#belovedniki

“i just like being here,” he’d say, smiling shy.

sometimes you caught him watching you through the mirror while you worked on someone else. sometimes he’d knock on the supply room door and say he was looking for water. and once, you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper your name under his breath when you passed by.

but you didn’t think much of it.

honestly, you weren’t used to being looked at like that.

so when jake lingered around your chair and stuttered every time you got close, you just assumed he was nervous. maybe shy around staff.

and maybe that’s why, when you finally caught him staring with his thighs pressed tightly together and his face flushed red, it took you a second to realize what you were seeing.

he was hard.

very clearly, very awkwardly hard while sitting in your makeup chair. you’d just been fixing the edge of his eyeliner.

he made a small sound in his throat when your eyes flicked down.

“i—i’m sorry,” he said quickly, panicking. “i didn’t—i mean, i wasn’t trying to—”

“jake?” you blinked, confused, taking a step back. your heart beat fast. was this a joke? was he okay?

“i swear i wasn’t thinking anything weird!” he added, voice pitching. “i just—you were touching me. and you smell nice. and i—i got carried away. i’m sorry, i—i’ll go, i just—”

he scrambled up.

you stared. your cheeks burned.

you didn’t know what to say. didn’t know what you were even thinking. you just knew your brain was short-circuiting and jake was looking at you like he was about to cry.

so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“lock the door.”

he blinked.

“what?”

“lock it.” your voice came out shakier than you meant.

he obeyed.

when you told him to sit back down, you were still figuring out what the hell you were doing.

his hands were trembling on his thighs. he didn’t look at you, even when you moved in front of him.

this was insane. you were his makeup artist. you were at work. and yet—

you stared at his flushed cheeks, his parted lips, the hard line of his cock still straining in his pants.

and something shifted.

“how long have you been thinking about me?”

his eyes finally met yours. wide, glassy. desperate.

“weeks,” he whispered.

“show me.”

he blinked. “w-what?”

“show me how badly you want me.”

you didn’t even know where this confidence was coming from. maybe it was the way jake looked at you like you were some kind of goddess.

maybe it was the heat pulsing between your legs at the thought of making him fall apart.

when you got on your knees in front of him, his breath hitched. “you don’t have to—”

“but you want me to, don’t you?” your voice was soft.

he nodded. fast. “y-yes. please.”

you unbuckled him slowly. your fingers brushed his skin and he trembled.

his cock was hard, flushed, leaking. it twitched when you blew gently over the tip.

you licked a slow stripe from the base up, just watching his head tip back with a whimper. then you took him in, inch by inch.

his thighs trembled beneath your palms.

“fuck—” he whispered, eyes fluttering. “you feel—so good, it’s—”

you sucked him slowly, letting your lips stretch around him. every small moan that spilled from his mouth made your core ache.

“don’t stop,” he whimpered. “please, please don’t stop.”

you deepened your rhythm. his hips jolted forward, then stilled, trying to be good for you. his hands gripped the seat beneath him, knuckles white.

when your eyes flicked up, his mouth dropped open at the sight of you—on your knees, eyes locked with his, lips wrapped around him.

he came suddenly, a soft cry ripped from his chest. you swallowed as much as you could, then pulled back, wiping your mouth.

“sensitive, huh?”

he blushed hard.

days later, he begged to taste you.

“please,” he said, flushed and needy, hands resting on your thighs like he was afraid to grab too hard. “let me make you feel good. i’ll do anything.”

how could you say no to that?

you slid your panties off and guided him to his knees.

his breath caught when you spread your thighs.

“so pretty,” he whispered. then his mouth was on you.

warm. messy. eager.

his tongue flicked and lapped, searching for every spot that made you gasp. his nose brushed your clit and you clenched around nothing.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, breathless. “just like that.”

he whimpered against you. you tugged his hair gently and felt his moan vibrate through you.

he held your thighs like they were the only things keeping him steady. and when you came on his tongue, arching and moaning his name, he only gripped you tighter.

“so good,” he whispered when you pulled him up and kissed him, his lips still shiny with you. “you taste so good.”

he tasted like you, like your slick and sweat and nerves, and he kissed back with a desperation that nearly made you dizzy.

you were still trembling from the way he’d eaten you out. not just with hunger, but with awe. like you were something he had dreamed of for months and finally had the privilege to worship.

“was that okay?” he whispered against your lips, breath warm and uneven.

you blinked, brain still struggling to catch up. you were flushed, panting, legs still weak, but every part of you buzzed. with power. with need. with the growing realization that jake sim had been obsessed with you. and that now, he was yours to ruin.

you pulled back slightly, cradling his jaw.

“we’re not done,” you said softly.

he looked at you like you’d just offered him the whole sky.

“please,” he whispered, already breathless. “anything. anything you want.”

you smiled small, still nervous. but when you grabbed his hand and led him to the full-length mirror across the dressing room, you didn’t let yourself hesitate.

“sit,” you told him, and he obeyed instantly.

the chair was low. you stood above him, chest rising and falling as you began to unbutton your blouse. slowly. letting each one slip open while you watched his reaction.

jake didn’t blink.

his lips parted, eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin like it was a revelation. he reached out hesitantly, but stopped himself.

“you can touch,” you said, your voice low. “but only when i tell you to.”

he groaned softly at that.

when you peeled off the rest of your clothes, slowly, deliberately, leaving you in just your underwear, he looked like he might pass out.

“stand up,” you told him.

he did. his hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white. he was already hard again—so hard it looked painful straining against the fabric of his pants.

you stepped behind him, both of you now facing the mirror. your bare chest pressed against his back, your fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt from behind.

he gasped when your lips brushed his shoulder.

“you’ve been thinking about this,” you murmured. “haven’t you?”

“yes,” he breathed. “all the time.”

you undid his belt next, then slid your hands inside his waistband, slowly easing his pants and boxers down in one go. his cock sprang free—red at the tip, leaking, impossibly hard.

you made a soft noise of appreciation.

“god, jake,” you whispered. “you’re beautiful.”

he let out a shuddered breath, gripping the counter in front of him.

you bent to kiss his neck, trailing slow open-mouthed kisses up the side of his throat. he whimpered at the feeling, his hips jerking forward slightly.

“easy,” you whispered. “we’re just getting started.”

you moved to stand in front of him again, pushing gently on his shoulders.

“sit.”

he dropped into the chair, almost hypnotized.

then you climbed into his lap, knees spread on either side of his thighs, your bare heat hovering just above his cock.

“look in the mirror,” you told him, your voice lower now. confident. “watch what i do to you.”

jake whimpered and obeyed.

your fingers wrapped around his cock and guided it to your entrance. you were soaked, your arousal sticky on his skin. you took a shaky breath, then began to lower yourself.

inch by inch.

his eyes rolled back in the mirror.

“f-fuck—” he gasped, nails digging into the armrests. “you’re—shit, you’re tight—”

“is that a problem?” you teased, breathless, your voice trembling only slightly.

“n-no! it’s—fuck, it’s perfect. you’re perfect. you feel so good, i—” he cut himself off with a moan.

when you bottomed out, you stayed still for a second, overwhelmed by the fullness. his cock pulsed inside you, thick and hot and twitching.

jake was panting, sweat already forming at his temples. “please,” he whispered, “move. please—”

you did.

slowly at first, testing your rhythm. grinding your hips in slow circles, letting your clit drag across his pelvis. every shift made him twitch inside you, made your stomach twist with heat.

“look how pretty you are like this,” you whispered in his ear, eyes flicking to the mirror.

he obeyed, eyes glassy as he watched you ride him.

“being so good for me, jake.”

he gasped—moaned, actually—at the praise.

“do you like that?” you asked softly, fingers tracing his chest.

“yes—yes, fuck—please keep talking—please tell me i’m good—”

you clenched around him hard.

he nearly choked.

“fuck, baby,” you murmured, pace picking up. “you are good. so good. taking me so well. just sitting there and letting me use you.”

his hips jerked. his head fell back.

“you gonna come again?” you whispered. “just from being inside me?”

he whimpered, nodding, barely coherent. “can’t hold it—gonna come, please—”

“do it.”

his whole body trembled.

you felt it when he came, thick spurts inside you, his breath caught in his throat, hands gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles went white. he came hard. too hard.

but you didn’t stop.

not yet.

“w-wait—too much—” he gasped, squirming.

you grabbed his chin, making him look at you in the mirror again.

“you can take it,” you whispered darkly. “you wanted me so bad for so long. you can give me one more.”

you started bouncing again, slow, deliberate. your hands braced on his shoulders, his wrecked cock twitching helplessly inside your overstimulated heat.

“please—fuck, i’ll try, i’ll try—” he babbled.

“you’ll do more than try,” you said, dragging your clit across his pelvis until your eyes fluttered shut. “you’ll be good. like you always are.”

he whined. actually whined. his hands flew to your waist like he couldn’t not touch you.

“that’s it,” you gasped. “hold me—fuck, just like that—”

your orgasm hit hard.

a full-body shake. your back arched, your mouth fell open. you gasped his name, riding out the wave as he whimpered beneath you, cock twitching again like he could barely take it.

you collapsed against his chest, sweat-slick and gasping.

his second orgasm reached him too. his hands gripping you tight, almost crying from pleasure.

for a long moment, neither of you moved.

his arms slowly wrapped around you. tentative. gentle. like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“was that okay?” he asked again, voice hoarse, lips brushing your temple.

you laughed—soft and breathless.

“jake,” you said, kissing him slow, “you just let me fuck you in a dressing room mirror until we both almost passed out.”

“…so… that’s a yes?”

you smiled against his mouth.

“absolutely.”

you didn’t just touch his face; you lingered. you didn’t just apply powder; you focused. lower lip tucked between your teeth, brows knit together in concentration as you tilted his chin up gently with two fingers and said, “look at me.”

and he did. always. every time. eyes wide, throat dry.

he was sure you didn’t mean to be so cruel about it. you were kind—professional. you never noticed how his breath hitched when your thumb brushed his bottom lip to smudge the tint. you never caught how he subtly pressed his thighs together when you leaned over to pat concealer under his eyes, your chest hovering far too close.

you never realized that jake, golden boy jake, practically whimpered in silence for you.

and today?

today was especially bad.

“jaaaaake,” you called playfully as you stepped into the dressing room, makeup belt slung around your waist.

he was already seated, too early, too eager. his knee bounced nervously, eyes darting to your figure as you walked in.

“hey,” he croaked, too quickly.

you smiled. “ready?”

“y-yeah.” his voice cracked. “totally.”

you grabbed a small sponge, clicking open the compact foundation.

jake felt his heart pound harder than before a live stage.

you tilted his chin up again. “close your eyes.”

he obeyed. he always did.

you dabbed gently around his face, humming softly under your breath, completely unaware of the war happening in his head.

fuck, fuck—her hand’s on my jaw. her thumb’s right there. i can smell her shampoo. don’t get hard. don’t twitch. don’t make a sound—

you patted under his eyes and he nearly gasped. you paused, glancing down.

“you okay?”

his eyes opened slowly. wide and watery. “mhm.” he nodded too fast. “y-you’re just really... um... gentle.”

you chuckled. “that’s the point, jakey.”

he melted.

“okay, lips,” you said, uncapping a sheer balm and bringing it toward his mouth.

he parted his lips slightly and watched you. so focused. so close.

“stay still,” you murmured, brushing color on his bottom lip.

jake’s hands clenched the armrests. his pants felt tighter. you didn’t even notice.

“there.” you stood back. “perfect.”

jake stared at you like you hung the moon.

you spun to organize your brushes. “you’re on in twenty. want water?”

jake stood too fast. “i-i’m good, i just—uh—i need the bathroom real quick.”

you didn’t even look up. “okay, but don’t disappear before the stylist comes in.”

he nodded, heart racing. “yeah. yeah. one sec.”

he ran down the hallway, turning the corner to the small, rarely-used staff bathroom with a trembling hand. locked the door. pressed his back to it.

his chest heaved.

she touched me. she touched my mouth.

jake looked down. his cock was already hard, painfully straining against his pants. he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

he tried to resist it. just breathe. calm down. but then he remembered the way you bit your lip when applying the lip balm. the way your fingers brushed his cheek. how you said jakey like it meant something.

“fuck,” he muttered, palming himself through his jeans.

his hand dipped down fast.

it didn’t take long.

he jerked himself off quietly, desperately, biting down on his wrist to keep from moaning. every flick of his wrist was fueled by the memory of your fingers on his face, your soft voice, the smell of your perfume when you leaned in too close. he imagined your lips wrapped around him instead, imagined your gaze turning dark, finally realizing what you did to him, how you ruined him.

and when he came, it was fast, messy, silent—but intense.

he stood there panting, eyes glazed, shame rolling in quickly.

but not enough to make him stop wanting more.

backstage was even worse.

jake sat on the bench, stage mic in his lap, and you kneeled in front of him adjusting the last touch-up on his eyeliner.

your hand rested on his thigh for balance.

jake stared down at you like a man possessed.

you looked up at him with a soft smile. “you’re fidgeting today.”

he blinked. “s-sorry.”

“you okay?”

he swallowed. “you look really pretty.”

your hand froze.

“huh?”

jake’s eyes widened. “i mean—I mean—y-you always look great. just. the eyeliner today. on you. not me. not that i don’t look good—you made me look good. b-but you—um—fuck.”

you laughed. you actually laughed.

“jake,” you said gently, standing up. “that’s sweet.”

you checked his collar, fixing a stray hair near his ear, and leaned in to whisper, “i’m rooting for you. kill it out there, okay?”

he barely managed a nod. “y-yeah.”

he flushed red from neck to ears.

as you walked away, he nearly fell off the bench.

later, after the stage, you found him sitting alone in the makeup room, still in costume, sweaty and dazed.

you grinned. “why are you still in your full outfit?”

jake blinked at you. “didn’t want to leave.”

you tilted your head. “why?”

he looked down. “you weren’t here.”

you laughed, thinking he was being playful.

you didn’t know how serious he was.

you didn’t know that jake had started timing his day around when you were nearby. that he lingered in dressing rooms just to sit where you stood. that he’d started taking pictures of his face after your touch-ups just to remember how your hands moved over him. that he jacked off in the bathroom to the scent of your perfume more times than he could count.

you didn’t know he dreamt of more than your brushes against his skin. that he wanted to pin you against the mirror and kiss you breathless, make you see what he saw.

you didn’t know. but he’d make sure you did, eventually.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW if you liked it so I can move onto the next part! (smut).

jungwon always thought he was good at self-control.

disciplined. respectful. patient.

and that mattered even more when it came to you.

you’d always been around. his little sister’s best friend. younger, soft-spoken, bright-eyed. he remembered you trailing behind them when you were younger, asking questions during homework, calling him “wonnie” like it was nothing.

but you weren’t a kid anymore.

now you had sharp little smirks when you teased. you leaned against doorways in tank tops and made quiet jokes under your breath. you weren’t obvious—not the way you looked at him, not the way you smiled just a little too long. but he saw it. and it scared the hell out of him how much he wanted it.

he tried to ignore it. he never stayed in the room alone with you. never let himself look for too long. but he noticed everything—how you laughed at his dry jokes, how you started calling him by just his name now, how your legs touched his when you all sat on the floor playing board games.

he felt guilty even thinking it. he was older. and worse, he was your best friend’s brother.

but you never really made it easy for him.

like tonight.

his sister was out, your plans got canceled, and you stayed longer than usual. jungwon figured you’d kill time in the living room or play games on your phone. but you wandered into his room instead, curling up on the edge of his bed like it was nothing.

he glanced up from his desk, blinking. “you need something?”

“no,” you said, smiling. “just waiting.”

he cleared his throat, trying not to look at your bare legs tucked under you. “you’re not even pretending to act normal anymore.”

you tilted your head. “what do you mean?”

he gave you a look, then looked away again. “you know what i mean.”

you were quiet for a second, then asked softly, “why do you keep avoiding me?”

that made him freeze.

you sat up a little straighter. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” he said immediately. “you didn’t. i’m just trying not to be... stupid.”

“stupid how?”

he didn’t answer. not at first. but something in your eyes made it spill.

“you’re my sister’s best friend,” he muttered. “you’re younger. i shouldn’t even be thinking about you like this.”

you were so quiet he almost regretted saying it.

then—

“but you do?”

he looked at you, and that was the end of it.

you moved toward him slowly, steps light, every second dragging like you were giving him time to stop you. but he didn’t move. not when you stood in front of him. not when your fingers slid up his arms. not even when you leaned in and whispered, “i want you to let me.”

“let you what?”

you dropped to your knees between his legs.

“let me take care of you.”

jungwon’s breath stuttered.

“you don’t have to touch me,” you added quickly. “just—just let me do this. once.”

he hesitated. you could feel the tension in him, the quiet guilt still stuck in his chest—but you also saw the way his eyes darkened as you brushed your hand over his thigh.

“please,” you whispered, “i’ve wanted to for so long.”

his voice was soft when he finally answered. “this is a bad idea.”

you kissed the inside of his thigh. “i don’t care.”

his head tipped back as your fingers pulled at his waistband, slowly freeing him from his sweats. he was already hard—just from the thought of you on your knees.

you wrapped your hand around him, kissed the tip.

“fuck,” he whispered, already wrecked.

you took your time. slow licks up his length, warm and wet and patient. you didn’t rush. just let him fall apart, hands trembling in your hair, thighs tense under your touch.

“you feel s-so good,” he choked out. “so fucking soft—”

you moaned around him, tongue pressing flat along the underside as you sucked gently, taking more and more until his hips twitched up.

“baby,” he gasped. “you’re too good at this—fuck, don’t stop.”

you kept going until he was shaking, breath breaking in your ear, thighs trembling.

“i’m gonna cum—i’m—fuck—”

he spilled into your mouth with a choked moan, pulling your hair back gently to look at your face. you swallowed, still holding eye contact, licking your lips.

jungwon looked dazed. guilty. blown open.

“…what the fuck did we just do?”

you smiled softly. “whatever it was, we’re not done yet.”

you leaned in again, resting your cheek against his thigh, lips brushing the base of his cock. he was still breathing hard, chest rising and falling like he was trying to come down.

but then—

a car door slammed outside.

you both froze.

a second later, your phone buzzed on the floor.

you scrambled to grab it and read the message:

“outside :) tell jungwon i’m bringing snacks!!”

his sister.

your eyes widened. jungwon stood immediately, tucking himself back in, yanking his sweats up like he’d been burned. you both moved in silence, no words, just panic and shallow breaths and red cheeks.

you wiped your mouth with your sleeve. he didn’t look at you.

“get the door,” he said quickly, voice flat. “i’ll go to the living room.”

and just like that—

it was like nothing happened.

but it did.

and you both knew it.

it had been almost two weeks.

two weeks of silence. of avoiding eye contact. of pretending like you hadn’t gotten on your knees in front of him and made him cum so hard he saw white.

jungwon hadn’t said a word since. not a message. not a glance.

you saw him in the hallway once when you came over—he turned the other way.

it burned. not because you were ashamed—far from it. but because he looked like he was trying to forget it. like he regretted it. and you couldn’t stop wondering if you’d pushed too far. if he hated you now.

so when your best friend ran to the store to grab snacks and jungwon passed by the living room, pausing just long enough to look at you, your heart jumped into your throat.

he didn’t say anything.

just tilted his head slightly toward the hallway.

and walked away.

you didn’t think. you followed.

your footsteps were soft against the wooden floor. you barely had time to close the bedroom door behind you before he turned to face you.

his expression was unreadable. unreadable, but intense.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” you said softly, standing near the door.

“i had to,” he muttered. “you think i haven’t been losing my mind over it?”

you blinked. “then why—?”

“because if i let myself think about it,” he interrupted, stepping closer, “i’ll want more.”

you didn’t move.

“and if i want more,” he said, voice lower now, “i won’t stop.”

your breath caught. “then don’t.”

he stared at you. something in him cracked.

he walked you backward until your thighs hit the edge of his bed. he didn’t kiss you, not yet. just looked at you like he was trying to memorize the moment before it all went wrong.

“say it,” he murmured.

you tilted your chin up. “i want more.”

he exhaled sharply. “fuck.”

his hands were on your waist, his mouth finally on yours—hot, desperate, but still careful. he pushed you gently onto the mattress, hovering above you, one hand cupping your cheek.

“are you sure?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, breathing hard. “i’ve always been sure.”

that was all it took.

he kissed down your neck slowly, tasting every inch. your hands tugged at his shirt until he pulled it off, revealing his toned chest, warm and flushed. he looked so soft and pretty, even when his eyes were blown black with need.

he carefully removed your top, lingering his fingers above your breasts, gently squeezing one of them.

you reached for his waistband. he caught your hand and kissed your palm, then lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, legs spread.

“come here.”

you moved until you were kneeling between his thighs again. gently removed his boxers—his cock bouncing freely against his abdomen.

his hand slid into your hair gently. “i haven’t stopped thinking about your mouth.”

you leaned in without hesitation, licking slowly along the underside of his length as he twitched in your grip.

jungwon’s head fell back, breath hitching. “god—still so good.”

you wrapped your lips around him, sinking lower, using your spit to coat him completely. your pace was slow at first, teasing, letting him feel every inch of you.

his thighs trembled. his hand tightened in your hair.

“fuck, baby—your mouth is perfect.”

you moaned around him, and he groaned deep in his throat, his hips jerking slightly. he tried to stay still, tried to let you take your time, but he was desperate now. panting, mouth open, eyes fluttering shut.

“don’t stop,” he begged, voice breaking. “please—please, keep going.”

you sucked harder, faster, twisting your wrist just the way he liked until he was whimpering.

“i’m gonna cum—shit—fuck, i’m gonna—”

he came with a gasp, hips jerking off the bed, cock pulsing in your mouth. you swallowed everything, not even blinking.

when you looked up, he was flushed and breathless, pupils blown wide.

“…i missed you,” he said softly.

you crawled into his lap and kissed him, slow and deep.

“then don’t ignore me again.”

jungwon rested his forehead against yours, smiling a little.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice rough and low, lips brushing your jaw.

“too perfect for me to keep waiting.”

he pushed you back gently onto the bed, eyes never leaving yours as he slid his hands down your sides, removed your shorts and underwear, then cupped your thighs.

you parted them instinctively, the heat between your legs blossoming.

his mouth followed, lips trailing slow, worshipful kisses from your collarbone down to the swell of your breasts.

he paused to flick his tongue over a nipple, making you gasp.

“fuck, you’re amazing,” he breathed, nipping gently before moving lower.

his hands tangled in your hair as his mouth moved over your skin, warm and insistent.

you felt the soft flick of his tongue along your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and uneven.

“so good,” he murmured against you, “so fucking good.”

your fingers twined in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue dipped inside you, exploring with delicate pressure and patience.

“jungwon,” you moaned, hips pressing into his mouth, desperate for more.

he hummed, sliding one finger inside you, slow and steady.

“you’re so tight, so wet for me,” he groaned, “i could worship you forever.”

you arched your back, melting beneath his touch, the ache inside you growing unbearable.

finally, he pulled back, lips glistening, eyes dark with want.

“now,” he said softly, stroking himself—hard, flushed, aching for you.

he kissed you again, slower this time, before positioning himself at your entrance.

“ready?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

you nodded, heart racing.

he pushed in slowly—inch by inch—until he was buried completely, your walls stretching to fit him, your legs wrapped around his waist like instinct.

a gasp left your throat, and jungwon stilled, panting against your skin.

“you’re perfect,” he whispered, hips stilling for a moment to let you adjust.

then, he began to move—slow, deep thrusts that made you clutch his shoulders.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice strained. “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

your hands found his neck, pulling him down to kiss you hard as he picked up the pace, thrusting with growing urgency.

“you’re mine,” he growled, “only mine.”

your breath hitched as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“you take me so well, baby. such a good girl.”

your eyes fluttered closed, head falling back against the pillows. you could feel him trembling above you, like he was struggling to control himself.

he pulled back and thrust in again—slow, deep, perfectly angled to hit that soft spot inside you. your back arched as he set a pace, steady but rough, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every push.

“fuck—jungwon—”

he grabbed your thigh, pulling it higher, fucking into you harder now, his moans low and breathless.

“you feel unreal,” he groaned, watching your face twist with pleasure. “like you were made for me.”

you clenched around him, and he hissed, lowering his mouth to your throat. his lips trailed down your collarbone, then over your breasts, biting gently at the soft skin.

“how long were you waiting for me?” he asked, voice muffled against your chest.

you could barely breathe. “too long.”

“me too,” he said, thrusting deeper. “kept thinking about your mouth—your body—how good you’d look under me.”

he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, hips snapping into yours. the rhythm was messy now, wet and desperate and filthy. your moans were getting louder—his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“don’t stop,” you begged, eyes shining. “please—don’t stop.”

he didn’t.

he let go of your wrists and pulled your body flush against his, wrapping one arm around your waist as he fucked up into you from below.

the angle made you sob—your nails dug into his back, your body trembling, heat pooling low in your stomach.

“wanna feel you cum on me,” he panted, “need it—wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

you whined, so close you couldn’t form words, just shaking as his fingers slipped down and rubbed tight circles on your clit.

your climax hit like lightning—your whole body arching, pulsing around him, gasping out his name again and again.

“there it is,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “that’s it, baby—just like that.”

he didn’t last much longer.

your fluttering around his cock sent him spiraling—his hips stuttered, and he let out a loud, broken moan as he came inside you, hips jerking, arms trembling.

“fuck—fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “feels so fucking good inside you.”

he stayed there for a moment—his body heavy over yours, skin warm and damp, breaths shallow.

you ran your fingers through his hair, both of you completely undone.

“you okay?” he whispered after a beat.

you smiled softly. “i’ve never been better.”

jungwon lifted his head, eyes half-lidded and affectionate.

“i think i’m in trouble.”

you tilted your head. “why?”

“because i’m never gonna stop wanting this.”

you moved in on a sunday.

sunghoon remembers because he hated sundays. they were still, too bright, too loud with the noise of families or couples or whatever happy shit the world insisted on parading in front of him.

but you? you were different.

you moved into the apartment directly in front from his. same floor. doors aligned. and from the second he saw you, he knew he was screwed.

he tried not to care. tried to be normal. nod when you passed in the hallway or the small yard that separated you, where wet clothes were normally hung. ignore how your perfume lingered. how your voice traveled through paper-thin walls and settled into his skin like heat.

but then you started leaving your blinds cracked. sometimes on purpose—sometimes not.

it didn’t matter.

sunghoon started watching.

not obsessively, he told himself. not creepily. just… curiously. how your lips looked when you were tired. how you walked barefoot to your kitchen at 2am. how you never seemed to care who was watching you pull your shirt over your head.

except maybe you did care.

because one night, you looked right at him. across the narrow yard. lights still on in your room, eyes meeting his through the glass.

you didn’t cover up.

you smirked.

and since then, sunghoon's grip on restraint has been paper-thin.

you always greeted him like nothing was wrong. like you didn’t know he was a little too quiet around you. like you didn’t see the way his eyes dipped to your mouth before snapping back up, guilty and angry at himself for letting it show.

you called him cold once. smirking as you leaned against your doorframe, licking cherry off your thumb like you didn’t know what it did to him.

“you're impossible to read,” you said. “do you hate me or just everyone in general?”

sunghoon had scoffed. muttered something about “not caring.”

you’d smiled, teeth biting your straw. “sure you don’t.”

he shut the door before you could see the twitch in his jaw.

it gets worse after that.

you start showing up more. laundry room. lobby. bumping into him like it’s coincidence. always in those tiny shorts. always in crop tops that show the curves of your waist and the tops of your thighs.

you bend a little too far. you glance a little too long. you say “sunghoon” like it’s a game.

and eventually, it clicks.

you know.

you know what you do to him.

and you love it.

sunghoon tries to hold out. he really does.

he fucks his fist in the dark, biting your name into his pillow, refusing to open his blinds. he ignores your texts, avoids the elevator if you’re in it, grits his teeth when he hears your laugh through the wall.

but one night, he breaks.

you're walking up the stairs as he’s coming down. it’s late. you’re wearing one of those skirts. your lips are shiny. you’re chewing gum like you want to be ruined.

“hey, neighbour,” you tease, slow and sticky.

he stares.

“not gonna talk to me again?” you pout. “you know, you’re no fun lately. makes me wonder if you’re even thinking about me anymore.”

his jaw ticks.

“you think i don’t notice?” you go on, stepping closer. “your lights on when i undress. how you flinch when i say your name. you’re a really bad liar, sunghoon.”

he says nothing.

you tilt your head, playing innocent. “so? are you gonna keep being mean to me, or—”

“get inside,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“your place. now. if you’re gonna act like a slut, then be one.”

your mouth parts. something flutters in your stomach.

and then you turn around and unlock your door.

your back hits the wall the second it shuts.

sunghoon’s mouth crashes to yours, all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up tension breaking at once.

“fucking brat,” he growls, biting your lower lip. “always parading around like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

you moan into his mouth, hands clawing at his shirt.

“you know what i think about?” he breathes, pressing his knee between your thighs. “every night? this. your fucking mouth. how good you’d look ruined for me.”

you whimper, grinding against him.

“such a pathetic little thing,” he sneers. “you like teasing me? like walking around like you’re not begging to be fucked?”

“sunghoon—”

“shut up.”

his hand wraps around your throat—not tight, just enough to make you still.

“you had your fun, right?” he whispers. “being a cocky little tease. now you’re gonna take what you asked for.”

you nod quickly. “yes—please—”

“pathetic,” he smirks. “dumb little thing doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.”

he drags you to your room. throws you onto the bed.

“on your knees,” he says.

you obey.

he stands in front of you, hard in his sweats, glaring down at you with dark, hooded eyes.

“open.”

you do. he spits.

it hits your tongue hot and filthy, and you moan like you’ve been starved.

“god, you’re such a slut,” he mutters. “who moans from spit?”

you swallow and look up at him, eyes wide. “me.”

he chuckles—low and dangerous.

“of course you do. you’d probably cum if i called you my dumb little toy, huh?”

your breath stutters.

he grabs your chin. “is that what you want?”

“yes,” you gasp.

“you want to be my dumb little toy?”

“please—please, hoon—”

he cuts you off by pushing you back onto the bed again.

“take your clothes off. want to see what’s been making me insane.”

you strip quickly, and his eyes trail over you like he’s memorizing every inch.

“fuck,” he growls. “look at you. wet already? just from me talking down to you?”

you nod. “i can’t help it.”

“no,” he smirks. “you can’t. because you’re mine now.”

he pushes your legs open and drops to his knees.

"wanna taste you while you beg,” he says, fingers teasing your folds. “think you can do that for me, slut?”

you nod frantically.

and then his mouth is on you.

tongue hot and skilled, lips sucking your clit just right, two fingers curling inside you perfectly.

he eats you like he’s starving. like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

you sob his name. he moans against you.

“you gonna cum already?” he teases. “barely even started. so fucking weak.”

your hands grip the sheets. your thighs shake.

he sucks harder.

“say it,” he commands. “say you're my slut.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry. “i’m your dumb little slut—”

you cum hard, stars behind your eyes, shaking under his mouth.

he doesn’t stop.

another wave crashes through you. overstimulation sharp and searing, and he just keeps going.

“too much—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he growls. “you’re mine. you’ll take every fucking thing i give you.”

when he finally pulls away, your body’s twitching, slick and messy.

he flips you over.

“look at yourself,” he whispers, dragging you to the mirror. “look how fucked out you are already.”

you stare, barely recognizing yourself.

“you ready for my cock now, slut?” he asks, stroking himself.

you nod desperately.

he slides into you slow. deep.

you moan, loud and broken.

“tight,” he groans. “this pussy was made for me.”

he fucks you hard—fast, deep thrusts that shake the bed and leave you breathless.

“so fucking loud,” he grits. “do you want the whole building to know who’s fucking you stupid?”

“yes—yes, let them hear—”

“god, you're disgusting,” he spits. “fucking creaming on me like a brainless little whore.”

you clench tighter.

“fuck,” he growls. “you like that? being called my little fucktoy?”

you nod, barely coherent. “yes—please—more—”

he pounds into you harder.

“mine,” he growls. “my slut. my pathetic little brat. say it.”

"yours—yours—yours—"

you cum again, harder than before. he follows right after, buried deep, hips stuttering.

you collapse forward, trembling.

he pulls you back into his chest, lips brushing your neck.

“not done with you,” he whispers. “not even close.”

his breath is warm against your neck, the words sinking into your skin like a promise.

your thighs are still trembling. your sheets are a mess. you’re still catching your breath when he grabs your jaw and turns your head toward him.

“look at me.”

you do. eyes glazed, lips parted.

he smiles. slow. mean.

“so dumb already. barely even fucked you right.”

you whimper when he presses two fingers to your swollen clit again.

“don’t start whining now. you wanted this, remember? teased me for months.”

you nod weakly, but he’s already flipping you back onto your stomach.

“up. knees.”

you obey on instinct, arching for him, cheeks burning as the slick between your legs drips down your thighs.

sunghoon groans behind you, low and guttural. like he’s losing his mind.

“look at this fucking pussy. soaking. open. greedy.”

you hear him stroke himself once, twice.

then:

“say you want more.”

“i want more.” your voice is thin, needy. “please, sunghoon—”

his hand comes down hard on your ass.

smack.

you jolt forward, gasp caught in your throat.

“wrong,” he says. “try again.”

your skin tingles.

“…please, daddy—”

he slams back into you.

you scream.

“that’s better,” he growls. “knew you were just a dumb little thing. needed to be reminded how to talk.”

his hips slap against you again and again, brutal and relentless.

you press your face into the sheets, biting down a moan as he fucks you even deeper than before.

“you feel that?” he pants. “this cock ruining your pussy? stretching you open like you’re made for me?”

you can’t even answer. your whole body is shaking. your walls flutter around him like they’re begging to be filled again.

“you are made for me, slut. mine.”

his hand slides into your hair, yanking your head back.

“say it.”

“i’m yours—fuck—i’m yours, daddy, i’m your dumb little whore—”

he snarls and fucks you harder.

“you don’t get to act like you’re better than me anymore. all that cocky bullshit? gone.”

he lets go of your hair, presses a hand flat to your lower back, holding you down.

“this is where you belong. on your knees, drooling over my cock.”

you’re drooling, actually–spit soaking the pillow. and sunghoon sees it.

“fuck, look at you,” he groans. “so fucking messy. my pathetic little slut.”

his fingers tangle in your hair again. “open your mouth.”

you obey.

he leans over you, chest on your back, cock buried deep, and lets spit fall onto your tongue.

“swallow it,” he hisses.

you do.

he moans.

“fuck. you’re disgusting. my disgusting little toy.”

you clench hard. he feels it.

“god—you liked that?”

“i’m close—i’m so close, please—”

he pulls out.

you cry out at the loss.

“get on your back.”

you flip over instantly. he’s on top of you in a second, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“need to see your face when you fall apart,” he pants.

he slips inside again. slower now, but just as deep.

you’re so sensitive it hurts. but it’s perfect.

“look at you,” he says. “crying from being fucked. do you even remember how this started?”

his voice is low and cruel.

“i couldn’t even breathe around you. and now look.”

he thrusts deep. you sob.

“now you’re begging me to break you.”

“please—i want it, i want all of it—”

he lets go of your wrists, and his hand finds your throat instead.

not choking, just there. firm. possessive.

“cum for me, slut,” he commands. “show me who you belong to.”

your body obeys before your brain does, white heat tearing through you, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you clench around him again.

he fucks you through it, not stopping. not letting up.

“yes,” he growls. “yes, that’s it. good fucking girl. my perfect little mess.”

you’re sobbing now, mindless, wrecked.

he grabs your face and kisses you, filthy, desperate, possessive.

and then he cums, hard, deep, holding you down while he fills you up.

for a long moment, there’s only panting. sweat. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

your body is twitching.

your legs ache. your throat burns from how much you begged. your skin is sticky with sweat, spit, and more.

but you feel warm. safe. his weight on top of you is grounding. his breathing is steady against your neck.

“you okay?” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

you nod, eyes fluttering shut.

“mhm.”

he doesn’t move. just kisses your jaw. then your temple. then your collarbone.

“hurts anywhere?”

you shake your head. “no. just sore.”

sunghoon slowly pulls out, making you whimper, and you feel his cum trickle down your thighs. he curses under his breath at the sight.

but this time, he doesn’t tease you.

“stay,” he whispers, disappearing into the bathroom.

you blink, dazed, watching the ceiling.

a moment later, he returns with a warm, damp towel.

and the gentlest hands.

he kneels between your legs, cleaning you slowly. carefully. like he’s afraid of hurting you.

his brows are furrowed in concentration. you smile.

“you’re being nice,” you murmur.

his eyes flick up.

“shut up.”

you giggle softly, and he exhales like he hates how much he likes that sound.

when he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and leans over you, brushing hair from your face.

“you scared me,” he says after a beat. “thought i lost it.”

you tilt your head.

“you didn’t.”

he nods, more to himself.

“…you can tell me to stop next time.”

you reach for his hand.

“i know.”

silence stretches. his fingers curl around yours.

“i meant it,” he says eventually.

you blink. “meant what?”

his eyes darken again. not lust, something deeper.

“you’re mine now.”

you grin.

“been yours. took you long enough to do something about it.”

he rolls his eyes.

“you’re unbearable.”

“you love it.”

he doesn’t deny it.

instead, he pulls you into his chest and drapes the blanket over both of you. your head rests against his shoulder; his arm wraps around your waist.

he kisses your hair.

“sleep.”

you smile, soft and hazy.

“you gonna stay?”

sunghoon doesn’t answer.

he just pulls you closer, and doesn’t let go.

the dorm was alive with noise, too much energy for the late hour. someone had suggested hide and seek in the dark—sunoo, probably—and the others latched on immediately. the living room lights were switched off, leaving only the faint glow from the street filtering in through the curtains.

“thirty… twenty-nine…” heeseung’s voice rang out from the center of the apartment, his tone playful but already sharp, like he meant business.

you scrambled out of the room along with the others, your laughter stifled by the thrill of the game. you hadn’t done something like this in years, but there was something about the mix of darkness, hushed laughter, and footsteps creaking over wood that sent your pulse racing.

just as you reached the hall, a hand caught yours. you were tugged sideways before you could react, pulled into a narrow alcove next to the laundry room.

“shh.”

the whisper brushed your ear, low and commanding. ni-ki’s tall frame pressed close, his arm braced on the wall beside your head. your back hit the wall softly, your breath catching when you realized how close he was.

“you’re gonna get us caught,” he added, though there was a smile hidden in his voice.

your chest rose and fell too fast, and you whispered back, “you scared me.”

in the dim light, you could just barely make out his grin. “couldn’t let you hide without me.”

footsteps creaked down the hall, and both of you fell silent. you could hear jake muffling laughter somewhere in the kitchen, jungwon whispering harshly at someone to be quiet. the air in your tiny hiding spot was heavy, thick with the quiet tension of being so close.

ni-ki’s shoulder brushed yours, his chest pressing against you with every careful inhale. his hand hadn’t left your side, his thumb tracing idle circles at your waist.

time stretched. heeseung’s voice called out again, closer now.

“ready or not, i’m coming to get you.”

you swallowed, forcing your breathing quiet, but ni-ki leaned in until his lips nearly brushed your ear.

“funny,” he murmured. “feels more like i’ve already caught you.”

your head snapped toward him, intending to glare, but you only succeeded in closing the distance between your faces. in the sliver of moonlight, you saw his eyes flick down to your mouth before dragging back up to meet your gaze.

the teasing smirk faltered, replaced with something more raw. his voice was lower this time, almost reverent.

“you’re so pretty.”

your stomach flipped violently. “ni-ki…”

“been wanting to say that for a while.” his forehead tipped against yours, his breath warm as he whispered, “you’re perfect.”

the words disarmed you. in the middle of a silly game, with your friends scattered around the dorm, he said it like a confession.

you didn’t answer. instead, you leaned the last inch forward and kissed him.

it was clumsy at first, urgent and muffled by the fear of being overheard. but when he cupped your face in his hands, the kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with desperate need. his groan vibrated low in his chest, swallowed between your lips.

“god,” he whispered when he broke away for a breath, his voice shaking. “you taste so good.”

his words lit something in you, the praise seeping deep as his hands slid down your sides, steady but trembling at the edges. your back arched under his touch, pressing yourself closer, and he shuddered, whispering again against your skin.

“i can’t believe this is real.”

his mouth trailed kisses down your jaw, across your throat, each one paired with more quiet, feverish praise.

outside, sunghoon cursed loudly as he was caught, followed by jake’s muffled laugh. the game continued, but in the little alcove, the world had narrowed to the heat of ni-ki’s lips, the way he whispered against your pulse like you were the only thing that mattered.

when he lifted you suddenly, guiding your legs around his waist, you gasped softly into his mouth. pressed against the wall, his body firm under yours, you felt him trembling slightly as he whispered, “you fit so perfectly against me.”

your nails dug into his shoulders, biting back a sound you couldn’t risk making. he kissed you harder to swallow it down, groaning softly as his hips pressed into yours with a need he was barely containing.

“so good,” he kept murmuring, over and over like a mantra. “you’re so good for me.”

and when you finally let go in his arms, your body arching helplessly against his, his lips never stopped praising you, never stopped whispering every word he’d been holding back.

ni-ki’s mouth trailed up your neck, catching your earlobe between his teeth before whispering, breathless, “don’t know how i’m supposed to stop. not when you feel this good. not when you’re mine.”

you pulled him back into another kiss, swallowing the sound of his moan, your fingers fisted in his shirt. every second felt dangerous, like the whole dorm could hear the way your breathing hitched, the quiet friction of your bodies pressed too close.

“so good,” he murmured again, like he needed to remind himself it was real. “you’re everything i want.”

the words cracked something open in you, but before you could answer—before you could even breathe—there were footsteps. heavier this time. closer.

you froze.

his lips hovered over yours, both of you listening.

“…i swear i heard something over here,” sunoo’s voice drifted down the hallway, followed by the shuffle of feet.

ni-ki’s grip on you tightened. his eyes darted toward the door, then back to you, his breath ragged but silent now. the air between you turned razor-sharp, every second stretching unbearably.

the doorknob rattled.

your heart lurched.

ni-ki pressed his forehead to yours, whispering so softly you almost didn’t catch it. “don’t move. please. stay quiet for me.”

the handle turned slowly, and light cracked into the dark. you held your breath, pressed tighter against ni-ki. his heartbeat pounded against your chest, and for one dizzy second, you thought you’d both been found. then the door shut again, footsteps fading. ni-ki let out a shaky laugh, whispering against your lips, “too close.”

your voice carries through the apartment, soft, laughing at something jay says, unaware of the way it makes heeseung’s stomach twist. he doesn't even look up at first. just clenches his jaw, shifts on the couch, tells himself to ignore it.

you’re not his.

you're jay’s.

his best friend’s.

and that’s supposed to mean something.

“heeseung, want some?” your voice floats toward the kitchen, sweet and warm, offering him a bite of something you made. maybe cookies. maybe something stupid and pink.

he shouldn’t get up.

but he does.

and when he walks in, you're already holding out the spoon, smiling at him like you’ve never made anyone feel insane.

he blinks.

you blink back, still waiting.

he swallows and leans in. takes the bite. doesn’t taste it.

your lips are too close. the smell of your shampoo burns into his memory. your fingers brush his, and he has to will his body not to flinch. not to show that you’ve already taken up way too much space inside him.

“it’s good, right?” you ask, oblivious.

heeseung nods once. grunts something like yeah. doesn’t look you in the eye.

you beam like he gave you a real compliment. “jay said it was too sweet, but—”

“he’s wrong,” heeseung cuts in.

you smile wider. “so you do like sweet things.”

his jaw tightens. “only when they know when to shut up.”

you laugh, thinking it’s a joke.

he doesn’t laugh.

not even close.

it gets worse when you're alone.

jay disappears to take a call, and suddenly it’s just you and heeseung in the living room, your knees tucked under you, his eyes glued to the tv but not watching.

you shift. your shirt rides up just slightly.

he sees skin he shouldn’t.

he looks away.

and looks again.

“you’re quiet today,” you say softly.

he shrugs. doesn’t answer.

you lean closer. your knee bumps his. your perfume sinks into his lungs. you talk like you don’t notice the heat in his stare, like you don’t feel the way his body coils tighter the longer he’s near you.

“you okay?” you ask.

“fine.”

“you sure? you look…tense.”

he looks at you then. sharp. like you’ve said something you shouldn't.

you blink, confused. “what?”

heeseung opens his mouth, then shuts it.

don’t say it.

don’t say it.

don’t tell her you wake up hard because of her voice.

don’t tell her you can’t sleep unless you jerk off with her name in your mouth.

don’t tell her she’s the reason you can’t look jay in the eye anymore.

“nothing,” he mutters.

but his voice is rougher than before. strained. a little too low.

you tilt your head, still smiling. still innocent.

and he breaks.

“don’t look at me like that.”

your smile fades, confused. “like what?”

heeseung doesn’t answer.

he just gets up and leaves.

because if he doesn’t, he’ll do something he can’t take back.

you notice the change before you understand it.

heeseung used to at least look at you, sideways glances when he thought you weren’t watching, little eye rolls when you teased him, dry comments that made jay laugh and you giggle.

now? he doesn’t even speak.

you walk into the room and he leaves. you ask a question and he shrugs it off. every now and then, you catch him watching, his jaw locked tight, but the second your eyes meet, he looks away like you disgust him.

and maybe you should let it go.

but you don’t.

because something in his silence makes your stomach twist, makes your hands clammy, makes you feel like he’s angry for reasons you don’t understand.

you bring it up once, nervous, tentative, alone in the kitchen.

“heeseung… did i do something?”

he’s sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone like you’re not there.

you wait. silence.

“have i made you uncomfortable or something?”

his hand freezes.

you blink. “because if i crossed a line—”

“you didn’t,” he says, still not looking up.

“then what is it?” your voice is small. “you won’t even talk to me anymore.”

he scoffs quietly, setting his phone down.

and finally, he looks up.

his eyes are tired. dark. sharp like broken glass.

“you think i’m ignoring you because you annoyed me?”

you swallow. “didn’t you just say—?”

“jesus,” he mutters, standing too fast. “you really don’t see it.”

he’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair like he can’t think straight. and something in his voice is unraveling, low, rough, shaking with restraint.

“every time i walk in here, you’re sitting on my best friend’s lap. wearing his hoodie. whispering shit in his ear like i can’t fucking hear it.”

you blink. frozen. “what—?”

heeseung stops. looks at you.

“you really don’t get it.”

you feel your breath catch. something in your chest stutters.

“heeseung—”

“don’t say my name like that,” he growls, stepping closer.

you back into the counter.

“you wanna know why i’ve been ignoring you?” he asks, voice low and angry now. “it’s because every time you smile at me like that, every time you say my name, every fucking time you sit too close, i wanna take you in my mouth and make you forget his.”

your heart’s racing. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. your head’s spinning.

heeseung leans in, hands on either side of the counter behind you.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes. “none.”

your voice breaks. “you’re—you’re his best friend—”

“i know,” he snaps.

“you’re not supposed to—”

“i know,” he says again, like it hurts. “you think i want this?”

you don’t speak.

because the look in his eyes says it all: he does.

and when his eyes flick to your lips, your chest, back to your eyes—you know you do too.

his hand brushes your hip. just a test.

you don’t stop him.

his voice dips lower, closer.

“say the word,” he whispers, “and i’ll back off. i’ll leave right now. i’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

your breath shudders out of you. your pulse roars in your ears.

but you don’t say the word.

he watches you for one more second. two.

and then he kisses you.

not soft. not gentle.

like he’s been starving for it.

he kisses you like he’s making up for every second he’s had to watch you be someone else’s. it’s desperate and angry and messy, all tongue and teeth, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. your back hits the counter, his thigh pushes between yours, and your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer even though you know you shouldn’t.

you gasp into his mouth when his hands slide under your top, rough palms on your soft stomach, sliding up slowly.

“you think i haven’t dreamed about this every night?” he growls, lips brushing your cheek, jaw, neck. “you think i haven’t heard you moan his name while i pretended it was mine?”

your breath hitches.

his fingers dig into your hips as he presses you back harder.

“you have no idea how many times i almost snapped,” he murmurs against your throat. “you’d smile at me, just like that, and i’d have to go jerk off in your fucking bathroom.”

your knees buckle.

heeseung laughs, dark, breathless, and scoops you up like you weigh nothing. you yelp, legs wrapping instinctively around him as he carries you to the couch and drops you onto the cushions.

“you look good here,” he mutters, kneeling between your legs. “better than he ever deserved.”

“heeseung—”

“shh.” he pulls your shorts down slowly, kissing each inch of skin he reveals. “let me taste what he’s wasted.”

you’re shaking now—part nerves, part adrenaline, part unbearable heat.

and when his mouth touches you, it’s like nothing else exists.

his tongue is slow at first, long licks up your folds, barely grazing your clit, dragging whimpers from your throat. he holds your thighs apart with his hands, firm but careful, like he’s keeping you open for himself alone.

“fuck,” he groans against you. “you taste like everything i ever wanted.”

your hands fly to his hair, your hips rolling into his mouth. heeseung grins and wraps his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer, deeper onto his tongue.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, lips dragging over your clit. “grind on my face, baby. i want it all.”

you moan. high-pitched, broken, filthy.

he sucks on your clit suddenly, hard and deep, and you cry out, thighs trembling.

“gonna cum already?” he teases. “didn’t even put a finger in you yet.”

“heeseung—i—”

“say it,” he whispers, voice low and thick with hunger. “say it’s mine. this pussy. these sounds. all of it.”

“fuck—yes—yours—”

that’s all he needed.

he slides two fingers into you, slow but unrelenting, curling them just right as his tongue returns to your clit. you arch off the couch, crying out, gripping his hair so tight he groans.

and then you break.

it crashes over you like a wave, your body clenching around his fingers, your thighs trembling, your mouth open and silent until your voice finally tears out of your throat.

heeseung doesn’t stop.

he lets you ride it out, licking through your orgasm until you’re twitching beneath him.

but when you try to sit up, dazed and weak, he pushes you back down.

“we’re not done,” he says, voice darker than before.

“what—?”

“you think i waited this long for one taste?”

you don’t get a chance to respond before he’s moving, lifting you from the couch, carrying you to the mirror on the wall behind the hallway door.

he sets you down, turns you to face your reflection.

you stare flushed, ruined, lips swollen, hair a mess.

heeseung stands behind you, hard cock pressed to your ass, hands sliding up your bare sides.

“look how pretty you are,” he says, dragging his lips over your ear. “and all for me.”

you whimper, grinding against him instinctively.

“you gonna take it for me now?” he growls. “gonna let me fuck you like i’ve been dreaming?”

you nod, barely able to speak.

heeseung smirks, and then he slides into you, slow and deep.

you cry out, head falling forward, but he grabs your chin and tilts it up.

“no,” he says. “watch. i want you to see what i look like when i’m inside you.”

you moan, and he thrusts harder, deep, possessive strokes that make you fall apart again, too sensitive, too full.

“so fucking tight,” he grits. “you were made for me.”

your eyes blur. your knees nearly give out.

he holds you steady, keeps fucking you through it, until you’re gasping, twitching, sobbing his name again.

“one more,” he pants. “give me one more.”

“can’t—too much—”

“yes you can. you’re mine. you’ll take everything i give you.”

and you do.

you fall apart for him again, louder, messier, dripping and shaking, and when he finally cums, it’s with a growl so animalistic it makes your whole body ache.

you collapse into the mirror. heeseung holds you upright.

kisses your shoulder.

whispers, “you’re never going back to him.”

and you don’t argue.

— You and Ni-ki had been inseparable since day one of moving in together. The easy jokes, late-night study sessions, and shared meals made your apartment feel like home. He was more than just a roommate, he was the friend who knew every random fact about you, the one you could call at 2 a.m. when sleep wouldn’t come.

That’s why it felt strange when you started noticing the little things: the way his gaze lingered a bit too long when you laughed, or how his hand brushed yours and didn’t pull away.

You and Ni-ki spent most evenings sprawled across the couch, binge-watching your favorite shows or messing around with video games. You teased him endlessly about his terrible skills, and he laughed, mock-offended but never really mad. It was effortless, like the friendship you’d always wanted.

Still, lately, there were moments when you caught him staring at you, just a little longer than usual. Like the night he helped you with your essay and his fingers brushed your wrist as he handed you a pen. Or how he’d sit a little closer than before, his shoulder occasionally touching yours.

You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to imagination. After all, best friends didn’t feel this way.

One night, after a particularly intense study session, you both collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but happy to be in each other’s company. Ni-ki pulled off his hoodie, revealing his toned arms, and you couldn’t help but notice how his skin glowed under the soft lamp light.

“Want to take a break?” you asked, nudging him with your foot.

He smirked. “Definitely. But I’m warning you. I’m still gonna beat you at Mario Kart.”

“You wish.”

You grabbed the controller and sat closer, your thighs almost brushing. The heat between you was subtle but unmistakable.

After a while, Ni-ki paused the game, stretching and letting out a long breath.

“You’re really something,” he said quietly, eyes locking with yours.

You smiled, heart skipping. “Stop it.”

He laughed nervously but didn’t look away. Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips for a moment before flickering back up.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

You reached out, your fingers lightly brushing his arm, testing the boundary that suddenly felt so fragile between you. His eyes widened for a second, a silent question hanging in the air.

Without thinking, you leaned in, just a little closer, your breath mingling. Your heart hammered so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Ni-ki’s eyes fluttered shut, lips parted slightly. Your own lips trembled in anticipation.

But then, just as your faces were inches apart, he pulled back sharply, breaking the spell.

“I—sorry,” he stammered, cheeks flushed bright red. “I shouldn’t... I mean, we’re roommates. Best friends. It’s stupid.”

You blinked, suddenly unsure how to respond. He stood up, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” he muttered, then disappeared down the hall.

You sat there, silent, the almost-kiss lingering like a charged secret between you.

Later that night, you woke up to the soft creak of the living room door opening.

Curious, you tiptoed out and found Ni-ki sitting alone on the couch, face flushed in the dim light, hand moving slowly beneath his sweatpants.

Your breath hitched.

He hadn’t noticed you.

Your presence was a quiet witness to the raw vulnerability he never let show.

He bit his lip, eyes closed, fingers tracing over himself as if trying to soothe a longing only you had awakened.

You stood frozen at the doorway, the dim light casting shadows on Ni-ki’s tense body.

His breaths were ragged, chest rising and falling fast.

His fingers moved deliberately, slow at first, then faster, desperate for release.

Between shaky breaths, he whispered your name, voice thick with need.

“Please... y/n... I'd be such a good boy for you.”

His eyes squeezed shut as if fighting to keep control.

“Tell me how good I am... I need you.”

His lips trembled as he spoke, his fingers trembling with urgency.

“Tell me I’m yours... that I’m your obedient boy.”

Your heart hammered, cheeks flushing deep as you watched him, so vulnerable and desperate.

And yet, you didn’t move.

You just stayed at the door, knowing this secret craving of his, this longing to be dominated and praised by you.

The memory of him moaning your name, begging to be yours, hadn’t left your mind since that night.

You didn’t speak about it. He hadn’t noticed you standing there — or at least pretended not to. But something shifted.

He became more careful around you. Quieter. Nervous. His eyes lingered longer, lips parting like he wanted to say something, but never did.

And tonight?

Tonight you’d had enough.

“Sit,” you said firmly as he followed you into your room, thinking you were just hanging out again. Your voice didn’t ask, it commanded.

He blinked. “W-what?”

You closed the door slowly, locking it, your eyes never leaving his. “I said sit, Ni-ki.”

He swallowed hard but obeyed, dropping onto the edge of your bed. You walked over and sat next to him, gaze sharp.

“You remember the other night?” you asked, voice soft but dangerous. Fingers tracing his jaw.

His breath hitched.

“I—uh…” he looked anywhere but at you. “I didn’t know you saw—”

“I did,” you cut him off. “I saw everything. Heard everything.”

His face flushed.

He swallowed. “I–I didn’t mean for you to see me like that...”

“Didn’t you?” You raised an eyebrow. “Sounded like you wanted me to.”

Ni-ki’s cheeks flamed, gaze falling to the floor. “I… I think about you. A lot.”

His voice was so soft, almost shameful.

You tilted his chin up. “Yeah?” you murmured, stepping in between his legs. “What do you think about, Ni-ki?”

His lips parted, but no words came out. His knees were already trembling, and all you’d done was look at him like you knew him.

“You think about me using you?” you asked, voice like silk. “Telling you what to do?”

He nodded, barely.

You leaned, letting your breath brush his ear. “Say it.”

“I think about you,” he gasped, already fidgeting, fists clenching at his sides. “About being on my knees for you. About… about being good for you.”

You smiled.

“Then be good now.”

You sank to your knees in front of him instead, watching his jaw drop in disbelief as you palmed him through his pants.

“Fuck,” he breathed, hands clutching the sheets beside him like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re so sensitive,” you teased gently. “Are you always this needy for me, Ni-ki?”

He nodded fast, eyes glossy, hips lifting slightly into your hand.

“I like it when you’re like this,” you whispered, tugging his waistband down. His cock sprung free, already flushed, twitching with need.

“Such a pretty cock,” you said, licking your lips. “You really want me to suck it?”

“Yes—please, please, I—” His voice cracked. “I need you.”

“Shh.” You kissed the tip. “You don’t have to beg. You’re being so good already.”

You wrapped your lips around him slowly, watching the way his head tilted back, a deep moan escaping him like he hadn’t been touched in years.

He gasped when you bobbed down further, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

“Feels so good,” he whined. “Fuck—don’t stop, I–I’ll be good, I promise, please—”

You hummed, letting the vibrations make him shudder.

“You are good,” you said softly, looking up at him. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

His whole body tensed at that.

“Yes,” he whimpered. “Yes, I am—fuck, I am.”

You sucked harder.

Ni-ki was unraveling, panting, hands still clenched in the sheets like he was scared to touch you without permission. His hips twitched and you held him still, sucking him deep with a slow rhythm that had him shaking.

“C–can I cum?” he pleaded, eyes wide, full of desperation.

You pulled off with a wet pop.

“Not yet.”

His face fell in disbelief.

“I want to feel you cum inside me.”

The way he looked at you, like you’d just given him everything he ever wanted.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything. Just—please, let me…”

You straddled him slowly, guiding him to lay back, your voice low.

“You’re gonna be good, and take all of me, okay?”

He nodded frantically, pupils blown, arms already trembling beneath you.

“Use me,” he whispered.

You smirked. “Gladly.”

You hovered just above him, grinding slowly, letting his leaking tip drag through your folds. Ni-ki’s mouth fell open, hands twitching at his sides like he was begging for permission to touch.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Let me feel you—please, I need it so bad, I–”

You sank down onto him in one slow, teasing movement, inch by inch until he was fully buried inside.

His moan broke into something closer to a sob.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So warm, so tight.” His head thudded back against the pillows, chest rising and falling fast.

You leaned over, cupping his jaw. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

He obeyed immediately, gaze locked with yours, pupils blown wide with lust and adoration.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised, rolling your hips slowly. “Taking me so well, baby.”

His hands finally gripped your thighs, but not to control—just to anchor himself.

“I dreamed about this,” he breathed. “About you riding me. About you using me.”

You clenched around him on purpose, watching his mouth fall open in shock.

“You love it, don’t you?” you teased. “Being my good little toy?”

He nodded so fast it made you laugh.

“Say it.”

“I love being your toy,” he whimpered. “Please, use me more. I can take it.”

You picked up your pace, grinding faster, riding him with purpose. His moans grew louder, more frantic. You leaned down, whispering against his ear.

“Who do you belong to, Ni-ki?”

“You. You. Only you—fuck, I’m yours, please, don’t stop.”

You kissed his jaw, your hips snapping harder now, the wet sounds of your bodies filling the room. His hands clutched at you desperately, like he needed you to stay there forever.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” you whispered, grinding down and rolling your hips just right.

“I—I can’t hold it,” he whined, tears rolling down. “Please, can I cum? Please, let me—”

“You wanna cum for me, Ni-ki?”

“Yes! I want to cum so bad—please, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good—”

You smiled, dragging your nails gently down his chest.

“Then cum for me.”

That was all it took.

His whole body tensed, hips jerking helplessly beneath you as he came deep inside, moaning your name like a prayer.

You kept riding him through it, dragging out every second of his orgasm while chasing your own, the heat in your core tightening.

“Gonna cum with you inside me,” you groaned. “You want that?”

“Please,” he cried, overstimulated but needy. “Please cum, please, I want to feel it.”

Your climax snapped through you like a whip, your walls pulsing around him as you cried out, slamming your hips down one final time.

You collapsed over his chest, both of you gasping for breath. His arms shakily wrapped around your waist, like he needed to keep you close even in his blissed-out haze.

“You were perfect,” you whispered, brushing his sweaty hair back.

Ni-ki let out a small laugh, dazed and soft. “I’ve never been that good before.”

You kissed his jaw. “You were better than good. You were mine.”

He smiled lazily, voice barely audible. “Still am.”

my second work, kinda nervous 😜

daddy kink!jay who uses his hands slowly and torturously to touch you in public. He loves the adrenaline, plus your moans and whimpers from his deliberate touches.

daddy kink!jay who, every time you come, keeps thrusting his fingers while growling in your ear: “you did so good for your daddy” – feeling your legs tremble and seeing your eyes glass over from overstimulation.

daddy kink!jay who, once home, rips off your clothes while tracing your body with kisses and licks, lost in pleasure just from having you naked before him. he asks, “who does this pretty pussy belong to?” You say, “to daddy.”

daddy kink!jay who fucks you rough and relentless, loving how your body shudders beneath his—spanking your ass as you cry out, “harder, daddy!”

daddy kink!jay who, when his climax nears, grabs your waist tight and thrusts faster and harder, his movements growing uncoordinated in his desire to fill you.