#cw cheating

“he’s an idiot,” he says finally and you laugh. “tell me about it.”

“you deserve better than that.”

“i know,” you sigh. “but it’s not like i can just—”

“you could.”

“satoru.”

“i’m serious. you’re sitting here telling me you’re starving, and i’m right here. i’ve been right here. and trust me—i want to fuck you so bad it’s basically a medical condition at this point.”

your mouth opens, then closes. you’ve joked about this before—only flirty banter of course, something best friends sometimes do—but he’s never said it like that. plain and direct. he scoots closer, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted but you don’t.

“i’m not trying to be a dick about your relationship,” he says. “but you’re frustrated, and i hate seeing you like this. and yeah—i think about it. all the time. what it’d be like to touch you. to kiss you properly. to give you what you actually need.”

he lifts a hand, hesitant for once, and brushes a strand of hair from your face. “tell me to stop and i will. no weirdness. but if you want… let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like.”

you should say no. you have a boyfriend. this is messy. this could ruin everything. instead, you whisper, “okay.”

he leans in slowly—so slowly it feels intentional, like he’s giving you time to change your mind. his forehead brushes yours first, barely there, and you feel his breath ghost over your lips. he hesitates, just for a heartbeat, but still. like he’s nervous. satoru gojo, the strongest, is nervous but then his mouth meets yours.

it’s soft. careful. nothing rushed or demanding. his lips press to yours like he’s been imagining this moment for so long. his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb warm against your cheek.

you tilt toward him without realizing, and he feels it—responds instantly. his fingers tighten just slightly, not rough, but possessive in a way that tells you he’s not letting you away. his mouth moves again, slow and deep, like he’s claiming you without needing to prove it.

you sigh into the kiss, and it pulls a low groan from his chest. it vibrates against your lips, sends heat straight down your spine.

“fuck,” he murmurs, barely pulling back, his lips still brushing yours. “i’ve wanted this.”

then he’s kissing you again, deeper now. his thumb slips under your chin, tilting your face up—gentle, commanding, leaving no doubt about where he wants you.

your knees go weak. actually weak. the kind where your legs forget how to hold weight and you sink a little deeper into the couch cushions. he feels it—he must—because his other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against him, steadying you even as he steals your breath.

he pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing yours with every word. “does he kiss you like this?”

you shake your head, barely breathing.

“good,” he murmurs, and kisses you again—deeper this time, but still slow, deliberate. his tongue traces your bottom lip, and when you open for him, he groans quietly, the sound vibrating against your mouth. he pulls you closer until you’re half in his lap and the kisses turn heavier, hungrier, but he controls the pace.

every time you try to chase it, he slows you down, kissing you until your head spins and your thoughts blur. your hands fist in his hoodie just to stay upright.

his kiss turns possessive—tongue stroking deeper, teeth nipping your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp into him. he swallows the sound, angling your head with that hand on your jaw so he can take more, taste more. it’s like he’s trying to erase every half-hearted kiss you’ve ever had, replacing them with him and his kisses.

every slow drag of his tongue feels like a promise: i’d never leave you wanting. i’d ruin you for anyone else.

“i’ve wanted to do this for years,” he says between kisses. “every time you talked about him, i just wanted to kiss you quiet. show you how easy it is to want someone.”

your hands fist in his hoodie. “satoru…”

he pulls back just enough to look at you. “let me take care of you tonight. no pressure. no expectations. just… let me make you feel good. the way you deserve.“

you nod, throat tight.

he smiles—small, genuine, nothing like his usual grin—and kisses you again, slow and deep, like he has all the time in the world. and for the first time in weeks, you’re not thinking about your boyfriend at all.

— You started to take up self defense classes after that. Jason always begged you to when he was alive… it felt like a good way to honor him.

— Years pass and eventually Tim moves in… and so does Stephanie.

— Both of the young teens seem to avoid you when they can. You supposed it was only fair… they just had a bombshell dropped on them that Bruce Wayne was going to be their new father. You figured giving them time to adjust was the right decision.

— You finally get to meet Barbara Gordon one day at an award Ceremony Gotham University was holding. She was brilliant; utterly witty and confident. But at the same time she seemed to stare right through you.

— You knew what she was thinking, what they were all thinking. “This one is a phase.” You couldn’t blame them. You thought so too.

— It was that time of year again…

— Every year you made cookies… Jason’s birthday, his adoption anniversary, his death… every single important anniversary you made a fresh plate of Chocolate chip cookies and set them out on the counter. By morning they were gone… courtesy of Alfred.

— He enjoyed your presence but he found it tedious that you would waste food like this!

— Eventually something big happens

— Bruce is just… gone one day. No note, no phone call, no voicemail. Nothing! Just… vanished from the face of the earth for months!

— And with him gone… so too did Tim and Stephanie leave.

— Something about roaming the halls of that empty mansion left a bad taste in your mouth. This wasn’t your home. This was the Waynes home. And no matter what your marriage certificate said… you weren’t a Wayne… everyone made that perfectly clear.

— You took up painting in the time Bruce was gone.

— Might as well immortalize the family you inherited this Mansion from. It was easy enough to find photos of everyone online.

— It was a tad harder to hanging above the stairway in the great Hall.

— and they’re it was again… Jason’s Birthday.

— Alfred has been out taking care of Tim and Stephanie as they live downtown in Bruce’s old penthouse…

— maybe this time you’d actually be able to properly honor your son.

— and the cookies are still there by morning you got out of a sigh of relief.

— and that side turns into laughter.

— and that laughter turns into sobbing.

— eventually, everything changes again. Bruce comes home and he brings the entire family back with him. Dick moves and Tim and Stephanie move back in. Even Barbara and a new girl named Cassandra Cain move in.

— The home feels like we were than ever!

— so why does it feel like you’re planting even more into the background?

— most of the time they forget you’re even there.

— christmases and birthdays are usually filled with laughter and joy and cheer. The Waynes go all out and celebrating each other and filling the home with laughter and love…

— yours are filled with gift cards and awkward, exchanging of pleasantries.

— you might, as will be an ornamental lamp.

— and then Damien shows up.

— you try your absolute best to be nice. I didn’t really bother you that Bruce had an affair. You encouraged him to the beginning of your “marriage”. Damien’s existence wasn’t a problem. His attitude on the other hand…

— most people know Damien Wayne is a brat.

— he’s constantly mouthing off to his siblings, he’s constantly fighting with his father, he’s constantly sassing anybody who will give him five seconds of attention.

— but you get it the worst. It feels like he goes out of his way to annoy you and to try to pick a fight with you. He sees you as the evil stepmother before you even have a chance to get to know him. Part of him blames you, for being in the way of his mother and father being together. They were in love, but because of you, they had to go their separate ways.

— to him you’re just a Normie.

— a no good nobody who doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as the Waynes. Sure you’ve lived in this house long before his parents even met, but that didn’t matter to him. His mother was a purebred, you’re just a mutt. She’s beautiful, elegant, educated, deadly, cunning. She’s Bruce’s perfect match. You’re nothing special to him.

— and he lets you know every single time that you see each other that you will never compare to his mother. You will never replace his mother! You will never be his mother…

— The arrogant little-…

— it’s fine. You just have to survive six more years of this and then he’ll go off to college and you’ll never have to see him again.

— it’s the anniversary of Jason’s death…

— The hardest day of your life… The day you were forced to bury your son you. The only son you’ve ever known, the only family ever known in this hell hole since your parents sold you off.

— and what do you find the next morning?

— Him…

— Damian Wayne eating Jason’s cookies.

— You screamed.

— you snatched the plate away from him, and started screaming at him that he was a demon, a monster! How could he destroy your memorial to your beloved son?!

— Bruce comes in and separates the two of you.

— he screams at you, not to yell at his son.

— You fire back that he’s forgotten Jason. That if he remembered Jason, he would remember how hard his death hit you… and how much these cookies meant to you, and how much this memorial meant to you.

— in the 15 years since Jason’s death, not important date of his has gone by where you haven’t honored him in this way.

— if Bruce hadn’t forgot Jason, then how could he have not told Damien what these cookies meant

— it was all you had left of your son, and now there’s a demon has ruined it. And Bruce is letting him.

— after that, you spent months locked in your room. Bruce tried to smooth things over. He sent you gifts, he sent you money, he even made a Damien apologize. Nothing is enough

— and then, one day you suddenly started coming out of your room again.

— you look brighter than you had been in over a decade and a half.

— and you’re still baking those damn cookies.

— only this time you’re baking them on a weekly basis. You leave the cookies out on the doorstep of the service entrance on Sunday night and by Monday morning the plate is empty.

— Bruce felt bad.

— Of course he felt bad! He feel like he pushed you into a psychosis! You miss Jason so much that you’re trying to relive the past like he’s still here.

— and then one night… Bruce sees him again. Jason has come back as the red hood persona. He wants to tell you so badly. He knows how much you miss him, but that would compromise his secret identity as the Batman.

— he lets this guilt fester for months.

— and then, on Sunday evening, he sees you baking cookies again.

— you turned to him and grandmother smile.

— it makes him feel so guilty.

— You tell him that you can’t talk now Jason’s gonna be here any minute after he’s done with his red hood business.

— that made him pause. His heart stopped for a moment. You couldn’t possibly know that. Jason wouldn’t be that stupid to tell you about everything. Right?

— he gripped by the shoulder and turns you around. He needed to know…

He's a tease, which you didn't expect from a man so put-together. He likes watching you burn up as he unravels you. So you meet his gaze and take in the pink dusting across his nose and cheeks, the mess of blond that brushes over his forehead — he's just as needy as you are.

"It doesn't have to be true," you flit your gaze to the tray on the bedside. On it is a champagne bucket, a 'congratulations on your marriage!' placard, and his wedding ring. "I just want to pretend. We're in a honeymoon suite after all, I want to..."

He catches your drift. There's this unspoken language between you that you think might only be born from doing such a heinous thing together. You're partners; whether that's in crime or romance is a moot point. You feel like an old married couple anyway. He knows you; knows why you're suddenly so shy, knows when and how you need to come, knows what you'll order from room service once he's done with you.

"You want to be my wife?" He searches your face. You feel his cock throb inside of you, twitching at the thought of having you in name as well as body. "Hm, Mrs. Nanami?"

Yes. God, yes. You feel naive and heart-eyed looking to be thoroughly owned by an unfaithful man like him, but your cunt is tight and pulsing around him — you couldn't lie to him about your needs even if you wanted to.

"You know," he starts, his voice rough as he pulls out of your just long enough to reach over and take his wedding ring from the bedside table. "I come home some nights and half expect to see you waiting for me in bed."

Kento grabs your left hand and slips his ring onto your finger. It's too big, and he has to close his hand around yours to keep it in place, which pushes the metal into your skin. You feel lightheaded with want.

"I wish it was me," you whisper, skin burning as he lines his cock up once again and pushes home. "That you come home to."

He moans, burying himself inside of you and his face in your neck. "It is. Come on, love, live in it. I love you."

"Fuck," you exhale, lungs on fire. He quickens his pace, fucking into you with a snapping of his hips. You can hear yourself squelching around him. "Love you too. You feel so good."

"Is that why you married me?" He snorts, teasing. He pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips. "For the time spent between my sheets? I thought we had more going for us, honey."

You reach up with your free hand and stroke the side of his face, revelling in the feel of slight stubble beneath your palm. "I have to keep you interested somehow, hm?"

His eyes blaze with something untelling. Dipping down again, he licks at your lips. You part them, let his tongue venture in and explore your mouth, running over your teeth and drooling spit from his mouth to yours. It's messy and gross and he pulls away to leave a streak of saliva across your chin, but your stomach curls with a pending orgasm regardless.

"You," he smears his spit over your lips, "have nothing to worry about."

"No?" You buck your hips up from the plush mattress and wrap your thighs around his waist, locking them at his ass and using that embrace to pull him deeper. "You'd be okay with just me, for the rest of your long life?"

"Our long life," he corrects, flexing forward until he's so deep inside of you that there's no space left to give. "And yes. 'Til death do us part, my love. I want to sink into this beautiful body of yours until the very end."

You snort. He's poetic, for a businessman.

He fucks you long and slow and deep with thrusts that are more intimate than pleasure-seeking. It doesn't feel like a torrid affair, and you don't feel sick for sleeping with a married man. Because, even if it's just for your time spent beneath him, he's yours.

And maybe he's parroting the same words he told his real wife back to you. He could be a rakehell, depositing his cum inside of you with no care for the heart he holds in his hands.

But at the end of his long days, it's you he sneaks away to see. It's your body in which he finds his comfort. Your tits that he sucks on. Your mouth that he feeds his cock into. Your cunt that he fills again and again with an unspoken hope that maybe something will stick, and he'll have an excuse to come clean and start anew with you.

So who are you — the other woman — to care?

“you’ll be fine!” you boyfriend said, a grin etched on his face as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. you let him, bottom lip puckering out slightly. “are you sure? i’m so nervous though,” you murmured, covering your face with your palms as you let out a muffled groan. 

he always looked so annoyingly calm—while you felt ridiculously jittery. excitement twinned with dread twisting in your stomach. for the first time ever, you’re finally meeting his team. like all the eleven players. the famous football players. the ones everyone gravitated toward on campus… 

those loud, tall, shining, charming boys who slapped backs and laughed with their chests. 

jay pried your hands down gently, holding them in his. “they’ll love you,” he said, so certain it almost hurt. “you could walk in and say nothing the whole time and they’d still love you,” he continued with a hum, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “because my girlfriend is so lovable like that.”

because you were his. that’s what he didn’t say, but you heard it. 

you swallowed, lips pursing. “what if they don’t?” 

“then that’s their problem,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead—soft, reverent, protective in that way that made your knees go weak. “you’re amazing, don’t worry.”

you exhaled, tension beginning to melt just a little—right as the restaurant door behind you swung open. a couple walked out, then the noise behind spilled out—laughter, shouts, someone joking. 

jay nudged you forward gently. “perfect timing. c’mon.” giving your hand a playful squeeze, you let your boyfriend guide you inside. the restaurant hummed with various noises, the team’s voices rising from the back corner in chaos. 

“jay–ah!” jake said, waving his hand so enthusiastically he might knock over a glass. “here!” your boyfriend laughed, lifting the other hand to wave back. “sorry, sorry, parking was insane.” 

“excuses,” another boy chimed in, grinning. “who’s that?”

heat rushed to your cheeks immediately. jay’s arm slid around your waist, casual but proud. “this is my girlfriend,” he announced, gently guiding you towards an empty seat. “come on, let’s sit.” 

before you could even think, he guided you to the nearest open space at the long table. you slid in, keeping your eyes down in what you hoped was a polite, sweet–girlfriend way instead of a terrified baby deer entering the forest.

jay took the seat on your right, the end of the table. he never lets you sit at the end. you took the seat on the right, pulling your chair closer under the table. his arm brushed yours as he sat, ensuring you’re comfortable. 

the conversation quickly spilled around you, voices overlapping: “coach made us run suicides again—”

“‘m going to skip weights this week,”

your boyfriend laughed, throwing an arm over the back of your chair as he engaged in the topic. you sipped the cold drink that’d been put in front of you, hands wrapped around the glass so you’d stop fidgeting.

it’s so awkward and so… out of place for you. you just sat there quietly, content to just listen. jay was in his elements, laughing with his dearest teammates, so full and bright and warm in a way you liked seeing.

a glass clinked near your left, and you glanced that way. 

“hi,” 

next to you, sunghoon leaned slightly in your direction—holding his drink loosely, fingers around the condensation–slick glass. he wasn’t loud like others—just listening as well, eyes flicking between his friends, lips curved slightly at every joke.

you gave a small, sweet polite smile back. “hi.”

it came out airy, barely above the hum of the table. not shy, just soft. sunghoon nodded once, almost gentle. he didn’t move his gaze away, no such thing as social rules of not staring at someone else’s girlfriend too long applied to him, not when said girlfriend is probably the prettiest little thing sunghoon has ever laid his eyes on. 

he seemed calm. and yes—objectively very good–looking—the kind that would normally make you flustered (it worked) if you didn’t have a boyfriend.

“first time meeting the team?” he asked, voice steady and calm. you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before nodding. “yeah… jay’s been… talking about this for a while.”

sunghoon’s lips ticked up—into something of a slight smirk. “jay talks a lot about you too,” he said, low enough as if it’s meant to be for you. “i was starting to think he made you up. but i guess not, a girl like you does exist.” 

you blinked, warmth pooling low in your stomach—jay’s name in someone else’s mouth, from the reality of just how much he must gush when you’re not there.

your breath caught in your throat—not because it was overly charming, but because it was so smooth. you blinked, barely managing a tiny laugh. “well… surprise.” you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“lucky him,” he murmured, then lifted his glass slightly in a casual half–cheers gesture. “i’m sunghoon, by the way.”

“yn,” you placed your hand in his when he offered it, his palm warm against your cool ones, grip firm and brief. “nice to finally meet you,” you said, offering the sweetness you always have on. 

“yeah,” sunghoon replied, giving your hand a light squeeze before he pulls away with a lingering heat, leaning back in his seat as he tapped the rim of his glass with his thumb, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

your boyfriend laughed beside you, nudging your knee under the table by accident. you looked away, warmth blooming in your cheeks as you leaned slightly towards jay, placing your hand on his thigh. 

still, you could feel sunghoon’s gaze linger on you. 

——

after that night, you went home warm with relief—jay’s team liked you, like he said, jay was happy, and you’d managed to get through dinner without spilling anything on yourself or make a fool. 

just a few days later, a notification slid from the top of your screen. you’d just finished showering and sank into bed, getting comfortable to face another night. 

p.sunghoon just followed you.

you blinked. once, twice—oh? you pursed your lips, thumb hovering stupidly over the screen for a moment. you weren’t sure if you remembered exchanging usernames—actually, you were positive you didn’t. 

jay definitely didn’t mention giving it. he wasn’t the “here’s my girlfriend’s instagram” type; if anything he really tried to protect you from the eyes of men. 

and yet… there it was. sunghoon’s follow notification. 

“let me just stalk you…” you murmured, humming to yourself as you tapped on his profile. his display picture sharp even in the tiny circle—a mirror selfie of him in his white tank. his feed was curated—football, track pants, icy expressions, candid flashes.

everything about him just screamed he knew exactly how attractive he was without ever needing to try.

and fuck, he was.

before you could hit the follow button, another notification popped up. sunghoon had liked a picture of you from a couple months ago—the one where you were visiting the alpaca world in gangwon. 

then another—a summer picture of you and your friends, wearing a bikini top underneath sheer cardigan, and a pair of shorts. 

a quiet instinctive oh sat low. he was stalking your instagram, the same time you were stalking his. 

you followed him back, tossing and turning on your back on the bed, getting ready to close the app. but before you could do so, sunghoon sent you a message.

p.sunghoon: hey there

you cocked an eyebrow at the message, fingers lingering above the keyboard.

yn.ln : hi 

p.sunghoon: you showed up in my suggested by the way

p.sunghoon: totally wasn’t searching you up or anything

you bit down a smile, his sarcasm threading clean through the screen—light warmth crawled up your neck despite every rational cell in your brain telling you stop that. 

yn.ln : oh right that’s so believable 

another bubble appeared almost immediately. 

p.sunghoon: you gotta trust me.

p.sunghoon: but i guess i got lucky too

yn.ln : how so?

a second, then two passed—before the bubbles appeared again. 

p.sunghoon: i got to talk to you, didn’t i?

your heart skipped in your chest. not romantic, not sweeping, not anything that should matter… but awareness that this felt wrong, and to an extent it probably was wrong—but it’s not like the two of you were doing anything aside from talking, right?

your fingertips hovered above your keyboard, stomach pulling tight. dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you thought of a reply that could come off as neutral. 

yn.ln: you give me too much credit lol

p.sunghoon: guess so. 

p. sunghoon: coming to heeseung’s party tmrw?

p.sunghoon: heeseung is the guy in jersey num 01 btw

you pursed your lips, sucking the inside of your cheek as you stared at the messages. a party… jay hadn’t mentioned it yet—but jay would want you there. his girlfriend, on his arm, at his friend’s party. 

yn.ln: ohh i remember himm.

yn.ln: i’ll ask jay!! wld be awkward going without someone i know

you rolled on your stomach, legs swinging in the air.

p.sunghoon: well we can get to know each other

p.sunghoon: then i can be the other person you know

you chuckled softly, tapping your index on your lips before replying,

yn.ln: let’s see :p 

then, you tossed your phone onto the pillow, buried your face, and groaned into the sheets—a muffled, frustrated sound because this felt messy already and you hadn’t even done anything bad.

rolling over for the nth time of the night, you hugged your pillow and stared at the ceiling again, breathing out slowly like maybe if you exhaled long enough, you could convince yourself that this wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it inside your head.

later, just before bed, you’d ask jay about the party. you’d go with him, hold his hand, stay close, and be good—and be there because you wanted to know the people in jay’s life.

totally not because someone had asked you first.

——

the music thumped—deep, heavy bass vibrated through the walls, the floor, your ribs. coloured lights strobed across a sea of bodies, cups raised, laughter spilling louder everywhere you went.

jay’s hand was warm at your lower back as you stepped inside. he’d kissed your temple before you walked in and said, "you're so perfect. gosh, can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” in that sweet, earnest way that always made your heart skipped joyfully. 

“come, let’s greet heeseung first,” jay leaned in, murmuring in your ear as he guided you towards the living room—where most boys (and girls) were gathered. you nodded, letting yourself melt into his side as he steered you through the crowd—arm instinctively looping around his middle, the clean scent of his cologne filling up your nose.

the living room was alive—boys yelling over some game, girls cheering, people dancing and swaying at the sides. jay fit into it all effortlessly—but in a good way, so easy and loved and respected. 

and you were right there next to him, jay’s pretty, smart, proper, lovely little girlfriend, tucked perfectly against him like you belonged—his world, afterall. 

jay spotted heeseung across the room first. “ah, there he is,” his hand squeezed you waist softly. “ready?” 

you nodded, jittering nervously. 

and then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.

park sunghoon.

leaning against the arm of the couch, cup in hand, body half–turned to you—until you looked, and he instantly looked right back. as if he could sense your eyes on him. 

sunghoon’s lip curled into a small smile, but he didn’t nod. just a flick of his gaze—deliberate—travelling from your kitten heels, up your bare legs, the curve of your hips and breasts, lingering at your neckline where you wore a necklace of your first initial, before meeting your eyes with a subtle acknowledgement, like a secret. 

like a secret.

your breath caught in your lungs—just for a second—heat skimmed your skin. you felt so self–conscious, not in the insecure way, but in a way where you’re aware. you swallowed, turning fully back to jay as he waved and called out heeseung’s name, grounding yourself in the warm firmness of his hold. 

you loved jay, you really did. 

and yet…

“hey,” sunghoon said softly, leaning against the countertop where you were just getting yourself a can of soda. one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cup lazily. 

you blinked, then smiled, hooking your finger into the tab and pulled it back, letting out the short and sharp hiss of the gas. “oh, hi sunghoon,” you hummed, turning your body his way so you were facing him. 

sunghoon huffed a laugh, a small one, “you made it.” his gaze swept over you again, quickly, but not quick or subtle enough to pretend it didn't happen. you shrugged, sipping your soda through the straw.”mmhm, i told you i’d ask jay.”

sunghoon nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line momentarily before he smiled. “you look nice. silver looks really good on you, don’t they?” your brows listed slightly, amused. glancing down at your dress, you suppressed a smile, biting the inside of your cheek.

“you think so?”

sunghoon’s eyes flicked down your figure again—properly taking you in now that there was a reason to. “yeah,” he said, voice low like the compliment was meant just for you. “i do.”

you felt a flutter in your stomach—the sharp pinch of attention you weren’t supposed to enjoy. 

fiddling with your straw, a soft laugh slipping out. “you… look nice too, i guess. for a pair of jeans and white shirt.” you teased. his jaw ticked, barely, like he was trying not to show how much the words pleased him. or maybe irritated him.

with sunghoon it was hard to tell; everything he felt passed like shadows under water, there and gone before you could name it.

“you guess,” he echoed, leaning one shoulder against the counter, head dipping closer. “i complimented you, said you’re pretty ‘n all, and all i get is a you guess?” sunghoon feigned offense, raising an eyebrow like he’s curious. 

you giggled, shaking your head. you rolled your eyes playfully, circling the soda can in your hand. “hey—that’s good enough,” you shrugged, pressing the straw between your lips. “and you said i look nice, not that i’m pretty.”

sunghoon scoffed playfully, the corner of his lip turned into a smirk. “a pretty girl like you don’t need to be told that you’re pretty, yn,” he hummed, taking a sip of his drink as he watched you through the rim. 

“you know that better than anyone else.” 

huh, weird—it’s not the alcohol but something tighter, hotter, wrong in a way that pulls you forward like gravity. you blinked at him, throat doing that useless little swallow. “you’re just saying anythin’ now,” you hmph–ed, shaking your head.

sunghoon’s brows lifted in the smallest, laziest arc, like he was amused you thought he was saying anything unusual. he dipped his head toward you, voice calm, steady, too confident for how casual it should be. 

“why not?”

a beat.

“you are pretty.”

there it was again—that thrumming pulse, that quiet guilt slithering along your ribs. “okay well,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on him. “now you’re just milking it.”

sunghoon chuckled, his pretty canines flashing through. “well,” he murmured, swirling the liquid in his cup lazily, “before you accuse me of milking it—” he smirked, “you’d have to be spoiled first.”

your mouth parted in outrage—confusion, or something warm and electric you didn’t want to acknowledge. “did you just—” you whispered, half–laughing, half–aghast, “that’s not even—that didn’t even make sense!” 

you giggled, and sunghoon just watched. so pretty—how did jay bag someone like you? gosh, he should’ve met you earlier. 

“well, whatever you say,” your giggled died down, straw pressed against the corner of your mouth as you sipped again, still looking at him through your lashes you swore you weren’t fluttering on purpose.

your gaze flicked toward the living room—where your boyfriend’s laugh carried faintly over music and shouts. “oh,” you cleared your throat, placing your empty can on the counter. “think i should go now, i left jay alone for too long.”

sunghoon hummed, nodding as he watched you. “right,” he said, lips curving slow. at least you weren’t leaving him because of the way he was. “yeah, wouldn’t want him to get worried.” 

you nodded with a shrug, already turning your body halfway when sunghoon called you out, 

“see you around, then.” 

you looked back against your shoulder, offering him a smile as you lightly waved your hand. “see you around, sunghoon.” 

his eyes dipped, watching as you disappeared between the bodies of people. 

baby steps.

——

you and sunghoon’s friendship was… strange. too light to call it anything, but too charged to call it innocent. 

it was harmless, really! you and jay were still together, still held hands and smiled and he still brought you flowers, and you still melted every time he kissed your forehead. 

but there was also… space where sunghoon existed—it’s soft and subtle and it threaded through your days before you realised he’d already made a place there.

it’s just little moments, but those little moments were big.

“oh gosh, it’s so sunny,” you hissed, covering the sunlight with your hand in front of you. jay was laughing with his friends, too busy recounting a play to notice your discomfort. this was like the first time ever that jay was unattentive, but you just let it pass since they’d just won their latest match, with your boyfriend being the valuable player.

let him have his moment.

sunghoon next to you, however, noticed. he didn’t say anything at first, just watched you tilt your forehead, lashes fluttering against the glare. his gaze flicked upward, catching something you couldn’t see.

“hold still,” he murmured. before you could ask, he leaned in. sunghoon’s hand lifted—not to block the sun, though part of his shadow fell over your face anyway—but to gently brush something from your hair. 

a tiny petal clung to his fingertip before drifting away on the breeze. 

his fingers didn’t leave right away.

they lingered from your hair, down to tuck a strand behind your ear. his thumb ghosted your cheekbone, like he was checking just how far he could go before you pulled away. 

you didn’t.

you breath caught, just for a second, a fragile heartbeat suspended between you. his eyes stayed on your face. finally, he dropped his hand, shifting slightly on the picnic mat so he absorbed most of the sun. 

“better?” he asked softly. you swallowed, forcing a tiny, shy smile. “mmhm.. just bright…”

“oh—crap, sorry baby,” jay’s voice cut in, warm and full of genuine concern. you turned just in time to see him breaking the conversation, already tugging off his cap. “sorry baby,” he apologised again. 

before you could tell him it’s okay—he leaned down to settle the cap gently over your hair, adjusting the brim with his fingers so your hair wouldn’t get messy. 

“there,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone—so close to where sunghoon was just grazing. “don’t want my girl burning up.”

you laughed softly, cheeks warming as you leaned in toward his shoulder shyly. “so cheesy,” you murmured, pressing your cheek against his forearm. 

sunshine bright, golden affection.

at the corner of your eyes, you saw sunghoon’s gaze slide back to you before he looked away, a small scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head. 

it wasn’t just that.

another day, after a dinner together with his friends, jay excused himself to the restroom, leaving you and just a few others outside the restaurant. it’d gotten chilly these past few days, and you cussed yourself for not wearing something warmer. 

you shifted your weight, exhaling a shaky breath that left a cloud in the air. 

“cold?” 

you hadn’t even noticed sunghoon watching you until his voice cut through the chatter. he stood slightly apart from the group, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. you blinked, caught. “what? nah, i’m fine,” 

a thin puff of white lip left your lips. 

sunghoon’s brow lifted just a little, one corner of his mouth tugging into a teasing smirk at your stubbornness. “yn, you’re shivering,” he chuckled, ruffling the back of his head. 

you shook your head again, but you were hugging yourself and that was already proof that you were lying. with no hesitation, suddenly his varsity jacket was draping over yours. heavy, warm, smelled so strongly of him—of sunghoon, one of your boyfriend’s bestfriend.

“sunghoon—” you started, holding the collar with awkward fingers, heat prickling up your neck. “you don’t have to—”

“i know,” he cut in simply, hands sliding back into his pockets like nothing happened. “just take it.” 

he shrugged lightly, eyes returning to the street. “just don’t get sick,” his gaze slid to you again, lingering just long enough. with a raise of his hands, sunghoon buttoned the top buttons of his jacket. “jay would feel awful.” 

you nodded, pursing your lips. “yeah, he would.”

——

you should’ve woken jay up and left when you felt your boyfriend’s head slowly drooping on your shoulder. heeseung sat on the floor with a pillow, already halfway gone, blinking slower and slower between scenes. 

sunghoon lounged on the other end of the couch, next to you, his legs rested atop of the coffee table. stretched back, black tee, fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest. 

and you? 

you were indulging the movie. some romcom from 2004 about a girl navigating her way in the city, and a boy who wants to leave the city—you weren’t aware of the quiet and the closeness. 

at some point, jay’s head landed softly against your shoulder, his hands resting on the pillow on his lap. your heart warmed instinctively, and you adjusted the blanket over him just a little—out of muscle memory of love.

suddenly—breathless moans, bare skin, tangled limbs on screen.

“oh my god—” you gasped, too loud and sharp in the room. your hand flew to your pillow where you brought it up against your face, covering it. your other hand fumbled the remote where you smacked pause, making the audio cut mid–whimper.

jay stirred, but didn’t wake.

you could feel the heat rushing to your face, ears, everywhere, mortified. 

“what?” sunghoon murmured, voice low and almost confused, eyes on you rather than the frozen image on the screen. it didn’t help that the actor was obviously on top of the actress.

you shook your head. “nothing, nothing, just um—” your tongue felt clumsy, the silence pressed, soft breath of two sleeping boys, and the sharp awareness of the one awake beside you. 

raising a brow, sunghoon glanced at the screen, then back to you—before finally realising what was up. “ahhh,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, full of knowing. your cheeks burned, fingers tightening around the cushion, shoulders tensing. 

“stop,” you muffled, even though he hadn’t said anything else yet. 

“i didn’t say anything,” he chuckled, leaning back again. but his eyes didn’t leave your face. they stayed on you—amused. you swallowed, toes curling the sofa fabric. 

sunghoon’s grin widened as he propped his elbow on the backrest and his chin on the heel of his palm, now facing you. “are you getting shy over a sex scene?” he teased, tilting his head slightly. 

“you have a boyfriend, yn, don’t tell me a little sex movie makes you flustered.” he finished, voice dipping just low enough. 

slowly, you pulled the cushion away, shooting him a warning glare that was more like a kitten glare to him. “i’m not shy, i—i just didn’t expect that scene, okay?” you waved a hand helplessly at the paused screen, “it’s different watching it.”

sunghoon blinked slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he processed your phrasing. “...watching it…?

you nodded, rolling your eyes. “like—when it’s not theoretical, or—whatever.”

a beat of silence.

then, sunghoon’s lips parted, breath catching in a tiny laugh that slid right down your spine. 

“you mean,” he said softly, leaning closer like a predator humoring prey that hadn’t yet realised it was cornered. “when you haven’t done it yet?” 

you froze. 

your throat worked and nothing came out—you’re not good at lying.

you whispered, barely breathing, “...i wouldn’t know.” 

sunghoon still. then, slower than hunger, his head tilted and his lashes lowered. “right,” he murmured, gaze locked on your mouth. the room didn’t feel like a living room anymore. two boys slept inches away, but it felt like just the two of you breathing. 

“aren’t you curious?” 

you swallowed, pulse fluttering. “i mean… isn’t everyone?” you whispered, eyes fixed somewhere near his collarbone instead of his eyes. “at one point of their life? it’s not like i—” you exhaled, glancing briefly at jay’s hands on his lap. “it’s everything… and i respect his choice.”

sunghoon’s brows lifted. “his choice,” he tasted the words at the tip of his tongue. “and yours?” 

you blinked at him, “mine?” 

“you respect his,” he leaned just enough that your knees brushed against each other. “but what about you? anyone ever asked you what you want?” 

you breath caught, you shifted on your seat, pulling your legs closer to your chest. “that’s not—” you murmured, eyes dropping to sunghoon’s hand playing with the drawstring of his sweats. “i don’t… i don’t want to do anything wrong.”

sunghoon smiled faintly, like he’s coaxing a kitten from under the table. 

“wrong?” he echoed, “yn, i’m not talking about… cheating.” he shrugged, brushing the cushion by your knee. “i’m asking if you ever think about learning. understanding, not because you were lacking—” his gaze flicked down to the bobbed in your throat, “but because you’re curious. you deserve to know your body, not just wait for someone else to figure out first.” 

your heart skipped.

holy shit.

then sunghoon continued, “there are ways to… explore. to feel without crossing lines you don’t want to cross.” 

you stared at your boyfriend’s friend, helpless and burning, brain blank except for the pounding rhythm of your heart, and the heat slowly pooling in your stomach. 

“...what are you saying?”

sunghoon’s smiled curled, his fingers pinching and releasing his locks. “i’m saying," he murmured. “you respect him. that’s why you don’t do anything.”

he breathed a soft scoff at the thought—a girl like you existed, perfect in all edges, and yet jay couldn’t give you that one thing you probably wanted in a relationship. his eyes cut toward jay sleeping by your side, before returning to you.

“but if you’re holding back for him…” he leaned in just a fraction, and your pussy twitched—you swore you felt your panties getting wet. 

“...what’s stopping you from learning with someone who isn’t asking you to wait?”

your lips parted, breath shaky. 

“with me, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

lies.

“hngh, mhh,” you whimpered against his lips—sunghoon pressed his lips against yours, muffling your little moans and whimpers and mewls, one hand sliding down your tummy and beneath your panties. 

he slipped his tongue inside yours, tangling and twirling and dancing with your tongue, breath warm and heaty. his rough hand grazed your clit, just airy and barely there bit it elicited a hitched sound from you. 

using two fingers to stroke and rub your clit in circular motion, sunghoon dipped his fingers between your labia where he scooped your juice to lather over your cunt. “you’re so wet,” sunghoon murmured, nipping at your earshell. 

you shifted on his lap, throwing your head back against his chest, heart shuddering where his hand rubbed your wet pussy. “fuck,” he breathed, feeling his painfully aching cock pressed between your asscheeks. 

“are you wet for me, baby?” he continued, licking the curved shell before kissing your concha. you nodded pathetically, both hands holding sunghoon’s other hand that rested on your tummy, anchoring yourself down on his lap.

the way he worked with your cunt left you breathless, fingertip grazing and flicking the little pea, ring and middle fingers dipping just at the entrance where it teased—contemplating if you deserve to be fingered or not. 

“d—don’t tease me, sunghoon,” you gasped softly arching your back, which made your ass pressed harder on sunghoon’s bulge. the boy hissed, nipping at the soft skin just below your jaw. “no baby,” he murmured warmly. 

again, sunghoon dipped the second crease of his ring inside your pussy, teasing. “call me hoonie and i’ll finger you,” he continued, lapping his tongue on the spot he’d just bitten. you let out a soft moan, squeezing his hand. 

nodding, you wanted to rock and buck your hips against his palm, but not sure if that was the right thing to do, so you opted to let sunghoon take the lead. “hoonie, hoonie, please?” you pleaded adorably, just the way sunghoon liked it.

with a light chuckle, continuing a little rubbing on your pussy, sunghoon slid one finger inside your cunt, already making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “hngh,” your body responded nicely, back arching as sunghoon began pumping his finger in and out.

just one and he’s got you folded like origami? 

“baby, relax,” he whispered, one hand (still being gripped by your hands) moved to lift your top, letting it rest above your collarbone. sunghoon hooked one finger underneath your bra as he pulled it up, your pretty tits bouncing lewdly. 

running his thumb over one perky nipple, it distracted you enough for him to slide another finger in, two fingers already stuffing his tight cunt full. “oh, oh god, hngh—” you whimpered like a kitten, fingers curling around his palm. 

sunghoon began moving his fingers to his knuckles, in and out, back and forth, biting his bottom lip at the faint wet noises from your slickness coating his fingers. instinctively, you started rocking your hips against his palm, burying his fingers deeper inside.

“fuck, your pussy’s gripping my fingers,” he moaned as you grinded on his cock. sunghoon didn’t know if that was on purpose, but fuck that felt good. his fingers made a scissoring motion inside of you, stretching you good and nice for something bigger—his desperate, throbbing cock. 

leaving a hickey just behind your ear, sunghoon then curled his fingers inside of you, pressing against your gummy soft spot. you whimper a broken moan, head tipping back against his chest. “hoonie, oh there,” you breathed out, guts twisting in your tummy. “right there, please, feels s’good there,” 

knowing you were close, sunghoon picked up his pace, fingers started thrusting into you faster and faster, pressing the spot harder as his thumb circled your clit mercilessly, you were making a mess out of his hand, wetting your pants. 

his other hand tugged on your nipple where he rolled the bud between his fingerpads, pinching and flicking with his index. “oh shit, hngh, think ‘m cumming, mhh,” you cried out softly, the pressure building up inside of you. 

the orgasm hit—you arched your back and squirted on sunghoon’s hand, legs shaking and trembling in sunghoon’s lap. “mh—oh hoonie, ah,” sunghoon gave your pussy a couple more pumping, helping you ride out your high.

once you’ve weakened on him, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy twitched and clamping around nothing—the sudden emptiness. he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean—just his ring finger. 

then, he brought his middle, the one that’s still coated with your squirt and juice over to your lips, where he parted them. “taste yourself baby,” he murmured, slipping his finger inside your mouth where you sucked on it.

you rolled your tongue around his finger, bobbing your head—and god if it weren’t for the situation and the place the two of you were going to fuck, sunghoon would definitely make you suck his cock sloppy.

but your boyfriend and heeseung were sleeping just a few feet away—and as much as sunghoon fucking loved—and loved to fuck you—he also loved his position in the team. 

besides, there’s always next time.

this wasn’t going to be the last time sunghoon fucked you.

“take out my cock, baby,” he hissed, pulling both your pants and panties down. you shivered at the cold air that made contact with your puffy, wet pussy, shivering under his touch. sunghoon was desperate, there’s a wet patch on his grey sweats from his precum, and he couldn’t be bothered with the foreplay but fuck—

it’s you.

his girl—but you didn’t know that yet—that’s going to get her cherry popped by him. so of course he needed to treat you gently. full of love—prove that he’s better than your boyfriend.

nodding, you backed a little to settle his clothed tent just in front of your pussy. lifting yourself up a little to pull down sunghoon’s sweats and boxes, your eyes widened as his throbbing, angry, needy cock sprung out, slapping your cunt. 

precum oozed and trailed down from the tip along the side and it looked scary—scary at how that thing will be stretching and pounding your pussy. you swallowed the lump in your throat, heart thumping. “h—hoonie, you’re so…” 

sunghoon chuckled, one hand still toying with your nipple. “yeah, baby,” he groaned, his cock twitching. “i’m gonna mold your insides to the shape of my cock.” he teased, using his free hand to guide your soft hands, making you wrapped your them around his shaft.

it’s so… textured, and so big. “jerk me off a little, baby,” he murmured against your ear where he once again, rolled his tongue around the curve. “pump me a little, make him feel good.” 

you nodded obediently, beginning to stroke it. behind you, sunghoon’s breath hitched, you’re lathering his precum around his cock, and using it as lube to make it more slippery. but that wasn’t enough—”spit on it, babe.” 

you gathered a blob of saliva in your mouth, letting it fall past your lips as the warm thick liquid landed straight on the head, before it dripped down along your knuckles. “ahh, fuck, so warm,” he rasped, bucking your hips slowly to your grip.

you’re feeling confident at his reaction—you felt good. pumping his cock up and down, up and down, you gave it occasional squeezes where it’s soft, eliciting a rough moan from his chest. his heavy breathing reverberates against your back as your stroked him from the base up to the head.

“feels good, hoonie?” you bit down your lower lip, picking up your pace, his veins dragged against your soft palms. sunghoon nodded pathetically and eagerly, using both hands to fondle your tits like stressballs. “so fucking good, baby just do your thing,”

god, that boosted your ego. you pressed your thumbpad against the tip, rolling around where he’s sensitive. sunghoon bucked his hips instinctively. “there, fuck, there babe,” he breathed out, thrusting into your grip. languid strokes filled the living room, wet and sloshy. 

you played around the mushroom head, twirling your thumb, while the other hand stroked him back and forth. sunghoon felt it building up—as he quickened his pace, one last stroke of your hand made him ejaculate, shooting ropes of cum over your knuckles. 

“fuckkkkk,” he hissed, as quiet as he could and his balls pumped cum, squeezing your tits like he’s holding himself sane. you let out a soft gasp, this was the first time you’d ever seen a guy cumming up close. 

sunghoon tipped his head back as you released your grip around his dick, letting it fall limply and tapping against your pussy. slowly, you looked back over your shoulder. “hoonie… now what?” you murmured so softly and so cutely, sunghoon felt his cock twitch again. 

his spine straightened as he leaned forward, pressing his back against you. “what do you wanna do baby?” his lips ghosted over your lips. “tell your hoonie.” he continued, pecking your lips. heat rushed to your face as you bit down your bottom lip. 

“i… want your cock inside my pussy,” you whispered shyly, leaning to take his lips in yours. sunghoon grinned, “whatever you want.” he wrapped his hand around his cock to guide it to your pussy, teasingly rubbing the wet head between your pussy lips.

you moan softly, whimpering, “you’re such a tease,” the sensation was not the ideal amount of friction, but teasing felt so good—like the rising action before the climax. sunghoon chuckled, watching as his head collected and mixed with your juices. 

“if you let me fuck you like a boyfriend, i’ll fuck you stupid,” he murmured into your ear, teasing you as he slipped in the head, then pulled out. you couldn’t take it anymore—nodding and turning your head to kiss sunghoon on the lips, you were about to do just anything to lose your virginity tonight.

“mmhm—mmhm, please, you can be my boyfriend hoonie,” you pleaded, grinding your pussy along his cock. fuck—that was all that sunghoon’s ever wanted to hear. he’s done playing the side bitch for the last two months. 

grabbing ahold of your hip, sunghoon’s cockhead pushed past your entrance where it stretched her again. 

“hah—!” you half–whispered, half–gasped, feeling sunghoon’s cock slowly getting buried deeper, and deeper until the curve of your ass made contact with his pelvis. “my fucking goood,” he whined, letting it still for you to adjust yourself, walls clenching at the sudden fullness. “so tight, baby, holy shit,” 

you knew he was big, but fuck did he grow inside? you should’ve seen this coming the second his cock sprung out of his sweats.

“i’ll let you move first, baby,” he nipped your jaw, one hand circling your pussy to help you loosened, the other fondling your tit. fuck sunghoon loved your boobs. “don’t wanna hurt my pretty girl,” 

you nodded, slowly began grinding back and forth, stirring your hips in circle. “s’big hoonie,” you whimpered, going in all directions. the pace of your grinding gradually picked up as sunghoon started rocking his hips too in short and deep thrusts.

he shifted in his seat, sitting up right and comfortably. then, his hands slid under your things, fingers curling possessively as he lifted you easily, guiding you higher on his lap. 

sunghoon began thrusting his cock back and forth, in and out of your wet pussy. so wet it slipped back in perfectly with no resistance. “ah fuck,” he rasped, laboured breathing at your back combined with the wet sounds connecting from where your skins met.

he hefted up your legs, almost pushing them to either side of your head, but your flexibility could only go so far. sunghoon drove into you at a pace, balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every thrust. 

you moaned, playing with your own tits as you tried muffling your moans with one hand. this new angle allowed sunghoon to reach and hit deeper inside, knocking on your cervix that it jerked your body upward. 

it also just hit you that you were displayed so erotically in front of your sleeping boyfriend and his friend. the second jay fluttered his eyes open—he’d instantly be greeted with the sight of his girlfriend being fucked reverse cowgirl by his own bestfriend.

alcohol couldn’t even be blamed. 

“harder, hoonie, deeper,” you drooled, tits bouncing with each pound of sunghoon’s cock. sunghoon obeyed, picking up his pace, his cock was barely seen before it disappeared again, engulfed by your needy pussy. 

“shit, i love you so much,” he confessed, licking your saliva that slipped at the corner of your lip. it’s disgusting, but it’s you, so who gave a fuck, really?

sunghoon was pounding into you so hard it felt like he was going to tear your body apart. your g–spot was being stimulated with every graze of his cock. while he felt like his cock was going to burst if you kept clenching and gripping around it like a vice. 

his grip on yours was like iron, not letting you move an inch as he did all the work—slamming his cock deep inside you that you swore he was trying to rearrange your guts.

“oh my god, oh god,” you cried out, arching your back as you tipped your head on sunghoon shoulder. his speed increased, and rapidly reaching at a pace he didn’t know existed. “you’re gonna cum baby?” he hummed, mixed with panting and heavy breathing as he kissed your temple.

you nodded, the air was being fucked out of your lungs that it’s hard to even form a simple yes—you squeezed your eyes shut, eyelids fluttering with each time sunghoon’s cock pistoned into you.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum too,” he hissed almost painfully, your walls spasmed around him unforgivingly as you rode out your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hips began to stutter, and so were his grip on your thighs. 

“uh huh, hoonie, please, please, cum inside—are you going to cum inside me?”

sunghoon cocked a brow, before a chuckle left his lips. “yn baby,” he licked a long stride of your cheek. “if i give you a creampie, you’ll get knocked up with my baby,” he groaned softly at the thought, slamming his cock. 

“smart girls like you should know that we should get married first.”

gosh—you weren’t in your right mind anymore. it was as if sunghoon’s cock had messily scattered all the knowledge inside your brain, he truly was fucking you dumb and stupid. 

the tip of his cock kissed your cervix—and with one brutal slam that knocked the air out of your lungs, sunghoon immediately hefted you up, his cock sprung out wobbly and almost instantly, shot out a second round of cum ropes on your tummy.

decorating your pussy with thick white semen, you let out a gush of wetness on sunghoon’s pelvis—your moans being muffled by sunghoon’s hand. he knew you would let out the sexiest sound known to man, but he couldn’t risk you being caught and humiliated. 

your legs trembled as sunghoon milked every drop out of his pulsing cock. twitching as they softened on your cunt. 

chests heaving and exhausted, you collapsed on sunghoon’s chest. he gently let go of your legs, settling you between his legs as his cock pressed against your bag. “oh my god,” you panted, resting your head against sunghoon’s chest.

he pulled down your shirt before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up slightly closer. nuzzling into the warmth of the crook of your neck, sunghoon gently kissed your skin, rubbing circles on your tummy. 

“how’s that. baby?” he hummed, getting all giddy and jittery. you lolled your head lazily, holding his hands that rested on your stomach. “feels s’good…” you mumbled, slowly feeling your eyelids growing heavier. 

sunghoon kissed your cheek with a soft mwah—”don’t sleep on me yet,” he murmured, lips grazing your flesh. “still gotta get my girlfriend cleaned up.” 

in front of you, jay groaned softly, getting comfortable on the sofa—still not awakened.