#txt thoughts

This is the last time, you swear to yourself, that you would willingly participate in a conversation with the nosy middle-aged aunties in your apartment complex. 

"You know you're running out of time," Mrs. Lee lectures. "It'll be good for you to have kids soon while you still have your youth."

Mrs. Park nods knowingly next to her as if her friend spouted something incredibly profound. What was supposed to be a quiet walk to retrieve a package from the mail room had once again turned into a conversation impossible to wiggle out of. 

"It's not our place to pry," Mrs. Park chimes in. "Your husband would probably want you to have one sooner rather than later, right? Hell! At his age, he’s old enough to even be your father-"

Mrs. Lee punches her blabbering friend's shoulder lightly in an attempt to shut her up. Mrs. Park rubs her shoulder, flustered but taking the hint.

"Thank you for your wonderful advice," you muster a polite smile, "If that’s all, I'll be heading back up. I hope you two have a good day."

You walk past the two with a small package in hand, turning the corner of the hallway. Being curt with them would be the only way to escape their intrusive grasp. However, you find yourself slowing your steps when you hear bits and pieces of their lowered voices.

"You!" Mrs. Lee grumbles at Mrs. Park. “Why would you mention such a sensitive topic to that poor girl?! I’m sure she sees how big their age gap is! There's no need to bring it up.”

Mrs. Park grumbles.

“That’s the least of her worries when it comes to that husband of hers,” Mrs. Park scoffs. “You know, I heard from the security guy that he’s been coming home late every night, all disheveled with bruises all over his neck..."

You hear Mrs. Lee gasp, and you can’t help it when your grip on the cardboard box tightens.

"No wonder she's looked so out of sorts these days,” Mrs. Lee sighs. “She used to have such a bright personality. Much prettier back then, too…"

You grind your teeth, tempted to walk back and ask the two to continue their conversation in front of you instead. You save yourself the embarrassment and walk towards the elevator. 

It’s not like anything they said was a lie. There was no use in getting angry about the truth being spoken out loud; you convince yourself.

You sit at the dinner table, watching as the clock strikes midnight. He probably won't come home tonight either, you think to yourself. 

Dinner is laid out so meticulously, two perfectly cooked salmon glistening with soy sauce glaze at the center of the table. All done by you to appease a husband who doesn’t even want to be home most of the time.

It’s the third night in a row he's been staying over at his lover's place. 

Married life with Kwon Sehoon, a man you met through your parents, was ultimately a passionless one.

Straddled in debt from starting a failed business, your parents had married you off to an older man who was willing to pay a pretty penny for a young and beautiful wife. 

You remember that day clearly, with you coming back home from an evening lecture, standing in front of your kneeling parents who begged you to save them from their financial ruin. The parents you once thought were invincible to pain and suffering were groveling right in front of you. So afraid of what the loan sharks would do to your parents, of having to pick up the pieces of their debt if they up and disappeared, you agreed. It seemed like the easy way out. 

Sehoon seemed nice enough during your first meeting. He told you almost immediately how he didn’t like women his age.

"Younger women don't drain you like the older ones do," he once said.

You remember feeling flattered at first, not knowing the gravity of his words until you really got to know him.

You got married shortly after completing your degree, and at first, Sehoon was absolutely fixated on you. He doted on you like a pet, showering you with gifts and compliments. He lived quite modestly for someone with an affluent job. His apartment, the one you live in now, was practically empty before you came into his life. He gave you free rein to decorate as you pleased and insisted that you buy anything you wanted with his card. 

He asked very little of you in return; all you had to do was be a good wife for him. And as you sit by yourself tonight, pondering his return, you feel like you failed even in that regard. Four years into marriage, you noticed the signs of waning interest trickle into everyday life.

His initial gestures of kindness led you to feel something akin to love towards him, just thankful that he didn’t treat your parents badly, like the loan sharks did. Though now that you look back, your affection seemed more akin to Stockholm Syndrome. 

Your parents had promised him a warm and caring stay-at-home wife. At the ripe age of 45, he expected a lot from you– more than you could possibly give in your early 20s. Inexperienced nights of lackluster sex would drive him into fits of annoyance, giving you days of silent treatment when you would reject his advances to explore unsavory kinks in the bedroom. 

You always tried to pick up the pieces, changing parts of yourself to match his ideal type of girl. Pleasant, obedient, and doll-like. It never worked.

He started accusing you of using him if you bought too many pastries from a bakery, immediately regulating your credit card use to groceries and household items. He started murmuring insults in hushed tones, knowing full well you could hear him. 

Everything you thought he was crumbled within the first year of marriage. Sehoon morphed into someone unrecognizable. You never fathomed being in a situation where a man who wanted you so badly now wanted to act like you never existed. You never thought he could betray you after all the hoops he went through to have your hand in marriage.

You remember that night, just a year ago, when you heard his quiet voice in the bathroom. He was talking to someone over the phone. You couldn’t help but listen by the door that was slightly left ajar. Sehoon had been in such a bad mood at the time, lashing out at you at every chance he got.

"I miss you," he sighs lovingly, and you feel your heart sink. You hadn't heard him talk in such a gentle tone in years. "She's such a prude, you know? Always tenses up when I touch her. She can't even get me hard. I wish I were with you instead."

He cackled as the pit that you've always felt in your stomach when you were with him expanded. Though the affection you had for him had already waned by then, your husband's infidelity still felt like a shot to the chest. You wasted so many years trying to be who he wanted you to be, only for him to toss you to the side like an old toy with no batteries.

You were ashamed to say you followed him once during his escapades, watching across a dark alleyway as he entered a seedy hotel with a young beauty in his arms. Though she looked nothing like you, she reminded you of yourself. She seemed so nervous, so eager to please that treacherous man. All you could feel was pity, unsure if it was more for her or for yourself.

"You know I can't leave her right now, my love," he hummed into the phone, and you couldn’t help but gag. "I took her parents' debt in my name. I'm still paying it off. I feel nothing with her, I promise! Bitch can't even give a proper blowjob. She’s nothing like you."

Disgust seeped through your whole body that night. You couldn't even bear to face him in the bed you shared, tears welling up at the thought of having to be with him for any longer.

Your parents pleaded with you to hold out until the debt was fully repaid, until he no longer had control over them. Sehoon, ever the calculating person he was, wrote a clause stating that if you were to ever ask for a divorce, you would have to pay him back the remaining debt he still owed the loan sharks.

With no job and no escape plan, you had fallen into his trap. Sehoon would be the one to decide whether he ever wanted to set you free.

You wait another 30 minutes, packing the leftovers on the table into the refrigerator when he doesn't show up. Your duties as a wife did not and could not stop even after finding out about his affair. Sehoon reported every mistake and any sign of resistance to your parents. He knew the power they held over you, about your unwavering need to appease them. They scold you over the stories they hear from him, and you attempt to right every wrong to mold yourself into what he wanted.

But he doesn't know one thing, you think to yourself as you head to your shared bedroom. You lock the door, just in case.

You pull your phone out and open Twitter without hesitation. Typing away, you draft up a post that reads like every other one of your complaints about your mundane life.

housewifeblues: husband left me home alone again… how can you leave your wife like this, feeling so lonely?

But you know that’s not why 2.4k people follow you. 

You peel your shirt off your body, unclasping your bra and positioning yourself under the dim lights of the city outside your window. You let out a deep breath, psyching yourself up for what you’re about to do. You push out and accentuate the curves of your breasts as you arch your back forward.

You snap a few pictures with only the lower half of your face and naked chest visible.

You bite your nails as you hesitate to hit the ‘post’ button. You do it after a few seconds of indecisiveness. It’s not like it’s your first post, so why do you still feel so nervous? To Sehoon, you may be undesirable, but your online persona was worshipped like a goddess by so many.

The attention and validation of those who lusted after you on the internet filled in the hole of loneliness that Sehoon had opened in you. 

The noticeable birthmark above your breasts was a point of self-consciousness since the start of your marriage. Sehoon always pushed you to have it removed, stating it was unsightly against your skin. But the thousands of followers who complimented it constantly led you to cancel that appointment. It gave you a sense of pride knowing that you could drown out your husband's harsh words with the positivity of your online fans.

Your followers enjoyed how openly you talked about your miserable marriage, your qualms about being a housewife, and your husband's infidelity. Your posts garnered traction from those who relate to your struggles and those who fetishize them. At some point, you stopped caring what kind of person interacted with your posts. You just wanted to bask in some flattering words for once.

The likes had started to roll in, but at an abnormal pace. Since when was your engagement this high? You see in your notification tab that someone named "yawnszn" retweeted your post almost immediately after you uploaded it.

yawnszn: if he doesn’t want you, i volunteer as tribute

You catch yourself chuckling. Who was this?

Clicking on his profile picture, a page pops up of a bright red-haired man with a mole underneath his right eye, wearing a black face mask. 300k followers? And he was reposting your content? You rub your eyes to check if you were seeing correctly.

Intrigued, you scroll down and you almost drop your phone from the shocking imagery that fills your screen. The pinned video on his feed was of him, stroking his perfectly curved length with such focused concentration. He was thick beyond comprehension, veins so beautifully etched on the underside of his heaviness.

You hesitantly click on the video, cheeks warming at the lewd sounds that start to echo through the bedroom.

"You like that?" he would say in between grunts of pleasure. "I bet you do, huh? Bet you wanna make a mess all over me."

His brows were furrowed, glistening chest heaving as he resisted the urge to buck his hips up into his large hands. If only you could see him with that stupid mask off.

The stranger was methodical with his strokes, slowing his relentless pace when he teetered too close to his high. He was edging himself into a stronger and more drawn-out climax, rolling his head back onto his chair as Adam's apple bobbed up and down. 

Though his eyes were covered by wispy bangs, you could feel their intensity through the screen. The way he squinted and scrunched his nose in pleasure, staring daggers into the camera. He could tell you to lick the bottom of his shoe and you would probably do it. 

Wait–what?

You exit the app in a hurry, attempting to calm yourself. You were having very bad thoughts, ones you never even felt with your own husband. It wasn't right to think these things about another man, you tell yourself, as your thighs clench together from where you sat on your bed.

When Sehoon surprisingly comes home at 4 a.m., with his back turned towards you on the bed, you pretend to sleep. You replay the video of yawnszn in your head over and over again. You can't help but feel pathetic to feel so hot and heavy over a man retweeting you while your husband still reeks of another woman.

As Sehoon snores loudly next to you, you find yourself typing another post.

housewifeblues: he’s home with hickies on his neck... why does he even bother coming back?

It’s almost instant, the masked man’s reply. You bring a hand to your mouth to stifle a gasp.

yawnszn: let’s make it even. i can leave some on your pretty neck, too

You suppress a giggle that threatens to leave your lips. You stare back and forth between Sehoon’s hunched back and your phone to this masked man’s profile. There’s no harm in flattery, is there?

It's like an addiction, scrolling through his page on your burner account. You don't even follow him back on your main, but you can't help but refresh for more content. He posts daily, with livestreams every Friday. You tune in when Sehoon isn't around, which is almost all the time. Guilt is etched into your heart whenever you see his notifications, despite your husband's own infidelity not affecting his own psyche.

"Such fucking sluts," Yeonjun would scold his chat with his red hair pushed seductively away from his forehead. He plunges a plush fleshlight roughly down his pulsing cock. "You wish this were you riding me, huh? Too fucking bad."

The urge to touch yourself worsens after each livestream, but you hold out. You couldn't let yourself stoop to Sehoon's level. It’s not like you enjoyed posting photos with racy captions, you promise! It’s just a hobby, one that elicited flirty responses from a man you were very attracted to. You admit, maybe some photos were posted for him. He just didn’t know it.

During a livestream, you remember him talking about his love for doggy style. The next day, you miraculously posted a photo of your face planted on a pillow with your underwear-clad body arched eagerly with your ass in the sky.

housewifeblues: never been fucked in this position.

You swear it isn’t just for him specifically, even when you can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face at his comment the next day.

yawnszn: i think you need to take the picture at a better angle from behind… need help with that?

Even as you squirm in the shower and in the bed at the thought of a red-haired man plowing into you, you vowed to not be tempted to interact with him on your main account.

You were better than that, you convinced yourself. Better than Sehoon.

You're in the bed this time, lacy pink bra in full display on your phone’s camera. Your nipples are peaking through, and you lay your hand atop your chest to emphasize their shape. Tonight, you wanted to tease your followers. 

yawnszn’s constant interactions with your page fueled you to post more frequently. You found different angles and poses, anything that would let you stay relevant (and always on yawnszn’s feed). At some point, you noticed his likes and retweets were filled with only you.

It made your heart flutter at the thought of him being just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

And even better, it was a Friday. You chuckle to yourself as you lie on your stomach, clicking on his profile like clockwork. His room looked emptier than usual, with boxes piled up in the corner. The red-haired man's toned body finally comes into frame, gleaming with sweat from the warm lighting of his floor lamp. He looked like he had just finished working out.

"Wow," he stares at the chat, voice muffled by his mask. "Must be real fucking horny to join so early."

You let out a chuckle. It felt like he was actually talking to you.

"Some new names in here," he says as he sinks into his chair, carefully unzipping his jeans. His abdomen glistened with sweat, white briefs peeking through his unzipped jeans. He reads comment after comment, palming his bulge almost mindlessly.

You groan in frustration, wishing he were quicker at taking his stupid pants off. You feel almost compelled to comment just that– and so you did.

You: you’re teasing us…

His eyes scan the screen, and you can tell he seems genuinely shocked by something despite his masked expression.

"Well, look who it is," he laughs darkly as he starts to grip his clothed member more roughly. "Thanks for tuning in, housewifeblues. I didn't take you for such an eager viewer, pretty girl."

Your blood turns cold. Did he just say your username? But that couldn't be possible. You were on your burner account. Unless-

You scroll up to your comment, clearly showing the profile picture of half of your face and cleavage as the commenter. Burying your face into your pillow to let out a scream of sheer humiliation, you kick your feet in the air.

This can't be real.

"I'm flattered," yawnszn continues, not knowing the stages of grief you were going through. "I've been thinking about those pretty tits all day."

He pulls out his throbbing cock. It looked painful, you thought. His fingers traced over his angry tip, red and beating like it ached for release. 

You swallow, mouth watering at the view. His head was leaned back now, stroking himself languidly as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. You clench your pillow.

"Why don't we have some fun together, hm?" he asks teasingly, his hand pumping with half the force he usually uses. "I bet I could make you feel so good, baby. We can make your useless ass husband watch if you want."

You let out a small whimper, scanning over the comments from equally shocked viewers.

"god I'd pay good money to see you two fuck"

"me next?"

“is this ur kink?”

"stop talking about another bitch!!!"

He chuckles, reading the last one.

"My jealous babies," he teases, tugging his hair back with his unoccupied hand and showing his beautiful forehead. "There’s plenty of me to go around."

A wave of possessiveness washes over you, suddenly conscious that this wasn't just for you. He was selling his fantasy to all the viewers who watched him. There was no affection there, only the delusions of your touch-starved self. You feel a sudden pang of guilt in your chest. You wanted this stranger so badly, but you couldn’t have him. You're married. And it wasn't up to anyone else but Sehoon to change that.

"I'd fuck you on every surface I could get you on," he sighs out so sensually, pumping himself in a steady rhythm. "Have you begging for my cock until you're dependent on it."

Though tears well in your eyes from the mix of humiliation and regret, you rest your head on the pillow and grind against your mattress to the sounds of his arousal. 

"And you'd thank me each time I give it to you, wouldn’t you?" he laughs dryly. "Because that's all you want, right? Want me deep down in your throat. In your pussy. You'd even let me fuck your ass too, huh, baby?"

The comments flood in with crazed sentences, and you are no better.

You whimper at the vulgarity of his words, back arched against absolutely nothing. You wish he were positioned right behind you with those long fingers of his curling inside your deepest parts, coaxing your climax out of you. You’re almost tempted to slide a hand up your shirt, until you hear a familiar jangling of keys.

Quickly standing up, you exit that God forsaken app. Smoothing out your clothes, you prepare yourself to be ignored by Sehoon once again. He moves past you to walk to the bathroom, no greeting exchanged whatsoever. Your cheeks warm with frustration.

"Dinner is in the fridge," you say plainly. You sit back down on the bed, grabbing the phone to make sure his livestream was no longer playing. A few minutes pass, and you mindlessly stare at the wall as you hear your husband grumbling and mumbling in the bathroom. A notification pops up on your phone.

yawnszn has sent you a private message.

You feel the acceleration of your pulse almost immediately and check it against your better judgment.

yawnszn: come back, baby. i wasn't done with you yet. was putting on that show just for you ;)

You cover your mouth to stifle a scream, but immediately straighten your posture and harden your expression when Sehoon comes out of the bathroom. He reeks of cigarette smoke and cheap motel sheets. 

“Would it hurt you to smile once in a while?" he sneers. “Look so fucking creepy all the time.”

You muster up a small grin, one that doesn't meet the eyes. All he does is sigh. 

"Can't even follow simple instructions," he grumbles, slamming the door behind him. "Just leeching off me like a fucking parasite..."

You purse your lips. Sehoon always knew which words would hurt you the most, like he practices them in the mirror before he throws them at you. At one point, you wanted to be good for him. Wanted to show him that you could be the respectable wife he always wanted you to be. 

So, how the hell did it end up like this?

What were you doing, squealing like a teenage girl over some camboy on the internet? You shake your head rapidly, quickly deleting the message yawnszn sent. You didn't even get a chance to put your phone back on your lap when you heard another buzz. 

It's him again.

yawnszn: i wanna show you how a real man could make you feel. won't you let me?

And though you wanted nothing more, you leave him on ‘seen’.

An entire week goes by, and it was another Friday you couldn’t help but anticipate. You tried to stop viewing his page, you really did. But when the nights got cold and loneliness seeped through your bones, you couldn’t help but reread the messages yawnszn would boldly send you.

Today, you vowed not to think about that red-haired devil.

As you walk past the boxes stacked in the hallway, you make your way towards the unit right next to your apartment with Sehoon. A new neighbor was moving in. From sandwiches to tea cookies, you had spent your entire day making treats for the new addition to the ever-so-nosy apartment complex. With a cautious knock at the door, you stand in front of the unit with a basket of your handmade foods. 

Sehoon had conditioned you to be a good neighbor, never wanting Mr. Do's family on the second floor to look better than him after they gave everyone in the building a bottle of whiskey for New Year's. He forced you to greet new tenants and make cards for everyone's birthdays so he could soak in the compliments of having such a loving and kind wife. Meanwhile, he never even bothered to learn the names of the people on your floor.

He always assumed with your "immense amount of free time as a housewife" that all of these responsibilities would be handled by you. You roll your eyes at the thought. He couldn't even bother to take showers to get rid of his mistress's rancid scent. Did he really think people in this apartment thought he was a good husband?

You almost knock again until your new neighbor finally opens the door. He's tall, wearing a tight-fitting black hoodie. It wasn't zipped up fully, and his naked chest was slightly visible underneath. Was he wearing nothing under? 

You look up and tense at the sight. Red hair and black face mask. Mole under his right eye. You blink rapidly, almost as if his face would morph if you did it fast enough. It can't be… But who else could fit his description much better? This had to be yawnszn.

“Hello?” he greets, confused. His voice sends shivers down your spine. Was it wrong to assume that every strikingly red-haired man with fierce eyes and wearing a mask was your online crush? 

"Hi," you say, stomping down the stutter that wanted to come out. "I'm [Y/N], your next-door neighbor. My husband and I wanted to welcome you to the building with some treats."

He looks past the top of your head as if searching for someone behind you. 

"Where is this husband?" he asks in a teasing manner. You bite back a frown. Wasn't it a little inappropriate to ask these things?

"He's at work," you say plainly. 

"I'll only give my thanks to you then," he replies, resting his body on the doorframe. You feel electricity course through your veins as he brushes your hand softly, taking the basket from your tightened grip.

"I would love to repay you," he says, leaning his head toward your flustered face. You shy away from his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable that you're wearing a V-neck shirt as he looks down at you. You sense a flash of emotion in his gaze, quickly replaced by a gentle stare.

Did he know it was you? 

No, that’s ridiculous, you thought to yourself. How could he even tell?

"No need," you reply, embarrassingly quickly as you take a step back. "We don't expect anything in return."

"I insist," he says slyly. "Once I'm all settled in, I'll come see you."

He looks around the hallway again before bringing his masked mouth to your ear.

“Hopefully, when he’s not home.”

You freeze at his words as he closes the door with a small wave and a mischievous glint in his eyes. As soon as you rush to your apartment, you cross-examine his profile picture with the memory you had of your neighbor’s features. He didn’t even tell you his name! You scream into your living room cushion. You shake your head. 

Nothing will come out of this, you try to convince yourself. He was just being friendly. 

You stand up, ready to busy yourself with chores around the house to distract yourself from the feeling of dread forming in the pit of your stomach. He said he was stopping by, and you couldn't tell whether the funny feeling in your stomach was butterflies or something far more sinister… You touch your ear from where you felt his warm breath. Perhaps desire?

Later that day, you wait anxiously for his stream to start. Your back was against the headboard of your bed, twiddling your fingers from anticipation. Triple-checking, you made sure you were on your burner account this time. You click the notification as soon as it comes, and his empty room comes into view.

You stiffen at the new format, not at all like his old set-up. In fact, the walls and floor were the exact same shade as your own room. You groan, looking at the wall that faced your new neighbor’s place. That guy was definitely yawnszn. 

His masked figure is already naked, save for the white towel draped around his waist and his signature black mask.

"Moved into my new place," he says to the chat. "Like my new room?"

He scans the comments and sighs in disappointment. 

"Did I scare my baby away?" Your eyes widen. Was he looking for your username?

You can tell he's pouting through the mask, and you can't help but smile. Fuck. Why was this man so irresistibly hot and annoyingly cute at the same time?

"I don’t wanna do solo streams anymore, guys," he whines, his bulge already evident through the thin towel. You wonder how he's able to get hard so quickly.

"Wanna show y'all a different side of me," he sighs, dropping his towel to reveal the growing heaviness underneath. "Show you I'm not just all talk."

You clench your thighs, tensing when his large palm finds his towering length. He was always so vocal during his sessions, and even now, as he has barely just started, he was a mumbling mess. He’s seated now, clenched eyes in full view as he strokes himself in drawn-out movements.

Your eyes widen. You can hear him, but not just on video. His sounds reverberated through the wall. It's like you’re in the room with him as he's hunched over, drowning in his own pleasure.

"Don't be jealous when I bring someone in, okay?" he teases the chat that’s filled with comments of disapproval. "Just think it's you that I'll be fucking. Imagine how I’d cum inside a real pussy. How I’d shove it all back in. Doesn’t that sound nice? Making that pussy full of me."

You bite your lip at the thought, clenching the sheets beneath you as you hear his dirty whispers from the wall. 

You didn’t want that, you thought to yourself darkly. You didn’t want to see him, moaning and talking so filthy like this, with anyone. You couldn’t bear it. You were already suffering at the thought of your husband fucking his much younger mistress, you couldn’t lose yawnszn too. He was the only sense of freedom you felt in your dull, repeating life.

As crazy as you felt, you sat up to press your ear against the wall to hear him better. Your fingers dangerously ghost over your pajama shorts.

"Wanna have sex so bad, baby," he whines out. "Won't you let me?"

You let out a squeak. You can't take your eyes off his perfectly sculpted body, nor could you take your ear off the wall that separated the two of you in real life. You feel like a sick, deranged pervert. Your twisted desires are egging you on as your hand trails down your stomach and into your underwear. Your fingers run up your slit, already so wet from just watching him.

"I'd have you on your fucking knees," he sighs out, letting out that grunting sound he does when he's nearing his climax. "Take you from behind. You'd have to beg me to get off of you. I'd be in that pussy every day, every fucking night."

Your eyes roll back at the thought. Your pace quickens with his, drawing rapid circles on your swollen bud. You're grinding down against your own fingers, searching for something that you knew only this intoxicating stranger could give you. In some way, the fact that you are masturbating next to your oppressive husband’s pillow made everything feel that much more erotic. He doesn’t need to know how another man makes you feel.

"Gonna cum," his nose scrunches. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

As white, hot liquid spurts out of his beautiful cock, you let out a silent scream as you come undone yourself. With your right hand sticky with your climax, you feel tears well up in your eyes. What the fuck were you doing?

The next day, you see your mysteriously masked neighbor in the halls. It was instinct to give a small smile, tensing as he approached your cowering figure.

“Do you need help with that?” he asks. You blink back your confusion as he gestures at your fistful of groceries. You completely forgot you were holding them the moment you saw him.

“N-no,” you reply a little too quickly. “I’m almost at my door.” 

He chuckles. He attempts to grab one of the heavy-looking ones from you, but you dodge him just in time. The red-haired man had no idea what you did last night because of him. You felt dirty just being in his presence.

“I’m happy to help, you know?” he insists. “You don’t have to carry that all by yourself.”

Your grip on the groceries tightens. In all the years you were married to Sehoon, he never offered to help you with anything once. If it had nothing to do with finances or working, the rest was handled by you. It was sad to feel so happy hearing such minuscule gestures of kindness come from your neighbor of all people.

“I’ll let you know if I ever need it,” you smile at him, genuinely. To your surprise, he ruffles you on the head affectionately. He leans down, his face at the same level as yours.

“I’m Yeonjun,” he whispers as if he were saying a deep, dark secret. “I forgot to tell you yesterday.”

His name. He finally told you his name. How beautiful it sounds on those unseen lips. 

His eyes meet yours, and for a second, you just want to lean in and kiss him through that stupid mask. But he stands up straight, towering over you once again.

“Don’t be a stranger, [Y/N],” he says teasingly, walking away with his hands shoved down his jean pockets. Your heart flutters, and your attempts to push down the butterflies in your stomach were thwarted once again.

It’s like you see him everywhere now. From the convenience store down the street to the garden rooftop of your apartment complex. Yeonjun seemed to permeate every part of your existence, offline and online. Though he was probably unaware of how often you were posting in your underwear just to get a flirtatious response from him in your comments, you swore he was flustering you on purpose.

The way he would casually help you out of carrying heavy packages from your hands when you’d see him in the apartment lobby, or how he would casually talk about missing “housewifeblues” at the start of each stream. He was driving you crazy.

You weren’t an idiot; you knew his intentions. And though you keep your interactions as polite as possible, you find out a little too much about the man you’ve been lusting over for the past few weeks. 

Yeonjun tells you he doesn’t have many friends. He moved back home recently after doing university abroad and working there for a bit. He’s close with his mother and talks to her over the phone every day. He volunteers at pet sanctuaries over the weekends and wants to get a cat of his own someday. But when you pry, asking him how he’s able to afford the high rent your husband was paying for this swanky apartment complex at such a young age, he avoids answering completely. Simply says “I work a remote job,” but you know better.  

You know how he posts on OnlyFans daily, subscriptions increasing after every sensual stream where he gets paid thousands a night to pleasure himself on camera.

It’s one of those days when you run into him in the hallway. You’re wearing a tank top and yoga pants, and you just finished an at-home workout routine while you waited for your laundry to finish drying. You were exiting your place to make a quick run to the grocery store to prepare dinner for the night. 

Yeonjun was walking back to his apartment, eyes scanning you as you gave him a weak greeting. 

“Heading out?” he asks in a low tone, hands in his pockets. You nod, growing nervous at his intense gaze. He’s eyeing you over now, and you don’t notice how he hyperfixates on a certain area of your chest.

“My husband wants me to cook pasta tonight, and I forgot some ingredients,” you lie through your teeth, always feeling an urge to mention Sehoon in Yeonjun’s presence. Like you had to remind yourself that you still have one.

“Can’t he pick them up for you?” he asks inquisitively. You let out a small laugh at the suggestion.

“Dinner should be done before a husband gets home from work,” you say, as if it were routine. It’s what your mom would tell you. It’s what Sehoon would tell you. So why did you feel so small when Yeonjun looked at you with such pity in his eyes?

“If I were him,” he steps forward, brushing a stray hair from your flushed face. “I wouldn’t let my pretty wife cook all by myself.”

Your breath hitches as he looks at you. What you would give to have him. What would you do to keep that same expression on your face at all times? It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, that you should be subjected to a life of dissatisfaction when the one who could cure it was so near. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asks, the feeling of his hand still lingering by your ear.

“I always am,” you softly reply. And to that, he smiles.

You couldn’t look away, even as he walked away. 

“I’ll see you soon then.”

You hear the doorbell ring. Today was your deep cleaning day. You already washed the dishes, watered all the plants, and got dinner started. It was also the day after yesterday, which meant Yeonjun was coming over.

You open the door a little too eagerly. It was a little pathetic, you admit to yourself, how much you wanted to see him.

His livestream after your conversation yesterday was intense, more so than usual. He propped his phone on his bathroom counter, stroking himself in the shower. You searched for his moans in your walls, imagining his hands on you like they were just hours prior. You ached to hear him, addicted to the way he sounded since the last time you watched him live and heard him through the walls.

Shaking your head to prevent yourself from getting carried away by your thoughts, you finally open the door.

It was him, red hair and all.

"Hey," your masked neighbor greets you with a bag in his hand. "I brought some cake. I finally got around to finishing everything in the welcome basket. They were all so delicious, thank you."

"You shouldn't have," you say politely, holding back your giddiness. "My husband’s at work right now, but I'll save some for him later."

He holds the bag up to you, and you take it from him cautiously, careful not to touch him. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your fingers quiver.

"Oh?" he looks past you at the empty apartment. "It's already dinner time, though?"

You smile sadly.

"He's not actually home that often," you say, trying to push down the bitterness in your voice. “He gets busy.”

You can't tell from his mask whether he feels sorry for you, but his eyes do seem rather intense.

"Shall we eat the cake together then?" he suggests. "I like sweet things."

Your heartbeat quickens. The only man who has ever set foot in your apartment was Sehoon and your father. It felt wrong to invite him in, but it felt even more wrong to say no to him. And so you take a step back as an invitation for this stranger (who isn't really a stranger) into your tidy space.

He's sitting next to you on the couch, a healthy distance away from you. He slices the cake evenly between you two, handing you the small plastic fork that came with the bakery.

"It's so rare for neighbors to greet each other these days," he commends you. "When you showed up at my door, I thought I was in a movie.”

“It’s just common courtesy,” you reply. “I’ve done it for everyone who’s moved into the complex.”

He chuckles.

“If I had known I'd be moving in next to someone so kind and beautiful, I would have signed my lease sooner."

You smile at his compliment, warmth seeping into your cheeks. You take a bite out of the cake. Strawberry shortcake. Your favorite. You notice that familiar gaze of his as it lingers on you. His foxy eyes scan you up and down slowly, and you'd never felt more exposed in your life despite being fully clothed.

"What a waste of a husband," he starts, leaning into you slowly, "to neglect you."

You freeze under his fiery gaze. His voice sounded different, unlike his playful teasing in the hallways. No, this was not Yeonjun. This was the camboy who moans out dirty words through unrelenting thrusts into his hand, biting back at viewers who command him to take it slow. 

The fork falls from your mouth and onto your lap as he inches closer.

"You deserve a better man," he says closely in your ear. "Someone who doesn’t leave you lonely."

You hold a shaky hand against his chest, preventing him from getting closer.

“What do you mean?”

He’s grinning underneath the mask. 

"[Y/N]," he draws your name out teasingly. "You're on a naughty part of Twitter, aren't you?"

You bring your hand down in an attempt to seem normal, but your nervous lip biting fails to make you look even remotely convincing.

"I have no idea what you're-"

"Don't worry," he interrupts, laying his arm around the couch behind you. "I'm not planning to dox you or anything."

He digs his phone out of his pocket with his other hand and shows you a sight you're already so familiar with: his Twitter profile.

"Look," he says, carelessly scrolling through his lewd content right in front of you like it was normal. "I know you know who I am. Like how I know who ‘housewifeblues' is.”

No, you tell yourself. This can’t be happening. 

"Listen, Yeonjun," you start carefully. "I don't know what you're talking about or who you think I am, but I don't feel comfortable continuing this conversation with you."

You can sense a smirk behind that damn mask of his.

"You know you don't do a very good job of hiding who you are," he chides. “Not very quiet when you’re touching yourself either.”

Your eyes widen, and he lets out a muffled laugh.

 "I didn't even have to see your beauty mark to know it was you, baby,” he continues lazily. “The way you looked when I mentioned your husband the first time I met you was enough for me to know. Reminded me about all the times you complained about him with those pretty pictures of yours."

His eyes fixated on your beauty mark and back up to your face, revelling in the way you nipped at your bottom lip anxiously.

"You don’t understand,” he whispers, his hand ghosting over your cheek. “How often I imagine it’s your hands on me when I go live.”

"Oh," you purse your lips, attempting to prevent noises of pleasure from coming out of your mouth.

"What's wrong?" he gazes into you. "Cat got your tongue?"

Yeonjun’s large hand hovers over your breasts, and you unknowingly arch your back toward him like it was instinct. When he sees nothing but lust clouding your vision, he takes a mound in his palm and massages you gently. You gasp at the feeling. It's been ages since you've been touched like this.

He kneads with both hands this time, intently watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But all he could see were your furrowed brows in pure ecstasy. He scoots closer to you, dragging his fingers across your abdomen as he lifts your shirt. Yeonjun's gaze darkens, your bare tits heavy in his hands. He massages, circling your nipples. They’re stiff from the cool air and his prodding fingers. Your head rolls back, moans coming out in meek bursts.

"I h-have a husband," you stutter out in between moans. It comes out like you’re reminding yourself more than to remind him. Yeonjun’s back rests on the couch, dragging you so that your spine is against his chest. He continues the push and pull of his eager hands on your breasts as you sit between his legs. 

"According to you," he starts, burying his masked face into your cheek, directly whispering into your ear. "He's already cheating, isn't he? Is it fair that he gets to have all the fun?"

You rest your head back onto his shoulder as he continues to tease you, pulling at your erect nipples harshly and then soothing them with his soft thumbs. 

It’s like he’s debating something in those furrowed brows of his, and when you roll your hips back into his, it feels like something snapped. Yeonjun pulls his mask down in one swift motion, and you almost moan out loud at the sight of his gorgeous face. 

His features are simultaneously sharp and soft, his lips so full and so kissable. No wonder he kept his face hidden; he was too dangerous for the internet to see. Everyone would fall in love. He'd be swarmed on the streets. Wars would be waged over him.

"I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, his gaze following your parted mouth. His face hovers over yours, and you shut your eyes in anticipation. It's almost soft the way his lips meet yours, slowly molding you to follow his rhythm. He pushes his tongue into your mouth gently, prodding so deeply that your saliva mixes with his. He grinds up into you from behind, the tent of his pants meeting the curve of your ass at a perfect angle. 

You kiss him back with an equal amount of fervor. You push yourself against him harder, eliciting a stifled moan from him.

Images of Sehoon flash in your mind, but are immediately erased as Yeonjun grounds your hips into his. He pulls down your pants hurriedly, his mouth never leaving yours. You spread yourself wide for him. You knew for the first time in your life what you wanted. He runs his finger through the wet spot of your lacy lilac underwear, latching his index finger to do small circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves just above your slit. His tongue clashing with yours as you attempt to stifle the low moans coming out of your throat.

He parts from your lips slowly, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He looks down to where he's touching you, a shit-eating grin on his gorgeous face. So that’s how he smiles, you think to yourself, lost in the feeling of his fingers on the soft material of your cloth-covered clit. 

His pace is slow and methodical, leaving you conflicted on whether you should grind down on his twitching cock or buck your hips into his coaxing ministrations. It's not enough for you, but you'll take anything he can give.

"You're so wet already, baby," he croons. "Your underwear is soaked."

You whine when Yeonjun stops his movements suddenly, searching for friction by thrusting up into his still palm. You whine in relief when he pushes your panties to the side, running a teasing finger up and down your bare slit. 

"Fuck," he looks over your shoulder and past your chest, to get a better look at the effect he has on you. He inserts his middle finger in, your folds practically engulfing him with a loud squelch. In and out, it disappears into you with fervor and stretches you out so deliciously. Everything about him was so long, you couldn’t imagine what his dick would feel like.

"You swallowed my finger so well, baby. Think you can fit another?"

You nod, breathing so heavy you can't find it in yourself to quell your anticipation.

"Yes," you practically plead. Yeonjun chuckles.

"Lift your hips up," he directs you, planting another open-mouthed kiss on your lips as you follow him mindlessly. "I'm gonna take these panties off you, okay?"

You nod again, your feet high in the air so your godforsaken underwear could finally be removed. He pumps his finger, now slow and controlled. When he feels you loosen up a bit, he inserts his index finger in too, with slightly more resistance from your tightness. You groan, from both pain and pleasure. His hands were so big. So veiny. The way he curled his fingers up to reach a spot you never knew you had in you. Fuck, you felt so full already.

You don't know how it happens or how you got there, but you're on your back as Yeonjun hovers over you, pistoning his fingers in and out at a faster pace. His palm is grinding down on your mound, hitting every right spot as his fingers scissor into you. His tongue finds yours again, battling for dominance to distract you from the dull ache of being stretched out. He inserts a third finger in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You’re not sure your body could take it, but you would. For him. His fingers, so thick and relentless, buried deeper inside your aching folds.

"I feel weird," you say as a bubbling and fiery sensation starts at your toes. You’re a muttering mess. "Never... felt.. this… good…"

Yeonjun chuckles, purposefully removing his fingers inside of you slowly, preventing you from reaching that elusive high you didn’t know you were chasing. Your hips meet the sky, mourning the loss of his touch. He traces featherlight kisses down your body, his face now directly in front of your pretty cunt.

"Your husband's never made you feel like this, baby?" he says, giving a few teasing kisses on your inner thigh.

"N-no," you cry out loud. "H-he's never even gone down there."

He stops his lapping to look up at you.

"He's never eaten you out?" he scoffs. "What a fucking loser."

Yeonjun dips his head between your legs and drags his tongue along your wet folds in one long stroke. He laps at you like a dog, addicted to your nectar on his lips. 

“Oh my god, Yeonjun-”

Your toes curl as he buries his tongue in you. He pumps it in and out of you as his hands grip your ass so tightly, you start to think you’d bruise from it. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. The fiery sensation building inside you returns almost immediately.

He peppers kisses on your mound, his mouth finding its new target. He sucked your clit hard, tongue circling your bundle of nerves until your stomach starts to tighten. Yeonjun lifts your hips up, pushing his face deeper into your folds. You clench around nothing, whining at both the pleasure and the loss of his tongue fucking into you. As if he read your mind, Yeonjun’s fingers find their way back to your folds. Teasing the entrance, you push yourself up into him, burying his digits deep in you as he continues his attack on your clit. Yeonjun licks and prods like a man starved of food, relishing in the messiness coating his chin and the addicting melody of your moans.

Your hips stutter as you feel the waves crash down on you. 

"Ahhh," you whine. Your body writhed underneath him, fingers clawing the couch armrest above your head.

You plant your heels onto the couch with shaky legs, and you cry out again. You feel something, whatever it is, building inside you. Your moans come out in panicked bursts until you start to see white, your juices spraying all over Yeonjun's face. He groans at the feeling, still burying his face into you. He lets you ride out your high as you grind languidly onto his nose. It takes him years until he pulls away, chuckling at your fucked out face and splayed out hair.

"You squirt, baby?" he teases, getting back on his knees to tower over your lying figure on the couch. "To think you couldn't get more perfect."

You shake your head, chest heaving up and down.

"I didn’t know I could do that," you confess. Yeonjun laughs in response, a little distracted. He pulls his hair back away from his face, his forehead glistening against your warm living room light. You want to kiss those pouty lips of his again. Your eyes travel downwards, to his strained gray sweatpants. Though you couldn’t see it, you knew. He was bigger, much bigger in real life.

“He doesn’t know what to do with you,” he mutters to himself, his thumb finding your lips. “Can’t get you wet like I do, huh?”

You nod mindlessly, taking his thumb into your mouth as he pushes your tongue down with it.

“Probably fake your orgasms with him, hm?” His eye contact never broke away from your hooded lids. “Don’t ever need to pretend with me, baby. I can make you feel good.”

You barely notice it at first, but Yeonjun pulled his phone out. It’s quiet as he takes his thumb off of you to open the camera app. You stare silently as he props up his phone using the cake box he brought, sitting all neglected on the coffee table.

You say nothing, pursing your lips as you watch him put his face mask, soaked in your fluids,  back on. He adjusts the camera. You look away in panic when he hits the red button to record a video.

“Don’t get my face,” you say hurriedly. You wonder why that’s the first thing you say. Not “stop”, not a refusal. Some part of you wanted this, craved it so badly your legs widened for him again. He chuckles, glad that you don’t seem displeased with him.

"Don't worry, baby," Yeonjun says as he strokes your hair affectionately. “I'll pixelize it."

He unzips his hoodie, the same one he wore the day you first met him, revealing his toned body underneath. He did not take it off, letting it hang from his body like an accessory. You couldn't take your eyes off Yeonjun and the way his chest gleamed with sweat. 

"Fuck," he says breathlessly as he looks down at you, masked and still so hot. "I need to be inside you."

He pulls his pants down, and you bite your lip as a reflex. His cock was so pretty, standing tall as it slapped against his stomach. So big and so girthy, tip so vexingly red like in his videos. You've never taken anything his size ever. 

"You want a taste?" he asks teasingly, slowly stroking himself up and down at the sight of you. You nod, but you don't know why. You hated giving blowjobs. The smell, the taste. You were even open about it on your account.

But here you are, climbing over Yeonjun as he lies down on the couch your husband always sleeps on when a football match is on. Your doe eyes were level with his pulsating length, mouth salivating in anticipation. Inhaling him, it was nothing like Sehoon's mustiness. He smelled clean, like fresh laundry.

"Need my help?" he teases. "Want to make me feel good?"

You nod. "Yes, please."

The voice you hear coming out of you doesn't feel like your own. Your eyes shift to the phone, shuttering at the lewd sight of you in between his naked thighs. What did Yeonjun turn you into?

His hand holds your head, wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He pushes your face down gently, closer to his cock. You take the hint and hold him in your hand, tightening your grip. You drag your tongue on the underside of his heaviness, and he lets out a hiss that makes you clench around nothing.

"Take it into your mouth," he commanded softly, propping you onto his shoulders to watch you more intently. "Use your tongue. No teeth. And stroke what you can't take, baby."

You listen to him without hesitation. Mouth enveloping his tip, you swirl your tongue around it. The further your head bobs down, the more confidence you gain as you hear Yeonjun curse under his breath. His hand gently guides you down deeper as you swallow around his throbbing length. You pump him up and down from his base, using your dripping saliva as lube. Yeonjun’s whines permeate the room, just like in his videos. Pride swells up in your chest to know that it was you who made him feel this good. He’s never had a video with anyone else. You were the first.

You want to make him feel even better, make him feel like how you did just minutes before. You take your hand off him and lower your mouth further down his length. You work your way up and down his cock to ease the stretch of him as he thrusts up into your mouth listlessly.

"So good," he says through muffled moans. "Fuck-"

Before you can bottom out, Yeonjun pulls you up haphazardly. Your mouth came off him with a small ‘pop’ that had you smiling slyly. His eyes are glazed over, dragging you up by your shoulders.

"Need to taste you again," he says through bated breaths, pushing you down where he was lying mere seconds ago. “Need this pussy all over my tongue.”

"Did I do good?" you ask, lips shimmering with his fluids, as he positions his face above your folds once more. He smiles up at you.

"Don’t ask dumb questions, baby," he says, lowering his mask down to plant a kiss right above your clit. “Was gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours from how good it fucking felt.”

Your thighs hide his face from view, hiding the brutal pace of his tongue on your wet cunt from the camera’s view. Yeonjun did not hold back, so different from earlier. His mouth was relentless on your clit, planting French kisses on it like his tongue was searching for something underneath. He grabs the plushness of your thighs, forcing you to wrap them around his face. Scared of suffocating him, you try to pull away, but Yeonjun keeps your legs locked in place with an unyielding grip. 

Your eyes are blurry with tears from the sensitivity, eyes meeting the phone as you watch yourself get devoured so messily. You grasp at his red hair, pulling him away, but to no avail. You need him so bad it’s starting to hurt.

"Wanna cum with you inside me, please," you beg, already feeling that familiar coil in your stomach. "No more..."

He lifts his head up with a languid lick up your slit. Yeonjun licks his lips, his mouth and chin drenched in your fluids. He laughs as he looks up into your face, so eager and needy for him. Fuck, where were you all his life?

"You think you're ready, baby?" he asks, freeing himself from the cage of your supple legs that he willingly trapped himself in. He pulls his mask back on before crawling back up to you. His cock ghosts over the area below your belly button, guiding it down lower with his right hand.

“Think you can take all of me?”

He aligns his length atop your entrance, stroking it along your wet outer folds. He taps his angry, hot tip against your clit, and it’s enough to make you whine. Your tears threaten to spill over.

"Please," you cry out. "I want it so bad."

"Want what?" he teases. 

"I can’t," you whine as you try to avoid his intense gaze. He laughs darkly.

“I need to hear you say it,” Yeonjun smirks. “How else am I supposed to know what you’re asking for?”

Your face contorts into a silent scream when you feel his rawness slowly sink into you. He holds it there, thrusting only the tip into you.

“I need you inside me,” you whine. “Please, I need you to fill me up with your cock and fuck me.”

Yeonjun smirks.

“That’s all you had to say.”

He digs out a condom from his hoodie's pocket. He rips the packet open with his mouth and hands it to you, chuckling at your confusion.

"Put it on me," he coaxes. 

Your husband never ever used a condom, always assuming that you'd be okay with having unprotected sex and bearing his child. For the first time in your life, you wished a condom wasn't in the picture. You wanted to throw it to the other side of the room and beg him to fuck you raw and full. That you would be happy to carry his child and leave your husband for good. 

But you push those twisted fantasies to the deep recesses of your mind and take the stretchy material in your hand anyway. He watches as you hesitantly run the condom down his pulsing length. You're slow and deliberate, like you’re waiting for him to change his mind and fuck you without it. All he does is smile, stroking your hair out of your face.

“Good girl.”

Yeonjun positions himself behind you in a sitting position, your legs draped over his thighs to give the camera a good view of your puffy folds. He lifts you up high as he grips the back of your knees from behind, rubbing his tip up and down your slit to pick more of your juices up. 

“Look at you,” he whispers into your ear. “So fucking needy. Dripped all over my face, but all you wanted was this cock, huh?” You nod, mindlessly, whimpering in pathetic agreement.

Slowly, he impales you onto him.

You roll your head back onto his shoulder, biting down on his neck to distract yourself from the pain. Despite all the foreplay, you were still not used to his size. He was just too thick, still too large for you to take in. When you see his tip disappear into your folds, your tears start to fall down your face. It hurt, but you couldn’t have him pull away. You needed him right where he was. Inch by inch, you suction him in until-

"Shit," Yeonjun moans as the base of his cock hits your entrance. Fully engulfed in your folds, he steadies his breathing. You were so warm, so fucking irresistible in the way you clench around him in waves. He waits a few seconds until he starts to lift you up again. His hands are holding you from underneath your thighs, and with his support, you drop yourself back down on him. You cry out from the pressure you feel in your stomach. You can feel him against it, the small bulge visible underneath your belly button. He's hitting the deepest parts of you.

"Your pussy was made for me. So fucking tight.”

Yeonjun’s grip on you is tensing so suddenly. He bends you forward, so that your hands are on his knees as he pistons up into you. You can’t help but stare at the screen, moaning as you watch him push into you from behind.

"Oh my god," you cry out as he pulls your hips down against him. His length grinds against a spongy spot inside of you, and when he realizes he’s hit it from the way your mouth morphs into a silent O-shape, he smirks. What started as slow, cautious thrusts suddenly turned into a brutal and unforgiving pace of his monstrous cock within the deepest parts of your pussy. Yeonjun hit your G-spot again and again and again, his thrusts deep and unwavering.

"Look at how you’re letting me fuck you dumb," he groans out, grabbing your tits from behind as they bounce mercilessly in front of the camera. "So fucking wet for me."

You fall so forward that you're grabbing onto the coffee table now as Yeonjun stands up, while unrelenting in his thrusts into you. He kicks back the couch slightly, propping a leg up on it to have a better angle to fuck you. He pushes you down, having your back arched perfectly for the camera, as his thrusts quicken. 

“Ngh— Ah— I can’t—”

You try to quiet your moans, afraid of who might hear. Afraid of who might come into the living room to see you getting railed so hard and so desperately by someone who isn't… Wait, who was he again? 

"Taking me so well," Yeonjun grunts, pulling you away from your thoughts. "Like a fucking bitch in heat."

He slaps you hard on the ass, grabbing it right after, like you’d disappear if he didn’t. You squeal at the impact, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you.

“P-please, Yeo-” He stuffs his fingers in your mouth, preventing you from saying his name. You forget what this was, you forget that he was recording.

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl,” he snarls.

“Wha-”

Pushing you off him, Yeonjun throws you onto the couch. You let yourself be manhandled by him, reaching out for his shoulders desperately, wanting so desperately for his dick to find its way back inside you. 

“You like when I’m mean, huh?” Yeonjun laughs as your mouth holds open at the absence of his fingers. “Like when I break you, hm?”

Inserting himself back in your wetness, Yeonjun holds you against the couch in a mating press. His eyes gaze intensely into yours.

"Let me hear you, baby," Yeonjun coaxes, his thrusts slow and shallow just to hear you whine. "Let them know who this pussy belongs to.”

You whimper, grinding up against him. You're desperate for him to be rough again, to put you in your place. To have your mind only clouded with thoughts of him and his cock only. God, he made a mess of you.

“Or am I not doing enough to hear you scream?” he pouts underneath his mask, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Maybe I should go harder…so I can hear you better."

He laughs, and you don't even have a chance to reply as Yeonjun pushes into you with a force so guttural that you feel his tip hit the entrance of your cervix. 

Like he predicted, you screamed at the painful ecstasy of being filled to the absolute brim. 

“Fuck–”

He continues his pace hard and fast, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your nails are clawing at his back, his head buried deep in your neck. His own moans rival yours.

“Yes, baby. Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this pussy for so long–”

 You don't realize the cry you let out when he hits that inner spot again. He thrusts, grinding against it again and again and again until you start seeing stars. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you breathe out. “I’m–”

“Louder, baby,” Yeonjun coaxes. “Need to hear you.”

Your mind breaks as the world comes undone around you. Your moans have devolved into ear-piercing whines, tears running down your face in pure ecstasy. 

Your climax hits you in droves as he continues to fuck you through it. He did not stop.

"I'm sensitive," you cry out in between your unintelligible babbling. "Please..."

Yeonjun shushes you, bringing your head close to his chest. You're practically sobbing now, pleasure overriding every other emotion in your body. Even the one nagging you about what Sehoon would think of you right now. About what your parents would think of their precious daughter.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly as he continues to slowly thrust into you. "You can do it again, right? Just give me one more, baby."

Your face is contorted into a million different expressions as he adjusts to pick up his pace. It never stopped feeling good, but it was too much for your body to handle. Were you ever supposed to feel this much pleasure in your lifetime?

"I'm so close," he whines, his masked face buried deep in your neck. The noises your bodies produce are sinful. Squelches and slapping of bare skin echo throughout the living room. Your tits bouncing against his chest, your nipples rubbing against his. You can feel his breath quicken, and you tighten the grip of your folds to push him towards it. You want to see it, want to see how he comes undone from someone other than himself. 

Yeonjun’s thrusts become erratic, and his hold on your ass intensifies. You wanted to see it bruise the next day. He brings his left hand to your clit, and you yelp at the sudden intensity. His thumb circles you softly, so different from the brutal pace of his cock. The different sensations have you moaning into his neck. 

“I can’t. It’s too much, it’s too much, it’s–”

“Shh,” Yeonjun pushes out through his own whines. “Need you to cum with me, need to feel it.”

You never knew you could want someone so bad, to be so lustful over another. The way his brows contort, so focused on bringing both of you to your peaks. You wish you could kiss him, but his mask brings out a different desire inside of you. 

You might be the only viewer of his to have seen him without it. A wave of pride consumes you; the thought of other people watching him fills you with rage mixed with lust. 

You feel the dam of your floodgates come undone once again as you clench around at the thought. Wouldn’t it be so nice to have him all to yourself? No husband to worry about, no viewers to get jealous over. Just him and you, fucking every damn moment of your lives.

Your tears of hot pleasure surge once again, and he groans at the sight of you so fucked out by him. 

“So fucking perfect,” he groans.

Your tightness propels him to grind into you harshly, the couch scratching the floor with his movements. One final thrust has him cumming hard into the condom, fully bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck-” Yeonjun moans as he buries his hair in the crook of your neck. 

You milk him of his climax, your body grinding into his to soothe his comedown. What you would do to rip the stupid condom off him and let his cum trickle out of you and down your thigh. You think you’d be willing to actually be a mother if it meant that Yeonjun could fuck you raw.

He sighs as he rides out both your highs with small, steady thrusts. Shaking from oversensitivity, you stop his movement to pull him in closer. 

Yeonjun collapses on top of you, not noticing the phone lying flat on its back from the impact of his roughness. You sigh out contentedly, petting his fiery hair. 

'So this is what real sex feels like,' you think to yourself. 

You felt like you were drifting on a cloud, with a man so beautiful lying on your chest. He scans your face, and a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. Before you could push him off, Yeonjun removes his mask to plant a soft kiss on your flushed lips.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Yeonjun says with a sad smile, stroking your cheek. “Don’t ever let him think it’s the other way around.”

"Sorry for staying so late," Yeonjun apologizes, his plate fully cleaned out. "Your cooking is amazing."

You smile. He wasn’t wearing his mask anymore, as it sits in your laundry hamper desperately waiting for a wash. You couldn’t get over how glaringly beautiful he is. What did he do in a past life to be blessed with such features?

“It’s not all me,” you say, standing up from the dining table. “I had a great assistant.”

Yeonjun smirks.

“Cutting vegetables is the easy part,” he chimed in. “The fact you can season stuff perfectly without measurements is insane, [Y/N]. If he doesn’t come home to eat your dinners, I will gladly take them off his hands.”

You stand up, take the dishes, and put them in the sink. The guilt crept into the back of your mind. What were you doing letting this man fuck you in your home and help you cook dinner with you after?

This was not right. This is not the person you wanted to become. You can’t let this happen again.

‘I am married,’ you tell yourself over and over again. What would people think if they knew?

"Look, [Y/N]," Yeonjun stands up, making his way behind you. He dangles his phone in front of your face. The thumbnail of a pixelized girl and a masked man fucking on a pristinely white couch, one eerily similar to the one in your living room.

He uploaded the video. Without telling you.

"Yeonjun-" you gasp, your eyes widened with shock.

"Before you say anything," he starts. "I promise your face isn’t visible. But people may or may not have already picked up that it’s you– or at least the online version of you.”

56,000 likes and 5.4k retweets. You start to feel dizzy. Too many people have seen your body react in ways you hadn't even known it could until today. Although your face was pixelated, everything else was you. The way your toes curled when he fucked you with his tongue. The way your mouth wrapped around his big, veiny cock so willingly. The way you bounced on his dick, legs wide open just for him. 

You felt your body turn cold at the thought of your husband finding out, of seeing you so intimate with another man. Would he tell your parents? Would you have to waste the years you spent with him by having to pay him back?

"You're at 20k followers now," Yeonjun continues, not noticing the inner turmoil you were going through. "I uploaded the full video on OnlyFans and we really raked it in. I'll send you the money we earned next week. So far we've made this much already."

Your eyes widen. Your whole body freezes when he turns the screen over to you. The amount of 0s had you doing a double-take.

"Like just from one hour?"

Yeonjun nods.

“More than usual for me, too.”

You weren't allowed to have a job. Sehoon said it would make him look bad to have a wife who works. You could never put your hard-earned degree to use, could never get some extra money to spend on yourself. He gave you nothing to work with. The money that Yeonjun showed you will be the first time you've had any type of income on your own since you got married.

"You like that, huh?" Yeonjun says teasingly, wrapping a hand around your waist from behind. He nuzzles his neck into your shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be living a good life in no time with what we're earning."

“What do you mean?” you ask cautiously. You can feel his face nearing yours.

“You know what I mean,” he starts slowly.

He brings his other hand to wrap around your neck, applying a soft pressure. 

"I can satisfy your cravings," Yeonjun whispers darkly. "Make you forget all about that piece of shit.”

His hands trap you against the counter.

“Should we make more videos together, baby?" He draws out his pet name for you, and it almost makes you want to pounce on him.

Without your consent, he uploaded a video of you two having sex for the whole internet to see. 

You should say no. Every part of you is telling you to say no, but you don't want to.

You don’t think you could live without his cock inside of you at least one more time. His attentiveness, his care for you… You wanted it all. Was it so wrong to be selfish? 

"It's not cheating," Yeonjun assures you, filling in your silence. "We'd just be business partners after all."

He licks the back of your ear, coaxing you to look at him. His eyes are wide with expectation, so out of character for his usually hooded gaze.

“I won’t push your boundaries again,” Yeonjun insists. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

How could you say no to him with his fluffy hair and seductive eyes? He had you the moment he stepped through those doors. Hesitantly, you nod. 

"Okay," you say shyly under his gaze. "Let's do it."

Yeonjun smiles through the mask. In swift movements, he reaches around you and underneath you to stuff his hand in your pants.

"You look good in this apron," Yeonjun whispers, pushing his sweats down with urgency. "Let's film another one right now."

“Did you remember to put on sunscreen before we left angel?” Taehyun kisses his teeth in the front mirror, shooting a glare right through to the ash-blonde who retracts his foot back towards the floor, keeping quiet about the muddy footprints he’s already plastered.

Your head pops off from resting against your palm, turning to face your designated driver who’s got his eyes busy on the road. Glasses pushed up his nose, hair messily tousled and styled by his fingers alone, which is to say slightly overgrown and tickling down the back of his neck. “I had Jun apply some for me earlier. Couldn’t reach my back properly, you know.”

“—She took her bra off so I could apply it correctly too.”

“Jun!” Mortified, you whip your head towards the back with your eyes peeled open. Sort of unsure of whether pressing your finger to your lips to shush him would help with damage control, or if overexplaining yourself would be a better route with Taehyun. “Don’t make it weird! I-I wanted to wear a backless shirt, that’s all.”

Taehyun hums knowingly, but it passes through his lips so monotone that it worries you honestly, until he opens his mouth to speak. “I’m surprised he didn’t offer to rub sunscreen around the inside of your thighs. Sounds like something he’d d—"

“Oh! No he offered to do it for me too while I was drying my hair.” Your face beams as if you saved yourself heaps of time by letting Yeonjun do all the hard work. Hell, you even offer to help save time by applying sunscreen on both of them the next time you’re out.

“—And, I got to see the cute little panties she wore to go golfing. The purple see-through pair you bought for her Taeh—”

“Ohmygod Jun shut up!” Poor guy doesn’t receive a warning for the bottle of hand cream you toss at his face. From head to toe, you’re quivering with embarrassment, hands balled up as you glare at him from peeking over the passenger seat before he could pull anything else out of his foul mouth. You also think about correcting him for a second, about the fact that the thread was starting to come undone to those sheer panties Taehyun bought for you with ‘no intentions’. Thus your current predicament right now, with an underwear shortage you can’t even pinpoint when it began to happen and how they happened to have gone missing throughout the weeks and a last resort. A pair of white boxers that belonged to Yeonjun, which is albeit, better than going commando.

The grip around your thigh steadily tightens even more as Taehyun strokes his hand further up your thigh, settling around the warm skin of your inner part, tapping his fingers against the plush gently as he steers another turn.

“He’s no good, angel. Would’ve eaten your pretty pussy through your panties if I were him.” A chuckle gears through him as he flashes his signature wide grin, groping the flesh on your thigh as if to reinstate his point, that the option was still available if you’d just tell him to pull over onto the hard shoulder.

It’s even worse that you can’t bring yourself to give him a proper answer. Immediately sailing your mind elsewhere by plugging in your wired headphones into one of those chemistry podcasts that could’ve been summarised as a text instead of an hour-long frenzy about relativity. Although the low-set volume is quickly overran by the muffled conversations between the two men, and a couple of laughs you’re all of a sudden feeling too hot to tune into as Taehyun pulls into the course.

But by the time all three of you are handed the wackiest, worn-down clubs they had to offer, you learn that both of your friends who dragged you along here in the first place weren’t as amateur as they had proposed to you.

Your roommate for one, has swung his club with enough strength to land the gold ball far off towards the end of the course. Biceps bulging as he steadies himself into position, patting himself on the shoulder with a joking kiss blown in your direction which you swat your hand at. That being the worst decision you could’ve made by the time he runs towards you in disbelief, knocking into Taehyun in the process.

“Not liking the performance pretty? Turns out I’m pretty good at this, no?” The brunette scoffs in the far distance watching the ash-blonde tip off his hat to stump it loosely on top of your head, finding the means to meet your gaze at eye level as he points towards his golf ball that’s surpassed yours by a mile already. “Reward me?” His finger draws your attention directly to the apple of his cheek, puffed out by a smile and lightly rosy as he taps against his skin, inching for a kiss he knows you’re too shy to give.

“Tough crowd. What about a blowjob?” You’re taken aback by it at first, mind spinning to remember what a blowjob even was in the first place when a grueling groan ruptures from Yeonjun’s lips as he falls to hug his ankle. Right beside it, a golf ball, probably steaming from the friction as you look across to Taehyun who can only care to give a brief ‘sorry, wrong way.’

In fact, he’s already moving on to his turn as he positions his golf club, shifting the weight on his feet to grasp his ground and play methodically— plan it out tactically, as he always has done. “Take notes Jun, then you won’t sound so pathetic next round.” A mean laugh fizzles out of him as he cranes his neck towards the side, left hand steering the club just about enough as his aim tells him as he locks eyes with the white ball.

“Hole in one and I get to cum inside.” Your jaw drops slack as the sentence passes through one ear and hastily rushes to get out the other, as well as turning your head a full 360 to make note of whether anyone else managed to hear something so vulgar coming from your plot of field. And well, your jaw only drops further which you didn’t even believe was possible as you track the locus of the ball as it bounces off from one surface to the other, circling just around the flagged hole before ultimately dropping itself right in.

Right into the hole in one shot, and you can’t help but meet Jun’s eyes in equal disbelief as your legs awkwardly walk along the course for your turn. Settling right in the middle between the two men as they eye your every step.

“Were you being serious? You and Jun?” Your thumbs twiddle around the stick of the club, beginning to feel furiously hot as heat rises throughout your body, your teeth chewing on your lips as you meet eyes with the brunette with what you can’t explain as expectancy or reassurance. But it’s simultaneous, how they laugh in unison, large hands patting gently on your ass to usher you forward. Going as far as to help you maneuver yourself into position as Jun moulds himself as close as possible to you. Skin to skin, his knee slotted against the back of yours, back pressed to chest, and he promises he’s trying so so hard not to press up fully against you. It just so happens that in some cases he really does need to be ‘that close’ in proximity to you to help arrange your posture, even if it means his crotch accidentally brushes against the fabric of your shorts every now and then. “I’m hurt sweetheart, you spent so much time studying that you managed to forget the kind of people Tyun and I are.”

A sulk plays across his face, but nothing about him gives you an answer. Leaving you as confused and dazed as you were prior, eventually until it was your time to swing the club again.

You lean over slightly, trying to observe the ball a little more clearly when your loose backless top begins to rise up your back slowly, revealing the small patch of skin just above the top of your denim shorts. Far too short as they ride up the back of your thighs, tracing out the curve of your ass where the white waistband appears all-too-familiar for the two of them not to make note. Definitely not with the black block-lettering making it stand out entirely for what it was.

“I thought you said she was wearing purple—”

“Y-yeah she was but— aren’t those my pair?”

Less than two seconds in to you finally leaning straight again and getting ready to swing, there’s an interception to the grip on your club as your head flicks from side-to-side harsh enough to inflict whiplash. Confused as you lock eyes with both of them one after the other, ready to rest your hand on your hips and complain about them ruining your concentration completely. “Was just about swing tyunnie, what’s the matter now?—”

“Drop the club and let Jun handle it. We’re heading back to the car.”

Thinking about it now, you would’ve been able to have squeezed yourself an extra fifteen minutes on the golf course if you had gotten the big deal of wearing Yeonjun’s underwear over and sorted to begin with. Because your current predicament leaves you sandwiched between the two men, head spinning as they back you into the mattress, your fall cushioned by Taehyun’s chest as he lands underneath you. Rushing to readjust himself as he plots gentle kisses along your ear, contradicted by the sudden urge that troubles through him to nip at your skin. Lapping at the sensitive patch just below your jaw, suckling and tugging roughly onto the skin as he guides your chin with two fingers, making sure you’re facing Yeonjun directly as he climbs over the both of you. Shirt in hand and tossed elsewhere onto the floor of his room, shorts sagging down his hips to just about reveal the base of his cock as he palms himself through his shorts. Groans amplified by Taehyun’s grunts as the weight of your hips pressing against his bulge causes him to toss his head back into the array of pillows, with his canines on full display as he grinds his hips back into you.

“God, baby what were you thinking?” Yeonjun prowls his fingers through the valley of your thighs, prying them apart slowly as he drags a thumb down the slit of your folds through his boxers. Gawking at the way the wet patch on the fabric coats his fingers in your slick completely, thick enough to transfer right through as he presses harshly against your clit to grind sharp circles against the bud. “Fuck— take a look at that.”

He brings his fingers up to the brunette to see for himself, rotating his thumb at all angles so that your slick could catch the light, and it’s almost on cue that Taehyun’s cock twitches in his pants. The slight movement shoots right through to your core as you whine, digging your hips further back into him for the friction slotting the prominent tip of his cock between your ass.

“C-couldn’t find anything else I— ohmygod—” Your toes curl on instinct as Taehyun hooks your panties to the side, voice all whiny and desperate as the cold air against your folds causes you to pulse, eyes brimming shut when Taehyun’s middle drags a long slick-coated stripe along your folds.

“Are you really that dense angel? Can’t figure out that it’s Jjunie and I who’ve been putting them to good use?” You shudder as his breath fans against your ear, shaking your head no gently whenever you struggled to form words past your whimpers, particularly now as the ash blonde works his way up your stomach. Peppering kisses along your belly and stopping just under where your bra cups your tits together. “Still have a photo of when I came twice all over the blue cotton pair I stole princess, you’ll let me make it up to you, no?”

Yeonjun leans in closer to hush right against your ear, whispers kissing through his clenched teeth as he rocks his hips against your clothed cunt, bumping bulges with Taehyun’s who’s pressed just beneath you. “Bet you put my boxers on knowing I came in them just thinking about how warm you’d feel around my cock, just like a good slut hm?”

“— Still’d be able to see the cum stains on the inside if you looked hard enough sweetheart.” Taehyun laughs at the way you try to check for any stains for yourself, struggling to get a clear view of the fabric at all when your roommate yanks the white pair from your fingertips. Pulling down the tight fabric in a jagged motion past your ankles and discarding it elsewhere for him to steal back again later. “What do you think angel? Think you can take us both at once? Bet Tyunnie’s stretched you out plenty already.”

Every word that falls from their lips is dirty, sinful, clouded by nothing but lust. But when the familiarity of Taehyun’s cock is pressed up against you and Jun’s hands are already on their cycle of working towards your clit, you can only crave for more.

Eyes glossy with need as you chew on your lip, batting your lashes straight up at Yeonjun, which sends blood rushing to his cock at light speed. And your mewls are practically all that he needs to hear to climax at this point, all those soft “please”s and quiet “need you”s that have him so weak in the knees it’s humiliating. Even more so how he practically moans when you give him the green light, “Want both of you a-at once please— need to feel both of you in me.”

There isn’t a hum or the chuckle that usually follows after. Just straight savagery as Yeonjun tears through the clasp of your bra, occupying himself with tracing small shapes against your perked nipples; flicking his tongue against the sensitive buds without mercy. He presses a smile against the tender flesh whenever you whine at the sharp sting of his teeth nipping against your nipples, proud of himself whenever your back heaves up to thrust your chest closer into his face while Taehyun softly coos in your ear.

Promising you that you can take them both at once, gently prepping you with his cock on its own first instead of the usual fingers, groaning loudly when your cunt practically swallows his tip entirely without an issue from how you’re dripping with arousal. “Holy shit angel, taking me so well— you’re not whoring yourself out to Yeonjun behind my back are you?”

“N-no! Mnngh—” Your body tenses as you feel the stretch start to settle in through your walls, clamping down around Taehyun’s cock so tight you could make out every ridge in the skin and every prominent vein you could remember. Hands curling into tight fists as he readjusts himself inside of you, fat tip nudging and prodding against the lining of your walls causing you to wail out in bliss. “T-Tyunn!— ‘s too much!”

“You’ll be fine sweetheart. Always taking cock so greedily like a good slut, when are you ever satisfied?” Yeonjun’s laughing lightheartedly, leaning further back to latch his mouth against your entrance, just above where Taehyun’s still nestling himself into you, completely stationary as he waits for the male to flick his tongue against your clit again. Watch as you writhe under his touch, whining obscenely loud whenever his hot breath tickles your folds, wanting to prove you weren’t as dirty as they claim you are— even if the virginity excuse expired months ago.

Yeonjun’s tongue lies flat against your clit before swirling around the nub to suck against the soft muscle, nose buried between your legs that desperately tries to disobey him by closing in. The pleasure surging and crashing through you in waves too strong for you to handle when your yelp rings through both of their ears.

“Mnghh-ah! T’hyun w-wait Yeonjun’s still—” Your face scrunches up in pleasure-filled pain as Taehyun drills his hips into you out of nowhere, picking up his speed without having to accelerate at all to begin with, entirely focused on dragging his thick cock through your cunt. He’s so mean when you plead him to slow down, muttering curses under his breath as his grip around your hips tightens. Nails digging crescents into your skin, thrusting you down back onto his cock so that his balls would jeer you whenever you’d cry out loud for his length once he bottomed out completely. On top of his cock throbbing to stretch your gummy walls out further whenever the ash blonde’s tongue would meet his length simultaneously at your stuffed hole. Clenched desperately as your brain scrambles to find the words for Yeonjun.

“Use your words angel, tell Jjunie how badly you want him to tear your hole fffuck—” Taehyun presses another kiss to your shoulder, eyes zeroed in on the way your thighs bounce off of his whenever his thrusts grow too harsh. It’s impossible for his head not to fill up with all sorts of dirty thoughts he can only take out his pent-up stress on through wrapping his hand around your neck. Slithering his fingers across the soft skin before clasping around it like a vice, cock twitching from within when he notices the way you clench down on him instantly. The weakest of mewls managing to barely gasp through his light choking. “Come on baby, you can make it up to us. You left me fucking my fist raw for that whole month, you can use your words.”

“J-Jun kegh— fuck n-need you inside me please—” Taehyun strengthens his grip on your throat once more as your roommate looks up expectantly from his position between your thighs, tutting disappointedly at you for slipping over your words. “That’s not what we agreed the last time we got a taste of you, angel. I think you said a lot more dirty things than just that.”

Your lip quivers in embarrassment as you feel tears prick through your tearducts, partially due to the stretch of Taehyun’s cock and your sensitive clit that Yeonjun’s been feeding on, and partially from the humiliation starting to seep into your head. Thoughtless and fucked out of your mind when each of Taehyun’s strokes grows harder with the growing second, mind numb as you try to appease Yeonjun once more. “Need you to ngh—! Fuck my pussy ‘til I c-can’t think J-jjunie!”

Right at your beck and call, he’s immediately trying to squeeze himself in through any gap he can find, hissing when his tip slips right past your entrance as he jerks his rock-hard cock with white knuckles. It’s only after the third attempt that he finally slots himself halfway, the stretch impeccable as you grudge yourself to stay still in fear that you may rip, struggling to breathe as Taehyun’s grip on your neck is removed only to grasp your breath once more by toying with your already exerted clit.

“N-no! Can’t cum yet Taehyun ‘s too much i-if mmph!” Your eyes roll back into their whites as your head flings back onto Taehyun’s shoulder. With whines growing increasingly loud commingled with Taehyun’s grunts and Yeonjun’s own growls from the sensitivity of their cockheads rubbing against each other, fighting to prod at the soft spongy spot that releases fat, salty tears out of your eyes all at once.

“Goddd, you feel so fucking good. Crying so prettily for us, little angel doesn’t even know how much I’ve jerked off to her crying face.” Your roommate laughs almost too sadistically, unaware of just how full your womb feels with both of them at once, pummeling into you without mercy until your vision blurs with tears— just about blurry enough to be unable to study Yeonjun’s expression.

“’m so close angel shitshitshit, you’re gonna let us cum inside aren’t you? I got the hole in one as I said.” Taehyun’s eyes grow heavy-lidded as he sinks his head back into the pillows, lips parting open in an unrestrained moan as he feels himself nearing his climax, watching as Yeonjun struggles to keep ahold of himself too as he steadily reaches his own peak. Plump lips dripping with drool as he observes the way your cunt stretches obscenely to accommodate to their size, and then drawing his attention your meek nod and the tiniest yes that barely slips through your string of whimpers.

Within seconds, your orgasm comes crashing down. Spiking throughout your entire body as your legs shake through the pleasure, pussy fluttering around both of them encased within you as they follow shortly after. Spurting hot ropes of cum in varying viscosities, struggling to stuff your cunt full with all their cum while their dicks are still plugged inside of you. And for one thing, Yeonjun moans loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear when he watches both mixtures of cum drip around their cocks, forming foamy white rings that compliment the pretty heave of your chest extra well.

Almost too well, considering that by the time Taehyun’s reorganised his thoughts and Yeonjun’s no longer panting like a dog ready to lap away and thrust the cum back inside your stuffed and used hole, both of them part their lips as if they had words left unspoken. Close their mouths. And then reopen them once more as Yeonjun grabs hold of your thighs without any intentions of letting go.

“Think she’s loosened up from all that studying yet?”

“She’s got a month to make it up to us, remember? Pretty sure I made her cum harder anyway.”

perma tag: @gyutaepie @ruinxas @gyuuchuuu @chocomoas @satan-223 @whoisgami @glitteryheartbanana @bambiihee @asteroidshowers @camryn-haitani @prkhaven @yvampyr @filmnings @bloomri @lwhyuka @angelhyuka @forwinterstars @yjnwonstars @black-startxt @iheartyaemiko @hyunj00 @fancypeacepersona @page-isa @hwangjoanna @star0323 @nanilis @lorislane @basicallyanothernotebook @soohashits @missdel @swangyu @petulapetula @twinklingsparkling @dainsleif-when-playable @toastmenace @izzyy-stuff @hoonstqr @wonf1lmd @namimommii @swangyu @mintchocoddeonut @beomgyusluver @kookieterry @taehyunsloves

────୨ৎ────

the pre-flight briefing room at incheon smells like burnt coffee and industrial carpet that hasn't been replaced since the early 2000s. you're adjusting your scarf in the reflection of your phone screen when minseo drops into the seat next to yours, already bolting with the energy of someone who's been gossiping in the crew lounge for twenty minutes straight.

"new captain on the flight deck," she says, like she's announcing a zombie apocalypse. "and y/n, i need you to mentally prepare yourself."

"for what?" you don't look up from your phone. "another divorced fifty-year-old who calls me 'sweetheart' while i pour his coffee and pretends i don't have a nametag?"

"better." minseo leans in close. "young. korean transfer from cargo division. apparently he has more flight hours than some of the senior captains, and he looks like he just stepped out of a drama casting call. the kind where he's the mysterious lead who has a tragic backstory about his first love dying in a plane crash or something. you know?"

you finally look up from your phone. "how young?"

"twenties. twenty-five, i heard." she pauses for dramatic effect, her eyes wide and serious. "and he has dimples.”

"focus," you mutter. you've been a flight attendant for three years. you've learned not to get distracted by pilots. they're either married, insufferable, or both. sometimes all three, somehow.

the briefing room door opens.

you've seen plenty of captains walk through that door. they usually look like variations of the same expression: exhausted, entitled, or desperately clinging to authority they don't actually have. they carry flight bags with pictures of children taped inside. they have coffee stains on their ties. they look at you like you're part of the furniture.

choi beomgyu looks like he was born to wear the uniform.

he's tall—taller than most of the cockpit crew you deal with and the navy blue pilot's jacket fits across his shoulders perfectly. he moves like he knows exactly where his body is in space at all times, like every gesture is calculated for true efficiency.

"good morning," he says. his voice is deeper than you expected, smooth with a slight rasp. "i'm captain choi. first day officially in the left seat, so i appreciate you all being patient with me while i figure out where they hide the good coffee and which of you won't judge me for drinking three cups before takeoff."

there's a ripple of laughter. you don't join in. you're too busy watching the way his hands move as he reviews the weather charts—long fingers, precise gestures, a pilot's watch heavy on his left wrist. his nails are short, clean, professional. you wonder what they'd feel like against your skin, and then immediately hate yourself for wondering.

"tokyo today," he continues, looking up. his gaze moves across the room and stops when it hits you. you feel it like a touch, like someone's actually reached out and pressed a thumb against your sternum. "fourteen hours roundtrip, but we're overnighting due to weather. narita. let's try not to kill each other, and if anyone knows a good ramen place, i’ll buy."

he holds your eyes for one second too long. then two. then three, and you realize you're holding your breath.

you look down at your notepad, heart hammering against your ribs, and pretend you didn't just get completely checked out by your new captain in front of your entire crew.

────୨ৎ────

the first four hours of the flight are mechanical. you do your rounds—meals, drinks, the businessman in 14c who keeps asking for whiskey he doesn't need, the mother in 23a traveling with a toddler who won't stop screaming. you avoid the flight deck on purpose, sending minseo up with the pilots' meals instead, telling yourself it's not avoidance, it's professionalism.

you're lying.

at hour six, turbulence hits over the east china sea. the seatbelt sign dings on with a sharp chime, and you're securing the galley when the cockpit door opens.

"need you for a second," beomgyu says. he's shed his jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and you can see the veins in his forearms, the lean muscle there. his shirt is slightly untucked on one side, and it's so human, so normal, that it makes your chest tight. "co-pilot's taking a break. i could use the company."

"it's policy that—"

"i know the policy." he doesn't smile, but his eyes do, crinkling at the corners in a way that makes your stomach flip. "two crew members in the flight deck during single-pilot operation. that's why i'm asking you, and not your colleague."

"minseo's available," you say, even as your feet are already moving toward him.

"minseo talks too much," he says. "i want someone who knows when to be quiet."

"rude."

"accurate." he steps back to let you pass, and you have to squeeze through the narrow doorway, close enough to smell him—something clean, sandalwood and soap and the faint metallic scent of the aircraft. your shoulder brushes his as you settle into the jump seat behind him, and you feel him go still for just a fraction of a second, his breath catching almost imperceptibly.

"you're nervous," he says, not looking at you. his hands move over the controls with practiced ease, adjusting for the turbulence.

"of what?"

"me." he turns his head, and those dark eyes find yours in the reflection of the glass. the sky outside is endless blue, cloudless, stretching forever. "you've been avoiding the flight deck all flight, y/n. i noticed."

your name in his mouth sounds like a secret. you didn't tell him your name. you didn't wear your nametag in the briefing.

"i read the manifest," he says, like he can hear your thoughts. his voice is soft, intimate, completely inappropriate for a cockpit. "i like knowing who i'm flying with. especially when they've been looking at me like they want to know more."

"professional courtesy," you manage, but your voice cracks.

"is that what we're calling it?" he adjusts something on the panel, and the aircraft banks slightly, tilting toward the sun. the light catches his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his nose, the curve of his mouth. "you were looking at me in the briefing. before i saw you. i felt it."

the turbulence bumps the aircraft, a rough jolt that makes the seatbelt dig into your hips. beomgyu doesn't flinch. his hands stay steady on the controls, and you realize with a dizzying clarity that you're attracted to his competence as much as his face. there's something devastating about watching someone be good at their job, especially when their job is keeping hundreds of people alive at forty thousand feet.

"i don't—" you start.

"you're going to tell me it's inappropriate," he cuts in. "that i'm your captain. that there are rules. that this is my first day and you're supposed to be professional and i'm supposed to be setting an example."

"aren't there rules?" you ask, but your voice is barely above a whisper.

"plenty." he finally turns to face you fully, and the cockpit feels smaller still, like the walls are closing in, like the air is getting thinner. "but we're at forty thousand feet. somewhere over international waters. and i'm tired of pretending i didn't notice you the second i walked into that room. i'm tired of pretending i haven't been thinking about what your mouth tastes like for the past six hours."

your mouth goes dry. "this is—"

"a bad idea?" he laughs, low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "obviously. i'm not stupid, y/n. i also don't care. not right now. not with you sitting there looking at me like that."

the radio crackles. air traffic control, distant and staticky, asking for an altitude confirmation. beomgyu answers with practiced ease, his voice shifting into professional mode so smoothly it gives you whiplash. when he finishes, he reaches back—not touching you, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, hovering over your knee.

"thirty minutes," he says softly. "until my co-pilot comes back. thirty minutes where it's just us, and this conversation never happened if you don't want it to."

"and if i do want it to?"

his eyes darken, his pupils blown wide. "then maybe you stay a little longer. maybe we find out what happens when the seatbelt sign goes off."

────୨ৎ────

you don't stay. you can't. the co-pilot comes back, some senior guy named lee who gives you a nod as you squeeze past beomgyu… closer than necessary, his hand brushing your lower back to steady you as the turbulence hits again, his fingers pressing into your spine with a familiarity that makes you dizzy.

"see you on the descent," beomgyu says, like a promise, that sounds like a threat.

you spend the next six hours in a haze. minseo keeps giving you looks, like she knows something happened, but you shake your head and focus on your work: dinner service, the drunk guy in 22f, the mother traveling alone with twins who looks like she might cry if you don't bring her another glass of wine. you walk the aisles on autopilot, smiling, but your mind is in the cockpit. on his hands. on the way he said your name.

when the seatbelt sign comes on for final descent into narita, you're already strapped into your jump seat in the back galley, counting down the minutes until you can escape to the hotel and take the longest shower of your life. cold water. very cold water. maybe ice even.

the aircraft touches down smooth as silk. professional. beomgyu is good at his job, you have to give him that. the landing is flawless, barely a bump as the wheels kiss the tarmac.

deplaning takes forever. you stand at the door, smiling, thanking passengers who don't look at you, watching the sunset paint the narita tarmac in shades of gold and pink. you're almost done, almost free, when the last passenger clears and you turn to find beomgyu standing in the galley doorway.

he changed. he's in dark jeans now, a black sweater that clings to his shoulders, his pilot's jacket slung over one arm casually. he looks like someone you could see in a bar and take home without knowing he's your boss.

"crew bus leaves in twenty," he says. "same hotel as you. i checked."

"of course you did."

"there's a bar. rooftop. i'm going to be there in an hour." he steps closer, close enough that you can see the way his hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck. "you don't have to come. but if you do, y/n, i'm not going to pretend this is just a drink. i'm not going to pretend i haven't been hard since you walked into that briefing room this morning."

"and if someone sees us?"

he smiles then, and minseo was right—the dimples are criminal, deep and sharp and unfair. "then i guess i'm done flying for korean air. worth it."

he walks away before you can answer, and you stand there with your heart beating loudly, knowing you're going to show up.

────୨ৎ────

the hotel is one of the standard crew accommodations—clean, impersonal, twenty floors of airline staff rotating through on different routes. your room is on twelve. you shower, you change into the only nice thing you packed, which is a black dress that hits mid-thigh, simple but effective, with a neckline that dips lower than your uniform allows. you tell yourself you're going to the bar because you're hungry, because you want to see the view, because you're an adult who can have a drink with a colleague.

you're lying.

the rooftop bar is half-empty, the tokyo skyline glittering like a jewel box in the distance. you spot him immediately—he's at a corner table, two drinks already in front of him, and when he sees you. something in his expression shifts from anticipation to hunger so fast it steals your breath. he stands, and you see he's rolled his sleeves up again, showing those forearms, and of course, you want to bite them.

"you came," he says when you reach the table.

"i was thirsty."

"liar." but he's smiling. he gestures to the seat across from him, and you slide in, accepting the glass he pushes toward you. "how was your first flight with me, y/n?"

"professional."

"and now?"

you take a long sip, letting the alcohol burn before you answer. "less so."

"good." he leans forward, elbows on the table, and the distance between you feels like nothing. "i've been thinking about you all day. in the cockpit. during approach. when i was supposed to be checking weather reports. when i was supposed to be sleeping in the crew rest area. i couldn't sleep. i kept thinking about your mouth."

"that's dangerous," you say, but your voice is breathless.

"you're dangerous." he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours where they rest on your glass. "i don't do this… i don't risk my career for—"

"for what?"

his jaw tightens, a muscle jumping there. "for something i can't stop thinking about. for someone i met six hours ago and already know i want to ruin myself for."

the city lights blur behind him. you should go. you know you should go. instead, you turn your hand over, letting your palm press against his, and watch his eyes go dark.

"your room or mine?" you ask.

he stands so fast his chair scrapes against the floor, loud enough to draw attention from the other tables. he doesn't care. "mine. now. before i change my mind or come to my senses."

────୨ৎ────

the elevator ride is torture. he's standing close enough that you can feel the heat of him. when the doors close on the twelfth floor, he doesn't hit the button for his own.

"beomgyu—"

he turns, and then his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding, and you gasp against his lips as he backs you into the corner of the elevator. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel how hard he is already, the length of him pressing against your hip, insistent and thick.

"couldn't wait," he mutters against your jaw, trailing kisses down your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "fuck, y/n, i've been hard since. since i saw your legs in that uniform. since i heard your voice."

the elevator dings. he pulls back, breathing hard, his hair messy from where your fingers tangled in it. "my floor," he says, and his voice is rough. "unless you've changed your mind."

you step out first.

his room is identical to yours. he closes the door and locks it, and then you're in his arms again, his mouth finding yours with a desperation that makes your knees weak.

"wait," you breathe, pulling back just enough to see his face. "you're sure about this?"

"i don't care." he cups your face, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones with a tenderness that contradicts the hunger in his eyes. "tell me to stop and i will. but if you don't—" he presses his forehead to yours. "if you don't, i'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. until the only thing you know is mine. until you feel me inside you every time you walk down the aisle tomorrow."

"beomgyu—"

"say it again."

"beomgyu." you reach for his sweater, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the lean muscle underneath. "i want you inside me… now. please."

he groans, and then he's lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bed. he lays you down like you're something precious, and then he's kissing you again—deep, filthy kisses that make you arch against him, desperate for more, for everything.

his hands move to your dress, sliding up your thighs, and you lift your hips to help him as he pulls it up and over your head. he pauses, looking down at you in your bra and underwear, and the way his breath catches makes you feel beautiful, makes you feel seen.

"fuck," he whispers, reverent. "look at you."

"you too," you manage, reaching for his belt. "i want to see you."

he lets you undo the buckle, the button, and the zipper. you push his jeans down, and he kicks them off, and then he's in nothing but black boxers. the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, and your mouth waters at the sight, at the thought of taking him, tasting him completely.

"later," he promises, reading your expression. "i'll let you taste me later. but right now—" he kneels between your legs, spreading you open, and hooks his fingers in your underwear. "right now i need to feel you. i need to know if you're as wet as i've been imagining. if you taste as good as you look."

he drags your underwear down your legs, slow, torturous, and then he's looking at you. his gaze fixed between your thighs with an intensity that makes you want to close your legs and hide but to be seen all at once as well.

"don't," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your inner knee. "let me see you. let me—"

he leans down, and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet and so fucking good you cry out, your back arching off the bed. he licks into you like he's been starving, like this is all he's wanted since the moment he saw you, and his tongue finds your clit with precision, circling and flicking and sucking until you're panting. your fingers tangled in the sheets.

"beomgyu—" you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him there, and he hums against you, the vibration making you gasp. "fuck, don't stop, please—"

he doesn't. he works you with his mouth and his fingers. one sliding inside you, curling to find that spot that makes you see stars, then two, stretching you open while his tongue circles your clit with relentless and perfect pressure. you're panting, the pleasure building so fast it's almost frightening.

"i'm going to—i'm close—"

"come for me," he murmurs against you. "let me taste you, y/n. let me feel you fall apart. i've been dreaming about this."

you break. the orgasm crashes through unexpectedly and violent, and you cry out his name as your hips buck against his mouth. he doesn't stop until you're trembling, oversensitive, pushing at his shoulders. only then does he pull back, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

"beautiful," he says, climbing up your body to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, and it sends a jolt of arousal through you.

"need you," you whisper against his mouth. "please, beomgyu. i need you inside me."

he reaches for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a condom with shaking hands. you watch him roll it on—his cock thick and hard, flushed dark, and your mouth waters at the sight, at the thought of taking him. he guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your folds, and you moan at the contact, at the stretch as he begins to push inside.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "you're so tight. so fucking perfect and wet for me."

he sinks in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the fullness. by the time he's fully in, you're panting, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"move," you beg. "please, beomgyu, move—"

he pulls back and thrusts in, hard, and you cry out at the sensation. he sets a rhythm, deep and steady, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision spark with light.

"look at me," he demands, his hand cupping your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. "stay with me, y/n. i want to see you. i want to watch you come apart on my cock."

you hold his gaze, and it's intimate. too intimate. the connection between you sparking as he fucks you with urgency, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of sex filling the room.

"you're so good," he pants, his voice breaking. "so perfect, taking me so well. i've wanted this since the moment i saw you. wanted to know what you'd feel like wrapped around me."

"beomgyu—"

"say my name again. let me hear it."

"beomgyu!" you arch against him as he hits that spot again. "beomgyu, i'm going to—"

"come with me," he begs, his thrusts losing their rhythm, becoming desperate and chasing his own release. "please, y/n, i need to feel you."

you shatter. the orgasm is deeper this time. you clench around him, and he groans, a broken sound, and then he's coming too—thrusting deep and holding there, pulsing inside you as he buries his face in your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

for a long moment, neither of you move. the only sound is your breathing, ragged and synchronizing slowly. he presses kisses to your shoulder, and to your collarbone softly.

"stay," he whispers against your skin. "don't go back to your room. stay here."

you should. you know you should. this is already too much.

"okay," you hear yourself say.

he pulls out carefully, dealing with the condom before crawling back into bed and pulling you against his chest.

"this doesn't mean anything," you say quietly, even though you don't believe it.

he tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes. "liar," he says again, but he's smiling. "get some sleep, y/n. we have a return flight tomorrow.

he kisses your forehead and the tip of your nose. you fall asleep with his arms around you, knowing that tomorrow you'll have to face him across the galley, pretending this never happened.

knowing, too, that you'll be back in his bed the moment you land in seoul.

────୨ৎ────

and all of this, of course, is completely and absolutely:

not true.

it's exactly what you seem to think in that pretty little head of yours, though, as taehyun often observes; it's quite cute actually, he thinks.

"out of all the guys i could like, why does it have to be the one guy in my life who would draft me onto his football team if he had one?" he'd overheard you complaining to yeonjun one day.

(sorry, but trust me, sweetheart - you wouldn't even make it past tryouts, he'd thought afterwards upon fighting back a laugh and an endeared little grin.)

oh, if only you knew.

if only you knew the steady breaths he has to take whenever you stand so temptingly close to him; or how many filthy images he has to shake out of his mind when he's helping you with your workouts; or that annoying little shadow called jealousy that he has to push down when you smile so sweetly at a man that isn't him.

taehyun is a man of self control, and a man who would do anything for the people that he loves — which means that no matter how much he'd enjoy changing your mind about what exactly you assume he perceives you as, he knows for the sake of your friendship that he can't.

and so he doesn't.

but oh, you wish that he would.

taehyun is quite good at keeping his feelings in check, to the point where you're convinced at this point that if you were to strut naked across the room in front of him, he wouldn't even pay you any mind;

pft, you scoff at your own silly thought, as if something so ridiculous would ever happen. (…well....)

today you've decided that you're getting real tired of your own pining and yearning and eyes that shoot hearts like confetti every time your best friend walks into the room —

you pout at the sight of yourself reflected on the open camera screen of your phone as the self-timer counts down yet again. this has become quite the routine of yours.

body bare save for the lacy lingerie that doesn’t cover much of anything as you perch at the edge of your bed, posing so prettily, so sensually, just the way you imagine taehyun would like; just more photos to add to the naughty little album in your camera roll that you wish you could send to him but know that you never will.

there was a time where you used to try testing the waters a bit, some flirting here, a fleeting touch or two there. but you'd quickly learned how pointless it was. after all, a brick wall is never gonna flirt back.

you sigh. it's time to get going anyway; speak of the devil, he'll be here to pick you up in 20 minutes.

~

taehyun can see in his peripheral the way you keep glancing at him from the passenger seat of his car.

as usual, he maintains an even expression. "excited to see me or something?"

his lips quirk as you jump in your seat a little, quickly looking forwards and crossing your arms as you grumble, "you wish. i just saw you like two days ago."

he merely hums in acknowledgment, which gets you even more grumbly — ("no fair that i can never get a reaction out of you! why is it always me?!" you'd wailed in defeat one time after a failed attempt to get him back, your cheeks flushed pink and pretty).

taehyun smiles.

when he soon pulls up outside your friend's apartment building that you’d needed to drop something off at first on the way to yeonjun’s, he decides to be nice as he asks,

"where was that new cat café you wanted to go to? we can stop there before meeting the guys."

bingo. the smile that lights up your face is exactly what he was looking for as your previous pout melts away and you gasp, "really?! okay wait, i took a screenshot of their instagram page the other day, you can check and put the address in! i'll be super super quick!"

he bites back a laugh as you shove your phone into his hands and excitedly rush out of the car.

"5 minutes tops or i'm going without you!" he calls out the window, to which you shriek and scurry away even faster.

he grins to himself, shaking his head as you disappear into the building and he turns to click open your camera roll.

"alright, cat café, where are............ you."

taehyun feels as if a lightning rod has just shot straight through his entire body.

his muscles tense. all his breath escapes him in a rush.

you...

the sight of you is what greets him through the screen...

you,

completely naked.

it's like his skin is consumed by fire as his eyes roam across the rows of pictures in the album you'd left open; most taken on your bed, some in the shower at the gym that you both go to together, some where you’re donned in sets of delicious lingerie — his eyes widening and pants tightening when he even spots one from his own room, your skirt hiked up in the reflection of his full-length mirror as your panties dangle cheekily from one finger, leaving the delicious curve of your ass on full display.

when did she even take that??

he scrolls, and he's barely hanging on by a thread as his best friend who's supposed to stay his best friend poses so irresistibly pretty from the screen; his cock is so hard that it's painful as your big innocent eyes look up at him in complete contrast to the lewd position that you'd put yourself in.

god, the positions he wants to put you in...

alright, reel it in, kang taehyun. this can't go anywhere. you have to take it to the grave. you’ve gotta think about the friendship. you’ll just pretend you didn't see it. you’ll act aloof like you always do.

but every single ounce of self control that taehyun has spent so long holding together finally crashes down around him like a breaking dam when his gaze lands on the name of the album at the top of the screen.

— t ♡

his cock jumps.

fucking hell, these are for me.

when you skip your way back to the car minutes later, you don't notice at first how firmly he's gripping the steering wheel or the fact that he isn’t even looking at you, remaining staring straight ahead as you climb back into the passenger side.

you don't notice — that is, until your phone catches your eye, set neatly on the middle console with your worst nightmare staring right back up at you from the screen.

it feels as though a bucket of ice water has crash landed down on your head (both the water and the bucket) as you realize what happened.

but you barely even have the time to panic or react or beg for mercy, or perhaps for a lobotomy on you both, before taehyun is asking you:

"back seat or my place?"

his voice is so calm that you almost don't process his words. your thoughts buffer as you pause.

"wh... what?" you breathe.

that's when he finally turns his head to look at you, and the intensity of the hunger swimming in his stare is enough to leave you even more winded than you already were before as a familiar feeling stirs between your legs and your thighs clamp together of their own accord.

"back seat," he repeats slowly, "or my place?"

you swallow hard.

this.. t-this is... he means.…

your head is reeling, and dumbly you stammer back, "w-what about the guys..?" as if the plans with your friends really matter anymore in a moment like this.

fuck the guys. fuck the cat café. taehyun has already decided: he’s done holding back from what he wants, and what he wants is to make you his.

you blink at him wide-eyed as he leans towards you slightly in his seat, his voice low and assertive as he replies,

"we're not going."

he taps your phone as if to draw your attention back to it. as if it should be obvious.

"so, you choose." your eyes fly back up to his —

"where do you want me to fuck you?"

your lower belly explodes with heat as an electric shiver rolls down your spine, and you swear that this is the best day of your entire fucking life as you see the promise that flickers in his eyes.

maybe you won't be finding yourself on the football team after all.

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

not like the last few months. not like the midnight calls, the flirtation and sexting that kept escalating until it stopped being flirting and started being… language you should not be allowed to speak if you’re this inexperienced.

because you lied to soobin.

you lied about your body count. you lied about what you’ve done. you lied about what you can do—like confidence is something you can type into existence and then become later.

and now later has arrived.

now soobin will be back in the same country as you, and suddenly all those filthy little messages don’t feel like jokes anymore. they feel like expectations. like a script you wrote for yourself and can’t remember the lines to.

you try to practise in your mirror. you try to research. you try to breathe. you keep coming back to the same thought, spiralling tighter every time—what happens when he kisses me and i don’t know how to kiss him back?

your friends know the truth. they’ve always known. they’re also enjoying your suffering like it’s a netflix series with weekly episodes. beomgyu especially. beomgyu is thriving. beomgyu will die happy if you die embarrassed.

you go to a party because they drag you there, and you last long enough to laugh like you’re fine. then you step outside for air. and you see him.

choi yeonjun—campus rumour, cigarette between his fingers, laughing like he’s never once had to second-guess himself. like confidence comes naturally. like it doesn’t take effort. like it isn’t an act.

people say he’s done everything. people say he’s been with everyone. people say it like it’s fact.

you don’t know him. you don’t even like him. you just look at him and think, with the most humiliating clarity—he would know what to do.

and that’s how your plan begins.

yeonjun notices you on the second day.

not because you’re subtle—because you’re not. but because you’re staring at him like you’re trying to memorise his face for a test. because you keep appearing in places you have no reason to be.

lecture hall. cafeteria. outside while he smokes. near the men’s bathroom—

he’s not stupid. he’s also not flattered. at first.

then it keeps happening, and something shifts from annoyance to curiosity to the slow, crawling suspicion that you might actually be insane.

his friends would laugh if they knew. they’d say, oi, playboy, you’ve got a stalker. they’d say it like he’s supposed to enjoy it.

they don’t know what it’s like to have a reputation that walks ahead of you into every room. they don’t know what it’s like to be treated like a rumour instead of a person. they don’t know what it’s like to have girls look at you like you’re experienced, effortless, easy—like you’ve already done everything.

yeonjun lets them believe it, because correcting people is exhausting. because it’s easier to act like you belong in the story they’ve written for you than admit you don’t know how to play the role.

and you—who keep staring at him like he’s an answer—are starting to make him nervous in a way that feels stupid.

so by the fifth day, he decides he’s done. 

he catches you half-hidden behind a lamppost like it’s doing anything. walks right up. tilts his head. “are you,” he says, slow and flat, “following me?”

you blink at him. innocent. sweaty. guilty. “what? no.”

he waits. the silence stretches.

you crack, messy and breathless, words tripping over each other until the truth spills out in the most ridiculous shape—you’ve got a date. you’ve said things you can’t back up. you’ve lied your way into expectations you can’t meet.

and you want him to help you.

yeonjun stares at you for a long second. because this is insane. because you’re looking at him like he’s confident enough to save you. because the worst part is—

—he says yes before he can stop himself.

“fine,” he hears himself say. like it’s casual. like it’s nothing. like he isn’t about to ruin his life. then he adds, too quickly, “but you can’t tell anyone.”

you nod so fast you nearly snap your neck.

you agree to rules. boundaries. three lessons. no feelings. no strings. no emotions.

and yeonjun smiles like he’s got this. like he’s done this a hundred times. like he isn’t going to go home and search how to kiss someone with shaking hands. like he isn’t thinking, with absolute terror—what the hell have i just agreed to?

✧ next | series masterlist | main masterlist

a/n: hii my loves! i contemplated a lot whether to post this or not but this has been circling my head for days and i couldn't stop thinking about it and i have already mapped out the entire storyline and i can't stop writing it!! its also a new genre i'm exploring and definitely walking into territory i am not too familiar with but i love love yeonjun and his new album and i just need to get this story off my chest. my other fics will continue as normal and this is most likely to be posted as soon as i finish terms & conditions and unfortunately yours!! so no worries that it will affect my current works. much love all and cannot wait to share the first chapter with you <3

You slammed the apartment door a little harder than you meant to, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. Shoes kicked off, purse discarded, you didn’t bother with the usual routine. No makeup removal, no changing into pajamas, no mulling over texts. Just headed straight to Beomgyu’s room.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re angry, because you’re sad, or maybe because you’re feeling both at once, but you just don’t bother knocking anymore. You open the door and go straight for his bed, plopping yourself down dramatically, face-first into the pillow, letting out a sigh that sounded like it had been steeped in every bad date you’d ever had.

He doesn’t seem to mind your sudden presence; in fact, he doesn’t even acknowledge it. The click of buttons, the occasional shout from his game friends, and Beomgyu’s lazy laughter surrounded his room.

You stay there quietly, waiting for him to finish his game. This wasn't the first time he was going to hear about your dates that ended up really badly. 

You stared at his ceiling. It had a weird crack that looked like a lopsided cat. You didn’t know why you always noticed that. Maybe because this wasn’t the first time you’d ended up in his room after some kind of disaster.

After a few minutes, you hear him say his goodbyes before he takes his headphones off and finally acknowledges your presence.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go,” he said into his mic. “Emergency roommate depression. Yeah, again. Later.”

The click of his headset hitting the desk was immediately followed by the sound of him turning in his chair.

“So? How was the date?”

It’s a simple question, but you already know the answer, and so does he.

“Guess,” you mumble as you lay on your side and rest your head on one of your arms.

“I don’t even have to guess at this point.” he says, and even without looking at him, you can sense that he already knows the answer.

You sigh before sitting up and turning to face him.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you say as you fiddle with your fingers.“It’s always the same thing. I meet a guy, I like him, we agree to go on a date, I get all dressed up, and then…”

“…And then?” he asks as he leans back in his gaming chair.

“….He doesn’t show up. Or he’s just an asshole.” you finish before sighing once again.

“Asshole, huh?” he asks, and you don’t miss the hint of anger in his voice.“What did he do?”

“Oh, you know? The usual. Acted like a complete dick to me the whole night,” you say, and even though you don’t look at him, you could sense him clenching his jaw.

“Y/N, I've probably said this a hundred times by now, but you deserve better.” he says, but before he can continue, you cut him off.

“I know, I know. I just don’t understand why I keep getting these shitty dates,” you say with a sigh as you run a hand through your hair.

“Maybe it’s because you keep agreeing to go on dates with anyone who asks,” he suggests, and you can’t help but glare at him.“You should be more careful about who you go on a date with.”

“Gee, thanks for the tip.” you say sarcastically, and you could only hear him sigh.

You were still in that damn dress—the one your friend swore would make you look “irresistibly hot” even if it showed a little too much for a first date. At the time, you let her talk you into it. Now, after hours of forced small talk and red flags wrapped in cologne, you just felt exposed.

You lay sprawled across Beomgyu’s bed, on your stomach, elbows planted firmly into the mattress, chin resting in your hands as you recounted every painful second of your disaster date.

“And then—then—he told me he doesn’t believe in therapy. Like, what the hell does that even mean?”

You huffed dramatically, too wrapped up in your rant to notice the way Beomgyu's eyes had slowly drifted south. It wasn’t until the room went quiet and you glanced up that you caught him—not zoning out, but straight up staring.

His eyes lingered shamelessly on the way your dress dipped when you leaned forward. You were so caught up in your little rant that you didn’t even notice him staring at your tits until you stopped talking and looked at him. 

“Beomgyu,” you call as you sit up and face him once again.“Were you even listening?”

“I was.” he replied a beat too late, voice smooth but unconvincing.

You narrowed your eyes.“I’m pouring my heart out, and you’re just—ogling me?”

“I swear I was listening, I'm sorry.” he says as he stands up and begins walking towards you.“But hey, I could make you feel better, if you’d like.” 

You rolled your eyes.“You wish.”

But he kept walking toward you, deliberate and slow, and the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted, like he wasn’t just teasing anymore—sent your heart into overdrive.

“Beomgyu, what are you—” you began, but the words caught in your throat as he stopped right in front of you.

“Come on,” he said, voice low and inviting.“Let me help you forget that shitty excuse of a date.”

You stared at him, mouth parting slightly. For a second, your brain stopped functioning.

This was Beomgyu. Your roommate. Your friend. Your confidant.

And yet, something in the way he was looking at you now made you wonder if you’d been blind this entire time.

“Uh, Beomgyu,” You stepped back with a nervous laugh, your heart doing weird things in your chest.“...What the fuck?”

He just shrugged, casual as ever. “You didn’t say no.”

You gaped at him.“Are you seriously trying to seduce me right now?”

“What do you think?” he said, deadpan. And annoyingly enough, it was working—because even as you glared at him, your thoughts were already spiraling. You had never really let yourself think of him like that before, but now?

Now, it was like someone had turned the lights on.

Tall, confident, annoyingly attractive—and that smirk. God, that smirk could ruin you.

You hesitated, war with yourself clear in your eyes. And then, recklessly, you gave in. As stupid as it sounds, you let him do what he wants.

On one condition, though. He’s not allowed to penetrate you.

“Okay,” you say finally, voice quiet but sure. “But I'm not letting you put your dick inside me. Like, no actual sex, no penetration.”

Beomgyu blinked once, then let out a soft, amused laugh.“So I can do anything else… just not that?”

“Pretty much.” you said, trying not to sound as breathless as you felt.

He tilted his head, giving you a slow, delicious smile.

“Deal.”  

And then he leaned in, one hand reaching to cradle your jaw as his lips finally found yours—warm, deliberate, and nothing like you expected.

You close your eyes and kiss him back, letting out a small moan when you feel his tongue push its way inside your mouth. You kiss him back eagerly, matching his movements as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer to him, making you sit up on the edge of the bed, and you do willingly. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you.

He runs his hands up and down your sides before stopping at your breasts. He cups them and begins squeezing them gently, and you moan into the kiss. You feel him smile against your lips as he continues to play with your tits over your dress.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks at you as he continues to grope your tits.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispers before leaning down and pressing his lips against your neck.“I’ve always wanted to do this to you.”

You let out a breathy moan as you feel him plant kisses all over your neck.

“Always?” you ask breathlessly, and you feel him nod against your neck.

“I always thought you were attractive,” he says as he pulls away and looks at you.“I just didn't have the balls to tell you, and I regret that.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything before?” you ask, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

“I didn’t think you’d reciprocate,” he whispers before biting your neck, making you moan in pleasure.

“That feels good,” you whisper as you run a hand through his hair.“More, please.”

He obeys immediately and begins sucking on your neck as he continues to play with your breasts over your dress. You let out a moan as you hold onto him tightly.

You feel him push you until you’re lying on his bed once again, and he doesn’t waste any time pulling the straps of your dress down, revealing your bare chest to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he stares at your tits hungrily.“Your tits are so nice.”

He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand plays with the other one. You throw your head back in pleasure as you run a hand through his soft hair.

He continues to lavish attention on your tits, sucking, nibbling, and licking them, and you let out a moan each time his teeth graze over your nipple.

“Beomgyu!” you call out breathlessly as you pull him closer to your chest. 

He continues his assault on your tits as he grinds his erection against your leg, and you pull him even closer. You can feel his erection straining against his pants, and it makes you even wetter knowing that he’s hard for you.

“Please,” you moan as you grip his hair tightly.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks as he pulls away from sucking your tits to look at you.

“Please, Beomgyu,” you beg.“Take this off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you breathe out as you look at him pleadingly.“Please.”

“Okay,” he says before standing up and pulling you with him.

You stand in front of him as he undresses you. You look up at him as he slowly pulls the zipper of your dress down and pushes it down your body, letting it pool at your feet.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes out as he stares at you, eyes filled with need.“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers before pulling you into a kiss once again. You moan against his lips as he wraps his arms around your waist.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer to you as you kiss him eagerly. He runs his hands all over your body before stopping at your ass. He squeezes your ass cheeks, causing you to moan into the kiss. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks as he smirks against your lips.

“Mhm...” you hum, and he squeezes your ass once again, earning another moan from you.

He chuckles before pulling away completely. You look at him confused as he stands up in front of you, his hard cock straining against his pants.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you ask when you see him start to unbuckle his belt.

“Trust me,” he says as he pulls his belt out from his pants and throws it on the floor.“I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You nod, hesitant at first but choosing to trust his words, and he proceeds to pull his pants down before pulling his boxers down with them. His hard cock springs free, and your eyes widen at the size of it. You never expected him to be this big.

You look back at him, and he smirks once again as he grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed once more. He takes his cock in one hand and gives it a few pumps as he stares at you before aligning himself at your entrance.

“Can I do this at least?” he asks, and you nod your head almost frantically. The anticipation is driving you crazy.

He positions his hard length on top of the wet spot on your panties that he caused and begins rubbing himself against your clothed core. He groans as he feels your wetness, and you let out a small whimper as you feel him.

“You’re so wet, Y/N,” he groans as he picks up the pace.“Is this all for me?”

“Yes, I need you.” you moan as you spread your legs wider and tilt your hips up to meet him.

The friction feels too good, and you gasp as you tighten your grip on his arms.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out, and he smirks at you as he quickens his pace.“Yes, just like that...”

He continues to rub himself against you, and you spread your legs wider to allow him better access.

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss once again as he continues to grind his cock against you. You moan against his lips and pull him closer as you feel him grind his cock against your clit.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release, and you hold onto him tighter as you grind against him, matching his pace eagerly. He moans against your lips and kisses you deeper as he grinds against you faster.

You feel him groan against your lips as he pushes your panties aside and positions himself at your slit. You feel his cock slip between your folds, and you realize that he’s not wearing a condom.

You pull away from the kiss and look at him with a mixture of want and confusion in your eyes. He smirks above you as his gaze lingers, waiting.

“Wait, Beomgyu—” you gasp as he begins moving against you. The direct contact is driving you crazy, and you’re finding it hard to form a coherent thought.

“Relax, I won't put it in. I promise.” he whispers as he leans down to kiss and suck on your neck. You moan and throw your head back to allow him better access.“Just wanted to feel you better...”

He grinds his hips against you faster, and the feeling of his bare, hard cock rubbing against your throbbing pussy is too much. The friction against your clit is driving you insane, and you don’t think you can last much longer.

“Fuck, Beomgyu—I’m gonna—” you try to warn him, but it comes out as a jumbled mess.“I can’t—”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, as he grinds his hips harder against you. The feeling of him on top of you and the friction he’s causing is driving you closer and closer to the edge. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to an orgasm with just dry humping alone.

“Beomgyu!” you call out to him as you dig your nails into his arms.“Please—I—”

He smirks, locking eyes with you before he leans down to press his lips against yours. He kisses you deeply and passionately as you continue to grind against each other, chasing your releases.

You pull away to breathe, and you throw your head back as you feel yourself reaching your peak. He continues to grind against you, and you buck your hips up to meet him halfway. You grip his arms tighter as you feel your orgasm building up.

You let out a loud cry as you reach your peak, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. Beomgyu doesn’t stop grinding against you as he chases his own release. You ride out your orgasm, your pussy clenching around nothing.

You feel him stutter against you as he reaches his own release, his cum spurting out and painting your thighs white. You moan at the feeling and look down to see him covering you with his release. He continues grinding against you, riding out his release until he’s completely spent.

When he’s finished, he pulls away and lets go of your waist, allowing you to lean back on his bed. You both breathe heavily as you try to catch your breaths. You cover your face with your hands as you try to hide your embarrassment. You can’t believe what just happened.

You just dry humped your friend. Your roommate. The person that you tell all your problems to. And yet, you didn't want to admit that you needed more.

“Are you okay?” you hear Beomgyu’s voice, and you look up to see him looking at you with concern. You nod and try to smile.

“I’m fine,” you say and try to laugh it off. 

He laughs softly and sits on the bed beside you. He runs a hand through your hair gently, and you close your eyes to savor the moment. You didn’t expect him to be so gentle. You try to ignore the way something curls in your stomach afterwards.

“Don’t worry,” he says softly.“We’ll just keep this between us.”

You nod and look up at him. You’re about to say something when his voice suddenly drops.

“Next time, though,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.“I’m not going to hold back.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he's implying.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. He just chuckles and shrugs.

“I'm telling you that I’m going to fill your pussy up with my cum if you’d let me.”

The words send a jolt through you—your stomach flips, your breath hitches, and suddenly you're way too aware of how little space there is between you.

You grab the nearest pillow and hurl it at his smug face before he can notice the flush creeping up your neck. He dodges it easily, the pillow landing harmlessly on the floor.

“You wish,” you snap, already scrambling for your clothes, needing something to focus on that isn't the way his voice made your legs feel weak.

“This was a one-time thing, Beomgyu,” you add quickly, like saying it out loud might make it true.“It’s not happening again.”

He watches you in that maddeningly calm way of his, like he knows you’re lying before you even do. The smirk on his face is infuriating—warm and slow, like honey dripping from a secret you shouldn’t want to hear.

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” he replies easily. “Just saying, if one time ever starts to feel like it's not enough... you know where I sleep.”

Your heart stutters, your brain scrambling for a comeback that doesn’t sound like a confession. You roll your eyes instead—hard—and force yourself to ignore the heat spreading through your chest. It’s just his ego. His game. His way of teasing you.

You won’t fall for it again.

“Good night.” you mutter, refusing to look at him as you head to the door.

“Good night, Y/N.” he echoes behind you, softer this time. It sounded sincere.

You close the door gently behind you, but you don’t move. Not right away.

Your fingers hover over the doorknob. Your forehead rests against the wood. And for just a second, you let yourself replay it—the way he looked at you, touched you, told you he wanted you like it was everything to him. The way you melted under his touch, never crossing your boundaries, even though you secretly wanted him to.

You bite your lip, shake your head, and push off the door.

No.

Nuh-uh.

You’re not doing this again. Definitely not.

.....at least, that's what you told yourself.

But you would be lying if you said you weren't already thinking about what next time might feel like.

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