#evan lee

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Being the group’s leader wasn’t your choice.

But you were their choice. You were the oldest. The trainee with the longest training period. The ace, all-rounder — you name it. You’re that mysterious trainee who had garnered quite a popularity during your pre-debut days. Appearing in your senior’s music video and modelling for brands gave you exposure. It made everyone anticipate your debut and you actually have been preparing for a debut — they just needed the right members for you. 

As soon as you debuted in a six-member group, you immediately carried the weight of being the leader and center of the group. It was a responsibility that was given to you without a second thought.

There was pressure, of course. You have to guide your members in music shows, interviews, and variety shows, give them advice and such, and be that someone who they can lean on. The good thing was, the adjustment felt natural, given that you’ve been taking care of them during your trainee days.

Your members looked up to you. You’re the eldest member. Their loving and caring sister who listened to their worries. The one who gives them advice whether it be improving their skills or just something small or irrational, you’re there to listen to them. You assure them that you’ll be there for them, no matter what happens.

Well, except for one thing.

You have boundaries too. You didn’t mind going out late-night for some snack run or listening to their worries despite the lack of sleep — but becoming one’s babysitter when it comes to unnecessary side quests that could ruin the  group’s image? That’s where you draw the line.

But here you are, parking your manager’s car (which you borrowed and hopefully don’t get recognized by your fans) in the underground parking of a dormitory building. You could feel your hands cold and sweaty, nervous about what you’re about to do — actually, what your member is about to do.

The youngest, whose smile was wide, giggled as she removed the seatbelt of her seat. She looked at you like you hung the stars in the skies and you’re internally cursing yourself why her cuteness is your weakness.

“Thank you so much, unnie! I’ll be back before twelve I promise —”

“What do you mean? I am coming with you,” you cut off, which made her excited expression turn into something horrified.

“But you didn’t need to!” she exclaimed, ears red in embarrassment, but you rolled your eyes.

“I agreed on one condition, and that is I am coming with you inside their dorm, there’s no way I am letting you walk into a boy group’s dorm alone,” you explained.

“But they’re nice! You’ve met them!” she defended and yes, you did meet them, numerous times, at music show hallways and show festivals but those were just a few seconds greeting and bowing to each other. 

In that scale, you barely know them at all.

“They’re still boys,” you pointed out before removing your seatbelt and glancing at her once again. “What? Are you going to sit there or do you want to go up?”

“This is embarrassing,” she mumbled under her breath as she opened the door of the car and left.

“Just be thankful that I had agreed to this,” you snarled at her and although your tone was filled with irritation, you’re not mad at her, of course, you could never be mad at your members. The situation was just annoying and too surreal for you.

Your group’s youngest is finally now an adult and the next thing you knew, she wanted to experience sex — with a boy group member of all the people out there, of course, why are you even surprised? It’s a common event in the industry. The hidden romance, one-night stands, and hookups within idols. 

It shouldn’t surprise you at all. After all, you had that same experience too, during your rookie days with a senior who’s two years older than you. Let’s just say that the experience was disappointing enough that you never did it again and at the same time, you had to warn your members about boy group members. 

Despite that, you’re not in total control of them and their bodily desires. Mistakes happen and experiences differ, giving them a heads-up and advice should suffice. If ever their first time would be a failure, that’s not your problem at all, at least you told them so.

The other members had gone through the same thing too, results differed from each of them but now, it’s the youngest member’s turn to do so. You couldn’t fathom the thought but she’s already twenty! Things like this are pretty normal and yet, your leader instincts convinced you to be more protective of her compared to the rest.

Maybe, you just couldn’t accept the fact that the youngest is not your baby anymore. It seems like yesterday you’re helping her with her homework during trainee days but now she’s going to have sex with a male idol. It’s like putting a gun on your head.

Oh well. You convinced yourself that this is bound to happen either way. The only thing you should worry about is for her to not be caught, hence why you insist on accompanying her…all the way to the dorm. It was a reach but you’re not going to let her enter a boy group’s dormitory alone too. A boy group’s dormitory feels like a den of lions in reality.

You watched as she pressed the ringbell of the door, shaking on her feet like a child filled with sugar rush. She was giddy and excited, her smile was wide and bright that it reminded you of the first time you went to your ex-boyfriend’s dormitory.

You just wished that she doesn’t end up like you.

The door opened a minute later. Revealing to you a tall man wearing a casual loose shirt and sweatpants. His eyes landed on your co-member and you saw how his smile brightened as he greeted her. 

“Come in,” he said, opening the door wider, letting the two of you in, wherein he greeted you for formality and you reciprocated it immediately.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought her with me,” your youngest shared, her voice high-pitched and sweet, obviously, sweetening her way to her boyfriend.

“Oh, it’s okay — please, make yourself at home,” Riki said to you before he guided you towards the couch. You sat there, the leather creaking against your weight.

You watched as Riki went to the kitchen area, and returned with a bottle of water, some sweet pastries and a fruit cup. He told you that he had bought it for you, which you find sweet. Thanking halfway, Riki told you that you’re free to watch movies or maybe play games on their tv — just feel at home. He repeated.

“We'll be in Riki's room now,” your fellow member said, excited and jumpy as she held her boyfriend’s hand, and just like her, Riki seemed giddy about what they’re going to do. 

God, looking at them, you feel like a parent whose daughter is going out on her first date, except she’s going to do something worse. The image probably’s going to scar you for life.

“Okay, be safe,” was the only thing you said, before you watched them go to the first door in the left hallway which you assumed was Riki’s room. 

Silence immediately follows through. You were accompanied by the stillness that devoured you in just a minute. The only thing you could do was grab the fruit cup and eat it. Hoping it’ll ease your tense body that’s nervous for your youngest. She said they’d be done around twelve — which means you have four hours to kill time.

Your peaceful moment was cut-off when you heard the door open. You freezed when footsteps became louder and louder until from the other hallway, a man stepped out, confused and surprised to see you.

The first thing you did was stand up, bow and greet him, since he was your senior. He seemed surprised by you but immediately greeted you and gave you a bow too.

“Heeseung, from Enhypen,” he introduced, exiting out of the hallway and going within your proximity. 

“I know, I’m y/n from Krave,” you introduced back, and his eyes widened.

“Oh! You sang ‘more’ right? That song’s been in my playlist since then,” Heeseung shared with a smile.

You smiled at the thought. “Thank you for listening to our songs sunbae.”

“Please, drop the sunbae, we’re in our dorm — also you can talk to me casually, we’re same-aged right?” the man replied casually.

You nodded, “right. Okay.” 

“You wanted something to eat? I’m going to make ramen, do you want some?” he offered and you shook your head.

“It’s okay, I already had a fruit cup, and I’m on a diet too,” you told him. 

He eyed the food on the table for a second before he remembered. “So I supposed the girl Riki’s with, is your member?”

You chuckled before nodding, “Yeah, I couldn’t let her go here alone, it kinda scares me.”

“I understand your sentiments, but Riki’s a good kid,” he pointed out.

“I know, I was just being careful, she’s our maknae, that’s why I’m too protective towards her,” you explained.

“Of course you are.” he smiled before going towards the kitchen. That made you sit on the couch and focus on your cup but minutes later Heeseung showed up once again.

“I felt lazy cooking tonight, so might as well accompany you,” he sat casually next to you like you two were friends. You were startled, but Heeseung didn’t seem to notice your flustered self as he opened the pack of gummy bears that he grabbed instead, then offered you some which you declined. 

You took the water bottle and took a few sips on it. The living room was quiet and serene, a deep contrast to whatever the hell was happening inside Riki’s room. You couldn’t help but to look at your watch, it’s barely an hour passed — why is time slow here suddenly?

“You alright?” Heeseung asked, and you only smiled bitterly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you lied before taking another few sips and then placing it back on the table. You focused on the fruit cup while Heeseung’s halfway with his candy. The two of you fell into an awkward silence once again.

“Can I ask why you are here?” you asked out of nowhere, curiosity lingering in your mind. “Are you and Riki, dormmates?” 

“Well, I’m on babysitting duty too,” Heeseung said with a chuckle. “Everyone else is in the other dorm but Riki insisted that I stay in case of…emergencies, I don’t know what he meant but maybe he felt more at ease if I’m around.”

“That’s kinda sweet, he looks up to you,” you pointed out but Heeseung laughed at your words.

“It feels surreal that he’s going to do the deed. It seems like yesterday, he’s this small duckling who sleeps on my bed because he couldn’t sleep in his bed alone.” Heeseung shared, and you nodded, sharing the same sentiments that he does.

“I feel the same way,” you agreed. “They’re growing up aren’t they? It’s kinda scary. Growing in this industry isn’t helpful either.”

“I get you, that’s why it’s better to guide them and be always there right?”

“Right,” you nodded, ending the talk with you shoving another slice of apple into your mouth. Heeseung shoved a few jellies in his mouth, letting both of you settle with the dead air that came suddenly.

“So…do you do this with your other members?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere, and you shook your head as an answer.

“Only to her, you could see how protective I am, right? How about you? I’m sure your other members have brought girls in your dorm,” you asked him back and just like you, he shook his head in response.

“Numerous times, but this is the first time I did babysitting duty, which is weird since I thought Riki would like some privacy like the others, so I’m surprised that he asked me to stay,” he explained.

“His first time right?” Heeseung nodded at your question and you were a bit relieved since that means they’ll be each other’s first. The thought was kinda cute for you.

“Well, it’s her first time too, I guess they’re still scared…but determined,” you stated, earning a short laugh from Heeseung.

“I like how you described it that way,” he pointed out, making you chuckle.

But your conversation halted when a bunch of lewd, sinful noises came out of Riki’s room. Your eyes widened as the filthy sound slid inside your ears. 

“Oh my god,” that was the only thing you could say, while Heeseung laughed at your reaction.

“Here, this should help us cover up the noise,” Heeseung opened the television and clicked whatever channel’s available. He turned on the volume louder, hoping that it’ll muffle the noise.

But it was still too loud. Their dirty talks, the incoherent sounds, and how the bed banged against the wall. It made you extremely uncomfortable that you were frozen in your place. 

“Why are they so loud!?” you huffed in annoyance. “Oh my god! I couldn’t bear to hear it.”

“I guess Riki got some game,” Heeseung chuckled and you scoffed.

“That is such a boy respond of you.” you told him and he looked at you, offended.

“Woah hey, that hurts you know?”

“You seemed not offended by it.”

“A little, but I do admit it’s kinda gross hearing them do ‘it’” Heeseung answered.

You didn’t say anything but instead, turn on the volume louder but still, the sounds wouldn’t leave your ears, making you groan in annoyance again.

“I wanted to tell them to lower it down but that’s too much,” you complained once again before rubbing your face in hopes to remove all of the sinful sounds your ears had heard. 

Heeseung’s eyes never left you. He noticed how inaudibly uncomfortable you were. He couldn’t help but to look for a solution to it.

That is if you’re willing to agree to it.

“I know this might sound like a sketchy suggestion, but do you want to come to my room?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.

You turned your head towards him, surprised. “What?”

“My room? It’s on the opposite side, so the sound would be muffled but we can just turn on some music so that it’ll bury the noise further.” Heeseung pointed to the other hallway that contained a few doors. It was far from Riki’s room but you hesitated to answer.

It’s a fucking trap. You insist. Heeseung may look all-innocent with his soft voice and bambi-like eyes but you have to constantly remind yourself that he is still a guy at the end of the day. God knows what he’d do to you in his room.

But for desperate measures? Maybe it’s not that bad at all, he did say that it’s a sketchy suggestion, Heeseung knows that his offer sounded weird to you. But would you rather listen to your co-member get dicked for the following hours? No fucking way.

“Fine,” you answered and you noticed how Heeseung’s eyes widened.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, but just so you know, I know hapkido,” you told him that it made him stop, stared at you, and nodded slowly.

“Thank you for the heads up.”

You stood up first before he did. You followed him towards the opposite hallway, away from Riki’s room, and fortunately, his room is at the end of the hallway.

“It’s not that cool, just giving you a heads up,” Heeseung shared before opening the door and letting you inside.

It was huge yet minimalist. The typical room setup — a bed, closet, drawer cabinet, and of course, a pc setup complete with a computer chair. There weren’t any decorations, the only odd thing about his room was the stack of gaming keyboards on his floor.

“Nice…room,” you commented. It smelled like his perfume along with some fabric conditioner which you didn’t mind at all. You stood at the corner awkwardly before Heeseung closed the door then proceeded towards his pc.

“I’ll play some music, see? You could barely hear them,” Heeseung said as he opened a music browser and looked for some songs. That’s when you noticed the noise was barely audible — it was almost mute which made you relax for a moment.

“Any suggestions?” he asked as he scrolled through Spotify.

“...Maybe some pop music?” you answered.

“I’ll just play some The Weeknd,” he clicked one of his playlist, and a familiar song from the said artist filled the whole room, completely burying the obscenity that’s happening a few rooms away.

“You listen to him?” you asked.

Heeseung nodded with a smile. “Huge fan — oh, you could sit on my bed, I don’t mind,”

“Only if you don’t sit beside me,” you said as you made your way towards his bed. It was soft and clean, Heeseung looked like he didn’t mind that you were in your outside clothes too.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll just relax here,” he insisted, sitting on the gaming chair. He made himself relaxed, with his legs criss-cross on the seat while he leaned against the backrest.

Silence devoured you two. The only noise you could hear was the song playing from his speaker. You two stared at each other, not moving nor talking, which you found relaxing and yet, you couldn’t help but to notice how Heeseung stared at you way too long than he should.

“You seem guarded,” he observed and that made you let out a nervous chuckle.

“Why should I not? I am in a boy group member’s room,” you shared.

“First time?”

“No, of course not, just reminds me of my first time though,” you answered honestly.

“Care to share?”

You pondered for a moment. “You won’t laugh?”

“I promise, scouts’ honor,” Heeseung said, even crossing his heart which made you laugh.

“Are you even one?”

Heeseung faintly shrugged, “Well, we did an en-o’clock episode about it, does that count?”

“Whatever but long story short, I dated a senior of ours, been going out for months and then decided to just let him be my first…but it was so fucking bad then he dumped me three days later.” you shared. 

“What the fuck?” it was the only thing that came out of Heeseung’s lips. Disbelief written on his face.

You nodded at his reaction, “after that I cursed every boy group member and their ability to charm girls but underperformed when it comes to sex.”

“...You didn’t get to cum, I assume,” you nodded at his words.

“Aside from that, it didn’t feel intimate to me, it’s like, he’s just using me to get off,” you added.

“Wow, and he had the audacity to dump you?”

“Yeah, it was so bad that it didn’t even last an hour, no foreplays, just a short makeout — he was just eager to get his dick wet!”

Heeseung laughed at your story but you didn’t feel embarrassed nor offended by his laugh, he seemed amused by how you detailed your experience. That’s when he finally understood why you’re so protective over your co-member, you just didn’t want them to experience the same thing that happened to you. 

“You didn’t meet anyone after that?” Heeseung asked.

You shook your head as answer. “Well, obviously, he broke my heart. So I rejected any idols who asked for my number, plus with the continuous tours and comebacks, I didn’t have any time at all, my focus was on my group.”

“So, that was the last time you had sex, I’m assuming,” Heeseung pointed out.

“Yup.”

“Never thought about it again?” he asked.

“You heard my story, if I’d do it, I’d do it with…I guess someone who’s not an idol?” you said with uncertainty.

“His dick game was really that bad?” 

That’s when you agreed. “So fucking bad, I’d like to think that all male idols are that bad.”

“Not me though.” Heeseung casually replied.

His words made you scoff in disbelief. “Of course you’d say that,”

“Well, you wouldn’t know unless you actually tried it,” he pointed out.

You halted for a minute. Eyebrows furrowed at him. “What?”

Heeseung looked at the clock, “we have a lot of time to spare before midnight, I was suggesting that you might want to, relax for a bit,”

You stared at him appalled while Heeseung seemed so casual about what he just said. 

“Are you asking me to have sex with you?”

“You could say no if you want to, but the offer’s open,” Heeseung answered and you rolled your eyes before another scoff escaped your lips.

“You’re just like any other male idol,” you stated.

“Have you slept with other boy group members?” Heeseung asked tauntingly that it made you quiet for a moment. He smirked, infuriatingly and yet, you remained seated.

“Right, so why would you stick with that one experience? Come on, not attached to this one, unless you’re the type to have emotional attachment when it comes to sex, I’ll let you off the hook,” Heeseung convinced.

Has the room always felt warm? You don’t know why there’s chills on your nape and your hands clamming with sweat. Why is there a sudden shift in the air and your heart’s racing rapidly, that in a blink, you felt convinced.

“What’s in for me?” you muttered.

“Like I told you, maybe you should relax for a moment, you’re tense and guarded,” Heeseung pointed out.

“I should be tense, my youngest’s having sex with her boyfriend, I’m in Enhypen’s dormitory — specifically inside your room, who knows your sasaengs are lurking around your place and caught us sneaking,” you explained.

“You’re safe here, don't worry, and right now, just think of yourself, just for four hours, think of yourself not the eldest and leader of Krave, just you,” he insisted and something about the way he talked almost made you fold for him.

“I’m starting to wonder how many girls have you persuaded and slept with by just how you convince me,” you said. 

The smirk on his lips widened, teasing. “Oh, so you’re convinced? Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the second girl I’ve ever slept with.," 

You stared at him for a moment. Heeseung tilted his head sideways, observing you and yet his stare didn’t have any weight on it. He looked at you like you’re the brightest moon tonight — not just a girl he seemed to eager to fuck.

That thought made you spin. He looked so alluring that you’re lost for words. Then he gestured to you to come to him. You don’t know why but you stood up, went to him and your hands intertwined with his. 

“I’m not gonna push you if you don’t want it, you could take a rest on my bed and I’ll wake you up after they’re done, but you know, I could make you release stress in some other ways too,” he explained, tone filled with genuinity that your heart betrayed you that moment because sleeping with him is just an option. 

You can say no to him. He’s giving you a choice to say no, but he’s also offering you to relax, let yourself melt and remove all the tense feeling in your shoulders. Just you. Heeseung said. Not the eldest member of your group, not the leader who’s on babysitting duty tonight.

“Are you sure about that?”

“A hundred percent, I won’t ask you if I am not sure,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

“You better give me a good reason to trust you Lee Heeseung.” you whispered to him.

“And if I told you that once you got a taste of me, there’s no turning back now?”

You hummed and he pulled you close, losing your balance and hoisting you up to straddle on his lap. You gasp at his boldness and yet, you didn’t move nor struggle.

Because a part of you was dying to feel what good sex feels like. Hearing your fellow member’s sex life and stable, healthy relationships with their significant others, you wonder when you will experience that same kind of bliss again.

If Heeseung, one of the popular k-idols in the industry, is offering you good sex especially with that body and face, who are you to say no?

“You’re with me?” he asked, brushing the stray hairs away from your face. You nodded, staring at him made you bite your lip and he seemed amused by how you’re still maintaining your composure.

“I need words sweetheart, do you want this?” he repeated.

“I…do, please,” you muttered, almost mute, and yet, you felt determined.

With your words, Heeseung’s smile turned into a smirk, hands brushing your cheek as his stare lingered for too long. “Good, let’s take it slow baby.”

Heeseung closed the gap first. Your breath halted the moment his lips landed on yours. It was soft, thick, tasting sweet and citrus like the gummy bears he was eating earlier. His arms wrapped around yours tighter as he pushed himself deeper against you, earning a choked sound from you.

He broke out of the kiss, worried as he looked at you to find any discomfort. “Too fast?”

“No, just surprised,” you answered, giving him a smile, in which he sighed and chuckled.

“Good, that’s good, just follow my lead, alright?” With that, he kissed you once again, same as the pace earlier, giving you time to adjust and sink everything that you’re here, on Heeseung’s lap, making out with him.

That’s when you moved, hands finding security on his shoulder as you moved your lips to respond to his. You could feel him smirking against you, but you pay no attention to it but instead, let your lips move along the rhythm he made.

Suddenly, the room felt hot and you became more hyperaware of Heeseung. It wasn’t just his mouth that’s moving around, you could feel his arms that used to be around your waist, slowly caressing every skin it could trail, making you flinch when his cold hands went underneath your shirt, just around your back then returning to the soft plush of your waist.

Your heart was racing at what would come next, especially when you could feel something rigid and hard underneath. The sudden awareness made you shift your position, earning a groan from Heeseung. 

“Sorry —” he shuts you off with a kiss before darting his attention towards your jawline, wet, loud kisses planted over your neck where you were most sensitive. You whine at his action, hands gripping his shoulder hard and still, you didn’t push him but instead, you let yourself fall under his touch.

“No marks please,” you whispered to him as you felt him sucking the skin near your collarbones. You felt him laughing against it before he lifted up his head towards you.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t cause you any trouble,” he winked at you after his words and you could swear you felt your cheeks flush.

“It’s getting hotter here isn’t it?” Heeseung teased as he played with the hem of your shirt. “Would it be nice for us to loosen up, right?”

“Right,” you croaked before slowly, your shaky hands found the end of your shirt and without any thought, you stripped it off, leaving you in your bra.

You noticed how Heeseung’s eyes stayed on your chest for a good minute, clearing your throat, he shifted his look towards you before a chuckle left his lips.

Heeseung did the same, throwing his shirt somewhere, baring to you his lean, naked torso and defined muscles that seem well-cared by him. You’re not new to male idols and their tendency to expose their body, but seeing Heeseung’s naked body this close made you flustered all of the sudden.

“Can I?” he asked as his hands played with the strap of your bra. You didn’t answer him but instead unclasped the clothing all by yourself. Your heart was loudly pounding and tightening as you shrugged off your bra before letting it fall on the ground. 

Heeseung captured your lips once again, and this time he was more impatient — there was a sudden strike of hunger in the way he kissed you. Torrid, reckless but still, it ignited the heat pooling inside you, hence, you battled against his lips. It felt more dangerously addictive that you couldn’t help but to lean downwards on him, hands cupping his cheeks to get a better taste.

Heeseung seemed pleased with your hunger, letting you dominate him as he busied himself with your breasts. Playing with the right side, he felt how you mewl on his lips, giving him a more plea to play with it. Heeseung flickered the hardened buds with his thumb, making you gasp as you felt the shock traveling towards your body.

The sensation slowly turned you into a needy collection of nerves. Everything’s burning and painful, especially on your core, that you couldn’t help but to buck your hips against Heeseung’s thighs. The sudden thrust halted Heeseung — and so did you.

“Shit,” you cursed, embarrassment washed all over you because of the act. “Did I — sorry, I couldn’t —”

“Hey, it’s okay, just surprise,” he assured, biting his lips because your eagerness actually felt wondrous for him. He could feel his sweats tightening, and there’s that urge for him to free his cock from its strain, but with you, he wanted to take things slow and messy.

“Do that again for me, pretty, can you?” he asked, hands on your waist as if he was guiding you to move your hips once again.

You rolled your hips slowly this time. A loud gasp left your lips as your core grinded directly on his hard cock. Your clit was getting rubbed against your wet panty that you couldn’t help but to move once again, finding friction despite the clothed barrier between you two.

“Fuck — more, harder baby, feel how hard cock against you right?” Heeseung moaned, making you move harder and deeper, too lost in the sensation that you never felt before.

“It’ll be better if we take off our clothes baby, is that okay?” Heeseung suggested, making you stop.

“Oh…if that’s okay with you,” you told him.

“Whatever you want, baby, I’d like that too,” he answered and you found yourself getting off his lap.

You unbutton your shorts and push it down in an awkward manner, kicking it off along with your socks while Heeseung stood up from his seat and untied the drawstrings of his sweats. He left himself in his playboy boxer and your eyes wouldn’t leave the sight.

The print indicated that he was big. His cock was already standing tall, hard and straining against the cloth but it seemed like Heeseung didn’t care about it, not when he pulled you towards his bed and made you sit on his lap again. Now, in a more thinner barrier of both undergarments, you could feel him further — the length, its hardness, and how warm it is against your clothed cunt.

“Have you ever tried this one?” he asked, making you burst out in a fit of laughter.

“Did you say that on purpose?” you raised an eyebrow, hands brushing his messy blonde hair.

“You looked nervous, hope it’ll lessen the tension,” Heeseung observed and your lips thinned into a small smile.

“Well maybe I am slowly starting to be convinced,” you whispered to him, you felt him shift underneath, hands tightening on your waist while your hands caressed his face.

He smirked, “Convinced what?”

“That your dick game is good,” you teased before closing the gap. Heeseung reciprocated it immediately, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow as you started to move your hips in a slow, precise motion where your cunt grinds through his thick shaft.

“Can I?” he asked in between your kisses, his hands trailing around the curve of your ass, and you nodded eagerly, letting him squeeze the soft flesh as he guided you to hump further on him.

The anticipation heated in your body further. There’s that weird churn that slowly rises from your stomach that you could no longer ignore. Moving on your own, you humped on Heeseung’s lap like a rabbit in heat, while simultaneously capturing his lips in a more torrid and passionate manner.

You could feel it, your body getting sticky with sweat, Heeseung’s deep groans every time your cunt brushed on his shaft. He felt you on the edge that his hands found its way towards your waist and helped you move more precisely on his lap. 

“Want to see you get off just from humping on my cock,” Heeseung stated in between your kisses. He stopped and looked up to you, and you observed how starstruck he was. The thought made you whine as your hips never stop, chasing after that broiling heat on your core.

“Shit! — H-heeseung,” you whimper, already a mess as your eyes turned glassy while your body’s becoming too sensitive. You shifted yourself higher, nudging his head with your clit, making both of you moan in unison.

“Right there baby — fuck! Look at your panties, all wet and ruined for me.” Heeseung taunted as he kissed the shell of your ear, the act felt sweet and fluttering against the obscene act you two were doing.

“O-oh! oh my god — I —”

“Go on baby, come for me,” his words felt like a command because in just a second, something snapped inside your stomach and a never-felt sensation took over your body. You freezed at the sudden feeling, holding tightly on Heeseung’s shoulder while he watched you fall apart on top of him. 

“Great?” he asked while you were sinking in what just happened. 

“I — wait…wow,” you muttered, catching your breath while your body tense around him. Slurring mindlessly as you still haven't processed your orgasm while Heeseung watched you patiently.

“You alright? Do you want to rest for a bit?”

“What about you?” you asked, seeing that he’s still hard and aching.

“Oh me? Don’t worry, I’m just giving you time to rest and process everything,” from there, his gaze sharpened, something on him shifted. “We were just getting started after all.”

“I should get you off too,” you convinced but he shook his head.

“Y/n, this is all about you alright? Don’t worry about me,” he insisted.

“That sounds unfair.”

“We have hours for me to get off sweetheart, but for now, let’s just help you relax,” he didn’t let you rebut more. The next thing you knew, your back thud against his bed’s mattress before he hovered over you.

Your heart stopped for a moment, gazing at him who’s naked, sweaty, yet insanely, godlike as he stared at you as if you’re his meal tonight.

“Just lay there and be pretty for me,” he smirked and your heart was beating at the thought of what he was about to do. 

You watched as he gazed upon you for a second before rolling out his tongue, and started flickering your nipples while his other hand rolled the other side — all while maintaining eye contact with you.

“Hee —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when he latched his mouth on the right mould of your breast. Sucking the nipples hard and needy before releasing it with a loud pop.

Heeseung abandoned your breast that moment. Leaving a lighthearted kiss in the middle before he started kissing your underboobs, then darting towards your stomach, until his mouth reached your navel — and then he stopped, eyeing on your panty before looking at you as if he was asking for permission.

Oh. 

“You’re gonna go down on me?” you asked, flustered.

“Do you not want me to?” he asked you back.

“No, just — fine, I trust you,” you answered, nervous and yet, curious at the feeling of someone going down on you.

“If it’s too overwhelming just tug my hair twice or thrice,” Heeseung instructed and that made you let out a chuckle.

“Why does it sound like you want your hair getting pulled?”

But Heeseung quickly hushed you, “that’s between you and me sweetheart.”

Without a word, his hands trailed on the waistline of your panty, tugging it down in one swift movement, leaving you completely naked. Instantly, you closed your legs but Heeseung casually grabbed your thighs, pushing it open for him. 

He stared at your puffy, still sensitive pussy, twitching at nothing before glance at you, looking naive and innocent as you lay gorgeously in his bed. Heeseung swore he almost cum at the sight. He could feel his hard cock aching to be released, twitching harder due to its sensitivity, but he chose to ignore it as he lay down flat on his stomach.

You weren’t able to do anything when he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to him. His fingers found their way to your entrance, sliding on its lips up to its clit where he felt your legs shudder at the sudden contact.

Heeseung didn’t say anything — the next thing you felt was his tongue swiping upright on your cunt. The sudden action made you moan so loud that it echoed inside the room. You slapped your mouth hard in embarrassment while Heeseung chuckled faintly before giving your core another fat stripe.

“Don’t cover those sounds pretty, let me hear it,” Heeseung ordered, looking up to you with his eyes sharper than earlier. Your heart started to pound as you quickly nodded to his words. Heeseung seemed satisfied, lowering his head once again to devour your cunt with much devotion — leaving you breathless and spewing a series of breathy moans.

The sensation felt new to you, more intimidating yet hot to the core. It didn’t help that you could hear how lewd and loud Heeseung fucks your cunt using his tongue. The wet, slurping sound should’ve disgusted you but the feeling was undeniably heavenly that it made your toes curled. 

“Holy shit, Heeseung!” you screamed, too loud and whiny as you grabbed a fistful of his hair before tugging it once. The action made the man groan against your pussy, sending shockwaves on his cock — feeling it more needy and aching against the flat surface of his bed, Heeseung could help but to grind his cock against it. It was begging for release that his hips started to move on its own. 

The two of you are too lost in chasing one’s pleasure. Heeseung’s tongue never left your pussy not once, burying his face further as he focused on flickering that little bundle of nerves, and at the same time, his hips continued rocking back and forth chasing his own high. It didn’t help that you’re pulling his hair harder than before, the sensation only made his cock throb harder as everything’s becoming too much on his side.

You came first, in a soft high-pitched whine as Heeseung removed his tongue and instead, sucked your clit hard. His tongue rolled around the bud as his lips drank every juice your cunt released. He didn’t stop, not even when you’re tugging his hair too tight that his scalp’s burning, it just edges him off, grunting against your cunt as his hips continue rocking against his bed.

Just in a snap, his orgasm came unexpectedly and he visibly shook, cum staining his boxers as he released nonstop after all that painful edging. His grunts were held back as Heeseung held on to your thighs tight enough that it’ll leave a bruise. You didn’t even notice that he had come, so immersed in your own pleasure that the next thing that only occurred in your almost sane mind was how Heeseung sat up on his bed, messy yet satisfied.

“Can you take more, pretty?” he asked, smirking as he moved to take off his soiled boxers, not even giving you a warning about his next move.

Your eyes went wide that it might pop out of its socket.

To say that he’s big is an understatement. Heeseung’s huge — hung, fucking hung that you froze at its sheer size. You barely remember your ex-boyfriend’s cock but suddenly, he doesn’t matter anymore, not when this one night stand had given you more than one orgasm compared to him.

“You look scared,” he teased and you didn’t react immediately.

“Will that fit?” you said, stuttering.

“We’ll make it fit,” he said as he sat next to you and before you could complain, Heeseung placed you in between his legs, his hard cock poking your back that you’re very hyperaware of. 

“Think you could give me more pretty? Let’s relax that silly head of yours, alright?” he whispered to yours as his hands trailed on your breasts, cupping it lightly while the other one stretched its way towards your pussy.

Heeseung didn’t ask for any permission at all, using his hind legs, he pushed your legs open for him, trapping your still shaking legs along with your sensitive pussy.

The first touch was light, featherlike, ticklish that a contented moan escaped your lips. Heeseung’s hands traveled on your clit, rubbing circles around it — not too rough nor too fast, just the right amount of tease that you resisted against it.

“Don’t struggle baby, just relax, are you still sensitive?” he asked softly, cooing as he rested his cheeks on your temples.

You nodded, and yet, your pussy’s still throbbing. It still hurts, gaping for something big enough that it’ll fill you completely.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I want it inside,” you answered.

“My fingers?” he asked, his delicate digits gathering slick around your pussy, protruding your entrance, almost teasing that you sighed in annoyance.

“Your cock…Heeseung, please,” you told him.

“Oh baby, as much as I want to, we got to prep you pretty girl,” he gives you a kiss on the temples before plunging one finger inside — completely contrasting the action earlier.

“We have to make sure it’ll fit your tight pussy, don’t we?” he teased, chuckling dark and low, as his finger thrusts in and out of your cunt, before sliding another one, catching you off-guard as his slender digits did scissoring actions to open your walls more.

With your cunt still sensitive from the previous orgasms, every move and curl gave nothing but continuous spasms on your body. You were squirming like a worm around Heeseung, breathing heavily as your hold on his arms tightened.

“Heeseung please,” you cried, not knowing what your plea was until he poked a specific area that made you arch your back naturally — that’s when he knew, chuckling like a tease he was before he hushed you by kissing the tears rolling down on your eyes.

“Is it too good pretty?” Heeseung asked and you don’t know what to say other than to cry louder. Whining like a kicked-out puppy as your nails dig on his skin deeper.

“You’re still tense baby, I could feel you clamping on my fingers,” he said with a gentle tone and yet his fingers were curling that area nonstop, faster and hastily that it’s bringing another intense feeling inside your cunt.

“I don’t think I could do it anymore,” you whispered to him before another moan knocked out of your lips.

“You can,” he said with confidence. “You’d do it for me, right?”

“Heeseung —”

“You’ll do it for me,” he ordered and his words did nothing but to push something out of you.

That’s when Heeseung felt it. The warm gush of liquid that your cunt released, completely messing his fingers.

“Fuck,” he said in disbelief as the smile on his face became wider.

“Oh my god, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know — god —” you weren’t able to finish your words when Heeseung kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing and tongue tasting every skin his lips could feel, making you whine at his intensity.

And as he broke out, he could see how red and swollen your lips were, making him satisfied as he leaned down for more, that’s when you held onto his shoulders, reciprocating his hunger while his fingers continued thrusting inside your cunt.

“Make a mess for me pretty, keep fucking doing that,” he commanded, curling that spot that made you squirt nonstop. He continued abusing that spot until his bed’s completely wet and your thighs were nothing but a mess, mixed with every slick and juice your pussy had released.

Without any words, you’ve reached your orgasm. A high-pitched scream echoed inside his room as your legs shook at the intensity. Heeseung didn’t stop even when your eyes were turning white, in fact, he was humming teasingly as he saw you all worn-out and melting under his touch.

“Don’t sleep on me pretty,” Heeseung said as he pulled out his fingers out of your sensitive pussy, making you cry at the sudden loss. He gently lays you down as he lets you rest for a moment, giving you ample time to breathe and relax before the real deal.

Heeseung reached out on his side table, opening the second drawer, he pulled out a strip of condoms and with much precision, snapped one and ripped the wrapper open.

He rolled the condom around his length, moaning in satisfaction as he began stroking his hard shaft, preparing himself as he crawled back to you who seemed to be still in the high of your previous orgasm.

Heeseung relaxed you for a moment, leaving soft, short kisses on your jawline and downwards your neck, giving off a ticklish sensation that made you moan quietly.

“Ready pretty?” he whispered while continuing to leave kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Hmm,” you hummed unknowingly but Heeseung didn’t stop at all.

“Words pretty, come on,” he gestured and the only thing you did was hold onto his shoulders as another whine left your lips.

“Ruin me Heeseung,” you said to him and something about what you said shifted something in Heeseung’s mind.

“Baby, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said with a smirk. “You’re already ruined, look at you.” 

He didn’t let you say another word. Heeseung pulled you into his grasp, his hard length, standing tall and proud, poking your inner thighs that you were suddenly jolted into reality.

“You don’t know that I’m just holding back from ruining you further,” Heeseung taunted, stroking his cock on your entrance. The fat tip slides teasingly on your entrance. It was warm and fuck — does it feel wondrous yet dangerously teasing. It didn’t help that Heeseung’s rubbing it at your clit at any chance he could have, making you whimper at his actions.

“Put it inside please, please Heeseung,” you whimpered, almost a cry as your hands tightly held onto his bed’s sheets.

“Relax for me first,” he ordered, spreading your legs further before gently nudging the blunt head of his dick on your entrance. He almost cursed. He could feel how his tip’s barely inside and yet, your cunt’s already hugging it tight.

Heeseung pushed it in, slow and careful, stretching your cunt open for his cock. He slides slowly, letting you adjust to its girth while your hands had crumpled the sheets hard, absolutely clueless that his fat cock’s going to rip your walls apart.

He went all the way, completely filling your pussy all the way to the end. The thought of it gave nothing but severe chills on you, and yet, you never felt this level of bliss before. 

“You with me?” he asked and you nodded feverishly.

“You’re big,” you babbled, and Heeseung only stared before letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ll start moving, alright?” he said.

“Hmm, please move,” you told him.

Heeseung slowly moved his hips. You could feel him thrusting inside you slow and gentle, careful not to hurt you as slowly, the pain inside your core was being replaced with the pleasure of how his cock penetrated your walls all the way in. 

“More please,” you blurted out. 

“More?” Heeseung teased as he grabbed your legs, placed the right one on his shoulder and the other one wrapped around his waist. The new position gave him more leverage to pound inside your tight pussy, and this time, Heeseung’s not holding back anymore.

The room’s hotter than before, and everything smelled like perfume, and body fluids. Everything’s becoming too much for you as your moans and the lustful sounds coming from Heeseung’s mouth mixed along with the way his thighs slapped on your cunt hard — additional to that, The Weeknd’s still playing in the background. 

You don’t know that you’d be able to reach this level of high. Suddenly, you couldn’t think of anything other than how Heeseung pounded on you senselessly like an animal in heat, and yet, it feels so damn heavenly. You could feel your body melting on the bed, grip on his sheet loosened and your eyes were getting drowsy, drowned in the ecstasy of the act, while Heeseung didn’t say a word as he kept on ramming his cock inside your tight cunt.

Christ. Your head’s spinning and you’re slowly levitating with the way Heeseung’s cock slides in and out of your tight pussy. Heeseung noticed it quickly, how light you feel now, only soft moans and whines escaping your lips. You were getting numbed and that only made his cock twitch in satisfaction as he pounded inside you harder than before. 

“Feels good angel? Look at you drunk on my cock, you’re barely even moving,” Heeseung taunted. Seeing you unmoving, eyes turning white as your body shakes, his mind is slowly getting into him. He thrusted harder, more precise at a certain spot that had you moaning unknowingly. 

Heeseung’s fucking you into oblivion. You don’t have total control of yourself anymore. You just placed every single amount of yourself into him while he continued to plunge his cock all the way. Both of you were already messy. Sweat mixing, and obscenity could be heard with how his cock squelched as he pounded on your dripping pussy.

If that wasn’t enough, Heeseung reached for your clit, stroking it lightly that you jolted at the pleasure. You screamed hard and loud, shouting his name as the churn in your stomach became too hard to deny at all.

“Going to come now angel?” Heeseung asked, hovering at you, almost folding the leg on his shoulder. His thrust never stopped, pounding inside you at that sharp yet precise movement that it’s the only thing you could sense despite being overstimulated.

A whimper was your answer and that was his only cue, he focused on ramming your cunt. Bruising your cervix at every brush it makes. Your walls became more tighter and warmer, clamping around his cock that Heeseung could feel his orgasm brewing too. 

“Fuck pretty —” a mixture of groan and whimper escaped his lips as he bites his lips hard, wounding it as his cock twitch sensitively. 

“Heeseung —”

“Gonna come too baby, you with me?”

You nodded, eager and greedy to chase your high. Heeseung’s hands grabbed your waist and without any thought, lifted your torso as he pounded inside you nonstop as if you were just a fleshlight to him.

The coil snapped and in just a second, both your orgasms came. Echoes of moans and cries filled the room, as your body shook feverishly at the intensity. Your legs had lost its strength, falling on the side while Heeseung gripped on your waist tight, releasing his cum inside the condom before pulling out without any thought.

He stroked his cock messily, rubbing his slit to release more of his cum, completely staining his hands and your stomach while you catch your breath. You didn’t complain further as you felt his warm cum mark you completely. 

Seconds turned, minutes passed and Heeseung laid on his back next to you. Both of you were totally ruined. Hair disheveled, bed wet with the mixture of fluids, as the high remained in your body and mind. 

“You with me?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.

You hummed as an answer. “I don’t want to move.”

That’s when Heeseung sat up from his place, glancing at you whose eyes were drowsy.

“Go take a rest, I’ll just get you some water,” Heeseung said, brushing your hair so lightly that you couldn’t help but to lean onto it.

Slowly, your eyes closed and as Heeseung watched you fall in your deep slumber, he gave you a short kiss on the cheeks before standing up to clean himself. 

-

You don’t know what time you woke up.

All you know is that you’re clothed now, the sheets were already cleaned and replaced, and there’s even a blanket thrown over you.

You tried to sinked-in where you are right now, recalling everything that happened earlier as you glance at the person who’s sitting on his computer chair, mixing some tunes on his pc — that’s when it hit you.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, and yet, that’s enough for Heeseung to turn around and look at you.

“You’re awake,” he said, relieved.

“What time is it?” you asked, looking around his room for a clock.

“It’s two-thirty,” Heeseung casually replied and yet, your eyes widened.

“What!?” 

“Well, you were knocked-out dead after we…and Riki also let his girlfriend rest, so we didn’t want to bother waking you up.” Heeseung nonchalantly explained.

“Shit, my manager’s going to kill me,” you said before standing up but almost stumbled because your legs were numb and your pussy’s sore. If it wasn’t for Heeseung who caught you immediately, you were probably on the floor now.

His arms were on your waist, helping you stand carefully while you muttered curses under your breath.

“Huh, I guess the sex didn’t help you relax at all,” Heeseung observed, seeing how agitated you were.

You stopped, remembering why you ended up oversleeping. The two of you stared at each other for a second, and that’s when you felt your heart beating fast again as the rush of blood flushed on your cheeks.

Then you remembered how he was earlier. The sex, his dick — and how he took care of you after the act. You couldn’t believe that Heeseung’s real, and you just had sex with him earlier. He really didn’t lie when he said his dick game was good.

“Sorry, I overreacted again, where is she?” you asked, guilt washing on you.

His hand loosened on your waist. He hummed, “She’s still asleep, Riki said if you woke up, we could wake her up now, would you like that?”

“Of course, thank you.”

“No problem, let’s wait outside, alright?” he suggested and you nodded. Immediately, you two went outside, returning to the living room where it’s audibly quiet now.

“Heeseung,” you called out, almost stuttering. Heeseung turned around and looked at you.

“Thank you, the sex did help me, I slept like a baby afterwards, thank you,” you said softly, almost embarrassed and yet, Heeseung smiled sweetly.

“Dick game that good?” he teased and you only chuckled.

“Yeah, fortunately,” you admitted and Heeseung laughed at your answer.

Not a few minutes later, Heeseung returned to the living room with your co-member and Riki. your worries fade out when she looks happy and satisfied that you didn’t pry further. She bid goodbye to her boyfriend, hugging him as if it’ll be the last time they’ll see each other.

Young love. You thought, watching them, that you didn’t notice Heeseung standing beside you.

“Hey,” he said, making you glance at him.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Here,” he handed you a folded paper and you looked at it confused.

“What’s this for?” you asked, opening it and seeing a number and Heeseung’s name on it.

“Just in case you have babysitting duty again,” he winked. “Or not, you know where you’ll contact me.”

You stared at him and he gave you a smile, you returned it immediately as you placed the paper in your short’s pocket, because who knows, maybe you’ll do another babysitting duty again, so might as well inform him beforehand, right?

You tilted your head back on the bed, moaning as you ran your fingers through your folds, wet sounds filling your room.

The red recording light of your laptop blinked in front of you, pointing directly at the spot where your fingers dipped into your entrance and cutting off above your bare chest. You never showed your face.

The friction sent jolts of pleasure down your back, the tight coil of heat between your legs growing with every second. 

Your free hand gripped the sheets, fingers turning white as you felt your climax approaching. You put your thumb on your clit, rubbing fast and hard circles as your orgasm crashed over you, drawing a silent gasp from your lips as your mouth dropped open. 

You arched on the bed, your breasts bouncing as you collapsed onto the mattress with a spent thud. Your breaths were ragged as you panted, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before sitting up and ending the recording. You dragged it to your drafts folder before closing your laptop and heading for the shower.

After half an hour of edging yourself on camera, you were always a sticky mess. But it was all worth it for the money. Three weeks on OnlyFans, and you were already halfway to the 1k you owed your parents for fucking up your dad's car. You had insisted that a cat ran in the road, and you just had to swerve, but your older brother Jay smelled the weed on your breath before you’d even finished your carefully constructed cover story. He’d sold you out without a second thought, almost as angry as your parents at your recklessness.

They said you were an embarrassment, a damper on the Park name. But you knew from the tinge of fear in your mother's eyes that they were mostly just scared. Scared that they could have lost you.

You swore that you’d never do it again, but it wasn’t enough. So your dad decided the best way to learn would be to take it out of your bank account. The only problem? You were hopelessly broke.

As much as you were embarrassed to admit it, you had always relied on your parents' money. While your friends all held part-time jobs in high school, you would go to the mall, dragging Jay around to buy the newest designer purse or jar of face cream you didn’t need.

And now you were months away from going to college, and after the car situation, your parents made it painfully clear they were done spoiling you. 

So you tried. You tried looking for a job, handing in your meagre resume at fast food places and clothing stores. But no one ever called you back, and you were starting to think you’d be living at home for the rest of your life.

But then, one night, at 12:23 AM, you were staring at your phone, scrolling through Instagram comments, when you saw them: a strand of those sex bots begging for followers.

A light bulb went off in your head like a spotlight, and you looked down at yourself in your oversized shirt and underwear. Why work when your best source of income was right in front of you? Your body.

By 1:00 AM, you had made an OnlyFans account, and by 2:00 AM, you had posted your first video, your skin hot and flushed after touching yourself. You watched as subscribers and tips flooded in, and by the end of the week, you had $200 in your bank account.

It shocked you how easy it was. Play with your tits, do a bit of moaning, and bam, money. 

Men were so easy.

But after a few days, you noticed that one particular account kept popping up in your feed. It always left the biggest tips and was one of the first viewers to pop up on every video. The username was simple, designed like it was meant to blend into the background: zedlover01

You didn’t think much of it; it made sense that people would have favorite creators as they do on any social media site. But you couldn’t help but be curious. Who was he? A 40-year-old man in his mom’s basement? A run-of-the-mill pervert? Or maybe he was like you, a college kid looking for a bit of a thrill.

You were sitting on the couch in the living room, brainstorming ideas to spice up your content, when the front door opened.

Jay’s voice filtered into the room, accompanied by the voices of his annoyingly attractive college friends, Jungwon and Heeseung. 

You’d always crushed on them in that quiet, thrilling way, blushing if they met your eyes too long, stomach fluttering if they said your name a certain way. It helped that they were sweet, especially Heeseung. He’d always ask if you wanted to join whatever game they were playing on the TV, if you wanted a ride somewhere, or if you wanted him to make you an extra ramen packet. Every time, his warm eyes would brush over you like gentle lapping waves on a beach, making your legs feel weak under you.

You wondered how they’d react if they knew what you did in your room every night.

“Hey y/n!” Jungwon said, plopping onto the other couch next to Jay. “How’s the job search?”

You pursed your lips, keeping your expression neutral. Of course, Jay had told them. The day Jay kept a secret from Jungwon would be the day you won the lottery.

“Ok, I’m still looking.”

Heeseung sat on the couch next to you, keeping one cushion spaced between you. “My brother works at the dollar store by the mall. I could ask him to recommend you.” 

His gentle voice swept over you, making you feel strangely relaxed. You smiled politely. “Thanks, Heeseung, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jay snorted from across the room. “y/n wouldn’t be caught dead in a dollar store. Her tastes are way too expensive.”

You glared at him. “That’s not true! Dollar stores are…nice.”

“Have you even been in one before?” Jay asked, his eyebrows raised.

You looked down at your lap. “No…”

Jay smiled. “I rest my case.”

Heeseung chuckled. “It’s ok, y/n, no pressure at all, just thought I’d ask.”

“No, no, I really appreciate it; I’m just…keeping my options open.”

For just a second, something on Heeseung’s face shifted. His eyes narrowed, an almost imperceptible flicker of knowing behind his pupils, as if—just briefly—he could see right through your lie. But then it was gone, and his easy smile returned. “Of course, I understand.”

Pretty soon, the boys had shifted to playing games. Jay pulled up Mario Golf, fitting, since the other unspoken part of your punishment was going to the course with Jay a few times a week. Your parents called it ‘sibling bonding time,’ clearly meant as a way to tame your delinquent brain, as they hoped to have your brother's sense of responsibility rub off on you. (although they didn’t say that last part out loud).

Like always, Heeseung offered you a controller, but you declined, not wanting to embarrass yourself any more times than you could control in front of him. When you played with Jay, you always ended up hitting the ball into the bunker.

The three of them took turns swinging with their Joy-Cons, the room filling with a mix of curses and celebrations as the balls either completely missed the hole or flew straight towards it. 

Heeseung was surprisingly good, and every time he stepped up to swing, your eyes traveled from the flex of his bicep up to the focused intensity in his eyes, his hair falling softly over his forehead.

He’d swing and get his ball right next to the hole, causing Jay to groan and Jungwon’s eyes to widen. Then he’d turn around, a laugh stumbling from his lips as he met your eyes. You would nod at him with an equally giddy smile, finding its way onto your face, and for just a second, you swore his gaze dropped down to your lips.

It was so brief you thought you’d imagined it, but the damage was done, and a swell of heat traveled up your neck as he sat back down next to you, the single cushion between you suddenly feeling way too small.

As you watched Jay and Jungwon take their turns, you realized you were hyperaware of Heeseung’s movements. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over every time he ran his fingers through his hair or bounced his leg, making the couch tremble under you. You just kept wondering how soft his hair was, or how much you wanted to bounce on his lap…

You inhaled sharply, wiping the image from your mind. This was not the time to be having fantasies about your brother’s best friend. 

But Heeseung noticed. 

His Bambi eyes flicked over your face, watching the way you pursed your lips and shifted in your seat. Even though you felt his gaze like a brand on the side of your face, you didn’t look at him, instead forcing yourself to watch the screen, letting Luigi’s disappointed face distract you from the needy pressure between your legs.

Then, Heeseung stood up for his last turn. He got into position, chest turned towards you, and face tilted towards the screen as he readied his shot. While the others held their breath as they looked at the screen, your gaze lingered on the slight parting of his lips, wondering how they’d taste.

Jay’s voice cut through the room. “Let’s go, zedlover01.”

You watched Heeseung’s entire body go still.

It took a few seconds for the familiarity of the name to click, but when it did, you momentarily stopped breathing.

Slowly, you raised your eyes to Heeseung’s. He had been staring at you, clearly assessing your reaction, but the second he saw the cold shock of realization on your face, he tore his eyes away like your gaze burned him. 

The action alone ruled out any coincidence. 

He glanced at Jay. “Don’t call me that.” 

Jay cocked his head, clearly confused. “But it’s your name; you use it on every game we play.”

“Is Heeseung Hyung embarrassed?” Jungwon said teasingly, noticing the line of red creeping up Heeseung’s neck.

He ducked his head, jaw tight as he looked at the screen. “Just…let me focus.”

The boys went quiet, shooting each other bewildered glances. 

You were staring at your lap, a roar of emotions running through your head that you weren’t sure how to acknowledge. Heeseung—your brother’s best friend, the boy you’d been crushing on for half of your life—had been watching you fall apart in front of a camera for weeks. And not just watching, but paying, obsessing, treating your videos like the newest episodes of his favorite show.

He’d seen you naked, he’d heard your moans, and he’d liked it. 

If Jay ever found out, he’d murder both of you. Heeseung out of anger, and you out of disappointment.

But what Jay thought was the least of your concerns. Because now Heeseung was sitting back down on the couch after he botched his shot, his cheeks the same shade as his pink hair as he scraped his palms up his thighs. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the space between you so thick with tension you thought you could cut it with one of Jay’s specialty knives. You had to escape; you had to get away from him. Just to get one second to catch your breath and process everything away from your brother's watchful gaze. 

So while Jungwon was taking his shot, you moved. You slipped off the couch and headed straight for the bathroom, feeling Heeseung’s eyes on you the entire time. Your surroundings were a blur as you moved through the house, and the second your feet hit smooth tile, you shut the door behind you, leaning your back against it and breathing deeply. 

The sounds of your panting echoed through the large bathroom, the quiet helping to calm the rapid beating in your chest. You closed your eyes, imagining Heeseung’s gentle smile curved into a silent gasp as he watched you touch yourself. You imagined him sitting with his back propped against his headboard, fingers running over his shaft as he listened to you—the girl he’d practically grown up with—fuck herself on her bed. And here he was, talking to you like nothing had changed, even though everything had. 

You cursed as you realized that just thinking about it made you wet.

A familiar, needy heat gathered between your legs, making your finger tremble as you thought about relieving yourself. You couldn’t deny that Heeseung’s face had popped into your mind a few times as you filmed—nothing detailed—just glimpses. Flashes of his hand or his warm smile, sinking into a smirk as he ran his hand up your thigh. 

You forced yourself to your feet, trying to ignore the aching pressure as you splashed some water on your face.

That’s when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

“Hello?” You said.

A soft voice sounded from the other side. “It’s me.” He paused, then added like an afterthought. “Heeseung.”

You sighed. Of course, it was him. You wanted to tell him to go away. To go back to his friends and pretend none of this ever happened. But the way his voice made your panties dampen said otherwise. You dried your face, and before you could stop yourself, you were reaching for the door.

The second you turned the lock, he was slipping inside, closing it behind him with a firm click, his back leaning against the polished wood as he stared at you.

You felt like you were looking at a different person. Gone was the polite smile and the caring eyes, replaced by a firm stare and barely contained desperation. 

“y/n, listen, I found your account by accident, and I didn’t even know it was you until a few days later…” He trailed off, eyes drifting to your lips like they were hypnotizing him. “Then I just couldn’t stop.”

Your breath caught, the ache between your legs pulsing like a reminder.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to, but I didn’t really know how without freaking you out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

“You aren’t?”

You snorted. “Well…maybe a little. I’m just surprised.”

He sucked in his bottom lip, looking at you shyly. “In a good way?”

The words made your stomach flip. You bit back a smile. “How’d you know it was me?”

Heeseung stepped towards you, fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure he should. He smiled softly. “The Weeknd poster above your bed. The bottom half was showing in one of your videos, and I recognized it instantly.”

Your eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at your lips. “How do you know I have that poster? Are you sneaking around my room?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Jay went in to grab your hairdryer or something one time, and I might have taken a peek.”

You gasped, putting your hand on his chest and shoving him slightly. “You creep.” But there was no venom in your voice, and you didn’t pull back your hand.

Heeseung looked down at it, his eyes darkening slightly. 

You felt his heartbeat against your palm and could swear it was speeding up with every second. 

His hand drifted up and rested over yours, holding it against his chest. He looked at you, his eyes searching. “When I realized it was you, something…changed.”

You bit your lip, the air in the bathroom humming with the tension. “How so?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the sounds you made in those videos, and wanted nothing more than to be the one causing them.”

You exhaled slowly, unknowingly moving closer to him.

He continued. “When I heard about the accident, I told myself I was giving you money to help you out, but I never skipped a single upload.” Heeseung’s other hand cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you were meeting his eyes. “It’s like you unlocked a part of myself I didn’t know was there, and now that it’s awake…I don’t know if I can ignore it.”

He was so close that your breaths mingled in the air, intertwining like twin flames. The pressure in your core was so intense that you could feel your inhibitions slipping away, fading until the only thought in your head was Heeseung’s lips.

“What if I don’t want you to ignore it?”

Heeseung made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan, his eyes glassy and dark. “Don’t say what you don’t mean y/n.”

“Heeseung, just kiss me.”

His lips crashed onto yours before you could blink, and just like that, everything vanished. You didn’t think about Jay and Jungwon being in the other room, or what it meant to kiss your brother’s best friend; there was only Heeseung: his mouth, his hands. They roamed over you like they’d been reaching for you as long as they could move, your skin tingling wherever he touched. 

Your lips moved together in a desperate clashing of teeth and tongue, and when his hand found your waist and a soft moan escaped your lips, he swallowed it, enveloping your mouth under his with claiming intensity. 

He moved you until your back hit the sink, and braced himself against the counter with one hand while the other moved up to tangle in your hair. Heeseung kissed you like he was sick, and your lips were the antidote, smiling as you moaned into his mouth. 

He pulled back to bury his head in your neck. “Your sounds are so beautiful, baby. I never want them to stop.”

“Heeseung!” You gasped. The coil of heat between your legs was twisted so tight you wanted to cry. It wasn’t a question anymore. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Heeseung, please, need you inside me.”

You felt him still against your neck, and he leaned back to press his forehead against yours, eyes glazed as he panted. “Are you sure? Once I start, I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

You nodded, channeling every bit of need into your voice you could muster. “I’m sure, Hee, it hurts so bad.”

He smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Ok, baby, I’ll help you; don’t worry.” He tugged at the zipper on his jeans, groaning as his erection sprang free, a drop of pre-cum already gathering at the tip.

Your eyes widened at his size, and just the image of him filling you up made you whimper. 

Heeseung’s hands found your waistband, pulling down your shorts and panties in one fluid motion. He cursed when he saw your glistening lips, already soaking wet and aching for him. 

“How long have you been like this?” He breathed.

“All day. The second you walked in the door, I was wet for you.”

“Fuck.” He hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you onto the counter, your bare ass hitting the cold surface, sending a shock up your spine. He gripped your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “As much as I love hearing you, you need to be quiet ok? If your brother hears us, we’re dead.”

You ran your hands up his chest, the pressure so dizzying you could barely hear him. But somehow, you choked out a yes, and finally, torturously, he aligned himself with your entrance.

When he pushed into you, you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from moaning. You buried your face in his neck, taking in air in shallow gasps as you fought to stay quiet. The way he filled you was agonizingly good, eons better than using your own fingers on camera. You had no words to describe it, nothing to say except his name as you murmured it into his ear over and over again: “Heeseung, Heeseung, Heeseung…”

When he finally bottomed out, he stopped and sighed, breathing in time with you as he brushed sweaty strands of hair out of your face. “Still ok?”

“Yes.” You breathed, “more than ok.” You tangled one of your hands in his pink hair, pulling him into a messy kiss as your hips trembled under his grasp.

He groaned, melting into your touch, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, he moved. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t testing; it was brutal. 

Heeseung pulled out almost fully before slamming back into you. You couldn’t stop a choked sob from ripping out of your throat, but he was ready. He put his hand behind your neck and kissed you hard, creating a sealed chamber with your mouths that muffled every sound. He moved against you mercilessly, the friction of his shaft scraping against your walls so overwhelming you thought you were going to pass out.

You clutched at his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle flex under your fingers as you searched for something to ground you. He moaned as your thumb drifted over his nape, sending a fresh wave of pleasure down your back.

Somehow, you were being quiet, with your muffled moans mostly drowned out by the slapping of skin and the squelch of your juices around his cock. 

But you weren’t done, the coil in your core still being twisted to its limit. You hooked your legs around his back and pulled him closer, causing both of you to groan into each other's mouths as the angle deepened. 

You could feel Heeseung’s thrusts getting shaky, his breathing more ragged, and you knew he was close. You began to grind against him in tune with his thrusts, your bodies rocking against each other in a filthy image.

Heeseung’s groans turned into desperate whimpers as you rocked against him, and you disconnected your lips as his thrusts became a rapid chase, both of you breathing hard as you held on to each other.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He said, his eyes wide and wrecked. “Like you were made for me.”

You were too far gone for words and were halfway through saying his name when your orgasm swept over you. It was like the breaking of a dam, a rush of wetness dripping between your legs as your walls clamped down with a sudden snap.

Heeseung buried his face in your neck to muffle his moan as he came apart after you, his back spasming as you milked him dry. You held onto him through it, kissing his sweaty neck as your bodies trembled and twitched together, still connected as a sticky mess tumbled down between you.

His hands braced the counter around you as his breathing slowed, and for a few seconds, you stayed there, existing in the moment when you’d crossed the line and become as close as your bodies allowed. 

Then Heeseung pulled out of you, exhaling sharply as he left the warmth of your walls. Without a word, he grabbed some toilet paper and started cleaning you, his soft hands brushing down your thighs as he sopped up every drop of his cum. 

When he was done, he stepped between your still-open legs and kissed you. This time, the kiss was gentle and sweet, full of possibilities and an uncertain future. You felt a stirring in your gut, but it wasn’t arousal; it was excitement. Anticipation for a relationship you had yet to consider, and a life that now felt more livable with Heeseung in it. 

Suddenly, nothing felt impossible.

He smiled as he pulled back, eyes tracing your face like he was trying to memorize it. “Would it be bad if I said I’m glad you messed up your parents' car?”

You laughed. “Maybe a little?”

He kissed your nose. “Even if it led me to you?”

“I’ve always been here, Hee.”

“But you weren’t mine.”

You smiled, studying the face of the boy who’d always been familiar but now felt like home. “Is that dollar store job still on the table?”

He tilted his head, a strand of hair falling over his eye. “You actually want it?”

“Well, I can’t really keep doing OnlyFans…”

Heeseung leaned into your arms, burying his head in your chest and wrapping his arms around your lower back. You could feel his grin against your shirt. “I’ll call my brother tomorrow.”

You giggled and stroked his hair, letting the moment sink over you like the heat of the sun on a chilly day. 

There was only one problem: How the hell were you going to tell Jay?

Taglist: @kristynaaah

You had to. 

There was no universe where you posted that bikini photo, the one where the teal fabric clung to your tits like it was painted on, water droplets rolling down your collarbone, sun making your skin glow like something divine, and didn't know what it would do to him. 

Heeseung had been the first person to like it. Three seconds after it went up. He reshared it to his story with a black heart emoji and nobody understood why. His friends thought it was sweet. His followers assumed it was a casual boyfriend thing. But they didn't know that his hand was already down his sweatpants when he did it, that his cock was achingly hard and leaking against his palm, that the black heart was a coded message: I'm losing my fucking mind.

Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. He counted. He wasn't proud of it.

The first two days were manageable. 

You sent him good morning texts with selfies, soft, sleepy, your hair messy and pillow creases on your cheek, and he could handle that. He'd smile at his phone like an idiot, type something disgusting like "you're so cute," and go about his day. But by day three, the photos started arriving. Not the public ones, those were a different kind of torture that he'd scroll through obsessively, zooming in on the curve of your waist, the glimpse of your thighs, the way your lips wrapped around that cocktail straw. 

No, the private ones were what broke him.

The first was innocent enough. You were changing after the beach, and you sent a mirror selfie from the hotel bathroom — your damp hair, a white shirt that was slightly see-through from the moisture, clinging to the shape of your breasts, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric, and a pair of black panties underneath. That was it. Just that. You added a caption: "oops, forgot u were on read 🫩" and he stopped breathing for a full five seconds.

He screenshotted it. He hated himself for it. He screenshotted it and then he stared at it for twenty minutes, thumb hovering over the call button, cock throbbing in his jeans, and he didn't call because he knew if he heard your voice right then he'd say something pathetic. Something like “please come home” or “I need you so bad it's making me sick” or “I've been hard for three hours and I can't make it stop.”

So he jerked off instead. Right there on the couch, phone in one hand, cock in the other, scrolling through your story, pausing on every frame where your body was visible. 

He came embarrassingly fast, under two minutes, with a broken sound that was half moan, half whine, hips bucking up into his fist, and when it was over he felt worse. Not better. Worse. Because his hand wasn't your hand, wasn't your mouth, wasn't your body, and his own orgasm felt like a consolation prize compared to what he actually wanted.

He cleaned up and stared at the ceiling and missed you so much it felt like a physical wound.

Day four was when you sent the photo. He'd later think of it that way, with reverential dread, the way people talk about natural disasters that ruin their lives.

It was a full body shot. You were wearing his black shorts, the ones that were baggy on you, the ones you'd stolen from his drawer before you left, the ones that had to be pinned at the back with a safety pin because they wouldn't stay up. They were slung low on your hips, and he could see the edge of your panties sticking out from underneath, pale pink, a thin strip of lace, the kind you wore when you wanted to feel pretty and not when you wanted to be practical. 

Above the waistband, your bare stomach, your navel, and then just a bra, black, simple, pushing your breasts up in a way that made his mouth water. And your hand. Your hand was on your breast, fingers splayed, cupping it through the fabric, and you were looking at the camera with this expression that knowing. It was cruel. You knew what this would do to him. You were doing it on purpose.

His favorite. His absolute favorite. He saved it, he screenshotted it, he sent it to his hidden album, and then he put his phone down and pressed his palms against his eyes and breathed through the wave of arousal that hit him so hard it made his vision blur.

you're wearing my shorts 🤨

That's what he texted you. That's all he could manage.

yeahhh 😿 they smell like u & imy already 🙁 i sleep in them every night, you sent back. 

He threw his phone across the couch.

Then he picked it back up, because of course he did.

Day five, you sent nudes. Not even strategically angled ones, real ones, the kind that left nothing to imagination. You were changing, you said, and you just had to show him. Your breasts, bare, your nipples peaked from the air conditioning, one arm stretched out holding the phone, the other covering just enough to be teasing but not enough to hide anything. A second photo: your back, arched, looking over your shoulder, the curve of your ass in those white panties, the dip of your spine, and he could see the strap marks from your bikini, tan lines that made him want to trace them with his tongue.

He sent a voicemail back. He couldn't type. He couldn't form words. So he hit record, and the sound that came out of him was filthy. He was jerking himself off, fast and wet, and he didn't even try to be quiet about it. 

He let you hear everything: the slick sound of his fist, the desperate little "hah, hah" of his breathing, the whine that built in his throat, the way he said your name like a prayer and a curse at the same time. "Fuck, baby, I—I need you so bad, I can't—"and then he came, mid-sentence, with a broken moan that cracked at the end, and the voicemail ended with him panting, shaky, barely audible: "Please come home."

You sent back a voice note of your own. Just your voice, breathy and amused: "Aww. Poor baby." And then, softer, almost tender: "Four more days. You can last four more days, right?"

He couldn't. He really, truly couldn't.

Day six, the sexting happened. It started with a check-in, him asking if you'd eaten, if you were staying hydrated, if you were wearing sunscreen, and somehow, inevitably, it derailed. You told him you'd been thinking about him on the beach. About how the water felt, cold and slippery against your skin, and how you wished it was his hands instead. How you'd touched yourself in the shower that morning and imagined it was him, imagined him pressing you against the tile, imagined his mouth on your neck, his fingers inside you.

He was hard before you finished the second message.

"I want to eat you out so bad," he typed, not even caring how desperate he sounded. "I want to put my mouth on you and not stop until you're crying."

"You want to make me cry?"

"I want to make you feel so good you can't help it. I want to taste you. I want—I want—" He couldn't finish. He was too busy coming again, cock pulsing in his grip, spurting over his knuckles, and he hadn't even been looking at anything. Just the words on his screen. Just the thought of you. He came from reading a text message. 

Heeseung, twenty-five years old, who prided himself on at least a little stamina, came from words on a screen like a fucking teenager, and he groaned through it, jaw clenched, and thought: I am so, so fucked.

Day seven, the last day, he didn't even touch himself. He just lay in bed and stared at your photos and throbbed. His cock was so hard it ached, flushed and angry and leaking, and he didn't wrap his hand around it because he knew it would be over in seconds and he'd feel even emptier afterward. He just let himself suffer. He let the want build until it was a living thing in his chest, a hollow hunger that no amount of his own touch could fill.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'd be home.

He didn't sleep.

You walked through the door at exactly 4:47 PM, and Heeseung was already standing in the hallway like he'd been waiting there for hours, which he had been, since you'd texted him your flight landed, since you'd texted him you were in the cab, since you'd texted him you were five minutes away. 

He was wearing his grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt and his hair was messy and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and the look on his face when he saw you—

It was hunger. Pure, unfiltered, desperate hunger.

And you looked so fucking good. That was the thing. You knew you did. You'd changed at the airport, into the tiniest denim shorts you owned, the ones that barely covered the bottom curve of your ass, the ones that rode up when you walked. A white tank top, thin enough that the outline of your bikini top was visible underneath, thin enough that if you took that off there would be nothing between your nipples and the fabric but air. Your skin was tanned and glowing and you smelled like coconut and sunlight and he was on you before you even set your suitcase down.

"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, and then he was kissing you, hands everywhere, your waist, your hips, sliding down to grip your ass through those ridiculous shorts, and he was already hard. You could feel him against your thigh, thick and hot, and he was pressing into you like he couldn't help it, like his body was moving on autopilot, chasing contact.

"I missed you too, baby," you murmured against his lips, and you felt him shiver at the endearment. Your hands came up to card through his hair, and you tugged, just a gentle pull, just enough to tilt his head back, and his breath caught audibly. A small, broken sound that went straight between your legs.

Heeseung, your boyfriend, your pathetic, beautiful, desperate boy, was already trembling.

"Let me—can I—" He couldn't finish a sentence. His hands were shaking where they gripped your waist. He was looking at you with those big, dark eyes, pupils blown so wide the brown was barely visible, and there was a flush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. "Please. I need—it's been a week and I can't—"

"Can't what?" you asked, and your voice was low and teasing, a dangerous lilt that made his cock twitch. You knew exactly what he couldn't do. You wanted to hear him say it.

"I can't think about anything except you," he said, and his voice cracked on the word you, cracked like he was about to cry, and god, that did something to you. "I've been—I've been so hard, all week, and my hand isn't enough, and I keep coming but it doesn't help, and I—"

"Shh," you said, and you pressed your thumb to his lower lip, and his mouth fell open instantly, pliant and willing, and his tongue darted out to wet the pad of your thumb and you felt a pulse of heat between your thighs. "I'm here now. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

He nodded frantically, your thumb still on his lips, and he looked so pretty like this — desperate and flushed and hanging on your every word.

You pulled his hair again, harder this time, and he moaned. Actually moaned, loud and shameless, head tipping back to expose the long line of his throat, and you took the opportunity to bite his neck, not gently, not a love bite, a real bite, teeth sinking into the muscle, and he bucked against you with a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper.

"Bedroom," you said. 

Heeseung was on the bed before you finished the word, sitting on the edge, looking up at you with those wide, eager eyes, and you stood between his spread legs and looked down at him and felt powerful. You felt powerful alright. This boy, this beautiful, needy, pathetic boy, was literally shaking with want for you, and you'd barely touched him.

You reached down and took off your tank top, slow, dragging it up your body, and his eyes tracked the movement like he was hypnotized. Underneath was the bikini top, teal, the same one from the photo, the one he'd jerked off to four times. Your breasts were spilling out of it, the fabric barely containing them, and he made a sound — not a word, just a noise, like all the air had been punched out of him.

"You like this one?" you asked, running a finger along the edge of the fabric, pushing your breast up slightly. "You seemed to. You watched the story it was in about forty times."

"I—" His voice was raw. "I lost count."

"Take off your shirt."

He ripped it off so fast the seams made a sound, and his chest was heaving, skin flushed pink from his collarbones to his stomach, and you could see the tent in his sweatpants, could see the dark spot of precum soaking through the grey fabric. He was leaking. Just from this. Just from you standing in front of him in a bikini top.

"You're already making a mess," you observed, and you reached down and ran a single finger along the length of his cock through his pants, feather-light, and he jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His hips chased your hand the moment you pulled away, thrusting up into empty air, and he let out a whine that was so pitiful, so utterly desperate, that you felt your own arousal pulse, hot and slick, between your legs.

"Please touch me," he begged. "Please, I need—"

"In a minute." You unbuttoned your shorts and shimmied them down your legs, and underneath were the black panties. The ones from the mirror photo. The see-through ones. And he was staring at them like he was having a religious experience, mouth open, breath ragged, and you could see his cock twitch in his pants, could see another pulse of precum darken the fabric.

"Remember these?" You turned around slowly, letting him see the back, the sheer fabric clinging to the curve of your ass, the lace trim riding up just slightly, and you looked over your shoulder at him and bit your lip. "You came so hard to this picture. I heard the voicemail, baby. You sounded so pathetic. So needy. Were you that desperate for me?"

"Yes," he choked out. "Yes, I was—I am—please—"

You turned back around and stepped closer, close enough that if he leaned forward his face would be inches from your body, and you reached behind yourself and unclasped the bikini top. It fell away, and your breasts were bare, nipples hard from the cool air and from the way he was looking at you, like he was starving and you were the first meal he'd seen in a week.

He lunged forward, mouth open, aiming for your breast, and you grabbed his hair and pulled him back.

"Did I say you could touch?"

The sound he made was devastating. A sob, cut off halfway, and his eyes were wet, actually wet, glassy with unshed tears, and his lower lip was trembling, and he looked so wrecked, so utterly desperate, that for a moment you almost caved. Almost. But you wanted to draw this out. You wanted to make it good.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"I want—I want to taste you." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to put my mouth on you. I want—gosh, I want to eat you out so bad, I've been thinking about it all week, thinking about how you'd sound, how you'd feel on my tongue, and I—"

"Then do it."

He didn't need to be told twice. 

His hands grabbed your hips and he pulled you forward and pressed his face between your legs, mouth against your pussy through the sheer fabric of your panties, and you felt the heat of his breath, the desperate slide of his tongue against the wet material. He was moaning into you, actual moans, vibrating against your clit, and the fabric was getting wetter, your wetness, his saliva, the barrier between his tongue and you becoming translucent with moisture.

"Take them off," you said, breathless, and he hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged them down so fast the lace scratched against your thighs, and then his mouth was on you, bare, and—

Fuck. 

He was good at this. He'd always been good at this, enthusiastic and sloppy and absolutely relentless, but today, after a week of wanting, a week of desperate late-night phone calls and photos and voicemails, he ate you out like he was dying. His tongue was everywhere, broad strokes through your folds, pointed flicks against your clit, and then he sucked your clit into his mouth and you gasped and your hand flew to his hair and pulled and he whimpered against you, the vibration making your knees buckle.

"Shit, baby—"

He looked up at you from between your thighs, lips swollen and glistening, chin wet, eyes glassy and pleading, and he didn't stop, he kept licking, kept sucking, kept making those small, desperate sounds against your body, and you could feel his hips rutting against the edge of the mattress, grinding against nothing, chasing friction because he was so turned on he couldn't help it.

You pushed him back, and he made a sound of protest, raw and bereft, but you were climbing onto the bed, straddling his face, and then you lowered yourself onto his mouth and he grabbed your thighs and held you there and devoured you. 

His tongue was inside you, then on your clit, then inside again, and he was making sounds like he was the one being eaten out, little muffled whimpers and moans, and you were grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure, and you felt it building, that tight coil in your abdomen, and—

"I'm going—fuck, baby, I’m going to come on your face," you told him, and he doubled his efforts, tongue working your clit in fast, tight circles, and you came with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, body arching, and he kept going, kept licking you through it, kept moaning like your orgasm was his own, and when you finally pulled away, shaking, he was gasping for air and his chin was drenched and he was looking up at you with absolute, total devotion.

"Good boy," you murmured, and he shuddered. Actually shuddered, full-body, and you felt his cock jerk where it pressed against your thigh through his sweatpants. "You made me feel so good. You always do."

"Please," he whispered, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Just one, sliding from the corner of his eye, and he didn't seem to notice it. "Please, I need—I need to be inside you, I need—"

"Not yet." You climbed off his face and positioned yourself beside him, and you reached down and palmed his cock through his sweatpants, and he arched off the bed with a strangled cry. The fabric was soaked. Not just damp, soaked, a huge dark patch of precum, and you could feel how hard he was, how thick and hot and desperate, and you squeezed gently and his entire body seized.

"You're so wet," you said, rubbing your palm over the head through the fabric, spreading the moisture, and he was twitching uncontrollably, hips jerking up into your hand. "You've been leaking all day, haven't you? Just thinking about me coming home?"

"All week," he corrected, voice breaking. "All week, I've been—"

"Take this off."

He shoved his sweatpants down, kicked them off, and his cock sprang free, flushed dark, the head an angry red, slick with precum that was dripping down the shaft in a steady stream. He was so hard, veins prominent, twitching in the open air, and you wrapped your hand around the base and his whole body spasmed.

"Ah—fuck, fuck—"

You stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, spreading his precum, and his head fell back against the pillows and his mouth fell open and the sound that came out of him was barely human. You stroked him again, and he was already close, you could tell, his thighs trembling, stomach clenching, and you tightened your grip just slightly and twisted on the upstroke and he screamed.

Not a moan. A scream. Raw and desperate and overwhelmed, and his hips were bucking up into your fist, chasing the sensation, and you could feel him throbbing in your hand, getting close, getting—

You let go.

He sobbed. Actually sobbed, chest heaving, cock bobbing in the air, flushed and leaking and so close to the edge that a single touch would have sent him over, and tears were streaming down his face now, not just one but two wet tracks down his cheeks, and he was looking at you with the most destroyed expression you'd ever seen on another human being.

"Why—" his voice cracked, shattered, "why did you stop—"

"Because I want to do something else first." You shifted, repositioned, and you wrapped your hand around him again and leaned down and took the head of his cock into your mouth.

The sound he made was not a word. It was not a moan. It was something between a gasp and a wail, and his hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding, fingers tangling in the strands, and his whole body was trembling like a live wire. 

You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting him, and then you sank down, taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and he was falling apart above you.

"Oh god, oh god, oh—your mouth, your mouth feels so—I'm going to—I'm going to come, I can't—"

You pulled off with a slick pop and squeezed the base of his cock, hard, and he yelled, and the orgasm that had been building was throttled, stopped just short of the peak, and he was crying openly now, tears running freely, lower lip caught between his teeth, and the sounds coming out of him were sobs and whimpers and fragmented syllables that might have been your name.

"Please let me come," he begged, and his voice was so raw, so ruined, that you felt a rush of wetness between your own thighs. "Please, I can't—it hurts, I need to come so bad, please—"

"I know, baby," you murmured, and you stroked his hair back from his forehead, gentle now, tender, and he leaned into your touch like a touch-starved animal. "I know it hurts. You've been so good for me. So patient and all. Let me make you feel better."

You reached between your legs with your free hand, you were soaking, absolutely drenched, your fingers sliding through your folds with no resistance, and you touched yourself while you stroked him, and the dual sensation made you both groan. You rubbed your clit in slow circles while you jerked him off, and you were so turned on from watching him fall apart, from the power of having this beautiful, desperate boy at your mercy, that you were already close to another orgasm.

"You want to know a secret?" you asked, voice low and sultry, and he blinked up at you through tear-blurred eyes. "I touched myself thinking about you too. On the trip. In the hotel room. I'd look at the photos you sent—your voice notes, those sounds you made—and I'd fuck myself with my fingers and pretend it was you."

He twitched violently in your hand, and a fresh wave of precum spilled over your fingers.

"I'd come so hard, baby," you continued, squeezing him, stroking faster, your other hand working your own clit in matching rhythm. "But it wasn't enough. My fingers aren't your cock. My fingers aren't you. I needed you just as bad as you needed me."

"I needed you more," he gasped, and it was so pathetic, so utterly heartfelt, that you felt your orgasm crash into you without warning, your body seizing, cunt clenching around nothing, and you moaned loud and long, and the sound of your pleasure pushed him right to the edge again and this time you didn't stop.

You felt the moment he broke. 

His cock pulsed once, twice, and then he was coming, thick ropes of cum spurting over your hand, over his stomach, and he was crying out, sounds, raw and broken and overwhelmed, and his whole body was arching off the bed, and the tears were flowing freely now, mixing with the sweat on his face, and you kept stroking him through it, kept your hand moving, and he kept coming, more than you'd ever seen from him, spurt after spurt, and you realized he was still hard. Still hard and still coming and his body didn't know when to stop because it had been wound so tight for so long that the release was overflowing.

"Stop, stop, it's too much—" he sobbed, and you let go, and he lay there, wrecked, chest heaving, cum splattered across his stomach and your hand, tears on his face, and his cock was still hard, still flushed and twitching, and you knew one orgasm wasn't going to be enough. Not after a week. Not after all that buildup.

"That's one," you said, and you brought your cum-covered hand to your lips and licked a stripe up your palm, tasting him, and his eyes went impossibly wide and his spent cock actually jerked back to full attention. "You've got more in you, don't you?"

He nodded, wordless, still crying, and you thought he'd never looked more beautiful.

You stripped off your panties, the last remaining piece of clothing on your body, and you straddled his waist, and you felt his cum between your bodies, slick and warm against your stomach, and you didn't care. You wanted to be messy. You wanted this to be filthy. You wanted him to remember what it felt like when you finally, finally gave him what he'd been begging for.

"I'm going to ride you now," you told him, and you saw the hope bloom in his eyes, the desperate, grateful hope, and you leaned down and kissed him, properly kissed him, tongue in his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips from when he'd gone down on you, and he kissed back frantically, hands coming up to cup your face, and he was making small sounds into your mouth, little whimpers and sighs, and you could feel his cock pressing against your ass, hot and hard and still leaking.

You reached behind you and positioned him at your entrance, and you sank down, just the tip, just the head, and you both groaned. He was big, you'd forgotten, in a week, just how big, how the stretch of him made your walls flutter and clench, and he was so sensitive from his first orgasm that the mere sensation of your heat around the head of his cock had him whimpering, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.

"More," he gasped. "Please, more—"

You sank down, slow, torturous, and you watched his face as you did, the way his eyes rolled back, the way his jaw dropped, the way his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. When you bottomed out, when he was fully inside you, you paused, and you felt him throbbing, felt every twitch and pulse, and you clenched around him deliberately and he sobbed.

"Don't—please—if you do that, fuck—I'll—"

"You'll what? Come again?" You clenched harder, and he cried out, hands scrabbling at your hips. "That's the point, baby. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it. I've been thinking about this all week—your cock inside me, filling me up, making me yours again."

More tears fell, and you realized he wasn't crying from sadness or from pain. He was crying from feeling. From the overwhelming intensity of finally, finally having you, finally being inside you, after a week of his own inadequate hand and your cruel, beautiful photos. He was crying because it felt too good to process. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm—"

You started to move. Slow at first, a grinding roll of your hips that pressed his cock against your front wall, against that spot that made your vision blur, and you braced your hands on his chest and rolled your hips and watched him fall apart beneath you. He was gone. Completely gone. His head was thrown back, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed convulsively, and his hands were on your hips, holding on. Holding on like you were the only solid thing in a world that was spinning too fast.

"Faster," he begged. "Please, faster, harder—"

You obeyed. You lifted your hips and slammed back down, and the sound that rang out was so obscene that he yelled, and you did it again, and again, setting a brutal pace, riding him hard, and the angle was perfect, the pressure on your clit from the base of his dick, the stretch of him inside you, and you were already close again, already feeling that coil tightening.

"Touch me," you commanded, and his hands flew to your breasts, squeezing, thumbs rolling over your nipples, and you moaned and threw your head back and bounced on his cock harder, and he was meeting your thrusts now, hips snapping up to meet you, and the wet slap of your bodies was the filthiest, most beautiful sound in the world.

"You feel so good," he gasped, voice raw and destroyed. "You feel so fucking good, I can't—I'm not going to last—"

"Then don't." You leaned down and bit his earlobe, then whispered against the shell of his ear: "Come inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it dripping out of me for the rest of the night."

He shattered. His back arched off the bed, his fingers dug bruises into your hips, and he came with a sound that was closer to a scream than a moan, long, drawn-out, broken in the middle by a sob, and you felt it, felt the pulse of his cock inside you, felt the heat of his cum flooding you, and it pushed you over the edge too, your orgasm ripping through you, cunt clenching and fluttering around him, milking every last drop, and you collapsed against his chest and both of you were shaking, trembling, crying — the hell, when had you started crying?

You didn't know, but your bodies were tangled together and it was too much, everything was too much, in the best possible way.

You lay there for a long moment, catching your breath, his cock softening inside you, and you felt the trickle of his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies, and he was still sniffling, still trembling, and you pressed kisses to his jaw, his cheek, his tear-streaked face, and he turned into your touch like a flower toward the sun.

But this was the thing about Heeseung, you shifted your hips slightly, and you felt it. Still half-hard. Twitching. Recovering. And you knew, with a rush of heat between your legs, that he wasn't done.

Neither were you.

"Baby," you murmured against his ear, and you felt him shiver. "You still want more?"

"I always want more," he whispered, and his voice was wrecked, hoarse from crying and moaning, and the honesty in it made your cunt clench around his half-hard cock and he hissed. "I always want you. It’ll never be enough."

"You’re too greedy, no? How can someone be that greedy," you teased, and you bit your lip and looked down at him through your lashes, and his eyes darkened.

"Only for you."

You lifted your hips and let him slip out. You saw the mess, his cum and yours, smeared across his stomach and yours, and you reached down and ran your fingers through it, and you brought them to his lips, and he opened his mouth without hesitation, sucking your fingers clean, tongue swirling around the digits, and his cock, which had been softening, jerked back to full hardness.

"Dirty boy," you murmured, and he flushed darker, and you saw the conflict on his face, shame and arousal warring behind his eyes, and arousal won, as it always did with him. "You like being dirty for me, don't you?"

"I like being anything for you," he said, and it was the most sincere thing anyone had ever said to you.

You turned around. You positioned yourself on your hands and knees, and you looked over your shoulder at him, and you stuck your tongue out, just a little, just a tease, the way you knew drove him insane, and you wiggled your hips and said: "Then come prove it."

He was behind you in a second. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you open, and you felt his gaze on you, on your pussy, still dripping with his cum, still puffy and flushed from your orgasms, and he groaned, low and hungry, and you felt his cock press against your entrance.

"Wait," you said, and he froze instantly, ever obedient, ever desperate to please. "I want you to eat me out first. Again. I want your tongue inside me again. Then you can fuck me."

He didn't hesitate. His face was between your legs again, tongue sliding through your folds, tasting both of you and he moaned against you like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. His tongue pushed inside you, fucking you with it, and you could feel his cum dripping onto his tongue, and he was swallowing it, swallowing everything, and the obscenity of it had you pushing back against his face, grinding, chasing more.

"Such a good boy," you gasped, and he whimpered into you, and you felt fresh tears, his tears this time, wetting the inside of your thighs as they fell, and the vulnerability of it, the raw submission, had you hurtling toward another orgasm. "My good boy. Only mine. Nobody else gets to see you like this, nobody else gets to have you—"

"Only you," he confirmed against your body, the words muffled by your pussy, vibrating against your clit. "Only you, only you, only—"

You came on his tongue, again, thighs shaking, and he held you up and licked you through it and when you finally pulled away you were boneless and trembling and he was looking at you with those red-rimmed, tear-stained, absolutely wrecked eyes, cock jutting out from his body, hard as steel, and you felt a rush of tenderness so fierce it almost hurt.

"Come here," you said softly, and you turned onto your back and opened your arms, and he crawled up your body and kissed you, and you tasted yourself and him on his tongue, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you in one fluid motion.

He sank to the hilt and you both gasped, and this time it was slower, not the frantic, desperate pace of before, but something deeper. He was moving in long, grinding strokes, hitting every sensitive spot inside you, and his forehead was pressed against yours, and you could see his eyes up close, overflowing with feeling, and you cupped his face and brushed the tears away with your thumbs and he turned his head to kiss your palm.

"I love you," he whispered, and his voice broke on love, broke open like he couldn't contain it, and you pulled his hair and he moaned and you bit your lip and he watched your mouth like it was the center of the universe.

"I love you more," you said, and then you tightened your legs around his waist and rolled your hips and he made a sound that was half sob, half moan, and you swallowed it with a kiss.

He fucked you slower but deeper, each thrust deliberate, purposeful, hitting that spot that made your breath catch, and you could feel another orgasm building, your fourth, his third, and this one felt different, bigger, like something immense was gathering at the base of your spine, and you broke the kiss and gasped against his mouth.

"I'm close," you warned, and he nodded, and his pace increased, hips snapping faster, and he was hitting so deep, so perfect, and you were clenching around him, and he was groaning with every thrust, and—

"I'm—I can't—" He was crying again, silent tears streaming, and his face was scrunched up in an expression that was almost pain, almost pleasure, something in between that was too intense to name. "I'm going to—again—"

"Do it," you commanded. "Come with me. Now."

You clenched around him and his mouth fell open in a silent scream, and you felt him pulse inside you, felt the heat of his cum, and that triggered your own orgasm, this one different, deeper, your whole body shaking, cunt clenching rhythmically around him, and you were both crying, both gasping, both clinging to each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he was still thrusting through it, shallow and twitching, and you could feel the overstimulation making him shake, making his breath come in hitches and hiccups, and he collapsed against you, full body weight pressing you into the mattress, and you held him and he sobbed against your neck.

"I'm sorry," he wept, and you could feel his tears hot against your skin. "I can't stop crying, I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," you said, and your own voice was thick, wavering. "Don't you dare apologize. That was—you were perfect. You're always perfect."

He lifted his head and looked at you, face blotchy and wet and so, so beautiful, and you kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and he smiled, and you felt your heart crack open in your chest.

"You're mine," you told him, and it wasn't a question.

"Yours," he agreed, and he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, and you felt his cock twitch one last time inside you, and you both laughed, the sound of it echoing off the walls of your shared apartment, your home, the place where you belonged, together, tangled up in each other and the mess you'd made.

Later, much later, after showers and water bottles and the kind of gentle, exploratory touching that was less about arousal and more about reassurance, you lay tangled in bed together, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your shoulder.

"I have a confession," he said quietly.

"More confessions? After all that?"

"I screenshot every photo you sent. Even the ones from your public story. I have a whole album."

You laughed, bright and surprised. "I know. I can see your screenshots."

He groaned, covering his face with his free hand. "Fuck, that's so embarrassing."

"That's so hot," you corrected, and you bit his chest playfully, and he squirmed. "I love that you were that desperate for me. I love that I had you on a chokehold."

"You always have me on a chokehold," he muttered, and there was no heat in it, just fact. Just the simple, unvarnished truth. "You could wear a garbage bag and I'd still be hard for you in three seconds."

"Ew, that's so… disgusting and romantic and I'm going to think about it every time I miss you."

"Don't go anywhere for a while," he said, and his voice was small, and when you looked up at him his eyes were earnest and vulnerable and still slightly red from crying. "Please."

You reached up and stroked his hair, and he melted into the touch, and you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised. "I just got back to you."

He pulled you closer, tighter, like he could fold you into himself and keep you there permanently, and you let him. You let him cling and you clung back, because the truth, the truth that neither of you said out loud but both of you knew, was that the desperation went both ways. You'd sent those photos on purpose, sure, but not just to tease. You'd sent them because you needed him to want you. You needed to feel wanted from five hundred miles away. You needed proof that the ache was mutual.

And it was. God, it was.

"I'm already hard again," he mumbled against your hair, and you felt the evidence pressing against your thigh, and you laughed again, incredulous, fond, so deeply in love it made your chest hurt.

"What a weirdo," you accused.

"Only for you," he said, and it was the second time he'd said it tonight, and you believed it completely.

You rolled on top of him and pinned his wrists to the pillow and leaned down and whispered against his lips: "Then let's go again."

And his eyes lit up, bright, eager, desperate, yours, and he said:

"Please."

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . i want you around by snoh aalegra

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

He doesn’t reply, partly because he’s too focused. Partly because he doesn’t know what you could possibly want more.

“Heeseung” you whine, tears threatening to fall.

You need him close, you need his attention.

He just thinks you want more and spreads your thighs further apart as he licks and sucks at your pussy. 

“Heeseung!” you whine again and tug on his hair, wanting his attention.

He presses one last kiss to your clit before pulling back.

“Mh? What’s wrong? “ his lips glisten with your juices. 

“I need you close” your voice shakes.

His brows furrow for a second before pulling himself up so he’s on top of you.

He immediately coos at the sight of you, tears spilling from your eyes, cheeks flushed, messy hair and your hand crumpling the sheets next to you.

Firstly, he grabs your hand and kisses it before pinning it next to your head.

“You need me close?” he repeats as he kisses you gently.

He doesn’t wipe your tears as they give him a weird sense of satisfaction and possessiveness.

You nod as you look into his eyes, trying to memorize every part of him.

He kisses your neck and smirks to himself.

He loooves how vulnerable you get during sex. Like you physically need this closeness to feel full and loved by him. Maybe it’s fucked up, maybe it’s unhealthy, but that wouldn’t be a first in your relationship. 

He gives his already hard cock a few strokes before lining it with your hole.

You're so wet and ready for him, already clenching like you’re trying to suck him in.

“Fuck-” he groans as he sinks into you.

You whimper, slightly oversensitive considering how long his face was between your thighs earlier.

He grabs your calves and lifts them so your thighs are squished against your chest and he can go deeper.

You immediately moan “oh my god” as you arch slightly, your arms going around his neck.

He buries his face in your neck and starts thrusting, fast and powerful.

You whimper and dig your nails into his neck.

He groans, but doesn’t get mad, knowing you’re feeling extremely sensitive right now.

“I know baby, I know,” 

“C-closer” you beg, needing him to invade every part of your body, your mind, your soul.

He grunts as he plunges deeper into you. “Baby I don’t think I can get closer than this.”

You whimper and more tears fall. You sniffle “I c-can’t,”

He pulls back to look at you and chuckles.

“You’re so sensitive, baby. C’mon don’t cry.” he presses kisses all over your face as his thrusts slow down.

You sniffle and he looks at you.

He wraps your legs around him so his pelvis grinds against you with every thrust, then he wraps one arm around your waist and leans down so your chests are touching.

He starts moving again, slower. Each powerful thrust sending shocks to your brain, making it feel all fuzzy and warm. He doesn’t stop looking at you as he watches your brows arch and your mouth fall open.

He feels you claw at his shoulders and just continues his slow, deliberate thrusts that knock the air from your chest.

“Better? Hm?”

You can’t possibly reply. You just roll your eyes back and arch into his chest.

“So fuckin’ needy. Do you get it now when I say no one else can handle you? Hm?” 

You whimper, more tears falling from your eyes and into the mattress beneath you.

“It’s okay baby,” he kisses your neck. “Just means you're mine.”

“Heeseung-” you try to warn him you’re close but he interrupts you.

“I know. You’re- fuck- squeezing me so tight baby.”

He feels your grip on his biceps tighten and your legs lock in around him.

“Cmon hold on a little longer,” he smirks, basically pulling out until only the tip is in.

Poor y/n. Still getting teased, even when you’re crying, sweating, begging him for more.

Your head lolls to the side, letting more tears roll down your face.

He loves that.

“Look at me y/n,” his voice is soft,even though his actions speak way louder.

His actions being the way his dick is barely still inside you and he’s completely neglecting your pleasure.

You don’t turn your head and you cross your arms as well, giving him the full brat treatment.

“Seriously, baby?” his thumb goes to lazily rub your clit, making you clench around him.

He pushes back in slightly and your head tilts back.

“You were being so good. So communicative.” He leans in to suck a fresh hickey on your exposed skin.

You whine but don’t dare to push him away.

You try to roll your hips, attempting to get a sliver of pleasure from his firm thumb pressing against your clit and his cock half-inside your pussy.

He immediately pins them down.

“Y/n,” he warns.

Your arms go from crossed to covering your face.

He can barely see if you’re crying but hears the familiar sniffles and whimpers of all the other times he was in this situation.

“Cmon don’t do that now-” he tries to pull them away but you shake your head.

He sighs and smooths his thumb over your wrist, right under where your palm is covering your eyes.

“Baby. C’mon,” he repeats, stuck between "I took it too far” and “she’s a dramatic brat”.

He sinks back inside you, finally, pitying you.

He starts picking his pace up again, thrusting shallowly but rubbing circles on your clit.

It really isn’t hard to gain his compassion.

You’re feeling good again and your arms fall back above your head. 

When you meet his gaze it isn’t warm. But not cold either.

He’s just...watching you.

The smudged black streaks of mascara falling down your face and your red, teary big eyes staring up at him like you’d do anything for him.

He plunges himself deep inside and you cry out.

He knows he should be going easier on you right now, but he just can’t resist when you fall apart around him.

In between your breathy moans, he buries his face in your neck and you swear you can hear him groan as you clench around him.

He presses soft kisses there as his dick slides in and out of your puffy pussy.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.”

That makes your legs tighten around him and pull him deeper.

You moan and let out a soft “‘m so close” in his ear.

He doesn’t stop this time.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” he praises, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge.

“That’s it. Cmon. Let go for me.”

It’s like his words have the magical effect of controlling what your body does, cutting yourself from the decision.

You feel like an elastic snap in your stomach and throw your head back as you call his name, repeatedly.

“I know, I know, fuck-” he speeds up, using your pussy as his personal fleshlight as he feels his own orgasm arrive too.

You whine as you look up at him.

All you want right now, in your post-orgasm blissful haze is to see him cum too.

You tug on his hair. “Please baby,”

That has him groaning as he bottoms out inside you with a final thrust, filling you up.

“Oh God,” he basically moans in your ear as his dick spills more cum inside you.

“Fuck-” he thrusts a few more times before basically falling on top of you, finally making you feel that closeness you were asking for in the beginning.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

When he pulls back he grabs a tissue on the nightstand and admires the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy, before cleaning it all up. 

“You okay?” he asks after giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

You nod and look up at him as he smudges the mascara stains under your eyes.

“Sorry I cried,” you chuckle.

He chuckles back. “I didn’t mind. As long as you don’t shut me out.”

In fact, he loved it. Loved it so much he was already planning on how to tease so much you’d be crying in his arms. But that was for next time.

You nod as you play with his hair absentmindedly, unaware of his evil plan.