clearly.

“Actually,” he said, looking straight at you while addressing the group, “I was thinking about taking the Ferrari out for a drive. The view from the top of the mountain at this hour is insane. Quiet roads, city lights everywhere.” His eyes locked onto yours, intense and inviting. “If you want a break from the noise… you should come with me.”

The invitation landed heavily. It sounded innocent enough — a scenic drive. But the way he looked at you made it clear this was anything but innocent. The tension between you had been building for nearly an hour in stolen glances, light touches, and layered words. This was the first real step.

You didn’t answer right away. You let the silence stretch, holding his gaze, feeling your heart race. Part of you wanted to say yes immediately. Another part enjoyed making him wait.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips.

Chan leaned back, but his eyes never left yours. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, confident smirk — the look of a man who loved the chase and was certain he would win.

“Take your time,” he murmured, voice low and promising. “I’m very patient when something — or someone — is worth waiting for.”

Mina raised an eyebrow at you across the table, barely containing her grin. The rest of the group continued chatting, seemingly unaware of the electric current running between you and Chan. But you both knew.

The night was still young, the city lights sparkled below, and the tension between you had grown into something undeniable — slow-burning, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep playing hard to get.

And Chan looked like he was more than ready to turn up the heat.

---

𝟎𝟏:𝟐𝟎, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The laughter around the table continued, but you needed a moment to breathe. The constant weight of Chan’s gaze, the subtle brushes of his fingers, and the electric tension had started to feel overwhelming. Your cheeks were warm, your heart was racing faster than it had any right to, and you could barely focus on the conversations anymore.

You leaned slightly toward Mina and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”

Mina nodded immediately, eyes sparkling with understanding. “I’ll come with you.”

You both stood up, excusing yourselves politely. As you walked away from the table, you could feel Chan’s eyes following you the entire way — heavy, appreciative, and unmistakably hungry. You didn’t dare look back.

The mansion’s bathroom area was just as luxurious as the rest of the house: marble floors, soft golden lighting, massive mirrors, and individual stalls that felt more like small private rooms. The moment the heavy door closed behind you two, Mina let out a dramatic squeal and grabbed your arms.

“Oh. My. God. Girl!” she whisper-shouted, her voice echoing slightly off the marble. “Did you see the way he was looking at you? Bang Chan was practically undressing you with his eyes right there at the table! I thought he was going to pull you onto his lap in front of everyone!”

You covered your face with both hands, leaning back against the cool marble counter. Your cheeks were burning.

“Mina, stop! I’m dying of embarrassment here,” you groaned, voice muffled by your palms. “He’s so… intense. Every time I move, he’s watching. Every time I speak, he has some double-meaning comment. I feel like I’m under a spotlight. Why me? There are so many gorgeous women here tonight.”

Mina pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. Her expression was a perfect mix of amusement and excitement.

“Because you’re hot, babe! And you’re not throwing yourself at him like everyone else does. That man is used to women crawling all over him. You sitting there being all shy and composed? It’s driving him crazy. I saw the way he leaned in every time you spoke. His arm was basically around you by the end. He is so into you.”

You paced a little in front of the mirror, fixing your dress even though it didn’t need fixing.

“I know he’s flirting. It’s so obvious. The way he talks… the touches… that accent. God, his voice is dangerous. I keep getting goosebumps every time he gets close. But Mina… this is Bang Chan. Famous pilot, rich, ridiculously hot, and probably has a different girl in every city. I feel so out of my league.”

Mina hopped up to sit on the marble counter, crossing her legs and grinning like she had just won the lottery.

“Exactly! That’s why you should enjoy it! It’s not every day a guy like him sets his sights on you. Most girls would kill for this kind of attention. He’s clearly interested. Like, seriously interested. The whole table noticed. Hyunjin kept raising his eyebrows at me, and Felix was smirking the entire time. Chan was eating you up with his eyes. I’m surprised he didn’t start drooling.”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “You’re exaggerating…”

“I’m not! When you told that story about the flying pigs campaign, he was staring at your mouth the whole time. And when your leg brushed his under the table? I thought he was going to break his glass. Girl, the tension between you two is insane. Even I could feel it from across the table.”

You turned to the mirror, checking your reflection. Your face was flushed, eyes a little brighter than usual, lips slightly parted. The red dress suddenly felt tighter, more revealing.

“He invited me to go for a drive with him,” you admitted quietly. “Said the view from the top of the mountain is beautiful at this hour. Just the two of us in his Ferrari.”

Mina’s eyes widened dramatically and she let out another excited squeak.

“Yes! Say yes! Go with him!”

“Mina!” you laughed, half mortified. “It’s past midnight. We barely know him. What if—”

“What if he fucks you senseless in the Ferrari and you have the best night of your life?” she finished boldly, grinning. “Look, I’m not saying be reckless, but… live a little! This is the kind of story you tell your grandchildren someday — ‘Yeah, I had a wild night with a famous race car driver in Rio.’”

You covered your face again, laughing despite the embarrassment.

She softened her tone a bit, still smiling but more serious. “Okay, okay. Be safe, obviously. Share your location with me the whole time. Keep notifications on. If anything feels off, call me and I’ll come get you, no questions asked. Rio at night can be tricky, even in fancy cars. But Chan seems respectful enough, and he knows everyone here. I don’t think he’d risk his reputation doing something stupid.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “He’s just… so much. The way he looks at me makes me feel naked. And when he talks close to my ear… I swear my brain stops working.”

Mina hopped down from the counter and hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder while both of you looked at the mirror.

“That’s the feeling you should chase tonight. You deserve to feel desired. You work so hard, you’re always so responsible… for once, let a hot, rich, talented man spoil you a little. Or a lot.” She winked. “And if you end up having sex… use protection, please. I’m way too young and hot to be an aunt right now.”

You burst out laughing, pushing her playfully. “Mina! Oh my God!”

“What? I’m being realistic! That man looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Those thighs? Those hands? Yeah… you might not walk straight tomorrow.”

You shook your head, still laughing, but the nervousness was slowly mixing with excitement. The idea of being alone with Chan in his car, driving through the dark mountains with the city sparkling below… it was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

“So… you think I should go?” you asked, voice smaller now.

Mina turned you around to face her, holding your shoulders.

“Yes. Go. Enjoy every second. Flirt back if you want. Let him chase you. Let him catch you if it feels right. But keep me updated. And remember: you’re a goddess. He should be the one feeling lucky.”

You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror one more time. The girl looking back seemed different — flushed, eyes bright with possibility, a little bolder.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll go.”

Mina squealed again and pulled you into a tight hug.

“That’s my girl! Now fix your lipstick, take a deep breath, and go make that man lose his mind. I want all the details tomorrow — or whenever you resurface.”

You both laughed as you touched up your makeup. The conversation, the teasing, and Mina’s encouragement had eased some of the overwhelming embarrassment. Now, underneath it all, anticipation was building.

As you walked back toward the table together, Mina leaned in one last time.

“And remember… if he kisses you, make sure it’s worth the drive.”

Your heart raced faster with every step. Chan was still at the table, talking with the others, but the moment you reappeared, his eyes found yours immediately. That slow, dangerous smile returned to his lips.

He already knew.

And from the way he looked at you now — darker, more certain — he could tell your answer was going to be yes.

The night was no longer just young.

It was yours to claim.

---

𝟎𝟏:𝟑𝟎, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The walk back from the bathroom felt longer than it should have. Every step made your heart beat harder against your ribs. Mina walked beside you, still grinning like an idiot, occasionally bumping her shoulder against yours in silent encouragement. The luxurious mansion pulsed with low music, laughter, and the clink of expensive glasses, but all you could focus on was the table ahead — and the man waiting there.

The moment you reappeared in sight, Chan’s head turned. His dark eyes locked onto you instantly, as if he’d been watching the direction you’d left. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. He leaned back against the sofa with that effortless dominance, one arm still draped along the backrest where you’d been sitting.

“Well, well… finally,” he said as soon as you were close enough, voice low and teasing, loud enough for the immediate group to hear but clearly aimed at you. “I was starting to miss you already. Thought maybe you’d escaped through the window to avoid me.”

The table chuckled. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, amused. Felix smirked into his drink.

You sat back down, closer to him this time, the leather warm from where you’d been earlier. “Missed me in five minutes? That’s a new record,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light despite the butterflies rioting in your stomach.

Chan tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked you up and down slowly. “Five minutes felt like five laps around the track. Time moves different when the view gets taken away.” He leaned in just a little, voice dropping. “Especially when the view looks as good as you do in that red dress.”

Heat flooded your face again. You glanced away toward the glittering city lights outside the glass walls, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

The conversation picked up around you once more, but the bubble between you and Chan felt even smaller and more charged than before. He found ways to include you in every topic — asking your opinion on music, on Rio’s nightlife, on whether speed or control mattered more in life. Every question came wrapped in that smooth accent and those lingering looks.

After several minutes of this careful dance, you took a steadying breath and turned to face him properly.

“Okay,” you said quietly, so only he could hear. “I’ll go with you. For the drive.”

Chan’s eyes lit up with clear victory and hunger. The corner of his mouth curved into a dangerously attractive smirk.

“But,” you continued before he could speak, holding his gaze firmly, “if you try anything I don’t allow… I will hit you. I’m serious. I don’t care how famous or fast you are.”

For a second he just stared at you, surprised. Then he let out a low, genuine laugh — deep, warm, and genuinely delighted.

“Fuck, I like you,” he murmured, biting his lower lip. “Deal. I’ll behave… until you tell me not to.” His eyes darkened. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be the one testing my self-control tonight.”

You held his stare, heart hammering, but didn’t look away. The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air.

Chan stood up first, offering his hand to help you. His palm was warm, fingers strong as they closed around yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Shall we?”

You nodded.

The two of you said your goodbyes to the group. Mina hugged you tightly, whispering “Have fun” in your ear before pulling back with a proud, mischievous grin. As you and Chan started walking away from the table, she caught your eye from across the space. She mouthed clearly, exaggerating the words so you could read her lips:

“Take care. Text me. Don’t get pregnant."

You almost tripped. Chan noticed your reaction and glanced back, but you quickly composed yourself, shooting Mina a death glare mixed with laughter. She just blew you a kiss.

The walk through the mansion toward the entrance felt surreal. Chan kept a hand lightly on your lower back — polite, guiding, but undeniably possessive. His presence beside you was overwhelming: tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the confident stride of someone who dominated every space he entered. A few people glanced your way, recognizing him, but he paid them no attention. His focus stayed entirely on you.

Outside, the night air was still warm and humid, carrying the distant sound of waves and the scent of tropical flowers from the mansion’s gardens. The valet had already pulled up Chan’s car.

A sleek, aggressive Ferrari — deep blood red, shining under the lights like it was wet. The lines were sharp, predatory, exactly like its owner. The butterfly doors lifted upward with a soft mechanical whir as Chan approached.

He opened the passenger side for you, waiting until you were settled before closing it. The interior smelled like expensive leather, new car, and his cologne. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the space suddenly felt much smaller. His hand rested on the gear shift, dangerously close to your thigh.

“Ready?” he asked, voice lower now that you were alone. The city lights reflected in his eyes as he looked at you.

You nodded, buckling your seatbelt. “Ready. But remember what I said.”

Chan chuckled softly, starting the engine. The Ferrari roared to life with a deep, throaty growl that vibrated through your entire body.

“I remember,” he said, pulling away smoothly from the mansion. The car moved like liquid power — fast, controlled, responsive. “No crossing lines unless you draw them first.” He glanced over at you, one hand on the wheel, the other shifting gears as he accelerated down the private road. “Though I have to admit… I’m really hoping you draw a few tonight.”

The mansion lights faded behind you as Chan drove toward the winding mountain roads. The city of Rio de Janeiro stretched out below, an ocean of sparkling lights, with the dark silhouette of the sea beyond. Wind rushed through the slightly open windows, messing with your hair.

You glanced at his profile — strong jaw, focused eyes, slight smirk still playing on his lips.

This was really happening.

The night had officially shifted gears.

And Bang Chan looked more than ready to take you on the ride of your life.

────────────

𝟎𝟏:𝟒𝟎,𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari purred like a satisfied beast as it climbed the steep, curving roads leading up toward Vista Chinesa. The city sprawled far below — an endless glittering carpet of lights stretching from the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema all the way to the dark horizon where the sea met the sky. The Cristo Redentor glowed softly in the distance, watching over the sleeping metropolis. Inside the car, the world felt smaller, hotter, and far more dangerous.

You sat with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, the hem of your red dress having ridden up slightly from the movement and the way you kept shifting nervously in the leather seat. The air conditioning was on, but your skin still felt warm. Too warm. Every time Chan changed gears, the low rumble of the engine vibrated through your body, making it impossible to relax.

Chan noticed, of course. He always noticed.

“You okay over there?” he asked, voice smooth and amused, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel while the other stayed on the gear shift. He glanced at you, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “You look like I just kidnapped you instead of taking you for a scenic drive. Breathing would be a good start, sweetheart.”

You let out a shy laugh, biting your lip as you looked out the window at the passing trees and occasional glimpses of the city below.

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just… not used to this. The car. The height. You.”

He chuckled, deep and low, the sound filling the small space between you. “Me? I’m harmless. Mostly.” His eyes flicked sideways again, lingering this time on the exposed skin of your thighs where the dress had shifted higher. He didn’t even try to hide it. “Though I have to say… that dress is making it very hard for me to keep my eyes on the road.”

Your face burned. You tugged at the hem self-consciously, but it only made the fabric slide back up again when you moved. Chan’s smirk deepened.

“You don’t have to fix it on my account,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “I’m enjoying the view. A lot.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing. The tension inside the Ferrari was thickening with every passing second. The scent of his cologne mixed with the leather and the faint night breeze coming through the cracked window made your head feel light.

“Do you… actually know where you’re going?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I don’t want to end up lost in the middle of nowhere at almost two in the morning.”

Chan laughed again, genuinely amused this time. He took a smooth curve, the car handling it perfectly, as if it were an extension of his body.

“I know Rio like the back of my hand,” he reassured you, glancing over with a reassuring yet still dangerously attractive smile. “This road leads up to one of the best viewpoints. Quiet. Private. Perfect for… talking.” The pause before the last word made it clear talking wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

You nodded, trying to calm your nerves. “Good. Because I really don’t want to become a headline: ‘Marketing girl disappears with famous pilot after leaving fancy party.’”

He grinned, shifting gears again as the road got steeper. “Nah. If anything, the headline would be ‘Lucky pilot spends night with the most beautiful girl at the party.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the shy smile that escaped. “You’re very smooth. Too smooth.”

“Only when it’s worth it.” His eyes drifted again — slower this time — tracing from your knees up to the hem of your dress, then higher, appreciating the way the red fabric hugged your body. When he looked back at the road, his hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “You nervous because of me, or because you’re actually enjoying this more than you want to admit?”

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching the lights of the city flicker below as the car climbed higher.

“Both,” you admitted softly.

Chan hummed in approval, clearly pleased with your honesty. “Good. I like honest girls. Especially when they’re as pretty as you.” He reached over and turned the music down a little, letting the low sensual R&B fill the background instead of overpowering the moment. “Tell me something… why were you so hesitant back at the party? Most girls would’ve been all over me the second they sat down.”

You shrugged, still playing with the hem of your dress. “I’m not most girls. And you’re… a lot. Famous. Confident. The kind of guy who probably has girls throwing themselves at him every weekend.”

He nodded slowly, not denying it. “True. But none of them make me want to drive up here at 1:40 in the morning just to be alone with them.” His voice got quieter, rougher. “None of them make the dress look that fucking good either.”

Your breath hitched. The compliment was direct, heavy with want. You crossed your legs, which only made the fabric ride up even more. Chan noticed immediately. His jaw flexed and he let out a slow breath.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna have a very hard time focusing on driving,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, cheeks flaming, quickly adjusting the dress again.

“Don’t be sorry.” He glanced over once more, eyes dark. “I like when you get shy. It’s cute. Makes me wonder what else makes you blush like that.”

The silence that followed was loaded. The Ferrari hugged another curve, the city now even farther below, the lights looking like scattered stars. The road was almost empty at this hour — just the occasional distant car far behind them. It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this luxurious, vibrating cocoon of leather and tension.

Chan kept the conversation going, asking about your job, your favorite places in Rio, what you did for fun. But every answer you gave seemed to fuel him more. He listened intently, responding with teasing comments and flirty observations that slowly chipped away at your defenses.

“You have a really pretty laugh,” he said at one point. “Soft. Genuine. I want to hear it more tonight.”

And later: “Your legs look incredible in that dress. Especially when the light from the city hits them like that.”

Each compliment, each lingering look, each low-spoken comment made the air inside the car feel heavier. Hotter. Your shyness only seemed to encourage him. The more you fidgeted and blushed, the more obvious his desire became — in the way his hand kept drifting closer to your thigh on the gear shift, in the way his eyes kept dropping to your chest and legs, in the way his voice got rougher every time he spoke directly to you.

“You’re killing me here, you know that?” he muttered during a straight stretch of road, shaking his head with a half-smile. “Sitting there looking all innocent and nervous while wearing that dress… it should be illegal.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just looked out the window again, heart pounding, thighs pressed tightly together.

Chan noticed that too.

The Ferrari continued climbing, the road twisting higher into the forested hills. The tension between you two was no longer subtle. It was thick, undeniable, and growing with every minute that passed.

---

𝟎𝟐:𝟎𝟓, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari continued its smooth ascent through the winding roads of the Tijuca Forest, the dense trees creating tunnels of darkness broken only by occasional glimpses of the city far below. The further you climbed, the quieter the world became. No more distant party music, no more background chatter — just the low growl of the engine, the soft R&B playing through the speakers, and the heavy, charged silence between you and Chan.

You were starting to relax. Slowly. The initial nervousness that had made your hands tremble was giving way to something warmer, bolder. Maybe it was the way Chan kept looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in months. Maybe it was the low compliments he dropped so casually. Or maybe it was simply the thrill of being completely alone with him.

You turned in your seat to face him more directly, letting your dress ride up a little on purpose this time.

“You keep saying I’m killing you,” you said softly, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips. “But you’re the one who can’t stop staring. Eyes on the road, pilot.”

Chan let out a surprised laugh, deep and raspy, glancing over at you with raised eyebrows. “Oh? Look who’s getting brave now.” His hand left the gear shift for a second to rest lightly on your thigh — just above the knee, warm and heavy. “Careful, sweetheart. I might start thinking you actually like the attention.”

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you placed your hand over his, not pushing it off, just resting there. “Maybe I do,” you admitted, voice quieter but steadier than before. “You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be.”

His fingers flexed under yours, squeezing your thigh gently. “Scary? That’s a new one.” He took another curve with perfect control, the city lights sparkling like jewels beneath you. “Most people find me charming.”

“You are charming,” you replied, growing bolder. “Dangerously charming. That’s the scary part.”

Chan’s smirk turned into something darker, more satisfied. The tension inside the car had shifted. You were no longer just reacting — you were playing along. And he was loving every second of it.

A few minutes later, he slowed the Ferrari and turned onto a narrower, less traveled road. “We’re almost there,” he said. “I wanted to bring you here because… well, most girls want the loud places. Clubs, parties, the spotlight. But I figured you’re different. You seemed like someone who appreciates quiet beauty. Real beauty.” He glanced at you meaningfully. “Plus, up here, no one interrupts. No cameras. No expectations. Just the city and us.”

The car finally came to a stop in a small, secluded parking area near the **Vista Chinesa** — one of Rio’s hidden gems. A Chinese-style pavilion sat gracefully on the edge of the hill, surrounded by lush greenery, offering one of the most breathtaking panoramic views of the entire city. At this hour, it was almost completely deserted. Only the soft glow of distant streetlights and the moon illuminated the scene.

Chan killed the engine. The sudden silence was intimate.

“Come on,” he said, stepping out and rounding the car to open your door. He offered his hand again, and this time you took it without hesitation. The night air was cooler up here, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of earth, leaves, and the distant sea.

He led you toward a stone bench near the pavilion, partially hidden by some trees but still offering the full spectacular view. Rio stretched out beneath you like a living painting — the Christ the Redeemer lit up in white, the dark curves of the mountains, the glowing beaches, and the infinite lights of the neighborhoods. It was stunningly beautiful.

You sat down side by side. Chan stretched his long legs out, one arm resting behind you on the back of the bench. This time he didn’t pretend it was accidental — his fingers lightly traced your shoulder, then played with a strand of your hair.

“Worth the drive?” he asked, voice low.

“Very worth it,” you whispered, looking at the view for a moment before turning to face him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He studied your face in the moonlight, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” The words came out rougher than before. “Not just the dress. You. The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. The way you blush but still flirt back. It’s driving me crazy.”

You turned your body toward him, knees brushing against his. The boldness you felt earlier grew stronger. “Then maybe you should do something about it,” you said softly, surprising even yourself.

Chan’s eyes darkened instantly. He cupped your face with one hand, thumb brushing over your lower lip slowly, deliberately.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, leaning in closer. His breath warmed your skin. “Because once I start, I’m not going to want to stop at just a kiss.”

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance.

The kiss started slow — a soft press of lips, testing, savoring. But the hunger that had been building for hours exploded almost immediately. Chan groaned low in his throat and tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a hunger that took your breath away. His hand slid into your hair, gripping firmly as he pulled you closer. His tongue traced your bottom lip before slipping inside, tasting you, claiming you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was passionate, messy, full of pent-up desire. You kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand fisting his shirt, the other gripping his shoulder. Chan pulled you half onto his lap, strong arms wrapping around your waist as the kiss grew hotter, wetter. He sucked on your lower lip, then bit it gently, earning a soft whimper from you that made him smile against your mouth.

“Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled between kisses, his voice hoarse. He kissed you again, deeper, more demanding, tongue dancing with yours while his hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

The city lights blurred in your peripheral vision. All that existed was the heat of his mouth, the firm grip of his hands, the way he kissed like he was starving for you. You melted into him, matching his intensity, fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly. Chan responded with a deep, approving groan that vibrated through his chest.

When you finally broke apart for air, both of you were breathing hard. His forehead rested against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark with want. Your lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and the hem of your dress had ridden dangerously high on your thighs.

Chan brushed his thumb over your wet bottom lip again, breathing ragged.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he whispered, voice rough. “Since the moment you sat down at that table looking all shy and untouchable.”

You smiled shyly, still catching your breath, but didn’t pull away. “Then don’t stop now.”

His eyes flashed with heat at your words. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss — slower this time, but no less intense. His hands explored your waist, your hips, pulling you even closer until you were fully straddling his lap on the stone bench.

The night air, the breathtaking view, the distant sound of the city far below — everything faded into background as the chemistry between you two finally ignited.

And neither of you seemed in any hurry to put out the fire.

----

𝟎𝟐:𝟐𝟓 𝐀𝐌, 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

Minutes had blurred into what felt like an eternity of heat.

You were fully straddling Chan’s lap on the stone bench, knees on either side of his powerful thighs, your red dress bunched up around your hips. The kiss had turned filthy — tongues sliding hungrily, lips wet and swollen, occasional bites that made you both groan. Chan’s hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you down harder against him with every roll of your hips.

You could feel him.

He was rock hard beneath you. The thick, heavy outline of his cock pressed right against your core through his tailored pants, throbbing every time you ground down. The size was impossible to ignore — long and very thick. The realization made your stomach tighten with a mix of nerves and raw excitement.

Chan pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing as he spoke.

“Fuck, baby… you’re driving me insane,” he growled, voice hoarse. One of his hands slid up your thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, moving dangerously higher. His fingertips grazed the edge of your panties, teasing the lace.

You shivered hard, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he kissed you again, deeper, more desperate. His fingers were just about to push the fabric aside when you suddenly broke the kiss, grabbing his wrist gently but firmly.

“Chan… wait,” you breathed, chest heaving. “I’m not doing this here. Not in the middle of the woods like this. It feels… strange. What if someone sees us?”

Chan froze, eyes dark with lust, lips parted and swollen. For a second he looked almost dazed, like he was fighting his own body. Then reality seemed to hit him. He let out a heavy, frustrated breath and rested his forehead on your shoulder, chuckling lowly.

“Shit… you’re right,” he muttered, voice rough. “Sorry. Got carried away. This view makes me forget there’s still a world out there.” He kissed your neck softly, almost apologetically, before pulling his hand back. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He helped you off his lap, adjusting your dress for you with surprisingly gentle hands. But when he stood up, it was impossible to miss how painfully hard he was. The bulge in his pants was obvious, straining aggressively against the fabric. He didn’t even try to hide it as he walked you back to the Ferrari, jaw clenched, breathing still uneven.

Once inside the car, the tension became almost unbearable. Chan started the engine, the low roar filling the silence. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.

You watched him for a moment, biting your lip. The drive to his place was going to be long.

“Where do you live?” you asked softly.

“Barra da Tijuca,” he answered, voice still husky. “Apartment in a gated community near the beach. It’s a bit far from here… around 40-45 minutes depending on traffic. Why?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle tense under your touch. Chan glanced at you, surprised.

“You ’re really hard,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the massive bulge. “It looks painful.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shifting again. “Yeah… it is. Been like this since you started kissing me back like that.”

The car began descending the mountain road. The city lights grew closer again. You felt a surge of boldness — the same one that had made you flirt back earlier.

“Keep your eyes on the road and drive carefully,” you said quietly, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Chan looked at you, confused. “What are you—?”

You leaned over the center console, hands working on his belt. His eyes widened.

“Baby… you don’t have to—”

“Shh. Just focus on driving,” you murmured, pulling his zipper down. When you freed him from his boxers, his cock sprang out heavily.

He was big. Thick. The head already glistening with precum, veins prominent along the impressive length. You wrapped your hand around the base and Chan hissed sharply, hips twitching.

“Fuck…” he groaned, one hand tightening on the steering wheel while the other rested on the back of your head, not pushing, just holding.

You started slow — licking a long stripe from base to tip, tasting the salty precum. Chan let out a deep, guttural moan that made your core clench.

“Shit, that feels so good…” he breathed.

You took him into your mouth, lips stretching around his thickness. He was heavy on your tongue, filling your mouth completely. You bobbed your head, taking more of him with every movement, using your hand on what didn’t fit.

Chan was incredibly vocal.

“Fuuuck… just like that,” he moaned, voice breaking. “Your mouth is so warm… so fucking wet.”

The car sped up slightly before he forced himself to slow down, breathing ragged. Every time you sucked harder or swirled your tongue around the head, he let out another broken groan or curse.

“Goddamn… you’re gonna make me crash if you keep doing that,” he panted, fingers tightening in your hair. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. The obscene wet sounds mixed with his moans and the low purr of the Ferrari engine created an incredibly erotic atmosphere. You took him deeper, relaxing your throat, eyes watering slightly as you pushed your limits.

Chan’s breathing grew louder, more desperate.

“Holy shit— slow down a little or I’m gonna cum too fast,” he warned, voice strained. “You’re too good at this… fuck, I didn’t expect this tonight.”

You didn’t stop. You wanted to push him. Wanted to hear more of those wrecked moans. Your head moved faster, hand stroking in rhythm, saliva dripping down his length.

Chan kept one hand on the wheel, eyes fighting to stay on the dark road while the other gently guided your head.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned deeply, hips twitching up slightly into your mouth. “Such a good girl… taking me so deep. Just like that— ah, fuck!”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Chan groaned, his voice already wrecked.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you took him deeper, relaxing your throat as much as you could, sucking him with pure hunger. Your head bobbed steadily, wet, obscene sounds filling the interior of the Ferrari as you worked him. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his thick cock, tracing every vein while your hand stroked the base in perfect rhythm.

Chan’s grip on your hair tightened, not forcing you, but holding on like you were his only anchor. The car was moving, but his focus was clearly split.

“Fuuuuck… baby, your mouth—” He cut himself off with a deep, guttural moan as you sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks. “Just like that… holy shit, you’re sucking me so good.”

You poured everything into it — eager, messy, and greedy. Saliva dripped down his thick shaft, coating your hand as you twisted your wrist on every upstroke. You pulled back for a second to catch your breath, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cockhead, before diving back down, taking him as deep as you could.

Chan’s moans were getting louder, needier, more desperate.

“Ahh— fuck, fuck, fuck… you’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly into your mouth. “So warm… so fucking wet. You’re taking me so deep, baby. Such a good fucking girl.”

The road to Barra da Tijuca felt endless. Every time the car took a curve, his cock shifted in your mouth, and you adjusted eagerly, sucking harder. Chan’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling fast. His free hand stayed on the steering wheel, knuckles white, while the other gently guided the pace of your head.

“You’re so fucking nasty for this… doing this while I drive,” he groaned, voice breaking into a whiny whimper that made heat pool between your legs. “Didn’t expect you to be this greedy. Shit— right there, baby. Suck the head like that again—”

You obeyed, focusing on the sensitive tip, swirling your tongue around it before sucking hard. Chan’s moan was loud, almost broken.

“Nngh—! Fuck, I’m getting close already…”

You didn’t slow down. If anything, you went faster, wetter, taking him deeper until your nose brushed against his pelvis. The sounds were filthy — gagging softly, slurping, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Chan’s thighs were trembling under your touch.

“Baby… baby, slow down a little,” he begged, voice turning genuinely whiny. “I’m so close… I don’t wanna cum yet— ahh, fuck!”

But you didn’t slow down. You wanted him desperate. You wanted to hear him fall apart.

The minutes dragged on in a haze of heat and moans. Chan kept driving, barely keeping the car steady as you worshipped his thick cock. His groans grew louder, more broken, more pathetic in the hottest way possible.

“Shit— I can feel it… I’m so fucking close,” he whined, breathing heavily. “Your mouth is too good… too fucking good. I’m gonna cum so much if you keep going like that.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his whole body jerk. Chan let out a long, shaky moan that sounded almost pained from how good it felt.

The tall buildings and luxury condominiums of Barra da Tijuca started appearing. You were getting close to his neighborhood. The car slowed as you approached a red traffic light — the last one before the entrance to his gated community.

Chan’s breathing changed. It became faster, shallower, more desperate.

“Baby— fuck, the light’s red,” he gasped. “I’m right there… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard—”

You didn’t pull off. Instead, you took him as deep as possible and sucked with everything you had, stroking him fast with your hand.

The moment the car stopped completely at the red light, Chan broke.

“Fuuuuck—! I’m cumming— I’m cumming, baby— ahh!”

His head fell back against the seat as his orgasm hit him like a wave. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, pulsing hard as he started shooting thick, hot ropes of cum straight down your throat. Chan moaned shamelessly loud — loud enough that you were grateful the windows were closed.

“Nnghhh—! Fuck, fuck, fuck— so good— you’re taking all of it,” he whined, voice high and broken, almost sobbing with pleasure. “Oh my god… I can’t stop— there’s so much—”

He kept cumming, wave after wave, filling your mouth until it started leaking from the corners of your lips. His hips stuttered, thighs shaking, one hand gripping your hair tightly as broken, needy moans spilled from his mouth nonstop.

“Baby… baby, you’re milking me so good— ahhh, shit— I’m still cumming— fuck!”

The moans were pure filth — deep, whiny, desperate, almost embarrassed at how intense it was. His whole body trembled as the last powerful spurts filled your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping down your chin onto his pants and the leather seat.

Chan was panting like he’d just finished a race, chest heaving, eyes half-closed in bliss. The traffic light turned green, but he stayed still for a few more seconds, trying to recover.

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed out, voice hoarse and shaky. “That was… the best head I’ve ever had in my life. You just swallowed almost everything like it was nothing.”

You slowly pulled off his cock, licking him clean with soft, gentle strokes of your tongue while looking up at him. Chan stared down at you, eyes dark and full of awe, his hand gently caressing your hair.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you up gently.

He kissed you deeply despite the mess, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan. When he pulled back, his thumb wiped the corner of your mouth, eyes burning.

“We’re almost at my place,” he said, voice still rough. “And when we get there… I’m going to return the favor until you’re the one moaning my name like that.”

The light was green.

Chan shifted gears, still breathing hard, a satisfied but dangerous smirk slowly returning to his lips as he drove the last few minutes toward his luxury apartment in Barra da Tijuca.

The night was far from over.

𝟎𝟐:𝟓𝟖, 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐝𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐣𝐮𝐜𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari turned into the quiet, exclusive streets of one of the most prestigious gated communities in Barra da Tijuca. Tall walls covered with ivy, discreet security cameras, and perfectly landscaped gardens created an atmosphere of absolute privacy and wealth. Chan drove with calm confidence, one hand on the wheel and the other resting possessively on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

He stopped in front of a sleek, modern building and gave a small wave to the security guard, who opened the gate immediately. The car descended into a private underground garage, parking right beside a private elevator.

Chan turned off the engine and exhaled deeply, turning to look at you. His eyes were still dark with desire, lips slightly swollen from earlier. “We’re here,” he said, voice low and rough. “My place.”

He got out first and opened your door, helping you out of the low sports car. Your legs felt a little weak after everything that had happened during the drive. Chan noticed and smiled, pulling you close by the waist as you walked toward the elevator. The ride up was silent, but the air crackled with anticipation.

When the elevator doors opened directly into his penthouse, you stopped in your tracks, completely stunned.

The apartment was breathtaking.

It was an enormous open-concept space with incredibly high ceilings. An entire wall of floor-to-ceiling glass offered a spectacular panoramic view of the ocean and the glittering lights of Barra da Tijuca at night. The living room was vast, furnished with elegant minimalist pieces in dark tones mixed with warm wood. Expensive modern art decorated the walls, and a sleek open kitchen with black marble countertops and high-end appliances sat to the left. Soft golden ambient lighting turned on automatically, bathing everything in a warm, intimate glow. Through the glass doors, you could see a luxurious terrace with an infinity pool that seemed to blend into the sea.

You felt small. Out of place.

“Chan… this is incredible,” you whispered, voice full of awe and embarrassment. “It’s like a dream. I feel like I shouldn’t even be standing here. This place is too… much.”

He chuckled softly behind you, closing the distance until his chest pressed against your back. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his body as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Don’t think like that,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “I wanted you here. In my space. With me.” He kissed the side of your neck gently. “The house is just a house. You’re what matters tonight.”

You turned in his arms to face him, still feeling shy. “It’s just… very different from my reality. This view, the size, the luxury… I feel like an intruder.”

Before you could say anything else, Chan cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.

The kiss was immediate and intense. His lips claimed yours with hunger, tongue sliding against yours as he pulled you closer. You moaned softly into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair. Chan groaned in response, hands sliding down your body until they gripped your waist tightly, then lower to squeeze your ass.

He walked you backward without breaking the kiss until your back met the cool glass window. The contrast made you gasp. Chan took advantage, deepening the kiss even more, tongue exploring your mouth as one hand held the back of your neck and the other roamed your thigh.

“Been dying to kiss you like this all night,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip before soothing it. “You have no idea how much I wanted you alone.”

You whimpered, pressing your body against his. You could feel him getting hard again, his thick cock pressing against your stomach. Chan rolled his hips slowly, letting you feel everything as he kissed you like he was addicted.

Suddenly, he bent down, grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he carried you, lips never leaving yours. He moved through the living room and up the elegant floating staircase to the second floor, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

The master bedroom was just as impressive: a huge king-sized bed with dark silk sheets, another wall of glass facing the ocean, soft lighting, and a luxurious atmosphere that smelled exactly like him. Chan kicked the door shut and carried you straight to the bed, laying you down in the middle of the massive mattress.

He climbed on top of you immediately, settling between your spread legs, his body pressing you deliciously into the soft bedding. His eyes roamed over your flushed face and messed-up red dress with clear hunger.

“Look at you…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “So fucking beautiful lying in my bed.”

He kissed you again, slower but deeper, tongue tasting every corner of your mouth. One hand slid up your thigh, pushing your dress higher until it was bunched around your waist, exposing your black lace panties. Chan pulled back slightly to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he confessed, kissing your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this since the party.”

You arched into him, hands slipping under his shirt to feel his warm, defined abs and back. Chan sat up for a moment, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion and throwing it aside, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest, shoulders and abs. He looked even better than you had imagined.

Then he was back on you, kissing you deeply, hips rolling against yours in a slow, teasing rhythm. His hard cock pressed right against your core, making you both moan into the kiss.

Chan hovered over you, his bare chest pressing against your body as he kissed you like he was trying to consume every sound you made. His mouth was hot, demanding, and relentless. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together in a wet, messy dance that made your head spin. Every time you tried to catch your breath he chased your lips again, sucking on your bottom lip, biting it gently, then soothing it with his tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed against your mouth, voice thick with lust. “This red dress has been killing me all night… the way it hugs your body, the way your tits look in it… I’ve been imagining taking it off you since the moment I saw you.”

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands running up his muscular back, nails lightly scratching his skin. Chan groaned at the feeling and rolled his hips slowly against you, letting you feel how hard he still was.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your jaw, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear before moving to your neck. His mouth was greedy, leaving open-mouthed kisses and light bites that made you arch off the bed with a needy whimper.

“Chan…” you moaned, fingers threading through his hair.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name,” he growled, sucking harder on your neck. “You sound so pretty when you’re turned on. So fucking sexy.”

His hands moved to the straps of your dress, slowly pulling them down your shoulders. He kissed every inch of skin he revealed, tongue tracing your collarbone as he tugged the fabric lower. When your breasts finally spilled free, Chan let out a deep, appreciative groan.

“Jesus Christ… look at you,” he murmured, eyes dark and hungry as he stared at your bare chest. “These tits are perfect. So fucking pretty. Been dying to taste them.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you.

Chan wrapped his lips around your right nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You moaned loudly, back arching off the mattress as pleasure shot straight between your legs. He groaned against your skin, the vibration making you shiver.

“Mmm… so sweet,” he mumbled, sucking harder, taking more of your breast into his mouth. His hand kneaded the other one, thumb brushing over your nipple until it was hard and aching. “You taste so good, baby. These tits were made for my mouth.”

He switched sides, giving the same attention to your left breast — licking, sucking, and gently biting until you were writhing underneath him, soft moans and whimpers falling from your lips nonstop. Every suck sent sparks through your body. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple you cried out, hips bucking up against him instinctively.

“Chan… oh god…” you moaned, gripping his hair tighter.

He looked up at you while still sucking, eyes locked on yours, the sight incredibly erotic. “That’s it, moan for me,” he said, voice muffled against your skin. “I want to hear how good it feels. You’re so fucking responsive… so sensitive. I could spend hours just sucking on these pretty tits.”

He pressed your breasts together with both hands, burying his face between them, licking and kissing the soft flesh before taking one nipple back into his mouth and sucking hard. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room, mixed with your breathy moans and his low groans of appreciation.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he praised between sucks, voice rough. “All flushed and moaning under me. This body… fuck, I want to ruin you tonight. Want to mark every inch of you.”

He sucked harder, almost desperately, alternating between your breasts, leaving them wet and shiny with his saliva. Your nipples were swollen and sensitive, every touch of his tongue making you tremble. You kept moaning his name, hips grinding up against his hard cock through his pants, desperate for friction.

Chan growled, one hand sliding down your body to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider as he continued devouring your chest. He pulled back slightly to admire his work — your breasts covered in hickeys and glistening from his mouth.

“Look how pretty they look now,” he said, voice hoarse with lust. “All marked up by me. Mine.”

He dove back in, sucking and licking with renewed hunger, one hand pinching and rolling the nipple he wasn’t sucking on. Your moans grew louder, needier, your body burning under his touch. Every wet pull of his mouth sent waves of pleasure straight to your core, making you wetter than you’d ever been.

Chan was completely lost in you — kissing, licking, sucking, and praising you nonstop.

“So fucking perfect… these tits are driving me crazy… you’re so hot, baby… so fucking hot…”

He kept going, relentless, as if he really could spend the whole night just worshipping your breasts. Your moans echoed softly in the large bedroom, mixing with his deep groans and the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin.

Chan kept devouring your breasts with unrestrained hunger, his mouth hot and greedy as he sucked hard on your swollen nipples. He alternated between them, licking, biting softly and then soothing with his tongue, while his hands squeezed the soft flesh, pressing them together so he could bury his face between them.

“Fuck, these tits are perfect,” he groaned against your skin, voice thick and raspy. “So soft… so fucking full. I can’t stop sucking them. Look how hard your nipples are for me… so pretty and sensitive.”

You moaned loudly, back arching off the mattress as he sucked harder, the wet sounds of his mouth echoing in the big bedroom. Every pull of his lips sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you wetter by the second. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging desperately as waves of heat washed over you.

“Chan… oh my god…” you whimpered, hips rolling up against him.

He growled in response, the vibration traveling through your chest. “That’s it, moan my name. I love how you sound when I’m sucking on you like this. So fucking sexy.”

After long, torturous minutes spent worshipping your breasts — leaving them covered in red marks and glistening with his saliva — Chan finally began kissing his way down your body. His lips left a wet trail along your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel before moving lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your bunched-up dress and panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips to help him, heart hammering wildly in your chest as the cool air hit your soaked pussy.

Chan spread your thighs wide with his strong hands, settling comfortably between them. He stared at your exposed core for a few seconds, eyes completely dark with lust, breathing heavy.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” he whispered, almost reverently. “Look at this pretty little pussy. So wet… so fucking swollen and dripping for me. You’re making such a mess, baby.”

He leaned in and ran his tongue slowly from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, broad stroke. The second he tasted you, Chan let out a deep, guttural moan that vibrated straight against your folds.

“Mmmph— fuck!” he groaned loudly, eyes fluttering shut. “You taste so fucking good. So sweet and creamy… this is the best pussy I’ve ever had in my life. I’m serious.”

He didn’t ease into it. Chan dove in like a starving man, burying his face completely between your thighs with raw, shameless hunger. His tongue licked long, messy stripes up and down your slit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was nectar. He moaned continuously against you, the sounds loud, needy, and completely unrestrained.

“Goddamn, baby… you’re dripping down my chin,” he groaned, voice muffled as he licked faster. “Tastes so fucking delicious. I could eat this pussy for hours and still want more. So sweet… so fucking addictive.”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips jerked violently and you cried out, gripping his hair tighter. Chan growled in approval, sucking even harder, the wet obscene sounds of his mouth filling the entire room.

“Yes— fuck, just like that,” he moaned against your clit. “Moan for me, baby. Let me hear how good my tongue feels. This little clit is throbbing so much… so cute and swollen on my tongue.”

He pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with deep, wet strokes while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming. You moaned loudly, thighs trembling around his head as he devoured you with pure enthusiasm.

Chan pulled back slightly, breathing hard, chin and lips shiny with your juices. “You have no idea how good you taste,” he said, voice wrecked. “I’ve never been this fucking obsessed with a pussy before. Look how wet you are… dripping everywhere. Such a messy, perfect girl for me.”

He dove back in even more eagerly, sucking your clit into his mouth while sliding two thick fingers deep inside you. He curled them instantly, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. His fingers pumped fast and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he sucked and licked your clit with desperate hunger.

“Oh fuck— Chan!” you cried out, back arching sharply off the bed.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name while I eat this pretty pussy,” he groaned loudly, fingers moving faster. “You’re squeezing so tight around my fingers… fuck, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock like this later. But right now I just want to drink every drop you give me.”

He became almost feral — licking, sucking, and moaning like your pleasure was the only thing that existed. His free hand slid up your body to pinch and tug at your sensitive nipple while he continued devouring you. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers echoed obscenely.

“You’re soaking my face, baby… making such a mess,” he moaned, voice vibrating right against your clit. “Best fucking taste in the world. I’m addicted already. This pussy is mine tonight. All mine. Gonna make you cum so hard on my tongue.”

Chan sucked your clit harder, fingers curling and pumping faster inside you. His moans were constant and shameless, like he was the one receiving pleasure. Every time you moaned or whimpered his name, he responded with deeper, hungrier licks.

“Cum for me, baby. Please— I need it,” he begged between sucks, voice hoarse and desperate. “I want to feel you cum on my tongue. Want to drink all of it. Be a good girl and flood my mouth. This sweet pussy deserves to cum hard.”

The combination of his filthy words, the relentless suction on your clit, and his fingers hitting that perfect spot over and over finally pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body violently. You cried out his name loudly, thighs clamping around his head as you came hard, trembling and gushing against his tongue. Chan moaned loudly in pure satisfaction, never stopping. He kept licking and sucking through your orgasm, eagerly drinking every drop like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Fuck yes— that’s it, baby. Give me everything,” he groaned, lapping at you greedily. “So good… you taste even better when you cum. Such a sweet, perfect pussy.”

Even after your orgasm subsided and you became sensitive, Chan continued licking slowly and gently, cleaning you up with soft, tender strokes of his tongue while moaning softly, clearly savoring every last bit.

He finally pulled back slightly, lips and chin completely glistening with your juices, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at you from between your spread thighs.

“You’re fucking delicious,” he whispered, kissing your inner thigh. “I could eat you for the rest of the night and still not get enough.”

He crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue, his hard cock pressing insistently against your soaked entrance through his pants.

Chan crawled up your body slowly, kissing every inch of skin he could reach — your stomach, between your breasts, your collarbone, your neck — until his face hovered over yours. His lips were shiny with your juices, eyes completely blown with lust. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he groaned into your mouth.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, voice wrecked. “I could eat that pussy for hours and still beg for more.”

You were still trembling from the intense orgasm, breathing hard, when Chan sat back on his knees between your spread thighs. His hands moved to his belt, undoing it quickly, eyes never leaving your soaked, glistening pussy. He pushed his pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing his cock.

It slapped heavily against his abs, thick, veiny, and painfully hard. The head was dark red, already leaking precum steadily. He was huge — long and impressively thick, the same cock you had sucked in the car earlier, now even harder after tasting you.

“Fuck… look at what you do to me,” Chan groaned, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking himself slowly. His eyes were glued to your pussy, watching the way it clenched and dripped from the previous orgasm. “You’re so fucking wet… so pink and pretty. This pussy is dripping for my cock, isn’t it?”

He stroked himself a little faster, thumb spreading the precum over the head while staring at you like a predator. The wet sound of his hand moving on his thick shaft filled the room, mixing with your heavy breathing.

“Been thinking about burying this cock inside you since the party,” he confessed, voice low and filthy. “Imagining how tight you’d feel. How you’d stretch around me. Fuck… look how wet you are. You want it bad, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded, biting your lip, hips twitching slightly as you watched him jerk off while staring at your exposed pussy. Chan smirked, dark and dangerous, then leaned forward, gripping his cock tighter.

He started teasing you.

He slapped the heavy head of his cock against your clit a few times, making you jolt and moan. Then he began rubbing it up and down your slit — slow, deliberate strokes, coating his thick length with your wetness. The head nudged your entrance, pressing just slightly, before sliding up to rub your clit again in lazy circles.

“Feel that?” he groaned, voice strained. “Feel how hard I am for you? I’m leaking all over this pretty pussy. So fucking slippery… so warm.”

He kept brushing the head along your folds, teasing your entrance, pressing just the tip inside before pulling back out with a wet sound. Every time he did it you whimpered, trying to push your hips down to take him, but he held you still with his free hand on your thigh.

“Uh uh… not yet,” he teased, smirking. “I want to enjoy this. Want to paint this pussy with my cock first. Look how your little hole is twitching every time I touch it… so greedy.”

Chan continued the filthy teasing, rubbing his thick cockhead up and down, occasionally slapping it against your clit, making you moan louder each time. His breathing was ragged, hand stroking the base while he used the head to play with you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet it’s dripping down to your ass,” he groaned, voice getting rougher. “Such a messy girl. My messy girl. This pussy is so perfect… I’m gonna stretch you so good, baby. Gonna fill you up until you can’t think straight.”

He pressed the head against your entrance again, pushing just a little deeper this time, making you gasp. But he pulled back out immediately, continuing to rub and tease, enjoying the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he taunted, stroking himself faster while rubbing the head on your clit. “Want this fat cock splitting you open. I can see how bad you need it. This tight little hole is begging for me.”

Chan leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss while still rubbing his cock against your pussy. His tongue fucked your mouth in the same rhythm his cock teased your folds. You were moaning nonstop, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Please…” you whimpered against his mouth.

Chan pulled back, eyes dark, breathing heavily.

“Please what, baby?” he asked, pressing the head against your entrance again, circling it slowly. “Tell me what you want. Want me to fuck this pretty pussy? Want me to bury every inch inside you?”

He kept teasing, pushing just the tip in and pulling out, over and over, driving you crazy. His hand continued stroking the rest of his length, spreading your wetness all over himself.

“Tell me,” he growled, voice low and commanding. “Beg for my cock like a good girl.”

Your body was on fire. Every slow drag of his thick cockhead along your folds, every time he nudged your entrance, every filthy word made you wetter and more desperate. Chan looked completely lost in the sight — eyes fixed on where his cock touched your pussy, breathing hard, muscles tense.

He slapped his cock against your clit a few more times, then rubbed the head firmly against it in tight circles.

“Fuck… I could cum just from rubbing on you like this,” he groaned. “But I need to be inside you. Need to feel this tight pussy squeezing me.”

He positioned the head right at your entrance again, pressing forward slightly, stretching you open just a little. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense.

“Ready for me, baby?” he asked, voice hoarse with lust, still teasing you with shallow movements. “Because once I slide in… I’m not stopping until you’re creaming all over my cock.”

“Please, Chan… stop teasing me,” you begged desperately, your voice breaking as you rolled your hips up, trying to take him deeper. “I need you. Fuck me already. Please, I want your cock so bad…”

Chan’s eyes flashed with raw hunger. He gripped his thick cock tightly, rubbing the swollen, leaking head up and down your dripping slit one final time before pressing it firmly against your entrance.

“You want it?” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “You want me to stretch this tight little pussy open?”

“Yes… fuck me, Chan. Please.”

With a deep, guttural groan, he finally pushed inside.

The thick head of his cock slowly forced its way past your entrance, stretching you wide. Chan’s mouth fell open instantly, letting out a long, broken, whiny moan that echoed through the bedroom.

“Fuuuuuuck… oh my god…” he moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as he sank deeper. “Your pussy is so fucking tight… so hot… shit, baby, you’re squeezing me so perfectly…”

He kept pushing in slowly, inch by thick inch, until his hips were pressed flush against yours, buried completely inside you. Chan let out the most pathetic, needy moan, his whole body trembling.

“Ahhh… fuck… I’m all the way in… so deep… your pussy feels incredible… so wet, so warm, so fucking tight around my cock…” he whimpered, forehead pressed against yours, breathing ragged. “I can feel you pulsing around me… Jesus Christ, this is the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling, letting you adjust to his size. Then he started moving — slow, deep thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet, obscene sound.

“Fuck… fuck… so good…” he moaned with every thrust, voice whiny and desperate. “Listen to how wet you are… you’re creaming all over my cock already, baby. Such a messy girl.”

You moaned loudly beneath him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as pleasure overwhelmed you. “Chan… you’re so big… you’re so deep…”

He groaned at your words, hips snapping harder. “Yeah? You like how my thick cock stretches you? Like feeling me so deep inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes… yes… harder, please…”

Chan’s control snapped. He grabbed your thighs, pushing them back toward your chest and started fucking you with raw, intense hunger. His hips slammed against yours, burying his cock to the hilt with every powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin grew louder, wetter, filthier.

“Ahh— fuck! Yes… take it, baby,” he moaned loudly, voice breaking with every deep stroke. “Your pussy is sucking me in so greedily… so fucking tight… I’m losing my mind… nnghh!”

You cried out in pleasure, moaning his name shamelessly as he railed you. Chan’s moans were constant and shameless — deep, whiny, almost sobbing with how good it felt.

“Shit… shit… you feel too good… I’m gonna cum so fast if you keep squeezing me like that,” he whimpered, sweat dripping down his chest as he pounded into you harder. “This pussy is perfect… so wet… so hot… I wanna live inside you, fuck…”

He leaned down, pressing his chest against yours, mouth latching onto your neck as he fucked you even deeper. His hips moved in a brutal rhythm, slamming into you with force that made the bed creak loudly.

“Oh god… Chan… it’s so deep… you’re hitting so good…” you moaned, legs shaking around him.

“Yeah? Right here?” He angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. “Here? You like when I fuck you right there, baby?”

“Yes! Yes— fuck, don’t stop!” you cried out, back arching violently.

Chan let out a string of broken, whiny moans right in your ear, completely lost in pleasure.

“Ahh… ahh… fuck, baby… your pussy is creaming so much… I can feel it dripping down my balls… you’re so fucking wet for me… so nasty… so perfect…”

He fucked you harder, faster, gripping your hips tightly as leverage while slamming into you without mercy. The wet, squelching sounds of his thick cock destroying your pussy were obscene.

“Nnghh… shit… I’m so deep… can you feel me in your stomach, baby?” he groaned, voice trembling. “This cock is yours tonight… gonna fuck this tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight… ahh, fuck!”

Your moans mixed with his — loud, desperate, and filthy. Every powerful thrust made your tits bounce, made you see stars, made you clench harder around his thick length.

Chan’s moans were getting louder, more pathetic, more addictive.

“Fuuuuck… you’re gonna make me cum… this pussy is too good… too fucking tight… I’m addicted already… gonna fuck you all night… gonna fill you up…”

He kept pounding into you relentlessly, sweat-slicked bodies sliding together, mouths occasionally meeting in sloppy, desperate kisses as he railed you deep and hard.

Chan didn’t slow down even for a second.

He kept pounding into you from behind with deep, brutal thrusts, his thick cock stretching your cum-filled pussy over and over. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass was loud and filthy, mixed with the wet squelching of your soaked cunt taking every inch.

“Fuck— fuck— fuck—” Chan moaned loudly, voice whiny and desperate as he yanked your hair harder, forcing your head back. “This pussy is so fucking good… still so tight even after I filled you up… ahh, shit!”

He spanked your ass hard, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Then again. And again. Each slap made you clench around him, pulling another broken moan from his throat.

“Nnghh— yes! Squeeze my cock just like that,” he whimpered, hips snapping faster. “You’re such a dirty little whore… taking my cum and still begging for more… fuck, I love this pussy.”

You were moaning uncontrollably, face pressed into the sheets, ass up high as he destroyed you. Every powerful thrust made your body jolt forward, your tits bouncing underneath you.

“Chan— oh my god— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice hoarse.

“Yeah? You feel me in your stomach, baby?” he growled, pulling your hair tighter while railing you mercilessly. “You feel how deep I’m fucking you? This cock is ruining this tight little cunt.”

He spanked you again, harder this time, then grabbed both cheeks and spread them wide so he could watch his thick cock disappearing inside you. The sight made him moan loudly, almost pathetically.

“Fuuuuck… look at that… your pussy is creaming so much… white all over my cock… so fucking nasty,” he whimpered, voice trembling with pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re leaking my cum for days.”

Chan suddenly changed the angle, leaning forward and pressing your upper body down into the mattress while keeping your ass up. He started fucking you even harder, short and brutal thrusts that hit your g-spot perfectly.

“Ahh— ahh— fuck! Right there— don’t stop!” you screamed, gripping the sheets tightly.

“I’m not stopping,” he moaned right next to your ear, sweat dripping from his chest onto your back. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy until you can’t take anymore… until you’re shaking and crying on my cock.”

His moans were getting louder, whinier, more desperate. Every thrust came with a broken sound — deep, needy, and shameless.

“Nnghh— shit… your cunt is squeezing me so hard… I can feel my cum inside you… so warm… so fucking messy,” he whimpered, spanking your ass again. “You’re my cumdump tonight, baby. My dirty little cumslut.”

He reached around and rubbed your swollen clit with fast, rough circles while continuing to pound into you. Your moans turned into loud, broken screams as another orgasm built rapidly inside you.

“Chan— I’m gonna cum again— please— I’m so close!” you cried out.

“Cum for me— cum on my cock like the slut you are,” he demanded, voice shaking. “I want to feel you throbbing… wanna feel this pussy milking me while I fuck you stupid… ahh, fuck— cum right now!”

You shattered hard, screaming his name as your third orgasm ripped through you. Your walls clenched violently around his cock, gushing around him as your whole body shook.

Chan moaned loudly, almost sobbing in pleasure as he felt you cum.

“Fuuuuck— yes! Just like that… squeezing me so fucking tight… good girl— such a good fucking girl,” he whimpered, still thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging it.

He didn’t stop.

Even as you trembled and gasped, he kept fucking you through it, hips slamming against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. His moans were constant and broken.

“Ahh… ahh… I can’t stop… your pussy feels too good… I’m gonna cum again… gonna fill you up even more,” he whined, voice high and desperate.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and started railing you with savage intensity — fast, deep, and animalistic. The bed creaked violently under the force of his thrusts.

“Take it— take my fucking cock— take another load, baby,” he moaned, voice cracking. “I’m so close… your cunt is milking me… fuck— I’m cumming— I’m cumming!”

With a loud, broken, whiny moan, Chan buried himself as deep as possible and came hard inside you again. His cock throbbed violently, pumping thick ropes of hot cum deep into your already full pussy. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, whimpering and moaning pathetically as he emptied himself.

“Fuuuuck— take it all… take every drop… such a good cumslut… ahhh, shit!”

He stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat. His cock twitched inside your overflowing pussy, cum already leaking out around him.

But Chan wasn’t done.

He slowly pulled out, watching with dark eyes as his cum dripped from your abused hole. Then he flipped you onto your back again, spreading your legs wide.

“We’re not finished yet, baby,” he growled, voice hoarse but still hungry. “I’m nowhere near done with this pussy tonight.”

Chan was still breathing heavily, his cock buried deep inside you, cum leaking out around his thickness. But instead of pulling out and stopping, he wrapped his arms around you and rolled over, switching positions so he was lying on his back with you on top of him.

You were exhausted, legs shaking, body limp from the multiple orgasms, but Chan clearly wasn’t done.

“Ride me,” he demanded, voice low and husky, gripping your hips tightly. “I want to watch you bounce on my cock. Come on, baby… show me how much you want it.”

Even tired, the way he looked at you — eyes dark, lips parted, chest heaving — made heat flood through your body again. You placed your hands on his muscular chest for balance and slowly lifted your hips, feeling his thick cock slide almost all the way out before sinking back down.

Both of you moaned loudly at the same time.

“Fuuuuck…” Chan groaned, head falling back against the pillow, eyes rolling. “That’s it… just like that. Ride my cock, baby. Use me.”

You started moving, rolling your hips before bouncing slowly on his thick length. Every time you sank down, his cock stretched you open again, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy taking him was loud in the room.

Chan’s hands gripped your ass tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he watched you with pure lust.

“Shit— look at you,” he moaned, voice whiny and desperate. “Bouncing on my cock like a good little slut… your tits look so fucking perfect like this. Keep going, baby. Ride me harder.”

You picked up the pace, bouncing faster, taking him deeper with every movement. Chan’s moans grew louder, more broken, more pathetic. His fingers dug harder into your hips, helping you move up and down on his cock.

“Ahh— fuck! Yes, baby… just like that,” he whimpered, eyes fixed on where your pussy swallowed his thick cock over and over. “You’re so fucking wet… I can hear how messy you are. My cum is dripping out of you while you ride me… such a nasty, perfect girl.”

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back as you rode him with more intensity. The angle made his cock hit deep inside you, rubbing against all the right spots. Chan’s hands moved up to squeeze your bouncing tits, pinching your nipples hard as he thrust up to meet your movements.

“Chan— oh my god… you’re so deep…” you moaned, riding him faster.

“Yeah? You feel me stretching this cum-filled pussy?” he groaned, voice trembling. “Bounce harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock. Use me like your personal toy.”

You obeyed, bouncing aggressively on him. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs mixed with both of your loud moans. Chan was losing control again — moaning shamelessly, whiny and desperate, hips bucking up to fuck you from below.

“Fuuuuck— your pussy is creaming so much… look at the mess on my cock,” he whimpered, eyes glued to the white ring forming around the base of his shaft. “You’re so fucking tight… so warm… I can’t get enough of this cunt.”

He suddenly sat up, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other tangled in your hair. Face to face now, he kissed you messily, tongues sliding together as you kept riding him hard. His moans vibrated into your mouth.

“Mmmph— ride me just like that,” he groaned against your lips. “Bounce on this cock, baby. Milk me. Take everything.”

You rode him with everything you had left, hips moving fast and deep. Chan’s grip on your hair tightened as he started thrusting up harder, meeting every bounce with powerful strokes.

“Ahh— fuck! Chan— I’m gonna cum again!” you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Cum— cum all over my cock,” he moaned, voice breaking. “I want to feel you squeezing me while you ride me… be a good girl and cum for me, baby— ahhh, shit!”

Your orgasm hit you hard while you were still bouncing on him. You screamed his name, walls clenching violently around his thick cock as you trembled on top of him. Chan moaned loudly, almost sobbing in pleasure as he felt you cum.

“Fuuuuck— yes! Squeeze me just like that… good girl… such a good fucking girl,” he whimpered, still thrusting up into you through your orgasm.

He didn’t let you stop riding. Even as you shook and gasped, he kept guiding your hips, fucking up into you with desperate, needy thrusts.

“I’m close again… your pussy is too good… gonna fill you up one more time,” he moaned, voice high and whiny. “Keep riding me, baby— don’t stop… milk my cock… take my cum deep inside you…”

You kept bouncing on him, tired but eager, until Chan buried his face in your neck and came hard with a long, broken moan, pumping even more cum deep into your already overflowing pussy.

Both of you were exhausted, bodies covered in sweat, breathing heavy and uneven. Chan’s cock was still buried deep inside you, slowly softening, but he didn’t pull out. He stayed there, holding you close, placing soft, lazy kisses along your collarbone and neck while you both tried to catch your breath.

After a long moment, he lifted his head and looked at you, eyes still dark but gentler now. His hair was messy, lips swollen, face flushed.

“…You okay?” he asked softly, voice hoarse. “We can stop if you’re too tired, baby. I know I’ve been rough.”

You were tired — legs shaking, body sore in the best way — but you didn’t want it to end yet. You shook your head, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“I still want you,” you whispered, voice small and whiny. “Just… slower now. Please?”

Chan’s eyes softened. He gave you a small, tired smile and nodded.

“Yeah… I want you too.”

He gently pulled out of you, making you both moan softly at the feeling. Then he carefully laid you on your back and positioned himself between your spread legs. This time there was no rush. He hovered over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, and looked down at your face with heavy-lidded eyes.

He leaned down and kissed you slowly, deeply, tongues sliding together in a lazy, sensual dance. The kiss was full of need, but softer now — almost tender. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you whimpered into his mouth.

Chan reached down, lined himself up, and slowly pushed back inside you. Both of you moaned softly against each other’s lips as he sank in deep.

“Fuck… still so warm,” he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

He started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding into you instead of pounding. Every thrust was deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. You moaned whiny and soft, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

“Chan…” you whimpered against his lips, voice needy and sweet. “Feels so good… don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” he murmured, kissing you again, slower this time. His tongue explored your mouth as he rocked into you gently, hips pressing deep and staying there for a moment before pulling back and doing it again.

He kissed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then back to your lips — never stopping the slow, sensual rhythm of his hips. You were being so whiny, moaning softly every time he bottomed out, fingers tangled in his hair.

“More kisses…” you pleaded quietly, almost pouting.

Chan smiled against your mouth and gave you exactly what you wanted. He kissed you deeply, passionately, but gently — long, slow kisses that made your heart race even as your body melted under him. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of your taste, like he wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you moan like that,” he whispered between kisses, still rolling his hips in that perfect, deep rhythm. “So soft… so whiny for me… I love hearing you.”

You whimpered loudly, pulling him even closer as you kissed him again, tongues sliding together messily. Chan groaned softly into your mouth, one hand gently cupping your face while the other held your thigh, keeping you spread open for him.

Every thrust was slow and sensual. He wasn’t fucking you anymore — he was making love to you. Deep, grinding strokes that made you feel full and claimed. You kept moaning softly, whiny and needy, every sound muffled by his constant kisses.

“Chan… it feels so good…” you whimpered against his lips, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I know, baby… I know,” he breathed, kissing you again, deeper this time. “You feel perfect around me. So warm… so wet… I could stay inside you forever like this.”

He kept kissing you nonstop — your lips, your neck, your jaw, back to your lips again. Soft, wet, lingering kisses mixed with slow, deep thrusts. Your bodies moved together in a gentle rhythm, skin sliding against skin, both of you sweaty and tired but completely lost in each other.

You were so whiny, moaning sweetly every time he rolled his hips, fingers clutching his back, legs wrapped tightly around him.

“Kiss me more…” you begged softly, voice trembling.

Chan obliged immediately, capturing your lips in another long, slow kiss, tongue gently playing with yours as he continued those deep, sensual thrusts. The pleasure was different now — warmer, heavier, more intimate.

He stayed like that for a long time — slow, deep, and constant — kissing you like he never wanted to stop, fucking you gently while you whimpered and moaned beneath him, completely wrapped up in each other.

Chan kept that slow, deep rhythm, rolling his hips in a sensual grind as he stayed buried inside you. His forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling, lips brushing every few seconds in soft, lazy kisses. The room was quiet except for the wet sound of his cock slowly moving in and out of your cum-filled pussy and the soft, needy whimpers leaving your lips.

“You feel so good…” you whined quietly, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “So deep… Chan, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t, baby,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you again — slow and wet. “I’m not stopping until we both cum again.”

He kissed you deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hips moved in long, deliberate strokes. Every time he bottomed out, he stayed there for a second, grinding his pelvis against your clit before pulling back and doing it all over again. The pleasure was thick, heavy, and overwhelming in the best way.

Your moans were soft and whiny, almost pathetic, every time he filled you completely. You kept kissing him desperately, fingers tangled in his messy hair, legs shaking around him.

Chan’s breathing was getting heavier. His kisses became more urgent, more messy. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, still so hard even after cumming twice already.

“Fuck… you’re squeezing me again,” he groaned softly, voice hoarse. “So tight… so warm… I can feel my cum inside you every time I move.”

He kissed you harder, one hand gently holding the side of your face while the other slid down to grip your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. His thrusts started getting a little faster, a little deeper, but still sensual.

You whimpered into his mouth, nails gently scratching his back.

“Chan… I’m getting close again…” you moaned softly, voice trembling.

“Yeah?” he breathed, kissing you between words. “Me too, baby. You feel too fucking good… I don’t wanna stop.”

He started moving with more purpose, still deep but picking up a steady pace. His moans were getting louder, whinier, right against your lips.

“Ahh… fuck, baby… your pussy is creaming so much around me,” he whimpered, voice breaking. “So wet… so fucking warm… I can feel everything.”

You kissed him desperately, moaning into his mouth as the pleasure built higher. Chan’s hips snapped a little harder, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust now.

“Kiss me— please kiss me,” you whined.

Chan immediately obeyed, capturing your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss, tongues sliding together messily as he fucked you harder. His moans were constant now, needy and broken.

“Mmmph— fuck… I’m getting so close,” he groaned against your lips, voice trembling. “Your pussy is squeezing me so tight… gonna make me cum again… ahh, shit— you feel so good, baby.”

He buried his face in your neck, sucking on your skin while his hips moved faster, pounding into you with deep, desperate strokes. His moans were right in your ear now — loud, whiny, and completely shameless.

“Fuuuuck… I’m so close… so fucking close,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “Your pussy is too perfect… gonna fill you up again… gonna cum so deep inside you…”

You were moaning loudly now, legs shaking violently around him as your orgasm approached.

“Chan— I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, clinging to him.

“Cum with me, baby— cum on my cock,” he moaned desperately, thrusting harder. “I’m right there… fuck— I’m cumming— I’m cumming!”

Chan’s hips stuttered as he buried himself as deep as possible. His whole body tensed and he let out a long, broken, whiny moan right next to your ear as he started cumming hard.

“Fuuuuck— ahhh! I’m cumming… I’m cumming so much— take it, baby… take all my cum!” he cried out, voice trembling and high.

You came at the same time, screaming his name as your pussy clenched violently around him, milking every drop. Chan kept moaning loudly, almost sobbing with pleasure as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum deep inside you.

“Ahh… ahh… fuck… so good… you’re milking me so well…” he whimpered, still thrusting slowly through both of your orgasms, drawing them out as long as possible.

He kept kissing you through it — messy, tired kisses, tongues lazily sliding together while he emptied himself completely inside you. His body trembled on top of yours, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your skin.

When it finally slowed down, Chan collapsed on top of you, face buried in your neck, breathing heavily. His cock was still twitching inside your overflowing pussy, cum leaking out around him with every small movement.

Both of you stayed like that for a long time — sweaty, exhausted, and completely satisfied — trading soft, lazy kisses while trying to catch your breath.

Chan pressed one last gentle kiss to your lips and whispered against them:

“…Stay the night with me.”

Chan stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat and trembling. His face was hidden in the crook of your neck, lips pressing lazy, tired kisses against your skin while his cock gave one last weak twitch inside you.

Finally, he let out a long, satisfied sigh and slowly pulled out. A thick stream of his cum leaked from your abused pussy, dripping onto the sheets. You whimpered softly at the feeling, too tired to even move.

Chan rolled onto his side and pulled you against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. One hand gently stroked your back while the other brushed damp hair away from your face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and raspy from all the moaning. He kissed your forehead, then your temple. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as reality slowly started hitting you.

“…I just let a famous race car driver fuck me senseless in his penthouse,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Multiple times. And I rode him. And begged. And let him cum inside me… twice.”

Chan let out a tired but amused laugh, his chest vibrating against you.

“Yeah… you did,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh harder. “And you were very enthusiastic about it, might I add.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified but also laughing weakly.

“Oh my god… what the hell did I do? I don’t even do this kind of thing. I’m not… I’m not the ‘go home with a stranger and get railed for hours’ type of girl. Mina is going to kill me when I tell her. Or she’s going to ask for details. Probably both.”

Chan chuckled and gently pulled your hands away from your face, looking at you with a lazy, satisfied smile.

“Hey, you were incredible,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “And for the record… I don’t usually bring girls back here either. So we’re both a little crazy tonight.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest, cheeks burning.

“I can’t feel my legs properly. I think you broke me.”

“Good,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “Means I did my job right.”

After a few more minutes of quiet cuddling and soft kisses, Chan sat up slowly.

“Come on. Let’s take a shower. You’re covered in sweat and cum… and I probably am too.”

He stood up first, completely naked and still looking unfairly hot even after everything. Then he leaned down and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. You let out a surprised squeak, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Chan! I can walk!” you protested, even though your legs were shaking.

“Barely,” he replied with a smirk, carrying you toward the bathroom. “Let me be nice for five minutes.”

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment — huge rainfall shower, marble everywhere, and soft warm lighting. Chan turned on the water, waited for it to get hot, and then stepped in with you still in his arms.

He set you down carefully, but kept an arm around your waist to support you. The hot water felt like heaven on your sore body. Chan grabbed a soft sponge and gently washed you — your chest, your stomach, between your legs with surprising care. He was quiet now, focused, pressing occasional soft kisses to your shoulder.

“You’re being suspiciously sweet after railing me like that,” you mumbled, half-joking, half-suspicious.

Chan laughed softly, turning you around so he could wash your back.

“I can be sweet. Sometimes,” he said, kissing the back of your neck. “Especially after making you scream my name for two hours straight.”

You groaned again, embarrassed, and leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you under the warm water.

After the shower, Chan gave you one of his oversized soft t-shirts to wear. It reached mid-thigh on you and smelled like him. He carried you back to the bed (despite your weak protests) and pulled the clean sheets over both of you.

You were beyond exhausted. Your body felt heavy, legs sore, mind fuzzy. Chan pulled you into his arms again, your head resting on his chest, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.

“Stay the night,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t even think about leaving. You can barely stand.”

You wanted to argue, but you were already drifting off. The last thing you felt was Chan’s warm body against yours, his fingers still gently playing with your hair, and the soft sound of his heartbeat under your cheek.

“…Okay,” you mumbled sleepily, already half gone. “Just… don’t tell anyone I acted like a complete whore tonight.”

Chan chuckled quietly, hugging you tighter.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Within seconds, you were fast asleep in Bang Chan’s arms, in his massive bed, in his luxurious penthouse.

And for the first time in a long time… you felt completely at peace

You woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through familiar curtains. Your body felt heavy, sore in places you didn’t even know could get sore. You blinked a few times, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

This was… your room.

Your apartment. Your bed. Your messy desk in the corner with the half-dead plant you always forgot to water.

“…What the hell?” you mumbled, sitting up with a groan. Your thighs ached. Your neck had a few suspicious marks. And between your legs… well, you definitely felt what had happened last night.

You looked down. You were wearing an oversized black t-shirt that definitely wasn’t yours. It smelled like expensive cologne and Chan.

Before you could process anything, your bedroom door burst open.

“GOOD MORNING, MISS ‘I don’t go home with famous guys’!” Mina sang loudly, walking in with two cups of coffee like she owned the place. She was already fully dressed, makeup on, looking far too energetic for someone who had been at the same party.

You stared at her, brain still buffering.

“Mina…? How— when did I get home?”

Mina grinned like a shark that had just smelled blood. She sat on the edge of your bed and handed you one of the coffees.

“Chan brought you home around 7 AM. You were dead asleep in his arms like a little princess. He carried you from the car all the way to your bed. Very romantic, by the way. I almost took pictures but I was being respectful.”

You blinked slowly, trying to connect the dots.

“I… don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah, because you were completely knocked out,” Mina laughed. “He knocked on the door, holding you like a bride, and asked if he could put you in bed. I obviously said yes. Then he tucked you in, kissed your forehead, and told me to text him when you woke up. Very smooth. Very hot. 10/10.”

You pulled the blanket over your head, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I let him bring me home. I was supposed to call an Uber or something. I wasn’t planning on… staying the night.”

Mina yanked the blanket down, eyes sparkling with pure evil delight.

“Girl. You disappeared with Bang Chan for hours. You came back wearing his shirt, covered in hickeys, and walking like you rode a mechanical bull for six rounds. Don’t even try to play shy now. Spill. How was it? Was he big? Did he eat it good? Was he rough? I need details, bestie. I stayed up waiting for this.”

You buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning.

“Mina, I— we… yeah. A lot. Multiple times. He was… very enthusiastic. And vocal. Like, really vocal. Whiny. Moaning a lot. And he has stamina from hell. I lost count after the third round.”

Mina screamed dramatically and shook your shoulders.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! The way he was eye-fucking you at the table? I told you! And he brought you home? That’s boyfriend behavior. Pilots don’t usually do that.”

You peeked through your fingers, still mortified.

“I woke up thinking I was still in his penthouse… and now I’m here. I don’t even remember leaving his bed. I just remember… being really tired and him kissing my hair.”

Mina fake-swooned, hand on her chest.

“He kissed your hair? I’m gonna cry. That’s so cute. So he’s a gentleman after rearranging your guts? I respect it.”

You threw a pillow at her, laughing despite your embarrassment.

“Stop! I feel like I got hit by a truck. My legs are dead. I think I have bruises on my ass. He spanked me. A lot.”

Mina’s eyes widened with pure joy.

“Yes! King behavior! Did he pull your hair too? Choke you? Tell me he’s a freak, I need this.”

You nodded, hiding your face again.

“He’s… very freaky. But also sweet after. He showered with me, gave me his shirt, carried me to bed… I don’t know what to think. I literally went from ‘I’m not that kind of girl’ to ‘let me ride you while you fill me up’ in one night.”

Mina cackled, almost spilling her coffee.

“Welcome to the club, bestie. One night with Bang Chan and you’re walking funny. I’m so proud of you. My little slut is all grown up.”

You groaned again, but you were smiling.

“I’m never drinking again. Or going to parties. Or looking at Ferraris. Or handsome pilots. This was a mistake.”

Mina raised an eyebrow.

“So… are you gonna text him?”

You paused.

“…Maybe. He told you to let him know when I woke up.”

Mina grinned mischievously and pulled out her phone.

“Already did. I sent him a picture of you sleeping with his shirt on. Caption: ‘Your girl is alive. Barely.’”

You screamed and lunged for her phone.

“Mina!”

She laughed loudly, holding the phone away from you.

“Relax! He replied with a heart emoji and said he’ll call you later. See? He’s whipped already.”

You fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, equal parts horrified and giddy.

“I can’t believe I had sex with Bang Chan… multiple times… and now he wants to call me.”

Mina lay down next to you, bumping your shoulder.

“Best night of your life, right?”

You were quiet for a second, then smiled shyly.

“…Yeah. It really was.”

Mina squealed and hugged you sideways.

“That’s my girl! Now tell me everything. Start from when you left the party. I want the uncensored version.”

You were still lying in bed, laughing with Mina as you told her (with heavy censorship) some details from the night before. After a few minutes, you decided you really needed to change clothes. Your body was deliciously sore, but you couldn’t stand wearing just Chan’s huge shirt anymore.

“Wait, I’m gonna change real quick,” you said, getting up slowly with a groan.

Mina dramatically threw herself onto your bed and took a sip of her coffee.

“Go ahead, take it all off. I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. No shame, you little slut.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the oversized shirt over your head, leaving you in just your panties. That’s when it happened.

You looked down at your body to check the damage Chan had left… and froze.

Right in the center of your chest, between your breasts, was his signature in bold black permanent marker — big, stylish, exactly like the autographs he usually gives. And written right underneath it in clear capital letters:

“PROPERTY OF BANG CHAN"

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“…No.”

Mina, who had been scrolling on her phone, looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

You pointed at your own chest in pure shock.

Mina’s eyes widened. She slowly sat up on the bed and let out the loudest scream you’d ever heard in your life.

“HOLY FUUUUUUUUCK!!!”

She jumped up and got closer, almost spilling her coffee, staring at your breasts like they were the most ridiculous masterpiece she’d ever seen.

“He signed them?! He literally signed your tits?! And wrote ‘PROPERTY OF BANG CHAN’?! Girl, this isn’t fanfiction anymore, this is straight-up 2000s porn plot shit!”

You stood there, mouth open, still staring down at your chest.

“I… I can’t believe he did this. When the hell did he even…?”

“Probably while you were passed out from all the orgasms,” Mina said with zero filter, still staring. “Jesus Christ, look at his handwriting. It’s actually pretty. The man has style even when marking his territory.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified but also laughing nervously.

“I’m going to kill him. I swear to God I’m going to kill him. How am I supposed to remove this? It’s permanent marker! Mina, I have a meeting tomorrow!”

Mina burst out laughing, holding her stomach.

“Imagine you in a serious meeting, open your blazer and there it is — ‘Property of Bang Chan’ written across your tits. Best presentation of your life.”

“Stop laughing! This isn’t funny!” you complained, but you were already laughing with her, half-hysterical.

“It’s extremely funny! The man fucked you until your brain melted and still had time to autograph you like you were one of his posters. This is peak degeneracy. He treated you like an official trophy.”

You looked down at your chest again and sighed, gently running your fingers over the signature.

“…His handwriting is kind of nice, though.”

Mina threw a pillow at your face.

“Don’t you dare start thinking it’s cute! He literally branded you like cattle! Next step is a collar with his name on it.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you walked to the mirror to see it better.

“I still can’t believe I let him do this. I don’t even remember him grabbing a pen. I must have blacked out hard.”

“You blacked out so hard that he managed to bring you home, put you in bed, and you still didn’t wake up,” Mina said, standing behind you and looking at your reflection in the mirror. “But honestly… it looks kinda aesthetic. If you two ever break up, you could sell your tits as official Bang Chan memorabilia. You’d make a fortune.”

You turned to her, pretending to be shocked.

“You are a horrible person.”

“And you’re the girl who woke up with a famous pilot’s signature on her boobs. We’re perfect for each other.”

You shook your head, still laughing, and started looking for clothes that could hide the “artwork” as much as possible.

Just then, your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

It was a message from Chan.

Chan:

Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling? Did you see my little gift yet? 😌

You showed the screen to Mina.

She screamed again.

“He’s even worse than I thought. Reply right now. Tell him you’re getting it tattooed permanently.”

You threw the phone onto the bed, laughing and dying of embarrassment at the same time.

This was going to be one hell of a morning

just completely dead.

you twisted the key in the ignition again—nothing. not even a weak cough or a vibration—just silence. “baby, seriously? now?” your voice cracked with frustration as you let your forehead thud against the steering wheel—once, twice—hands gripping the wheel. 

“i just got you out of the workshop!” 

you were already running late, even dressed up nicer than usual—your baby tees that weren't oil stained for once, the one that hugged your curves just right, paired with shorts that fit, and the delicate necklace your boyfriend had given you last month. 

not to mention, your hair was done, a touch of makeup—with that fluttery feeling in your tummy because tonight was supposed to be special. weeks of texting, late–night calls, finally seeing him again…

and now you were stuck on the side of some forgotten highway with a dead car and no signal. 

you let out a shaky breath. thank god the sun wasn’t dipping yet—it was only around 4 p.m. there was plenty of daylight left, hours before the sky would think about turning purple orange. that bought you time to get some help and inform your boyfriend the car was broken.

except…

your phone had no signal.

“oh my gosh—is this a joke?” you shook your phone again, tapping the surface on your palm in hopes it’d suddenly receive a signal from somewhere. when it didn’t—you tossed your phone to the side, landing on the passenger seat. 

“okay… okay yn, think,” you muttered to yourself, leaning back and rubbing your temples. pop the hood? you weren’t a mechanic—you’d only do damage to the car. or wait it out—someone had to drive by eventually, right? 

you stared out the windshield at the empty road stretching both ways, the quiet was almost too loud. your eyes trailed up to the little hill. you could walk a little ways to see if you could find higher ground for signal?

but it’s so… high and your last meal was a brunch that was almost four hours ago…

sit here and… hope?

you reached for the door handle, about to step out and at least look like you were doing something, when a sound caught your ear—clearer and closer.

hoofbeats.

steady… unhurried… like the rider itself had all the time in the world. 

you froze, hand still on the handle, and watched from the rearview mirror as he emerged fully into view.

a lone rider on a sleek black horse, moving along the edge of the highway. dark jacket opened over a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his black cowboy hat pulled low, shadowing his face just enough to make your stomach flip with curiosity.

the way he sat on the saddle—straight–backed, relaxed but controlled—that quiet confidence dripping off him. 

the man guided the horse closer, slowing to a stop a respectful distance from your car. the animal snorted softly, tossing its head to the side, and the rider leaned forward to calm it with a gentle pat on the neck.

then—those dark eyes lifted to meet yours through the mirror.

sharp. intense.

your breath hitched in your lungs—he swung down from the saddle effortlessly, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. tall—taller than you’d expected—long legs, lean build … biceps… the kind of presence that made the wide–open desert space around you feel suddenly smaller.

he adjusted his hat with one hand, the other holding reins loosely, and took a few slow steps toward your opened passenger window.

“hey there,” he said, voice low and smooth like… whiskey over ice, a faint tint drawl curling around the edges. he tilted his head just slightly, studying you—and the dead car—with calm interest.

“car troublin’ ya?”

your mouth went dry and you swore you forgot how to breathe. up close—he was even more fuckin’ striking. high cheekbones, honey skin glowing in the sunlight, lips pressed into a subtle line that hinted at amusement. 

you… you didn’t know who this guy was—but fuck, he’s fucking hot. 

you swallowed, managing a small nod. “y—yeah,” you finally said, voice coming out softer than you meant. “it just… died. won’t start—and there’s no signal out here.”

his gaze flicked to your phone on the passenger seat, then back to you. one corner of his mouth lifted.

“mind if i take a look?” 

you gave him a small nod—he knew you’d say yes anyway, what option did you have? he stepped toward the front of the car. you popped the hood from inside, the latch clicking, then pushed the door open and climbed out.

the warm, dry, afternoon air hitting your skin.

sunghoon moved with that same unhurried motion, grace, looping the reins over his horse’s neck so she stayed put. he took off his jacket and rolled off his sleeves a little higher as he approached the engine, revealing his… toned forearms and biceps dusted with dust and sunlight.

you tried not to stare.

he leaned over the hood, one had bracing against the metal, the other tracing—his index and middle fingers—along the battery cables, checking connections… peering at belts and fluids… things that a pretty girl like you wouldn’t and shouldn’t know anyway. 

those nice… slender fingers… suited being somewhere… better.

your eyes travelled at the way his black shirt stretched across his back and shoulders when he shifted… the light caught the sharp line of his jaw. 

you stood a few feet away, arms loosely crossed against your chest, pretending to care about the car—but there’s a better view before you.

“battery looks fine,” he murmured, almost to himself. he straightened slightly, wiping a smudge of grease onto his jeans without care, then glanced over at you.

his eyes lingered.

not that… quick check–in if you were okay; but that slow… deliberate… lingering sweep—down the length of you. sunghoon swallowed in the baby blue baby tee clinging softly to your frame, the way your hair fell across your shoulders, the faint flush rising on your cheeks.

sunghoon tried so hard—so fucking hard—to not let his eyes fall onto the dip of your cleavage.

he failed.

when his gaze came back up to meet yours, he made it so obvious he was checking you out. there was something dark and unreadable flickering behind those orbs. curiousity—interest, something warmer than… the polite stranger act.

you shifted, suddenly hyper–aware of how close he was, how the faint scent of leather and sun–warmed skin drifted on the breeze. 

“there’s a leak,” he said finally, tipping his chin toward your engine. “that’s why she overheated and shut down.” his tone was matter–of–fact, but he held your eyes longer than necessary made it feel anything but casual.

“...oh,” you managed, stepping closer—to see what he was pointing at—but honestly, just really drawn into his aura. you were so close to see the faint sheen at his temple, the way his lashes cast shadows. you were so close sunghoon could see the droplets of sweat trailing down the side of your neck, the way your upper teeth caught on your bottom lip.

he didn’t move. 

instead, sunghoon stayed leaned against your car, arms loosely folded, watching you—not the engine—so painfully obvious it made your pulse flutter. 

wow—you had no idea what’s leaking… in terms of the car, at least.

“you headed somewhere importan’?” he asked, voice dropping a fraction lower. his gaze flicked to your lips, then back up before you caught it. you swallowed. “mmhm. i… was supposed to meet… someone.”

a beat. 

sunghoon’s head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitched into the tiniest smirk. “must be real disappointed right now,” he said, soft and slow, eyes never leaving yours. your breath hitched and the tension coiled tighter, warm and heavy in your chest… spreading lower.

“i—it’s okay,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out shy and a little breathless. your laugh soft and nervous as you tucked a strand of hair. “they’ll understand.”

his eyes stayed on you for a beat, dropping down just a little on your collarbone—but that faint smirk deepened just enough to make your tummy flip. after what felt like hours, sunghoon pushed off your yellow car, straightening to his full height that just towered over you.

“sunghoon,” he said simply, extending his hand. his voice was low, steady. 

sunghoon, you rolled his name mindlessly in the back of your mind, tasting his name on your tongue. “mmhm,” you slipped your hand into his—warm and rough against your bare, softer skin—his grip firm but careful, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

the contact lingered, and neither of you pulled away first. 

“yn,” you answered. 

“yn,” he repeated, tasting the name like he was trying it out. a small nod, almost approving. sunghoon licked his lips before continuing. “pretty name for a pretty girl stuck on the side of the road.”

heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly glanced away, pretending to look at the engine, but you could feel his gaze still on you. it’s so unfair, you thought. 

you broke it first. “well,” sunghoon sighed, closing the hood with a gentle thud, wiping his hands on his handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. “car’s ain’t gonna fix themselves out here. leaking like that—you’re not drivin’ anywhere tonight without coolant.” 

you bit your lip, shaking your head, glancing at the empty hallway. “yeah… i figured.”

sunghoon looked at you—pity girl—then at his horse, then back at you—something flashed in his eyes. 

“look,” he said, running his fingers through his dark locks. “i’ve got tools back at the ranch. spare house, too. it’s only a couple miles down the road.” he tilted his head slightly, making his gaze feel more intense. 

“you can ride with me. get it fixed before dark, get your back on your way.”

your heart stuttered. ride with him..? ride him? on the horse? or…?

he must’ve seen the question in your eyes because the corner of his mouth lifted again. “my girl can take us both. or i can lead and walk, and you just sit pretty.” 

you swallowed, glancing at the sun still high enough in the sky, the golden light catching on his shirt. then your gaze flicked back to the horse—big, calm, but still a horse…

what about… stranger danger…? 

the thought slipped out before you could stop it, soft and uncertain, fingers twisting around the hem of your baby tee. 

“um… what about stranger danger?” you asked, half laughing to cover your nerves, cheeks heating up again. you supposed you could just… ask this kind sunghoon stranger to return with a pipe… or something…

“i mean, i don’t know you—you don’t know me… and you want me to just… hop on your horse and ride off to your ranch?”

sunghoon paused. for a second, his expression didn’t really change, but the corner of his mouth curved. he’d find your worry both endearing and adorable. 

cute.

“fair,” he said, shrugging. there was no defensiveness, or offense in it at all. he let his hand drop to his side, giving you space. “if you’re wonderin’ or scared, i get it. pretty girl alone out here—i’d be worried too.”

he glanced down the road in the direction he’d come from, then back at you.

“i live just a couple miles that way,” he continued, nodding toward a faint dirt turnoff you hadn’t noticed before. “there’s a diner right off the main road before you even get to my ranch—folks and ladies there know me.” 

a small huff escaped him. 

“or,” he added, tilting his head slightly, eyes softening. “we can walk the whole way. i’ll lead the way slow. you stay ten feet back if you want, i’ll even let you hold the reins.”

he said it completely serious too… like your comfort truly mattered more than getting back quickly. the sincerity in his voice, the way he didn’t push or be weird about it—just offering—made something in your chest loosen.

you looked at him again—you supposed… there was no point in waiting for other help to come by—and your heart gave a traitorous little thud. 

“mm… okay. lead me the way.”

you slipped your hand out—and his fingers closed around yours and he guided you toward his horse. the animal watched you with dark eyes—much like the owner—ears flicking as you approached. 

“easy now,” sunghoon murmured, more to the horse than you, running his hand down her neck. “snow’s gentle, she won’t throw you.”

he turned to you, smiling. “you ever been on a horse before?”

you shook your head, laughing nervously. “never… not even once—never had a reason to.”

a soft huff escaped him—almost a chuckle. “first time for everything.”

sunghoon moved to the side, cupping his hands together in a boost. “left foot here, grab the saddle horn and swing your right leg over it when i lift.” 

your heart pounded, but you did as he said. sunghoon’s hands settled on your waist as he hoisted you up, strong and sure, and then you were in the saddle—legs dangling awkwardly, gripping the horn.

“eek—!”

he chuckled, swung behind you in a motion he’d done a billion times, settling in close—really close. his chest brushed your back as he reached around you for the reins, thighs framing yours, the heat of him immediately and overwhelming. 

“you good?” sunghoon asked, voice low near your ear. you swallowed the lump in your throat, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. “m—mmhm,” you managed, hyper aware of every little shift and contact. 

sunghoon’s arm circled loosely around your waist just to steady you on the horse—and you felt the subtle shift of his body as he nudged the horse forward with his heels. 

snow started walking and rolling—making you sway instinctively. you tensed, gripping the horn harder.

“relax,” he said quietly, breathing now against the side of your neck. “lean back a little, i got you.”

you eased against him just slightly. his arm tightened the tiniest bit in response—reassured. the horse settled into a rhythm along the edge of the highway, hooves clopping against the dirt. the sun was still bright, golden, warm breeze carrying the scent of dry grass and… him.

for a minute, neither of you spoke. 

until sunghoon broke it.

“so… where were you headed, dressed up like that?”

you laughed softly, glancing down at your baby tee and your nice jeans. “just… meeting someone.” sunghoon hummed, a deep sound that vibrated against your back from how close he was. “poor lad, waitin’ somewhere wonderin’ where you are right now.” 

“probably,” you bit your lip, suppressing back a smile. 

another beat. 

his thumb brushed idly against the rein near your hip. “must be somethin’ special between you two,” he murmured, humming. “to get you out here lookin’ this pretty.”

your cheeks burned. you turned your head just enough to catch him—sharp line of his jaw… the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes.

“mayhaps,” you said softly. “could be i just like dressing up sometimes.”

sunghoon let out a quiet breath of laughter. “fair enough.”

snow kept walking, carrying you both on her strong body. you shifted slightly, getting used to the rhythm, and you slowly realised you weren’t as scared anymore. 

actually… it felt kind of nice. the warmth of sunghoon, the strength of his arms, the quiet that didn’t feel awkward at all. 

“so…” you said after a moment, corner of your lips twitched into a teasing smirk. “you do this often? rescue stranded girls on horseback?” 

his lips curved—just a little. “first time of everything.”

you smiled despite yourself. “lucky me, then.”

he didn’t answer right away, just tightened his arm a fraction, guiding snow off the highway and onto the dirt path leading to the ranch. “yeah,” he said finally, voice warm against your ear. 

“lucky me.”

——

sunghoon reached up for you, hands settling on your waist again—firm and steady—lifting you down like you weighed a feather. your boots hit the ground, but his hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

“welcome to the house,” he said dryly, gesturing at the perfect tidy yard. a faint smile tugged at his lips as he tied the reins. “come on in, i’ll grab you something while i check the garage.”

he led you up the porch steps and pushed open the front foor—no lock, you noticed. must be safe around here, you thought, humming. the cool air inside hit you—the faint smell of coffee and wood floors.

“make yourself at home,” sunghoon said, tipping off his hat and hanging it on a hook. his dark hair fell slightly messier without it, a few strands brushing his forehead. “water, iced tea, lemon—fridge it through there.” he nodded toward the open kitchen.

“i’ll be in the garage. shouldn’t take long.”

his space was simple and tidy—leather couch facing a fireplace, shelves lined with books and framed photos of … sunghoon and his friends. his six other friends. equally as fine. a worn acoustic guitar leaned in one corner, blankets folded neatly over the couch arm.

no clutter, nothing sterile either. 

just him.

you wandered through the big picture window overlooking the fields, the late–afternoon light pouring in soft. a few horses grazed in the distance. 

everything was peaceful in a way the city never was. 

the glass of lemonade cold in your hand as you turned slowly. your eyes landed on a small cluster of framed photos near the front door—one of sunghoon on horseback, younger; another him with an older man who shared the same features. must’ve been his father. 

you didn’t realise you’d drifted closer, drawn in by that smile on his face. you were standing right in front of it, lemonade tilted slightly in your grip—completely lost in the photo,

when the door swung open.

sunghoon stepped inside, grease smudged rag in one hand, the other pushing the door wide—and you startled hard.

the glass jerked in your fingers—cold lemonade sloshed over the rim, splashing down the front of your baby tee in a sticky streak that soaked straight through the thin fabric. 

“oh—gosh—” you gasped, jumping back a step, holding the glass out. sunghoon’s eyes widened half a second before he was moving, closing the door behind him with his boot and crossing to you.

“fuck, sorry—didn’t mean to scare ya’,” he said, voice rushed, already reaching for the rag in his hand. but it was dirty, so he stopped. “gosh, you okay?”

you laughed, breathless, embarrassed heat flooding your face. the lemonade left a cold, clinging patch right… across your front. “it’s fine, i wasn’t paying attention,” you mumbled, dabbing at the stain with your fingers instead. 

“was looking at your pictures.”

he didn’t move back, didn’t look away. the air between you felt suddenly too small and cold again… despite everything burning. 

“i’ve got spare shirts in the laundry room,” he said after a beat, eyes dropping to the stain—pervert—once more before meeting yours again. “clean ones, if you want to change.”

you nodded slowly, heart thudding in against your ribs. 

“mm.. yeah, sure,” you said softly, glancing up to him from underneath your lashes. “that… might be good.” 

——

you peeled off your soaked baby tee, the sticky lemonade making it cling uncomfortably. you’re only grateful your bra was there to soak the rest before the liquid reached your skin. 

his… white shirt was huge—falling halfway down your thighs and completely covering your shorts, sleeves past your elbows, the collar loose enough to slip off one shoulder if you weren’t careful. 

it smelled like sunghoon—clean cotton and traces of wood musk.

“... nice,” you caught your reflection in the small mirror above your dryer and laughed quietly to yourself. you looked swallowed whole by it.

just then, your eyes landed on something else through the reflection—his brown cowboy hat, hanging on a hook just inside the door. the different one from what he wore earlier. you bit your lip, glancing toward the door.

no signs of him.

just for fun, you never wore a cowboy hat before.

you reached up on your tippy toes and plucked it off the hook, settling in your head. it was too big, obviously—sliding down over your eyebrows until you had to tip it back with a finger. 

to be honest, you looked kinda… hot. yeah—seductive, almost. 

you smoothed his shirt down, adjusted the hat, and pushed the door open. 

sunghoon was leaning just against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, looking down at his boots—but the second you stepped out, his head lifted.

and he froze. 

his gaze swept over you—deliberately. the—his—oversized shirt hanging loose on your smaller frame, the hem brushing your thighs (only the little ripped strands of your shorts were showing up), the way the fabric draped over your shoulders.

that… hat tilting playfully on your head.

everything about him stilled. even the air felt heavier. his pants got tighter.

“everything’s… big,” you giggled, laughing to break the sudden tension, tugging at the sleeve that swallowed your hand. you gave a small spin, the shirt flaring slightly—you held the hat by the brim. 

“like, really big.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t even smile at first.

sunghoon just stared, his eyes darker than before, jaw tight, lips… wet. 

then he pushed off the counter, closing the distance in one slow step. 

“yeah?” he murmured, voice rougher, dropping an octave lower… low enough that you swore it vibrated in your chest. sunghoon reached out, fingers brushing the brim of the—his—hat, adjusting it slightly so it sat better.

so he could see your pretty face clearer.

his thumb grazed your temple as he did. 

“looks better on you.” 

your breath caught. he was close again—too close—hand lingering near your face. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his musk and sweat filling every inch of space between you.

he didn’t step back.

he took a slow step forward—then another.

until your back met the wall with a soft thud, the cool wood at your spine contrasting to what’s warming you up in front of you. the hat tilted slightly on your head as you tipped it back to look up at him, and his eyes—heavy lidded—locked onto yours.

“r—really?” 

his hand dropped from the brim, trailing down the side of your neck, over the loose collar of his shirt on you, until his palm settled at your waist. fingers splayed wide—possessive—puling you in just a fraction closer.

then his hand went lower, skimming the curve of your hip, thumb pressing lightly into the dip above your shorts. 

you didn’t want to move.

your hands came up instantly, fingers curling into the front of his black shirt, feeling his heart thumping under your palms. 

“mmhm,” sunghoon leaned in, forehead almost touching yours, breath warm against your lips. “you’ve been driving me crazy since i saw you in that car,” he said, voice low. “now you’re in my shirt, my hat—lookin’ like you belong here or somethin’.”

your lips parted, but no words came—just a soft, shaky exhale.

his gaze dropped to your mouth. 

“you do this often?” sunghoon murmured, his fingers drumming your skin. “wreck your car hopin’ some stranger’ll come along and fix it?”

you felt the words more than heard them… the teasing edge softened by the way his thumb traced your hip. 

“only cowboys like you,” you whispered, the words barely out before—

sunghoon closed that tiny gap.

he slammed his lips against yours—evoking a soft, surprised gasp out of you—his hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him and positioning his knee in between your legs. 

you melted almost instantly into his mouth, hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down as sunghoon angled his head to kiss you harder and deeper. his tongue traced your bottom lip, teasing, then slipped inside when you gasped for him—slow, hot, unhurried. 

it made your knees buckle and weak. 

sunghoon groaned quietly when you tagged at his hair, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours. “ngh—hngh—” you moaned into his mouth, tugging him down. the hat titled precariously; but he caught it with one hand, readjusting it on top of your head without breaking the kiss. 

both of his hands were back on you—one splayed across your lower back, the other cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, lifting your head up. sunghoon glided his tongue along your row of teeth, tasting you slow and thorough. 

a low hum rumbled in his chest when you parted for him, your own tongue meeting his in a slick curl that made you tighten your grip around his shirt. “hah—s—sunghoon,” you breathed out. your salivas mixed, messy and hot, a thin strand connecting your lips when he pulled back just enough to breathe—

only to dive back in harder, swallowing every little whimper and moan. 

sunghoon kissed like he worked for it… having complete control like he would with snow—angling your head to take it deeper how he wanted it to be. your back arched against the wall as his hand on your lower back slid lower, palm running along the globe of your ass before it spread over the curve of your hip.

“ah—,” you gasped as he pressed forward. you felt the head line of his cock beneath his jeans against your stomach—he was just as wrecked as you were.

sunghoon broke the kiss only to drag his mouth along your jaw, teeth scraping at the sensitive spot under your ear before coming back to your lips, no less filthy than before—long and wet and deep that left you dizzy.

your pussy was growing crazily wet and warm—heat pooling your tummy as you began grinding and rubbing yourself on his knee. 

“still wanna get that car fixed?” he whispered, teasing against your swollen mouth, lips brushing but not quite kissing.

you panted, looking up at him through half lidded eyes, before answering by pulling him back in, kissing him open–mouthed and desperate, fingers threading through his hair to keep him there. he groaned into you, low and raw, and kissed you back just as deep.

sunghoon’s hands roamed—down your sides, slipping into the loose fabric of his shirt on you—until he suddenly spun you around in a smooth motion—your palms hitting the kitchen counter with a slap. 

“hngh—?” you gasped as he pressed in behind you, chest to your back, hips slotting against you. sunghoon didn’t stop kissing you—his strong… bigger hand came up to your jaw, fingers curled around your soft jaw as he turned your head sideways so he could claim your mouth from this new angle.

deep.. messy, relentless—the other hand splayed across your tummy, pulling you flush.

“fuck,” he murmured, grinding slow and deliberate against the curve of your ass through your shorts, the friction sending sparks down your cunt. a low rumble vibrated from his chest as he rolled his hips again, his hard on pressing hard between your asscheeks. 

sunghoon’s lips broke from yours to drag wet kisses along your exposed side of your neck, teeth grazing the skin as he left angry lovebites before he turned your face toward him again, capturing your mouth in another horny kiss. 

all while his hips kept that rhythm—rubbing against you, clothed but undeniably fucking horny. “you feel what you’re doin’ to me?” 

you could only whimper in response, arching your back and pushing against him—eliciting a groan out him, deeper, his hips snapping forward—so fucking hard—before he slowed.

you pulled back to catch your breath, knees weakening as you braced yourself on your forearms. the words slipped out before you could stop them—half plea, half teasing.

“are you going to keep humpin’ me, or are you going to let me ride you, cowboy?” 

the air went still for a beat.

the corner of his lips twitched—and so did his eye—sunghoon scoffed dryly. you barely had time to register the shift in his energy and demeanour before his palm cracked against your ass through the denim. 

not gentle.

a firm, stinging smack echoed in the kitchen made you gasp, jolting forward against the corner. 

“watch that mouth,” he hummed low against your ear, body still pinned, his hand caressing the globe of your ass where he’d just smacked them. “you don’t get to call the shots just yet.” 

you breath hitched at the first rush of the sting, at the command of his voice. you bit your lip to keep another bratty remark to yourself—but failed to hide the way your hips rolled back against him. 

he huffed before he moved—hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady, turning you just enough to guide you back against the counter before he sank down. 

slowly.

until sunghoon was on his knees behind you, eye level with the curve of your ass, one palm smoothing over the spot he’d just smacked. “i’ll tell you what to do,” he murmured, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your jeans. he didn’t ask; just straight up unbuttoned them with a quick flick of his slender fingers and tugged everything down in one drag—

jeans and panties together—until they pooled at your knees. 

“mmmh,” cool air hit your skin, but only for a second before his warm hands were back on your asscheeks, spreading them apart from behind. “hold still, pretty girl,” he muttered—and just like that—

his mouth was on your cunt. 

no teasing and no hesitation—just confidence dripping down like your juices down your thighs. sunghoon licked a long, flat stripe up your centre, groaning low at the taste that he’d been starving for. “ungh—oh gosh,” you gasped, knees buckling on his face as you gripped the counter harder, shaky moans slipping out.

sunghoon’s tongue circled your clit from behind—once, twice—sucking the little pea in pressure that made your hips jerk back against his face. “fuckin’ hell, so sweet,” he rasped. his strong arm banded across your lower tummy, locking you in place—on his handsome face, sharp nose digging between your ass.

he didn’t let you move or shift as much as he slipped his tongue inside your cunt—sliding back up, in and out, flicking, and swirling around inside. “s—sunghoon, sunghoon,” you moaned softly, eyes fluttering. 

wet sounds filled up his kitchen, filthy and so fucking obscenely loud—his mouth working you open, lips sealing like he’s making out with your pussy lips now before it moved around your clit again and again, sucking until your thighs trembled.

he sucked and tugged the pea towards him. 

it’s something you’ve never, not in the years of your life, ever experienced. every time you tried to push back down for more, sunghoon only tightened his hold and slowed down like he’s telling you that you’re not in charge here. 

then, he dragged his tongue in lazy, torturous strokes until you whined, before speeding up suddenly—fast with relentless flicks that had you gasping his name. “your tongue feels s’good, oh fuck,” 

his free hand came up between your legs, two fingers sliding into you without warning, stretching you tight cunt and curling deep and stroking in time with his tongue. the combo wrecked you badly—your head dropped forward, forehead pressing to the cool counter as your toe curled inwards on itself.

“w—what—?! oh, fuck, sunghoon—” 

he hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks in your tummy, and doubled down. “gotta stretch you out before i give you the real thing,” he murmured against your wet cunt, sucking hard, fingers thrusting faster, pressing on that spongy spot inside. 

your legs shook as you began subtly riding on his two fingers as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. “‘m cumming, wanna cum, cum—,” you whined adorably, chest heaving as pleasure swelled up in your gut.

“mmhm—?” sunghoon hummed teasingly, you felt the corner of his lips twitched. you tightened around his fingers—walls spasming around his digits. sunghoon curled his fingers inside and traced his name against your walls. 

he’s so fucking filthy, it’s disgustingly hot.

an ecstasy tidal wave quickly rushed over you—and before you knew it, your walls pulsated before you came right on his fingers and tongue, against his face. “oh fuck—!” you cried out sharply, curling your hands into fists as you hung your head low.

every limbs of yours felt like jelly, your body twitched—clenching around him as he licked you through every pulse, gulping down your juices and squirt that trailed down your inner thighs. 

“fuck, you’re so sweet, so good,” he moaned, slowly pulling his fingers out that left you empty almost instantly, pussy squeezing the thin air. your thighs trembled in pleasure as sunghoon spread your asscheeks with his wet fingers, pressing one last slow, deliberate long lick from your sensitive clit up to your entrance. 

“good girl,” he whispered, hands smoothed up your sides before rising behind you. 

“now… about that ride you wanted…”

you turned in his arms, still buzzing, still twitching, legs unsteady. sunghoon’s eyes were swimming with lust, lips slick and swollen from you. the hard line of him pressed against your hip through his jeans—impossible to ignore. 

a slow, wicked smile tugged at your mouth as you sank down now—your turn, mirroring the way he’d just knelt for you—until you were on your knees in front of him. 

sunghoon’s breath hitched, hand automatically coming up to lift the brim of his hat to look at your face. you looked up at him from under your curled lashes, palms sliding up his thighs, feeling his cock tense and twitch under denim. 

“fair’s fair, cowboy,”

he exhaled a rough laugh, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “you don’t have to—”

but you were already popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down slow enough to make him groan—preparing himself. “don’t have to what?” you asked innocently, tugging everything down just enough, and his—

his cock sprang free—thick, heavy, flicked dark and already leaking precum at the tip. 

your eyes widened and your breath hitched, his cock throbbed right in front of your eyes—it casted shadow over your face. your lips parted, a gasp escaped your lips.

sunghoon was fucking big—no, huge—the biggest you’ve ever seen before. 

you could tell it was painful for him from the way his cock twitched in neediness, a low hiss escaped from his lips. “shit… surprised?” 

you wet your lips before swallowing the lump in your throat. there was… almost no way it’d fit in your mouth, much less your pussy. but you wrapped your hands around him—even with both hands, it still wasn’t enough to hold his whole cock—stroking once, twice, feeling him throb in your grip.

sunghoon’s head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed locked on you. 

you continued jerking him off in your hands, dragging every skin, feeling every veins, milking more of his precum that trailed on the side of your hands. “i thought only horses have big cocks…” you murmured before leaning in—tongue flicking out to taste the bead at the head, salty and warm—before taking him into your mouth in one slow slide.

“but i guess their owners have too…?” 

“fuck—” the curse tore out of him, low and husky, fingers tightening at your hair as his hat tipped to the side a little. he didn’t push, just holding as you took him in deeper, lips stretching around him. 

you only managed to take half of his cock inside your mouth before pulling back almost all the way, tongue swirling around the tip, then took him again, deeper this time, cheeks hollowing. sunghoon tasted manly—sweaty, but not the nasty kind. just… a man. 

his hips twitched, but he let you set the pace yourself. you worked him slow at first—wet, messy suckings, hand twisting in strokes at the base at the same time as your mouth—then faster, taking him in as far as you could until the tip hit your uvula, and your eyes watered.

“yn, fuck,” he groaned your name. your mouth was warm and wet, like entering a slimy, hot pond, cock totally engulfed in your saliva. it felt heavenly. you were disheveled and messy—but still so hot. glossy and smudged lipstick over your lips, leaving a pink ring mark around his cock with your flushed cheeks.

every time you pulled off to breathe, you looked up—watching his handsome face, thick brown furrowing, lips parted before his canines dragged the bottom lip, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fought not to thrust and fuck your mouth.

you hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his cock that made it twitch and he cursed again, “just like that,” he murmured.

you took him inside your mouth again, this time picking up your speed and pace in sucking him—the tip hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag and roll your eyes behind. 

his veins glided along your wet tongue, sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut as wet, clicky sounds filled the space. sunghoon falls into his temptation and thrusts his hips upward, hitch in his breath as you deepthroat him. 

“shit, ‘m cummin, fuck,” 

his whole body went rigid, hips jerking shallowly before spilling hot down your throat, pulse after pulse. your eyes widened but didn’t pull away, taking it all. contrasting from how soft you hummed around him while he shuddered through it, curses and your name tumbling from his lips.

your throat worked in gulps as you swallowed his milk down, hands steadying his thighs. sunghoon sagged back against the counter, chest heaving as you eased off low—lips sliding along his cock until he slipped free with a pop.

a thin strand of cum and spit connected you before breaking.

“hah… hngh,” you looked up at him, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb before slipping it inside your mouth to lick it clean, a smug little smile tugging at your messy lips. sunghoon stared down at you, breathing ragged, furrowing. 

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he muttered, running his hand down his face before reaching down to haul you up by your arms until you were pressed against him, foreheads touching. “you’re g’nna kill me.”

then he kissed you—deep, filthy—combining both the taste of him and you on your tongue and groaning into it. his hands slid down to grip your thighs, turning and lifting you easily onto the counter. 

“my turn again,” he murmured, hiking up your—his—shirt until it bunched at your waist. you were fully exposed to him from the hips down. “i ain’t stoppin’, so don’t tell me to.”

you only whimpered in response as sunghoon’s palm splayed across your lower stomach, holding you while the other hand wrapped around his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. the head of his cock scooped your slickness.

sunghoon teased you by slipping in just the head, stretching you and barely enough to evoke a soft gasp from your lips. from behind, he smirked at your reaction, looking down at how your slick hung down from his cock. 

“easy now,” he muttered, hissing as finally pushed in slow. the stretch was immediate though, thick and burning in the best way possible. you gasped aloud, head falling forward, fingers clawing at the granite as he sank deeper—inch by inch—until he almost bottomed out with a low, guttural groan against your neck.

“oh my fuckin’ god, sunghoon,” you cried out, feeling him in your stomach. “shit, you’re perfect,” he rasped, pulling back almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, hard—burying all his inches inside you. the slap of skin echoed in the kitchen as your body jolted forward with the force, the hat you’re wearing tipped sideways.

he set a relentless, needy pace from the start—deep and punishing thrusts that had you moaning and crying with every slam, his hand on your stomach pressed down his bulging cock through your flesh, feeling the skin swelling.

his other hand gripped your hip, steadying you while his fingers dug hard enough to bruise, pulling you back to meet every roll of his hips. “so goddamn tight,” he hissed, teeth grazing your shoulder. 

“takin’ me like you’re made for me.”

every thrust only dragged your walls, the head slamming and bullying that soft spot inside you, forming a wave of pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter until you’re left trembling against the counter. your breath hitched, babbling his name.

“more—more, more, more,” you whined. sunghoon didn’t let you up, his fingers moved down to work on your clit, rolling and rubbing his middle finger on that little pea as his hips snapped forward without mercy. 

sunghoon’s so horny it’s fucking crazy—he fucked into you deep and hard, every thrust punching air from your lungs. sweat beaded along his neck, rolled down his collarbone; dark hair stuck to his forehead—barely leashed hunger. 

he was always like this when he finally snapped—weeks, sometimes months, of nothing but endless ranch work and journey, early mornings, late nights, calloused hands busy with fences and horses and hay to even think about getting laid. 

there’s almost no time for bars, patience for games (although he liked to indulge himself in dart games), just pure, pent up need stacking higher and higher. 

so when you showed up—pretty, stranded, looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes, spilling lemonade down your shirt and ending up in his clothes and hat, space, hands…

 a girl like you, soft and city–sweet and practically begging to be taught how the town works, walking straight into his world—he couldn’t have stopped if he tried. he didn’t want to stop. 

a guttural sound tore out of him when you tightened, fingers rubbing your clit harder, pressing down. “fuck—take it,” he rasped. “take every fuckin’ inch,” 

you gasped, blossoming with excitement and arousal. your pleasure spills out in trembling moans, breathy cries mixing with the echo of your skin slapping together. “fuck, fuck, it feels so good, hoonie,” 

his eyes twitched before he delivered a smack against your asscheeck, the flesh jiggling before he quickly smoothed it down with his hand. “good,” he panted, clamping his teeth down on your shoulder. the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt reverberated through the kitchen. 

“wanna cum, a—again, please,” you pleaded, lips parting as you hung your head down. his cock was able to delve deeper from this position of your leg on the countertop, spreading your thighs further. “hm—? cummin’ again already?” sunghoon chuckled softly, slamming and bucking his hips up that the tip slammed against your cervix.

you nodded eagerly, whimpering. you’re so overstimulated—couldn’t think straight at the way your pussy spasmed around his throbbing length. “please, please i wanna cum real bad,” you whined, pleading. 

sunghoon dragged his nails and held your hips, his cock dragged against your velvety walls. “show me,” his words broke apart, the rhythm of his hips frantic and desperate. he wasn’t as close to cumming, and he wished to keep fucking you—but he supposed city girls didn’t have a lot of stamina. 

“cum on my fuckin’ cock, baby,”

you cursed out loud as a gush of warm liquid squirted out and down on your thighs—and his cock totally engulfed him warm and wet. he was buried so deep inside you, not moving as much to allow you to steady yourself. 

the orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami—overwhelmingly relentless. your vision whited out at the edges, walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, milking him, pulling him deeper like your body refused to let go. 

heat bloomed low in your tummy and spread in shocks as your body twitched, slumping on the counter. “oh gosh—oh my gosh,” you whimpered, thighs trembling, breath sharp, desperate gasps.

“fuck—look at you,” sunghoon rasped, fingers digging into your hips as he thrust through your climax, chasing his own release in the tight, slick grip—still not pulling out. “soakin’ me like that…” 

you felt vulnerable and claimed—there was no fucking way any other men can ever come close to this—sunghoon, his demeanour, his energy, his cock—ever again. not your boyfriend, not any boys anywhere. 

the wet mess between your legs proof of how thoroughly he done fucked you up.

“hngh—ah, i…” your words trailed off as you panted, pussy twitching around his cock… you stayed like that for a long moment—bent over his counter, wearing his shirt, his hat—his chest heaving against your back. 

sunghoon caressed the globe of your asscheek, spreading to see his wet cock and the way your squirt dripped down on his tiles. “you what?”

you shook your head, biting your bottom lip to stifle another whimper, then turned your head just enough to meet his gaze—eyes glassy, cheek adorably flushed, with that little bratty smile.

“i still haven’t ridden the cowboy…” 

sunghoon’s eyes widened for a fraction before a grin spread across his face.

“oh darlin’,” he chuckled softly. “you’re takin’ the reins.”

——

“oh fuck—!”

the sound tore out of you, high and whimpery as sunghoon licked straight up between your pussy lips one long stroke. no teasing this time—just pure filth and hunger. his tongue plunged inside you, swirling and thrusting back and forth inside your cunt, lips sealing around to suck hard.

your hands flew to the wooden headboard for balance, gripping the wood, hips rocking instinctively against his handsome face. the tip of his nose brushed your clit every time you moved. 

sunghoon groaned into you, the vibration going up your cunt. his hand held your hips from falling, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock, jerking off the taste of your cunt and the sound of your moans. 

wet sounds filled this room now, his nose brushing your clit as he devoured you from below. 

“hoonie—fuuuckkkk,” you whimpered, head falling back as you quickly held the hat on your head. sunghoon insisted—begged—you keep it on your head. said it’s fuckin’ hot, said you’re—

his.

sunghoon answered by clamping his teeth down on your flesh, not hard that it’s painful, but enough for you to feel the pressure and his canines. his one hand left your hip to reach up and palm your tits, thumb flicking the nipple while he sucked your clit relentless. 

there’s no way you could last much longer. not like this—not with him eating and tongue–fucking you like a straved man. 

and from the way his hips rolled up in his grip, cock leaking against his hand—he was loving every second of it. 

“hoonie, here it is’, oh jesus,” your voice broke as you grind harder. the orgasm hit like a bungee—your whole body tensed as your thighs trembled and kept his head locked between you as you came hard down on his face. 

a rush of warmth flooded out of you again, coating his mouth, chin, and sunghoon licked you clean, drinking your liquid down. your legs gave out completely and you sagged forward against the headboard, panting, shaking, the aftershocks rippling through you as he gentled his tongue in soothing licks to ease you.

slowly, sunghoon lifted you off him—guiding you down to straddle on his hips again. his face was slick with you, lips red and swollen, eyes dark and triumphant as he looked at you—hair a mess, tipped hat, chest heaving. 

your nipples perked up.

“fuck,” he rasped, cupping your tits. “you taste even better the second time.”

you collapsed forward onto his chest, feeling his cock hard and hot against your stomach. 

sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, one hand stroking your back, the other tangling in your hair. “ready to be a cowgirl, babe?” he murmured against your temple, hips rolling up once—his cock glided against your tummy. “or you need another minute?” he teased.

you whimpered and shook your head, already shifting your hips and straightening your spine. you placed your hands on his toned chest, biting your lip. 

“no more minutes,” you murmured, flicking your thumbs over his nipples. “i want my cowboy now.”

he grinned, rolling his eyes playfully. 

“then take him.” 

you didn’t need to be told twice.

you sank down slowly at first—teasing the head along your folds, coating, moving your hips and drawing it out until his hands gripped your hips. silent warning to not tease him—he ain’t the strongest soldier here.

you giggled softly before taking him in one smooth drop, all the way to the hilt.

“ngh—!” the stretch burned perfectly, filling and stretching you up that you both groaned at the same time at the pleasure. your head tipped back slightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. sunghoon was thick, hot, throbbing inside and you felt every inch as you adjusted, walls fluttering around him.

you were pretty, tight, warm—wrapping around him nicely.

“fuck,” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut before he opened them again, watching the lewd expression on your face. “juuust like that… ride me, pretty cowgirl,” 

you began—rolling your hips in deep, lazy circles, grinding down so he hit every spot inside on every pass. your hands braced on his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as you lifted yourself and sank back down.

like a cowgirl—sunghoon let you lead for a while; watching you through half lidded eyes, one hand slipping up to play with your tits, thumb teasing your nipple in the same breath as your movements. the other stayed on your hip, guiding but not controlling. 

he lets you take what you want.

but that only lasted a while.

you started moving faster, riding, hoping (more like a bunny, than a cowgirl)—tits bouncing so lewdly, pitchy little ah, ah ah’s moans escaping your lips. the slap of skin got louder, his cock disappeared as quick as he saw it.

sunghoon couldn’t stay still anymore.

his hips snapped up to meet you halfway, driving deeper, harder, making your cries louder as pleasure spiked suddenly. 

“that’s it,” his voice wrecked, sitting up suddenly so you were chest to chest, his hands on your hips as he lifted you up and down on his cock, pulling you down harder onto every thrust. 

“fuckin’ ride me just like that—use me,”

you clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, moving together in a frantic rhythm. your sweat dripped down on his skin as his did too, sunghoon’s mouth found your neck where he sucked marks into your skin as you clenched tighter. 

“hoonie, hoonie, so good, feels s’good,” you whimpered, holding his hat on your head with one hand, the other wrapped around his neck.

“come on,” he chuckled low and filthy against your throat, your head tipped back. one of his hands palmed your tits, pinching your perky bud. “keep ridin’ me like that. fuck—takin’ my cock so good. you’re made for this ranch—made for me,”

you nodded, his balls slapping the curve of your ass as you go—giggling—just mind fucked over his cock. 

“love it, don’t cha?” he kept going with his filthy talks, breath hot against your skin. “love bouncin’ on a cowboy you just met, creamin’ all over him while your little guy’s waitin’ somewhere,” sunghoon hummed, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder. 

“bet he’s never fucked you this good—never made this pussy cream so many times in one evening.”

you moaned louder, clenching at his voice and words. he grinned against your neck, thrusting up harder to meet you. 

“say it,” he rasped, rolling your nipple slow and mean between his fingerpads. “tell me how good you’re gettin’ it.”

“hoonie—” you whined, walls fluttering wildly. 

“say it,” he coaxed, hands dropping to grip your ass, guiding you faster, deeper. “tell me whose cock you’re gonna be thinkin’ about from now on,”

you were too far gone to care—pleasure coiling tight and how low in your tummy. “yours,” you gasped, hat tilting crooked as you slammed down faster. “only yours—hoonie, fuck—only you, wanna be yours,” 

sunghoon’s cock twitched. “that’s my girl,” he praised, voice dripping sin, hips snapping. “cream this cock again. milk me—let me feel that pretty pussy.”

and with his mouth on your collarbone, fingers twisting your nipple, his thick cock dragging your velvety walls—you came.

your whole body seized—back arching, a broken cry tearing from your throat. another rush of warmth flooded out of you, soaking where you joined, dripping down his length and onto his thighs. the fourth orgasm rolled through you, thighs shaking. 

sunghoon groaned as well, holding you tight but he didn’t follow you over the edge—not yet. the night is still young, after all. his cock throbbed inside, impossibly harder, slick with release, but he gritted his teeth, letting you ride the aftershocks while he stayed buried. 

“hngh—i—hah,” you slumped forward, panting against his chest, hat slipping sideways. sunghoon caught it and settled it back on your head. “came so pretty for me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“but i’m not done with you yet.”

he didn’t give you much time to recover before his arms hooked under your knees and he flipped you onto your back. the air left your lungs as your body bounced lightly on his mattress. “hm—?” 

sunghoon folded you in half, knees pushed to your shoulders, hips tilted up—completely open, bare, exposed, and pinned beneath him in a deep, filthy—

mating press.

the hat finally tumbled off your head and onto the pillow. you barely noticed before sunghoon picked it up and wore it himself.

sunghoon loomed over you, dark hair falling into his eyes, cock still rock–hard and wet as he nudged back inside in a slow thrust. the new angle dragged him deeper than before—stretching you wide, pressing and making your eyes roll back from pleasure. 

“fuck… look at ya,” he chuckled, hips rolling slow to let you feel every thick inch. “takin’ me so deep… pussy made for me, wasn’t it?”

you could only nod and whimper, looking up at him with doe, glassy eyes and swollen lips from clamping down. you looked so fucking feastible like this—body filled with his lovebites, nipples perky and red from pinching, your sweaty and glossy skin—

so perfect.

sunghoon only meant to help a poor stranded girl with her broke down car, he swore—but he supposed ending the day with a girl didn’t sound so bad.

he began moving—long, solid hard strokes that punched the air from your lungs each time he pulled up. the position left you no room to move, no escape from the overwhelming fullness, every thrust driving him against your g–spot. 

sweat dripped down from his brow onto your chest—sunghoon crashed his lips against yours in open mouthed kisses with tongue involved. “tell me again,” he snapped his hips to draw a cry out of you. “who’s makin’ you feel this good?”

“you—hoonie, only you—,” the words slipped out rushly. sunghoon chuckled, the headboard knocked against the wall from the way your folded body rocked with every thrust, breasts bouncing. sunghoon gripped the backs of your thighs to keep you spread wide and pinned.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he rasped, eyes locked on where you joined—his cock disappeared inside you over and over. “everytime you close your eyes, you’re g’nna remember how deep i got, how hard i fucked you, how many times i made this tight pussy come.”

your heart thumped, tummy’s doing cartwheels at his words. “yes! please, please, please—’m cumming!” you gasped, back arching as you dragged your nails down his shoulders. sunghoon’s relentless thrusts hitting your soft spot without mercy. 

the coil snapped again—you came with a cry of his name, walls clamping down around him in tight, waves, another nth gush of warmth soaking you both as you whole body shook helplessly in his hold.

“fuck,” sunghoon cursed filthy, fucking you turned erratic as he chased his own high. a few more deep, brutal strokes and burying himself to the hilt—sunghoon spilled inside of you, pulsing hot and endless streaks of semen, hips jerking through every wave. 

he held your hips up, milking himself dry as your pussy spasmed around him, squeezing every last drop. “shit… shit…” he panted, staying pressed for a long moment as he lazily thrusted his cum inside.

both of you panted, trembling, sweat slick, and spent. your body twitched in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you catch your breath. slowly, carefully, sunghoon eased your legs down, letting them fall open around his hips as he pulled his cock out.

cum dribbled down your puffy, swollen cunt, messy—sliding down your folds and onto his sheets beneath you. more followed as your body slumped down.

sunghoon’s gaze dropped between your legs before back on your face—his hand gently stroking your thigh like he couldn’t stop touching you. his cowboy hat tilted crookedly on his head, casting a shadow over his eyes as he fixed it. 

you whimpered—too sensitive and overstimulated—but didn’t pry him off when he pushed his cum lazily inside just to watch you shiver. finally, sunghoon leaned down, lips brushing to exhaustedly kiss you—your lips, cheeks, and temple.

“you okay, darlin’?” he murmured, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest as he rolled to the side. sunghoon tucked you against him, tangling your legs together. 

you nodded into his neck, fingers tracing idly. “more than okay.” you murmured, “never been better.” sunghoon huffed a hum, kissing the top of your head. 

“good,” he said simply, voice low in the dim room. “‘cause car’s definitely ain’t gettin’ fixed anytime soon,” he murmured, pulling the blanket to cover the two of you. “means ‘m keepin’ you here till mornin’. maybe longer.”

the last of the daylight had faded into deep twilight.

oh well—

your… ex boyfriend waiting somewhere could sit tight and wonder all he wanted; his plans had been bucked off the trail the moment the real cowboy rode in. 

this filly had found her herd, and she wasn’t wandering back to any old pasture soon.

you supposed some breakdowns are just detours to exactly where you’re meant to end up.

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ♡໒꒱.°⑅ @yenienha @hoonsocks @imnotyizhuo @nesquikluvr @hhoneyhan @jjongsies @s3ouln1 @hiddencavernsun @stellargolden @astelunar @somuchdard @eirlyscloud @slu33yblushlace @solonenova @jinsuus <3

jay is the steady one, he carries himself like someone who’s always been slightly ahead of the rest of the world. jay is the person who remembers your weird food order and sends you memes at two a.m. when you’re stressed. jay is the friend who will shove half your suitcase into his bag because you insist on carrying everything. he’s been there since backyard forts and playground vows. he’s the one with a measured laugh that comes late and soft, with hands that are always busy — checking a schedule, fixing the strap on your backpack, reaching for the jar of coffee without thinking. he is both impossibly steady and wildly impulsive. best friends since childhood, he knows which part of your pizza you always give up and can read the exact tone in your voice that means you need him without you having to say a word. he knows you in a way most people never will.

you’ve been planning this weekend for weeks: two nights away from the city, a small coastal town with a hotel that promises sea views and soft linen. the trip is a way for you to “decompress,” though you both know it’s a selfish excuse to spend some time with the person you adore the most. you both need the quiet; you both crave the plainness of two people who can be entirely themselves without the rest of the world.

you meet at jay’s apartment early on saturday. he’s already waiting by the door in an old band tee and jeans, hair messed up like he’s been up later than normal. when you walk in, he grins. “ready for an escape?” he asks, voice half-joke, half-relief.

“always,” you say, dropping your bag and grabbing the travel mug he hands you. it’s still warm. you both stand in the doorway for a second, jay nudges your shoulder. “let’s go get some fresh air.”

the drive there is effortless because he makes it so. windows down, music up. jay is a playlist master: he builds the soundtrack like he’s building the mood. his selections are small treasures — an old ballad you loved in high school, a song that you used to hum after an exam, a track you two once danced to in the kitchen at two in the morning. he sings along with the music, fingers drumming the steering wheel, and you watch the way sunlight lines his jaw when he smiles at a lyric. conversation is a steady stream of anecdotes, inside jokes, and comfortable silences where no one feels the need to fill the space.

“remember when we tried to build that tree fort?” jay asks, voice soft with the kind of fondness that makes the corners of your eyes crinkle.

“the one we almost set on fire?” you remind him, though the memory is fuzzy and ridiculous. you both laugh like it’s a secret you’ve shared too many times.

“i’ve got a vivid memory of my dad panicking and running when he saw you trying to light the lighter,” jay says, and you snort, pushing your hair back with a hand.

“you were the one who suggested setting the leaves on fire!” you point out.

“that’s because you were the one who suggested having a fireplace!” he retorts.

“nuh-uh, i was the architect. you were the disaster specialist.”

he grins, eyes warm. “okay, i’ll accept that title. disaster specialist. it fits.”

by the time the coastline unfurls, the town greets you with warm light and a salty breeze that makes your scalp tingle.

the plan is simple: wander, eat, and do nothing you would normally schedule. the first stop is a small café with mismatched chairs and a chalkboard menu. you both order the same thing without planning it. “of course we did,” jay says when the server walks away. “we’re synced.”

you sit, and conversation moves between silly and comfortable. you talk about the dumb things you did in school, the band practices that always ended in pizza, the way jay once tried to convince you that he could beatbox. you both laugh until your stomachs ache. “you sounded like a dying walrus,” you say, wincing with the memory.

“i was talented,” jay protests, mock-hurt. “and you never appreciated artistry.”

“i did appreciate it,” you lie, smiling. the truth is, you appreciated everything about him — the way he told stories, how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the soft way he checked if you were okay.

after coffee, you wander down the pier together. the sea stretches into a steady horizon, glittering under the afternoon sun; warmth settles on the back of your neck and the breeze smells like salt and summer. jay walks just half a step ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, until something catches his eye: a seagull swoops down, triumphant, clutching someone’s sandwich in its beak.

“i wonder what that reminds me of…” he says, voice dripping with mischief.

you glare at him, already knowing where this is going. “don’t.”

he smirks. “jay—”

“i’m just saying, it’s impressive. most people only get their sandwich stolen once.”

you elbow him sharply. “i was six, and you were the one supposedly taking care of my food, you moron!”

he laughs, the sound bright and familiar, and nudges a puddle with his shoe. a thin arc of water sprays your jeans

“jay!” you yelp.

he shrugs innocently. “oops.”

you flick water back at him with your fingers — which, somehow, only splashes your own shoes. he bursts out laughing.

“that was the saddest attempt i’ve ever—”

before he can finish, you launch a real attack: kicking at the puddle with enough force to send a wave toward him. he dodges, still laughing, and you chase him down the pier, both of you splashing like children who’ve never grown up. your laughter mixes with the cries of gulls and the hush of the sea. it feels stupid and perfect.

when you finally slow down, breathless and damp, you notice a couple of people walking by — older, maybe tourists — who glance at the two of you and smile. one of them nudges the other, and there’s a tiny, knowing look passed between them. the kind of look people give when they see two people who clearly adore each other, even if neither of them is saying it out loud yet. jay notices, too. he tilts his head towards them, then towards you.

“what was that about?” he asks, light but curious.

you shrug, suddenly aware of how close he’s standing, his shoulder brushing yours.

“no idea,” you say — though your heart knows exactly.

after your clothes have been dried by the sun, you stop at a surf shack and decide to try the foam boards. “how hard can it be?” jay asks, grinning. he’s confident, and you know that sometimes his body can do the things his voice promises. the sea is cold but the sun makes up for it. you fall more than you stand, both of you laughing at each other’s ungraceful attempts. when you finally ride a small, sloppy wave, it feels like a victory. as the sun starts to lower, you both sit on a towel and watch the light go gold. jay tells a story about being lost when he was a kid — how he ended up in an ice cream truck because he followed the smell.

you tell him about a karaoke night with your friends which ended in a sore throat the next morning. jay watches your face as you talk like he’s memorizing it. when he tells his story, you see him soften in a way that surprises you: his voice drops, and his hands move in wide, careful circles as if tracing a figure on the sand.

dinner is small and warm. fairy lights hang low. you split a plate and an extra dessert because jay insists. “there’s always room for more dessert,” he says like it’s a moral code he follows strictly. you eat and joke and the conversation turns to the stuff that matters in tiny ways — your worries, the internships you both consider, the small fears.

the drive to the hotel is quiet in a comfortable way, you both feel tired in the best kind of way.

the hotel is a low building with whitewashed walls and a small, flourishing garden. it smells like lemon and seawater at the door, and for a beat you feel like you’ve stepped into a postcard. jay parks in a spot that has been gloriously unclaimed, and you step out together, shoulder to shoulder — the sort of unspoken choreography that makes you both laugh at how simple it feels.

the hotel lobby is cozy: wood floors, an old chandelier, and the receptionist offers a smile that’s almost too sincere. you move like one unit — jay on your left, his hand occasionally brushing the small of your back when the pavement dents or the door takes a gust of wind.

“welcome,” the receptionist says, handing you a key each. the keys are small metal things on old-fashioned loops. jay takes both and jokes about keeping them safe like they’re tiny treasures. the check-in goes smoothly. there’s a mild disappointment in the clerk’s face when he says over the computer, “we have you down for a double room… oh.” the clerk’s face changes. “i’m so sorry,” he says, scrolling. “there was a booking error. and— um—”

your stomach does a small, reflexive flip. “what kind of error?” you ask.

“the hotel is overbooked tonight. it looks like someone else booked your room — the double room with twin beds,” he explains, apologetic. “i’m so sorry. we can bump you up to a suite tomorrow, no costs, but tonight… we only have one room available. a standard double with one bed. it’s most likely a mistake on our end, but i can offer a complimentary breakfast, free minibar and a late checkout to make up for it.”

for a second, the news feels like a comic misstep. you both stand there blinking like two people on a sitcom. “one bed?” you repeat, because the idea is ridiculous and, somehow, makes your pulse skip.

you and jay exchange a glance so practiced it feels like a private joke handed down through years. jay’s brow arches, eyes searching your face as if to see how you’ll react. there’s a moment where you both silently consider demanding a refund and stomping out, but the tiredness in your limbs argues for a place to rest. you’ve come for quiet, and a little awkward intimacy in a single bed is still better than having to drive to the closest hotel possible.

jay rubs his forehead, then shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “we can share,” he says, the kind of simple solution he’s always offered when things go sideways.

“or i can sleep on the floor,” you offer, half-joke, half-serious. “i have a flexible spine.” he laughs.

“no way. we’re grown-ups. we’ll share.” his voice is steady. you feel easier because he always makes the small panic smaller.

“we’ll take it,” jay says finally, his voice steady. “one room. one bed. seems… cozy.”

the receptionist’s smile brightens like the problem is solved. you both pay the fee for the two nights and grab your keys. the elevator ride up is bright with awkward jokes. jay jokes about who will get which side of the bed, about knee territory.

“i get the window side,” you say, claiming it like a prize.

“fine, i get the remote,” he counters. “and the top sheet.”

the room is not big, but it is simple and kind, a wide window faces the ocean. the bed looks smaller than in the picture, white sheets tucked into a neat fold, but it still takes up most part of the room. there’s a vase with fresh flowers on the bedside table and a note from management, apologizing for the mix-up. there’s a soft hum in the air-conditioning, and the town’s urgency feels miles away.

you both make rituals out of mundane things: tossing your bags in a corner, ordering two glasses of iced water and a plate of fries to share. jay takes the window seat, tucking his feet under him and watching the waves. you sit on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and the two of you settle into the unpretentious ease that’s defined your friendship for years.

“should we go out after this?” you ask after a while. “walk the beach near here? grab some snacks for later?”

jay glances at you and then the bed, a tiny smirk threatening mischief. “or,” he says slowly, “we could stay here, watch that awful romcom on the hotel channel, and eat these fries until our stomachs hurt.”

you groan, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “eat fries until our stomachs hurt… what are we, twelve?”

you spend the late afternoon (after eating the whole plate of fries, that is) wandering the coastal streets: an old bookshop tucked between a fishmonger and a café, a little stall selling the most amazing scented candles, an ice cream place where jay insists you try a flavor called sea-salt caramel that you didn’t believe would be good but turns out to be divine. you throw yourself into the city’s rhythm — quiet markets, low-slung houses with wind-bent palms, the tang of salt on your lips. the sun slants golden and the ocean is a constant mood, a low storyboard of waves that outlines your day.

when evening comes, you head to a local bistro and order some plates to share. the conversation is easy, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes teasing. you revisit old embarrassments as though they are moments you both cherish, and you discover new quick truths: jay’s soft spot for an old childhood teacher, how he still hums that ridiculous jingle he used to perform for neighborhood kids, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles like he’s remembering something sweet. you find yourself leaning in more than usual, drawn to small gestures that have always been there but suddenly feel more luminous.

“do you ever think about how different things would be if we hadn’t been stuck living two houses apart?” you ask, swirling the rim of your glass.

jay pauses, lifting his fork like he’s considering the question as carefully as a strategic play. “no,” he says eventually. “maybe it would be different. but i like the way we’ve been pegged to each other — like a pair of constant variables. you know?”

you do. you know because jay has been constant in your calculus of life — the equation that solved itself with him in it. “i like it too,” you say, and mean it.

back at the hotel, the night unfurls with small rituals. you brush your teeth in the bathroom together because it feels like something you’ve always done, even though it’s oddly intimate, and you both laugh when a toothbrush falls and clatters. you change into pajamas in the same room, without looking at each other. it’s no big deal, because there’s years of trust there.

after closing the balcony’s door, you come back to the room while jay reads aloud the silly poem that was printed on the hotel pamphlet, turning it into a mock-serious performance.

“i have the perfect plan for tomorrow’s night,” he announces in a dramatic whisper, making you snort. “we conquer the buffet and then we empty the mini bar which, by the way, is free because of the hotel room thing.”

“incredible strategy, commander,” you mumble, tossing a pillow at him.

when you crawl into bed, the mattress feels even smaller than you thought. you both lie down on your backs, the covers tucked and your knees up. the hotel window shows the sliver moon and a smear of town lights. you don’t turn off the lamps because it feels like the night wants to be watched.

“i can feel it already… destiny. fate. the universe preparing to kick us with food poisoning from the buffet and—”

“what are you doing?” you ask, and he just grins.

“i’m narrating our lives. also, i never get to be dramatic out loud with anyone except you.”

the warmth in your chest is a gentle pressure.

you settle closer, legs tangling accidentally, and the bed feels too familiar and too intimate at once. there’s nothing sudden or electric in that moment — just the friendly gravity that has always existed between you two, the small ease that comes from a thousand shared food, errands and late-night confessions.

the distance closes so naturally you barely register it. one moment you’re side by side, and the next his foot nudges yours, a small accidental press that sends a quiet ripple through your chest. he doesn’t joke like he usually does. he just looks at you for a second — too long, too gentle — before glancing back at the ceiling. then, jay shifts, trying to get comfortable, and ends up knocking your knee.

“sorry,” he says softly — then adds, “but also… it’s your fault for having knees.” you snort, but you don’t move away. neither does he.

jay reaches for the remote, tapping your ankle with it. “okay,” he announces, “since your knees started this war, i get to pick the movie.”

“that’s not how this works,” you mutter, but you’re already smiling.

he scrolls until he finds a romcom with a 23% rating and a poster that looks like it was made in microsoft paint.

“perfect,” he declares.

“that looks terrible.”

“exactly, a cinematic masterpiece.”

he presses play, and the two of you settle closer, shoulders brushing as the opening credits flash like a warning.

later, long after the film fades and the television hums low, you find yourselves wide awake.

it’s the kind of quiet that makes every sound amplified; the ticking clock sounds like an orchestra. the ocean mutters in the background; a faint glow from the street below paints the curtains silver. you lie on opposite sides at first, an unconscious measure of space between your shoulders, but there’s something in the air that nudges at the perimeter.

you start with small talk — funny comments about the hotel’s art, the exact color of the blanket, how the protagonist of the last movie was an idiot — and then sink into quieter conversation. then you talk about work, about the small mistakes and the things that made you proud that day. the conversation is slow and easy. you nudge his knee with your foot and he squeezes your ankle in return, not even looking at you. the small touches are normal for you; they mean nothing more than warmth in the moment, but they make your heart skip a beat.

after a while the talk goes softer. jay says, “i’m glad we did this.” you answer, “me too.” he turns his head to look at you, face lit by the moonlight and softer than you remember in normal days.

“i don’t like being away from all of this,” he says, voice quiet. “i mean, from home, from my friends, from my family… from you.”

you feel a little jolt. “from me?” you ask, trying to make your voice casual.

“yeah. it’s weird,” he says, fingers tracing an absent path on the sheet. “i just… i like this. being with you like this. no pretending. no schedules. just us two.”

“i feel the same,” you say, and you mean it.

the room hums. you reach for his hand; your fingers fit his the way they always have. his grip tightens, then loosens, like he’s deciding how much to say. the closeness is comfortable and also suddenly sharper. you both stay awake, talking in half sentences, the kind of talk that means more than the words.

“do you ever think about how long it’s been?” jay asks suddenly, voice soft, not a joke this time.

“how long it’s been… since what?” you reply, turning your head to look at him.

“us,” he says. “you and me. the whole best friends thing. like… how long we’ve had each other.” there’s a hitch at the edge of his voice that makes you sit up a little.

he looks smaller now, exposed in the low glow of the lamp. your heart tugs at the rawness of the moment — the way time has folded you into adjacent lives.

“since kids,” you say, because the answer comes easily. “since we were both too young to know better. you were the one who taught me how to ride a bike after four tries and three scraped knees.”

he laughs then, because he remembers the bandages awkwardly wrapped on your knees.

“and you were the one who hid my vintage baseball cap because you thought it was stupid,” he reminds you, teasing but tender.

you roll your eyes. “it was stupid.”

“so was my hair, that’s why i wanted to hide it,” he says, and you both grin at the shared memory before a comfortable silence settles.

then, like an accidental gradual pull, his hand finds yours again. it’s easy and familiar: fingers slipping into those well-known places, a reflex that has always belonged only to you two. tonight, though, the touch feels charged, like it’s more meaningful than ever. for a second your fingers intertwine, and you turn to look at him fully, as if the light will reveal new shapes.

you tell him a small thing you’ve been holding for a while — how you worry about moving forward and losing pieces of your life that felt safe. he listens and then says, simply, “we’ll keep the important parts. we’ll keep the parts that matter. you’ll never lose me. ever.” his voice is calm but there’s an undercurrent of something else — care that feels weightier than usual.

the mood shifts in little ways. when you laugh, his look lingers. when you reach for the blanket and he helps you pull it, his hand covers yours a fraction longer than it needs to. you both notice but don’t comment. the night tightens from easy to intimate in a way that feels new. you lie facing each other now, closer than when you first got in bed. your shoulders almost touch. the two of you lie close enough that, if you wanted, you could trace the outline of his face with your thumb.

“remember when we used to stay up making forts?” you ask, voice small, half-trying to be playful.

“i remember you stealing my flashlight and refusing to share,” jay replies. he smiles, then grows quiet. his hand caresses yours under the cover, fingers warm around yours, his thumb drawing little circles that slow your breathing. “i like being near you,” he says again, but this time the words sound like a confession instead of a casual note. they hang between you, bright and risky.

you can feel your heart speed up. you look at him, really look — at the line of his jaw, the way his eyelashes shadow his cheek, the little scar on his nose.

the hotel room is full of the sound of quiet breathing. the air between you is different now — thiner, charged. you squeeze his hand back and the touch feels like a dare. the shift is gentle but certain: you both feel it, like the tide turning under the shore. you don’t fall asleep, neither of you do. you stay awake with your hands intertwined. what you’ve said is not yet the confession you both are afraid and eager to say, but it’s close enough. so much that the space between your faces feels like a wall you’re both willing to break.

“you’re quiet,” you murmur.

“i’m thinking,” he replies, looking at the ceiling as if the words are hiding up there. “about how different everything would be if i didn’t approach you that day at your porch, if we treated each other like strangers.” he turns his head slightly to meet your eyes. “but we’re not strangers, are we?”

you shake your head. “no. we’re… us.”

“us,” he says, saying the word like it’s a small, sacred thing. jay props himself up on an elbow, the lamp throwing shadows that make his face more serious than you usually see it. “i think i used to think that best friends were supposed to be… a constant. like okay, safe, habitual. and that was enough. but lately—” he pauses, fingers trailing idle patterns on the bedsheet. “lately i can’t tell whether what i feel is just familiarity or something else. something that makes me… not okay with you being with anyone else.”

the sentence drops, and your chest tightens in a way that spins your stomach. you liked to guess that, in small private moments, maybe jay felt things he didn’t say — the same things you felt — but he’s never voiced it like this. the admission is raw and honeyed at the same time.

“do you want to say it?” he asks suddenly, voice so soft it could be mistaken for sleep talking. he’s facing you now, eyes open and honest, the moonlight in the window making his skin look paler and a little electric.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “say what?” you ask, though you already know.

“you know what it is... that,” he says, and his mouth quirks — nervous, silly, resigned. “that thing between us. that i’m tired of pretending doesn’t exist.” he swallows. “i’m tired of pretending i don’t think about you like that.”

your heart stutters. you feel it as a physical thing, as if someone has flicked a switch and warmth is flooding the room. you laugh, a small, incredulous sound that shakes with relief.

“you mean…” you begin, voice small.

“i mean,” he cuts in, not harshly but with a gravity that lands heavy, “i think i like you. more than a friend. and it’s been creeping up on me, and i don’t know when it started exactly, but i know when i notice it now. and it terrifies me because you’re my person. and the idea of losing you to… anything else makes my chest hurt in a way i don’t like.”

“you’re serious.”

“i’m extremely serious. i wouldn’t joke about this.” jay’s hand tightens around yours. “i—i’ve been stupid about it. scared, i guess. scared of what it would do to us. but i can’t keep pretending that i don’t care in a different way.” he breathes, “i like you. like-like you. more than best-friend-like.”

you stare at him for a second — at the honest way his lips tremble when he says the words — and your throat goes dry. the air between you tilts. your heart beats so fast you’re sure he can hear it; a dozen little memories — of his hand brushing yours, of the way he looked at you after your high school show, of how he'd walk you home after parties, of the way he always lent you his jacket — assemble into a shape that suddenly seems obvious. your fingers are limp in the space where his had been; you reach for them without thinking, and his hand closes around yours like a soft, heavy promise.

“i was so sure,” you say finally, and your voice is barely more than a rustle against the linens. “i was sure i was the one being an idiot. that it was only me who wanted more and—” you stop because the words begin to rearrange themselves into something urgent. you inhale, collecting courage. “jay i… i feel the same.”

jay’s shoulders deflate, a laugh escaping him that’s half disbelief and half joy. his face is a map of every possible emotion at once: relief that blooms into disbelief, then something tender and almost shy, like embarrassment and happiness braided together. he swallows audibly, then slides off the edge of the bed to sit beside you, thumb brushing your knuckles in a motion so slow it could be prayer.

“you do?” he asks, voice cracking. “you like me too?”

“i do,” you confirm, before you can overthink it. “i’ve wanted this — wanted you — for a while. and i’ve been trying to tell myself i was imagining things. i kept thinking if i said it out loud everything would change, and i was scared.” your voice thins and then steadies. “but i’m tired of being scared.” you let out a breath, laugh-crying a little. “i’m tired of pretending it hasn’t been you for ages.”

he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek, and the gesture is tender and sudden. “hey, don’t be scared,” he whispers. “i don’t want to lose us either. but i don’t want to ignore this.”

“so… what do we do?” you whisper, the question monumental in the small room.

your faces are inches apart; you can almost count the soft baby hairs at his temple.

“we start,” he says, and the word feels like a vow. “we try, slowly, brick by brick, step by step. we don’t have to figure out the rest tonight.” you nod, slow and certain.

after seconds of silence, you finally break it.

“i want to,” you echo.

jay opens his mouth, then closes it. “are you sure?” you nod. “you know if we cross this line it’s going to be very hard to—”

“jay,” you stop him, looking into his eyes. “just kiss me already”

and then, in a moment that feels both like a cliff and landing, jay leans in. his lips find yours with a tenderness you’d only imagined in stolen movie scenes. it’s tentative at first — warm, probing — as if he’s afraid to wake something delicate, and you know he’s trying to be gentle because the moment matters. but the kiss soon deepens, becomes a conversation in itself. your hands find the familiar places — the little dip behind his ear, the nape of his neck — and he responds by threading his fingers through your hair, steadying himself against the newness of the feeling.

the world outside the window hums as if nothing at all has changed, but everything has. when he pulls back for air, his forehead rests against yours and both of you are breathless, eyes bright and shaking. you both pull back with nervous smiles that turn into laughter because everything feels suddenly lighter and impossibly good.

“god, i can’t believe we’re actually doing this, can you?” jay laughs, looking into your eyes.

you answer by kissing him deeper. this time there’s less carefulness and more hunger — years of small touches and bedside talks turning into something braver. your mouth opens under his, and the world narrows to the taste of him. you feel his breath hitch, a small sound that is part shock, part sweetness.

his hands are not tentative anymore. they travel down your sides, find the curve of your waist, pull you flush against him. you can feel the line of his ribs under the shirt, the steady beat of his heart, a drum that matches yours. he mumbles against your mouth, “i like you. so much. it’s stupid. it’s everything.”

“i love you,” you say before you can stop yourself — your words tumbling out in the dark and landing between you. you don’t take them back. you mean them; the truth feels heavy and right.

jay freezes for the tiniest second, disbelief and joy warring on his face. then he smiles like he’s been given a map to something he’s been searching for without knowing. “god, i love you, i love you too,” he says, and his voice is near-breaking. he says it again, this time firmer, like anchoring himself. “i’ve loved you for ages.”

you both breathe, the confession settling like a warm blanket. then the awkward, perfect, dangerous part: you both laugh because you’re unbelievably relieved and because it feels ridiculous to be this dramatic about words you should have said way sooner.

“so,” jay says, cheek pressed to yours, “now what?”

“now,” you answer, “we stop pretending we don’t want each other?” you murmur, tracing small, teasing, nervous circles on his chest with your fingertip, savoring the steady heat under your skin.

jay chuckles, shaking his head. “you’re impossible.” the he licks his lips, leaning against your ear. “but i wouldn’t have you any other way.”

he kisses your temple, then drags his mouth down your neck in slow, tender strokes that make you shiver. “is it okay if i show you how much i’ve wanted this, then?” he asks, the question gentler than the rest. you nod. “let me make this easy for you,” he murmurs, voice huskier now.

he slides his hand down to the small of your back and pulls you flush against him. the contact is immediate, grounding. his mouth finds yours again, deeper this time — hungry but still careful, wanting to memorize your reactions. you kiss him back with the same mix of desperation and care.

you can feel the change move through you like heat. jay’s hands are not shy; they explore your curves as if they’ve been waiting for permission. you hook your legs around him, instinctively, and the motion brings you both closer. the covers rustle; the room shrinks to the two of you. you laugh breathlessly against his lips. “we’re idiots,” you whisper.

“big idiots,” he replies, smiling into the kiss, then his voice drops. “i’ve wanted you for so long.” he breaks the kiss just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours.

the room condenses to the sound of your breaths and the soft rustle of the covers. the lamps throw a golden halo around you both, and the world outside the window recedes into a wash of distant traffic and the ocean’s hush. his hand slides up your side, careful, asking permission with the lightest pressure; you answer by angling your hip toward him. the motion is tiny, but it says everything you couldn’t say with words.

he keeps talking when he kisses you — low reassurances, little jokes that make you hiccup-laugh between soft, searching kisses. “i could do this forever,” he murmurs against your throat. “i will be very annoying and very attentive. is that okay?” you nod, because yes, yes, yes. your voice would betray you if you tried to say anything else.

suddenly, the room grows even hotter. he begins with soft worship — hands mapping your shoulders, the line of your collarbone, the dip of your neck. his mouth follows, leaving kisses that turn into gentle suckles, slow and intimate. every little noise he makes — soft groans, the way his breath catches — makes your pulse quicken.

as his kisses travel further, his hands move with purpose. he peels your shirt up slowly, as if practiced, just as if he was a man who had been rehearsing this exact scene in his head a hundred times. you help as he pauses to kiss the skin he reveals, fingers fumbling at the hem because you want him close, you want nothing between you. the fabric slips away and leaves you bare to the cool air and his eyes.

jay drinks in the sight quietly like it’s the first time he’s seeing you. “you’re beautiful,” he whispers, cheeks flushed and voice thick. it’s clumsy and perfect. “i mean it.”

you feel heat bloom in your chest. “you too,” you breathe. “you’re so, so beautiful.”

his hands find your waist again, pulling you until your bodies are flush. he kisses your throat, then your collarbone, lingering at points that make your back arch. his lips are everywhere, each kiss slow and worshipful. when his hand finds your breast, he cups it like it’s fragile, thumbs rolling your nipple with gentle, exploratory pressure. you gasp.

“you’re so perfect, baby,” he breathes, voice raw. when he finally takes a nipple into his mouth, it’s like a small electric shock — sharp and delicious. he sucks with a mix of need and adoration that makes your knees weak. you moan, which makes him hum against your breast, pleased and needy.

“do you want me to stop?” he murmurs against your skin, suddenly cautious.

“no,” you say, breathless. “jay, please, don’t stop.”

encouraged, jay’s mouth moves lower, trailing to the curve of your ribs, the slope of your belly. his hands keep you steady, one at the small of your back, the other sliding between you to trace the line of your hip. he breathes around your navel and then looks up at you, eyes dark with want. “are you sure? i don’t want to rush anything you’re not ready for.” he asks again, though the question is almost theatrical now, given the way your both lusting for each other.

you respond with your own hands, sliding up the back of his pajama shirt, feeling the tension of his muscles. “i’m sure. i want you. i’ve imagined this so many times,” you confess. “i want you so much, jay. i need you so much it hurts.” the confession is private, painful, but liberating to say.

he smiles like someone who finally got permission for something he’s been dreaming of. he answers by settling between your legs, careful as if you might break, but his eyes are bright and fierce with want. you can’t help but moan at the sight of your best friend licking his lip, so eager for your body, for you. “then… should i go on? i’m dying to taste you,” he says, voice low and breathy. you answer by nodding. “words, pretty girl, i need words.” he chuckles, caressing your skin.

you swallow, your throat caught between letting out a laugh or a sob of desperation. “god, jay, yes, please,” you groan, certain. your fingers tighten in the sheet, not out of fear but because you need something to steady you — something that isn’t him for a second, until your breath evens out and you remember how safe his hands always feel.

his hands keep hold of your hips, thumbs pressed into the skin. then his mouth is right there, a kiss low on your belly, slow and adoring, and when his tongue finally slips out it’s like heat and velvet at once. he starts at the curve beneath your ribs, lapping a smooth line down towards your center. the first touch makes you jerk, breath hitching; he hums against you, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, pleased and hungry.

“fuck.” he groans, closing his eyes. and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

he doesn’t rush. that’s the first thing you notice, really notice, while your pulse is hammering against your ribs and the room feels too small for all the air you suddenly need. jay stays on his knees at the edge of the bed, palms sliding slow up the backs of your thighs like he has all the time in the world. his eyes flick up to yours, soft and dark and a little wrecked, and he smiles, small, reverent.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, thumb stroking the crease where your leg meets your hip. “i’ve got you, okay? we can slow down.”

you shake your head before the words even form. “don’t you dare.”

he laughs, quiet, the sound warm against your skin. “okay. okay, baby.”

then he lowers his mouth and kisses you there, once, gentle, right over the cotton of your underwear, like he’s saying hello to something sacred. the second kiss is open-mouthed, hotter, and you feel the heat of his breath soak through the fabric. your hips jerk without permission as a moan escapes your throat.

he hooks his fingers in the waistband and drags the last scrap of clothing down your legs, slow enough that you feel every inch of air replacing it. when you’re bare, he just looks for a long second, eyes glassy, lips parted, like he’s trying to memorize you.

“baby,” he says, reverent. “look at you. you’re so fucking pretty i can’t think straight. god,” he breathes. “you’re so pretty. how are you this pretty everywhere?”

you try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. he kisses the inside of your knee, then higher, open-mouthed and lazy, like he’s tasting dessert he’s waited years for. every press of his lips is paired with a new praise whispered against your skin.

“so soft… you taste so good already. i’ve been dreaming about this for so long.”

the praise lands warm in your chest. he lowers himself between your thighs. his palms slide under you, lifting you gently toward his mouth like an offering.

the first touch of his tongue is soft, just a slow, flat lick from entrance to clit that makes your hips jerk, your back arch clean off the mattress. he groans like you’ve hurt him, arms banding under your thighs to hold you open.

“fuck, there it is,” he says, voice rough with wonder. “that’s my girl.”

he licks again, deeper this time, parting you with the tip of his tongue, tasting you like he’s starved. when he circles your clit, gentle, lazy circles, your breath catches so hard it sounds like a sob. he pulls back just enough to speak.

“you taste so good, sweetheart. i've been dreaming about this. been dying to know what you sound like when you let go for me.”

he settles in like it’s his life’s work. tongue flat and broad at first, just feeling you, learning every twitch and sigh. then he narrows it, circles your clit once, twice, light enough to make you crazy. you thread fingers into his hair and he hums approval, the vibration rolling straight through you.

“don’t be shy, pull harder,” he says against you. “i want to feel you.”

you do. he rewards you by sliding one finger inside, slow, eyes locked on your face to watch every flicker. when you clench around him he curses softly, adds a second, curls them just right.

“perfect,” he whispers. “so perfect for me. you always were.”

he seals his mouth over you and sucks, soft at first, then harder when your fingers fist in his hair. every time you tug, he groans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. his tongue dips inside you, slow thrusts that match the roll of his thumb over your clit, and the room fills with the wet sounds of him devouring you.

“jay,” you whimper, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

“i know, baby,” he soothes, voice muffled. “i know. just let me take care of you.”

the way he curls his fingers, slow and perfect, stroking the exact spot, makes your back arch clean off the bed. his mouth never leaves your clit, licking, sucking, fluttering, sucking again until your legs try to close on instinct. he just gentles them open with his shoulders, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“stay open for me, love. wanna see all of you. wanna watch you fall apart on my tongue.”

he finds a rhythm that makes your thighs start to tremble, mouth relentless, fingers steady and deep. every time you get close he backs off just enough to keep you teetering, kissing your clit like an apology before he starts again. you’re babbling his name, pleas, broken little sounds you didn’t know you could make.

“jay, please, i’m so close i can’t—”

“i know, baby, i know. let me take care of you. you deserve it, you deserve everything.”

he sucks your clit gently, crooking his fingers at the same time, and the orgasm rolls over you slow and huge, like a wave that starts at your toes and crashes behind your eyes. you cry out, hips grinding against his face, and he works you through it, soft licks and praises the whole time.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he mumbles, kissing your thighs. “my beautiful girl, i love watching you fall apart.”

when you finally fall against the pillows, he crawls up your body, kissing every inch he passes, until he’s hovering over you, mouth shiny, eyes dazed.

“you look so pretty like this,” he whispers, voice cracked open.

you don’t waste another second: you pull him down into a kiss and taste yourself on his tongue. it’s filthy and perfect. he groans into your mouth, hips rolling instinctively against yours.

“i need you,” he says against your lips. “i need to be inside you. can i?” he says it like a prayer, lips brushing yours.

you nod, frantic. “yes. yes, jay, please.”

he pulls back just far enough to reach for the nightstand drawer. his fingers close around the little foil square and you both freeze for half a heartbeat, staring at it like it’s evidence.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across your face even as your cheeks burn.

“wait,” you breathe, propping yourself up on your elbows, hair falling messily over one shoulder. “did you… pack condoms for our little platonic weekend getaway?”

jay’s ears go scarlet. he tries to look dignified and fails completely. “i—”

“be honest,” you tease, poking his chest. “did you stand in the drugstore aisle going “hmm, better grab a three-pack just in case my best friend finally lets me ruin our friendship”?”

he groans, dropping his forehead to your collarbone, but he’s laughing, muffled and embarrassed. “shut up.”

“no, no, i need details.” you tilt his chin up so he has to meet your eyes. “how many scenarios did you run in that pretty head? did you practice this moment in the mirror?”

“i hate you,” he mutters, but he’s grinning so wide the crinckles by their eyes are showing. “i threw them in at the last second, okay? i told myself it was… responsible. like life-jacket thinking. just in case we, i don’t know, got on a boat, got shipwrecked and needed to improvise a water pouch or something.”

you burst out laughing, the sound bright in the quiet room. “a water pouch. smooth, park.”

he hides his face in your neck, voice muffled. “i was delusional and hopeful and terrified all at once. sue me.”

you soften, running your fingers through his hair. “so you’ve been carrying around the possibility of us for months?”

he lifts his head, eyes suddenly serious even while his cheeks are still pink. “years,” he corrects quietly. “i just finally grew a spine tonight.”

the laughter fades into something tender and huge. you cup his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “come here, you optimistic little boy scout.”

he kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s trying to say thank you and sorry and finally all at once.

you take the packet from his unsteady fingers, tear it open with your teeth because you can’t resist the way his breath catches, as much as you can’t stand not touching him another second. when you roll the condom down his length he’s trembling, biting his lip so hard you’re worried he’ll leave marks.

you guide him back to you with both hands on his hips, fingers pressing gentle crescents into his skin. he’s shaking, fine tremors running through his shoulders, his thighs his breath, like every nerve is lit up and waiting for permission. when the blunt head of him nudges against you, he stops. just stops. forehead dropping to yours, noses brushing, sharing the same ragged air.

“tell me again,” he breathes, voice shredded. “please.”

you cup his face, thumb sweeping the sharp line of his cheekbone. “i love you, jay,” you say, clear and steady even though your heart is sprinting. “i want you. i want this. i only ever wanted this with you.”

his eyes flutter shut for a second, like the words are almost too much. when they open again they’re glassy, stunned, impossibly soft.

and because you can’t help yourself, because you need to see him laugh one more time before everything changes forever, you lean up and whisper against his mouth, “for the record… best emergency preparedness ever.”

a broken laugh punches out of him, half sob, half joy. “you’re the worst,” he chokes, but he’s smiling so wide it almost dimples both cheeks.

then the smile fades into something raw, and he pushes in.

slow. god, so slow you feel every single inch like it’s being carved into you. the stretch is perfect, almost too much, and you both exhale shakily when he’s halfway. he pauses again, sweat beading at his temple, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jump, you hear him swear under his breath.

“it’s okay, jay,” you whisper, stroking his back. “i’ve got you too.”

he nods against your forehead and sinks the rest of the way in one smooth, trembling glide until there’s no space left between you. the sound he makes is wrecked, animal, grateful. he bottoms out and just stays there, buried to the hilt, pulsing inside you, breathing like he’s run miles.

“fuck,” he says, voice cracking on the single syllable. “fuck, you feel,” he swallows hard, tries again. “you feel like home. like every place i’ve ever wanted to be.”

your throat closes. you wrap your legs higher around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and the tiny shift in angle makes you both gasp.

“move,” you beg quietly. “please move.”

he does.

long, unhurried strokes that drag over every sensitive spot like he already knows your body by heart. he watches your face the whole time, eyes dark and awed, lips parted. every time he pulls almost all the way out and slides back in he whispers something new against your skin.

“i love you,” he mumbles. “you’re so warm, so perfect… fuck, i can’t believe i get to call you mine.”

you meet him halfway, rolling your hips up, nails raking lightly down his spine. the rhythm builds steady and deep, not fast, never fast, like you have years to make up for and all the time in the world to do it. the headboard taps softly against the wall in a lazy, hypnotic beat that matches the hush of the ocean outside.

he kisses you constantly, messy, open-mouthed, swallowing every sound you make. when he angles his hips just right you see stars; your back arches and he groans like it hurts him how good you feel.

“right there, yeah? you want it there?” he asks, voice hoarse, doing it again, again, and again.

you can’t answer with words, just nod frantically and pull him down for a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue and pure need. sweat gathers where your bodies are pressed together, skin sliding slick and perfect. the room smells like salt and sex and the faint lemon of hotel soap and jay, always jay.

he buries his face in your neck, kissing the skin there, sucking gentle marks. the rhythm stays slow, deep, grinding on every thrust so his pelvis rubs your clit and you see stars. you can feel another orgasm building, softer this time, deeper.

“jay,” you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. “i’m close again.”

“i know,” he breathes, lifting his head to watch you. “i want you to come around me this time. i want to feel you let go while i’m inside you.”

he slips a hand between you, thumb finding your clit with devastating accuracy, and circles once, twice, gentle but relentless. your thighs start to shake against his sides and the orgasm rolls through you like warm honey, endless and shattering. you clench hard around him, crying out his name into his mouth, and the feeling of you coming undone around him finally breaks his control.

he thrusts deep one last time and stays there, hips stuttering, face buried in the damp curve of your neck. you feel him pulse inside you, again and again, each throb matched by a broken whisper of your name like it’s the only word he remembers until he finally spills inside you.

“jay, i love you,” you’re able to whimper. “i love you so much.”

after, he doesn’t pull out right away. he stays inside you, kissing your face, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, until you’re both giggling breathlessly at how tender it all is. his arms are trembling as they hold his weight off your chest, breath sawing in and out against your throat. you stroke his hair, his back, the nape of his neck, anywhere you can reach, until the shaking stops.

when he finally pulls out it’s careful, almost reluctant. eventually he ties off the condom and collapses beside you, pulling you into his chest. your legs tangle automatically. the room smells like sex and salt air and the two of you. he lifts his head. his eyes are a little red, wet at the corners, and he looks so young and stunned and happy it punches the air out of you.

“hi,” he whispers, voice completely shot.

you laugh, watery and wrecked. “hi.”

you end up half on top of him, cheek over his heart, one of his hands splayed possessively across your lower back, the other tangled in your hair. your legs are still intertwined, sticky and perfect.

the room is quiet except for breathing and the far-off shush of waves. moonlight has shifted; silver stripes paint his collarbone, the slope of your shoulder.

after a minute he starts laughing, soft and disbelieving.

“what?” you mumble into his skin.

“i just had sex with my best friend,” he says, like he’s testing the sentence for flaws and finding none. “and it was,” his voice cracks again. “it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you press a kiss over his heart. “same.”

he squeezes you tighter. “we’re gonna be so annoying now.”

“the most annoying,” you agree, smiling against his chest. “oh, and, for the record, i’m not letting you leave this bed until we have to check out.”

“deal.” he tips your chin up, eyes shining.

for a long time you just breathe together. his fingers trace mindless patterns on your back.

“so,” he says finally, voice hoarse and soft, “what do we do now?”

you press your smile into his collarbone. “we date, i guess?”

he huffs a laugh. “yeah. we date. like, officially. you’re my girlfriend.”

the word makes something warm unfurl in your chest. “and you’re my boyfriend.”

“boyfriend,” he repeats, testing it, grinning. “i like that. a lot.”

you prop your chin on his chest to look at him. “people are gonna lose their minds.”

“let them.” he brushes your hair back. “my mom is gonna cry happy tears, and my own dad is gonna threaten to kill me if i hurt you.”

you snort. “he’ll have to get in line behind your grandma.”

jay’s quiet for a second, thumb stroking your cheek. “are you scared?”

you think about it, his thumb stroking your hip.

“a little,” you admit. “but mostly i’m… relieved.”

you turn in his arms so you’re face to face again.

“just so you know... i want mornings,” he says suddenly. “i want to wake up and make your coffee the way you like it, too much sugar, no matter how wrong it is. i want to argue about whose turn it is to do dishes and then make out against the fridge anyway. i want boring tuesday nights on the couch and big stupid anniversary trips and,” his voice cracks a little, “and i want to come home to you for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.”

tears prick your eyes without warning.

“yes,” you whisper. “yes to all of it.”

he kisses you again, slow and sweet, like sealing a vow.

“i’ve been scared for years that one day you’d bring someone home and i’d have to smile and be happy for you while my chest caved in.” jay confesses. “but this is better. this is so much better.”

you kiss the center of his palm. “no more pretending.”

“no more pretending,” he echoes. “i get to hold your hand in public. kiss you when i want. tell everyone you’re mine.”

“possessive you is unexpectedly hot,” you tease.

he rolls you gently so you’re under him again, wrists pinned lightly above your head. “you have no idea.”

you arch up to kiss him, slow and lazy. when you break apart he rests his forehead against yours.

“we’ll take it slow with everyone else,” he says seriously. “we’ll tell our families first. then the group chat can explode. but us... we don’t have to figure everything out tonight. we just keep being us, but now i get to love you out loud.”

your eyes sting a little. “i like the sound of that.”

he kisses the tip of your nose. “good. because i plan on being disgustingly in love with you for a very long time.”

you laugh, watery. “disgustingly in love?”

“oh yeah. i’m talking matching halloween costumes, instagram hard launch in like, a week, writing songs about you… the whole cringe package.”

“i can’t wait.” you smile.

he settles beside you again, pulling the sheet up over both of you. you curl into his side, ear over his heart.

“jay?”

“mhm?”

“i’m really glad the hotel messed up the booking.

he laughs, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “me too, baby. me too.”

you talk until the sky outside starts to pale. about stupid little things — who gets the left side of the bed at home, whether you’ll keep separate toothbrushes at each other’s places or just share, if you’ll tell your friends or let them figure it out when you don’t stop touching each other —, and big things — moving in together one day, maybe in a year, maybe sooner; how you’ll handle fights when they come, because they will; how you’ll protect this new, bright thing between you.

and every time one of you starts to worry, the other kisses it quiet.

at some point you must doze off, because you wake to jay pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, whispering, “morning, girlfriend.”

you smile into the pillow. “morning, boyfriend.

outside, the waves keep rolling in, steady and sure, just like the two of you now, finally on the same page.

© jongst4r, 2025

the music hums low through your apartment, laughter spilling from everywhere you look. there’s half-eaten cake on the counter, confetti in the carpet, and a trail of wrapping paper leading straight to minho, who’s sitting on the couch, eyes crinkling as he laughs at something changbin just said.

he looks amazing tonight - that new blonde hair catching every bit of the light, longer at the ends so it brushes his cheekbones. you still can’t get over it. the photos of the magazine that came out from this morning haven’t left your head since they dropped, and every time you glance his way, your brain just short-circuits a little.

"you’re staring again", han teases you, leaning against the armrest beside you. he’s got that grin, the one that says he’s been waiting all night to call you out.

"i’m not", you protest, but your voice betrays you, coming out softer than you’d like.

"you so are", he says, snickering, "honestly, y/n, if you look at him any harder, he’s gonna combust"

you roll your eyes, hiding your smile behind your drink, "can you blame me? have you seen him tonight? and did you see the magazine this morning?"

"yeah, yeah", han waves you off dramatically, "trust me, i’ve seen him... you know, maybe i’ll take him from you"

you arch an eyebrow, turning fully towards him, "han jisung, can you fight?"

han bursts out laughing at your comment. changbin turns his head to look at you both, felix leans into han’s shoulder trying to hear your conversation better, and even minho looks over from across the room, curious.

"fight?", han repeats, pretending to square up, "it depends, are we talking verbal sparring or actual punches?"

"i don’t care", you say, shrugging innocently, "i know i’d win"

that earns another round of laughter, before he smirks and says, "nah, i’d never stand a chance. he’s gone for you anyway, completely whipped. everyone knows it"

the words hang in the air for a moment. you glance over at minho again. he’s already looking at you, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes soft in the glow of the string lights. it makes your chest ache in a warm, dizzy way.

"yeah", you murmur, smiling back, "i know"

the night goes on - more jokes, more stories, more laughter. minho moves around the room, cleaning plates that don’t belong to him, pouring drinks for others, brushing his hand over your back each time he passes close to you and every little touch leaves your skin tingling.

as the clock creeps closer to midnight, your friends start gathering their coats. one by one, they start leaving - goodbyes at the door, sleepy laughter echoing down the hallway. the apartment feels strange once everyone’s gone - too quiet, almost. there’s still music playing low from your phone on the counter, but without the laughter and voices layered over it, the space feels smaller, warmer.

you finish cleaning the kitchen, stacking cups and brushing crumbs into your hand. minho’s beside you, sleeves rolled up, rinsing plates under the tap. his movements are calm and unhurried, but you can feel the weight of his presence - the easy confidence in the way he stands close, the soft hum he lets out under his breath as he works.

after a few minutes, you lean back against the counter, watching him quietly. he notices your stare, like he always does.

"what?", he asks, smiling, drying his hands on a towel.

"nothing", you say, but it’s too quick, too light.

he raises an eyebrow, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you, "nothing, huh?"

you shake your head, but your heart’s racing, and when he slips his hands around your waist, you melt instantly, wrapping your arms around him too. it’s not rushed, just the two of you swaying there, bodies close, breathing in sync. his thumb traces slow circles on your hip.

"did you have fun tonight, birthday boy?", you ask him.

he nods, his voice softer now, "yeah. it was really good"

you hum in approval, his nose brushing against your temple. and then, because you can’t help yourself, you tilt your head and kiss him - gentle at first, like testing the waters after hours of silent wanting.

he kisses back immediately, hands sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. it’s slow, easy, full of warmth. when you pull back just enough to breathe, you’re both smiling, foreheads touching.

"what were you and han talking about earlier?", he asks suddenly, voice quiet but teasing.

you blink, a little dazed from the kiss, "when?"

"when you told him you’d fight him", he says, his grin widening.

you groan softly, hiding your face in his chest, "you heard that?"

"everyone heard that", he chuckles, pulling you closer, "what was that about?"

"we were just joking, he said he might take you away from me", you mumble, your words half-lost against his shirt.

he stills for a moment, and then you feel his laugh vibrate through you - soft, warm, full of affection. 

"take me away?", he repeats, "from you?"

you pull back just enough to look at him, "well, yeah. have you seen yourself tonight?"

he tilts his head, feigning confusion, "what about me?"

"don’t play dumb", you say, nudging his chest, "you know exactly what i mean"

his expression softens then, all teasing gone. his hand moves to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing just below your lip.

"hey", he says quietly, "you don’t have to worry about that. i’m yours. you’re mine. that’s never changing"

your chest tightens at the way he says it - not possessive, just steady, certain. like there’s nothing he’s more sure of.

you smile, a little shy, "yeah?"

"yeah", he says, smiling back, "you’re kind of stuck with me now"

the words make you laugh, but your heart’s pounding again, warmth rising up your neck. you lean up to kiss him again, this time slower, deeper. his hands slide to your waist, and the air between you changes - heavier now, charged. when you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard.

you brush your thumb over his lower lip, voice dropping to a whisper, "maybe you could remind me of that", you say, your tone teasing but your eyes giving you away.

he blinks, a little breathless, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, "remind you?"

"yeah", you murmur, fingers trailing down his chest, "that you’re mine. and i’m yours"

for a moment, neither of you move and it’s just the sound of your breathing, the hum of the faint music, the electricity thick in the air.

and then he exhales a shaky laugh, his hands tightening on your waist, "guess i should give you a reminder then"

you grin, pulse hammering, and pull him back into another kiss. minho meets your lips with a hunger that makes your knees weak. his lips move against yours, firm and insistent, his tongue slipping past to taste you deeply.

one hand stays at your waist, the other tangles in your hair, tilting your head just how he wants it. he breaks the kiss first, but only to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin. 

"bedroom", he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and rough with want, "now"

you nod, breathless, and he doesn't wait for more. with a gentle but firm grip on your hand, he leads you down the hall, away from what’s left of the party. the door to your bedroom clicks shut behind you, and suddenly it's just the two of you - the party, the kitchen, the music still playing forgotten now.

minho turns to you, his eyes dark and intense, scanning your face like he's memorising every detail. he steps closer, backing you against the door, his body crowding yours in the best way. 

"you've been driving me crazy all night", he says, his fingers tracing the line of your collarbone, "watching you laugh with our friends, the way your dress hugs you... i couldn't stop thinking about getting you alone"

your breath catches, heat pooling low in your stomach, "minho…"

he smiles and leans in to kiss you again. this time, it's slower, more deliberate, his hands roaming your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the fabric. you arch into his touch, wanting more, and he chuckles softly against your mouth. 

"so eager for me. i love that"

his fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and he tugs it down inch by inch, the sound loud in the quiet room. the fabric loosens, sliding off your shoulders, and he helps it pool at your feet. you're left in your underwear, exposed under his gaze, but the way he looks at you, like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, makes your skin flush with desire rather than shyness.

"you’re perfect", he breathes, his hands skimming up your arms, over your shoulders, down to cup your breasts. he thumbs your nipples through the lace, watching your reaction with hooded eyes, "turn around for me. let me see all of you"

you do, spinning slowly, and his hands are there immediately, unhooking your bra with ease. it falls away, and then his fingers hook into your panties, easing them down your legs. you step out of them, fully bare now, and when you face him again, he's already shrugging off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his chest and abs that you've traced a hundred times before.

"your turn to help", he says, voice playful but commanding. 

you reach for his belt, fumbling a little with the buckle. he watches you, his hands resting on your hips. the pants slide down, followed by his boxers, and then he's as naked as you are, his arousal evident, his cock hard and ready for you.

he pulls you to the bed, guiding you down onto the soft sheets. you lie back, heart racing, as he climbs over you, settling between your legs. his weight is comforting, grounding, and he kisses you deeply, one hand bracing beside your head, the other exploring your body. his palm flattens against your stomach, then lower, fingers dipping between your thighs.

"i need to touch you", he whispers, nipping at your lower lip, "i need to feel how wet you are for me. you've been thinking about this all night, haven't you?"

"yes", you gasp, as his fingers part your folds, sliding through your slickness. 

he circles your clit slowly, teasing, building the pressure just enough to make you whimper. his mouth moves to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly, leaving warm trails that make you shiver and moan out loud.

"that's it", he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot, "let me hear you. i want to know how good this feels" 

his finger presses inside you, curling just right, and you arch off the bed, clutching at his shoulders. he adds a second finger, thrusting slowly, his thumb rubbing your clit at the same time. 

his lips find your ear, tongue flicking the lobe before he whispers, "you're so tight, so perfect. i love how you squeeze around me, like you can't get enough" 

you moan, the words sending sparks through you, and he smiles against your skin, picking up the pace. his free hand starts roaming, cupping your breast, pinching your nipple gently until it hardens under his touch. he lowers his head, taking the peak into his mouth, sucking softly while his fingers work you relentlessly. the sensations make your head spin - his tongue swirling, his fingers curling deeper, hitting that spot again and again.

"minho, please...", you beg, hips bucking against his hand.

"i've got you", he promises, his voice husky, "come for me, baby. let go" 

he kisses across to your other breast, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing just enough to tease. his fingers thrust faster now, moving inside you, stretching and preparing you.

the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your core, and you cry out as it finally snaps, your body clenching around his fingers. waves of ecstasy crash over you, and he doesn't stop, drawing it out, whispering praises into your skin. 

"so beautiful when you come. that's my girl"

as the aftershocks fade, he shifts lower, kissing down your stomach, his hands spreading your thighs wider. 

"i’m not done yet", he says, eyes locked on yours, dark with desire, "i want to taste you right now" 

his mouth descends, lips brushing your inner thigh, nipping softly before moving to your centre. his tongue flicks out, lapping at your entrance, tasting your arousal. you gasp, oversensitive, but he holds you steady, his hands firm on your hips. 

"relax", he soothes, voice muffled against you, "let me take care of you" 

he licks a slow stripe up your folds, circling your clit with the flat of his tongue, and the sensation is electric, making your toes curl. he eats you out like he's starved, tongue delving inside you, then sucking gently on your clit. his fingers join again soon after, two sliding back in while his mouth works your most sensitive spot. 

"you taste so good", he groans, the vibration sending shivers through you, "like you're made for me. i could do this all night"

you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, lost in the rhythm of his tongue and fingers. he builds you up again, deliberate and teasing, slowing when you get close, edging you until you're pleading. 

"minho... d-don't stop... i need you"

"i need you too", he replies, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes, his chin glistening, "more than anything" 

then he's back, sucking harder, fingers thrusting deep and fast, curling relentlessly. the overstimulation hits you like a wave, pleasure bordering on too much, but he knows your body, knows how to push you further. 

he edges you more times, bringing you to the brink and pulling back, his mouth whispering hot words against your thigh, "not yet. don’t come just yet. i want you to come hard when i tell you to"

finally, he doesn't let up. his fingers pump faster, tongue flicking in perfect sync, and the pressure builds impossibly, something deeper, more intense. 

"come on, baby", he urges, voice rough with his own need, "give it to me. show me how much you want this. how much you need to come for me"

you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you, more powerful than before. your body convulses, and then it happens - a gush of warmth coming out of you, squirting over his hand and mouth as you cry out his name. he doesn't flinch, lapping it up greedily, fingers still moving to prolong the bliss until you finally collapse against the bed.

"that's it", he praises, kissing your thigh as you tremble, "so perfect. you did so good for me. i love you like this - wide open and all mine" 

he crawls back up, gathering you in his arms, his cock pressing hard against you, but for now, he just holds you, peppering your face with kisses. 

"happy birthday to me", he whispers, smiling against your cheek.

you smile back, your body still humming from the intensity, and you tilt your head to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. your lips part his, tongues sliding together reigniting the fire between you. 

his arms tighten around you, pulling your bare skin flush against his. you taste yourself on his tongue and it only makes you kiss him harder, your hands roaming up his back, nails digging lightly into the muscles there.

minho groans softly into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and he shifts his weight, rolling so you're both on your sides, legs tangled. his hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to hold you close as the kiss deepens. 

he sucks on your lower lip, then nips it gently, drawing a gasp from you that he swallows with another press of his mouth. your breaths mingle, hot and ragged, as you explore each other like it's the first time - tongues teasing, lips bruising.

he breaks away just enough to trail his mouth down your jaw, then to your neck, where he presses open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. his teeth graze your pulse point, sucking lightly until you feel the faint sting of a mark forming, a claim that's all affection and desire. 

"you feel so good like this", he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and breathy, "all flushed and mine" 

his tongue flicks out, lapping at the spot he just kissed, and you arch your neck, giving him better access, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. you turn your head, seeking more of him, and your lips find his earlobe. you take it between your teeth, biting down softly at first, then harder, tugging just enough to make him hiss. 

he shudders against you, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, fingers digging in as you nibble and suck on the sensitive flesh. 

"fuck", he breathes, the word slipping out rough and needy, his body pressing closer, his cock hard and throbbing against your thigh. 

you smile against his ear, whispering hot air over it before biting again, your tongue soothing the bite with a swirl.

the make-out turns heavier, more frantic, with lips crashing, and your hands everywhere. you kiss him full on the mouth again, your tongue delving deep. he responds with equal fervor, one hand tangling in your hair to angle your head, the other roaming your back, tracing the curve of your spine down to your ass, squeezing firmly. you moan into the kiss, your body rocking against his instinctively, feeling the length of his cock slide along your skin.

his mouth leaves yours to return to your neck, kissing and licking a path from your collarbone up to your jaw, then back down, sucking harder this time, leaving wet trails that cool in the air. 

you tilt your head back, exposing more of yourself, and he takes the invitation, his lips latching onto the hollow of your throat, tongue pressing flat against your skin. your mouth finds his ear again, teeth grazing the lobe, then the edge, biting down with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. 

"i’m so turned on, i need you so much, minho…", your voice is desperate and broken, and he groans, his hips jerking forward.

you lose yourself in the rhythm - kissing his lips, his neck, biting his ear when you can reach, while he mirrors you, his mouth hot and insistent on your throat, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. 

his free hand moves to your chest, fingers circling your nipple, pinching it lightly until it pebbles under his touch. he rolls it between his fingers, tugging gently, and you gasp, the sensation shooting straight to your core. 

"minho...", you whimper, and he smiles against your skin, kissing lower to take the other nipple into his mouth, sucking softly while his fingers continue their teasing on the first.

the heavy petting builds the tension, your bodies grinding together, slick with sweat. his cock slides against your stomach, leaving a trail of precum, and you can't resist it anymore. your hand drifts down, fingers wrapping around his length. 

he's hot and hard in your palm, and you stroke him slowly from base to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the wetness there. he bucks into your hand, breaking his attack on your breasts to capture your lips again, but you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, dark and pleading.

"i think the birthday boy needs another present", you murmur, your voice teasing but laced with heat, as you tighten your grip and pump him once, firmly.

his eyes flutter shut for a second, a low moan escaping him, but he leans in to kiss you anyway, his mouth hungry and insistent. 

"oh yeah?", he breathes against your lips, his hand still on your breast, thumb flicking your nipple in time with your strokes, "and are you gonna give it to me now?" 

before you can answer him, he kisses you deeply again, while his fingers pinch and twist your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you.

you stroke him steadily now, your hand gliding up and down his cock, feeling it twitch and throb under your touch. he tries to keep kissing you, lips brushing yours sloppily as his breaths come faster, but you match his pace, your thumb circling the sensitive underside of his head on each upstroke. 

his other hand joins the first on your chest, both now teasing your nipples - rolling, pinching, pulling - making you squirm and moan into his mouth. 

"god, your hand... i-it feels amazing", he groans, nipping at your lower lip, his hips thrusting into your fist.

you quicken your pace, and he curses softly, his mouth moving to your neck again, sucking hard as he chases the building pleasure. your free hand scratches down his back, urging him on, while he focus his attention on your breasts, his tongue darting out to lick one nipple again before sucking it deep, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out. 

the room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, wet kisses, and the slick slide of your hand on his cock.

"i'm close", he warns, voice strained, but he doesn't stop touching you, his fingers relentless on your nipples, pinching harder now, making your body arch into him. 

you stroke faster, base to tip, squeezing at the base to heighten the sensation, and he groans loudly, his mouth crashing back to yours in a messy kiss. his tongue tangles with yours desperately, hips snapping forward as the tension coils tight.

with a final, powerful thrust into your hand, he comes undone. his cock pulses hard, ropes of cum spilling over your fingers and your stomach, warm and sticky. he shudders through it, a deep moan vibrating into your mouth as he kisses you fiercely, his body tensing and releasing in waves. 

you keep stroking him through it, milking every last drop, feeling him throb and pulsing in your grip. he collapses against you and the bed, breathing heavy, but you pull back to look down at the mess he's made - white streaks across your skin, pooling in the dip of your navel, coating your hand. 

it's erotic, intimate, and you meet his gaze, eyes locked as you bring your fingers to your lips. slowly, deliberately, you lick one clean, sucking the cum from your skin with a soft hum, tasting the saltiness of him. then another finger, swirling your tongue around it while you watch his reaction - his pupils blow wide, breath catching.

"fuck", he curses, voice raw and wrecked, and before you can do anything else, he's on you, kissing you hungrily, his tongue inside your mouth to taste himself on you. 

he groans deeply, the sound guttural and needy, his hands cupping your face as he devours you, bodies pressed impossibly closer now. his kiss breaks only for a breath, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark with renewed hunger. 

"i need you so much right now", he growls, voice thick and desperate, his hand sliding down your thigh, gripping the back of your knee. 

he hooks your leg over his hip, pulling you closer, your bodies aligning perfectly in the sheets. his cock, still hard and slick from your hand, nudges against your entrance, teasing the wet folds of your cunt.

you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you again, deep and claiming, tongue thrusting in rhythm with the slow push of his hips. he enters you inch by inch, stretching you open with his thick length, the sensation making you clench around him. 

"fuck, you're so tight", he murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your ass to hold you steady, "feel how much i need this… i need you wrapped around my cock like this" 

he bottoms out, filling you completely, and you both moan, the sound muffled in the wet slide of your kiss. he starts thrusting shallowly from the side, his cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting that spot perfectly. 

your leg over his hip gives him the angle to grind deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit with each roll of his hips. you kiss him desperately, teeth clashing, tongues battling as your hands claw at his shoulders, nails leaving red trails. 

"yes, minho, just like that", you pant, breaking the kiss to nip at his jaw, "your cock feels so good inside me… don't stop"

his pace quickens, hips snapping forward, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. he grabs your thigh tighter, keeping your leg hooked high, while his other hand roams your body again, squeezing your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. 

"you're perfect", he breathes, kissing down your neck, sucking a fresh mark into your skin, "so wet for me, taking every inch. i could fuck you like this all night" 

you rock back against him, meeting his thrusts, your cunt fluttering around his cock as pleasure builds again. but it grows wilder, and you push at his chest, rolling him onto his back with a strength fueled by lust. he moves willingly, a grin flashing before you straddle him, sinking down onto his cock in one fluid motion. 

he fills you deeper from this angle, your walls gripping him tight as you settle, hands planting on his chest for leverage. your fingers stay over his pecs, feeling the hard muscle flex under your palms.

you start riding him, lifting your hips and slamming down, his cock spearing into you every time. the friction is mindblowing - every time you grind forward, his skin rubs directly against your clit, swollen and sensitive, sending jolts through your core. 

"oh god, yes", you moan, head thrown back, your breasts bouncing with the rhythm. 

he watches you, hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements but letting you set the pace. 

"ride me harder", he demands, voice rough, "show me how much you want this… fuck, your cunt's squeezing me so tight"

you're both feral now, lost in the heat. your nails dig into his chest, scratching down to his abs as you bounce faster, the rub of his body on your clit making you whimper. his hands move, grabbing handfuls of your thighs, then your ass, pulling you down harder onto him. 

you lean forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss, but it's messy, all teeth and gasps as you grind. his hands roam wildly, one tangling in your hair to yank your head back, exposing your neck for his teeth, the other slapping your ass lightly before kneading the flesh.

"you're driving me insane", he groans, thrusting up to meet you, his cock hitting deep, "i love watching you fuck yourself on me" 

you cry out, the dirty words fueling you, and you rake your nails across his nipples, making him hiss and buck harder. skin meets skin in frantic slaps, your hands grabbing every inch of skin they find - your hands on his chest, his shoulders, his on your waist, your thighs, anywhere he can hold to pull you closer.

the pace turns punishing, your clit throbbing from the constant rub against him, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach. he sits up suddenly, wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping you wrapped around his cock as he shifts to face you fully. his mouth latches onto your nipple without warning, sucking hard, teeth grazing the peak while his tongue flicks relentlessly.

you scream out loud, the sound raw and unrestrained, your body arching into his mouth as the sensations overwhelm you - his cock buried deep, pulsing inside your cunt, and the sharp pull on your nipple sending fire straight to your core. 

"minho! fuck, yes… harder", you beg, hands fisting in his hair, holding him there as you grind down, circling your hips to chase the edge.

he growls around your nipple, the vibration making you shudder, and releases it with a pop to switch to the other, biting down just enough to sting. 

"come for me", he rasps, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit in tight circles, the other holding your ass to keep you moving, "i want to feel you milk my cock - come all over me, baby. you're so close, i can feel you clenching around me"

the words push you over, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave, your walls spasming wildly around his cock as you scream his name again. he thrusts up erratically, chasing his own release, and with a guttural moan, he follows, hot spurts of cum flooding your cunt, filling you as his body tenses, arms crushing you to him. 

"fuck, yes, take it all", he grunts, mouth back on your nipple, sucking through the aftershocks.

you both collapse once your climaxes end, him falling back with you on top, his cock still twitching inside you as you pant against his chest. he holds you close while you feel the room spinning. 

your bodies spent and intertwined, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. minho's arms tighten around you, and he moves you to capture your lips in a kiss. his tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the taste of sweat and shared cum lingering between you.

with a gentle roll of his hips, he shifts, turning you onto your back beneath him, his weight a comforting press as he stays buried deep. you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him there, your hands sliding up his back to thread through his damp hair. the kiss deepens, turning hungry again, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he groans into your mouth. 

"god, i can't get enough of you", he murmurs, voice husky from the moaning and groaning, his hips giving a lazy thrust that makes you whimper.

he pulls back slightly, eyes locking onto yours with that possessive gleam, but then he eases out slowly, inch by inch, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls until he slips free with a wet sound. 

a rush of your fluids follows - his cum mixed with yours leaking from your cunt, dripping onto the sheets below. minho props himself up on his elbows, glancing down between your legs, his gaze darkening at the sight. the sheets are a wreck, dark stains from your earlier squirting, traces of his release smeared across the fabric, your combined mess pooling beneath your body.

"look at this", he says, his voice low and teasing, one hand trailing down your thigh to spread your folds gently, exposing the evidence of your actions, "we've made such a beautiful mess, baby. our cum is everywhere - on the sheets, leaking out of you. fuck, it's hot knowing i filled you up like that" 

he dips a finger into the slickness, circling your entrance before bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean with a hum of approval. 

"it tastes like us, but don’t worry, i'm gonna clean you up now, take care of you"

your heart races at his words, a flush creeping up your chest as you nod, still buzzing from the high. he leans down to kiss you once more, his lips brushing yours. you melt into it, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him move, his body shifting away from yours. you assume he's heading to the bathroom for a towel or cloth, something practical to wipe away the stickiness between your thighs. the bed dips as he slides lower, and you sigh contentedly, waiting.

but then, instead of the cool touch of fabric, a hot, flat swipe of his tongue glides over your cunt, lapping at the mess from your entrance to your clit in one deliberate stroke. your eyes snap open, a startled gasp escaping as pleasure jolts through your overstimulated nerves. 

"minho!", you cry out, hands flying to his head, fingers tangling in his hair again. 

he's not cleaning you with a towel - he's devouring you again, his mouth sealing over your folds, tongue delving inside to scoop out the mingled cum, sucking it down with greedy swallows.

"shh, let me take care of you", he mumbles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. 

his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, holding you open as he eats you out again. his tongue thrusts in and out, fucking into your cunt to gather every drop, then flattens to lick broad paths over your swollen clit. 

you're hypersensitive, every flick and swirl making your hips buck involuntarily, the overstimulation bordering on too much - your clit throbs, your walls clenching around nothing as sparks of discomfort mix with building heat.

"minho i-it's… too much", you whine, but even as the words leave your lips, fresh arousal slicks his tongue, your body betraying you, craving more despite the ache. 

he chuckles darkly, the sound rumbling against your core, and sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling it gently between his lips. 

"too much? your cunt's dripping for me again, baby. you’re so wet, so ready. i can taste how sweet you are mixed with my cum. fuck, i love eating this out of you" 

his words are filthy, his breath hot against your skin, and he dives back in, tongue spearing deep, lapping at your walls while his nose bumps your clit. you pull him closer by the hair, yanking him against you, the pain in his scalp urging him on as you grind up into his face. 

"i-i oh, fuck… don't stop, minho, please", you beg, your voice breaking on a moan. 

your thighs tremble around his head as he works you relentlessly. he alternates between deep licks inside you, cleaning every trace of cum, and focused attention on your clit - sucking, nibbling, flicking with the tip of his tongue until your vision blurs.

the overstimulation fades into pure bliss, your cunt fluttering as another orgasm builds fast and fierce. his fingers join his mouth, two sliding into you to curl against that spot inside, pumping in time with his tongue’s moves. 

"come on, give it to me, baby, i know you can", he growls, pulling back just enough to watch your face, his chin glistening with your arousal, "i want another one, squirt for me again, flood my mouth one more time" 

he places his lips around your clit and sucks hard, fingers thrusting faster, and it's all you need. the climax hits like lightning, mindblowing and all-consuming, your back arching off the bed as you scream his name. 

your cunt convulses around his fingers, gushing fresh wetness that he drinks down eagerly, tongue lashing through the waves. every nerve firing as you ride the peak, hands fisting his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn't pull away - he prolongs it, licking softly until you're shuddering, spent.

you collapse back onto the pillows, chest heaving, limbs heavy as jelly. minho rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he crawls up your body. he hovers over you, eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. 

"there, all clean now", he says, voice rough but playful, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, "i told you you were mine, remember?"

you laugh breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down fully, his weight grounding you. 

"yes, i know. i’m yours, minho" you whisper, nuzzling into his neck, "happy birthday again, my love" 

your words trail into another kiss, soft and lingering, sealing the night with quiet intimacy as you both drift towards sleep, bodies entwined in the rumpled and messy sheets.

the library

You and Jake have been together for nearly five years—since the final months of high school, when you stumbled into something that felt a little too gentle to be real, too safe to be intense. Most people around you just don’t get it. They whisper that your relationship is sweet, sure, but stale. Predictable. Lifeless, even.

But they don’t know a damn thing.

They don’t know that you and Jake don’t need dominance or power games to melt each other down into quivering pieces. You don’t play roles. You don’t lead or follow.  You move, he moves. You're both responsive, both hungry, both gentle in ways that burn just as deep. It’s not about who takes control—it's about how far you’re both willing to unravel for each other.

If those assholes could see what actually happens behind closed doors, they'd choke on their smug assumptions. 

"Nghh—baby..." Jake's voice is slurred, barely even speech anymore. His face is buried between your legs, the heat of his breath searing against you, tongue dragging slow as he works you over.

 And fuck, you are gone, head thrown back, hips twitching, thighs trembling around his ears.

The only soundtrack is the obscene wetness of his mouth on you, your choked moans, and the blaring growl of an electric guitar seeping through the wall, his room mate, Jay’s latest desperate attempt to drown out the symphony of you and Jake destroying each other.

It doesn’t work.

Your ears are ringing. Your vision blurs every time your spine arches off the mattress. Your legs are shaking so hard they barely stay hooked around his shoulders. Your body is covered in bruises and teeth marks. Jake’s arms are clawed raw, red streaks down to his elbows from where you grabbed and dug in, helpless under the waves he pulled from you again and again and again.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come, how many times you’ve done the same to him. It's a haze. A loop. An exchange of pleasure until your bones feel hollow.

You barely catch your breath before his fingers are inside you again, curling just right, his mouth crashing into yours, swallowing your moans as you clench around him and cum hard enough to see stars. Your hand slips between you, wrapping around him, stroking with messy urgency until he gasps into your mouth and spills across your stomach. 

Then comes the slow grind of hips in missionary, Jake above you, eyes glassy, sweat dripping down his temple. He pushes in deep, moaning into your throat while you clutch at his back, legs locked around his waist, and both of you fall together again. 

Vanilla, their ass.

The aftershocks haven’t even stopped vibrating through your bones when Jake rolls off of you, chest heaving, lips parted. He sprawls across the sheets, flushed and trembling.

Without a word, you swing a leg over him, straddling his face. He groans like a man starved as your thighs settle against the sides of his head, and your gaze lowers to his cock. thick, flushed, and still rock hard despite having cum four fucking times already.

You lean down, tongue flicking out to tease the head, your breath warm over his slick skin. His hips twitch instantly, a soft, choked whine escaping from under you.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, voice muffled between your thighs.

You take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him,  the way his whole body tenses beneath you. At the same time, you feel his tongue drag through your folds.

You moan around his cock, the vibration making him jerk. You grind back against his mouth, and he groans right into your cunt, tongue sliding in and curling upward. He hardens it, fucking you with it, slow and deep, as your hips begin to roll.

It’s a filthy rhythm—your mouth stretching around him, sucking harder, faster, your spit dripping down his shaft while he licks and licks and licks, tongue relentless, hands gripping your ass as he pulls you tighter against his face. Your thighs clamp down on instinct, not letting him breathe, not letting him stop.

You feel the familiar pulse in your core and the slight twitch of his cock against your tongue, he’s close, again. You squeeze him tighter with your lips, hollow your cheeks, and the sound he makes is damn near ruined. His whine hits a high pitch, hips jerking once, twice and then he spills into your mouth. You swallow it greedily.

Jake latches onto your clit now, sucking, and you are barely holding on, every nerve burning. Your whole body is tensed, arms braced against his thighs, cunt pulsing uncontrollably around his tongue. Your thighs clamp even tighter, grinding down until he can’t even moan, just hums and licks and loses himself.

Jake loves it—loves how wet you get, how you suffocate him with your thighs like it’s nothing, how your pussy clenches around his tongue. He loves the little tremble in your legs, the broken cries you try to stifle, the taste of your arousal dripping down his chin.

"Jake, fuck! I'm gonna cum!" you squeal, your voice shaking, one hand fisting around his softening cock, feeling it twitch, swell, harden again.

Your hips grind down one last time, helpless, chasing that final drag of his tongue as your orgasm hits. You cry out, body shaking above him, pussy spasming around his mouth. Your forehead presses to his thigh, gasping, and you barely manage to keep sucking him as your world shatters again.

Jake lets out a high whine, hips twitching upward into your mouth. He’s still so fucking hard, again. You can feel it, thick and throbbing between your lips.

He moves again as another orgasm crashes into the both of you.

Another orgasm.

And another.

And another.

You lose count. Time folds. The two of you are always going at it like rabbits, bodies slick and tangled, pleasure drawn out like it might never end. At some point you’re flat on your back again, back arched off the wet bed, sheets soaked with sweat and everything else, Jake’s mouth between your legs for what feels like the hundredth time.

You’re delirious, you feel like you are floating.

He pulls back, lips shiny, chin drenched. You barely get the chance to breathe before he’s kneeling between your thighs, jerking himself off with quick, rough strokes. His eyes are locked on your chest, on the rise and fall of your breath, on your wrecked body twitching with aftershocks. He grits his teeth, then pulls his cock free, aiming it at you.

You're hypnotized.

By the way it twitches. By the way his jaw clenches. By the way his abs tighten and he throws his head back with a broken moan as hot ropes of cum spill across your chest, painting your skin with another climax that somehow hits just as hard as the first.

And still, he's not done.

Jake leans forward, one hand smearing the mess across your breasts, mouth crashing into yours with wild hunger. His cock presses against your thigh, still hard and leaking.

"You want more?" he pants against your lips, voice hoarse, almost disbelieving at how far you both keep falling.

You nod, eyes wide, lips parted. Jake flips you over in one smooth motion, pushing you onto your hands and knees, body trembling beneath him. His hands grip your hips, pushing inside again, deep, slow, a stretch that feels impossibly full despite how soaked you are.

You both moan at once. And then he starts to move, hips snapping into you, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, drowning out even Jay’s music, which is now thundering through the walls in one last futile attempt to ignore what’s happening just a few feet away.

“Ahh, fuck, Jake, baby!” you cry out, fingers clawing at the twisted sheets as the rhythm builds.

Jake groans behind you, bracing himself with both hands on yours, pinning you to the mattress as he drives deeper, rougher. You love this position—God, how you love it. He finds every spot, angles his hips just right until you’re gasping, sobbing into the mattress.

“We’re so fucking good together,” Jake pants into your ear, his voice shaking with need, “Fuck.” His lips find your neck, kissing everywhere he can reach, hot, sloppy, open-mouthed, desperate to mark.

You tilt your head back blindly, catching his mouth in a messy kiss over your shoulder, tongues tangling, moans swallowed between breathless gasps as he starts to thrust harder, deeper, your bodies slamming together.

You’re clenching around him so hard, you can feel every ridge, every twitch of his cock. The orgasm hits, your breath catching, head lolling forward as heat floods you from the inside out. "Fuck!"

Jake keeps going through it, keeps thrusting through your high, refusing it to end. Your hips instinctively push back against him, your eyes roll back, jaw slack, pleasure crackling through every nerve.

“F-fuck, I—shit,” Jake chokes out, repositioning behind you with a sharp slap to your ass that makes your whole body jolt. He watches it jiggle with a low groan, hips snapping forward again and again. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, and your arms finally give out.

You collapse forward, face buried in the soaked mattress, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, your body slack and trembling. Completely, utterly fucked out.

“B-b-baby,” Jake stammers, leaning over you again, his chest slick and warm against your back.

You feel his arms slide beneath you, one curling tightly around your waist, the other slipping under your body to knead your breast in slow, circular motions. He’s still thrusting, slower now, but no less intense. You feel every inch, every grind of his hips, his cock dragging against your overstimulated walls as he pants against your ear.

“You can take another one for me?” he whines, voice cracking into a whisper. “P-please? Pretty—pretty please?” 

You moan weakly, unable to find words, only nodding as your fingers twitch into the sheets. You’re half-asleep, fucked so deep into the mattress your limbs barely move but Jake’s still moving, still inside you.

“Don’t s-sleep, nghh, baby, fuck,” he breathes, nuzzling into your nape, teeth grazing the sweat-slick skin there before sinking in gently, biting down as his hips start to pick up again.

The pleasure's too much now, tangled with pain and pressure until your body doesn’t know the difference. You're a trembling mess, whimpering, twitching, your muscles weak from everything he's already wrung out of you.

You don't know how he's still strong enough to shift your limp body, but suddenly you're on your back, legs pushed up and pinned high beside your shoulders. His hands curl behind your knees, holding you wide open as he sinks into you again with no warning.

He grunts as he slides home, balls-deep, moaning loudly, eyes locked onto your face, drinking every twitch, every gasp, every flutter of your lashes. His hips start pounding again, relentless, slapping into your soaked cunt with wet, brutal rhythm.

Your mouth falls open, lips slack, eyes half-lidded. You can't even speak.

“Baby! L-love you—ahhh!” Jake cries out. One of his hands slips down, thumb pressing to your clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles.

You twitch violently beneath him, chest heaving, body barely holding together.

Even with your consciousness slipping—your mind half-blacked out from pleasure and fatigue—you feel it again. That same heat blooming low in your belly. Your legs are burning in the mating press, your lungs clawing for air, your head spinning.

“J-Jake, w-wait!” you sob, shaking your head from side to side, voice cracked, but his thrusts only get harder, his thumb moving faster, and ruthless.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop—just one more,” he begs, almost delirious.

“FUCK!” you scream,  fingers twisting the sheets, your body shaking as it hits you. “Fuckfuckfuck!” you shriek as your entire core contracts violently. Your back arches. Your vision whites out. You feel the gush of hot liquid pulsing from your cunt, soaking the sheets, his pelvis, everything.

Jake groans loud and deep. But he doesn't stop. He keeps moving, keeps rubbing, his thumb grinding your clit as you cry out and shake under him. Your legs jerk in his grip, body trying to retreat, but he doesn’t let go.

Your voice cracks—"No! No more!"—but it's lost in the noise.  

“O-one more, baby, please,” he moans as he leans over you again, his body trembling, lips brushing your ear.

Your scream rises again as his cock drags through your soaked walls, now slick with your release. You’re squeezing him so tight he’s nearly frozen in place. His eyes roll back, mouth dropping open.

“Jesus Christ, people! Tone it down!” Jay roars from the other side of the wall, banging his fist hard against it, rattling the drywall. His voice is muffled, furious, but distant and irrelevant.

Jake doesn’t even blink. He’s too far gone. His hands tighten around your thighs as he slams forward, again and again, slick friction loud and obscene, the slap of your bodies echoing through the room.

“Last one,” he gasps. “Fuuuuck, baby, fuck—!”

You scream again, nails digging into his wrists as your body explodes for the final time—another hot gush forced from your cunt, a violent surge that splashes his abdomen and thighs. Jake throws his head back and howls, the tension in his spine snapping as you clamp down so hard around his cock it punches the orgasm straight out of him.

He cums inside you, trembling, moaning, his voice broken and high as he spills deep, cock twitching wildly, over and over. His whole body quakes as he presses into you, emptying himself in ragged pulses that stretch on and on.

By the time it ends, you're both shaking. The room is thick with heat and the sharp, musky scent of sex, every surface damp with sweat, slick, and release.

Jake pulls out slowly, carefully, and even that soft withdrawal makes you both moan. The two of you are oversensitive. 

Jake collapses beside you, arms immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close. His face buries in the crook of your neck, lips pressing the faintest kiss to your skin.

for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.

they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable. 

though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart. 

no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jake when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along. 

thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jake had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.

jay said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jake’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jake?” you whispered. 

“hm?”

you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”

jake exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier. 

it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”

you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts. 

“why do you want to leave?” jake asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you. 

“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.

jake could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“i don’t like smoking.”

“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jake reasoned. 

“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”

jake groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”

“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.

jake was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jake pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”

jungwon groaned. jay rolled his eyes. heeseung snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”

jake flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.

the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.

jake opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.

you didn’t mind that. jake was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.

but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.

would jake still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?

you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.

“jake,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”

“nothing, baby,” jake lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely. 

when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

jake forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”

you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say. 

jake scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled. 

your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jake reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.

the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go. 

a feeling you knew all too well. 

the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.

it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jake wanted nothing more to do with you right now. 

to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door. 

you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.

jake took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”

he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered. 

jake reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”

you released a shaky breath. jake understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”

“why are you scared?” jake asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”

“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”

jake chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”

your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”

“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”

jake bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.

you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.

there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.

sunghoon was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.

“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day. 

“hey, doll,” sunghoon greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”

you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, sunghoon didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“we were able to wrap things up early,” sunghoon explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.

“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jake and his friends tonight. 

“yeah.” sunghoon’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”

you blinked. sunghoon always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.

sunghoon set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”

“how did you know?”

“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly. 

your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”

sunghoon chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”

you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.

ironically, it was silent for a moment as sunghoon sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. sunghoon spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”

you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”

that threw sunghoon off. “so why are you still dating him?”

“i don’t know,” you huffed.

sunghoon’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.

your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”

if anything, that only served to make sunghoon even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”

“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”

“and you don’t?” sunghoon finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.

you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”

“well, you gotta know something, baby,” sunghoon teased. “do you, or do not you?”

ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”

sunghoon hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”

you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”

sunghoon placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”

but could you do any better? jake was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.

but there was nothing like that with sunghoon. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”

sunghoon shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it. 

but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken. 

but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”

sunghoon shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”

“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful. 

sunghoon could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”

you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.

the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to sunghoon’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.

apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on sunghoon’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.

when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.

none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.

your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?” 

you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.

clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”

you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.

“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”

with that, your mother turned and walked away. 

you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.

and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.

and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.

in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with sunghoon, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs. 

which meant he’d carried you.

your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength. 

it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.

almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jake inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.

you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past sunghoon and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”

you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”

“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.

you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.

your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”

you stood your ground. “no.”

your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”

your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?

sunghoon made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”

switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.

your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”

“you called her a whore,” sunghoon replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”

“i said she looked like one.”

sunghoon sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”

your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.

the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jake’s car.

the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jake had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.

jake handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”

though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”

“a mix of things,” jake replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”

you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”

jake furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”

you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”

“you have such a stick up your ass,” jake teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.

you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.

“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”

you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice. 

jake chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”

you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.

jake hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jake mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”

“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.

“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jake asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “heeseung’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”

you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to heeseung only strengthened your hesitation.

“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

jake grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”

“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”

jake begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?

you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.

it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.

with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.

sunghoon picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”

“daddy?”

even if it was only one word, sunghoon could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”

“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.

sunghoon’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”

“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”

you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”

fifteen minutes later, give or take, sunghoon called you and told you that he was outside.

you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jake could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.

thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.

sunghoon glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”

you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”

sunghoon knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.

you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jake gave me a cup and told me to try it.”

sunghoon exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jake, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”

you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering. 

sunghoon glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”

“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them. 

he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jake even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something. 

and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best. 

though sunghoon’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”

“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble. 

sunghoon’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”

family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years. 

you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”

that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.

the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.

but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. sunghoon was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems. 

all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time. 

it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him. 

but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty. 

you knew it would be a bad idea to look at sunghoon, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”

arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”

“i know it is, doll,” sunghoon whispered. “i know it is.”

something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”

sunghoon looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”

if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”

“and thirty days,” sunghoon added dryly.

he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”

“i’m just good at quick math.”

you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly. 

“thirty-nine.”

“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”

“twenty-one,” sunghoon answered without any forethought.

more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that. 

but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult. 

“besides,” sunghoon continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”

your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared. 

if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer. 

sunghoon kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”

“it’s okay,” sunghoon replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”

you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask. 

sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, sunghoon picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.

you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.

but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.

maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. sunghoon made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.

after washing your face, sunghoon grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”

“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”

sunghoon grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

“g’night, daddy.”

the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.

you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork. 

once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.

the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again. 

you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.

sunghoon watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, sunghoon was just a man.

“i’ll get it,” sunghoon insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.

you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed sunghoon come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal. 

then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”

sunghoon shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.

“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise. 

most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” sunghoon repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”

your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.

or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.

“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had. 

sure, you’d had dreams about sunghoon before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.

that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine sunghoon doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.

it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; sunghoon’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.

part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only sunghoon would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.

but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, sunghoon was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do. 

“hello?” jake said when he picked up the phone. 

your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jake,” you whispered. “hi.”

“hi,” jake repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”

jake made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.

you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to heeseung’s room, and i got even more worried.”

“why?”

“i don’t like heeseung,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”

“baby,” jake sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “heeseung’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”

you were only half relieved. “thank you.”

“now, is that why you called me? to tell me heeseung makes you uncomfortable?” he asked. 

“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”

“what is it, sweetheart?”

you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”

you could practically feel jake perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned. 

“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jake. right now.”

jake was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”

“home.”

“can i come over?”

“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”

“i’m on the way,” jake said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up. 

you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jake was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.

it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around sunghoon and you were afraid of having sex with jake for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.

you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jake, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?

clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.

time went by faster than you thought, considering that jake didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.

your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jake would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.

jake, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.

“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

jake coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”

your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jake said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”

that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jake by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times sunghoon and jake had met, there was strange tension in the air.

based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jake outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”

jake chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered sunghoon telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend. 

“you don’t need protecting from me,” jake told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”

define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jake too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”

“and what’s the truth?”

“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”

jake looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.

but when jake opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?” 

your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”

“yours?” jake echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right. 

the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad. 

jake scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”

“but, jake,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving. 

shaking his head, jake threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”

you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jake, please don’t go,” you begged.

he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.

as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.

as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?” 

you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.

it hurt more than it should have, watching jake leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.

maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.

sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jake was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.

it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.

there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.

and maybe if you meant more to jake than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.

and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: sunghoon. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart. 

the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.

the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control. 

control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours. 

seeing someone like sunghoon, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.

that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.

thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.

because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong. 

just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.

after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting  your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.

you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier. 

to your surprise, rather than your mother, sunghoon was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.

you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but sunghoon beat you to it, handing you a water.

when your eyes widened a little in surprise, sunghoon snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”

he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.

“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”

you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”

sunghoon chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”

you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if sunghoon was home. 

sunghoon followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”

you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”

“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” sunghoon started levelly. 

you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jake was here earlier?”

“she did.”

you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”

“it’s not just the boy,” sunghoon replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”

you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”

sighing, sunghoon said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”

“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”

“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” sunghoon answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”

“i told you, i don’t like him.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”

“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.  

“then, explain it to me,” sunghoon said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

sunghoon heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, sunghoon heard something else about that boy.

something more infuriating than the last.

you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”

“i’ll always try,” sunghoon told you, voice featherlight.

you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”

sunghoon placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”

you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.

sunghoon smiled softly and pat your shoulder.

for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jake again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.

or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.

this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.

you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jake had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.

it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jake? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.

surely enough, the attached image was of jake swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.

only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.

whatever had happened between you and jake the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.

but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jake were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.

now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.

torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.

the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew sunghoon kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.

taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that sunghoon was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.

you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.

it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of sunghoon, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.

his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.

for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.

you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.

with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.

your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of sunghoon on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.

it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.

your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.

how could you? the mere sight of sunghoon made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that sunghoon was good for you. that he was meant for you.

maybe thinking of sunghoon as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.

you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.

one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was sunghoon’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of sunghoon touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.

the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.

you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, sunghoon would have been fucking you every night.

the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped sunghoon would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.

there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was sunghoon’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.

your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like sunghoon.

those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?

you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.

it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though sunghoon would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.

you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was sunghoon’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.

so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about sunghoon. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jake and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away. 

it was easier to think about sunghoon, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.

still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.

the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured sunghoon would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.

like clockwork, sunghoon came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”

you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”

sunghoon leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”

“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.

“mm.”

you turned around to face sunghoon, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”

sunghoon bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”

you and sunghoon sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.

while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to sunghoon, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.

not only that, but you didn’t know how sunghoon would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.

after the dishes were washed, something sunghoon volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”

sunghoon turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”

sunghoon didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”

you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”

sunghoon’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.

sunghoon pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”

you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“it’s alright,” sunghoon replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”

your heart stopped. “…was?”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”

that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”

it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”

you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.

tensing a little, sunghoon continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”

“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.

“you lost someone, too.”

the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”

sunghoon’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”

there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”

after much internal wavering, sunghoon reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”

your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”

“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly. 

you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”

“i’ll never give up on you.”

you were beaming. “i know.”

this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.

at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, sunghoon’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained. 

much like the rest of him.

in the time that you had spent thinking about sunghoon’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jake,” you announced.

though he didn’t expect the topic change, sunghoon couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”

you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.

the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” sunghoon exclaimed.

you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather. 

taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”

sunghoon shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.

jake had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.

there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”

you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.

sunghoon listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”

your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”

“no, doll,” sunghoon replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”

you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”

sunghoon squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jake’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”

you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.

as sunghoon looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jake?” he asked after a pause. 

“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.

sunghoon let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”

there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jake because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jake selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”

“mm.”

your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”

sunghoon tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.

because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.

sighing, sunghoon relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”

“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.

sunghoon ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”

“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”

sunghoon didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” sunghoon started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”

that stung. you never knew sunghoon was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.

sunghoon softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”

you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?

why did you see him like that?

to make matters worse, sunghoon didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.

maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things sunghoon provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.

or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.

it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.

just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”

sunghoon came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.

you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”

he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” sunghoon said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.

you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”

“maybe a little bit,” sunghoon told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”

you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”

sunghoon hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”

your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”

“why you do the things you do,” sunghoon continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”

saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.

sunghoon stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jake, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”

sunghoon’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”

“i don’t care.”

sunghoon sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”

“so? am i thirteen right now?”

“no, but you’re barely legal.”

“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”

there was no doubt that sunghoon was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started. 

“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”

“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” sunghoon told you, stern, but level. 

obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”

sunghoon sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”

“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.

sunghoon knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.

the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.

sunghoon had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.

but it would be wrong. and sunghoon had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.

so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.

you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. sunghoon didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.

but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.

looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.

“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them. 

look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.

you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.

it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.

testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of sunghoon, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.

sunghoon knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”

“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”

it wasn’t for lack of trying. sunghoon closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.

he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.

you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.

when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”

you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath sunghoon’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.

releasing a shaky breath, sunghoon brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”

you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.

sunghoon shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”

you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.

there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.

“you’re okay,” sunghoon reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”

with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.

this time, sunghoon held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.

afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.

sunghoon moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have sunghoon inside.

to your surprise, sunghoon cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”

your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.

“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”

sunghoon was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”

“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. 

the room felt hot, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”

it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”

sunghoon grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss. 

it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.

you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jake had shared. while you would admit that jake was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to sunghoon made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.

sunghoon slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.

you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”

that you were. sunghoon could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”

then without another word, sunghoon went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.

your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - sunghoon was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.

sunghoon wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.

“god, you taste so good, baby,” sunghoon groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”

it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. sunghoon licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy. 

just the way you always wanted.

“does that feel good, baby?” sunghoon pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”

you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged. 

hearing you say that only made sunghoon harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”

then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.

you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. sunghoon’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.

“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants. 

“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”

with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.

sunghoon only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.

you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jake and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.

“that’s it, doll,” sunghoon crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”

all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.

“i know,” sunghoon whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”

sunghoon got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.

“so perfect,” sunghoon murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”

you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed sunghoon’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile. 

“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”

you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.

even as sunghoon moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, sunghoon asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”

“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”

that was all it took for sunghoon to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.

“oh my god,” you gasped out. 

sunghoon chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”

you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.

sunghoon’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to sunghoon, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.

your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.

sunghoon took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.

“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.

you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”

“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.

not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.

“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”

“fuck,” sunghoon groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.

“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly. 

“halfway, babe,” sunghoon told you.

you gawked. “halfway?”

sunghoon shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.

“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined. 

“i know, baby girl,” sunghoon replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”

“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”

sunghoon swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.

when sunghoon’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his. 

because you were.

“jesus christ,” sunghoon hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”

“you feel good too,” you stammered out.

sunghoon took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.

you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped sunghoon’s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.

sunghoon’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”

and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. sunghoon could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.

something made sunghoon hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.

“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”

you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”

sunghoon felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”

your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”

“mine?” sunghoon repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.

you nodded your head. 

sunghoon prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”

the mere mention of jake made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”

sunghoon didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.

you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.

sunghoon saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.

you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. sunghoon wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.

“you think about me a lot?” sunghoon asked. 

you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”

sunghoon was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”

“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”

“every day?” sunghoon repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”

“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.

sunghoon groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”

“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”

sunghoon almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.

your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.

it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.

“that’s it,” sunghoon crooned. “good girl. you’re amazing, doll.”

you stilled after a moment, sated. 

the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made sunghoon moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.

“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”

that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt sunghoon dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.

for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. sunghoon kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.

you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and sunghoon both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.

your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jake.

and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.

“baby, you picked up,” jake said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”

before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” sunghoon hissed. 

he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.

you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”

Jeongin is out, should be back soon but you and Chan couldn't even make it down the hall before you were dropping to your knees, sloppy hair tied back, drooling tongue begging for the weight of his cock. 

Now he's down your throat, leaky cock abusing your narrow hole as you suck him off like it's your last chance to. Chan falls apart. 

“That fucking mouth, His hips stutter forward, thrusting just barely and groaning at the feel of you swallowing around him. You hum, he moans. “Lemme fuck it.”

His hand finds its way into your hair, tugging just barely, then—bringing his other hand towards the underside of your jaw—he holds you in place. 

His hips move slow, measured, like he’s testing how far your throat will stretch. He keeps his pace until the feeling of your spit drooling down over his balls chips his already slipping control. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with every motion. Your eyes are watering, your jaw aches, your cunt is clenching around nothing but he keeps using you like something silicone. 

“Holy shit, baby—taking me so fucking well.” He looks down at you, heavy-lidded, catching the exact moment a tear falls. His lips part, only a groan escapes, tongue caught between his teeth as your spit pools on the hallway floor.

Chan pulls you off of him with a fist full of your hair, watching you gasp for breath. Lines and lines of spit connect you to him, sliding down your chin to ruin your shirt.

“Prettiest fucking thing.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, slips between, and presses down on your tongue. His other hand strokes his cock, eyes glued to you, fucked out and blinking up at him like he’s all you know. “Baby, is only good for sucking cock, yeah?” 

You hum, nod, batting your lashes. His pace quickens, his eyes flutter but don’t shut. “Look at me. Don’t stop looking at me. ‘M gonna come on that pretty face.” 

Your lips close around his thumb, sucking just enough to push him over. His brows pinch, his rhythm falters. “Open. Now, baby—fuck.” 

He comes with a grunt, eyes fluttering shut for only a second before forcing them open to watch you. Hot ropes paint your face—over your lips, tongue, cheek. He swipes his thumb through the mess on your cheek and pushes it back between your lips. You hum at the taste.

“Nasty, nasty, girl.” He leans back, catching his breath—then you hear the lock of the front door, his head turns toward the noise. “Time to take this to my room, yeah?”

He looks over the mess he made of you one more time before starting down the hall. “Come.” You start to stand. He tuts, looking over his shoulder.

“Crawl.” The sound of your knees hitting the floor makes him smirk. 

“If Jeongin walks in, keep crawling…” He turns back, “...and smile for him.”

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“you feel me?” he asks. chan’s not expecting an answer, not when you’re as fucked silly as you are, but he wants one, so you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to tell him with slurred words.

“uh-huh… mhm, feel you. it’s- ‘s fucking deep, channie.”

he’s already deep but ruts even deeper then, bucking his hips against your ass like he can’t help it. he grinds slow, nasty, lifting high on his palms a moment to watch himself fuck into you. you can see him if you cut your eyes just so, lift your heavy head from the rumpled pillow to expand your sight. chan’s eyes are locked on where he spears you open, where your cunt stretches around his leaking cock and milks it dry. if he’s aware of your gaze on him, he doesn’t show it, eyes slightly crazed as he pulls himself from you to leave his tip snug inside. his jaw works — you can see his tongue prod against the inside of his cheek if only for a moment, but your eyes are rolling as soon as the sound hits your ears, the ptew of the drop, the messy smack of his saliva hitting the base of his cock and rolling down to where you hug him.

he’s fully on top of you again before you can blink your eyes forward, fucking all the way inside in one go, where you’re warm and tight, sticky and gooey. he’s deep again; how can you still manage to be surprised? but it makes your feet kick out and your hands scramble regardless, overwhelmed by how much cock he gives you, how slick everything sounds now that your wetness is mixing with his spit. he’s fucking you so well that you bet the beat of his cock is frothing it up, making you creamy.

everything about him is hot — a multitude of meanings but particularly warm in this instance — you stick together in more than one place, knocking knees and folded arms. his chest sticks to you too, peels away every few seconds with how hard he thrusts, but you feel it down your curving spine, that warmth, how he’s probably strawberry pink down his pecs with exertion and dripping sweat onto the skin of your back.

that’s when you feel it, a breeze in the summer heat, ice-cold water cascading down sun warmed skin.

you’d be able to hear it too, if you could focus on any other sound than the beautiful ones the man above you makes, the clink of his necklace chain, the muted thud of the dangling charm against the divot of your spine.

it’s cool where you’re hot, the chain kisses your skin every time chan bucks his hips into your ass. if he were to put all of his weight on you and trap the chain between your bodies, would it leave a mark? a brand, one that fades with time but a brand nonetheless, necklace chain indented into your skin as the smallest sign of how much he loves you.

“c’mere,” chan breathes. he does it for you, snakes his arm from the bed all the way to your neck, wraps around it until your chin is cradled by corded muscle. it’s different than his fingers wrapping around your throat, the pressure more concentrated with the sure dig of digits and a confident palm; it’s different, it’s fuller. he takes hold of the ball of your shoulder to keep you both in place. chan kisses your ear when your own fingers scramble for his elbow, the other hand trapped underneath your chest like a cat. “let me have you, baby. fucking lemme have what’s mine, yeah? fuck. shit, that feel good? you feel good?”

“i feel so fucking good. you make me feel so good.” deep from your chest, words clawing up your throat in their haste to tumble from your lips. chan’s arm squeezes once around your neck in acknowledgement, in thanks, if his stuttered breath is anything to go by.

his lips are searing against your shoulder, your ears, the sweat salty skin of your cheek. you can tell when he gets close — his hips rut hard, lose their rhythm just find it again and lose it once more. chan’s lips are pressed behind your ear, a blessing and a curse. a blessing because you hear him unabashed, his moans of your name and moony ramblings about your cunt, sweet whimpers that he tries and fails to hide in your hair. a curse because it’s just a matter of time before this moment ends.

his necklace clinks, his fingers dig into your shoulder.

“you’re gonna make me cum,” he hisses, desperate. how could you be you doing anything? other than laying lax and letting him use your body like a customized toy, the unconscious clench of your sopping pussy coaxing him further and further to the precipice. but maybe that’s all he needs, maybe all he needs is you willing and pliant. maybe you’re doing more than you think, proven when chan shudders on top of you and groans through gritted teeth. “baby. oh, baby. honey, you’re gonna make me cum. gonna make me fucking cum.”

he’s pretty when he cums, with his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw dropped wide, pink lips slack. you wish you could see it, but his arm remains snug around your neck, tensing along with the rest of his body when he cums in ropes into your hungry pussy.

“fuuuuck.” a growl, something primal and frantic. he pulls his softening cock from your insides and you nearly squeal in aching disapproval, cunt winking through desperate clenches until the gape of it softens. his arm disappears too, his warmth from your back — you’re lost, floating, but he anchors you back down when he grips your hips and squeezes your asscheeks, his necklace brushing against your twitching thigh, making his new home low between your legs to lap his pink little tongue against your clit.

you’re so wet you can hardly feel his tongue, not until he shakes his head like a dog, pulls your cheeks apart with insistent thumbs to get deep. your hole welcomes him again, his tongue this time, fat lips locking around that sensitive give and sucking.

Even before getting any experience, he'd been aware of just how comically large his dick was. He'd known ever since he had to go out of his way to search for porn with ‘massive cock!’ in the title for it to look anything like his, and even then he often found himself thinking they had to be exaggerating a bit for the sake of clicks.

Turns out, the comparison with real life average sizes is even more ridiculous.

He knows it sounds silly, there are hordes of men out there that would pay good money to swap places with him—his dear friend Jake being the first in line.

Sunghoon still cringes when he remembers the first time he'd oh so innocently asked Jake for his opinion on the matter. Truthfully, all he wanted to hear from his bleached blonde friend was some reassurance, maybe how it was all in his head, or how at the end of the day the right person would love and appreciate every part of him no matter what, or whatever you tell people in situations like these. His first mistake was believing Jake out of all his friends would do the most tactful thing.

“That thing’s like—fucking huge!” Jake shrieked, grabbing Sunghoon’s phone out of his hands, every protest falling on deaf ears. “There’s no fucking way, man.”

“It’s not that b—” Sunghoon tries to speak, but Jake stops him before he even gets a sentence in, calling Jay’s name at the top of his lungs. 

“What are you—”

“WHAT,” Jay yells back from the kitchen, over the deafening sound of the food processor in use, annoyed by Jake’s continuous interruptions that day. Of which at least four were to show him some nasty looking recipe he found on tiktok.

“You gotta come take a look at this!”

At the time, Sunghoon was still vaguely uncomfortable around Jay. He was nice enough, and he was a great roommate, so there was that at least. It was a good trade off because the other option was staying at the way too crowded shitty dorms, and he liked the privacy that this deal got him. He wasn't always on board with it, Jake had to talk him into it when high school ended, but he swore him and Jay would be the bestest of friends if only he could let his reservations behind for a little, at least give him a chance.

Sunghoon moved away halfway through the second year of high school, and for a while it felt like Jay had swapped places with him and taken the life he was supposed to live for himself. First his best friend, Jake. Then the girl of his dreams, the one he never found the courage to confess to, you.

Thing is, while Sunghoon could recognize Jay had done absolutely nothing wrong to him per se, he still felt betrayed by him in a way. Truly it was just envy.

The food processor comes to an abrupt halt, and all that can be heard from the other room is a deep sigh, followed by the sound of dragged footsteps as their tall friend walks into the messy—in the way only college boys living spaces can be—living room with resignation. “Fine. But this better have nothing to do with Cheetos or tacos.” 

“Much better.” Jake winks at him, nudging Sunghoon’s hands away with his elbow, the younger hissing in pain. “Behold,” he turns the phone towards an unassuming Jay, aware of the fact he's about to change the older's view of Sunghoon forever.“Sunghoon’s monster of a cock.”

Jay’s hands stop on his apron, (the ridiculous one with a bodybuilder torso and cheetah boxers Jungwon got him for a secret Santa) and his mouth hangs open for a second too long, before he comes back to his senses and notices how Sunghoon slumps back on the couch, cheeks burning red. Jay swats the phone out of Jake’s hand. “What the fuck is your problem, dude.”

“What? I’m just saying it’s way larger than average!”

“He’s uncomfortable.” Jay says, going back to drying his hands on the apron. “Leave him be.”

This only makes Sunghoon’s cheeks redder, his ears a bright pink too. Jake scoffs, eyeing him suspiciously. “Sure. I’m sure having a porn star cock must be so mortifying. Who even complains about stuff like this?” he snickers before making his voice a pitch higher. “‘Poor me! My dick’s too heavy! What will I do!”