hee lovebot - enhypen is 7

 -♡-

you were both sitting up on the mattress. you had cracked the window open, so the sounds of traffic or birds chirping filled any silent gaps in your conversation. like right now, when you had gone quiet after sunghoon asked how you were feeling about your comeback.

“why that face? you look nervous,” he noted, lowering his brows.

his head faced what was to its front, like yours, but his gaze was to the side. it was on you. your head leaned back on the apartment wall, a strange curve to your mouth as you stared ahead. your hands patted your knees, almost drumming on them, though it didn't seem to relax you.

“i… kinda am,” you admitted, words hushed like you wanted to hide them, “i'm, uh, scared i'll mess up.”

“poor thing. you don't know what to do?”

sunghoon fought his smile as you responded with slow, hesitant nods. the puppy who was always paralysed when not being led by a leash.

“do you need help? i can help you,” he offered, his head now turned to you.

this was not his first time back in your apartment after you had revealed c-four’s new concept, but it was your first time having an actual discussion about it. you were so ashamed after the initial ordeal, sending him a million text message apologies, so sunghoon made the polite decision to act as though it never happened. an act, however, was just that. his body could not forget. his chin still felt the warmth of your fingers, weeks later. his mind consisted of that moment alone, looping as if he could remember nothing else but your expectant gaze and smokey eyeshadow. 

it could make him clench his fist, to think that he had you in the palm of his hand and pushed you away. he was a fool to think you could stay the same forever, to not realise that he could love every version of you. at your core, no matter what, you would be his.

“help me?”

sunghoon hummed as he nodded, taking your hand from your leg and connecting your fingers. he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“yes. i’m your seonbae, right? is there anyone you trust more than me?”

that felt like the sort of question you were meant to pause before answering, so you did. you tried to make a list of people you trusted. there was sunghoon… and there was not anyone else, so you shook your head.

“i, um, i t-trust you the most, hoon.”

there were times when you regretted the things you said, for reasons unbeknownst to yourself, and the downcast feeling would only leave when sunghoon smiled in response. that smile told you it was okay, that he didn’t hate you like the others.

“thank you for trusting me. i trust you, too,” he spoke, “so i know you’ll listen to me well.”

“yeah, i’ll, uh, do my best,” you promised.

“good,” he laughed, “because you are too clueless. you would be a real mess if i wasn’t here to help you.”

he knew his words stung, but he needed them to. once you realised that your only hope was in sunghoon, there would be nothing you would not do for him.

“you’ve never even kissed a guy before, have you?”

you looked to a corner of the room, biting your lip and furrowing your brows. the humiliated look on your face said enough on its own, there was no need for you to speak.

“you see, angel? you’re clueless,” he chided, “so i’ll have to teach you, won’t i?”

sunghoon’s large palm pressed onto your cheek, turning your head to face his own. you didn’t remember him being this close when you had looked away. at this proximity, you could see the tiny mole beside his mouth– and even count his eyelashes. his smile had dropped. now, his soft-looking lips were a little parted.

“don’t you want to kiss me?”

your heart dropped at the question, but its rate rose. you had been spending all your free time with sunghoon for a while now, but you weren’t dating. he was your friend, not your boyfriend, so it would be a little weird to kiss him. however, he was right. you had been wanting to be more than friends with him, you had just never felt brave enough to admit it, had never known if it was alright for you to want him that way. so you hovered on the thin line, where he could hold your hand and feed you food, but not get any cozier. hearing him ask that, you thought that you could finally step past that boundary.

“y-yes, please,” you admitted, looking right into his dark pupils.

his eyes flicked from yours to your lips (you wondered if running to the bathroom to re-apply your lipgloss would ruin the moment) and he grinned at you, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“i knew it, that’s my girl.”

his face approached yours until your noses touched. you could see each speck in his irises. your breaths tickled each other’s skin and it made you giggle.

“close your eyes, baby.”

he took it slow, and his lips were as soft as they had looked. his hand grasped the back of your head, giving you gentle pets as he kissed you. it almost surprised him, how sweet indulgence tasted. he had spent all this time holding back, and for what? if your label wanted to take advantage of you, he deserved to do the same. at least with him, it was out of love. fragile things were made to be destroyed, and you were worth the wait. it was only when a glass had been shattered to pieces that it could be arranged into something new, something even more beautiful.

sunghoon pushed your back against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from the impact, and you broke the kiss with a gasp. fingers cupping your jaw, he groaned as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. he licked the pink muscle that poked out between your lips, delighting in your high-pitched whimpers, before closing his mouth around yours once more. again and again. all he could hear was your soft breathing and the faint noises from your lips as they connected or pulled apart. he thought that he could do this forever, just keep tasting your sweet saliva and feeling the ridges of your mouth.

his hand lowered from your head to be placed right above your hip, giving your soft flesh a firm squeeze before he brought you in closer to him. he was sure your heart was right by his own. if he really tried to, he could probably hear it beating. 

catching the edge of your lip with his teeth, sunghoon tugged it forward before releasing. he soothed the sting with his tongue, running it over the place he’d abused, then pushing it into your wet cave. you squirmed in his hold as his tongue travelled as far as it could reach, gagging around it and barely able to breathe, but he only held you firmer. he could get lost in you. in fact, he already was. he wished that every part of you could fit into his mouth. sunghoon put away his tongue and placed feverish kisses on every inch of your mouth.

“mine,” he muttered as his lips pressed onto yours repeatedly, “mine, mine, mine.”

each kiss was a promise. a promise that you were only his, that you would take whatever he gave you, that you would give whatever he wished to take from you. each kiss was a seal, proof that you could never let him leave your side. this way, he could do whatever he wanted with you.

overwhelmed by the onslaught of kisses, you turned your head away from his. sunghoon followed without hesitation. your lips were bright and bite-swollen, glossy from his saliva, and you were light-headed from the warmth of everything. by this point, sunghoon had been both your first and your five hundredth kiss. you had gotten wet for him some time ago. it was only natural with how his tongue had been exploring your mouth and how his low groans had settled in your belly. you needed more and didn’t know how to ask for it. you never thought that kissing could feel like this. it was too much for you.

“no,” you mumbled, barely louder than the sound of his mouth on yours, “no… more…”

“no? but i want more, baby,” he pouted, still unable to pull away from you.

he was sure that he didn’t have to– you could never say no to him– but you sounded truly spent. he pushed his lips onto yours one last time, steady and forceful, before finally retracting. you collapsed onto the mattress the second he pulled back his arms.

“i’m sorry,” he sighed, “you’re just too cute, i wanna eat you right up.”

he lowered himself, lying beside you on the mattress, his chest to your back. sunghoon wrapped his arms around you and drew you in even closer, resting his chin above your shoulder. now that you’d kissed him, he didn’t see the big deal in sleeping over at your place. however, the sunghoon of tomorrow would have to think of a good explanation for his absence from the dorms. too bad for him.

with each slow breath he took, his ribcage rising as his thorax expanded, sunghoon inhaled your scent. your perfume had dried down on your skin, so only the hints of caramel lingered. he pondered on how long it would take for the same to happen to you. after how long, he asked himself, would nothing of your former self remain?

 -♡-

you hadn’t been able to get it out of your mind, what you and sunghoon had done. you knew that these kinds of things had a path. some method of progression. you would follow the breadcrumbs from hugs to kisses, and then to a point where you would lose your way. the point where you would look back and see that the forest birds had eaten your trail, not leaving a single trace behind. you reminded yourself that that kind of thing only happened to people who were all alone, and that was not you. you had sunghoon’s warm hands to hold as he led the way forward.

you looked at nothing but your feet as you walked home from the station. as per usual, you had fallen asleep on the ride home. you felt your own drool wetting your nose beneath the black face mask you wore. the second you got into your apartment, you would take a shower and wash away all these gross feelings. the hour after that, sunghoon’s familiar, forceful knocks would be heard at your door. you sort of missed the more public outings, but it was safer for him to only meet up with you at your place these days. if you were to get caught fooling around, taking a romantic stroll by han river or hopping between cafés, it would be a huge scandal. the murder-suicide of your careers.

you liked having him over, though, liked how he didn’t need to disguise himself and how you no longer felt alone. your apartment must have been like a second home to him, by now. the world around you wasn’t too loud, just your footsteps on the stone walkway and the occasional ‘nyeom’ as a motorbike raced past, and you smiled to yourself in this peaceful journey to the home you shared with sunghoon. he would be coming over, so you had something to be excited about.

 -♡-

you sat cross-legged on the floor, across from him, marvelling at the glistening meat before you and the smoke that was rising from it. the smell of steaming-hot bulgogi was irresistible, you were quick to swallow before you could openly drool.

“surprise,” sunghoon grinned, spreading ssamjang on his lettuce, “i wanted to treat you.”

he had ordered the perfect treat, the delicious barbeque before you. of course, the food was always tastier at an actual restaurant (and for some reason, the sauces never tasted the same), but you would definitely enjoy it either way. especially because you were sharing the meal with sunghoon.

“th-thank you so much,” you chirped, looking at him with stars in your eyes, and he returned your cheerful expression.

the two of you made idle conversation on your days as you ate, and you made sure not to speak while you were still chewing– no matter how excited a topic made you. afterwards, sunghoon cleaned everything away. the plastic take-out boxes made a grating noise as he crushed them and put them in the trash.

you walked next to sunghoon, waiting for him to finish washing his hands before you could do the same, and thanked him once more. this time, however, sunghoon looked at you without a smile. his hoodie was a shade of grey light enough to be called white. he tugged its sleeves back down after drying his hands. his full eyebrows were right above the thin-frames of the glasses he was wearing today. this look of his was a bit different. it felt, somehow, more mature.

“don’t you think actions are more important than words?”

the question had you tilting your head, waiting for him to elaborate.

“you say ‘thank you’ a lot, but you don’t really show it,” he commented, his gaze centred on you.

“i’m… sorry?”

sunghoon shook his head as he held his chin, canines flashing as his tongue swept over his lip.

“no, not like that, baby,” he replied, smiling at the confusion in your expression, “i want to teach you how to say ‘thank you’ like an adult, okay? it can even be an apology, sometimes.”

your eyebrows pushed together and sunghoon fought to not squish your cute face. you didn’t know a thing in the world, did you?

“get on your knees.”

the sudden command was enough to render you speechless. you blinked at him, but he only stared back. waiting with his mouth a straight line, his eyes dark enough for you to get lost in. a tiny ‘oof’ left your lips as your kneecaps hit the wooden floor. now, you were at eye-level with the bulge in his sweats. you dropped your gaze to the floor immediately, heat rising from your neck to your face.

sunghoon found this view of the top of your head to be more beautiful than he’d imagined. your eyelashes curled beneath your brows and your nose nearly brushing against his pants. it was also a nice angle to see your cleavage from.

“look at me.”

with your head tilted up, sunghoon could easily see how your eyes were wide with apprehension. your mouth was curved into a minor frown, one of discomfort and not frustration.

“do you know what i want you to do?”

he raised your arm as you shook your head, clasping your hand as he pulled down his pants. you gasped when the fabric pooled around his feet. sunghoon cupped your jaw, made sure you were still looking as he tugged down his boxers, made sure he could see the surprise on your face once you saw his dick. you did not disappoint. your raised brows wrinkled your forehead and your mouth hung open. it was like you already knew what to do.

“yeah, like that,” he approved, “but you have to open a little wider, baby.”

“huh?”

sunghoon pushed his thumb into your mouth, resting its pad on your tongue.

“wider, open wider.”

you stretched your mouth open as best as you could, looking up at him as you waited for his approval.

“that’s good, angel, perfect.”

if you could close your mouth, you would have smiled. 

“now, stick your tongue out.”

sunghoon held his length as he guided it to your waiting tongue, dropping its thick mass onto your saliva-coated muscle. the cool sensation had him sucking in a breath through his teeth. sunghoon’s fingers delved into your hair and he couldn’t believe that it felt this good already. your label was right to make you a sex symbol, or it would have really been wasted potential. he was having more fun ruining you than he had ever had protecting you.

“get it nice and wet for me,” he directed, “use your tongue, come on.”

a shiver ran down his spine as you lapped at the tangy precum that oozed from his flushed tip. each stroke of your tongue earned low, breathy moans from him.

“fuck, you’re a natural.”

he pushed further into your mouth, letting its warmth envelope him, shuddering at the light scrape from your teeth. you moaned around him, bringing your hands to encase the length that had yet to push past your lips. you did your best to make him happy, tongue and lips on his tip like you were fucking making out with it. making use of what he’d already taught you. you would give a big lick, then press your lips to it in wet kisses before slipping him back into your mouth, all while looking right into his eyes. you wanted to see each expression he made, proof of the pleasure you were giving him. you bobbed your head and tried to swallow more, wincing at your lack of air.

“you have to breathe through your nose, silly, don’t take too much at–”

he cut himself off with a groan as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in harder as if apologising for not being skilled enough. your hands squeezed around him and your eyebrows were furrowed in pure concentration. tears stinging your eyes, you relaxed your throat and brought him in until your nose brushed his pelvic bone. you were able to maintain your position for all of five seconds before you began to gag, attempting to pull your head back.

sunghoon didn’t let you. he placed both hands on your head and brought it forward. you had done enough, he would take it from here. if you wouldn’t listen to him, you’d have to learn your lesson the hard way. sunghoon thrust into your mouth, letting his dick hit the back of your throat each time. it was clear you were struggling to breathe from the gurgling you were doing and the streaks of tears on your face, but it felt too good when your throat constricted around him. he was close, and you were close to throwing up. it wouldn’t really be a turn off for him, if he was honest.

your hands rose to push his lower abdomen, basically slapping his stomach to get him to slow down. sunghoon’s hand wrapped tight around both your wrists, the other still moving your head over his dick. he looked deep into your glossy eyes and came into your mouth. the salty flood filled your mouth before he pulled away, leaving you to gasp for air, his cum mixing with your saliva and falling from your mouth. it made a puddle on the wood below you.

“aw, no, baby,” he frowned, “i really wanted you to swallow. maybe next time.”

he pet your head, then pulled you up to stand, admiring your bruised knees.

“it’s okay, you still did such a good job for me. i’m really proud of you.”

you smiled as your hand held your heaving chest. that was terrifying, if you were to tell the truth, but it made him glad with you. if saying ‘thank you’ this way honestly made sunghoon happy, then it was worth it. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and planted a kiss on your forehead.

 “you’re welcome.” 

 -♡-

as you did vocal warmups in the recording booth, you started to think that you had made a big mistake yesterday. your voice was not in its best condition. your throat felt raw and scratchy, despite your continued attempts at massaging it, but what could you tell the producer? that you were sorry, but you were too busy sucking dick the other day and now you couldn’t sing? that thought alone made you shudder. 

“okay, let’s start with the bridge,” the producer called out. he was leaning back in his chair, cap pulled low over his face. the sight felt a little reminiscent of something– someone– you knew well.

you nodded your head and gave a thumbs up, adjusting your headphones to sit perfectly above your ears. you heard the reference track, it was yoona’s angelic voice, and tried to let the melody sink into your mind.

“don’t hold back, boy, i know you want more,” you sang, testing out the line under your breath until you felt ready to record it.

“okay, good,” he approved, “could you just try to draw out the ‘boy’ a little more? it’s an invitation,” he explained, “you’re not a kitty anymore, you’re a fox.”

you redid the bridge with his direction, stretching the word as if you were moaning it, eyes flicking to the producer. you hoped you had done it right, because you were already feeling pretty awkward.

“yes, perfect,” he cheered, “the raspy voice you’re doing sounds nice, too, i’ll see if i can get the others to replicate it.”

that was unexpected. your skin warmed not just from the praise, but also as you recalled the reason behind the current texture of your voice. you smiled nonetheless. everything sunghoon did was helping you be a better idol. you were truly grateful for him.

“th-thank you…”

“oh-kay,” he pronounced with a click of his tongue, “i think that’s okay for now. mina is next, let her come in if she’s ready. thank you.”

you let out a happy little hum as you took off the headphones and exited the booth.

“u-um, you’re next,” you muttered, tapping mina on the shoulder.

she nodded and walked past you, without a single word.

“hey…”

you turned your head to the voice at your side, surprised to see another one of your members, hyejin, looking right at you. was there something on your face?

“hey?”

she was leaned against the wall, and she gestured for you to come to her side and do the same. once you had done so, she tilted her head to face you and smiled.

when you first debuted, her hair had been long and plain black, accentuating the graceful and wise personality that her name promised. for your comeback, however, she had been instructed to cut it short and dye it blonde. she looked more rebellious this way. the label should have known it was risky to mess with her charm. she was the least popular member, seeing as– much like you– she was exceptional at neither singing nor dancing. unfortunately for her, she was without a sunghoon to boost her reputation.

“hey,” she repeated, “don’t you think this song is kind of… heavy-handed?”

“huh?”

“you know,” she shrugged, her expression seeming to drop at the realisation that she may have been alone in her perspective, “we were all cute before, right? now we need to be super sexy. it’s like we’re trying to break a record for the number of online discussions praising our duality.”

hyejin always closed her eyes when she laughed, as if she were savouring whatever she had found humour in. there were dimples in her slim cheeks, and she had the kind of smile that could make anything feel a little funny.

“i, uhm, i dunno,” you mumbled, mind going back to how sunghoon’s eyes closed when you had him in your mouth, “i think i’m– think i’m kind of good at, uh, being sexy.”

her smile grew to be lopsided. she gave you a knowing look, the sort of look someone would give you if they had seen you stumbling out of a toilet and adjusting your skirt.

“i bet you are,” she giggled, “your boyfriend is one lucky guy.”

“i don’t– don’t have a boyfriend,” you refuted, shaking your head with a panicked expression that only strengthened her laughter.

what was she thinking, saying something like that? was she trying to get you in trouble? you were lucky no one else was around.

“okay, maybe you don’t have a boyfriend–” she made air quotes when saying ‘boyfriend’. “–but you have a boyfriend, come on.”

she narrowed her gaze, pushing her face closer to yours.

“or are you saying you’ve been ditching us for no reason? you know, there are four of us,” she pointed out, “c-four. it’s in the name, but sometimes it feels like it’s just three. you’re always too busy with your not-boyfriend to hang out with us.”

hyejin took a deep breath before she continued speaking. the words came out rushed, but structured, like she’d had them on her mind for a while.

“you didn’t show up during yoona’s live last night. i know it was spontaneous, but these kinds of things matter when we’re such a small group. it’s how we make a strong bond with our fans. some comments were asking for you and we just had to say you were sleeping, but you don’t even live at the dorms with us!”

 you hung your head low. it was hard to hear this much hatred at once. you told yourself that even if the entire universe hated you, sunghoon’s love for you would remain.

“i’m, um, i’m so sorry.”

“you don’t have to be sorry,” she clarified, shaking her head, “i’m not trying to be preachy, here. i just want you to remember we’re a team, because it kind of feels like you resent us sometimes. don’t you want to be an idol with us?”

the question– and her audacity to ask such a thing– jolted you. couldn’t she see how much effort you were putting in? or did she think all the extra time you spent practicing was just for fun? sunghoon was helping you improve your skills, it wasn’t like you had been doing all that stuff for no reason.

“of course i do,” you exclaimed, your head shooting up, “i want to be an idol more than anything, everything i do is for this, it’s my dream!”

“it’s our dream,” hyejin corrected, lifting her fist in the air, “don’t get mad at me, come on.”

slowly losing your scowl, you bumped her fist with your own, then pulled away with wiggling fingers.

“boom,” you both said, hands dropping back to your sides.

“fighting for our comeback,” hyejin smiled, “i’m sure you’ll do a great job, sexy kitty.”

once again, she was laughing at her own joke. you paid no mind to it. all you could think of was getting home and telling sunghoon what had happened.

 -♡-

“– and then, then she said i was– i was too busy spending time with you instead of them!”

“why should you spend time with them? aren’t they the same girls who were starting rumours that you fucked your way into debuting?”

you hesitated before answering. it hadn’t exactly been like that…

“well, um–”

“do you remember what i told you in the café, when we first became friends?”

of course you remembered. it was one of your happiest memories. your heart felt warm and fuzzy each time you relived it in your mind.

“i told you not to listen to them,” he reminded, “you don’t need them. do you think they care about you the same way that i do?”

you didn’t wait before shaking your head, almost insulted by him asking that.

“no, no, not at all!”

“that’s what i thought.”

sunghoon brought you into a hug, a frown falling on his face once it was out of your sight. they were trying to take you away from him. he had spent all this time, teaching you– training you– to become your ideal self. now that he was almost done, everyone’s grubby hands were stretching towards you and trying to pull you from his side. he dug his fingers into your shoulders like claws, wishing you could just stay by him and never leave. you suppressed a whimper.

“th-thank you for, uh, helping me understand, hoonie.”

you withdrew from his vice-like grip and smiled at him before a look of recognition befell you.

“oh! i– i almost forgot. actions, not words, r-right?”

you fell to your knees in an instant, your fingers undoing the drawstrings of his sweats. the sight was sweet enough to rid sunghoon of all his previous frustrations. you obeyed him like he owned you. it was as easy as that. you were easier to train than a puppy.

 -♡-

it was paradise for sunghoon to see you these days. whether it was you in the flesh, or the gallery of pictures he’d taken of you. he could only smile when he swiped through the folder he had dedicated to you, the odd video giving him a pleasant surprise every now and then. you on your knees, smiling at him; you with your shirt lifted up, giving the camera a worried look; you with your face covered in his cum like it was wax. it was more of a treasure chest than a folder.

when he thought back to the first time he’d wanted to spoil you, reading through forum posts like a man possessed, he became so proud of his handiwork. all because of him, you had bloomed from a blushing virgin– unable to handle even his kisses– into the docile dame whose mouth he could fuck whenever he’d had an annoying day.

he’d turned you into a butterfly. now all he needed to do was to pin you by the wings and put you in a picture frame. somewhere that only he had access to. with the lingerie he had bought you and the mascara that drew attention to your pretty eyes, you were truly a sight to behold now that you were all grown up. well, almost. there was still one last thing he had to do.

sunghoon felt you smiling against his lips before he pulled back. he loved how you could get drunk on his kisses alone, but you could give him more than this, now.

“aren’t you bored of this,” he asked, smiling as you shook your head and tried to kiss him once more.

he cupped your face and moved it away from his own. you pouted at him.

“but don’t you want more?”

this time, your response was a shaky hum. you loved kissing sunghoon, you revered it, yet it was true that more would be better. he always left your lips satisfied, but the hot ache below your waist was thoroughly neglected.

“let me have you this way. if you give me a little more, you’ll be a star this comeback,” he promised, “everyone will love you.”

his words were sticky honey and you were already trapped in their sweetness. how could you say no to being loved?

“uh, okay…”

sunghoon peeled off your clothes. the summer heat overpowered your measly air conditioning, and sweat gave a sheen to your bare skin. bare, nothing besides your truest self. this was now, also, in sunghoon’s clammy hands. he brought them to your breasts, pushing them together and watching how they jiggled after he released them. then, his right hand landed on your stomach. he dragged it down, let his fingers spread over your mound before he pushed one inside.

“ah,” you breathed, biting your lip in anticipation as his long finger entered your hole.

the intrusion felt unusual, but you liked it enough to ask for more. of course, he listened. his ring finger joined his middle finger, and he made scissor-like motions using them. you moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out, his fingers being wet by your arousal. if you weren’t so dazed by sunghoon’s fingers thrusting into your pussy, you would have been embarrassed by the obnoxiously loud squelching noises, rivaled only by your own mewls.

“does it feel good, baby?”

you nodded quickly, your pupils dilated as you watched sunghoon’s fingers moving inside of you. you raised your hips as if helping him, but you were really just chasing his touch, wanting more of him deeper inside you. your toes curled and you whimpered as the tension from his touches built up.

sunghoon had pure love in his eyes as he looked at you as you writhed beneath him. your fluttering lashes and your parted lips. he could place his delicate kisses all over you, but he chose to plant them across your strained neck.

“lower your head, it’s okay,” he whispered, holding your head as it lowered onto your pillow, “you’ll see it later.”

he wasn’t lying. his left hand pulled his phone from his pocket as his right one continued to pleasure you. his thumb pressed down on your clit as he tapped the red circle on his screen to begin recording. his forefinger and pinky pushed into either of your thighs as his middle ones curled inside your gummy walls.

you still weren’t used to making lewd videos with sunghoon, didn’t know how to feel about it. the closest thing you’d ever done to it was letting your landlord take upskirt photos of you for cheaper rent, but you never wanted to think about that after the fact. it wasn’t you.

“you look so good on camera, angel,” he admired, “you’re so, so pretty. let me see you fall apart.”

he had a steady hold of his phone as he captured you coming undone, your back arching off the mattress and his fingers being coated in your transparent mess. your loud moans soothed into quiet whimpers, your legs still shaking as he pulled his hand out from between your thighs.

without waiting for you to fully ride out your orgasm, sunghoon stuck his hand below his waistband and pulled out his dick. your tongue lolled out as if on instinct. his dumb, cute puppy. sunghoon stroked your cheek, then let you suck on his thumb. it was more work to line his dick up with your entrance, seeing as both his hands were occupied, but he had good body control. he was an idol, after all. 

he was grateful that the first time he entered your pussy would have everlasting videographic evidence, but there was no amount of pixels that could capture the feeling. your tight hole that he had laboured to stretch out and prepare, yet he could hardly push past its opening.

“shit,” he groaned, hand dropping from your face to your thigh as he spread your legs further. it was a close fit as he pushed inside, your walls hugging him like you never wanted him to leave. that was fine with him. he could stay snug inside you forever. he lowered his phone to the bulge in your belly, stroking it with his palm before pressing down. you squeaked and clenched around him, making it hard for him to pull out, but he managed.

your breaths were hurried, as if you were preparing to have the wind knocked out of you once he re-entered. you were right to get ready. sunghoon made sure to film your pretty face as he pushed back inside of you. it almost burned, and you bit your lip not to yelp. he thrust into you slow, his hand sliding up to massage your breast. he pinched your nipple before slapping it, making you gasp in pained pleasure.

it was so good, but he wanted more. he dropped his phone and lifted your head to his, tongue diving into your open mouth. your body shook in his hold, his dick pushing against your cervix from how hard he was thrusting. he wanted to have all of you, all at once. he broke the kiss and bit into your throat, the action hardly able to conceal his loud groans. his sharp teeth hurt as they dug into your flesh, but the sensation only made your eyes roll back. he apologised by licking your skin, indented by his bite mark, the slimy feeling of his saliva making your toes curl.

“hoon, hoon,” you cried, close to snapping.

each time his dick slammed into you, into your most sensitive spot, you yelped his name and tightened around it.

“i’m close, too, angel, it’s okay.”

your thighs squeezed around his waist as his hips slapped against yours. sunghoon had this love-crazed look to him, wisps of his black hair scattered about or sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and it was the sight you witnessed before your vision went white. you came hard, grabbing him like a lifeline before flopping onto your mattress.

sunghoon thought of how far you’d come, how much you had changed for him, and he shot his thick approval into your womb. he filled you up with his release and it made him reluctant to pull out. he didn’t want a single drop going to waste.

“you did such a good job. did you like it,” he asked without letting you answer, (seeing your fucked-out face made it clear you woudn’t have been able to) “i know you did.”

sunghoon watched the rise and fall of your chest, the subtle twitching of your eyes as you struggled with sleep, and placed his hand above your heart. he felt its beating slow as it vibrated up his arm. it was okay for you to rest now, he’d taught you all that you needed to know. he had made you perfect for him.

“i think you’re ready for your comeback now, baby.”

 -♡-

the cheering crowd was bigger than you’d anticipated, but you weren’t too scared to stand before them. in fact, you were excited to show off all the tricks sunghoon had taught you. or at least, the general idea behind them.

“everyone, c-four’s comeback is finally here!”

the cheers amplified as mina spoke into the microphone, she beamed as she passed it to you.

“y-yes! it’s been some time since, um, since we released ‘heart explosion!’ and–” your mention of c-four’s most popular track seemed to send a bolt of electricity through the audience, a few excited yells making you pause before continuing, “this time, we– we really wanted to show a new side to us, a, uh, whole new colour of c-four!”

 hyejin gently grasped your hand as she took the microphone from you.

“get ready for our new song– ‘triple touch’– make some noise!”

finally, yoona took the microphone and performed the intro to the song. you were more than prepared. it felt not like a performance, but like an exploration of your new self. it felt like being alive. the choreography, that had you kneeling on the stage floor and arching your back, was nothing you were not already used to. only this time, it was for more than just sunghoon.

it didn’t matter what your family would think, it didn’t matter what anyone would think, because you didn’t need them anymore. you needed sunghoon, and he said that you were great at this. you were a natural.

you smiled from your heart as you danced and sang, your raspy vocals a new signature. a scream of your name from the crowd raced to reach you, your bruised knees on the floor and your ass in the air, the sound waves hitting your ears like another kind of music. everything you had ever done was worth it, because just like sunghoon had promised, now everyone loved you.

 -♡-

your members had invited you to have karaoke with them, to celebrate a successful comeback stage, but you declined with the excuse that your voice was too hoarse. in reality, you rushed home knowing that sunghoon was waiting for you at your apartment, opening the door and running up to him.

“hoonie, it– it went amazing!”

you hugged him tight and squealed in joy, even jumping in your excitement.

“you h-have to watch my fancams when they release, okay? i really… really wish you could have come to the concert.”

sunghoon recoiled at the idea, pulling back from the hug so you could look into his eyes and see their lack of mirth.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about,” he began, watching the fervor fade from your face, “i don’t…”

he was not sure how best to word it. all he knew was that your stupid crowd didn’t deserve you. they hadn’t worked to make you the perfect vixen, he had. they hadn’t taken the time to train you slowly, to turn you into who you were today. they had no right to behold you this way.

“you don’t…?”

“you’re mine, right? so it doesn’t really make me happy to see you performing for all those people.”

“but– but i’m an… i’m an idol, it’s my job…”

“that’s what i was thinking, baby, maybe you shouldn’t be an idol anymore.”

“what?”

the lone word trembled as it fell from your lips. soon, they also began to tremble. you shook your head in confusion, and continued shaking it as tears streamed from your big eyes.

“i– i don’t understand. i– i’m an idol, sunghoon, this is m-my job, this is my d-dream,” you whimpered, “i’ve worked so hard for th-this… why?”

“that’s not your only purpose, though, angel. the thing you’re best at, in the whole world, is making me happy. you’re the only person who can do that.”

sunghoon stroked your head as your sobs shook your entire body.

“don’t cry, baby, you did so good. you did so good, it was the perfect send-off. now everyone will remember you well, yeah?”

it took you some time to calm down, but eventually you did, sniffling and nodding.

“i knew you’d understand. now, go wash your face,” he uttered, “do you need me to help?”

“no,” you mumbled, turning around and walking to your bathroom.

the sound of the door shutting was soft. you turned on the tap and watched the water run before intercepting the stream with your quivering hands. the wetness on your face, once from tears, was now from the sink. you lifted your gaze from the faucet’s flowing water to the mirror. for a good amount of time, you stared at your reflection and tried to find one part of it that you could recognise. there wasn’t a single thing. he had taken all of you.

you didn’t have time to think about that, however, sunghoon was waiting for you just on the other side of the door. he probably wanted you to say ‘thank you’, seeing how well your performance went. that was only because of him.

you dried your face and accepted who you saw in the mirror. this was you now. maybe you weren’t who you used to be, but you were who sunghoon needed you to be. you would open the door and spread your legs for him again. that was enough to make you happy.

okay yay that's it !! thank u for reading (⸝⸝´꒳⸝⸝) im rlly so grateful to you, sending lots of kisses!!

The lace of your underwear, chosen specifically because Jungwon's fingers caught on the fabric when he peeled them off your hips, is wound twice around your wrists and knotted tight between them, your palms pressed together in front of you like you're praying. The fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, the delicate scalloped edge digging faintly into the underside of your left wrist every time you shift.

Jungwon is kneeling on the stone floor in front of the slab, and two of his fingers are inside you — moving so slowly you could scream. They push in, curl, drag out. In, curl, drag. The rhythm is agonizing, each stroke precise enough to press right against the spot that makes your thighs tense and your stomach clench, but never fast enough, never hard enough, never enough. His thumb works your clit in tight circles that keep you right at the edge of something without ever letting you fall into it. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you open, thumb pressing into the soft inside of your knee.

"Jungwon, I swear to—ugh, shut the fuck up and do more fucking," you whine, and your voice comes out thin, swallowed almost entirely by the steam and the sound of the water.

He tilts his head. His wet hair falls across his forehead in dark, uneven pieces, and his eyes, sharp and impossibly pleased, lift to meet yours. His fingers don't change pace. They don't even stutter.

"Mm, use that mouth for me, pretty girl. What were you talking to me about last night? The new boutique by the Italian restaurant we always head to?" he coos, voice silky and warm, and the bastard is smiling. A genuine, easy smile, like he's asking you about brunch plans while his fingers are buried inside you.

You open your mouth and every syllable you attempt to form collapses into a moan halfway out because his fingers curl again, pressing against the spot that has your whole body bow forward and your tied hands fall against his shoulder for balance. The lace drags wet against his skin. A sound rips out of you that isn't a word, isn't a name, isn't anything but want, and Jungwon watches it happen with the kind of attention that has your thighs squeezing against his hand.

He beams up at you. "Oh, yes! Wonderful, baby. Very interesting, I'll take you there soon."

You splay your tied hands in protest, shoving weakly at his shoulder, but his fingers continue to go in and out of you with that same unbearable, glacial patience. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit on every downstroke now and your legs are shaking, the warm water running down your thighs mixing with everything else, slicking the stone beneath you. "Fuck, just shut up and eat my pussy."

Jungwon's smile changes. His eyes go dark and warm at the same time, and his tongue drags slow across his bottom lip like he's been waiting for you to say exactly that. He pulls his fingers out of you so slowly you feel every inch of the withdrawal. The loss of them makes you clench around nothing, a whine building in your throat before you can stop it.

"Since you asked so nicely," he murmurs, his voice stripped of that playful lilt. Then his mouth is on you.

His tongue is hot and immediately relentless. He licks a broad, flat stripe from your entrance to your clit, gathering every drop of you. His lips close around your clit and he sucks, gentle at first, then harder, and the noise that leaves your mouth is mortifying and you can’t even bring yourself to care. The water from the rainfall showerhead runs down your stomach and over his jaw, pooling where his mouth meets you, warm rivulets mixing with your wetness and dripping from his chin onto the stone slab beneath you, and the added heat makes every stroke of his tongue feel amplified, filthy, too much.

"Oh—fuck, Jungwon—" Your tied hands drop to his head, fingers tangling into his wet hair and pulling, and he groans against you. The vibration rockets straight through your clit and down into your thighs and you grind forward into his mouth without meaning to, chasing the pressure, and he lets you. He lets you ride his face, his tongue flattening so you can drag yourself against it, and the friction is blinding.

He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing you, breath hot against your soaked skin. "Yeah, pull my hair. Show me how bad you want it." His tongue drags across his bottom lip, tasting you, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and black. "You're so wet, baby. All over my face. Fuck." He says it like he's savoring it. Then he dives back in, and this time his tongue is pointed and precise, flicking rapidly against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth again, and the rhythm he builds is punishing. His hands grip both your thighs now and he forces them wider, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, forearms flexing, the muscle in his shoulders shifting visibly beneath his wet skin. The strength of him is casual and devastating, like he could keep you spread like this for hours and never tire.

Your head falls back against the wet stone wall. The water hits your chest and throat, runs in hot streams between your breasts, and your hips move on their own, grinding against his mouth, chasing the rhythm his tongue is setting, and every time you get close, every time the heat coils tight and rising in your stomach, every time your thighs start to tense and your breathing goes shallow — he slows down. Eases the pressure. Licks you soft and open-mouthed until the edge recedes and you're left shaking and dripping, the orgasm retreating just out of reach, your body burning with the denial of it.

"Jungwon, I'm going to kill you," you gasp, and your voice cracks, your hands tugging at his hair in frustration.

He laughs against you. The vibration of it hums through your clit, your thighs clench hard around his head and he doesn't even flinch — he just keeps you pinned open with those hands, keeps his mouth exactly where it is, keeps laughing while you writhe. "You're not gonna kill me. You're gonna come on my face. I just want it to feel good when you do. I want you to feel it everywhere."

"It would feel better if you didn't keep stopping—"

His tongue flattens against your clit and he drags it up, slow and firm. Your sentence dissolves into a broken, high sound that echoes off the stone walls. He does it again. Each stroke heavy, his mouth so wet with you. Lewd sounds filling the small glass-walled space wet and rhythmic beneath the drum of the water. Then he pulls back again, just his mouth, just enough, and his fingers find you again, two of them sliding back inside so easily it makes your face burn, your body still so wet and open from his mouth that there's no resistance at all.

"You're so wet, baby. So fucking wet for me." His voice is rough now, the teasing lilt frayed at the edges. He fucks you slowly with his fingers while his thumb rubs your clit in tight, maddening circles, and he watches your face with that dark, hungry focus. "You taste so good. I could do this all night."

"Don't you dare."

"Mm, where’d you get all this attitude from? What's the magic word?"

"Jungwon."

"That's my name, not the magic word." He curls his fingers. Presses up. Your back arches off the stone wall and a sound punches out of you that you've never heard yourself make before, loud enough to cut through the drum of the shower. "There it is. That's what I wanted."

He lowers his mouth again. This time he doesn't stop. His tongue works your clit in tight, wet circles while his fingers fuck into you steadily, angled perfectly, pressing that spot on every stroke until your vision blurs. The edge comes back fast, coiling tight and hot in your stomach, spreading down through your thighs, your toes curling against the wet stone, and this time when you arch toward him he doesn't pull away. He moans against you, low and genuine, like he's the one being touched, like eating you out is getting him off — and maybe it is, you realize, because when you glance down past your tied hands you can see his cock, hard and heavy between his thighs, twitching against nothing every time you clench around his fingers.

"Yeah, fuck—come on my face, you dirty girl," he mutters into you. The words vibrate through your clit, and his fingers thrust deep and curl, and his tongue sucks, and the coil snaps.

Your orgasm hits you so hard your vision whites out for a second. Your thighs clamp around his head, your hands grip his hair so tight your knuckles ache. Your hips jerk against his mouth in uneven, desperate thrusts while the pleasure rolls through you in waves. His tongue works you through it, gentle now, lapping at you while you shake and clench around his fingers, and when you finally still, he presses one last slow, open-mouthed kiss to your clit before pulling back.

He looks wrecked. His lips are glistening, his chin wet with you and the shower water, his hair a mess from your hands, and his chest is heaving, each breath shuddering out of him like it costs him something. His eyes are black. His cock is hard, achingly hard, flushed dark and heavy between his thighs, the tip flushed and leaking, and the sight of him kneeling there, desperate and still holding your thighs open with steady hands, makes something raw and hungry twist in your stomach. He got like this from eating you out. That thought alone makes you throb.

"Get up here," you breathe, and you reach for him with your tied hands, the soaked lace stretching between your wrists. "Come here. Come here."

He rises from the stone floor in one fluid motion, water streaming down his chest and stomach, and you grab his shoulder and pull him in. Your mouth finds his and you kiss him hard, open-mouthed, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he groans into it, his hands bracing on the stone wall on either side of your head. You can feel his cock against your thigh, hot and slick. The fact that he's this hard, this desperate, because he spent the last twenty minutes with his mouth between your legs makes you dizzy.

Your tied hands slide down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, his abs jumping beneath your touch, and you wrap your fingers around him. Both palms press together around his cock, the lace binding tight between your wrists. He's slick with precum and shower water, hot and rigid in your hands. He throbs against your palms when you squeeze gently.

"Oh fuck—" His voice cracks. His forehead drops against yours, his eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, fuck—"

"Feel good?" you murmur against his lips, and you stroke him slowly, both hands working him together, the soaked lace dragging against the sensitive underside of his cock with every movement. His hips thrust into your grip involuntarily, chasing the sensation, and his breathing goes ragged and uneven.

"So good, fuck, you feel so good—" He's whining. His voice pitching up on every exhale, his hands fisting against the stone wall, his abs clenching tight with every stroke of your palms. His cock is throbbing in your hands, and you can feel him getting closer — the way he twitches, the way his thrusts lose rhythm, the way his moans fracture into desperate little gasps.

"Such a good cock, baby," you breathe against his jaw, pressing kisses along his throat where his pulse is hammering. "So thick. You're so hot, Jungwon, you're so fucking hot—got yourself all worked up eating me out, didn't you? Loved it, didn't you? You absolutely loved making me come on your face."

A moan rips out of him, his hips jerk forward hard, fucking into your hands, his cock sliding through your grip slick and fast. "Yes—fuck, yes, I loved it, you taste so good, I love it here, I love—"

You can feel it. He's literally right there. His thighs are trembling, his breathing is gone, his cock is twitching constantly in your hands, and his whole body is coiled tight, seconds from snapping.

You pull your hands away. His hips thrust into empty air and a broken, devastated sound leaves his mouth. Before he can protest, you guide him forward, position him at your entrance — you're so wet, so open from his fingers and his mouth, and the blunt heat of him pressing against you makes your breath catch. You hook your tied hands behind his back and pull him in closer, pull him into you, and he sinks inside in one long, deep thrust that steals the air from both of you.

"Fuck—" Jungwon's voice breaks. His arms give out. His chest hits yours, warm and pressed flat against you, and his face buries into your neck and he shudders so hard you feel it in your teeth. "Oh my—shit, baby, you feel—fuck, you're so—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. His hips pull back and snap forward and the sound that comes out of him is broken and beautiful, his length dragging slow and deep out of you before thrusting back in. He’s thick enough that you feel every inch of the stretch, thick enough that your walls clench around him involuntarily and he groans like he's dying.

"Good boy," you gasp into his ear, and his hips stutter and slam forward harder. "Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Such a good fucking cock, baby. So thick. You're doing so good."

He whines into your neck, thrusting into you deep and hard. The water runs down his back and over your joined bodies and every thrust sends it splattering against the stone floor. His hands find your thighs and he grips them, forces them wider apart, opens you up with that casual strength so he can sink deeper and the new angle makes you cry out, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust now, relentless and deliberate.

"Good boy," you gasp into his ear, and his whole body shudders, his hips slamming forward harder. "Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Such a good fucking cock, baby. So thick. You're doing amazing."

"Jungwon—there, right there, fuck, don't stop—" Your hands drag down his back, the lace catching on his wet skin, your nails scraping red lines into his shoulders. He's pounding into you now, the teasing control from before completely gone, replaced by something raw and hungry.

"I won't stop—I've got you, baby, I've got you—" He pulls back enough to look at you, and his face is devastating. Wet, lips swollen, eyes glassy and dark. His forehead presses to yours and his breath comes in ragged pants against your mouth, his hips never slowing. "Am I doing good? Tell me I'm doing good. I need to hear it."

"Such a good boy," you breathe, and you watch his face crumble with it, watch his eyes squeeze shut and his hips lose their rhythm entirely, thrusting into you deep and uneven. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So good. You're so hot, you're so perfect, you're—fuck—right there, don't stop, harder—"

He fucks into you harder, deeper, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there'll be bruises tomorrow, his cock throbbing inside you, and you can feel yourself building again, the edge coming back fast, coiling tight with every thrust, every drag of him against that spot, every desperate whine spilling from his mouth.

"Come inside me," you gasp, and his whole body seizes. "Come on, baby, give it to me, you've been so good—"

"I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—" His voice pitches high and breaks. His hips slam forward one last time, deep, burying himself fully inside you, and he comes with a sound that's barely human. The heat of him filling you pushes you right over the edge and your orgasm crashes through you for the second time, your walls clenching around him, your tied hands gripping his back, your body arching against his.

He keeps thrusting through it, riding out every wave for both of you, his breath hot against your throat. The water drums on. The steam fills the glass-walled space. His hands loosen on your thighs and slide up to cradle your hips, gentle now, and he stays inside you while the aftershocks roll through you both in diminishing tremors.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are soft and hazy and his lips curve into that same easy smile from before. "So," he murmurs, voice hoarse and wrecked. "About that boutique."

You stare at him. Then you laugh and shove his shoulder with your tied hands. "We can talk about that after this."

He presses a slow, soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. He reaches down and tugs at the lace knotted between your wrists, working the wet fabric loose with careful fingers until your hands are free, the skin beneath pink and faintly marked from the pressure. He brings your wrists to his mouth and kisses the inside of each one, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Let me wash your hair," he says quietly, already reaching for the shampoo on the stone ledge, and you lean back against the warm wall and let him, the water cascading over you both, the steam soft and close and safe around you.

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🎹 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ഒ try me by the weeknd

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

the sun had risen on yet another content day. he would choose an outfit, then film half a dozen short-form videos to be uploaded over the next few days. usually a light-hearted opportunity for him to catch up with his colleagues, but the group name that a staff member had just uttered didn't ring a bell. like always, sunghoon's low screen time kept him out of the loop.

“new girl group, they're not too popular yet,” she explained as they walked down the hallway, “one of their members will teach you the dance for their debut song, then she'll do an enhypen challenge.”

sunghoon nodded, a piece of his heart breaking away as he imagined what kind of dance he would be forced to film for the group. he told himself that he could manage as long as there was no aegyo. the door to the dance room was opened for him and, this time, he couldn't miss you. elevator girl.

“s-sunghoon seonbae-nim,” you bowed, and he watched the flow of your hair as you did, “it's– it's nice to meet you.”

your eyes darted to the member of staff beside you, as if awaiting guidance, then back to him. you reminded him of a dog on a leash.

“i brought– we have a gift for you.”

taking the parcel held in your staff member’s hands, the rehearsed words tumbled from your lips. you tucked your hair into the crook behind your ear, trying to ignore your nerves. this was your first official interaction with an idol outside of your group, and for it to be a member of such a popular boy group was close to terrifying. he seemed even taller now than in the elevator, back when you could still keep some distance.

“it's our, uh, debut ep, i hope you enjoy it a lot.”

“ah, thank you,” sunghoon mumbled, accepting your present with a polite smile as if he would ever listen to it.

this was a new record of closeness between you two. now that you were not huddled in a corner, sunghoon could see your face clearly. he thought, if only in passing, that it was truly beautiful. like a garden of flowers, refreshing in its nature.

“sunghoon, she'll teach you the dance. could you move over there, please?”

his eyes locked onto the back of your knees as you shuffled into position, where the ring light cast a halo glow over your frame. the catchy, bubblegum tune of your group's track sounded through the vast and empty room.

“so, first you, um–” you made a movement with your arm. “you need to do like this, okay?”

sunghoon mirrored your actions, fighting a laugh at your obvious embarrassment. he'd been in those shoes before.

 “okay,” he nodded.

despite clear timidity, there was still a graceful charm to your dancing. you moved as part of the song, as if the melody possessed you and its vibrations travelled through your body. you were done before he realised it.

“uh, did you get it?”

“ah,” he drew out, furrowing his brows.

an apologetic grin grew on his face as he asked if you could show him again. of course, you accepted without question. the dance was simple, easy to remember, but sunghoon had just now discovered the joy of watching you dance. one more time couldn't hurt.

“i got it now. thank you.”

staff counted down, then sunghoon did the dance along with you, not missing a single step. the phone was turned to your faces for review, and you mustered the courage to ask for his opinion.

“is it, uhm, okay?”

since when, sunghoon wondered, were there this many galaxies in a person's eyes? yours were big with worry and bambi-like, waiting for approval from your senior.

“it's okay. you did a good job.”

“n-no, i didn't… it's only good because of you, but thank you.”

even as you rejected his compliment, your lips stretched into a bashful smile. he found that too cute, you were easy to tease.

“you're talented, really,” he insisted, “or do you think i'm lying?”

“no, no, never! i'm sorry!”

your pleased expression dropped and you glanced at the staff in panic. both women, however, were laughing.

“i was joking,” sunghoon clarified, “don't worry.”

he waited until your eyes returned to their usual diameter before continuing, “let's do my challenge now. do you know our song ‘knife'?”

you nodded, “yeah, but i don't know the dance.”

when you spoke, he could catch the tiniest sliver of the inside of your mouth, the black void between your teeth. you shifted your weight as you spoke and sunghoon tried to ignore the lengths of your legs below your skirt.

“can i touch you?”

he wished he could forever preserve your reaction to his question. your eyebrows pinned high above your eyes and your mouth parting, a confused whimper jumping out. 

“it's easier to teach you like that.”

“oh– oh! yes, okay,” you stuttered through a myriad of expressions, “you can, uh, touch me.”

his hand stretched out to you before you had finished speaking, fingers wrapping around your forearm. it almost burned your skin where he touched, as if he were a radiator. somehow, you had expected him to be colder. when he was close like this, you could see the dampness of sweat on his philtrum and hairline. strange because, to you, the room wasn't hot at all. 

“for my version, you start by doing this,” he guided. his touch was soft and intimate, like a whisper between lovers. warmth lingered wherever he had held. your wrists and your hips, they burned for him. you were his doll as he moved your limbs, autonomy only returned when his song began to play.

“let her try on her own,” your staff spoke up, after a disquieting amount of silence from both women. no more laughter. you did as she said and– despite not being to your satisfaction— your performance seemed perfect to them.

“but i don't think i got it down yet,” you mumbled with a small frown. your timing felt off, and you weren’t too sure on your expressions, but you must have just been overthinking it.

“no, it's great, right?”

“it's great,” the other woman agreed, “he doesn't need to teach you– you don't need to practice it anymore. let's film.”

after a meek nod, the countdown started. you moved beside him, a false confidence in front of the camera. it would be a bad look to perform another group's dance poorly. you shuddered at the mere thought of what the netizen comments would look like.

“that's a wrap. good job everyone.”

unlike the expected relief, there was a part of sunghoon that felt disappointed when filming stopped. you bowed and waved before leaving, sweet scent trailing behind you. he picked up your group's ep from the floor and hoped he'd be seeing you again soon. 

 -♡-

somehow, since those two encounters, sunghoon had found that you popped up in his mind more than he could explain. when he exercised his arms, doing his dumbbell curls, he would wonder if you were also working out elsewhere in the building. wonder if your schedules would soon melt into one another. the same way how winter snow melted into spring puddles. you could meet in the middle. if not, he would have to come to you.

album in his hands, sunghoon stared at the plastic-wrapped item. the cover art was pretty. curling text on a bright pink background. it was the queasy kind of cute one could associate with marble-eyed rainbow plushies. plasticky. the veins of his arm became more apparent as he flexed his hand, prying off the nylon wrap with his fingers. he couldn't believe himself as he did so, and he knew that you wouldn’t either. it was a courtesy gift, the gesture mattering more than the item, but here sunghoon was. twenty-three years old on his bed, hunched over the cd of some premature girl group. he ran the face of his finger across the sleeve, underlining the glittery silver words.

“heart explosion,” sunghoon scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek, “cute.”

he spread the album booklet open, paper contents falling onto his lap like ripe fruit falling from a tree. he would pick one up to have a taste of, why not? sunghoon closed his eyes, let the anticipation build within him and hammer through his chest. the smooth surface of a photocard was felt between his thumb and forefinger. he would gamble. if he pulled you, he reasoned, he had to get close to you no matter what. it was only his destiny that way.

in the second before he opened his eyes, sunghoon felt some sort of dread. some sinking in his heart. you had to be fated, had to be, because he couldn't count on elevators to get his fix of you. as light and colour filtered back into his view, so did the image of a girl. pigtails and a peace sign, complete with a timid smile. sunghoon hadn't noticed that he’d stopped breathing until he released one massive volume of air. he could not believe his luck.

  -♡-

“hyung, are you free today?”

among his members, sunghoon was known to cause the least trouble. he was respectful of everyone's boundaries and, although sunoo would disagree, he was never a real nuisance. he had earned the right to be an inconvenience, just this once.

heeseung looked up from his nintendo switch and pushed back the hair that had fallen over his eyes. its red had already washed out into something like an earthy purple, though he had just dyed it a few days ago.

“yeah,” heeseung shrugged, apprehensive as he stretched out the word, “why?”

sunghoon averted his gaze. night was approaching and the money had already been charged from his account. there was no use in beating around the bush.

“do you wanna go to a concert with me?”

heeseung's brows relaxed above his big eyes and he grew a smile.

“a concert? i thought jay didn't wanna work out with you or something,” he laughed, “yeah, i'll go with you. who are we seeing?”

“c-four.”

heeseung laughed until his saliva went down the wrong way, making him sit up straight on the couch and cough his lungs out.

“c-four,” he panted, “ah, that was a good one. you're funny.”

once he'd settled down, heeseung looked at sunghoon's face and realised there wasn't a hint of amusement. mouth in a straight line, no raised eyebrows.

“wait– you're serious? did you lose a bet or something?”

“are you coming with me or not? we have to leave before traffic gets too bad, and you need to hurry up and get dressed,” sunghoon grumbled before adding, “please.”

heeseung accepted, despite his confusion. he had never before seen sunghoon like this and it was, frankly, kind of cute to see the self-sufficient sunghoom ask heeseung to hang out with him. he would have to return to his animal crossing world later. for now, it was his responsibility to be a good friend.

 -♡-

the concert venue was on the more humble side. it allowed heeseung to remember his first real performance after the pandemic, the nerves and the unbelievable screams from the german crowd. the first time he was looked at like he was someone to be idolised.

sunghoon settled into his nosebleed seat beside heeseung. he would forever be grateful to the other man for coming with him. now it was less ‘sunghoon is a c-four superfan’ and more ‘senior idols cheer on the new hybe group during their concert.’ more wholesome.

in the time between now and when he had opened your ep, sunghoon had educated himself. your group had four members, of which you– unfortunately– had the least posts dedicated to online. it would surprise anyone to learn that three hour screen time park sunghoon had made a forum account, but to him, it was worth it. like remembering that his schedule would be starting late the next day, getting a notification for a post about you was what made his heart so much lighter. what made him smile that much brighter. it was nothing serious, really, how he felt about you. it was simply boredom and a care for his industry junior. 

overlapping conversations echoed through the dome as attendees shuffled into their seats. sunghoon wished he was surprised as the chairs filled with men his age or older. the guys who populated c-four’s forums, debating which music video from the ep had the best outfits or which member was better at aegyo. sunghoon only clicked on a post when you were the focus.

“do you know their names,” he asked, watching the stage intensely as he waited to catch sight of you.

“their names? uh, not really,” heeseung smiled, shaking his head, “but i know the song– explosion.”

“heart explosion,” sunghoon corrected with the slightest twitch of his eye.

“yeah, that. i hear that shit all the time, i could probably perform it,” heeseung joked, “i'll be the fourth member.”

“there already are four members, hyung.”

“really? i guess a trio would be too small to market.”

sunghoon couldn't blame his friend for not taking notice of each member. you were the only one that truly mattered, anyways. they were the backdrop. the background noise of snares and kick drums, whereas the voice that got stuck inside his head belonged to you. unforgettable.

blue and magenta lights flashed onto the stage as four girls walked forward. of course, sunghoon's eyes were on you alone. the schoolgirl-inspired stage outfit you had been dressed in: navy skirt, big bow, and your dolly makeup. you looked as perfect as a painting on the big screen, and sunghoon wished he could see you up close for himself. for now, he would settle for this. sunghoon saw, out of the corner of his eyes, heeseung doing a little dance in his seat as the opening song started to play.

“everyone!”

soft and light like a cloud. sunghoon could recognise your marshmallow-soft voice with his eyes closed. he would be keeping them wide open, however, as he had to keep staring at you.

“are you ready to have a great time?”

 -♡-

the dormitory seemed extra quiet after all the noise of the concert, like all sound had been sucked into a vacuum. like it was dead. that was what crossed sunghoon’s mind as he removed his shoes by the door, before heeseung spoke up.

“you know, that was funner than i thought it would be. i guess you have taste.”

sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, he just wanted to go to his room and see the photos uploaded by those lucky bastards in the front row. he hoped their cameras were better than his eyesight could ever be, that he could see you in excruciating detail.

“they're pretty cute, too,” he continued, “especially that one, you know.”

heeseung sucked in a breath and snapped his fingers, mind searching for an apt description.

“the one who did the intro,” he clarified, “with the pigtails.”

sunghoon paused in an instant, hand hovering above his door handle. he reminded himself to keep breathing, but the breaths were heavy as they pushed out of his nostrils. he reminded himself that heeseung was his friend who had just done him a big favour, who had given him another chance to see you. it wasn’t his fault you were charming. it was no one’s fault.

“you alright?”

“yeah,” sunghoon sighed, squeezing his eyes shut,“ i guess she is cute.”

he entered his room and locked the door, turning on his laptop. his chair creaked as he sat on it, waiting for the screen to light up from solid black.

 -♡-

fortune had smiled down sunghoon again. he wasn't looking for you, not even thinking of you that much, yet there you were. your head pounded from the overflow of synthetic lights and your measly amount of sleep. sunghoon noted the scrunch of your nose when you squinted your eyes. under the room's harsh brightness, he was sure he could make out each pore of your face, if only you were to come a little closer.

he wanted, so desperately, to be closer to you. everyone knew that opposite-sex friendships were strongly frowned upon, if not forbidden, but sunghoon could change the narrative. he wouldn’t be your friend, he would be your mentor. he had a sister, after all, it wouldn’t be that weird for him to relate with a younger female idol.

this broadcast would be his chance to establish a dynamic between you that the company could approve of, then it would be alright for him to stand by your side or in your shadow. it took him a few steps to get into that position.

“good morning.”

he knew it was cruel, but it was too amusing how you flinched and scrambled to bow for him.

“s-sunghoon seonbae-nim! good morning,” you rushed, “i'm sorry, i, uh, didn't see you.”

the shiny gloss on your lips made them plump like a cherry, sparkling like precious gemstones beneath harsh light. highlights and glitter by your eyes reminded sunghoon of the cover of your group's ep. they had dolled you up real nice and neat.

“have you learned your lines,” he asked, eyeing the script you clutched with manicured fingers.

“um, i think i have,” you smiled, and it was a sight for sunghoon's sore eyes, “i've been practicing since five in the morning.”

“five?”

his gasp had the upturned notes of a stifled laugh, he brought up his bushy brows as if truly stunned by the idea of an idol waking up early to practice.

“wow, i would never have guessed! you don't look tired,” he added, “you're glowing.”

“no, i'm not!”

it was the highest honour for you to be praised by sunghoon, an honour you felt undeserving of. you wished to hide your warm face behind your hands, but you couldn't risk smudging anything the makeup artists had worked so hard on.

“it's– it's just the makeup, really. i took a power nap while they were doing it,” you admitted with shy laughter. 

he loved watching how your face stretched to accommodate your smile, molding into a pretty picture of pure joy. how could he not be attracted to a thing so lovely?

“if you feel tired later, you should grab a coffee with me,” sunghoon shrugged and you froze. he wasn't perturbed, though, it wasn't like you could refuse him as your elder. you must still have been shy.

“or milk tea. you would like something sweet like that, wouldn’t you?”

he was sure of it. you were sweetness incarnate, so it only made sense. his dark oak pupils watched as yours darted around in search of direction from somebody. even when the ball was in your court, you could not act without the command of a coach.

“um, i'm not sure i can,” you mumbled, papers crumpling from your strengthened grip, “i'm so sorry.”

so it was as he guessed. you had gotten a scolding after he'd laid hands on you in the dance room, poor thing. he could imagine the tremble of your lip and the twitch of your nose tip as you sniffled in shame. a dumb rookie who didn't know any better.

“why not? i'll be paying, if that's the issue. does saturday work?”

sunghoon figured it made sense for him to interpret your refusal that way. he'd been there, six years ago, in a new group with full heart and an empty wallet. you would either spell the real problem out for him, or be too sheepish and accept. he was willing to bet his life on the latter, and lately, his luck had been beyond good.

“no, not an issue at all! you don't have to– i'm… uh, okay. i would be glad to… to do that.”

he smiled with all thirty-two of his white teeth, knowing that he would simply seem glad that you'd accepted his invitation. in fact, it was comedic to him how he could predict your every move like you were a character in a bad film.

“good. then i'll give you my number after this.”

as you nodded, a call of your name had you scampering away. he could now see how they had tied a ribbon in your hair for a look that was sickeningly sweet. sunghoon watched the silk fabric swim in the air as you rushed towards the voice.

 -♡-

 “i’m so excited for the comeback of this new group! how about you sunghoon?” the seasoned mc spoke her lines without missing a single beat, her face was friendly and her energy was lively. he hoped it would outshine his awkwardness. eyes trained on the camera lens, sunghoon stretched his mouth into a smile fit for a broadcast. he had spent hours in rehearsal going over his lines, yet he couldn’t shake off the habit of checking his cue cards.

“yes, my heart is racing! it may even explode,” he joked, suppressing the urge to cringe. it was nostalgic for him to be playing this role again. the kind of nostalgia you get from seeing a food that made you throw up.

“that’s right, everyone. today we are introducing a member of the sparkling new girl group– c-four! their debut ep, ‘heart explosion!’ released just a month ago!”

the crowd erupted into cheers and applause as the cameraman closed in on you. this was your time, just as you had practiced, but there were so many people. the lights were too bright. the stage was too big for you alone, but your other members would only appear during the performance. you were scared.

“b-boom! this is c-four,” you introduced yourself with large eyes on the lens, “it’s nice to meet you!”

“wow,” she drew out, smile not faltering for a moment, “how cute! everyone, be careful not to fall in love!”

“c-four’s charm definitely needs a warning,” sunghoon remarked, though in his opinion the charm was exclusive to you, “was your title track inspired by your dangerous power to make everyone fall in love?”

sunghoon. out of all the faces in the room, his was the one that you recognised. it was grounding. you knew those moles and full brows. his voice was familiar, even if the mc persona was not. you had practiced this. you should have been able to recite the words in your sleep, but there was something about the pressure of a hundred unfamiliar faces that made the lines evaporate from your mind. fear was hot and embarrassment burned. you needed an ice prince to cool your mind.

“yes,” as you nodded, you remembered to smile, “our ‘heart explosion!’ is not– not only about the fluttering feeling that you f-feel in your heart around the person you like, but also, uhm, also about how you can feel a love so strong that, uh, that it kind of explodes.”

“explodes? that sounds dangerous, doesn’t it, sunghoon?”

“scary,” he concurred, “could you show off the point dance of this explosive song?”

“we’ve practiced, so we’ll do it along with you. music cue!”

it was hard not to show surprise when sunghoon took your hand and brought you between himself and the female host. right in the centre, but you were sure that his presence would take most of the attention from you. who would want to look at you, when he was right there with his stupidly handsome face? what a relief it was for sunghoon to be by your side. you smiled at him, hoping it would convey your utter appreciation, and he returned it. you wished you could hold his hand for a little longer. you were already savouring its heat.

a catchy rhythm blasted from the loudspeakers in no time. the cameraman stepped back as the song built up to the chorus, and you prepared to hear the same fifteen second audio clip for the hundredth time this week. with warm skin and trembling fingers, you carried out the dance as best as you could. sways of your hips and turns of your head, doing justice to the pretty ribbon that danced alongside you.

“du-du-du, explosion!”

 you finished by making a heart with your two hands, mimicking an explosion by spreading them apart with wiggling fingers. a cute ending fairy.

“wow,” sunghoon remarked, “i definitely wasn’t that good when i started out.”

“yes, that was some lovely dancing! i’m sure everyone can’t wait to see c-four’s full performance. where can we watch it?”

“uhm, exciting performances from– from all your favourite groups, and even more interviews, so stay– stay tuned,” you urged, smiling bright at the camera, “it’s coming up soon!”  

you could once again breathe after having said your last line. sunghoon watched as your tense face relaxed into its usual softness like pudding springing back into shape. he hoped he had been good enough for you.

 -♡-

in the past few weeks, sunghoon's screen time had skyrocketed. he had to stay in the know about you. more accurately, about you and him. seeing a post of you was great, yes, but what brought him ecstasy like no other was anything with the both of you. there was a clear link between your rise in popularity and your association with him. before, you had been a name only remembered by your group's fanbase. the missable maknae. now, because of sunghoon, you were worth thinking of. you were worth being jealous of. only because of him, people could come to appreciate you. 

empty squares and captions loaded onto his grey screen, eventually filling with images and videos of his milk kitty. just yesterday was the broadcast, but you had been so beautiful then. your pictures flooded the forum like cherry blossoms bathing the stone pathway in pink petals.

his eyes fell onto the top post. there you were, and there he was. you looked towards him with a smile warm enough to seem intimate. your fingers were blurred by motion as they disconnected from his. it was exactly as he had planned. the caption read ‘there's obviously something going on between them’ and it had dozens of comments. it was likely that there had been an influx of his own fans, coming to debunk your relationship with him, but that was good. as long as there was deniability, he would not be separated from you by force. as had become routine to him, his mind went into focus mode to read through comments with maximum efficiency.

 ‘she looks shy around him lol cute’

‘did u see him at the concert??!’

‘sunghoon is mine tho’

‘the next it couple!!!’

‘we need more of them asap’

‘stfu you guys are all delusional. he's sm older than her that's literally gross.’

his mouth twitched. he would have blocked the last account in less than a second, were it not for another comment distracting him.

 ‘do u think theyve fucked yet’

there were three replies to it and he prayed they were not moral condemnations. his cursor hovered over the option to reveal them. perspiration hovering over his forehead, he clicked.

 ‘def unless hes crazy cus i would fuck her the sec i got her alone’

‘he's so lucky. ik she gave him her virginity :p’

‘oh fs. she was probably bleeding and crying when he put it in her tiny hole’

his cursor jittered around the screen as a result of his shaking fingers. he couldn't believe the perversity of the men in your so-called fanbase. what was more, he couldn't believe what it was doing to him. how earnestly he tried to keep his mind off of the things he craved to do to you. how could he, when it was described so vividly? he swallowed and did something he thought he never would: he hit ‘reply’. his fingers sped even quicker than his mind, darting between letter keys so he could get more fuel for his fire of burning desire.

‘how many times do you think they have done it?’

he commented before he could regret it. the heavy thumping of his heart served as a thrilling instrumental to this moment. he sat there, shifting from side to side in his chair as if it could give him even a fraction of his needed relief. his salvation came in the form of a notification. someone had replied to him that quickly. he wondered if it was a coincidence, or if they had been lurking as well. observing your entirety from a respectable distance.

‘often but sunghoons gotta initiate it every time. i can imagine her just being shy so hes gotta push her or hell die of blueballs lol’

both sides of his brain were at war. he hated knowing that there were these disgusting men thinking they had any right to imagine you in any impure scenarios. he loved being recognised as your romantic interest, especially in such detail. he wanted more.

‘that makes sense. do you think she is also shy in bed?’

‘with a girl like her who knows :/ usually the cute ones are the biggest sluts. maybe she lets sunghoon fuck her in the ass because shes just a big whore lololol’

his breathing paused. he scanned the words again and again. each time, growing even angrier. the audacity of this creep to call someone as innocent as you a slut. hot, dense air shot out through his nostrils and his thick eyebrows knitted closer. he wished he had the power to kill people through his screen, but all he could do was block the user after thoroughly insulting them.

‘piece of shit. how dare you call her a slut? is it not obvious to everyone in the world how pure she is? or are you just blind from thinking only with your tiny untouched dick? go fuck yourself before you die a virgin. afterwards, you should do us all a favour and kill yourself. make sure to do it where no one will ever have to see your slimy body. you're more useless than the dog shit she stepped on this morning.’

he felt his anger pulsating off of him in waves of heat. his matte black shirt was glued to his skin by sweat. he felt wet and sticky like an abandoned lollipop, gross. when he was brave enough to look down at his lap, his eyes grew wide. a dark patch was on his sweats, as if he had spilled water on himself, and the tent was large enough to be concerning. he needed to do something about it. like looking up to the sky in prayer, sunghoon looked back to his screen and saw a new reply.

‘this is her w him’

a link was attached to the short comment posted by another user, beckoning him like your sugary scent. his cursor hovered over the underlined blue text. he pushed his tongue into the inside of his cheek, waiting for desire to overtake him. the quiet sound of a click hit his eardrums as he inhaled, staring down the new tab opening on his laptop. he was off the deep end– opening random links without hesitation– and it was where he wanted to be, drowning in his draw to you.

the looping, grey circle vanished as video frames began to play. what got to him first was the noise. there was no build up, it started right in the middle as if he was late and had missed the start. he heard the sharp cry of pleasure that came from a woman, her face out of shot, and scrambled for his headphones. sunghoon couldn't imagine what would happen if his members were to find out about this.

her legs were bent and tucked up above her shoulders, giving a clear display of her pussy as it was pounded into. the man groped her body with his hand and she seemed tiny in comparison. it was too easy to think of her as you. he knew he could make you scream just like that. he could stretch you out just like that, make you fucking bleed.

he hadn't blinked, his eyes were glued to his screen, he hadn't even realised that his hand had snuck into his boxers. 

“ah, fuck,” he groaned, low enough in his throat to come out as carnal. he was painfully sensitive, hips jolting in his chair as he squeezed his hard dick. he needed it to be you, to imagine how clumsy you would be, what he gave himself was inconsistent and rough. precum flowed out from him, accentuating the wet ‘plap plap plap’ that sounded each time his fist travelled from tip to base.

the guilt that clawed at his heart only spurred him on, like some masochistic punishment. it was disgusting to think of you like this, he was disgusting, and yet he couldn't stop. he wanted you pure as snow, but at the same time, it was addictive to think of mixing red into the white. your innocence was what made you so lewd. there was nothing more obscene than a clear contrast. like biting into the forbidden fruit, the thrill mattered more than the taste. it was thrilling to envision disturbing your milky innocence, how you would never be the same after him. you could give him all that power.

“n-no,” cried the video girl, “don't– don't cum inside, please!”

fuck, she even stuttered just like you. the creaking stopped and her body remained still as it was filled up. a sharp ‘pop’ accompanied the emptying of her hole, creamy liquid oozing out between her folds without a dick to plug her up. she had been sullied. sunghoon bit down on his pink lip, humping into his palm as more groans spilled from him. he had to get his hands on you again. you were his to ruin. he discovered you first, was the first to notice you and the halo over your head. his precious, untainted thing. only he deserved you, even those useless perverts knew it.

the video had ended, but sunghoon didn't need it anymore. his mouth hung open as he relaxed into his chair, arm flexing as he cupped his dick. he thought of the glitter by your eyes and of the smile from your cherry lips. you would bleed and cry for him. fuck, he was so vile, but he knew he would find some way to forgive himself for this. for being the very kind of man he wanted to protect you from.

“i'm cumming, i'm cumming,” he whined, sweat from his forehead sliding down his nose. he stuck out his tongue and tasted the cool, salty liquid. this was his dedication to you. his eyelashes fluttered as his eyes rolled back, vision pure white as thick ropes of his release spurted free over his abdomen and wherever else it could reach. he saw your angelhood in his mind.

sunghoon's eyes were closed as he waited for his breathing to steady, only opening to see the mess he had made. he seriously had some cleaning up to do.

 -♡-

saturday morning came and sunghoon greeted it with open arms. he slathered shaving cream along his jaw, passing the razor blade over again and again, until he was baby smooth. he picked out a white long-sleeve shirt with blue lines, draped it over himself before applying his woody cologne. it was annoying how he would have to hide his face, he knew it looked good, but you would want him anyway. as long as he could guide you.

before he left, he grabbed the antiperspirant he had purchased before the broadcast and sprayed it in excess. better too have on too much than too little, especially when it came to you. he wasn't sure how to be near you without burning up. sunghoon now understood that you set him on fire, and he asked himself when you had started to mean that much to him.

 -♡-

daylight broke in through thin white curtains. the sun's golden glow spilled across the wooden table like splattered egg yolk, fitting for the café setting. a laminated menu waited for him, but sunghoon could only marvel at the angel sitting across from him.

dressed in soft whites, you could have been mistaken for heaven incarnate. homey and natural. he could tell you had gotten ready for him all on your own. your lips weren't as vibrant or glossy, your complexion not as uniform, and he adored it. you had braided a small section of your hair, it dangled forward as you buried your head in the menu. this was the version of yourself that you could control, that you had chosen, and you were giving it to sunghoon. just as pure, but in a different way. off the record honesty.

“may i take your order?”

sunghoon didn't miss how the waiter's gaze lingered on you before she looked to him, almost in confusion. in his dedication towards maintaining anonymity, his handsome face had been reduced to whatever existed below the nose. his navy blue yankees cap cast a deep shadow over his eyes, as though they had been censored. he was simply a mouth. pink lips and sharp teeth, ready to consume. it must have been a bizarre sight, this faceless man across from your beauty. he hoped it didn't look like you were for sale.

“could i just have a black coffee, please? thank you.”

as he spoke, his eyes remained on you. the menu had finally been lowered from your face, so he could once more admire it.

“may i please have a, uhm, a caramel macchiato? with– with chocolate chips, if that's okay,” you mumbled, focusing on your hands in your lap, “can i please, seonbae-nim?”

the quiver of your voice was sweeter than stevia. how you raised your eyes to him with a blink of curled eyelashes, nervously nibbling on your lip. 

“of course, anything you like.”

his mouth wobbled as he responded, giddy grin breaking free. his words were sincere. once you decided that you wanted his heart, he would rip it right out and serve it to you on a rose gold platter. blood would pool around the main dish like strawberry syrup, and he would watch with eager eyes as you took the first taste. anything you needed, he would find a way to give it to you.

“thank you so much,” you bowed, returning his smile, “you're so kind to me.”

sunghoon leaned in as the waiter walked away. the beating of his heart had come a punching into his chest. grabbing his leg, he ran his hand up and down his thigh, trying to shake off the heat. warm breaths floated from his parted lips, and it felt like they were not returning. like he was suffocating.

“am i? how?”

“uhm, well, you're always helping me. you– you were patient when filming content with me. i wouldn’t have been able to do the broadcast without you,” you admitted, thighs rubbing as you shifted awkwardly, “and now you're treating me to coffee. i'm so grateful to you.”

when his grin could grow no larger, laughter was sunghoon's next reaction.

“you're too cute, do you know that? if you like me that much, we should just become friends.”

you blinked with a warm face. caught off guard by his compliment, you shook your head only after processing it.

“really? i'm– i'm not, but thank you. i would be, uh, really happy if you were my friend.”

your voice lowered as you continued, “i don't really have any. my members don't– they don't like me a lot.”

the moment you revealed that, his smile dropped.

“how could they not like you?”

“they think… that i did stuff. to get in the group, i mean. because i'm– i’m not as good as them. i can't really sing like yoona or dance like mina. i'm, uh, a disappointment.”

almost as if to punctuate your point, your drinks were set onto the table with an audible ‘clink’. you took a picture for calorie tracking and– though the conversation topic had rid you of your appetite– you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around the green straw buried in whipped cream. sweet vanilla and espresso rushed through the tube into your waiting mouth. you smiled when the taste hit your tongue.

across from you, sunghoon's cup remained untouched as steam rose from the brown liquid. his mouth was a straight line and his brows were brought low above his eyes. he would have been in awe of your adorable reaction, were it not for what you had just said. his blood was cold and he was ready to spill someone else’s.

“are they bullying you? what do you mean by ‘stuff'? do they think that you're a whore?”

your eyes widened, both at sunghoon's rapid-fire questions and his blunt language. you stared at him with the straw still between your lips.

“is that why you hesitated to come out with me, you thought they would bully you more?”

“no, no! it's not like that. i understand them. they can't see why i… they don't think there's anything special about me. they're right, anyways.”

“they're dead wrong. look at me,” he demanded and you obeyed, “don't listen to anything they tell you, it's just jealousy. do you understand? from now on, you talk to me instead.”

his pull was undeniable, how his mouth stretched as he spoke and his fist above the table. you nodded once. then you continued as if in endless agreement. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but water had already gathered in your eyes. he waited for it to spill over and wet your pretty face.

 -♡-

as agreed over text, you waited for sunghoon outside of a jung district cinema by three in the afternoon. it felt dangerous with how sunlight shone onto you like a spotlight. big, cat eye sunglasses covered nearly half your face, and besides, you weren't popular enough for anyone to recognise. not yet, but you would make it someday. the aches in your joints and every shed tear would be worth it, when you had an entire stadium screaming for you. one day, you would be surrounded by love and support. fans could be family, right?

he was almost covered from head to toe, but you knew it was him in an instant. black hair beneath the brim and the elf-like pinkish ears sticking out, even the length of his neck was familiar to you. his shirt was a size too large. loose by his waist, but clinging a little tighter by the chest. a fraction of his long fingers peaked out of his long, draping sleeves. the wind hit your face as you rushed over to him.

“hey,” he greeted, cheeks dimpled by his sweet smile, “you look nice.”

“ah? uhm, thank you,” you murmured with relief. 

it took you hours to get ready, so you were more than glad to hear that. you were ready to regret the skirt you wore, baby pink and polka-dotted, cute but a bit too short. if sunghoon liked it, however, you loved it.

as they were barely covered by the tiny length of fabric, sunghoon struggled to keep his eyes off of your legs. all that warm skin and flesh, too spotless for him to defile with touch or lingering gazes. he fixed his eyes on your face, the only view better than that of your legs.

“let's go inside, the movie starts soon.”

he interlocked your pinky finger with his and led you into the building. you shifted in guilt as he ordered your tickets and snacks, but he was your elder and you were in debt to your label until your group paid off the cost of debuting. it only made sense for him to pay, despite your embarrassment over it.

“here, for you.”

sunghoon handed you a bucket of popcorn with one hand. two thousand calories of heated kernels. you trapped the striped box between your chest and forearm, not wanting to stop the minimalist hand-holding between yourself and sunghoon. the scents of salt, caramel, and buttery goodness all wafted up into your nostrils. they left a pleased look on your face as the two of you walked to room four of the cinema.

your eyes landed on sunghoon’s profile as advertisements were screened. you followed the steep slope of his nose bridge, the heart-like curve of his lips, his angular jaw and the protruding adam’s apple it connected to. it became clear to you that you would never again see beauty like his. you were nervous to talk to anyone, but it was daunting just to look at him. close to exhilarating.

sunghoon let you stare. you could be infatuated with him how he was with you. like nothing else was worth seeing. when you were invested enough in the film, he would be staring, too. he plunged his fingers into the popcorn bucket, smell and sound increasing as the grains shuffled around, then brought one to your mouth. there was salt on your lips and sunghoon didn’t smile until he heard that satisfying crunch.

“is it good?”

as you looked at him in his ecstasy, you found it kind of funny how he had fang-like canines, yet front teeth like a bunny’s, like some dental contradiction. you wondered when you had started to notice things like that. sunghoon took your smile as confirmation and fished out more popcorn for you. his finger pads were wetted by the inside of your lip. they felt natural in your mouth.

“mhm, yesh,” you hummed as his finger tugged down your lip. “it’s– it’s really good, hoon.”

he could have been the poster child for happiness with a smile like that. the type that thinned out his lips and eyes, mouth stretched so wide it contoured his cheekbones. you hadn’t even meant to call him that, but you were comfortable by his side. it felt safe, and you beamed back at him.

 -♡-

the lies were getting outrageous now. you knew that your staff knew you and sunghoon were cozying up to each other. you were too dressed up for each ‘supermarket visit’ and seemed too giddy for someone who was meant to go see a movie alone. had you forgotten they had your location? then, the cherry on your cake of bullshit, the photos. you were naïve to assume no one cared enough about you to snap pictures. sunghoon's caps and masks may have been a sufficient disguise from outsiders, but overzealous fans and anyone within the company could recognise him from the photos. it was good publicity, however, so no one interrupted. sunghoon was great for your image. made people take notice of you, brought out the most marketable aspects of your personality– the innocent shyness.

it was trickier in sunghoon's case, given the possessive nature of his fanbase, but he seemed fit to handle himself. he knew how to act to keep everyone happy, knew how he needed to present your relationship with him. he had simply adopted his cute junior and was being the mentor that he never had as a beginner. never mind his lack of denial towards any romantic speculation, he knew that it was simply better to exercise silence in those cases. wait for the rumours to fizzle out on their own. so long as funeral wreaths weren't yet sent to the company building, staff figured they could let you two play.

 -♡-

it was six in the morning. sunghoon was on his phone as he brushed his teeth– a bad habit he recently picked up– scrolling on an online forum for your group. he was almost robotic, swiping until he saw your face, your cute face. it was obvious why you had been nicknamed ‘milk kitty’, stupid and accurate. you were pure and skittish. shaking like milk and he had to see you again.

he brushed until his toothpaste lost taste, foam running down his arm, hand cramping up the slightest bit. his gums had started bleeding. he just wanted to see one more post about you. one more capture of your smiling face, and he could leave the sink.

 -♡-

aside from your members, you saw park sunghoon more than anyone else these days. he would take you out for coffee, dressed inconspicuously each time. talking about mundane stuff like english lessons and new choreographies, you would swirl your delicious, caffeine-filled caramel treat before indulging. never mind how your manager didn't approve of the excess two hundred and fifty calories. you could always skip dinner, and sunghoon said you'd burn them off as you walked from place to place to meet him. cafés, concerts, cinemas, you saw him so often it was as if the two of you were…

“your perfume,” he muttered, voice drowned out by the racing rain. it was a sudden downpour, unpredicted by the weather forecasts you always checked before making a plan. in the few times you could meet up, it would be a shame for the weather to squander them. you had found cover under the slanted ceramic roof of a brick building. it looked abandoned. your back was against the coarse wall– you would be damned to mess up your hair– and sunghoon stood at your front. he shielded you from any rain the wind could blow your way.

“did you change your perfume?”

unlike you, sunghoon's hair was soaked through. he had given you his baseball cap in an effort to protect the hair you had so cutely styled for him. the water had dyed his hair strands a deeper black, tendrils of shadow flat against his cheeks and nose. water dripped down from the ends of his hair, and transparent droplets freckled his face. his focus was solely on you despite this.

“uh, yeah. i did,” you confirmed, “i used the old one pretty often, didn't– didn't want it to get stale. they're both pretty, uhm, pretty similar though.”

grabbing your forearms, he leaned in closer to your voice as you spoke. that was what you thought, until his head was a mere centimetre from your neck. your skin felt his shaky breaths and the beads of water that fell from him onto the shoulder that your sweater left exposed. he savoured your scent with each intake of breath.

you didn't tilt your head. you watched how the outside world had become a grey haze behind pouring rain and wondered if you would see the sun again soon. if maybe it could be okay for you to be with sunghoon.

“this one's less lactonic,” he noted, voice tickling your wet skin, “where's my milk kitty?”

he must have had a good nose, you thought. his remark would have made you giggle, but there was something heavier than the rain and it was in your heart.

“hey, hoon.”

your speech faltered each time you addressed him informally, but there were few things that made him happier than your doing that. you remembered in detail how his smile would grow until his nose scrunched and his fangs were visible. his joy was your validation, so you continued,

“do you… uhm…”

you blamed your loss of focus on the fact you could feel each breath he took against your skin. your hands trembled at your sides and you clenched them as if that would give you courage.

“do you like– like me?”

the blowing of air onto your shoulder ceased. his grip was starting to hurt, then he let go. sunghoon's figure grew to its full height as he lifted his head. his face seemed even wetter than it had been, before you found shelter from the rain, and there was a smile beneath his flushed nose.

 “don't you know i'm your biggest fan? i admire you more than anyone else.”

 -♡-

comeback season meant he would have no time to sleep, no time to breath, and– worst of all– no time for you. waking up at five, back in bed past midnight. between dance rehearsals, recording sessions, and content creation, sunghoon had forgotten how it felt to be without a headache. it was unscientific, like washing his hands three times for good luck, but sunghoon swore you were the only cure. besides his painkillers, of course.

he texted you whenever he could, shrugging off remarks from his members about how he had become glued to his phone lately. bliss was when you texted him back. he savoured your every word, waited for it to travel from his expanded pupils to his quivering heart. the rosy muscle where he lodged his thoughts and love for you. sunghoon struggled to fathom how he lived before you came into his life. he thought that maybe he simply hadn’t been living at all.

the few times where he could get away from the noise, in the bathroom or his bedroom, he would hold you with unmoving eyes. yours did not move either, could not, considering how you were simply a photograph. still, as sunghoon surveyed the picture beneath the led light glare being cast onto its plastic cover, he could catch wind of your scent. like chamomile or lavender, he breathed you in and was calm. though his clammy hands would beg to differ, though his heart could not beat any quicker, sunghoon was calm.

you were his escape from every stressful moment. his warm glass of milk before bed and anything else. he couldn’t bear to have you out of his reach. he would rather curl his fingers around the cup and squeeze until it shattered, the warmth of your liquid coating him as his hand bled. sunghoon wondered what kind of colour it made, when pure white washed over dirty red.

he reminded himself that soon, freedom would belong to him as much as you did. thinking of your modest smile gave him the strength to wait once more to see you.

 -♡-

in its glory of seventeen square metres, your studio apartment was nothing to scoff at. for only three hundred thousand won a month, you could live like a queen with air conditioning and even a washing machine! you had spent a ridiculous amount of time saving up for this treasure. but for some odd reason, as you re-arranged the pillows on your floor mattress, you felt ashamed knowing that sunghoon would be knocking at your door soon.

you thought maybe it would be better to show him the more charming aspects of jungnang district, like the rose garden or the dongbu market, anything was better than the glorified prison cell you called home. but the hell in prison was other people. at least here, you were safe from the vitriol of your members and staff. you questioned when their mild disdain for you grew into hatred. was it when you started seeing sunghoon? your phone buzzed and you rushed to the sink to pick it up. it was a text from him.

‘i’m here.’

you patted down your outfit as you stood waiting for him at the wood door. you had not yet grown used to it. he knocked and you answered. there was no need for anonymity in this space with only the two of you. he was his uncovered self, raw for you.

“uh, welcome,” you muttered.

he could see the whole apartment from one step inside. you trusted him enough to invite him over to this place that was just for you. the whole place smelled like you. he wished the smell could condense into a liquid so he could drink you right up, feel the sweet milk flow over his tongue. sunghoon surrounded you with his big arms and pulled you in until your face hit his chest. you melted into him, breathing in the earth and timber and sweat. you were right where you belonged. your heart deflated when he finally pulled back.

“is this it?”

he stepped further inside, dropping onto your mattress with a slight bounce. the force made your pillows shake. upon a second glance, sunghoon noticed how your current attire contrasted with everything else he had seen you in.

“hey, you look different,” he voiced, his eyes raking over you. sheer black socks that stretched up to your thighs and black lace garters to match. your top was low cut, clinging to your torso, and even your makeup seemed more intense. ‘different’ was an understatement, you were someone else entirely. he wondered if you were coming on to him.

“do you– do you like it, hoonie?”

that was new. this was all new. sunghoon froze as you fell beside him on the mattress, your thigh pressed against his and his heart dropped. fuck, what was happening? he shut his legs and looked down at his lap. your fingers held his chin and you looked to him in expectation, wetting your plump lips. it was so hot in your apartment, like even the air he was breathing had been toasted and it kept cycling through his body, only getting warmer each time.

“does it, uhm, does it make you wanna t-touch me?”

“shit– what are you doing?”

you frowned and sunghoon cursed at how the sight made him even harder. this was so, so wrong. he had to be dreaming. lust-induced madness from his refusal to again defile you in his mind. guilt had been eating at him since then, screaming that even he didn’t deserve you, but he didn’t want to listen.

“you don’t like it? it’s, uh, it’s c-four’s next concept,” you explained, avoiding his gaze and the shame in your belly, “something cool and, uhm, sexy.”

sunghoon was facing double disappointment as he looked down at his damp palms. in himself, for his dry mouth and leaking tip, and in your label. were they really just going to hand you out in lingerie on a silver platter for any pervert to enjoy?

“no,” he replied, shaking his head, “no, you can’t do it. you’re too young.”

you were his peace. you were his innocent, pure milk, free from the permanent stains of immorality. he would not let anyone ruin your image. he thought of those old creeps and their limp dicks, salivating over all the skin you would expose to them. he thought of all the degenerates waiting to call you a whore, wanting you to be one for them. he would rather die than let you grant their filthy wishes.

“it’s, uh, not really– not really my choice,” you mumbled, quiet voice interwoven with concern, “are you mad at me?”

all his anger vanished once you said that, like you had taken a syringe and drawn out all his boiling blood.

“no, no, angel,” he murmured, pulling you into him once again, “i’ll never be mad at you, okay?”

sunghoon held you close and contemplated on what he could do with his rage, on how he could save you. he would redeem the both of you, keep you far from the fatal clutches of debauchery.

 -♡-

sunghoon had not turned on his laptop in weeks. he was scared of what he would see. any discussion about c-four’s imminent comeback would make him sick to his stomach. snippets of songs and lyrics that swam in a sea of sexuality. they were really going to take you away from him, turn you into someone unrecognisable. sunghoon kept growing more anxious, knowing that this would happen, clutching his pillow as his head spun. he could hardly catch any rest and he regretted the times when he did.

there was no greater torment that thoughts one could not control. the dreams had only gotten more vivid as time counted down. behind heavy eyelids, he had visions of dirty hands on you. a trail of mud from your breasts to your thighs. it was the day of your comeback and you squirmed as they tore off your trampy clothes. they would surround you like flies on a slab of meat, until you were nothing but the pile of bodies crawling on top of you. sunghoon would jolt awake, chest heaving and perspiration running down his brows, and pray to never fall back asleep. not when all he could see was your dim fate. the fate he had to save you from, but he was running out of time.

sunghoon limped out of bed and into the kitchen, as quiet as death. he pulled open the medicine cabinet and used his phone’s flashlight to see through the darkness, squinting as he pushed containers aside until he could grab what he needed. what both of you did.

clutching them tight, he shook the bottles to remind himself of the weight they held. his insomnia medication and the painkillers he started buying when tour lengths had stretched from months to over a year. back then, he didn’t even have you to lift his spirits. all he had were these white tablets. they had proved their use once and he knew that they could be useful again. they were the key to your escape. sunghoon loved you enough to save you from destruction, because he loved you more than anything. purity was delicate, he reminded himself, so he could not let your soul be tainted.

sunghoon was stumbling, yet determined, as he escaped from the dormitory. he breathed in the crisp breeze and savoured the bright orange city lights of seoul as he waited with his arm out, until a taxi passed by. he paid the high fare for his late-night drive and was then on his way to jungnang district. he did not sleep in the car as the adrenaline kept him awake, though it felt like his eyes were burning.

 -♡-

it was past your bed time as you tried to like what you saw in the mirror, under the sterile lights of your apartment. the maturity of your tight-fitting clothes and the sensuality of this new aesthetic. you were supposed to get comfortable in it before going on stage. it would make it easier to really sell the fantasy, but it felt like a stranger’s skin. 

you jumped at the door’s creaking. had you left it unlocked? you saw sunghoon step inside and wondered when surprise visits had become a thing between you and him. maybe he had come to cheer you on. after all, your comeback stage was tomorrow. all your weeks of training would come to fruition in less than twenty-four hours. you weren’t sure if your stomach churned from excitement or fear.

“suh… sunghoon,” you gasped, “i wasn’t expecting you at all!”

you would have changed if you knew he would be coming. you were already feeling embarrassed, remembering what had transpired the last time he saw you in these clothes. what were you thinking, trying to get into your idol character like that? it wasn’t as if making a move on him would transform you into this confident being who was ready to strut around in skimpy clothes like this. you still weren’t mentally prepared for tomorrow.

“sorry, i just needed to see you.”

the words would have felt romantic if not for that look on his face, like there was nothing behind his eyes. he walked over to you and you waited for his embrace. it never came.

“are you ready for tomorrow,” he asked and, as he spoke, you glanced at the small orange jars in his hands. strange candy.

“no, not– not really,” you confessed, “can i be, uhm, honest with you?”

he nodded without the smile you had grown to expect from him, wordlessly. his calm was disquieting. for a man who had showed up at your place out of the blue, he didn’t even seem to have a real reason to do so.

 “i, uh… sunghoon, it’s not me.”

your voice cracked. you thought your heart had done the same. you blinked quickly and water flowed down from your eyes. 

“it’s not me, it’s not me,” you repeated, holding him as you sobbed, “i don’t wanna do this. they’re all gonna… gonna laugh at me and– and my family, what will they think? it’s not like they ever… ever approved of this. it’s– they’ll really give up on m-me after this. i’m not… they all call me a slut, but it’s– it’s not true. it’s not me!”

you could not hear the sound of bottles opening nor the pills being shaken out of them due to your wailing. you only looked up when your cries had softened into small sniffles. you weren’t sure why, but sunghoon was smiling. 

he grabbed your jaw and you were ready to finally have your first kiss. by now, however, you should have known that you could not predict sunghoon at all. like a modern retelling of your first cinema date, sunghoon’s fingers pushed past your lips. deeper, deeper, brushing your tonsils and hitting the back of your throat. you gagged around them, rejecting the intrusion and the bitter taste of the thick tablets that rushed down your oesophagus. you heaved in an effort to get them out, but sunghoon only pushed them further back down, his hand trembling in your mouth.

“shh, baby, shh. i’ll fix it, okay? i’m going to fix it all.”

his saliva-coated fingers pulled out of your mouth and you gasped and coughed with a pounding heart. it hurt. your chest hurt like he had punched it, your mouth was sore from how sunghoon had violated it, your throat felt clogged. 

“what did–” you hacked and spit ran down your chin. “–did you do?!”

your tiny pupils witnessed as sunghoon poured the remaining pills into his mouth and swallowed. his skin glistened from its dampness and his fingers uncurled around the bottles. they both clattered on the floor, a dull noise sounding through the hollow plastic.

“it’s not gonna hurt, it’s okay,” sunghoon assured, his calm expression unwavering even as his eyelids grew heavy. 

the world was spinning and you stumbled towards whatever could support your weight. as you gripped the counter and hunched over it, you felt sunghoon’s arms wrapping around you. he planted warmth on your temple with a kiss, what you'd been waiting for, and his voice was muffled by the sound of your slowing heartbeat. you heard him as you went limp and the world faded to black.

“i don’t think i ever told you properly, but… i like you.”

it felt nice for him to finally tell you his feelings, but he was sure it had been obvious for some time now. sunghoon smiled wider to himself, relieved that he had saved you from corruption, then he was soon by your side on the floor. it didn’t hurt when his body hit the hard wood. it only felt like peace.

for the first time, he was next to you and his heart was not racing. even his sweat had dried. your cold bodies sprawled out beside the mattress in one perfectly still and dry moment, its purity preserved eternally. because love was forever, and there was nothing in the world purer than love.

DELUXE CONTENT ! ( pure smut is my apology for the trauma ) wc 1766 Bonus Scene: "Does it make you wanna touch me?"

“shit, yeah, it does,” sunghoon confessed, eyes lowering from your face, those lips begging for his kisses, to the curve of your breasts. you had never been like this before and he was almost tempted to pinch himself, but he was even more tempted by you. he was not self-loathing enough to willingly wake up from his own fantasy. if this was all in his head, then it wouldn’t matter what he did to you. 

“okay,” you breathed, close enough for him to feel it on his warm skin, “i, uh, i want you to. please?”

sunghoon couldn’t believe you were asking, he should have been the one begging for just one taste of heaven from you. he enveloped your thigh with his large hand, brought you into his lap, and made your lips pucker by grabbing your face.

“have you ever done this before?”

it was silly of him to ask, he knew that, but he wanted to hear you say it. wanted it to come from your mouth, not online speculation, that he was the only one who got to do this to you. the one who got to stain you with his dirty love.

“um, no, never,” you admitted, biting your lip as you looked away, “it’s only you, hoon.”

there you went with that nickname again. you played the role of a seductress too easily. your front teeth sunk into your lip, fanning eyelashes that accentuated the innocent beauty of your face, your skin that was smooth and untouched. he would abandon everything he believed in just to have you right now.

his palm rubbed your thigh as his other hand cupped your chin. teasing you, his lips met the tip of your nose, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth before he kissed you properly. it was such a struggle not to dive in immediately. he focused on the cherry taste of your lip gloss with closed eyes, let the weight of this moment sink into him.

“you’re so sweet,” he hummed, his tongue giving kitten licks to your lips until they opened. the hand, which before held your chin, slid down to the base of your neck. his thumb applied a little pressure onto your throat. you shifted on his thigh, gasping softly as he explored your mouth. the cotton material of your underwear, overwhelmed and softened by your arousal, clung tighter to the shape of your pussy as you moved. it was like you could feel him directly.

“fuck, baby, don’t do that,” sunghoon rasped, “it’s distracting. i want to make this last.”

sunghoon could never be ungrateful. in the moment that he had been waiting for, he couldn’t rush through it as if it meant nothing. you were finally his and it was beyond anything he had imagined in the past. vivid, tangible. his fingers pinched the fabric of your socks. he stretched them tight before letting it snap back onto your flesh, below your garter, the sting making you wince.

“sorry,” you whimpered, your lips still touching his, “can you, uh, touch me more, please?”

“attagirl,” he praised, “asking me so nicely. i'll give you what you need, okay?”

you were pushed down into the mattress after his hands landed on your shoulders, his tongue delving back into your mouth as he began to push his hips against yours. feeling his hard dick rub you through your clothes had you gasping. your fingers sunk into his smooth black hair. without meaning to, you tugged a tuft of it and he whimpered into your mouth.

“ah, fuck… can’t wait anymore,” he whined as he pulled his face back from yours, your lips making a soft sound after disconnecting. as you swallowed, you wondered if it was sunghoon’s spit going down your throat.

despite the inconvenience, he wanted to keep you in these clothes. the longer he saw you in them, the longer it would stay in his memory. this day that he never, never wanted to forget. the day you gave yourself to him in full. he stuck his hand beneath your skirt and pulled down your underwear. the black fabric hung from his fingers as he inspected it with furrowed brows. 

“a thong?”

“i, uh… i thought it fit the vibe,” you mumbled, with a flustered pout, and he forced down his laughter. he couldn’t mock you for trying to be sexy, not when it was clearly working on him.

sunghoon lifted your skirt for a better view of your wet pussy. he spread the lips with two fingers, watching your viscous arousal flow out. he bit his tongue, scared he would bury his head between your thighs and never leave. your needy cry of his name told him his plans would have to wait for another day.

“h-hoon, please…”

he could admit that he loved hearing you beg, loved how you were his docile doll. you heeded his every word, and he could never tell you no. you were tethered to one another by devotional love.

“aw, does it hurt, angel? do you want me to make it feel good?”

as you nodded, sunghoon was already unzipping his pants. he knew it was cruel to not prepare you properly, but it was also cruel for him to ignore his own need. the need that had been throbbing in his pants for the past few minutes, leading to him making a mess in his boxers. he pulled out his dick and finally let it breathe. thick and heavy in his hand. it was angry after being left unattended for so long, so the tip had flushed red.

sunghoon spread your pretty legs and bunched your skirt up further, gripping the folds of fabric in one hand as he admired the view of his dick brushing against your pussy lips, being bathed in your cream.

“breathe,” he guided, pushing the tip inside.

your mouth fell open from the stretch, no air escaping as he pushed in deeper. you struggled to welcome his size, your hands scratching at his back. sunghoon let you take him slowly, let his dick brush past every ridge, until it could go no further.

“there you go,” he groaned, hypnotised by the tight squeeze of your hole, “can i move now– shit!”

he willed himself not to cum when you clenched around him, your body still trying to adjust. sweat from his efforts travelled down the slope of his nose, dripping down onto your face.

“uh, wait,” you asked, not yet used to the stretch of having his dick inside of you, your slick spurting onto it. 

“o-okay, i think it’s okay now.”

sunghoon was slow to pull out, but fast to push back in. he set this fast rhythm, pounding into you as you gasped. he was able to thrust into you at the perfect angle each time, your cries of his name only getting louder each time. it hurt so sweet, your legs around his waist as you drew him in even closer, tension in your bulging womb.

“you feel so good, baby, so damn tight. do you like it?”

“uh huh,” you whined, your hand going to his hair as you pulled him in for more kisses. you were greedy for him.

there was no particular taste, just the feeling of his mouth’s textures and the remnants of your cherry lip gloss, but it was warm. your whole body was hot. the cool feel of sweat forming hung above your forehead. 

sunghoon broke the kiss to see your breasts better after they had spilled out of the tiny top you wore, shaken free as your body experienced the force of his thrusts. his mouth latched onto one, his wet tongue attacking your nipple, and pushed down lightly on your stomach’s bulge. your hoarse throat struggled to carry your scream.

“ah– ah– sunghoon, wait!”

he didn’t listen. he had to be fair, giving equal attention to both of the stiff peaks, not letting up until they were both covered in his saliva. as you jolted from your sensitivity, you only pushed more of your cleavage into his mouth. he bit down, and you squeezed his dick so hard that he shuddered. you felt it building up inside of you, your need for release.

“stop,” you warned, drool flowing from the corner of your mouth, “i think– i think i’m gonna pee…”

you tried to see him through the curtain of your lashes as your eyes closed, thighs squeezing around his waist. the man who said he would be your friend, who admired you above everyone else, who was moulding your insides to his shape. you welcomed him even deeper as your arousal reached its limit, feeling almost like he was tearing you apart, your mouth widening in tandem. your tongue peaked out from between your swollen lips.

“that’s good, angel,” sunghoon coaxed, “let it happen. let me make you come.”

he kept pumping his dick into you, kept stimulating your breasts with his tongue, and brought his fingers to play with your clit. your eyes rolled back as you screamed his name, your orgasm crashing over you. you looked precious as it happened, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. sunghoon knew he didn’t deserve this, but it was his anyways. if he’d already gone this far, why not go all the way?

“tell me i don’t deserve you,” sunghoon panted, pushing his head into your neck until your scent flooded his senses. until everything besides you disappeared to a place his mind could not reach. all he could think of was you. your delicate fingers buried in his hair, your skin’s sweet taste on his tongue, your pretty pussy puffed up by him. enthralled by your beauty, sunghoon wondered what right a man had to fuck an angel.

“b-but you do deserve me, hoon,” you argued as his mean tongue lapped at the sensitive area above your pulse, forcing your clench around him to tighten. when everyone else had rejected you, you had sunghoon’s love. he was even more than your friend, more than your admirer, he was your family.

“you’re the only man for me.”

sunghoon let out a groan as he pushed in until he hit your cervix, let his hot cum fill you up. now, he had ruined you properly. he looked down from your glowing face to where your pussy was plugged up by his dick. sunghoon surveyed your body as it shuddered from the aftershocks and, amidst the mix of fluids that flowed down his length from your hole, he was not satisfied until he spotted that unmistakable red.

okay that's it !! thank you so much for reading all the way to the end, i love you with all my heart. i hope you rlly rlly rlly rlly REALLY liked it !! mwah ^.^

After that, the attic became sacred. You got too shy to climb those stairs again, but it existed. Every time you passed the door, the walls remembered too.

So from fifth grade to ninth, you were inseparable. Everyone marveled that you alone could tell them apart—teachers, friends, even their parents sometimes mixed them up, but not you. Not their precious doll.

It was as if an invisible string tied you to them, some instinct that sharpened whenever you looked at their faces. You knew the curve of Heeseung’s smile when he was about to make trouble, and you knew the way Heesu’s eyes darted away when he wanted to say something but swallowed it instead. You felt like you had a power no one else did, and for a long time you thought it made you just as special as they were.

Maybe it was the countless hours—nights where you fell asleep to the sound of their voices, always keeping your attention on them while they made sure you never wanted to look away.

You catalogued their smallest habits: the way Heeseung cracked his knuckles before a lie, the way Heesu’s left thumb rubbed slow circles on your wrist when he was nervous.

Maybe it was their warmth too—how each of them felt different when their hands brushed yours during games, or when they hugged you goodnight and got too lazy to leave, collapsing across your bed like it was theirs all along.

Heeseung. He was louder. Confident. A lightning strike in human form. One flick of his fingers, one lazy smirk, and hearts detonated—yours included. Nobody refused him. Especially not you.

Heesu. Quieter. Steadier. The soft-eyed boy behind bangs and glasses you wanted to cradle like something breakable. He could hush a storm with a single look, make the world feel safe enough to breathe.

Simple, right? You loved them both—different flavors of the same addiction. No harm could come of it… until tenth grade came and everything changed.

Suddenly everyone could tell them apart. Heeseung bleached his hair in a burgundy shade, punched holes through his ears. His name exploded in hallway gossip, and with each rumor a fresh body count, every fling a carbon copy of you: same hair length, same height, same doe-eyed stare.

Why not me, then?

They all looked like you. They all were you, just disposable version, unshared ones with Heesu.

And Heesu, he burrowed deeper. Books, study groups, genius-club lock-ins. Even if he still texts at 2 a.m., had low-key hangouts with you that lasted until dawn. He became your anchor, buried so deep you’d need a shovel and a prayer to dig him out of this zone.

Life became… Normal again. Boring, like it was before them.

So the three of you rocketed in opposite directions, weren’t orbiting the same little life anymore. There doll had been shoved back into the attic to rot, dust in her joints, cobwebs for hair. How dare they think playing with dolls wasn’t their thing anymore.

You had no choise but to fake normality too. You scraped together new friends, even snagged a sweet religious boy, who kissed you like he was terrified of smudging the glaze on your porcelain skin.

But Heeseung and Heesu hated it.

Hated the sight of you breathing without their permission, hated that you didn’t flinch for their touch anymore.

They glared every time his chaste lips and hands grazed your cheek. Oh those two sets of identical eyes burning every inch of you. Fuck, it was the only pulse in your chest that still proved you weren’t made of nothing : a frantic, guilty boom, boom, boom, screaming I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m someone’s.

But what could they do? That was the consequence of letting go of your wrist.

Heeseung turned untouchable, perched on a pedestal that required a ladder and a blood sacrifice. Heesu became the ride-or-die wallflower confidant you spilled everything to.

Except…

That one thing. That… Heeseung still slipped into your room after midnight. That every time Heeseung entered a place, your heart did backflips and your ears betrayed you crimson in a defferent way… It’d be a knife in Heesu’s back. Worse—it’d shred the last thread stitching your trio together.

So you swallowed it. Bitter pills, for days, or month? When did it start again? You just remember that it was a summer afternoon. Golden light dripping down the walls, shadows clawing up your bed. Heeseung was sprawled across your sheets like he owned them—owned you—flipping through your sketchbook without asking.

“Stop, Hee!” You lunged, joining him on pale pink sheets.

He smirked, tapping a sloppy portrait. “Made me ugly on purpose, hm? Forgot the piercings again?”

“It’s not—” Your voice cracked. “It’s not you.”

Heeseung blocked your wirst with one lazy arm, eyes narrowing. “Why not me?” He leaned in, breath ghosting your lips. “Don’t I look better than Heesu? Aren’t I your favorite?” He was pouting, just like a kid but—

Your gaze snagged on his mouth, then flicked up when you realised what he was doing. Heeseung was challenging you. In amusement. In hunger.

It was a first, when the too of you were alone.

And you shattered that easly, like an addict. In million of soft petals starting to rot the second he grazed your lower lips with his thumb, removing the gloss your boyfriend offered you that day.

“I… I think I like you, Hee.”

The words tasted like poison—bitter, instant regret that didn’t even capture what you really meant to spill, what you really wanted to express.

But Heeseung didn’t laugh. Didn’t mock you the way you expected.

He just tilted his head, dark stars glittering in those dangerous eyes, a strange smirk curling the corner of his mouth. Closed the gap until your lips brushed, and whispered, “Then show me, Dollface. You first.”

So you did.

A reckless, stupid kiss—barely a graze, a dare.

Go on, Lee Heeseung. Do something about it.

And fuck, he did.

He crashed into you like he’d been starving for a decade. Lips brutal, tongue forcing entry, stealing your air. One hand clamped your throat—just enough to make your pulse riot. The other yanked your hip flush, grinding slow, deliberate, so you felt every inch of what you did to him.

Not a first kiss. A fucking takeover. The attic games didn’t count, yeah? This was your first.

You wanted this to be.

Maybe it would finally crack the porcelain out of you, crack the grey glaze of your life, turn the doll into a woman—alive and real.

You froze, a porcelain statue mid-shatter, breath caught in your throat like a scream you’d never let out. He pulled back a fraction, just enough for the air to knife between you—then purred low, feral, lips brushing yours in a threat: “Relax. Open your mouth, dolly. I’ll show you something good.”

Then he showed you.

No gentle coaxing, no sweet first-kiss bullshit. He crashed in like a storm breaking glass—teeth clashing, tongue forcing past your lips with the single-minded greed of a junkie chasing the vein.

“Bite me back”, he pant. “Moan like my desperate little virgin doll—match me—I’ll make you.” Every swirl was a dare dipped, every nip a deliberate tear—biting blood out just to taste it, copper blooming hot and metallic on your tongue, mixing with the flood of your and his saliva he sucked, lickied from you like it was his personal brand of heroin.

Did the attic ever feel like this? No. Not really. Those were tea-party games with blindfolds and giggles no? This was pure cannibalism—him eating you alive from the mouth down, fingers already clawing for more.

Heeseung kept licking your salt-slick skin, while you smelled stale cigarette ash and tasted the raw animal want that leaked from his pores with sweat.

It torched every rumor, every ghost-girl who’d worn your face in his bed, every lie told by this town about purity. This was the epitomy of pure, and honest. His hips rolling slow, his cruelty, the ridge of his cock against your soaked cunt through two pathetic layers of fabric, teasing the ache until your spine bowed—please, ruin me, I’m begging..

It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t polite. It was obscenely real—tongues wrestling in a slurry of spit and blood, your pressed little blouse—the one buttoned to your throat like armor, now half-ripped open. Heeseung broke away just to feast with his eyes : your lips swollen obscene, glistening with mixed fluids; cheeks slashed crimson; collarbone mapped in ugly, sucked bruises leading straight to tits he hadn’t groped yet, but god, the way he stared, pupils blown black, told you he’d brand them next.

Perfect. His perfect, modest little doll—finally cracked open so he can bury his fingers in it, see whats inside, what’s leaking for him.

“H-Hee?” Your voice came out a wrecked squeak, barely human.

“You’re so pretty right now,” he said, voice shredded on the edge, thumb dragging through the mess on your lower lip, smearing it like war paint. “Just for me, ok? Don’t you fucking dare show this face to anyone else, not even Heesu. Be this pure, this mine, only when I’m here.” His grin was dazed, unhinged, eyes strangely manic. “And dump that limp-dick church boy. We don’t like it. You’re ours.”

You shook your head at first, to remind him what happens when a doll is left on her own—she develops a mind that no longer belongs to him.

But then the plot dissolved—poof—scattered like the sunflower petals they used to press into your scraped knees.

Heeseung hands got everywhere greedy and sacrilegious. His shoved under your prim little skirt, the one that screamed look but don’t touch, fingers ripping past soaked cotton panties, curling inside your cunt with a wet, filthy schlick that echoed off the walls.

He knew the path—had jerked off to it in fever dreams, where he could lock you in that attic. Two fingers, then three, pumping brutal, thumb grinding your clit until your hips jerked like a marionette with cut strings loosing balance. Yours clawed his ribs, nails carving bloody crescents.

Heartbeats blurred—whose frantic boom, boom, boom, was whose? The bed cricked under you, wood splintering, threatening to collapse and swallow you both into whatever hell waited below.

He yanked his hand up—fingers slick with you, glistenin—and shoved them past your teeth. “here,” he whispered, eyes void-black, watching you gag on the taste of your own desperation.

“Taste how fucking drenched you are for me.” You choked, tongue swirling on instinct, saliva flooding, dripping down your chin in glossy strands. He groaned—a guttural, wounded sound—hips stuttering against you. Addicted. Grotesquely, pathologically addicted to your spit, the way it coated his skin like glaze; to the copper tang when he bit your lip and lapped the mix like it was vintage wine.

“More,” he hissed, finger-fucking your mouth until it got replaced by his mouth. “Give me everything—spit, blood, those little whines. I want to be inside you… Everywhere.” His breath stuttered. “I want to feel your inside.”

“Do it,” you ground out, voice shredded into a beggar’s rasp.

“Heeseung—fuck me.”

His eyes almost rolled backward, his head falling in your nape. And you felt it—his cock throbbing against your soaked panties like a second heartbeat, rock-hard and obscenely fat, stretching the thin cotton with every hump.

One twitch, one shift of his hips, of your fabric and he could’ve shoved it free, buried it deep, split you open right there, in a brutal move.

The vulgarity wasn’t even in the act itself. No—this was something far more raw. It was in the way he read you, flipped through your pages, ended up smearing ink across your thoughts, your skin until you were dripping and unreadable to anyone else.

It wasn’t just Heeseung, but the twins’ power over you. The real terrifying part was how much you wanted it—wanted to be their doll, the one they worshiped.

Maybe that was supposed to be love.

You wanted to believe it.

But maybe it wasn’t.

You were still shaking, covered in Heeseung’s release, when he tugged his cock back into his pants. His back was already turned, his voice flat.

“Don’t… don’t think this means anything. Don’t tell Heesu. Just… forget it. It’s a secret.”

But he kept coming back.

Sometimes in the middle of the night—storms with no warning—slipping through your window, pressing you into a wall, the mattress, the floor. Lips hot and greedy. Fingers tracing bruises like love letters. And every time, low and filthy against your ear, he’d ask:

“Do you love me?”

You nodded. Or your body did—hips rolling, thighs opening, cunt clenching around nothing until he filled it with his fingers. You let him in. Let him take. Let him leave.

Each “yes” grew smaller. Hoarser. Like it was choking on the lie. You kept telling yourself the secret wouldn’t hurt Heesu. That silence was mercy. That omission was kindness.

Bullshit.

It did.

It spread like rot under floorboards. You stopped crossing their threshold not because you were busy, but because the walls knew. Your window surprisingly got repaired after years of that lock being broken. Every laugh in Heesu’s voice when hanging out, carried sweet subtitles you couldn’t bear to read.

So you ghosted. Clean cuts, practiced quiet. Messages left to fossilize, plans dodged with bloodless excuses—“period,” “tired,” “maybe next week.” You swore you’d cut the cord clean once uni started after summer… Both of them out of your life.

Then one day, Heesu went silent too.

He walked into the woods alone—the same woods where the three of you once played dangerous games on sun-drunk afternoons. Except this afternoon was fog-thick, air heavy enough to chew. And he didn’t come back.

They said the river ran red. Not rusty. Not muddy. Red—like it bled out with him. The same river where you used to wash off tiny wounds from your games. The cops shrugged: he slipped and drowned. Case closed.

They said he looked peaceful.

Except the casket was closed. His face wasn’t a face anymore—rocks chewed it off, stitches barely keeping what remained in the shape of a person. Then the whispers metastasized: suicide? Murder? Sacrifice? Church women clutched their pearls and said Heesu always had that look. You know—the look of kids who skip Sunday service have. The one they get when they stop fearing God.

Heesu’s gone now.

And you’re at his grave, surrounded by strangers crying for the clout of grief. His mother wails about her “smiling boy,” voice cracking like cheap porcelain. Each word knots your gut—she’s lying for the grief, or maybe the memory. She never really saw him.

Not like Heeseung did.

Not like you did.

“Bullshit,” you hiss, rage hotter than tears.

Heeseung’s hand clamps yours, too tight, trembling. Jaw locked, eyes glassy. Don’t, his grip says. Not here.

So you choke the scream, let his pulse anchor you. For once, he’s the glue.

Crowd scatters like roaches when the lights flick on—condolences mumbled, heels clicking toward casseroles and gossip.

You stay at grave.

Fog turns headstones into jagged teeth.

Then—your name.

Soft. Faint.

Heesu’s voice.

Again.

Heeseung’s fingers catch your wrist. “I was calling you.”

“You… Sorry, It sounded just like—”

His eyes snag yours—grief, yes, but something feral underneath. Comparing him to his brother wasn't very… especially now...

“Come home,” he says, voice splintering. “Family’s gathering. You can’t stay here all day, ok?”

You open your mouth to refuse—not yet, let me rot with him—but his grip turns forceful.

Then she materializes. Heeseung’s girl—a new one apprently— the 101th problem of yours. Your reality’s jump-scare.

“Babe…” She snakes an arm around his. The word slices you in a million more pieces.

But for a first, Heeseung didn’t flinch from you. Don't act like you don’t exist anymore. “Go home. It’s for family now...” he say not even meeting her eyes.

Her glare flicks to you, like she could read the now faded hickeys under your collar, but dismisses you as not worth enough to be one of his girls.

“She’s family,” he repeats, slower, meaner.

And fuck, it lands, both poison and balm.

But as his fingers crush yours, one thought gnaws: If, you’re family, why did family did what the both you did?

Why did the family let Heesu walk into the fog alone?

The drive back is silent. Rain smears the windows into dull watercolor. You’re in the back of Heeseung’s family’s car, too small for the quiet. His hand swallows yours on the middle seat—warm, almost claiming.

Your thumb traces circles on his skin; you don’t really notice. Not until his stare started to burn. You turn and see it. That smile he gives at the prime vision of him holding your hand? Slow and faint. Like he’s wearing Heesu’s face and it’s two sizes too small.

Stop… Stop thinking about Heesu…

The car stops. Houses loom. Your chest caves.

Heesu still lives here in your head—laugh echoing down halls, bedroom light flickering like a beacon, that teasing lilt asking if you want a drink when you always said no, while his fingers “accidentally” brush your hair too long like he always did.

You can’t go in. Not now… Maybe not ever.

“Hey.” Heeseung’s voice slithers right up against your ear, too soft for how he speak naturally. “Come in, please.”

You shake your head so hard it rattles. “I can’t...”

“Please—” The word cracks like a bone, and it’s not his voice anymore.

That’s the real gut-punch. You’ve never said no to Heeseung. Not once. It’s his superpower. He always had that velvet choke-hold and you, the idiot who kept swallowing every word like water.

You open your mouth to spew the truth : “walking in with you, there, is stepping into the hole we dug for him, heeseung“ , but his eyes eat the words. Those aren’t the eyes that used to crinkle first at a joke. These are oil-slick, depthless, studying you like a specimen that forgot its own name, like he wanted to make you knew who you were talking to.

You yank your hand free. He doesn’t chase. Just stands there, rain plastering his hair to his skull, watching you dissolve into the dark fog around your house.

You stumble home with the sky crying on your neck. For one delusional second you think the clouds are crying for you… For Heesu.

Then you remember: weather doesn’t give a shit.

In your room you crank the shower to scalding and step in fully clothed, shoes and all. You stay until the mirror fogs into oblivion and your skin blisters pink, waiting for the water to excise something. It doesn’t. Guilt’s a tick burrowed too deep for steam.

You shut your eyes and there it is again: not Heeseung’s voice. The other one. The one six feet under. Whispering from the marrow of your bones like it never left. Your name, again, and again. Suddenly smelling iron, and wet mud in the water falling on you. You won’t open your eyes. Cause what if you do and he’s here? behind you, his head on your nape as he always loved it. Talking softly about nothing and everything.

Heesu…

Your innocent Heesu.

That night, the fever hit hard. You’re burning alive, lungs thick with hot tar, staggering through the house hunting pills you’re not sure will break the fever—or play nice with the anxiety meds already rattling in your bloodstream. One blink and the hallway tilts, walls pulsing like lungs, floorboards licking at your ankles. Next blink, you’re back in bed, collapsing into sheets that do swallow you whole, cool cotton turning to quicksand.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re there.

Back in their attic.

The colored dull light thru the tinted small windows, the dust particles flying in the air, and that old smell. The twin's laughter—low, syrupy, kind—curls around your skull. Someone’s knotting a blindfold over your eyes. Silk from their aunt’s old 90’ dress.

It’s familiar. You know this game. You invented it all together, back when it still sounded sweet and pure in the way only the three of you defined it.

They keep you spinning around until you lose all perception of your surroundings. The sound of Heeseung removing his piercing reaches your ears, accompanied by the clatter of Heesu putting his glasses down on a table close by.

“Guess,” the voices purr—Heeseung’s cadence, Heesu’s timbre, then Frankenstein stitch of both voices, “Guess.”

It's amusing in the strangest way. They approach you, circle you, one is blowing air in your ear, and you tilt. The other is nudging you in various places and you shrink.

Your laugh comes warm. “Stop fucking with me, we’re not kids anymore…”

Silent

“… Guys?”

Then, fingers—whose?—trace your jaw feather-light, then dig. And wet tongue laps at your lips.

Guess who, by touch and feelings, huh ?

Only now, the air feels slightly off-kilter. The laughter, thinner.

“Ready?” Heeseung’s deeper voice teases. It’s different from the usual... More… Heavy. He’s older, that’s maybe why.

You nod with a slight excited smile, feeling both thrilled and unsure.

Your mind sinks into it, and fingertips skim over your wrist. They trail lightly along your pulsing veins, pausing at the bend of your elbow, then gone.

Others, more hesitant, like it’s asking for permission it doesn’t really need, grazes the nape of your neck, putting your hair back, enjoying every graze down your back, followed by a hot, shaky breath. You’re ecstatic, shivering at every contact.

You don’t need to see to know who’s who normally. Choose and it’ll stop.

You know Heeseung. You know Heesu.

But it’s been so long since you all played this game… And you’re all grown, and changed, and different, and altered. They won’t mind you making it go a little longer…

They make you sit on that old velvet couch—the one that’s been losing its emerald color and collecting dust in a corner.

You feel their shoulders brush yours, hear the quiet scrape of fabric, a faint trace of vanilla-mint shampoo curling into your lungs when your head turns to your left. Heesu’s.

And a black musky cologne, when you turn to your right. Heeseung’s for sure.

Fever burns under your skin. Their hands, touch, copies, twins, glide over you like you’re porcelain, breakable, theirs. Fingers tangle in your hair, slowly, tugging just enough to tilt your doll-neck back.

“Guess…” A voice reminds you. And for the first time you’re not sure whose.

Nails trace your arms, your throat, your parted lips, mapping every inch like it’s the first time a woman’s body ever existed.

They breathe against you, hot, hungry, two boys, two men, worshiping their favorite toy.

“I-I like this dress…You’re the prettiest in it.” A voice breath, kissing your left shoulder as it slides down a strap of your night gown. From the hesitation you can tell it’s Heesu’s. From the choice of word too, you smiled.

Heeseung… would have called you fuckable, a dude turn on. sexy if he felt poetic.

“You're so fucking hot in it…” the other voice added, letting the other strap fall and the dress lend on your hips.

You can’t help but grin a little at Hee’s voice coming from your right.

“Guess…” Again you can’t tell suddenly.

What you believe is Heesu’s hands hook under your thighs, lift you until you’re straddling his lap, legs opened to the slightly cold ambient air. His cock already straining against his sweatpants, throbbing against your already ruined thin clothed pussy. He exhales like a dying man, hips bucking up, grinding his length along your ass in slow, filthy drags. The friction is good, his fabric soaking with your slick and his precum smearing until you’re somehow both slide-slipping-fucking without penetration.

“Move with me,” he begs, his voice cracking, a hand clamping at your shoulder the other on your hip to force his rhythm on you. You roll against him, clit catching on the form of his hard on with every hump, sparks exploding behind your eyes and voice purring small whimpers. He’s not wearing underwear, you feel it. Heesu’s head falls back, throat bared, moaning your name like a prayer, hips snapping very slowly, chasing the wet heat you’re painting across his pants.

The one you swear is Heeseung—don’t dare move. You can’t see it, but he’s staring, pupils blown wide like black holes ready to swallow you whole, tongue dragging slow and filthy across his lower lip, already tasting your skin in his sick little mind.

He yanks your wrist into a bruising grip like he’s claiming a limb, then drags his tongue over it in a slow, deranged glide—like he’s tasting a pulse he wants to bite through. His tongue chases every shiver in your veins, hunting them, before sliding between your fingers and fucking the gaps with wet, filthy thrusts that sound obscene in the quiet.

Then your index and ring finger disappear into the molten heat of his mouth—devoured, not kissed. His tongue thrashes around them, desperate, greedy, and his teeth sink into the base hard enough that you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Feels good, hm?” he rasps.

You nod—more from the practiced instinct than thoughts—your brain’s dissolving into the heat, the moment, and you offer yourself mouth agap: sloppy, trembling, desperate, begging without a word for him to break you open and crawl inside the wreckage he makes.

He doesn’t just step forward—he descends on you. His hand fists in your hair, knuckles grinding your scalp, jerking your head back until your throat stretches tight, a perfect exposed line he could bruise, bite, worship, or tear open. His breath hits your lips, starved.

“These lips,” he rasps, softly kissing, “Fuck… I’ve been dreaming of ruining them. Stretching them. Making you choke on me.” His voice cracks at the end, like wanting you hurts.

Then he takes your mouth—no prelude, no testing or warning, just collision.

He crashes into you with a force that feels like a fist made of heat. His tongue rams past your lips, claiming space, fucking your mouth with long, greedy strokes. He tastes like you, like the leftover copper from where he bit you earlier, all of it tangled with his spit as he forces yours to mix with his. It slicks your chin, but it doesn’t matter—Heeseung licks it off in a messy sweep that makes your knees buckle.

Then his free hand tears down his zipper with a violence that shivers through your bones. His cock spills into the air—thick, heavy, flushed so dark it borders on bruised. Precum beads at the tip, dripping slow, obscene, enough to slick his fingers as he wraps a hand around the base and strokes once to keep himself from unraveling too fast.

He drags the head across your mouth, smears himself over your lips like your favorite gloss, and just look at you. Then you feel his lips, tasting himself on you.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth until you forget how to close it, ok?” he mutters, voice shredded with need.

The tip slides across your tongue—hot, salty and bittersweet. Your body lurches forward without permission, chasing the taste he gives you.

“Open,” he whispers.

And you open, ready to take him as deep as Heeseung wants, ready to let him destroy the part of you he loves most.

The first push is slow, deliberate—velvet-soft head breaching your lips, scalding hot, stretching your mouth obscenely wide. You feel it throb harder against your tongue, veins pulsing like live wires, the slit weeping more of that bitter, addictive gloss. Heeseung groans low, hips twitching, feeding you inch by torturous inch while he watches—blindfold snug, your lips strained around his girth like it’s the holiest desecration he’s ever witnessed.

“Relax your throat,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek in mock tenderness. “Breathe through your nose. Take me.”

You try. The stretch burns, jaw screaming, saliva flooding in a messy torrent that spills down your chin in thick, glistening ropes. Heeseung guides you deeper—slow, relentless—until the head nudges the back of your throat. You gag sharp, eyes watering beneath the blindfold, but he holds you steady, thumb pinning your tongue flat, soothing the panic.

“Swallow,” he says, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Swallow around me, okay?”

You do. The reflex milks him—throat fluttering, clenching—and he hisses through clenched teeth, hips jerking forward. “Fuck, yeah—just like that.”

Behind you, Heesu’s hands glide to your thighs, fingers prying them apart, delving straight into the flood between. He moans—shattered, needy—as two digits spear your soaked folds, slipping far too easily into your clenching heat. He curls them, drinking the slick mess you’ve made, hips humping desperately against your ass. “You’re drowning my pants,” he whimpers, voice cracking, yanking your hips higher to force you grinding harder on his trapped cock. Fabric clings ruined, translucent with you; the blunt head catches teasingly at your entrance with every frantic thrust.

Up front, Heeseung owns your throat now—slow, merciless strokes that bulldoze past your gag reflex until you’re swallowing him to the root, nose crushed into the coarse hair at his base, lips stretched grotesque around his girth. Tears carve hot paths down your cheeks, but you moan around him anyway, the vibration ripping a guttural groan from his chest.

“Guess.” That voice echo again.

Heesu’s fingers start pumping in earnest, thumb grinding merciless circles over your clit while his hips slam upward, chasing your frantic grind. “Gonna come—sorry,” he sobs, voice splintering like glass. His grip turns bruising—good bruising—yanking you back onto him with raw possession. Teeth scrape the shell of your ear; between Heeseung’s relentless thrusts, you catch his fractured plea: “I’ll mark you… I’ll mark you outside, please, please, please.”

Heeseung eases out just enough for you to gasp—thick strings of spit bridging your swollen lips to his glistening cock—then slams back in, deeper, harder, until your throat visibly bulges. “Wish I could make you look at me… fuck, I need your eyes,” he snarls, hips snapping. “You’re ours, you know that.”

You try to answer—words, anything—but all that escapes are garbled moans and wet, desperate groans around his shaft. It’s enough.

Heesu breaks first. Hips stutter, cock pulsing wildly against your ass; hot spurts erupt, soaking your thighs, your stomach, claiming you in thick, filthy ropes that drip and cling. (When did he shove his sweatpants down?) The sensation shatters you—orgasm crashing like a tidal wave, cunt clenching greedily around his buried fingers, gushing over his hand, his lap, marking him right back.

Heeseung follows with a primal roar, yanking free at the last second. One fist, two—then he paints you: mouth, tongue, the swell of your tits in endless, obscene stripes. He crashes into a kiss through the mess, tongue scooping his own release from your lips, feeding it back to you, forcing you to swallow the bitter-salt mix with a possessive growl.

“So?” Heeseung pants, smug. “Guessed?”

Your trembling fingers trace his mouth; you breathe his name. His lips curve—right answer.

Heesu cups your chin, turns you for his turn. You whisper his name against the chastest brush of lips. He smiles, soft and shattered: “You’re the best.”

Heesu’s delicate fingers untie the ribbon like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s already broke. He’s so close your lashes brush his cheek, breath hot but suddenly sour with something metallic. His thumb tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, but the gaze behind his bangs that flicks between your lips and your blown-wide eyes is starving, not tender.

Still, he use the fabric to remove what Heeseung made out of you—looking like he wished he could too—as you grabed on his glasses to adjust them on his nose. He smile shy, eyes trying not to look too long at your chest, like you didn’t felt him busting a nut on your back a minutes ago, making it a marking thing on top of that.

He finished, circling you back in a back hug,“Maybe…” His head rest on you shoulder, “If I were more like him, you’d never guess who’s who, doll.”

“What do you mean?” Heeseung’s voice floats in from the window, suddenly lazy, distant, as if he wasn’t cataloguing every frantic pulse in your throat earlier.

“If I were mean,” Heesu breathes against your ear, teeth clamping your lobe hard enough to bruise cartilage, “I’d bite until I tast blood.” You flinch-smile as reflex. And he mutter a sorry.

“Am I?” Heeseung shrugs, still turned away, moonlight carving his silhouette.

“You are,” Heesu snarls, nose dragging down back your neck, lips sealing to your spine with wet suction—like he’s trying to suck the vertebrae straight through skin. His bangs rasp over flesh, tinkling, “Heesu, stop,” you giggle.

“You don’t treat her good… It hurts her, and me.”

You suddenly oblivious. Heesu seemed like he tried to defend you but it made strangly anxious. “You force my sweet doll to lie to my face—even after she swore she’d never hide a damn thing to me.”

You freeze. “W-what?”

Something cold and slick slithers down your spine—slow, deliberate, too thick for saliva. Too viscous. It pools at the base of your back, cooling into a sticky brand.

“We always agreed to play with her together. So why? Why having her all to yourself so many time.” Heesu’s voice drops to a gravel rasp. “I too—always wanted to fuse with her. Carve my name inside you. Our doll. Mine. I should shove it inside now as punishment.” He added in your ear.

“No!” Heeseung barks, still facing the dark glass, like somthing was making him stay in place. “It’s off-limits. It’s the rule—If don’t choose one, none has her.”

“What?” Your voice cracks like thin ice.

“But y-you two—didn’t you—?” Heesu’s tone warps, underwater.

“NO!” you scream, twisting to face him—

You scream. His face…

Flesh peeled in wet ribbons, dangling from cheekbones like gore-curtains. One eyeball dangles by a optic nerve, swinging like a pendulum. The other socket is a black pit leaking custard-thick blood. When his jaw unhinges, a fist-sized clot of tongue and teeth plops onto his lap with a wet splat, steaming.

You shriek, lungs seizing. Your hand jerks behind you on instinct—comes back drenched, arterial red up to the wrist. The air reeks of copper and rot.

Heesu’s body lurches upright, vertebrae cracking like gunfire, joints popping out of sockets with wet sucking sounds. Skin splits along the seams, revealing raw muscle that twitches and spasms. He drags himself toward you, dragging loops of intestine that slap the floor like wet ropes.  You want to vomit.

You scramble backward, nails splintering the old wood floor, until your up spine slamming into Heeseung’s chest. You whirl—his palms cup your face, but they’re slick, dripping, painted with the same blood.

“You’re the only thing I want,” he hisses, voice fracturing into static. “You won’t leave. You’ll stay right here, with me, okay? Don’t leave me like he did.”

Terror detonates. You wrench free, bare feet slapping the creaking floor. The door—yank it open—

To be faced with… You weren't sure anymore. Your name came out of his mouth and it sounded like both of them were talking.

“I’ll be the one you want, i’ll be him.” the thing gurgles, voices overlapping, wet and grinding.

Your name rips from somewhere behind you—Heeseung? Heesu?

You slam your eyes shut.

Open them gasping.

Heeseung kneels at the edge of your bed, real, human, a cold towel in trembling hands. Moonlight slices across his face—no blood, no gore, just worry.

“What the hell,” you rasp. “That dream—no, nightmare… felt…”

You touch your forehead. Fever’s a furnace. Heeseung’s voice is soft, exhausted: your mom barred the door, swore you were contagious. He scaled the balcony anyway, found you thrashing, soaked in sweat. Stayed all night, swapping cold clothes, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Feeling better?”

You shake your head. You feel worse. Hollowed out, paper-thin.

He stays most of the time at the edge of your bed, on the floor. Just like Heesu used to. Xhile you keep on blacking out and waking up. You heard him say in at a moment, “Call me whenever, I’ll be there…” until sleep drags you under again. When you woke up, it was to the sound of the banging rain. It was night again. You slept a full day. You’re a corpse still in your own bed, sheets glued to fevered skin.

You turn, left and right, rot on your phone, blankly looking at the ceiling. Until you find yourself crawling back to those old texts with Heesu, obsessively rereading every word, replaying his voice like it was a drug. And the last one? Yeah, that one hit like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

Heesu🐿️: "Meet me... Please"

Heesu🐿️: Tell me what’s going on?? Why won’t you come home?? Why no hang out anymore??

It’s been days since you swore you’d stop checking his messages. Lies, obviously. You still open the chat every hours, even under this fever, scrolling through old voice notes like a masochist with a lot of data.

You don’t even know what you’re looking for. Maybe the ghost of his laugh. Maybe proof that you did imagine the whole thing.

Then you do what you always did when logic gave you up since Heesu’s gone—you called. The ceiling stares back like it’s judging you. Then his voice: recorded, distant, too polite for the damage it leaves.

“Sorry, not here right now. Might call you later… Sorry if I forget.”

Beep.

Of course. The apology hits like a habit. You almost laugh. He always said sorry like it was punctuation.

You smile, if you can call that grimace a smile and wait through the beep. You were supposed to say something easy, something normal. Instead, it slips out raw:

“Hey… it’s me.”Your voice splinters. “I’m sorry, Hee. I should’ve been there. Should’ve listened. Should’ve—”

The word “told you I loved you too”, “loved you more“ dies in your throat.

The rest comes in fragments. Half‑played games you guys still need to finish, midnight walks, salted popcorn with chocolate the stupid mix only you two liked. You talk until the voicemail cuts you off.

And still, you kept calling. Because apparently, you’re the kind of person who argues with ghosts.

Until the phone buzzes back. Your heart stutters. The screen lights up.

Heeseung.

Heeseung🦌: Wanna hang out?

You stared at the screen, heartbeat pulsing in your ears. Every part of you screamed NO. But before you could type, another message appeared.

bzz.

Heeseung 🦌: Sorry

bzz.

Heeseung 🦌: parents left for Korea, to meet family... Kinda don’t want to be alone right now

bzz

Heeseung 🦌: please…

The guilt slams harder than the rain on your window. What time is it again? You can’t refuse him. Not tonight. Not when he seems so broken like that, raw, pleading, needy.

You lurch to your window, stare too long into the black. Then you wrench it open. Wind rapes in—cold, wet, invasive. It claws under your nightgown, licking up your thighs like it already knows how you taste.

Across the yard, Heeseung’s window’s open. He’s there, drenched, hair plastered like a second skin, eyes glinting. When he calls out your name, it’s not a question, or a plea. It’s a collar. A yank. A threat wrapped in his siren voice.

He extends a hand. Veins bulging. Knuckles white. Waiting.

You don’t think. You go.

You climbed the slick balcony rail, fingers trembling, rain threading down your spine like cold breath. The air bite at your skin, hardened your nipples, made your nightgown cling like a second unwanted skin.

Heeseung pulled you in easily, arms locking around your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish. He held you there a second too long. A touch too hot. A stare too deep.

He then shut the window behind you with a soft, final thud.

And the world went quiet.

Too quiet.

His house was soundproofed far too well for some old house. The silence felt unnatural, like something was being kept out... Or kept in.

You could hear your own breath, shallow and fast. His, a fraction uneven. Like he was holding something back.

“Hey,” you said, tugging his wet shirt, just to hear a voice, anything.

He turned. And for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Water dripped from your hair, your clothes clung to you like wet paper trying to shame you. Heeseung looked at you like someone caught between hunger and grief. You could see the words building in his throat, but he couldn’t pick which one would break you both faster.

But his eyes spoke volumes. They dragged over you—from your bare feet to the soaked hem of your gown, lingering on the hard peaks of your nipples straining against the fabric, the frantic rise and fall of your chest, your trembling lips. Then he stepped closer, tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and wrapped his arms around you—soft, almost reverent.

For a second, you almost believed it was… those same soft hands had—

You froze. No. Stop thinking about him.

Then you gave in. Your arms circled him back. You stayed like that until your pulse remembered how to behave.

Heeseung’s hand found yours—gentle but firm. His voice low, coaxing: something to drink, dry clothes. You refused. Took a big towel instead. Said you’d go home soon, change there. He didn’t like it—you saw it in the tight line of his jaw, controlled, swallowing words he’d regret. But he let it go. Didn’t argue.

That’s when you noticed. His hair was dark again. Not burgundy anymore. Slightly lighter in the glow, but mostly back to its original shade. You hadn’t registered it at the funeral.

“You dyed it back,” you murmured, reaching out without thinking, brushing his bangs aside into his signature style.

He let you. Leaned into the touch. “Yeah… sorry. It just felt wrong. The other color.”

Something unsure in his tone twisted your stomach.

You tried to keep the chat light, but the mood hung heavy. You were both drying off when Heeseung’s gaze drifted down the hallway to the shut door at the far end. He hesitated. Stared.

“There’s something I want to do…” he said quietly. “Something I don’t have the guts to do alone…”

You followed his gaze. Already knew.

Heesu’s room.

You both hesitated at the door, locking eyes. Your fingers were ice on the handle—until Heeseung reached for you, sliding his into yours. Neither spoke. Together, you turned the knob.

The air inside was stale. Preserved. Heeseung didn’t move at first. Just stood there, fingers tangled with yours, eyes scanning the space—scanning you. You felt it: the weight of his attention, gravity doubled, every pulse in your body announcing itself to him.

You shivered. Not just from the cold.

The shutters were closed. You flicked on a dim, dying lamp—its glow weak and yellowish, like it didn’t want you seeing too much.

His computer pulsed in sleep mode. Cables coiled like veins. Stacks of horror games, fantasy comics, psych books. Posters you’d helped tape up. The bed you’d collapsed on once or twice, limbs tangled, all-nighter laughter still ghosting the sheets.

Heeseung moved slow, touching things like they might crumble. Like they might scream.

“You should take something,” he said eventually.

You shook your head. “No. He wasn’t big on sharing, haha…”

Heeseung gave a thin smile. “He would’ve shared with you. You were the only one he ever shared anything with.”

You almost laughed—brittle. “What? Jealous?”

“Maybe…” He let himself fall back onto the bed. The sound cracked too loud.

“You shared me, though…”

“My friendship…” you added quickly.

You joined him on the carpet, knees drawn up, nightgown clinging cold to your skin, hair plastered to your neck. The air smelled of dust, metal, and the ghost of Heesu’s voice.

“Nah… You always had a favorite. For sure. Am I wrong?”

You didn’t respond.

Every breath inhaled memories—of the three of you. Then just the two…

Heeseung reached for the controller on Heesu’s desk and handed it to you. Plastic cold. Too cold. Like it had been waiting.

“His favorite?” he murmured.

You nodded. Turned it over in your hands. Worn buttons. Faded sticker. Throat tight.

“He used to curse at it when it lagged,” you said.

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Blamed everything but himself…”

So you played—the same game the three of you binged after school. But Heeseung picked Heesu’s mains. Every round.

Soft clicks filled the space where laughter used to live. The console hummed low. Outside, rain eased to a steady rhythm, like the world keeping time for you both.

Now and then, glances—too quick to mean anything, too long to mean nothing. No need to talk. The quiet stretched thin, vibrating with everything unspoken.

Minutes blurred into hours. Rain softened to a whisper. The screen flickered over curling posters, half-folded blankets. The room felt suspended—unsure what time it belonged to anymore.

You lost track of score. Game-over blinked red. Neither restarted. You stayed—he above, you below—like moving would snap the last thread tethering you to Heesu.

Then the console clicked to sleep. Light faded to dull blue. Stillness ached in your chest.

You lay back, head on the bed’s edge beside Heeseung, staring at faint fluorescent stars clinging to the ceiling. You remembered sticking them up with Heesu—him balanced on a tower of chairs, both of you laughing while he reached that damn corner.

One star was missing. You wondered if Heeseung noticed too.

“It’s your moles…” Heeseung started.

“Hm? What?”

“The stars. The pattern of the moles on your back…”

His voice flat, lost in plastic sky. “I realized it one day, but Heesu got pissed when I noticed… Guess he wondered how I caught it so quick.”

You stared harder—traced the constellation until it clicked. Then you were crying. Silent tears sliding into the corners of your mouth, salt and dust on your tongue.

Heeseung turned toward you. Voice low, trembling: “Hey…”

You breathed deep, met his eyes as he brushed your hair back again.

“Can you… stay? Just for a while.” Simple. But it landed like confession. “Since my parents are gone… let’s stay together.”

You wanted to say no. I can’t. I shouldn’t. This isn’t right. But the words curled behind your teeth, silent and aching.

So you nodded. Barely.

You moved—slow, crossing a line you both knew couldn’t be uncrossed. Carpet scraped your knees. Floorboards groaned like disapproval. Heeseung didn’t move. Just watched—through soaked, near-translucent fabric, through your shivers, through the hitch in your breath as you reached the bed’s edge.

His jaw locked. Eyes unreadable behind bangs. You hesitated. Then he took your hand. Pulled you down beside him—soft.

Mattress dipped. Space between you a breath. Shoulders not touching, but close enough for heat, tension, want. Silence pulsed thick, uneven—like a heart with a murmur. Blue console light painted his face softer—almost gentle. Almost like—

After what felt like hours, he whispered: “Why do you love me? Me. Not him?”

The question cracked something sealed. Something you weren’t ready to name.

Your lips parted—no sound. You turned to the ceiling, to fading stars. You’d thought them random. Never understood why Heesu needed them to sleep.

Fuck. You knew. Just pretended not to—because he wouldn’t dare claim you.

You were supposed to leave. University waiting. New city. New life. You’d decided to let time erase the ache. Erase Heeseung. And Heesu…

“I don’t know,” you said finally, small, pathetic. “It just… happened, I guess.”

He turned. Eyes searched yours for lies. Stars shimmered in your tears.

“But I know when I realized it…” you said. “Fourteen. When I got sick. You jumped the balcony every day—snacks, comics. Stayed even when Mom screamed. Checked my temperature. Made me laugh. And you…” Voice cracked. “Kissed me goodnight.”

Heeseung shifted closer. Your body tilted toward his—like it couldn’t help it. His expression flickered—wondering, almost afraid.

“You—”

“How did you know it was me?” he cut in. “We looked exactly alike. Could’ve been him…”

You smiled through ache. “The shirt. When you played on the floor—the tag had your name. Didn’t even have to guess.”

He exhaled—almost a laugh, broken halfway. Mouth twitched, fell. Light caught his face and for a moment— He looked like himself.

“Maybe it should’ve been him,” he said. Quiet. Flat. “He would’ve treated you better than me.”

The words settled like dust in a sealed room.

You wanted to say no. Don’t say that. But the thought lived in you too—impossible to ignore. If Heesu had made a move… if they’d both wanted to share you… would anything be different?

He looked down. Jaw tight. Something raw flickered behind his eyes—almost dangerous. For a second, you thought he might cry.

But Heeseung never cried. Not in front of you. Not ever. Until now…

“Hee…?” you whispered.

You reached up, touched his cheek—instinctive. Desperate. He leaned into your hand like he was starving. When he looked up, he tried to smile. It shattered.

“I’m sorry…” Voice soft. Splintering. “I won’t make you suffer anymore. I promise. I won’t treat you like shit anymore.”

The apology lodged in your throat. Felt wrong. Too sudden. You sat up, heart hammering.

His eyes glassy in low light—pain you didn’t know he could hold.

“You never really did, Hee—” But even as you said it, you weren’t sure it was true.

“I did,” he growled, voice cracked and ragged. “I did, and I won’t anymore. I swear to God, I won’t.”

You hesitated, thumb brushing beneath his eye where a tear had slipped. He shut his eyes and slammed himself harder into your touch, shuddering, shaking, as if the world would crumble if he let go. Every exhale scorched your wrist; every tremor crackled with his need like a live wire.

“Hee…”

No answer.

Just your name—ragged, desperate, scalding against your skin—like he was branding you, claiming you without a single word.

Heeseung closed the space until it scorched.

Chest crushed to your belly, his head hovering just above your ribs, every trembling, fever-hot inch of him grinding against you—raw, unfiltered, starving. Heat bled through the drenched nightgown, fabric plastered translucent to your skin, his ragged breaths fanning like flames over your hardened nipples. The cold metal of his earrings dragged deliberate across the peaks, sparking jolts straight to your cunt, while his fingers clamped your waist and hips, like if he eased up even a fraction, you’d dissolve into smoke and leave him aching.

“Stay… stay… please…” he begs, the words spilling out in pathetic half-sobs, half-growls, each one yanking you harder into his sweat-drenched mess of a body.

You don’t budge. One hand twisted in his greasy hair, the other fisting the sheets like they’re the last shred of your dignity while your traitorous cunt clenches and leaks for him. Every inch of him brands you—nerves, pulse, the inside of your skull.

Air’s gone rancid, thick with the stink of want, choking you both.

His hips jerk wild—sloppy, frantic, virgin-desperate. Forehead mashed to yours, chest flattening your tits, breath hacking out wet and ruined. He looks wrecked: eyes black holes, mouth hanging open, a guy straight-up melting into your skin like he’s trying to fuse.

Lips hover over the soaked nightgown, tongue lapping heavy, drooling stripes. When he finally clamps on your nipple, he sucks like a starving mutt, teeth gnawing, branding through fabric like it’s flesh. Hands follow the chaos: pinching, twisting, raking red lines down your ribs, hoarding every inch he’s jerked off to for years.

It’s wrong. Disgustingly wrong. Like he’s ripping his own guts out just to shove them inside you. Fingers dive south, shoving under the hem, hunting slick and bare skin. You jolt, thighs snapping shut; he groans like your heat just cauterized some festering wound in him.

“Fuck…”

His hand grinds your clit until your hips buck like a cheap whore. No. Not here. Not now, but why your body’s already sold out, arching, begging, cunt spasming around thin air.

Heeseung crashes—folding you like trash origami. Every squeak, every shiver, every pathetic whimper just pumps him meaner

“Heeseung—wait—”

You caught it. That feral glint in his eyes, black pits oozing a want you never saw before. He pinned to your knees to your tits.

You whimpered his name—tiny, cracked. But still didn’t fight. Not when he tore the drenched panties off, baring your pulsing cunt to stale air. Heeseung never—not once tried to eat you.

Your thighs trembled at the mere idea of him going down on you. Because Heeseung never did. Never once. Never bothered.

But him right now? Obsessed. Kneeling between your legs, hair a wreck, eyes locked on his own fingers grazing your slick folds, thumb circling your clit like he’s hypnotized. He swallows hard, throat bobbing, dying for a taste of that glistening mess.

What the hell was happening? Heeseung felt wrong—different, unhinged.

“Can I taste you? I really want to…”

He begged.

You nod—he lunges.

Nose mashed to your swollen clit, tongue lapping your juices like a starved dog, breath wild and ragged. He devours every tremble, every arch, pinning you to the mattress with iron hands.

Loves how your soft lips feel against his tongue, how you gush wetter the harder he grinds his nose in.

Your fingers twist in his hair, smearing him with you; he groans into your cunt when you finally grind back.

Doesn’t just let you—he joins, two fingers curling deep, shoving into your clenching heat. Fuck, nothing like your own—unpredictable thrusts, sudden scissoring, drinking every moan, every plea.

Then he speeds up. Faster. Tongue plunging alongside, stretching you as you chase the edge.

Smirks every time your nails rake his scalp.

“Cum—please, just cum—” muffled into your folds.

You shatter. Hips buck wild; he savors every second. First time this hard—even solo on your horniest nights, it never hit like this.

You tried to collapse back, thinking it might be over. Suddenly grossed by what the two of you are doing in Heesu’s room.

You were wrong.

“Wait, wait, wait, Hee—”

He forced your legs open again—relentless, brutal, demanding. His hands rewriting every boundary you’d ever known.

You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat. He didn’t stop. Only moved faster, closer, every motion feverish, desperate, claiming.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me.” His voice cracked raw against your skin, trembling with want.

“Yes,” you gasped. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He pushed harder, devoured you with every thrust of fingers, every swipe of tongue—cataloguing every gasp, every twitch, like he was etching it into his bones.

Then it hit—a climax ripping through you like lightning, shredding your body in impossible waves. He groaned, his own need spilling hot into his sweats, fingers and lips chasing every spasm, every sob, like proof of your total surrender.

You were his. He was yours. Tonight. This moment. The insane, fever-drenched blur of everything you’d both been starving for.

You collapsed onto the mattress—breathless, undone, slick with sweat and sin. You rolled to your side, pulse hammering, and felt it: his bulge pressed wet, twitching against your ass through ruined fabric. Heeseung didn’t move. Just dragged slow, deliberate kisses down your spine—like each one was penance, like the sticky mess in his pants was all he deserved.

Unbearable. You wanted him like you’d never wanted anything.

And still, he didn’t move.

So you did.

Hips snapped back, slamming into his twitching bulge—hard, sharp, punishing. Grinding like you wanted to bruise him through the fabric. His moan tore out—raw, gutted, animal. Heat flared; your fingers knifed into his hair, yanking while stroking him through the soaked mess.

Coherent thought? Gone. You rutted like a bitch in heat—shivering, curves crushed to him, hips pounding wildfire. Friction turned feral, unrestrained. His teeth clamped your shoulder, growling hungry; hands dug your waist, forcing you down, harder, moans crashing in filthy harmony.

Heeseung started babbling—needy, wrecked: “Please… more… need more… don’t stop…” You shuddered, grinding vicious at his begging, his desperation vibrating through your bones.

You flipped to all fours—one hand spreading your dripping cunt, the other grabbing his waistband, thumbing his leaking head. “Please, Hee… fuck me. Do it!” you gasped.

He seized you. Sweatpants yanked down, creamed cock springing free. Aligned at your entrance, mouth hot on your spine—desperate—then slammed home in one brutal thrust, ripping a scream from your throat.

Pulled out slow—torture inch by inch—just to crash back, chasing that scream again. Every clench, every spasm drove him madder. Your name shredded from his lips in frantic moans, hips bucking wild as he lost the fight. Rhythm escalated—primal, unhinged, mattress groaning under the assault. Only sounds left: raw syllables, broken cries, sharp whimpers of need.

Two truths claw for dominance (all open endings)

Madness (bad ending?) : Heeseung’s grief rot into possession. Heeseung show his true face: he wants to chains you to him only (corruption, grief-twisted yandere Hee, possessiveness, manipulative!hee)

Possession (good ending?) : Heesu’s gone—or so you swear—until events doesn't adds up. shadows whisper your name, cold fingers trace your spine. (ghost!Heesu, spectral fucking, )

Which truth will you choose?

Madness :

The position shifts to missionary, raw. Your legs hook high over his hips so he can drink in every flicker of your face. Your hands fly to his cheeks, thumbs grazing damp skin, and you smile. You finally share this soft, stolen moment. His canine nips your palm. He grins, dazed.

“I love you.” The words hang and shatter you. “I always wanted you. If it wasn’t for him, you’d have been mine.” His thrusts quicken. Your moans grow louder. “No replacement. Just you. No hiding, no restraint. Just us. My pretty doll and me. You and me.”

He drops.

His forehead crashes into your neck. Teeth bare like a wolf scenting blood. The bite is vicious. Skin splits. Hot copper floods your tongue as you yelp.

He taught you this nights ago, blindfolded in the attic, whispering don’t flinch, doll, let it hurt good. The sting blooms into fire, into craving. You arch. Nails rake his back because yes, it’s yours now.

This pain brands you his.

And his make him yours.

Until you see them again—Heesu’s stars.

Those cheap plastic love letters glow faintly.

Your hand lifts on instinct. Fingers claw air toward them like your soul’s begging him back. Tears streak sideways, soaking the pillow, landing on Heeseung as he stretches your cunt open again and again, rewriting you from the inside.

His gaze snaps to yours. He freezes balls-deep.

Something curdles in his eyes, sour, and burning you.

“Why?” he whispers, voice cracking. “Why are you still thinking about him when I’m inside you?” Your hand drops slowly, regretting. “Why the fuck does your head keep crawling back to Heesu, huh?” His hips snap to punish you, grinding your clit raw. “I tried, doll. Dyed my hair back, softened my voice, wore his scent. But you? You... You still want him more right?” He thrusts harder, cutting your breath. “Why can’t you be mine alone? Why do I have to share you even now, huh?”

He grabs your neck, and you choke, not from the hold but his kiss. Spit mix. “Heesu bragged, you know. After that fever-kiss when we were kids. Came to me reeking of your lip gloss, grinning like he’d won the lottery. ‘She tastes like cherry,’ he said, flashing me that fucking grin.” Heeseung's laugh is wet, shattering. “That’s when I had to make that rule, you know." He started thrusting again, torturing you with slow moves. "No one touches you unless the other's here."

He keep kissing, and you bite on his tongue, tearing a groan out of Heeseung. Still, he smiled, liking your lips to paint them red. "If I can’t have you whole, no one gets a crumb. Not even my blood.”

Tears carve canyons down both your cheeks, but his grip morphs. Fingers crush your wrists overhead, bones grinding. “Still you're dripping for me, hm?” He slams in, bottoming out, holding until you sob. “Do you love me? Say it. Say you’re mine. My perfect doll. Only mine.” His free hand snakes to your throat again, not squeezing, just claiming the pulse he created. “I won’t share anymore. Never. Heesu’s six feet under, and you’re still reaching for his stars? Don’t be pathetic, he won't come. Stop thinking. Be mine, okay?”

Something creeps slowly, insidious. A strange kind of calm terror knots your gut, but his cock throbs inside you, hitting that spot he mapped in secret fantasies years ago. The bite pulses with your heartbeat. The blood tastes like home.

"Look I even made sure his spirit know I'm having you only for me, even here."

Right, Heesu was the dream, soft, safe, but gone.

Heeseung? Heeseung’s the nightmare you crave. The bites, the licks, the wounds you both call love. No one else could match it. Only Heeseung. Only he could see you: owned, split open, begging, alive.

He clocks the shift in your mind. Your hips roll up greedy. Cunt clenches like it’s trying to trap him forever. His grin is predatory, eyes still shining. “There she is,” he purrs, thrusting lazy now, sealing it. “My good girl. Learning who she belongs to, now.”

He leans in, breath ghosting your ear: “Let's tattoo my name right here.” Heeseung's fingers trace your wrist, then your inner thigh. “So every time you spread for anyone else or think of anyone else, there won’t be anyone else. You’ll remember who owns you, my beautiful doll. Who made you.”

The stars flicker. They stop shining. Even plastic disappear eventually. Heesu’s will fade too. Heeseung’s eyes burn brighter. He’ll make sure, even if he has to brainwash you, burn the room, the pictures, taint every good memory, places. He’ll do it.

You’re scared—god—terrified, but maybe no one else was ever perfect for you. Maybe this madness is your only match. You won’t feel alive without it lifting you up.

Heeseung lifts you. Eyes lock on yours. The hollow in your gaze thrills him. He carries you to his room now, lays your exhausted figure on cold sheets. You feel his mouth on your ankles, legs, hips, bones, until everything blurs.

He kisses you soft and whispers, “Stay with me, doll. Dream of me. Only me now.”

Possession :

Heeseung pounded you through the grief. Each thrust hammered blow to the hollow ache in your chest, your grief and lust tangled in a brutal knot, as you watched the fadding stars on the wall above.

You can't bear it. If you weren't so into wanting to lose yourself into Heeseung's touch, maybe things would have been deferent.

You turn clawing the sheets, ass high, face buried in Heesu’s old pillow that still smelled of him, memories of flowing, wishing it was him allong maybe.

Heeseung’s hips snapped, cock splitting you open, balls slapping hard enough to turn your silent cry into rought moans.

“Let's forget…” he snarled, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Forget everything but this.”

You screamed into the pillow— a raw and ugly one., felling your orgasm crashed like a wrecking ball, cunt gushing around him, milking his release. He roared, flooding you hot and endless, hips stuttering as he emptied every drop of sorrow into your body.

You collapsed tangled, slick with sweat, cum, tears—grief fucked clean out, at least for tonight. But your mind was clearer now than ever.

When you opened your eyes next morning, light sliced through the blinds.

Heeseung spooned you tight with his long arm, cock soft against your ass, arm heavy over your waist like he’d never let go. For a second you pictured Heesu with you in this, and how it would have been real in an other dimesion.

You woke slow, blinking at the ceiling stars, one still missing.

“Morning,” heeseung mumbled into your neck, voice gravel and sleep.

You talked talked.

Really did.

Everything and nothing at first. then, the funeral. the attic. How Heesu used to steal your fries. How you both hated the color burgundy now. Soft laughter cracked through the quiet, fragile but real.

“Thanks for staying,” Heeseung whispered. “It's nothing, you did the same when I got that fever after the funeral.”

He stiffened.

“What? I crashed here after the rain.”

You blinked. "Really?" He nodded.

You might have hallucinated? Maybe it was a fever dream?

You brushed it off with a shaky laugh, "You know what, forget it, must have been the fever."

You walked you home, even if Heeseung insisted you to stay.

But no, you had somthing to do. Something important. Back in your room, you check if your absence got noticed but it didn't hopefully. You run down the shower preparing to cleance yourself for that slap worth relisation, and took your phone.

Dialed Heesu's number one last final time.

"Hey kiddo, I wanted to tell you something, somthing important, not excuses or past thing that never happen again but real shit you see..."

You took a deep breath.

"I love you. I really did--I mean do. did maybe... I didn't wanted to loose you and was too afraid to realise that the things I liked about Hee was the things I was afraid to get from you, or some kind of deep spychological thing you could have explain way better than me. I want to be more like you in the futur, and do the things we said we were gonna do in the futur. Like finally get that damn driving licence. I stick to the plan, I'll go to the uni dorm--maybe sooner than expected but it's for the better. I'll probably still some of your books tho. And... And... I don't think i'll be with anyone for now. Not now that you're not here." You ending the call way after you thaught you would. But it was your final goodbye to him, and actually to heeseung too.

You stepped into the shower, steam a choking haze. The water scalding your shoulders, finally cleansing your soul.

Your phone buzzes on the sink—you ignore it. Let it go. Let everything go.

You loose yourself in the water until it make you dizzy.

Then—

You hear the whisper. Your name, feather-soft but wrong.

You shut the water. Silence. Then again, curling through the steam like fingers from the drain you hear your name in the heavy air. You whip around, fog swallowing everything thick. Nothing. Just the drip-drip of water echoing like a heartbeat that isn’t yours.

You feel a cold somthing skate your spine—arctic, clawing under skin like they’re mapping bones.

You gasp, lungs seizing, ice flooding veins. You bolt out the shower, snag a towel, clutch it like a shroud against the gut-wrench wrongness crawling up your throat. Your knees buckle; fever’s back, gnawing your skull from inside.

And your phone buzz again.

You snatch it and look at the screen.

Heesu🐿️: I love you too

buzz

Heesu🐿️ : I'll be with you

buzz

Heesu🐿️: protect you

buzz

Heesu🐿️: love you

A hand—invisible, rotting-cold—grabs your hips and puch you toward the fogged mirror. Your heart jackhammers, erratic, skipping beats like it’s trying to escape your chest. You don’t breathe. Can’t as you drops your phone.

"Hee...Heesu?"

You're white, in from of you a star strace itself in the condansation of the mirror than an other until it forms your mole paterns. Even the one who disapered from his ceilling is now drawn, water sliding like tears on the glass.

"Oh my god...You... You're here."

the phone buzz and you grab the phone back.

Heesu🐿️ : I'll never let you alone

You feel it, arms circling you from behind. Back hugging you. Somthing rest on your shoulder, and you know. You get reminded, of Heesu's habit. There's no mistakes. "It's really you." You whispers. "I missed you..."

Buzz

Heesu🐿️: me too

The towel rips away with a slow tear, like undired flesh peeling. Mirror fog smears clean in one vicious swipe

You're faced with Your reflection alone, and see it. Your tits is being kneaded. The feeling's so strange. You can see your skin being pressed, feel the presure, the slight pain of a pinch on your nipple, then see for yourself them being twisted.

A shadow, a black blooms mark your skin.

He pushes you foward again. your palm's being pressed on mirror, and it's like finger intertwin with yours. You feel more than seen, you feel played with. The touch is cold, but the kind of cold that burn on the edge.

Suddenly your leg is yanked high, hooking it like a carcass, holded mid air.

If you weren't dazed by the whole unbelievable situation you would have understood the moment that towel got put out of the way.

“H-Heesu? You?” Your voice cracks, tiny, doll-broken.

You hear that whisper again—his voice, but hollow, echoing from inside your skull: “Mine.”

Then—you feel the stretch. Monstrous. Something glacial and scalding, pulsing with a wrong feeling that spears your cunt, splitting you wide on nothing but pressure. You scream into a palm clamping on your mouth, eyes rolling, brain short-circuiting into static.

Life drains—sucked out through your hole like marrow from bone, limbs jelly, held upright by spectral strings. Has he forced his way in, you almost can see him in the steam lengthen, twisting into his shape—bangs grazing your neck, a smile tracing against your skin.

“Bed—bed—” you choke, dizzy, world inverting, bile rising.

Air rips like tearing fabric. You are flung—slammed face-down on the mattress of your bed, ass jacked high, cheek grinding wet sheets that smell like the grass near the river. The dark now, shutters rattling without wind, your lock, locking on itslef.

The mattress dips under invisible weight while springs creak like attic ropes about to snap. You don’t see him, but you feel him. Cold breath ghosts your spine and makes every hair stand like a scream.

Then it hits.

His cock slams home in one brutal doggystyle thrust. Monstrous and thick as almost your wrist, veined like twisted roots with a head swollen and leaking somthing pre that burns ice-cold.

No warning. No mercy. It splits you open and stretches your cunt past limits. Walls ripping around the girth like wet paper. You howl raw and ugly with your throat shredding while nails claw sheets that bunch and tear under your grip.

“Mine,” the whisper hisses in your ear. The voice layers wrong, Heesu's but echoed from nowhere.

He pummels. Hips crush invisible while balls slap your clit with wet, obscene thwacks that echo like flesh on tombstone. Heavy, freezing orbs. Every withdraw drags inches of that veined thing out slow in torture.

Your hole gapes, clenches on air, and begs for more. Then he rams back deeper and harder. The head bulldozes next to your cervix like he’s trying to punch through to your soul. Your body jolts forward with tits swinging wild and nipples scraping sheets raw.

You sob snotty and desperate: “Too big—fuck—Heesu—s-stop!' But your cunt betrays and gushes hotter, slicker, milking somthing out of him like a greedy whore. He growls low, somthing almost inhuman. Pace turns frenzied with cock pistoning so fast the bed shudders and headboard bangs the wall like a poltergeist tantrum.

Cold hands yank your hips back in bruising force and make you meet every thrust. Ass ripples from impact. You feel it pulse inside with veins throbbing against your walls and head flaring wider to stretch you obscene.

Piss threatens in hot pressure building. You beg Hee : “Gon—gonna piss, please, please,please!!” He laughs with whispers multiplying in the room and angles deeper. He grinds that fat crown against your G-spot till you squirt arcs of clear shame that splatter on fine air, the floor, and soak everything in your ruin.

You can hear your name whispered, everywhere and nowere at the same time.

You collapse, with your cunt spasming endless and body wrecked, but he holds you up. Strings pull your limbs like a marionette and fuck you through the aftershocks till you’re babbling nonsense, vision black. His.

And it kept going. When you arrived at your dorm. In the library’s empty corners. In the shared showers on your floor.

And it kept going. When you arrived at your dorm, in the library's empty corners, in the shared showers on your floor.

Heesu was always there. You'd feel him help lift your groceries, wake you when you fell asleep at the library, scare strange guys away when you went back to the dorm. You would find yourself in your bed if you dozed on the couch, and the water already running hot when you entered the shower. He was always, always there—a presence in your bed, a faint voice in your ear, sentences shared through SMS sent from nowhere, voice cuts in the radio.

He was like a guardian angel.

But this presence had a price: strange marks on your body and such low stamina after he'd fuck you almost to death, leaving you sleeping for days and nearly collapsing.

Maybe—fuck maybe—that’s exactly what you wanted. What you needed. Unconditional love, even in death. The kind that brands, drains, owns even you dreamless nights.

end.

MASTERLIST. I need a minute… okay. GOD I genuinely thought this fic would never see the light of day but HERE IT IS 😭

Fun fact: it originally had three endings — the third one being Heesu killing Heeseung and taking his place… but that version would've triggered fear more than any mental unraveling from the MC, and it just didn’t fit the vibe in the end.

Honestly, the only thing I really want to say is: If you felt uneasy reading this… then I did my job.

I wanted to go back to my roots, and for once my theme and my natural writing style actually lined up 😭 I tried so so hard, even if the pacing feels weird in my head because of the gap between my writing sessions + the new grammar corrector I use.

I hope you enjoyed, my loves! And yes I’m begging (shamelessly!!!!) — tell me if it made you vibrate in some kind of way, if it made you feel anything 😭💖

riki was slow as he waited, but not measured. his hands would linger below your waist, his gaze never feigned innocence, and his kisses were too wet. kissing him had become its own ritual, a drug in how it was the only relief you could afford. on your bed, you on top of him, your fingers buried in his hair and your noses bumping. against the wall, his palm running up your sides before grabbing your hip. you would both be left breathless and wet-lipped, only separating when the pain of needing more was unbearable. your kisses were your personal purgatory, you were made dizzy by desire and the heaven your bodies could create was an eternity away. 

yet, you kept torturing yourselves by kissing. he had the perfect, plush lips for it and the power to rid you of all shame. the times when riki had his lips and hips to yours, his tongue down your throat and an undeniable bulge poking between your thighs, you could swear your boyfriend was the devil himself.

irresistible, scheming, that was him. understanding, considerate, that was also him. after all, he had been waiting all this time alongside you. it must have been worse for him. you could crave something you'd never had, sure, but it was mourning for riki. letting go of something he'd loved dearly, sacrificing actual pussy for his left hand, because he could never force you. if being inside you would be heaven, he decided that heaven could wait. anyways, were there to come a point where he truly reached his breaking point, riki figured that the two of you could merely sign some papers and it would be alright for him to plunge his dick inside you. just like magic.

you made it too hard to withstand, or maybe it was what he himself had done to you. he first met you and you were as innocent as could be. cotton socks and skirts long enough to trip on. you were the mature kind of clueless that came from a sheltered upbringing. the kind that felt like having all the pieces to a puzzle without knowing what image they should create. riki laughed in your face the time when you asked him how to kiss– until he grasped that you were dead serious. a pretty doll like you, shy and unkissed. however strong of a man he was, riki was not stupid enough to pass up on the chance to ruin your purity.

eventually, the skirts you wore ended right where your underwear did. if he got lucky, sometimes even higher. you had relaxed. you gained the ability to talk about things that did not centre ancient tales. riki could kiss you until you forgot that your family wanted him out of your life. after all this time, you had become dirty like your no-good, sinner boyfriend.

now his fingers dipped lower, how they always did, and you gave no signs of resistance. innocent face, but the classic teasing of a seductress. riki couldn't feel guilty about all the filthy thoughts he had involving you, when you were such a little vixen on your own. you would scold him when he got too touchy or for his dirty mouth, would try to preach to him–  in the few times he seemed to be listening– but deep down, you were exactly as degenerate. he could see it in the pretty eyes staring back at him, could hear it in the hitch of your breath, and he could taste it from your saliva on his tongue. you were a false angel.

“riki,” you whispered into the tiny space between your mouths. he couldn't tell if you were begging or warning, he only knew that he loved it when you said his name. with the weight of a prayer, with the love that would drive one to sacrifice. riki knitted his eyebrows together, breathing onto your face as he rolled his hips against yours. against became into, the damp of your panties seeping into your thin shorts, the fabrics fitting to you like second skin. your shape was defined, even more by the translucency of your garments, and it was like the real thing.

riki angled his hips so he could brush his tent on your clothed clit. that, paired with his low groan, made you soak yourself even more. if things kept going like this, you were afraid your clothes would disintegrate. always coming to the rescue, riki pulled them down to your ankles. before him for the first time, was your bare bottom half. your glistening pussy and how it leaked onto the sheets. internally, he laughed at the idea of maintaining his self-control any longer.

“ri– riki,” you stuttered, sharp with fear, “what are you doing?”

despite your words, more arousal flowed out between your legs like melting ice. riki wished, he really wished that he could savour this, but he was seriously about to bust a nut in his pants. he used his thumb to yank down any remaining obstructions, placing his dick onto your mound as if it were an altar. the warmth between you burned hottest where you met, like all your blood and energy had pooled in the centre of your bodies.

“i'm loving you, baby, how you deserve,” he murmured, always knowing just when to be gentle, “what's the big deal? it's just skin.”

to your sex-deprived mind, his reasoning made sense. even if it didn't, the anticipation you felt from having his dick right by your waiting hole was more than enough reason. riki was right. it was only your skin and the flesh beneath it, nothing that you could not repent for afterwards. you had been good enough, waited for long enough, and you had the patience to wait until you were forgiven for this transgression. 

any reservations evaporated from the surface of your mind the moment that his tip pressed into your hole. unusual, engrossing. holding your breath, you tried to get used to it like new perfume. the peculiar scent of sweat and fornication kept hitting your nostrils. it reminded you that this was real. riki on top of you– almost inside of you– was as real as the mattress your body indented, as real as heaven and hell. your heart seemed to beat in your stomach at this realisation, as if weighed down by the anvil of a decision you couldn’t undo. 

he pushed in slowly, like he was afraid of breaking you, and it reminded you of what this was: love. something smiled upon by the heavens, sacred and eternal. love entered you and filled you completely, creating a bulge in your womb.

“look at that, shit,” riki shuddered at the sight, grinding into you as pride swelled in his heart, “perfect for me.”

it was no understatement. he was snug inside, practically plugging you up, your walls wet and warm around his dick. if not for the shimmer in your eyes that begged for more, he would have been perfectly content to stay buried inside like that forever. riki, however, was a great boyfriend. he could never leave his needy girl to suffer like that, so he began to move. his slow pace brought a certain lewdness to the moment, every wet squelch that came from your bodies colliding lasted longer and seemed louder. you felt his dick as it pushed past each ridge of your gummy walls, the heat of it. the gap between your lips grew.

riki grabbed your face, brought your mouths together, and reminded you of how this all started with a kiss. you whimpered into it, music that travelled straight down to his dick.

“yeah, you like it?”

he made no effort to quicken in pace, instead relishing how your pussy greeted his dick with a tight squeeze at every slow thrust. you nodded beneath him, already a blabbering mess.

“uh huh, yes, yes, riki! feels so good, ah–!”

he cut you off with a hit to your g-spot. then another, then another, until you were screaming his name. his mouth could only swallow some of the noise. your body shivered below him, and a foreign feeling seemed close to washing over you.

“i think i'm gonna– oh my gosh, riki!”

he decided that now was the time to speed up, pull you down by the hips and get your legs to wrap around him. he drove his dick into you with a force that had you drooling, a force that was almost cruel with how it abused your poor hole. if only you knew how cruel you had been to riki by holding out all this while. his right hand, big and covered in rings, cupped your cheek before sliding down to your throat. he clenched only the tiniest bit, just wanting to hear more of your sweet whimpers.

by now, your eyes were fluttering. you saw the world in a hazy, angelic glow from the lights overhead. riki was bathed in this golden light. a man divine above you. it was a true blessing to be fucked by him.

“let go of everything for me,” he commanded, “just cum on this dick. that's all that's on your mind, right?”

you had no choice but to do as he told you to, not with his refusal to stop slamming into the place that had you crying out the loudest. riki tugged at your clit, and you were quick to gush around him, body limp and vision blanking. he continued to move as you rode the pleasure out, relentless in his actions. riki briefly considered pulling out so he could cover you in his release, defile you completely, but you were too tight for him to follow through. no, he had to stay right here inside you. he groaned as his release shot out of him, his body vibrating from the force. 

watching you fall asleep below him, riki was close to feeling bad about this. if he cleaned you up well enough, maybe you would dismiss today as a lewd dream. and if, by the unluckiest chance, your womb started to bulge from something besides himself, it could simply be a virgin birth. riki felt that he was finally getting the hang of this religious stuff. he would do just about anything for you, because he was a good boyfriend, so wasn't it only fair if you burned a little for him?

i've been writing a lot lately, don't get sick of me :<<

He’s pleasant enough. Not just to be around but to look at too and in a perfect world, he’d be your exact type, just—

“You sure you guys are going to be comfortable in that? Bring a jacket. It’s gonna be cold later.”

“Don’t eat all that sugar— you know it’ll upset your stomach.”

“Here. I’ll put it in my phone because I know you guys will forget.”

He’s the mom friend.

Never taking more than one drink because he needs to be the designated driver, always checking everyone’s location when you’re out together and if you haven’t moved for too long then he’s there to check in. The one who always has extra things that you all would typically forget but wind up needing later.

Tissues, hair ties, he even found Riki’s best friends earring when she had lost it at a party with him. It all just rubs you the wrong way.

He’s always so pleasant. Too pleasant; cool toned even and neutral about absolutely everything but gets along just swell with everyone. To them that’s ‘just how he is’. Easygoing, charming, charismatic and mature. You’ve never so much as seen him annoyed, let alone pissed off, like he’s above the drama of baser emotions.

Anger, jealousy, embarrassment, arousal, etc.

Call it curiosity or trauma; your unwillingness to relax with someone who only has one dimension and risk sipping tea with someone who could potentially be the enemy. Yet, as you stated earlier: you love your friends and you didn’t want the cliché cataclysmic ending of your group because of the new guy so you kept your suspicions about Heeseung to yourself.

What those suspicions are, you’re not entirely sure. Just that you want see for yourself that he’s not as above everything as he acts.

With that, you decided to make it a personal mission to get under his skin. Heeseung was so cold…

What would he be like burning?

•

•

It was Wednesday night.

Wednesday nights were the unofficial check in night of the week at your place. You’d lay around, fill each other in on stuff that happened while you were apart like gossip, hyperfixations, possible beefs, airdropped thirst traps and the like. Heeseung listens and comments but he wouldn’t talk much about himself. He knew almost everything there was to know about your friends but you all knew next to nothing about him.

“—and I know it’s a stupid thing to cry about but I told them 4 times that I didn’t want mustard.” Chie flops onto the carpet with a groan, retelling the lunch break from hell. “The first bite I took? Mouth full of it.”

“That’s what she said”. Jungwon chuckles from on the couch, high-fiving Kai when he laughs too. It’s so stupid you smile, shaking your head while Chie protests that this is a very serious topic and not the time for ‘that’s what she said’ jokes, looking to you with a pout so you can come to her rescue.

“Technically that wouldn’t be what she said— unless guys like teeth?” Your words turn their laughter to a pained hiss just imagining it. Chie comes to put her head in your lap, snuggling against your thighs like a cat as you coo, petting through her hair and Mina scoffs.

“You spoil her too much— s’ why she acts like such a baby now.” You hush her, throwing the pillow behind your seat at her head.

“That’s okay, she’s my baby and Won if you say ‘that’s what she said’ with your single ass—“

“Okay, okay! No fighting tonight, please guys?” Kai cuts you off only to space out before blurting, “Wait—do some guys like teeth?” The room sighs and you seem to be the only one willing to answer.

“I think so. Ask my new co-worker, apparently all he dates are piranhas.” Jay shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“That can’t be fun.” You shrug.

“I don’t have a penis so I wouldn’t know.” It’s that sentence that has a new set of eyes, silent and intense searing into you.

“You could find out.”

You blink—warm weight settles in your chest and you try to blink away the quickening of your heart. Snapping your head in his direction, your breath catches when you find him already looking at you. Heeseung. Brushing off the increasing of your heartbeat as a newly developed condition and nothing more, you scoff.

“Oh? How would I go about that, Einstein?”

His dark eyes seem to stare right through you from beneath his hood. He’s wearing all black today— a baggy relaxed fit that shouldn’t look so good for a guy that carries around iron pills in his backpack for his friends.

He doesn’t flinch at your tone. Instead his words are slow, unhurried and unashamed.

“You know… guys eat pussy. They could use teeth too.”

It’s not telling at all the deep breath you suck in, eyes widening half a fraction as your lips part. Heeseung notices it all but you’d never know that as he leans closer; expensive cologne cloying your senses when he whispers,

“You don’t have a dick but your clit is just as sensitive—if not more, yeah?”

His voice is low, amused and controlled. As if he didn’t just send you spiraling by saying such a vulgar statement in the calmest tone. Even as your friends hum and debate it in the background. Teeth or no teeth, if there’s such thing as too wet, how Kai doesn’t like piranhas but a mean girl could be the death of him, even Esther’s boss who looks like he bites. Heeseung still hasn’t taken his eyes off you— completely unaffected. He might as well have been talking about the weather and the urge to provoke something from him shoots through you.

“Are you a biter then, Heeseung?”

He lets the lilting accusation in your tone roll over his broad shoulders, facing your scrutiny head on when his voice drops half an octave.

“Oh, sweetheart..”, he croons, “I’m a lot of things.”

You don’t say anything back but he catches the quick clench of your thighs when Chie moves.

He gets along with your friends the way he gets on with everyone else. People just tend to like him. You’re different.

On the surface you tolerate him— not saying anything that would indicate otherwise or fuss when he comes around. In exchange, your eyes are constantly narrowed in suspicion whenever they’re on him. He isn’t stupid. Heeseung knows you don’t like him. You’re careful not to bring the mood down but you don’t share more with him than you absolutely have to; keeping him a maintainable distance at all times. As for why, he doesn’t have a single clue.

It’s okay, he doesn’t let it bother him but it doesn’t occur to him how irritating that trait can be.

The hangout continues as normal, your other friends oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thrumming between you two as Kai complains that Riki is never around.

“He even went to the Michael Jackson movie without me!”

“Because he went with his best friend, remember? The tall girl with the pretty everything.” Mina supplies and Won groans.

“How can we forget? They’re always together— it’s crazy they’re not dating at this point.” Jay shuts him down so fast it makes you feel bad.

“Not in a million years and don’t even think about saying that to them. You know how defensive he gets. We’d be hearing about it forever.”

Everything is the same as it always is.

At least it should be.

You spend the rest of your time together in a daze wondering just what he meant by that— the warmth from his whispered ‘sweetheart’ lingering on your skin like a dusting of powdered sugar. It’s both thrilling and irritating for you.

You’re supposed to be getting under his skin not the other way around but you’ve never heard him speak like that. He’s never been anything inappropriate or suggestive around you or your friends so perhaps that’s why it’s so jarring?

Eventually late becomes too late and one by one they all leave. Quick hugs and goodbyes along with a possible girl get together this weekend. As usual Heeseung is the last to go, having stayed to make sure everything is tidy enough and no one leaves behind anything important.

Walking him to the door in the name of being a good host, you can’t help but eye him as he puts on his boots, watching his long fingers tie the laces before standing back to his full height, locking eyes with you.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” Immediately you bristle.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You don’t like me?” He asks calmly, breath warm against your face. Even his posture is languid— like he’s got all the time and patience in world. It sharpens your tongue something fierce when you snap at him, pretty face twisting in disdain.

“No! I don’t like you.” He hums softly, a slow smile growing on his lips; cheeky.

“I’ve noticed.”

His leaving becomes less going and more of a heated stare down. You’re so aggravated you don’t know what to do or how to put the lid back on something you’ve kept bottled up for months now. You dread thinking about how your friends would react if they ever learned you didn’t like Heeseung the way they did— and all over some hunch. Your stomach flips at his words, narrowing your eyes even more.

“You… noticed?” He hums again.

“It’s fine, though. You have the right to feel how you want about me.” He says oh so soothingly and you get that familiar urge, sicker than before to just push him. Drive him off that cliff that you know he has.

That feeling agitates your pulse with each passing beat of silence, rationale flying out the window as you give into it, lips curving into a mean sneer.

“And if I feel like you’re a fake little bitch who couldn’t develop a personality if it fucked him in the ass then what? That’s fine too?”

It’s a low blow but it gets you to glimpse it. The twitch of his eye— something hard flashing beneath their depths.

“Of course”, his voice is lax as usual but the force lingering behind it makes you grin. “If that’s why you don’t like me.” You tilt your head, shrugging like he bores you.

“It is. That and the fact that i don’t like empty things.”

The way the air seems to still should’ve been your first warning to shut your mouth. You feel it, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand but you don’t listen. Heeseung doesn’t say anything, drawing his brows together in disbelief as he blinks. He’s got that look he only makes rarely when scolding your friends, stepping closer to you while that underlying tension is back— electric now.

“What did you just say to me?”

He doesn’t sound as coddling-ly soothing anymore and the rough timbre of it makes your heart hammer. With what? You don’t know anymore.

“You heard me”, you swallow, staring back defiantly.

“There’s probably no real you to even dislike. You’re like a dummy with painted on emotions because you don’t have the depth for your own—”,

“Take it back.”

Hes not angry but he’s certainly getting there. You don’t know because nobody know but his expression of himself has always been a soft spot for him. Heeseung always felt awkward growing up when trying to get closer to his peers. He would often question if he was expressing certain things correctly to the appropriate degree before he’d get shy and just give up altogether. In the end, it was the vulnerability of expressing those emotions that would embarrass him so much; not that he was feeling them.

And here you are calling him nothing more than a canvas for others primary colors since his are too monotone when they’re everything but.

He’s not annoyed, he tells himself.

Even as his hand drags up your stomach, up between the valley of your breasts to wrap his hand heavily around your throat, humming deep at the feel of your racing pulse. You glare through wide eyes, doing your best to act tough like the looming feeling that you might’ve gone too far isn’t storming over you.

His hands are big— one fitting around you like a collar. Not choking just yet, but telling you to tread lightly. Heeseung’s voice is deceptively calm as he flexes his fingers, testing his hold.

“Let’s not piss me off”, your thudding pulse skips a beat when his hand tightens in the slightest. Adjusting his grip and he’s standing so close you can feel his body heat. “Take it back.”

Doesn’t he know that’s exactly what you’re after?

Jerking your chin up, you hum. He watches your eyes roam, as if considering his request.

“No.”

Request denied.

Heeseung takes another deep breath, mentally counting to ten before he does something he regrets but the way you’re talking to him is starting to grate on his nerves. It doesn’t help that you were always sort of like this with him. Constantly doing the opposite of what he suggests, refusing his help out of sheer spite and disappearing acts that made him worry but these days you seem to enjoy fucking with him even more and every time he takes it with an easy smile; a cool shrug.

That however, was in front of your friends.

The two of you are alone now.

You gasp as his grip becomes airtight, pinning you to the cold wood of the door and crowding flush against you. You aren’t scared but you feel something much worse— warmth, pooling in your core and seeping into your panties. That dull throb.

Momentarily, you forget to account that he’s so close, filling your air with his heat when you clench your thighs together. Heeseung catches it with a slow curl of his lips, grinning like a wolf with his perfect teeth.

“You act like such a bitch that I’m not even surprised you’re wet from this.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head no. Heeseung doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Don’t lie to me”, the low growl makes your nipples harden, shivers wrack your frame at the warm puffs of air when he brings his mouth to your ear.

“I can smell her fuckin’ drooling for me.”

A pulse throbs through your cunt so strong it blurs your vision, mouth dropping open in a whine.

You’re reeling from how fast you got here. Clearly you’ve been underestimating how much your little nudges have been bothering him. Now that you know he’s not impenetrable, the logical thing to do would be to stop.

Heart shaped lips burn thick, wet kisses up your chin to your panting mouth, tongue lazily sliding across your bottom lip, tasting your chapstick with a soft groan and you find that you don’t want to do the logical thing.

You want to see how far pushing Mr. Perfect’s buttons gets you.

“Is—”, you suck in a rush of air when Heeseung lets up on your throat.

“Is that why you’re so hard? ‘Cuz you like it?”

You really need to stop talking.

“Even though you know I can’t stand your ass.”

The look he gives you alone fights the validity of your statement. It takes your breath away; how intense it is — his eyes nearly black because of you.

“Me? What about you? Your eyes are already begging for it now I just need your mouth to do the same…” You aren’t even in your body when you nod, too caught up in his proximity.

“Good but if you hated me so bad then you wouldn’t be this wet saying ‘yes’ to me.”

And before you can argue out of principle, Heeseung’s taking your mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and threadbare restraint. The nerves under your skin light up, buzzing restlessly and you moan—burned by the feeling. He’s a good kisser, you think hazily. The hand on your throat leaves to wind in your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss you deeper— filling your mouth. It feels good; numbingly good and you’re so wet.

Hazily, you suck on the tongue petting the roof of your mouth, groaning at his taste when the hand in your hair tightens— ripping off your lips with a hiss. The blood beneath his own skin turning to lava.

“See? You wouldn’t be wet at all but you are.” He catches your bottom lip with his teeth, slow and teasing before letting go.

“If you hated me you definitely wouldn’t be looking at me the way you are now.”

Self conscious, you try to blink away the lidded weight of arousal but it doesn’t work. It’s confusing. You don’t like Heeseung. Nobody knows anything real about him. You refuse to be gaslit like the others into believing that that’s simply how he is— a large castle with winding staircases and doors that all lead to nowhere. This is the most reaction you’ve ever gotten from him.

“I’m not looking at you like—”,

“Like you want me to tire you out? Make you my good girl? No more fighting me while I put you in your place?”

Oh god.

The mental image alone is debilitating as he brings his other hand to the waistband of your shorts, teasing with his fingertips in playful swirls to the skin beneath and your stomach drops.

“I really don’t fucking like you.” The trepidation is clear in your voice. Heeseung smiles.

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart.”

“Never hurts to hear it again, then.”

You jerk when his fingers dip shallowly beneath the band, brushing somewhere lower— hotter. Instinctively you arch towards the feeling. Heeseung watches you fight yourself just as hard as you battle him.

“What is it you want from me, hm? You don’t like me but I won’t accept that— not after tonight so what’s your actual problem with me?”

You don’t answer, you don’t want to. Looking to the side, you pinch your lips together and he knows you won’t spill— voluntarily at least. That’s fine.

He slots his mouth back over yours with a searing vengeance; hot, heavy and wet. It’s like he’s everywhere as you share breaths, his lips pressing and sucking at yours with teasing brushes of tongue. Brows pulling together, you whine into his mouth. While you’re distracted, the hand inside your shorts finally moves. Heeseung doesn’t let you twist away, licking into your mouth at the same time he cups your pussy from inside your panties, sliding his middle finger through your drenched lips when he pulls away to coo,

“Aww”, the mocking heat of his voice slides under your skin, paralyzing.

“You made a mess, baby.”

Your entire body jolts and your hand flies up to grip the hem of his hoodie. You might need therapy after this— you’ve never felt so many things at once for anyone let alone your sworn nemesis. It scares you but you love it at the same time.

Heeseung takes his time peppering slow kisses all over your face while he plays with your slick, hissing at the way you coat his fingers before circling your clit. It’s loud too— the steady shlick of your arousal through your pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart..”, a watery moan spills from your chest, lidded eyes looking at him as you crumble more with each sloppy stroke.

“Let her talk t’me…”

Eyes rolling, you melt.

It’s disgusting, shameful. Your pussy leaks despite it. His fingers are mean; almost cruelly indulging you as he presses harder, noting the way your legs shake when he applies pressure near the entrance of your sopping hole, making her clench.

It’s blissfull torture. The way he alternates between softer and harder, keeping you teetering on the edge with each pull but careful not to push you over by giving you what you really want. A cry rips out of you when the fingers probing your entrance thrust in, scissoring apart before he crooks them up, just grazing that spot that makes you scream — eyes whiting out — fresh spurts of slick jetting onto his hand.

“There it is… I barely brush it ‘n you and your slutty pussy go all dumb on me.”

The sound that comes after his words is one you didn’t even know you could make. Something between a grunt and needy cry injected straight into his veins as he watches you lose yourself to him. You’re so beautiful— his brat and unfortunately that’s exactly why you won’t be getting what you want. Grinding his fingers into your spot, the strums to your swollen clit turn relentless. Heeseung’s neck burns at the way you sob his name, legs shaking because he’s got you right fucking there—

Then he stops.

Your heart plummets as your rapidly approaching high fizzles out, leaving you with the uncomfortable embers of a maddening need running into a wall.

As if it needs to get out but no amount of force can break it through and the shock devastates your nervous system. With your breaths quickening, you struggle to deal with the whiplash. Glaring up at Heeseung, the look doesn’t have the bite it usually does with your eyes all glossy— trying not to cry because he goddamn edged you. His fingers remain lodged inside your slick walls but he keeps them still and his thumb off your little clit that he can feel throbbing.

Since he’s an asshole and he knows you don’t like him, the kiss he presses to your forehead is sickeningly sweet on purpose— to piss you off. He does it purely to mess with you because he knows it’s not what you need, cooing at your obvious frustration.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Ready to tell me now why you hate me so much?” You shiver at his voice, tears budding when he snaps his fingers forward— pressing hard against the ball of heat that makes those same tears spill over as you gasp but that’s all you get.

“Or do you wanna take back what you said earlier?”

You collect yourself as best you can, huffing in torn breaths as he kisses your cheeks. His dynamic is so confusing, making it so much harder to think through it all.

“I—“, you swallow your nerves, “I wanna cum.”

Heeseung’s jaw clicks.

Even now, you were still being a brat. Demanding and rude, you didn’t even say please. Kissing that pretty pout off your lips, the way Heeseung smiles when he pulls back lets you know that wasn’t the right answer and as you scramble to correct yourself before he does— it’s too late.

Squeezing a third finger past the tight ring of your drooling entrance, the stretch is mind-numbing and if it wasn’t for him holding you up, you’d have been on the ground when he curls them. Your blood rushes so hot that it hurts, heart hammering against your ribcage when his thumb beats your clit with each punishing thrust. Ashamedly fast, Heeseung feels your cunt spasm. Dipping his head, he licks the inside of your sobbing mouth just to taste your desperation. Looking down, he sees your wetness dripping down your leg onto the floor.

It sends a violent throb to his cock, wanting to bury himself inside you and stretch you out until you’re always this nice and sweet for him. That’ll have to wait because you’re trilling now; body shaking all over while your cunt sucks on his fingers when he fucks them into you knuckle deep and just like last time; when your breath starts to stutter from how close you are, he stops.

Then you actually do cry.

Fat tears spill down your cheeks when the hand in your hair fastens around your throat to hold you still when you try to chase his hand. Your chest heaves with every watery sob because it aches. You want to cum— need to cum but he won’t let you.

Heeseung watches your mind slip to shambles, bought to ruin by sheer need and it’s such a delicious look for you.

You were always pretty but you’re even better in tears. When he comes to kiss you, this time you thank him and it has a sickening shiver coiling down his spine. It’s like a victory. You did like him, you just needed his help to cope with it. Now while that doesn’t excuse your behavior earlier, the fact you want to be good for him is a step.

Shushing your cries when he pulls away, Heeseung brushes his lips across yours, voice sultry and entrancing.

“Apologize to me, baby. Say you’re sorry.”

Oh, and you’re so sweet when you do. Batting those wet lashes prettily at him, sniffling softly.

“M’sorry, Hee”, his heart stutters at the nickname everyone but you called him by, leaning up to press a kiss of your own to his lips. Tasting the want and tear-soaked desperation.

“…didn’t mean it.”

Kissing you back, you’re completely plaint for him. Mouth open as you let him take, take, take and it has him high. As a reward, his fingers pick up where they left off and you turn to mush beneath him. Incoherent babbles spill through puffy lips, apologizing and thanking him through keening moans, so pitifully wet now that you’re dripping little puddles on the floor but the tastiest thing is how you submit.

He’s got you out of your mind with everything he does to you right now; open and bared.

“I know you didn’t, pretty…”

He twists his fingers, forehead to yours while bullying your sweet spot with brutal accuracy, earning a shaky wail from you. You can’t think, there’s nothing but Heeseung up there. His perfect hands, perfect face, maddening voice all coming together to make a mess of you.

“Fuck, you look beautiful being so good for me.” The same Heeseung who could also be the death of you.

“My sweet, good girl…”

You’re close. He can feel it.

And he wants to let you come— let squirt your creamy mess all over his hand so he can suck it off and spit it back in your mouth.

He needs to get something out of you first…

“Tell me why you don’t like me”, Heeseung slows his movements so you aren’t being completely swept away by pleasure, kissing your lips to bring your attention to the words coming from his mouth.

“Good girl, baby— focusing on me. You wanna cum?”

The ‘C’ word gets you going as you nod eagerly.

“Y-yes please.” You’d build him a house and paint the entire thing with a q-tip if it meant he’d let you cum.

“Then out with it”, he sucks your jaw heatedly, undulating his fingers.

“Talk t’me, sweetheart.”

He sounds so patient, so soft— like he’s after the same outcome as you and don’t you see? He’s just trying to help. It folds you like fresh laundry on a Sunday morning as it all comes tumbling out.

“You-”, Heeseung watches a myriad of emotions in your glossy eyes.

“You never talk to us—to me…”, He blinks.

“We hardly know anything about you— you’re so neutral about everything and h-hard to read so it’s hard to feel close to you or trust you and it’s annoying because”, you pause and something suspiciously like embarrassment washes over your face.

“Because you’re like— nice I guess and really hot so we want to be closer to you but you never open up you’re just there and, and—”, You’re spiraling he realizes, so worked up your mouth is just running.

“You’re like this paragon of all things holy; you aren’t forgetful, always productive and grounded, you don’t even get mad! That’s why I try to annoy you because—!”

He cuts you off with a kiss that’s pure consumption as he fucks you until you’re delirious.

His hand is sure to leave a bruise with how tight he’s gripping you. It’s so dizzying, his thick fingers wreak havoc inside you, slamming into your g spot as he thumbs your engorged clit messily. Heeseung’s tongue laves over yours, spreading his taste all over your pallet, before sucking harshly on your bottom lip— pulling away with a throaty moan.

This entire time, you didn’t like him because you didn’t feel close to him—he didn’t let you in to feel close to him. Plus you thought he was hot but he’ll explore that later.

Distantly, he’s aware that’s you’re begging— for him not to edge you again, that you wanna cum, how you’ll be good and he knows you will with a high keen of,

“H-Heeseung pleaaase!”

Any and all traces of your little attitude problem are gone now as he turns you into nothing more than a thing.

His thing.

Your walls pulsate erratically, twitching wildly as he terrorizes your clit, fingers deep while they fuck away at the pulpy heat of your dripping pussy. Pretty eyes flutter back into your skull as your hiccuping wails rise in volume and it only makes him go harder on you.

“C’mon, pretty baby”, he purrs, nipping at your bottom lip.

“Lemme take care of it…”

He’s not even sure you hear him with how gone you look but your pussy gushing says you do. “Let me make her cum niiiice n’ sloppy— keep being my good little slut…”

Fucking hell.

The best way to describe what happens next is that you fall apart in pieces. It’s as if a torrent rips through you from how fast everything breaks and all you can do is grip his hoodie and wail through it.

A heat so overwhelming dunks over you— taking your breath away with its intensity, leaving you raw from the inside out. Heeseung watches at point blank range; you cumming so viciously that you drool when he pulses his fingers in mean ‘come hither’ motions that get you gushing. Through your shorts, on his boots— the floor; you make a mess everywhere and the debauchedness of it is beautiful.

“Mhmm…”, he rasps heatedly in your face,

“Just a dumb wet little fuckhole f’me, yeah? Only good at doing what she’s told?”

Your heart rate spikes.

Cocking a brow at you, he sticks his tongue out and you follow like a dog. Licking a fat stripe up it, riding the waves of your orgasm with his taste in your mouth when you pull away— eyes glazed over.

Heeseung bites his lip.

Oh, he’s going to have fun training you.

You never really considered him a friend so maybe he can become something else to you; something that lets him break you like this until you’re overstimulated and obedient. Pecking at his lips with watery whispered thank you’s just like you do now.

Each messy kiss is returned with a slow patience, steadily dialing you back down as he slips his hand out with a nasty squelch. He’s still surrounding you when he brings his wet hand to his mouth, a heady groan escaping at just how much there is before he’s lapping it up— sucking you right off his fingers, eyes molten as they stay locked on yours.

You taste ruined— taste like his too and it makes his blood roar.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows and you can’t help but clench at the sight.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You know what’s coming but it doesn’t make your heart race any slower when thumbs come up to stretch your mouth wide, playing with the mess on your lips before leaning over—

and spitting.

It’s like your body takes a screenshot with the way you freeze, arousal landing like a flaming arrow in your gut. You groan around the tongue now licking into your mouth, spreading the taste of your cum on your pallet, cock throbbing through his clothes as he’s pressed against you. When he pulls away, you whine; trying to chase his lips until he holds you in place,

“Stay.”

It’s firm, absolute— commanding obedience and to his immense pleasure, you listen. Body reacting immediately to the command, like a puppy showing its belly to appease their owner.

“Good girl.”

You nuzzle into his hand when he cups your cheek, basking in the dark warmth of his praise. So docile, Heeseung thinks with a subtle shiver of delight, almost suffocatingly affectionate with you now.

In the minutes that pass you wait for him to close up again— distract you while he distances himself like this never happened but he doesn’t. Looking at you like he’s unsure for the first time in his life when he blurts out—

“I like people watching.”

It’s random, makes you giggle dazedly as you shuffle to stand on his feet, wrapping your arms around his neck and it makes him a little breathless when you ask in that soft voice that was never aimed at him before when you’d use it,

“Why?”

It’s then he realizes that it’s simply you that takes his breath away. The lone star in the far end of his galaxy. It’s also why he’s making an effort now— a clumsy attempt at an invitation to his world.

“It’s a marvel”, he starts, arms wrapping around you to hold you tighter. “Seeing others show so freely the same things I feel but express naturally—unlike me. Guess I’m terrified of being that awkward kid again.”

You hum, feeling kind of bad now. You should’ve cut him some slack instead of assuming he was inherently evil. Not wanting to leave him hanging, you kiss his cheek— a soft apology as you offer,

“Well, for what it’s worth I think you’re doing amazing now.”

His eyes focus on you and you know you’ll never get used to their startling intensity from someone as attractive as him but you will yourself to stare back at the slow smile creeping on his lips. Less heat, more warm.

“Really?”

You nod, kissing him again because you can’t help it.

“Really.”

There’s something now. A quiet truce too charged for platonic friendship. You two can’t come back from this and neither of you want to. Whatever this is, is fragile so you’ll both be keeping this a secret from your friends for now…

“…I might talk too much,” He warns and you grin.

“That’s fine.”

•

•

•

In the following weeks to come, you learn a lot about Heeseung.

That he likes sweet/ floral scents and animated movies and chick-flicks with heart aching plots. He tells you about his big brother which surprises you the most because he gives off such strong only child energy. You learn that he’s a yearner— keeping his emotions buried close in his chest because that’s where he feels they’re safest. He likes company— someone hanging around even if they’re quiet, just existing around him while he does whatever.

He’s a silent overthinker. Both positively and negatively.

You both behave as you would normally around your friends but sometimes with heated glances and lingering touches when you pass by.

Then there were times like now.

The rope is harsh and tight over your skin, contrasting with the cool silk of your blindfold as it intricately restricts you. Your arms held up and together, shoulder-blades pressed back. It’s the farthest thing from what you’re used to; so accustomed to the teasing touches, the pressure that’s only a taste instead of the full serving as opposed to the overwhelming feeling of the new bindings while he touches you with no intention of stopping.

Heeseung likes many things but he loves control— tonight is your first real demonstration of how.

You’re trembling, he notices. They’re not bad tremors, no, your pussy is even wetter than it had been the first time he touched you weeks ago. Running a firm hand down the hemp rope suspending you, you gasp when you feel hands smoothing up and down your waist.

Since you couldn’t see, all you had to go off of was his touch and voice. It’s both exciting and nerve wracking because while you’re completely clothed, you don’t know if he is too and it only amplifies the power imbalance between you. Heeseung trails a line of hot, open mouthed kisses across your shoulder, his head bowed to your ear, fingers stroking over your belly.

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” Gulping, your heart is in your throat— skin tingling when you answer.

“Whatever you want.”

A dark hunger, heady and consuming washes over him. It’s so strong that it dulls the restraint he normally has over himself so he doesn’t get carried away and drag you down with him. Yes, he’d do whatever he wanted to you but the real rush comes from you verbally acknowledging that you’d let him.

His mouth waters as he lets out a pleased hum, dropping his lips to your skin as a reward for answering correctly.

Your cunt pulsates when he bites at the crook of your neck, finding your pulse point and sucking at your jugular until you’re squirming against him— needy moans filling the space. It also doubles as a distraction because you jump when you feel thick fingers ghost over the slick wetness of your sensitive pussy.

They’re light— featherlight brushes as he watches you writhe. With your legs also bound, you’re left completely open so you can’t even create friction by clenching your thighs together like you do when he teases you around your friends. Instead, you have to take what he gives you when he feels like giving it to you.

Your heart is in your throat because with Heeseung you could either be edged for hours or forced to cum until you passed out. You’d take the second option any given day. It’s a task to suppress the sigh that builds in your chest— you just wished you could see his face, what kind of expression he’s making. As if sensing the incoming anxiousness, Heeseung’s hands wrap around your thighs at the same time his knees hit the floor with a muffled thump.

“Since you’ve been so good these days…”, you try to listen but your head is spinning from the feeling of him between your legs, warm breath tickling your skin.

“I won’t make you beg the first round. ‘Kay, pretty?”

He grins as your jaw drops, turning his face and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. Your responding ‘okay’ is breathy and tantalizingly sweet as you submit to him. Little do you know he’s counting the first round as your first orgasm of tonight.

Slowly, he sweeps his soft lips across the plush fat of your inner thigh. You’re trembling is harsher now while he’s grinning like the devil. As he goes, his kisses grow more open, more wet— until your pretty painted toes pointe and your breath catches. Not being able to see amplifies your other senses to an almost uncomfortable degree, making you hypersensitive as a result. The hot sweep of Heeseung’s tongue in the hollow of your hip, teasing at the ropes edge, makes you want to beg for that mouth to be somewhere else instead.

Glossy and pretty, your pussy is soaked— lips shining from the wetness clinging filthily to her. You choke when he blows a puff of air straight on your clit just to see her twitch, letting out a hungry groan.

You feel beyond lewd, spread open like Heeseung’s personal plaything. Hands and lips are everywhere— but not in any pattern you can track and he knows you’re starting to get overwhelmed so your reaction to the sudden wet heat around your toes is 100 percent genuine.

“W-what—!” His cock throbs when you cry out, “Heeseung!”

The squirming starts up fresh, uncontrollable, as you feel the wet sensation of his tongue flickering between your toes. A hard shock crashes through you, ripping a sound out your throat that makes his nerves sing.

You feel like you’re running at least 100 degrees hotter, your teeth vibrating from it all. It’s a new experience— a cocktail of maddening pleasure and humiliation at all once. While you lose your mind to an alarmingly concerning rate, Heeseung is beating your clit with stinging slaps, black eyes devouring your every reaction.

If he wasn’t as sick of a man, he wouldn’t make it a habit to drive you to the brink of your sanity the way he does; with cruel accuracy. It’s really unfortunate for you that he has no interest in changing.

He pulls away with a crude suck to your middle, breath gusting across your wet toes.

“You’re so wet”, his amused huff makes your chest burn, more kisses pepper across the tops of your toes before he moves to do the same to your other foot.

“Drippin’ like a slut all on my fucking carpet…”

The harsh words are cooed, as if you’re little more than a puppy who hasn’t been housebroken and just can’t help it, adding to your arousal and embarrassment. A choked whine gets trapped in your throat when he slides his tongue across the tips of your toes, slipping his mouth over each one individually to suck.

He’s so gross.

Its debasing.

Your heart drops when you suddenly feel how close it has you.

Without missing a beat, the sharp spanks switch to quick swipes. Heeseung rubs the flat of his fingers side to side across your twitching clit, pulling your toes off his tongue in favor of biting your calf when you start to shake. He can see your leaking hole clench and unclench, even if he ordered you not to, he’s got you so wound up it’d be a dying mission from the first syllable. Jesus fuck, you’re loud now— making your own ears ring with viscerally raw moans.

How adorable. His little slut is in heaven, head tipped back, eyes more than likely rolled behind your blindfold in bliss, clitty aching as your messy cunt starts to convulse.

“Ooh— yeah, gooood girl…”

The the praise takes you to another stratosphere completely, sobbing as your orgasm hits. It’s crushing and you swear you’re dying and the blood in your veins is actually electricity. All your senses seem to hone in on your pussy as Heeseung drags you kicking and screaming to a squirting fit.

“There we go… that was big one, baby— don’t pass out on me.”

And you’d love to listen but he’s making it so hard.

When he finally stops, you’re hanging on by a thread. Sweaty body one raw nerve; exposed, wet and twitching.

The rope now feels good so tight around your body as you slowly start to slip and fuck— the headrush it gives him. It’s exactly how he wants you; plaint, sweet, eager to bark and do any trick he wants just to please him.

“Still with me, sweetheart?”

You don’t exactly hear what he says but you know he’s talking to you, sounding awfully patient for someone who just send your soul on a universal trip. So, you’re proud when you manage to answer him with a hoarse,

“Mh— y-yeah.” Good. Very good; and since you came that means…

“First round’s over. Know what that means?”

Heeseung watches you swallow but you don’t answer out loud not just because your soul is still stumbling its way back into your body but because you know.

“…means the real fun is about to start.”

You’d complain if you didn’t crave Heeseung so bad— from the first night and then all the ones after, you’ve been so strung out over him.

Your ears perk up when you hear the sound of a belt then some rustling, everything on your body standing at attention in anticipation as you lick your lips.

“Please”, voice shy, “I want it, need you—”

Spreading open your sticky swollen folds, making you feel even more exposed when Heeseung cuts you off with a starving lick up your pussy. A sharp gasp is punched through your lungs at the deep lap from your hole to your clit.

He French-kisses her like he’s missed her and she reciprocates by bursting slick on his tongue. He feels you out with eager licks, working over and between your folds like he’s trying to lap up all the mess that’s dripped out. Having just cum, the stimulation borders on pain but the sweetest kind. Just the slick, tickling warmth of his tongue already has you buzzed and tingly.

A sharp keen spills from your lips when he pulls away with a harsh suck to your gushy hole only to spit; the wad of saliva and cum landing hot and nasty on your clit as he moans.

“Fuuuck… slutty crybaby pussy always tastes the best.”

Your entire body spasms, like you’ve been struck by lightning. Heeseung doesn’t care, humming as he goes back to eating, tongue flat and greedy. Trilling sobs pour from your mouth, broken and cracked. When his mouth closes over you, blanketing your clit in heat, the last bits of coherency leave you with a tear-wrought wail.

No matter how you writhe or squirm, you can’t escape from the relentless pull of Heeseung’s lips. You’re completely gone as his cheeks hallow— sucking the fat of your poor, sensitive nub in sloppy voracious slurps that make the tendons of your legs strain within the rope underneath his palms.

He’s a messy eater, too.

The erotic sounds of him making out with your pussy are vile— wet and unabashed, sending vibrations through you with every pleased hum. You won’t last much longer like this. Your pussy is just too engorged, way past oversensitivity and again; he’d care if he was a better man but he isn’t and the taste of you is like heaven.

Nothing coming from your mouth is comprehensible, just a jumble of warbled begging and shattered syllables that make up his name. The heat from your intensely approaching orgasm makes you sweat as it builds in your core.

Sliding three fingers in, Heeseung is brutal— curling his fingers straightaway into that melty nook that has the next lap of your slick tasting thicker, creamier. His face is coated in you but he doesn’t stop; not even when you go limp, screaming as you cum so violently it gives you cramps.

Your noises mix with the sappy squelching of Heeseung’s mouth glued to your raw pussy, working you over until it hurts. There’s nowhere to go, no way to get away from the waves of agonizing euphoria— not with how tightly he’s got you tied up. His cock throbs when you clench tight around the thick fingers, shaking apart under his gluttonous mouth.

Every sound grows impossibly distant the longer he prolongs your orgasm. Your own desperate whimpers, Heeseung’s purring growls, the lewd slap of his palm as he fingerfucks you open. All that exists, all that feels real is the white hot pleasure shredding through you as you wail and beg as best you can before he makes you faint.

Thankfully, he’s in a merciful enough mood. Popping off your spent cunt with a satisfied sigh and one more kiss, sucking you off his fingers while you go boneless.

It takes a while for the shivers to subside.

It takes even longer with the next heavy blink to realize you can see. Blurry vision suddenly filled with the same handsome face you’ve started to see in your dreams lately, drenched heart-shaped mouth tilted in a satisfied grin. A hand brushes across your sweaty forehead and you realize with a dizzy giggle from his bare arm and all over that he’s naked now.

A beat passes before he’s kissing you. It’s softer, not as consuming but grounding because that’s what you need. Your face feels feverish as he cups it, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You’re doing so good”, he praises warmly, “So perfect f’me, my pretty girl.”

Minding the time, he starts to loosen the ropes to bring you down. With you being new to all of this, he doesn’t want to risk hurting you by keeping you restrained and suspended in one position for too long. The rope slides out through the rig easily as you breathe deeply, letting him maneuver you this way and that until you’re free, massaging your limbs to help your blood flow when he lays you on soft bedding.

The cool sheets are lush and soothing against your heated skin, Heeseung kissing the marks left behind from the rope.

Eventually, those kisses trail lower— down your sweat slick spine, over the globes of your ass, the back of your thighs all the way to the soles of your feet as you melt into his bed. It’s all so nice, you can’t help but wonder if he’s gonna fuck you.

“Like you won’t believe…” He rasps, already tilting your hips up until you’re on your knees, back sloped in the most delicious arch.

You didn’t even know you were talking out loud but that train of thought is ejected when you feel him position himself behind you, sliding between your wet folds. Your mind goes entirely blank, clean slate.

He’s hard as steel.

And fucking big.

The thickness of it spreads your lips open, fat veins kiss your clit with every rock of your hips. Heeseung is tall but not bulky so you knew his dick being above average was a possibility but this? He grinds with you, following your rhythm as he grips the back of your neck, pinning you to the bed as you let out a shaky moan.

“Look at you”, his low voice taunts, all heat.

“Haven’t even put it in and she’s slobbering all over me, messy fuckin’ girl...”

Embarrassment floods your face as you turn your head to hide in a pillow but Heeseung is having none of it. His hand leaves your neck to fist your hair, yanking your head back. He hisses when he feels your clit throb against his length at the pain.

“No, be good and say it”, he growls, nudging the fat head of his leaky tip on your entrance, teasing you with the pressure.

“Tell me what my hole wants, baby.”

When you hesitate, he pops in with just the tip only to snatch it out before you can even enjoy the stretch. Reaching up for his hand, you keep your eyes locked on his as you put his palm to your throat, voice shaking with need.

“She wants”, you swallow, “she wants you to use her— fuck her till she’s gaping— ngh!”

He pushes in in one nasty thrust, pelvis flush to your ass, stuffing himself deep inside your spasming heat.

Somewhere between the way your blood immediately starts burning through your skin and the addictive pleasure of being stretched to the point of pain; you know Heeseung’s already ruined you. A guttural cry leaves your lips, strangled when he tightens his hand.

“Damn— y’little pussy’s choking my shit”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You strain to hear him through the cotton filling your head. Heeseung pulls out as your cunt spasms around his dick so he can slam back in, hips snapping in a mean pace. Realistically, he knows he should be the responsible one that he always is and hold back a little but god he loves you like this too much to stop.

It’s a wonder of its own how you don’t even sound like yourself anymore, keening high and cockdrunk while your sloppy hole drips pathetically down his balls.

Everything becomes stimulation at this point. The air conditioning in the room against your hot skin, the sheets rubbing your puffy nipples raw— even the sting in your scalp when Heeseung pulls your head back until he can see your face. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead but he doesn’t even seem to care as he looks into your dazed face, pupils blown.

You’re looking at him like he’s something you’d spend the rest of your days worshipping and it quickly becomes too much, fingers winding tighter in your hair before shoving your face into the pillows.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that”, he moans, jaw clenched. “Hearts all in those pretty eyes like you’re in love with my dick—”

As soon as he says it, your walls clamp hard around him and just like that any thought of going easier on you vanishes. Angling your position until he finds that sweet spot that makes you cry before absolutely pummeling away at it.

Your wails vibrate your throat, body fighting to keep the arch hes got you in, teary eyes rolling back with so much force it makes your head hurt. The pleasure grows with an intensity that threatens to tear you apart— leaving you in tatters on his mattress. Each sob takes you closer to your end and it’s too good to fight. Heeseung drags the edges of his teeth across the back of your neck, grinding balls deep just to feel your begging pussy throb around him.

Giving into the urge to eat you up, his tongue falls out as he tastes the salt on your shoulder. He lets out a greedy hum as he places a wet kiss to your ear but it’s too much and the next roll of his hips has your knees shaking as your cunt creams all over him.

“Oh fuck— hah, she cummin’ already?”

The way he says it makes you feel humiliated but you can’t help it. Your orgasm takes you completely by surprise as your stuffed pussy aches, leaking and twitching while Heeseung fucks you dumb. You try to collect yourself despite the shockwaves of overstimulation— a useless attempt because he’s suddenly thumbing precise circles on your swollen clit, sending your nerves into overdrive.

You’re trying so hard to come down but Heeseung won’t let you. He keeps your brain pooling out of your puffy wet pussy, moaning breathily as your walls spasm. Precum streams from the head of his fat cock, smooching slimy full kisses right up against your g spot. Chest burning, you swear you’re losing your mind, squirming enough to disrupt his pace.

Clicking his teeth, Heeseung lifts himself off you. He doesn’t pull out but instead large hands grip your waist as he flips you onto your back, hiking your knees up to your ears as he presses his toned body flush to yours and your mouth drops in a soundless scream.

He feels even deeper now and even better because now Heeseung is able to watch how debauched your face looks melting from being out of your mind with pleasure. Nipping your jaw, making you cry with vicious strokes.

“You’re such a slut, letting me fuck you like this.”

He hisses in your face as you sob in bliss. He’s so deep he might as well be in your guts but you still mange to keep looking at him like that. Y’too pretty to be staring at him though those wet clumpy lashes like he’s the best there ever is, was, and is yet to come.

“Fuck, baby—told you to stop with the looks.”

With a rough groan, his own eyes soften with furrowed brows as his mouth falls to yours, a new edge prickling at his senses. Your mouth is eager, plush lips parting at the first lap of tongue, welcoming him with your own swirling messily around his. You’re both raw for each other, getting out the intensity of your emotions in the most desperate way you know how. Physically. There’s so much, too much, and not enough but you’re close more than anything else and so is Heeseung.

The sloppiest sounds fill the room, headboard slamming against the wall as you part with an erotic smack.

Heeseung’s hand cups your jaw, cooing down at you with lidded eyes as he pets your tongue with his thumb.

“Good girl…so easy f’me,”

You’re sopping wet— not just your pussy but your mouth too and it sends shivers up his spine. Cock throbbing hotly, he swears the longer he looks at you, the closer he gets. Your warbled moans vibrate his thumb as he leans closer, warm breath ghosting into your mouth before he spits a wad of saliva down the back of your throat.

The way you tighten have his eyes fluttering back along with your sweet babbles that make his cock pulsate, full balls aching. You feel so good it leaves him desperate, impossible to think clearly. He could have you like this and worse a million times but it’d never be enough.

He’s started to become a habit you can’t kick and one you don’t want to either. So, you go boneless beneath him— let his pelvis grind your poor clit, wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him back like you wouldn’t be in therapy for months after this.

There was never a slow build, the heat festering inside him was there from the moment you showed up at his apartment. It burned hotter with everything you’d do— your cries, your begging, those looks you gave him, and how fucking delicious you looked at his mercy. Especially now, you’re still being so good for him. Trying to endure the filthy way he’s bruising your guts with each wet slap until the hairs at the base of his torso are slathered in your juices.

“Mmhm, that’s it baby— make a mess on my dick when you cum on it”,

The heated words add to your blissed out delirium, chest heaving in ruined, hiccuping bleats. Your ankles cross around the back of his neck with your arms, keeping him as close to you as possible because you need to feel it, him paint your walls. Each twitching pull of your impending orgasm brings him that much closer to falling off the same cliff.

“Yesss, your pussy’s too good”, he moans, slurred and hot. “I’m so close— where do you want me, sweetheart?”

“Insideee!” You choke out, begging for it with how you tighten around him. “It’s yours! C-cum inside— pleaaasee!”

Dropping his head against the pillows next to your head with a groan, Heeseung presses his weight into you, fucking you like your hole is his personal fleshlight. He makes you take it until you can’t anymore— reaching your limit as your jaw drops, limbs twitching as all the sensations trample over themselves.

You tighten so much that he can’t move, fat cock throbbing with your molten pulsing walls that contract, trying to push him out with the force but soak him instead.

“Ugh— fuck!”

The hot gush of your pussy makes his mind go blank, losing control as the tingling filthiness sets off his own orgasm, dick swelling to the point of pain before streams of thick cum join the obscene mess between your thighs. Yeah, you’re so fucked. Not just because the same guy who is in charge of keeping everyone’s ID is also the best dick of your life but because you like him. Feeling his cock shoot rope after rope against that gooey spot inside you for over a minute, Heeseung nuzzles against your now limp form.

The gentle kisses being sprinkled over your face don’t help you stay awake but they’re nice.

It’s quiet too, the charged air settling down after a few minutes. Heeseung eases your legs down slowly, massaging them like earlier. Moving consciously, he slips out of you as gently as he can. He’s still tingling when he looks down to see his cum drip out of your gaping hole.

Briefly, he gets the urge to lick it out but your pussy is completely enflamed— a sign that you’ve had enough for one night. With that, he hums softly, crawling over your body to kiss all over your heated skin, waiting until you’ve caught your breath a little to call your name.

Your responding hum is light and sweet from exhaustion and it makes him smile when you return a few of his kisses.

“Come on, baby,” you groan when he tries to move you and he feels the grin before it appears.

“We gotta get cleaned up.”

Another groan. It might be childish of you but you don’t care, you want a nap.

“And you have to pee—”, you groan even louder this time, turning your head too to show him you’re (very poorly) ignoring him.

Fine.

Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he gets off to grab your ankles, dragging you down to the foot of the bed where he picks you up.

The gasp you let out is a little too interested and your hope he doesn’t notice but those dreams are swiftly dashed when he quirks a brow, kissing your forehead with a telling smirk. Ugh, you hate when they know.

“Later—you need to pee and so we can take a bath, pretty.”

You sigh, still displeased because you’re tired but a bath with Heeseung sounds heavenly.

“Then we can take a nap?” He nods, setting you down in front of the toilet with a grin.

“Of course.”

You try to sound like you’re put out as you finally pee but your heart pounds at the care he’s dedicated to giving you. Embarrassingly enough though, he’s still standing there naked as the day he was born, watching you pee and fight sleep with a curious smile while you struggle to hide one of your own.

“Can I help you?” You sass.

He shakes his head, looking at you too fondly for fake frenemies before he goes to start preparing your bath.

It would be a lie to say you don’t fall asleep halfway through, laying back on his chest in warm scented water with his perfect fingers tracing mindless patterns on your arms. You feel like everything he’s ever been afraid to feel in his arms, light breaths leaving your mouth while you rest.

He doesn’t know what you two are just yet but he knows he’s not doing this with anyone else and maybe when you wake up, he’ll ask if you feel the same.

+

-

+

When you come to, you’re in bed alone and suspiciously clean. Even the bedding is different, light streams through the curtains as you look around but there’s no Heeseung. Frowning, you get out of bed, taking note of the large band t shirt you’re in to go look for him.

Walking through the hall, your legs shake with strain. A wave of embarrassment hits you for a reason you refuse to address without a professional present when you hear a soft noise from the kitchen. Feet padding softly, you slowly make your way down the stairs.

Nothing prepares you for what you see.

There— in the kitchen making breakfast is Heeseung…wearing nothing but an apron.

As he turns around at the sound of your scandalized gasp, he gives you a devastating smile, all mischief and cheek.

“Good morning, baby.”

You can only gape at him, speechless.

You sigh in his hold, pressing soft kisses on the column of his neck. Jungwon shivers as your lips find the sensitive skin of his throat, his hands clenching at your waist at the feel of your fangs softly grazing the skin. He tilts his head back slightly to give you better access, a soft moan escaping his throat. His hands move to your hips, gently shifting you until you're on top of him. He wants — needs — to feel your entire body pressed against his, to feel the weight of you on top of him. Your lips trail up to his jaw, your kisses getting more and more open mouthed by the minute. Jungwon’s hands slide up under your night dress, finding the soft skin of your thighs and tracing lazy patterns on your skin. He growls softly — a low, possessive sound — and tightens his grip on your thighs when you start gently nipping at his jaw. You smile against his skin, dragging your fangs along the skin of his neck, back to his pulse point, at the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

His fingers press hard into your thighs again as you move to his pulse point, a sharp gasp leaving his lips. A wave of heat pulses through him, his hips involuntarily bucking upwards. His breathing is coming in ragged gasps. “Harder” he growls, a hint of desperation in his voice as he murmurs against your skin. “Make it hurt.” “Masochist.” You murmur against his skin. His body tenses, his breath leaving him in a sharp hiss as your fangs pierce his skin. His hands tighten on your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. The pain is sharp, but it's exactly what he wanted. What he needs. You hum against him at the taste, slowly drinking from him. He lets out a low moan, eyes are closed, lips parted, and the only sounds that pass his lips are short, shallow gasps of air. The pain is sharp, throbbing and it makes his head spin with pleasure. You sit back up, lips and chin stained with his blood, some of it dripping onto your white nightgown, blooming on the fabric like wild roses. 

Jungwon’s eyes flutter open, his gaze instantly falling on you. The sight of you straddling him, your lips and chin stained with his blood... the white night dress you're wearing, the blood staining your skin makes his head spin. He lets out a low, guttural growl at the sight. He sits up straight, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him, his hardened cock meeting your drenched heat over the fabric of your clothes. “You look beautiful in red.” He murmurs, eyes fixed on you. “Thank you baby” You whisper, leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He almost surges forward, his mouth capturing yours in a bruising kiss. The taste of his own blood on your lips somehow turns him on even more. His hands are back under your night dress, gripping your waist so hard there will be marks in the morning. He kisses you like he's drowning, like you're the only air he needs to breathe.

Your lips move against him, tongues dancing together. It's sloppy, desperate and needy. Your right hand trails up his arms to come up to his neck, pressing against the bite. Jungwon lets out a ragged moan into the kiss as your fingers press against his still-raw bite, the sting sparking pleasure straight through him. His body arches up beneath you — hips grinding hard against yours in instinctive response. “Fuck- yes.” He growls between broken kisses. “Fuck.. Do it again.” You press harder against the bite before pushing your now blood soaked fingers between his lips, your kisses darting to the side of his mouth. Jungwon’s eyes go hazy the moment your blood-soaked fingers press between his lips. He groans into the kiss, his tongue tracing the pads of your fingers like it's the most sinful, delicious thing he's ever tasted. The salty, coppery tang of his own blood and the sweet taste of your flesh – it's an addictive mix. He’s breathless under you, his hips rocking into yours. “More.” He gasps as your lips darts back to his jaw. 

“Anymore than that and I’m eating a chunk out of you my love.” You murmur against the column of his neck. Jungwon’s breath hitches, a shudder running through his entire body. He's always in control — always taking charge. But your words, soft and gentle against his neck... it leaves him weak. Your thighs straddling his lap like it's exactly where you were meant to be. He's barely able to pant out a few words. “Do it... god, please.” You press a last kiss to his Adam apple before trailing down to the crook of his neck. Jungwon bucks his hips up in anticipation, earning a soft moan from you. His eyes drift shut, his head falling back against the headboard as you make your way down his neck. His hips buck up against yours again, a low, guttural moan leaving his lips — a plea for more, a desperate request.

“...Please.” You press a last kiss to his skin before your teeth skink in the curved swell of muscle just beneath the neck — the perfect place to bite, to claim, without destroying. Jungwon’s entire world narrows down to the sudden pain of your teeth sinking into his skin. It's agony and ecstasy mixed together — his entire body tensing, his head thrown back, his hands clutching at your hips to keep himself from moving too much. His breath comes out in shuddering gasps, punctuated by low, guttural moans of pain. “Ah- ah- fuck-” He chokes on a breath, his fingers digging into your skin. He wants it to hurt, craves it. And the only thing anchoring him in reality is the feel of your body on his, the sound of your breath in his ears. His hands clench tightly at your thighs, his voice hoarse from the strain as he gasps out through gritted teeth.

“Harder... more... god, don't stop.” You pull back softly – so softly it's almost gentle amidst the pain you're inflicting him. –  slowly tearing a piece of him. A feral, guttural noise leaves Jungwon’s throat as you slowly tear a chunk of his flesh. He has to swallow back a scream of pain, his vision going white for a moment from the pain — how good it feels. The sound that tears from him instead is a strangled gasp of pain, half a curse, half a prayer. “Ah god, gods, y/n... please…” He shudders, hips jerking violently upward as he spills his load in his pants — unexpected, uncontrollable — his climax wracking through him like lightning. He's writhing against you, trying to arch up into you, despite the blinding pain radiating through his body. Every muscle locked in a feverish mix of pain and pleasure so intense it borders on delirium. His breath stops. His heart, slow from being what he is, stutters like it's trying to catch up with the overload. 

When you finally pull back fully and lift your head, blood smeared around your mouth and dripping down your chin… he’s trembling, dazed. Marked… Yours. His eyes — glossy with pain-thickened pleasure — are wide open, staring at you like you’ve just torn apart his soul and put it back together all at once. The amount of blood – his blood – on you is obscene. The thick liquid is dripping down your chin and lips, the fabric of your nightgown soaked in it. And in your right hand, the small piece of flesh from his shoulder. Jungwon lies against the headboard, breathing ragged and shallow, his body still trembling from the aftershocks. The wound on his neck pulses darkly — already knitting closed at the edges, but not fast enough to stop the glistening pool of blood spreading beneath him. He feels dizzy. Lightheaded. His head is still spinning from his orgasm… but none of that matters. All he sees. All he can see… is you.

“...beautiful.” Jungwon whispers, voice hoarse and raw. And then he smiles. Weak. Dazed. Ecstatic. “You... look…” A hoarse noise escapes him. “... so fucking perfect.” You stay perched on his laps, pressing down against his softening cock, sloppily licking your fingers. You turn your attention to the piece of flesh, in your hands. The bloody, torn muscle from your lover. Jungwon lets out a choked, breathless groan as you press down against him—still sensitive, -- and then... when you start to eat him, slowly, deliberately... His eyes rolled back. “Fuck.” He can't look away. Shouldn't look. It should disgust him. But it doesn't. You're consuming a part of him — literally — and there's no greater claim than that. It feels sacred. Worshipful. And he’s offering himself to you freely. His body may be healing — slowly — but his desire? It hasn’t faded. Not with you devouring a piece of him. He watches you licking your hand and fingers clean with a dark, almost delirious kind of longing. His hand trembles as it reaches for you — not to stop you, not even to touch your face — but just barely grazes your thighs with his fingertips, like he needs the contact but doesn’t deserve more.

You lean towards him, bloody fingers bloody finger gently grazing the wound on the crook of his neck as you kiss him softly. He lets out a broken moan into the kiss, his body arching up weakly beneath you despite the lingering pain. When your bloody finger brushes over the wound—the raw, still-tingling bite—he gasps against your lips, eyes fluttering shut. “Again.” He whispers hoarsely, voice turning feverish, worshipful, desperate. “You can have every piece of me. Cut me open. I’ll take it all- I’ll bleed for you every time.” You smile softly, looking at your lover, so devoted, so reverent. “What do you want my love?” You ask softly, still soaked and stained with his blood. “Anything.” He whispers. “Everything.”

©RAVEN-UNKIND  —   reblog, comments and likes are appreciated!

 as his limbs grew and his voice settled into its trademark deepness, riki had graduated from dancing and had begun to sing as well, him and his cheap guitar. the sun beaming in the midday sky, but riki shining so much brighter, leaning his back on the coarse brick wall as he drank water to ease the strain on his vocal chords. puberty had yet to finish with him, lingering by him as if enamoured, and you could relate to it– refusing to leave him behind. you remembered it vividly how you would glance at the school's chain gates as you complimented him, your shaky fingers fidgeting with one other. riki's thin fingers ruffling thick, dark strands and his low laughter in response to your praise. how could he have done that to your frail heart? the heart that raced in the cage of your ribs, like an anxious animal in captivity, to make it crystal clear how earnestly it yearned for him. it was too cruel.

 between your lovesick thoughts– incessant daydreams that got you into trouble more than once– and the numerous crumpled confessions in the shoebox under your bed, riki had consumed you. you knew it was more than a crush– your devotion was too strong– but also knew better that it could never be more than fantasy. riki was a star, so pretty, so unreachable. he dazzled before your eyes, yet you could never touch, an eternal tease. the prize on the top shelf. your arms had grown weary from stretching out to him. you resolved to let him go as you became an adult, your days shifting from long-winded scoldings and half-cooked school lunches to entitled patrons and overpriced laundromats, and that had worked out great for you– you even had a boyfriend now. life could not have turned out any better, so it was okay if riki remained where you couldn't grab him. it was better this way, the feelings of emptiness kept you humble.

 -♡-

 your apron was stained and you tried not to think about it, like you tried not to think about the assignment you had due in under an hour. that would resolve itself, somehow. there were too many things you wished you could ignore, drown out with music, but you weren't taking the risk of getting another order wrong, not after last time. you still had night terrors of being yelled at for making a drink with the wrong milk to sugar ratio, so maybe the scoldings of your youth hadn't truly escaped you. like how you saw riki in other people– his sharp eyes or tall frame– your longing for him manifesting into the physical, maybe you were still haunted by your youth.

 rebellious strands of your hair obscured your vision whenever you looked down at your hands, refusing to make the slightest mistake as you cleaned up for the day. you could only wish that your wage would one day match your effort.

“so, are you going?”

her voice was as soft as it had always been. you weren't really friends back in high school, but there were so few of you there that everyone was kind of familiar, like a distant relative or a friend from kindergarten. you could picture their fuzzy, pimpled faces and the braces in their smiles, remember a comedic nickname or two, but not much past that.

“going where,” you asked, untying your apron absent-mindedly, it had become something automatic. you were already planning what you would be reheating for dinner, what playlist you would walk home to, and what excuse you would give to your professor. you had your priorities straight.

“do you live under a rock? riki’s performance is, like, tomorrow.”

you couldn't believe that your body still responded to his name, heat creeping up your neck. you remembered now, who he had become. ‘ni-ki’, his artist name. when first you saw it, you weren't even surprised. his soundcloud page glowed in the two a.m. darkness of your room, you in the usual rabbit hole that ruined sleep pushed you into. his account showed that he had amassed a decent following, and you couldn't deny that you had felt some pride in seeing him realise the ambition that he'd had for as long as you'd known him. he was never the type to abandon what he loved, what made his blood shake. you had discovered his page just a year ago, and now he was already on tour?

“ah, cool,” you uttered, heart heavy, frowning at the shiny floor that reeked of bleach. your favourite secret had become national news, globe shattered into glass shards that anyone could take a piece of.

“don't sound so bummed out, you won't have to pay.”

your eyes flew up and she giggled at how easy it was to read you, or at least she thought it was.

“it's like, he's letting in whoever he recognises, supporting his hometown or whatever,” she explained, “which is weird ‘cause i swear he moved here when he was, like, sixteen.”

“yeah, but he started the whole music thing here,” you had interjected without thinking.

“oh, true.”

you saw her smile stretch into something of teasing ridicule and you loathed what you knew was coming.

“didn't you totally have a crush on him? maybe now's your chance”

the downside of working alongside someone you had schooled with– which, in a town this small, was annoyingly close to inevitable– was that 

your past could never stay buried in your memories. it was in a shallow grave for anyone to unearth.

“what are you talking about,” you dismissed with unconvincing, feigned confusion, “and, anyways, i have a boyfriend.”

the word always tasted wrong on your tongue, like medicine, and you could not picture the right boy when saying it.

“forgot about him,” she shrugged, and you hated that you could relate, “take him with you, whatever. i'll see you there, if you go.”

watching the glass door shut, you became aware that closing-up duty was now fully yours. how fun. at least it gave you some more time to think, but you weren't sure you wanted that. in fact, you were sure of the exact opposite. 

 -♡-

cheek on your pillow, phone in your hand, your thumb typed out ‘ni-ki’. his profile picture featured only part of his face, the phone he used to take the selfie masked the rest. his hair was dyed, the way that you knew he wanted it to have been back then, honey blond and messy. the squares, beneath his bio of tour dates, were capsules of his essence. outfits, friends, scenery, and it was clear he was the one who had carefully taken each photo. his most recent post, only from yesterday, was a picture of who he used to be. black hair, brick wall, the boy you used to love. the caption read ‘see you soon’ with a fire emoji. those sharp eyes stared you down through the screen, gaze reaching into your soul. suddenly off put, you quickly liked the post and followed him, then closed the app. waves of nostalgia washed over you and you could have drowned in them, but you didn't want to unpack those memories anytime soon. you kept your head above the water, turning off your phone and staring at nothing in particular. 

your breathing had already slowed, your eyes shutting, when the object in your grasp began to vibrate. the screen lit up from the incoming call, light nearly blinding amidst the darkness, showing a contact named ‘jake’ without any indicators of your relationship to him. you recalled him complaining about it once, struggling to maintain his pout as you combed through his fluffy, brown hair, his head between your thighs. he claimed it was too plain, too distant, and you said that it didn't matter. he was always fussy about things like that, needing constant reassurance on your love for him, yet he would protest when you compared him to a puppy. a little timer started once you answered the call, his slightly distorted voice greeting you.

“what's up?”

you took some time to respond, wondering why you hadn't just let the phone keep ringing.

“hello? you there?”

“yeah,” you muttered, “i'm okay. gonna see ni-ki tomorrow.”

you were grateful that jake wasn't from your town, didn't know about your history with the other man, couldn't recognise the weight his name held for you.

“without me? i can't make it, i already agreed to go fishing with sunghoon, and i've cancelled on him so many times for you, baby, he hates me!”

“you don't have to come,” you were quick to say, cutting him off from rambling any further, “i was just telling you.”

his end was quiet, but it was as if you could hear him frowning.

“okay,” he whined, “but what time does the concert end? can i pick you up at least?”

“i'm not sure, don't worry about it. have fun tomorrow, bye.”

the timer had only counted up to a minute when your finger rushed to the red button.

“already? bye, i love–”

the call disconnected. 

you weren't sure why you kept doing this with jake. you had been together for a little over a year and he was great, but he wasn't him– wasn’t riki. you hated yourself for thinking that. childish, delusional, trying and failing to get over a teenage crush. every kiss, every touch, you regretted not saving it for riki and that was pathetically disgusting. what kind of crush felt this way, anyway, like illness? he clouded your mind and refused to ever leave, reducing you to nothing but yearn. sometimes, when you pulled back from a kiss and hoped you would magically open your eyes to see riki, it felt as if all you were made for was to want him. some cursed sprit, only acting upon your base instincts and regrets from an unfulfilling life, wafting along with a hollow heart.

 jake would give you this innocent look from time to time, with brown puppy eyes that saw the world in yours, and you would wonder why you didn't just break up with him. maybe his innocence was to blame. you would do everything but break up with him and take the risk of him wailing by your feet and begging you not to. you would wait until the day when he got fed up and left you on his own. unfortunately, you didn't believe that could happen anytime soon.

 -♡-

cloth was a makeshift carpet on the wood of your floor, heaps of clothes that you had tried and discarded. you felt your frustration creeping to the front of your mind with each top you ripped off of yourself, unable to grasp whether the problem was with the clothes or with your body, and the day felt ruined before it had even begun.

despite what you told yourself, what you tried to make yourself believe, you wanted nothing but to look good for riki. he would likely never take notice of you, but for the sake of the slightest chance that he did, you had to be worth the attention. you thought of him still seeing you as you were in high school, your reaction being an embarrassed sound between a whine and a whimper. riki, the rockstar, and you, the awkward dweeb from your past with uneven pigtails. it was a repulsive possibility that renewed your vigour, hands sifting through the fabric pile until you, at long last, found something that complimented you.

in the background, you had ni-ki's spotify open (he had progressed from soundcloud) and his low voice was a constant in your room. the sound vibrated through your space, making your heart race. you had missed this, missed him as you fought to forget him, but you felt, from the deepest reach of your soul, that you would never get over him. why even fight it?

he sung about life and lust, made you wonder all what he had been up to since the time his hair was ink with all its blue and purple undertones, a capture of the night sky, before his gaze had sharpened. you would see the new and refined riki in a less than an hour, a future that kept your stomach churning. a small chat would suffice, you would be glad to have just one word with him, to hear his laughter after so long, but that couldn't happen if your whole body was trembling at the mere thought of riki being a tangible being in your life.

deep breaths and a glance at the clock steadied you before you grabbed your phone from your bed. it buzzed with a ping and the screen lit up with a text message banner. jake wished for you to have fun, complete with a heart and smiley face, so typical of him, but the notification below is what caught your eye. from instagram, ‘@_chromeki added to their story.’ your thumb moved before your mind, and you were rewarded with his selfie. like always, his eyes seemed to stare beyond the screen. his plush lips were tugged into the slightest smirk, or maybe it was simply the lighting– the shadows it cast over his face– that made the photo seem so flirty. even more so with the text ‘can't wait to see you’ that floated above his head. a faint ‘click’ sounded as you closed your phone, the thumping in your chest much louder. once again, riki had set your heart ablaze.

 -♡-

the sun hung high and proud in the sky, above the crowd gathered for the true star below. by the entrance, you nearly spun around and went home. riki was there. no flairs or fanfare, a single guard beside him and an easy smile on his face, so confident in his presence. you wished that you could disappear.

“think he'll remember us?”

her voice startled you and you prayed that it wasn't obvious.

“you didn't tell me you were going,” she complained, “we could have matched!”

“in what, our aprons?”

your usual bite was lacking, words almost quivering as they left you. you couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't take yours off of riki.

“whatever,” she snickered, “you've obviously been distracted.”

your body followed as she walked towards the entrance gate, mind loud and fuzzy like listening to a song with cheap headphones. riki was close enough to touch, but only in theory. you felt tiny beneath his gaze that you couldn't return. she was let in, and you now stood directly in front of him, waiting. the worst possibility dawned on you: what if he didn't recognise you? of course, you would have hated to look like your teenage self, but it would be awfully awkward if you looked too different and were turned away.

how embarrassing. you came all this way to get denied by riki himself. stressing over clothes and hair, but you were still nothing to him. there were murmurs behind you. everybody had to be staring at you in the outfit that you now felt too self-conscious in, seeming like a deluded fan trying to sneak in. it might as well have been physical, his gaze on you that made you feel like a target, and your heart hammered away as if you were a bunny with nowhere to hide. your throat tightened, eyes stinging with tears you refused to shed, then his palm fell on your back and guided you forward.

“enjoy the show,” he uttered along with your name, making you freeze in place. riki remembered you. feet dragging as you joined the growing crowd, you weren't sure whether you could feel good about that.

 -♡-

sticky sweat clung to your soft skin. with squinting eyes, you watched riki perform. the mass of bodies buzzed around you, knocking you about, loud cheers blaring into your ears, but there wasn't a thing they could do to take your attention from him.

just one man, but he filled the stage completely, travelling from one end to the other in fluid jumps and spins that reminded you of his history with dance. he was electric. no bashful curling of the lips anymore, now the crowd's screams made his confident grin broaden, and riki made his approval clear by shouting it into the microphone. his skin gleamed from sweat and he kept ruffling his hair as if it could release any heat, open mouth panting between bars. the crowd filled every gap in his singing, screaming the lyrics without missing a beat, and it made your heart so full. that was your riki on stage, your star, and just look at how loved he'd become. if you had told him back then that he would reach this point, you weren't sure if he would have believed you, but you never had a single doubt. this was what he was made for.

he finished performing his final song, gulping down big sips of water from a tiny bottle before giving a closing speech. he thanked his audience and then, with eyes you swore were on you, he thanked the town. the entire crowd was then addressed as he announced an upcoming album,  words jumbled in your mind, then the stage was left empty, but you couldn't leave this moment. you stayed as phones were lowered, you stayed as people began to disperse, you stayed and saw riki whispering to a guard before pointing in your direction. the suited man approached your figure that was frozen in limbo,  and gestured for you to follow him. you took each step, convinced that you were dreaming, until your path was obstructed and two shadows met on the floor beneath you.

“did you enjoy the show?”

his voice was deeper than you could recall, you heard each low vibration of it clearly now, without the distraction of a crowd. riki's head was lowered to see you properly and you felt exposed under his gaze. it was different from before, less analytical, but just as intense. he had always had a way of doing that to you.

“it was amazing, riki,” you praised, trying to  keep your stuttering to a minimum, “you were awesome.”

“oh yeah?”

he loved it, how infatuated you were, he couldn't keep from grinning. you were even prettier than you used to be, had grown into your skin, but had yet to outgrow him. just too adorable. 

“there's something really awesome in my trailer, come with me,” he invited, taking your hand before you could think to respond. his palm was warm like a hug.

you stumbled as you followed his lead, he pushed his trailer door open with his free hand and shut it the moment you were inside, falling onto the couch. you idled by the door and observed your surroundings. a half-empty, bright red cup stood out amongst the numerous hues of gold and orange found in the posters plastered on every surface. his old guitar on the floor, beside the case of his new one, a memory he had managed to bring into the future.

it was hard to believe you were in a space that belonged to riki, that he would show you part of his world, and you chose to think that he would have done the same if sober.

“you just gonna stand there, pretty?”

your eyes snapped onto him, away from the walls, and– aside from that cup– riki's face was the reddest thing around. at first, while talking outside, you had naively assumed that it was due to the heat.

“you're seriously drunk?”

he scoffed like you were hitting on him, raising his eyebrows. 

“you saw how big the crowd was, i needed the courage,” he shrugged, “come here.”

his command was undeniable and it distracted you from questioning further. the couch creaked as you sat directly beside him, not much space to do otherwise. 

it was awkward as you waited for him to break the silence, like a first date. you looked down at your fingers and tried not to feel his unrelenting gaze on you.

“you look good,” riki muttered, his hand landing on your thigh. by using all the strength you had, you did not flinch.

“thank you,” was quiet as you said it.

his nose scrunched up and he pat your leg.

“don't get shy on me, pretty, what’s up?”

golden strands of hair hung over his honey skin, his pretty pinkish lips had faint lines running through them. riki seemed to glow in the setting sun, and you were scared your fingers would phase through him if you tried to touch. he seemed just like a fantasy.

“i don't know,” you admitted, smile breaking out despite yourself, “this just feels kinda unreal. i had such a huge crush on you back in high school and now you're just… here.”

the hand which had been rubbing your thigh paused right below your hip.

“hm?”

you dared to lift your gaze and were almost swallowed in his dark eyes. he had his head tilted, just the slightest bit, a chestnut eyebrow sticking up and his lips pressed together.

“don't act confused,” you laughed, attempting to shake off your nerves, “i was so obvious! i watched all your performances behind the school like an obsessed dork.”

you thought of how you would have made him daily lunches if you weren't scared of poisoning him, thought of all the evenings you had spent writing him love notes only to chicken out and throw them away, but you chose to keep those truths to yourself.

you felt your ears warming, but there was no flush to your skin that could rival riki's, so you simply ignored it.

“you're not the only one,” riki pointed out, licking his gorgeous lips. the wet sheen made it hard to take your eyes off of them.

“why didn't you tell me?”

you wondered how drunk he must have been to ask such a stupid question, with a little pout like he was hurt, like it would have meant anything if you had told him back then.

“why would i? look at you, look at me. there was no way!”

for someone who had no alcohol in their system, you were being awfully honest, but it felt kind of good to get it out of your padlocked heart and let your reality be out in the open. a weight off your shoulders, but riki didn't seem too convinced. his fingers hooked under your chin and he moved your face around, tilting it and turning it.

“i'm looking,” he murmured, voice low in his throat, and your breath hitched from the combination of his deep gaze and voice.

“tell me now, pretty, say it to my face.”

against your will, a tiny whine escaped you. it was hard to hear anything over the ringing of your ears and your pounding heart. he was so damn close, and you didn't want to keep him waiting, didn't want him getting bored.

“i, um… i had a crush on you,” you confessed, this time with your eyes on his, “for years. and i was so nervous whenever i saw you, even if we weren't talking, because i just thought you were so cool and pre–”

it took some time for your mind to register that his lips had captured yours. the plump lips of riki that you had only fantasised of, defiling whatever you could pretend was him. it felt like a first kiss, without the teeth or taste of mint gum, it felt like a dream.

“shit,” he sighed into the kiss, lifting your leg to be over his lap. you shifted into a more comfortable position on top of him, moving as if under his spell, likely because you were.

a gasp widened your mouth as you felt something pressing against you, riki took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. it tasted faintly of whatever he'd been drinking, sweet. your hand sunk into his hair, and his snuck beneath the fabric of your top.

“ki,” you whined as your lips separated, riki pulling at your bottom one with his teeth before his mouth latched onto your neck. his thick, wet tongue on your sensitive skin had you squirming in his lap, unintentionally grinding over his dick.

“oh shit, just like that,” he sighed and the cool air tickled the patch of your neck below his mouth, he cupped your ass as his teeth dug into your skin, sending you mixed signals as to whether he was being rough or gentle.

“please…”

the hand on your stomach lowered, his fingers flicked at the bow of your panties then ventured inside them.

“so damn wet,” he praised, dragging a finger through your folds, “all for me.”

he peppered kisses from your neck to your collarbone, spreading heat across the expanse of your chest. it was bliss. to be in his hold, for him to be in your grasp, like a shooting star held between your twitching fingers. his didn't do much, teasing your nerves and sinking into your wetness. he was having fun playing with you. 

“this how much you love me?”

you nodded and his dick jumped beneath you, your pussy clenching from his rough tone.

riki gritted his teeth, an obvious effort to suppress his own desire as he favoured yours. his merciful middle finger pushed inside your tight hole, the cold sting from his silver ring sending a jolt through your body. curving into him, a squeak escaped you.

“shh,” riki lulled, his mouth again falling onto yours. he snuck another finger inside and swallowed up the moan you gave him, chuckling against your lips. your eyes fluttered, hips rolled in pursuit of more of his touch that was sending explosions through you.

“she's so tight,” he grunted, “how's my dick gonna fit, hm?”

his fingers went from curling to opening and closing in a ‘v’ shape.

“i gotta stretch her out, yeah?”

breaking the kiss, your head fell back. it felt good, so, so good. him pumping into you quickly and powerfully, each movement of his fingers drew yet another moan from your kiss-swollen lips. in an attempt to relieve the buzzing pressure of your clit, you pressed your thumb into it, your body desperate for the sweet release that you felt coming.

“ah, fuck,” you tried not to scream from the pleasure, biting hard into your lip. riki fucking purred at the view. 

“that's it, play with that pussy for me.”

his hips rose against you in a quick, involuntary thrust, hard dick pressing your ass.

“so damn sexy,” he cursed under his breath, fingers picking up speed, “cum for me. want you all over me, drown my fucking fingers, baby.”

you jerked forward as your vision went blank, yelping as you coated him in your release, juices spraying from your pussy.

“fuck yeah, squirt all over me,” he groaned, shutting his eyes as if he were savouring it. to be fair; you were, too. you had never had such a visceral reaction before. panting, you watched his veiny hand retreat from the wet pool between your thighs, sweat rolling down your heaving chest. before you could have stopped him, riki brought his hand to the neckline of your shirt, pulled it down, and then dragged his fat tongue along the wet trail of sweat, making sure to look directly into your widening eyes as he did so. he felt your racing heart beneath his pink muscle.

“riki,” you stuttered, the sight shaking up your clouded mind, “what the fuck!”

he simply shrugged and gave you a quick kiss, your lips chasing after his as he pulled back. he loved it, how badly you needed him.

“you taste so sweet.”

you gasped as riki slid you off his lap, large hands on your waist as he bent your body to his will.

his position was awkward, there wasn't enough space on the tiny couch of his trailer, he pushed your back into a deeper arch and hoped it rose your ass high enough. his knee sunk in beside you, tried to take a few inches off of his height, and he didn't seem to mind the discomfort. more accurately, he cared more about having your body before him. you held your breath while waiting, turning your head to better see him. his still wet fingers fumbled with your bottoms, dragging them down to your thighs, but they were too tight to slide down fully. you were nude on display, posed like a model.

“pretty,” he observed, his hand rubbing your ass, no sense of urgency.

“riki, please,” you urged for him to hurry, the empty ache of your pussy unbearable.

“don't worry, i got you.”

as he pulled down his jeans, you caught a glimpse of the tattoo by his v-line: a gaudy red kiss. it almost distracted you, so nice on his skin, but the bulge in his boxers was even more attention-grabbing. he must have been aching, simply suffering as he was preparing you for this. his dick, now free, pressed against the inside of your thigh, smearing precum on your skin. it held weight, hard and heavy. with flared nostrils and pinched brows, he dragged the tip through your wet folds, again and again, collecting your arousal as it dripped down like syrup.

“you want it inside?”

your neck tensed as you nodded, fast enough to have made your head vibrate. 

“yes, yes, yes,” you pleaded, and he obliged, slowly pushing into you.

“fuck,” riki drawled, feeling every ridge of your pussy around him, and you cried out, feeling so full. your head fell onto the couch pillows, mouth agape as he began to move, his fat dick stretching you out with every thrust, your whole body shaking. legs already failing, you released a gasped moan .

“keep your fucking hips up.”

his palm delivered a smack to your ass before he corrected your arch, your knees sore and buckling as the course material of the couch dug into them like a dry patch of grass. with you like this, he could slam even deeper into you, have you drooling onto the pillows as your eyes rolled back.

“that's it,” he groaned, daring to bring his fingers between your legs to pinch your clit, and you screamed, tight pussy clenching around him.

you were already out of it, limp and drunk on pleasure, when a buzzing you thought was simply your imagination had become a ringing– a ringtone that sounded from your phone as it was lodged into your pocket. riki brought it out, thrusts slowing yet not stopping. it was terrible timing for a phone call. in fact, you could not think of one person who would even call you, ever.

“who's jake?”

your heart dropped. fuck. fuck. you forgot about him, the one person. your head snapped up from between the couch pillows.

“no one!”

“you sure? you seem pretty tense,” riki pointed out, and to your horror, his thumb swiped up. a crackly voice immediately came from the other end.

“hello? baby, you okay? the concert ended a while ago, right? heeseung told me. if you can't catch a ride, i'll come pick you up.”

silence. you didn't make a single sound, not even to breathe, until riki, fucking riki, thrust up right where you needed it. right where would send your eyes rolling and set you on fire. you couldn't hold back, you mewled and kept doing so as riki sent shocks through you with every move, shocks of pleasure and panic.

“what was that? what's that sound?”

jake's frantic voice should have turned you off, should have made you feel so guilty, but it didn't. you felt thrilled. how did he look right now? how confused must he have been? you imagined those brown eyes, wide as saucers, and how his mouth would have fallen open. 

“ah, riki,” you moaned, nice and loud, wondering if jake could hear how your pussy squelched around another man's dick. this is how he should have been fucking you if he wanted to keep you. this is what you had truly wanted the entire time you had been dating him, and it felt unreal to have your vainest prayer answered.

“are you fucking kidding me? there's no way,” he shouted through the phone speakers, “what the fuck is wrong with–” a dull beep sounded as riki cut the call, but you caught the gist of jake's tantrum. 

 you grinned, practically a smug little sneer, but riki didn't return it. his lips were set in a straight line and he caught you off guard with a brutal thrust. you faltered beneath him.

“no one, huh?”

his mean gaze had your toes curling, heart rate picking up as if he was hunting you, as if you were utterly at his mercy.

“i thought you had a crush on me,” he griped, slowly pulling out, “why should i fuck you, if you don't even like me?”

“i do, i do, please,” you begged, frantic as you felt him leaving, inch by inch. 

“and i thought you were all mine,” he frowned, his hand tossing your phone aside. it fell face-down onto the floor, but your last concern was the screen getting cracked.

“i am, riki, all yours,” you rambled, feeling way too empty, “yours, only want you, please!”

unable to mask his amusement, riki raised an eyebrow as he bit his lip.

“yeah, baby? then take me.”

each inch you were missing was replaced in full, in one fluid motion, and your fuzzy eyes flew open. his name came from your lips in a broken gasp, from deep, deep inside.

it was as if you'd been drenched in water after a life of wandering through the desert. your truest craving, the one desire that you could never shake off, finally satiated. it brought tears to your eyes to feel riki's dick dragging deliciously in and out of you. jake was an echo in the very back of your mind. this, riki, is what you had been aching for. you had to savour each moment, force your eyes open and watch the furrow of his brows as you squeezed around him.

a louder echo reminded you of when you'd first played with yourself. awake in the middle of the night, the only sounds being that of your ac running and whatever insects were outside. you awoke with a dampness on your skin, having dreamed of your crush like usual. it was different that time. you had done more than hug and kiss, he had touched you ways that you'd only seen in the movies, and your body longed to feel it outside of a mere dream. so, with drool still hanging from your lips and the posters on your wall to witness, you stuck your finger inside yourself for the first time. it was heaven, and yet it was nothing compared to how you felt now.

 “riki, ‘m close,” you warned, voice muffled from your cheek pressed against the pillow. your body was weak, barely mobile, able only to receive what he gave you. he, who so kindly gave you more. his hands travelled up your spine, came around to caress your titties with squeezes and pinches.

“do it, pretty, cum on this dick. you deserve it.”

the knot snapped at his words, your voice scratchy as you moaned, body going slack. he didn't stop moving, and all you could do was keep moaning as you took it, the extra stimulation frying your brain. his fingers held your chin, turned you to face him. you glowed from the sweat, hair sticking to your face in various places, and you lacked the strength to even close your mouth. riki couldn't be more turned on.

“so fucking sexy. wanna see this pretty face when i nut,” he muttered, hips losing speed. a slow, deep roll pushed his dick far inside, the perfect place for him to shoot his seed into with a rough groan, warmth blooming in your pussy and you didn't even have the time to process it. riki paused, his breaths heavy, then pulled out.

 “riki?”

you watched with surprise as he zipped up his jeans, not sparing a single second.

“uh, i just remembered something,” he mumbled, “you need to go.”

“what do you mean?”

you arms shook under the pressure of your body as you tried to sit up.

“it's late, and i'm still touring, so…”

hand around the door handle, he opened it wide and you scrambled to pull up your pants before someone saw you like this. 

“so what?”

riki couldn't give you a response, only a look that said he wasn't asking. with trembling lips, you picked up your cracked phone from the ground and left his trailer.

 -♡-

 a cold wind passed by your face as you stepped onto the street. it was funny, you thought, how drastically things could change. only a few hours ago, you had been sweating, melting like a popsicle on hot pavement, and now the frost bit at you. your hairs stood up, tried to trap warm air like how you had been trapped in a fantasy. finally, the dream had been shattered. you had just ruined your relationship with jake, and what did you get in return? you got asked to leave. devoid of warmth, your punishment felt more severe.

the truth of riki's motives scared you, the truth of him having used you. the chance that he could have felt nothing whilst you felt everything, your trembling heart beneath his fleeting kisses on your skin. it was beginning to sink in. one obvious, vital fact: you were stupid. to think that getting fucked meant he could ever love you, as if that wasn't every artist's song and dance. get a desperate fan backstage and slut her out. somewhere deep inside, though, you couldn't be mad at him. maybe this was the wake-up call you had been needing for years. he had given you what you needed.

you scoffed at the pavement below you, and in your attempt to see the night sky, you were faced with something else. eyes met yours, the former pair behind a glass window. the car you saw was familiar. red outside, some dust despite how frequently he cleaned it. at least he managed to scrub the bird shit off. inside, you knew that it smelled like cinnamon. he had been using the same car air freshener since you made a passing remark about liking the smell, even after they stopped selling it at the convenience store by his place. he simply made the thirty-five minute drive to the next one over and bought them in bulk. he said he liked the scenery on the way there, anyways. the scenery of traffic congestion and barren landscapes. it was the most stupid lie, but of course it was, he was always a bad liar. even if those toffee eyes weren't staring right at you, pink and puffy, you would always have recognised that vehicle. after all, you had spent so much time in jake's car.

steps picking up speed, you walked up to it, leaning in by the driver's window.

“jake, what are you doing here?”

the question sounded worse than you expected, frail and riddled with shame.

“i knew it,” he muttered, slowly, defeated. this was one of the only times that you had seen jake without his large smile, and it was unnerving. jake never really cried. he smiled that time when he had dropped your entire lunch order on the restaurant floor, a little too excited as he was walking back to the table. you had cleaned up the mess together, left and decided to share a family-sized bag of chips instead, before you got blacklisted from every restaurant in the area. jake didn't have an ounce of disappointment on his face. if anything, he was even happier because your fingers brushed each time you'd both grab a chip, and the label on the bag proved you would be a family someday. the latter claim was made with a bashful, giddy smile. you returned it, dusting the seasoning powders from his hand and holding it. looking back, you recalled that jake didn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. now, however, he couldn't look more miserable if he tried.

 “i knew you couldn't get home. i had to pick you up.”

“how long have you been here, jake? you don't look…”

swallowing the word ‘okay’, you didn't finish the question. it was your fault he was like this, wasn't it?

“please get in the car,” he croaked, his voice cracking at the end. you obeyed, walked to your side and ignored how jake seemed to shift in his seat, fighting his instinct to open the door for you. the sound of the car door shutting was loud, the quiet of the car itself was loud, and you wished it could drown out jake's sniffles. against better judgement, you looked at him, looked at his wet, red nose and the trails of water running down his cheek.

“how could you?”

it wasn’t possible to answer. what could you have said? that you did it because a higher calling instructed you to, or because jake had just been a placeholder all along? though the latter was true, both explanations were equally as deranged. you settled for the simplest response. 

“i'm sorry.”

you watched as more tears rolled from his eyes. his lashes looked long and pretty, and his skin was flushed a delicate pink shade. your poor boy.

“i'm driving you home, okay? then this is over. i never wanna see you again, because i know i'll fucking take you back– was already gonna,” he revealed, palms on his face as he wiped his eyes, “but sunghoon wouldn't let me. he–” jake hiccuped between sobs. “– he said that he'd tell everyone what you did. i can't let him do– do that to you– i shouldn't have even told him.”

“oh my gosh, jaeyun!”

you put your head in your hands, and cried beside him, this innocent idiot. the loud sobs of you both would likely be heard by anyone passing by.

“no, baby, don't cry,” he sniveled, “don't cry, don't cry, it's gonna be okay. we're gonna be okay.”

he took your hand from your face, peppering kisses all over it, you felt each warm teardrop of his as they poured onto your skin. you didn't pull back, didn't fight it. you let him, because you knew this was the last time that you would ever be this close to each other.

 -♡-

in the quiet of his trailer, riki's mind was screaming. he kicked you out as if it could magically take away how he was feeling. he tried to pinpoint the cause, to single out the moment when his mind shifted. was it when you confessed to him? it made him hard, sure, but that couldn't have been it. riki remembered the panicked look on your face as your phone rang, remembered the pang it sent through his chest to realise you belonged to someone else. it was unnatural and it was natural for him to feel weird about it. hadn't you been his biggest fan, admiring him with stars in your eyes? 

there it was. after all the time you had spent pining for him, it left a sour taste in his mouth to think of you with anyone else. glancing at the bottle on the countertop, he considered washing it away with a drink, but his liver was fucked enough and his heart would stay heavy. so like any artist would, he decided to channel his emotions into lyrics. he brought his phone out, opened the notes app, then turned it off. how he felt couldn't be typed, it had to be written. the words had to be pressed onto paper and have their ink sink into it, but all he had was a blue pen and a flyer that had fallen from the wall.  nevertheless, he flipped it over, pen secured in his left hand, and began to write.

  -♡-

 it had been a week since you screwed up your whole life. you went to work like everything was normal, just added it to the list of things you didn't want to think about, didn't say a word to anyone about anything. no amount of teasing remarks could break you down further, you let them slide.

you collapsed onto your bed each afternoon and felt nothing. you couldn't bring yourself to cry over jake, you were mostly sad over losing your backup plan, your distraction. your phone had been on silent since the day of the concert, a lesson you had to learn the hard way, and you turned it on knowing you didn't have to worry about messages from jake for the first time in months. you weren't sure what updates you were expecting to receive, but certainly not a notification that read ‘@_chromeki followed you back!’ at the sight of it, you pushed your head into the pillow and groaned.

it was a temptation you fell for, opening the app straight away and seeing a message request from him, asking to link up. you pulled a face as you replied, telling him there was ‘no way in hell’ and that he was the reason you got dumped. to your horror, grey text reading ‘seen’ appeared below your slew of messages, and you watched the dots by his profile picture as he typed a response: ‘good.’

baffled, you stared at the screen as another text appeared. he asked for the chance to make it up to you, saying that you knew where to find him. it was unapologetic, vague, and somehow magnetic. before you knew it, you had slipped on your shoes and left the building. 

 -♡-

you spotted riki on the sidewalk, black jeans and a white hoodie. on the way over, you had expected to walk the way to his trailer, so it was a pleasant surprise.

“there she is,” he grinned, opening his arms with the smug look you were getting used to. it was kind of a ridiculous notion, the one that you were getting used to a person you had known for years, but it was true in a way. you had known riki like how you knew a neighbour, in your world, but not in your life; almost parallel how you would see each other without ever interacting. years spent stealing glances at him, but you had only just touched him last week, and riki likely hadn't even thought twice of you until then. now he stood before you, waiting for a hug. it took everything in you not to give in.

 “fuck you,” you spat, rejecting the hug.

“ouch. you already did, remember?”

he pulled you into his arms, his chest against your back, his breaths tickling your ear, too close.

“or do i have to ask your boyfriend to remind you? what was his name, jack?”

“seriously?” scowling, you pushed him away from you and began to walk. you knew this was stupid, that you shouldn't have come, but you had slept off the wake-up call and forgotten its harsh ringing.

“did you even love him?”

his question made you pause in your tracks, too direct not to, and riki's long legs allowing him to catch up to you in a couple of steps.

“it's not about that,” you muttered, avoiding an answer as blunt as the question, “he didn't do anything wrong.”

“didn't do anything right either, if you came to me,” riki shrugged, no remorse whatsoever, “wanna go for a walk?”

you blinked and he had changed the subject, you believed that he didn't want to upset you any further. the outside air was cool and crisp, the sun hid behind thick, white clouds, likely embarrassed after being upstaged by the man beside you so many times. it was nice outside, that was the only reason you nodded your head with the tiniest smile.

 -♡-

 “you know…”

the sky was that pretty pinkish colour that only showed up on summer evenings. you had been walking for a while, making conversation on the scenery as you passed it by and on trees that looked like people you'd went to school with. the most recent one had branches that resembled your english teacher's arms.

“i'm surprised you even got a boyfriend,” he blurted, “in high school, you could barely ask the lunch ladies for more rice. you never spoke to anyone.”

“don't remind me,” you whined, neck warming up, “how do you even remember me?”

there was a flicker in his eyes, one you weren't sure whether you'd imagined.

“i remember all my day ones,” he dismissed and you grimaced.

“it would be better if you didn't, at least in my case.”

you smiled as you said it, but riki didn't laugh.

“why not? you were cute.”

the compliment hung in the air, halting your train of thought, your steps slowed. something shifted.

“isn't it past your curfew or something,” riki asked, his demeanour still cool, but you took note of his pink ears.

“i don't have a curfew, riki.”

“really? i wouldn't know. i’m free from student life,” he bragged, laughing at the glare you gave him, “i haven't opened an overpriced textbook in forever.”

“can't hear you, don't care.”

you placed your hands over your ears, lowering them only after you heard his muffled apologies and saw his pleading eyes. he could be so cute. 

“let me take you home,” he offered once he was sure you could hear him, “it's getting late.”

“if you want,” you shrugged, tried not to let it show how you would have loved for him to do so.

riki scoffed at your attempted nonchalance, suppressing the urge to mimic it. he had teased you enough for one day. 

“of course, lead the way.”

your hand had ended up in his, so swift that you couldn't catch him in the act, and riki followed each step you took towards the darkening sky.

 -♡-

items tumbled about in your purse as you fished for your keys. riki leaned against the wall, by the doorframe, an amused look on his face.

“you want me to kick it down?”

an eye roll was the kindest response you could give him, shiny silver jingling between your fingers as you pushed it into the keyhole and opened the door.  you stepped inside, riki paused outside. the soles of your feet were sore from all the walking, and somewhere along the way, the pristine white of riki's hoodie had been transgressed upon. he didn't ask to come in, not with words, but with the more reserved energy he was giving off and his unusual abstinence from teasing you further. your eyes met for long, dense seconds and neither of you said a thing, but you reminded yourself of what happened last time. the cold night and how riki expelled you  was the most unpleasant memory, one you hadn't the slightest intention of reliving.

“well, goodnight, riki,” you smiled with the hope that it didn't come off as too forced.

“yeah, goodnight.”

he lingered even after the farewell, never once looking away from you, his content expression dropping as you slowly shut the door.

 -♡-

 the streets were empty and riki kicked each pebble before his feet as he returned to his trailer, cursing at the situation he himself had orchestrated. as soon as he entered the cramped vehicle, he took hold of his pen and began to write. why did he say that? your genuine shock from him calling you– the old you– cute made him regret it. riki was beginning to realise that, just as you hung on to his every word, your reactions had started to matter to him as well.

 the furrow of your brows as you pushed his hug away, how you avoided looking at him when you were nervous, or quickly you got flustered once the topic of your high-school self came up. without paying any mind to it, riki had begun to store all these tiny things in the catalogue of his heart, and they replayed constantly in his mind. it was torture.

 for all the thinking and reminiscing that he doing, he had only managed to write the first verse of whatever this song was. every lyric embedded on the paper was like an open wound, raw and too vulnerable. it would be so much easier to write about anything else. the clothes, the crowds, the sex, anything but you. it wasn't as if he'd never written about relationships before, this was just the first time that it mattered. he had more to talk about than having you in his lap. the words held weight and he hated it, he wasn't drunk enough to be this honest. riki still hadn’t thought of a name for the song, and he figured he’d leave it untitled forevermore.

 -♡-

 today was yet another day where you'd be seeing him. it was late when you closed up, there wouldn't be time for an evening shower, and you wondered which perfume would best mask the scent of coffee and bleach that clung to your skin. since your afternoon walks with him had grown in frequency, since you started losing sleep texting him, since he called you before every show for ‘good luck’, you had started to get used to riki's presence in your life. a change that was happening slowly and strangely.

 the door of his trailer gave way under your hand, and riki was leaned against the counter waiting for you.

“hi,” he greeted, leading you to the couch, “how was your shift?”

the natural rhythm of the conversation, how quickly you fell into it, was comical for a pair who were neither married nor dating. it was unclear what you were.

 “wow,” you laughed, “it was great, honey, is dinner ready yet?”

riki shoved against your side, giving you a glare that he couldn't maintain, and soon you were both laughing.

 you moaned about customers who acted like you could read minds, and riki showed you the deranged fans in his inbox. eventually, your head was lying on his shoulder, you played with his hand and traced over the ace of spades on his wrist, listening to his playlist as it filled the space.

“what's playing now?”

your eyes shut and opened slowly, his skin was soft like a pillow.

“soft spot, it's by keshi,” he answered, “i really love his music.”

your quiet hum of acknowledgement made riki continue, “don't fall asleep on me, pretty.”

“i'm not,” you protested, hugging his waist as you eased further against him, “just comfortable.”

“mhm, if you say so.”

the next song started playing, and you spoke up.

“it makes sense that you like him. i mean, i hear the influence.”

“what does that mean?”

a glance revealed riki's face, squinted eyes and a raised eyebrow. he was using his sunglasses as a hairband, and you knew that you would never have seen his eyes if not for the curtains in the trailer, this vampire boy who hated bright lights. you figured the animosity between him and the sun was mutual.

“i dunno, you have similar vibes sometimes. a tour with the two of you would be crazy good.”

“in my dreams,” he smiled, “i just relate to him with some things.”

“what does that mean,” you asked, copying riki's earlier demeanour with a grin of mischief. he gave you a pinch.

“it means what i said. it's not like my life is perfect all the time,” he shrugged and it made your head do a tiny bounce on his shoulder, “even if my dick game is.”

“shut up,” you groaned, leaning away from him and pretending to gag.

“you can stop pretending to suck me off, i'm right here if you wanna.”

“riki,” you exclaimed, throwing your hands over your face, “please shut up!”

“you're so cute,” he giggled, rubbing your thigh, “i was just joking, pretty.”

a cold sensation between your legs stopped you from responding, riki's fingers travelling up beneath your skirt, the rings he refused to ever remove tickling your goosebumps.

“you want me to apologise?”

the pads of his fingers ran over the front of your panties, its fabric dampened beneath them, but he didn't venture further.

“i need words, baby, come on.”

“riki–”

you both jumped at the knocking on the door.

“ni-ki,” a voice called from behind it, “your food is here.”

riki retreated, went to answer the door as you straightened out your skirt. your heart was hammering as he sat beside you and opened the box of pizza on his lap.

“um,” you tried to read his face, but it lacked any discernable emotion.

“that was awkward,” you said because what else could you do, ask if he would keep fingering you?

he hummed, taking a slice between his teeth.

“is that why your life isn't perfect? how many times does that happen,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. he shrugged and kept chewing.

“okay, why are you acting like this? you were actually being a human some minutes ago.”

riki winced at that, tossing away his pizza and standing up. you couldn't stand to have him looking down on you like that. 

“i'm not acting like anything, stop being annoying.”

“the fuck? you just went cold on me all of a sudden, that's what's annoying! we were actually having a discussion,” you stressed, “for once you told me something about yourself.”

“that was a mistake, okay?”riki ran his hand through his hair, a frown on his lips.

“is it bad if i only wanna show you the best of me?”

to that, you failed to respond, eyes fixed on his somber face. he had baffled you.

“you're fine already, what are you talking about?”

“i don't want your pity,” he replied, swift and explosive like a car crash.

“riki, what's wrong? are you okay?”

you made the mistake, the stupid mistake, of reaching out to him. that was his final straw.

“i told you, i don't fucking need your pity,” he snapped, storming to the door and yanking it open, “get out.”

there wasn't a part of you willing to risk escalating the situation and, to be frank, he was kind of scaring you. heart thumping, eyes watering, you dashed out of his trailer, flinching as he slammed the door behind you.

 -♡-

riki fell against the door as it wobbled into place, sinking onto the floor and holding his head. what the fuck was wrong with him? it was never meant to have been like this. for him to have been at ease around you, for his eyes to brighten when they caught sight of you, for you to have made him feel seen as a person. his heart felt physically lighter when he talked to you, let out what he swore to keep bottled up, and riki couldn't let that keep happening.

his whole life, he had modelled his whole life around freedom. around not having anything tying him down anymore. no rules, no responsibilities, no relationships. that was the appeal of the rockstar life, wasn't it? for him to be a superstar, buy whatever he wanted without a care, fuck whichever girl he wanted without it mattering. he was meant to be untouchable, but he made the mistake of letting you into his life, someone who knew him before the fame. when being around you, riki was as unguarded as the angsty teenager singing for a handful of his peers, he was right there for you to put your hands on. the very worst part was that he knew that, by now, he would willingly lean into the warmth of your skin.

what was he meant to do? his tour was wrapping up soon, he could end it. he could block you on everything and disappear without a trace. for some reason, the idea made his heart clench. probably because he hadn't yet finished his song. yes, that was it, riki couldn't leave his song unfinished, hence why he couldn't leave you. it made perfect sense. 

 -♡-

barely an hour since he'd opened his eyes, riki was making his way to your place. everything about him was toned down, just a plain black outfit, his vital sunglasses, and a beanie to hide his bedhead. Some rings  adorned his fingers, but only so he'd have something to fidget with to ease his nerves. your apartment complex came into view, and he began to do exactly that, his half-asleep mind quickly waking. aside from when he first took you backstage, this was the stupidest thing he had ever done. it wasn't like you would even be there, dead in the morning of some weekday. riki didn't even know what day it was, only that this was the earliest he'd awoken in years. he could hardly fall asleep last night to begin with. now he was outside of what he hoped was your door, praying that he recalled the numbers correctly, and you were probably at some lecture. his left hand, the one free from any decoration, lifted his sunglasses then rose to your door and knocked on it. 

his heart had never raced quicker than in the time where he waited for you to answer, eyes widening as the door pulled back to reveal you.

you in your pyjamas, bare feet on your wooden floor, rubbing your eyes.

“riki?”

your voice was tangled with sleep, cute and soft in its confusion, but riki couldn't hug you just yet.

“i'm sorry,” he said before anything else, stepping closer to you. you stayed in place, and riki wondered if you thought that you were dreaming.

“okay,” you finally responded, dazed face unchanged.

“no, i mean i'm for real sorry,” he pleaded and hated how pathetic it was.

“it's whatever,” you mumbled, the sleep beginning to clear from your tone, “was just really shitty of you to kick me out twice, and when i was most vulnerable.”

the truth of your words stung, but it was your expression that broke him. that tiny frown your lips were tugging down into, your eyes that looked down at the floor as if seeing him would bring you to tears. he wanted to kiss it all away, but he knew he'd just get carried away and fuck everything up again.

“shit, i'm so sorry,” he repeated, trying to rationalise his actions and convince himself that you could forgive him. seeing that defeated look you carried, riki knew that he had been the worst, but you had to give him the chance to treat you better. 

“i'll never do that again, i promise you.”

his eyes held all the sincerity a man could have and you would have seen that, if only you could have lifted your eyes to look into them.

“yeah, sure.”

“no, please, i'm so for real. look at me, baby, please.”

there was the slightest crack in his voice as he begged for your forgiveness, and it almost made you concede, almost made you crumble.

“riki, i think you should leave now,” you mumbled, vision blurring from the tears that formed, “please.”

riki's fingers stretched towards you, then fell by his side. his eyes, usually so sharp, were big and round. he thought he could be sick. this time, it was your turn to shut the door on him.

 -♡-

 as his tour was coming to an end, riki had just been going through the motions. sleeping until it was time to visit the next stop, performing like he still had the heart to do so, rolling back into town right after. the schedule was demanding, unnecessarily so, but riki had insisted on spending as much time as possible in his hometown when planning for the tour. when he could see you, he had been so glad with the decision. it was worth it, the constant car-sickness and the long drives that caused them, because you would be waiting for him with a giddy smile.

 riki downed another cup, thinking of how he could never see you again because of his own stupidity. your shaky voice and blank face that day in your apartment, he hadn't stopped remembering. if he could do that to you, then how was he meant to keep seeing you in good faith? he had been ruining you.

 the once blank side of a poster, now vandalised by scribbles of lyrics, taunted him. each line he had jotted down, feverish and drunk, like it was a form of therapy. how you made him feel alive, but so mortal, how he had no idea how to act around you and just wanted you to see him as the cool guy from before. if only he could have been this honest with you. tired of being ridiculed, riki grabbed the paper and crumpled it up, eyes searching for the bin. his hand, curled around the spiky paper ball, raised and then lowered, dropping it back onto the table. he couldn't do it. he couldn't commit to anything at all. 

 -♡-

by now, you had grown used to ignoring questions. the ones that came once everyone had noticed an overly excited brunet no longer hanging onto your arm all day, the ones that came when your academic performance started to drop, and, of course, the ones that came when you began to look like a zombie. you learned that if you left people without an answer, they would go searching for one on their own, so you let them. the conclusion that most reached was simply that your breakup with jake had hit you pretty hard, nevermind the fact that your smile only disappeared weeks after that, it was a delayed response.

 if only they knew how quick it really was. you hadn't smiled since that morning when you had shut the door in riki's face. you had fallen back onto your bed and remained wide awake, the senselessness of your every action plaguing your mind. did you hate yourself that much? were you that obsessed with ruining your own life, that you could throw away every important relationship you had? if you were never going to see riki's face again, then why did you have to ruin jake?

you had left yourself all alone. just you and all the friendly faces you couldn't return, the assignments you couldn't hand in, the orders you couldn't remember. it was like you were living on auto-pilot with all the wrong controls, doing everything as usual, but nothing was done right. you found it pathetic to be this distraught over a one-night stand and some evenings spent walking, but he had been right there. your dream boy that you threw it all away for, only to end up tossing him aside as well. maybe you were just addicted to the thrill, maybe you didn't know what you wanted, and no man could fix that, but it would feel so nice to be held again. you could admit that you missed him.

each night, you would go on riki's page and wince at how he was posting as if nothing happened, but what was he supposed to do? his profile picture had the little purple-orange ring around it, the one that meant it was time to check his story from an alternate account. expecting another tour photo with a caption expressing gratitude or a plethora of fire emojis, you squinted at what you actually saw. in the frame was an extremely wrinkled piece of paper, riki's handwriting in blue was barely legible, but you tried to read it anyway. it began with the words, ‘i don't wanna feel like this,’ and panic shot through you, eyes darting from left to right as you read. as you continued, it became clear that this was not a suicide note, but lyrics. lyrics about you. they had to be, or you were going crazy from missing him, your eyes quickly tearing up. you knew what you had to do. this was your last chance to not screw up, your last chance before riki drove his trailer out of town and never again returned to you.

 -♡-

sleeveless arm opening the door, riki blinked hard when he saw you standing there. there were dark circles beneath his eyes that stood out on his otherwise blush-stained face, his thin tank top clung loosely to his body, and he was looking at you as if you would disappear if he pinched himself. a chrome hearts 22 scented candle, placed on his countertop, replaced the sun's natural light after it had disappeared into the night. the amber glow of him, the shadows cast over all that his candle could not reach, it seemed like something orchestrated by a film director. faintly, a melody and voice that you attributed to brent faiyaz played from his phone. you would have to ask him for the song name again, but that was for later.

 “i'm sorry.”

your speech, this time, was clear. you weren't fighting off sleep, although it was dark outside, your nerves kept you wide awake.

“i saw your story and i'm sorry i took this long, but i forgive you. i'm not mad at you– well, i am, but not enough to cut you out of my life. i've really been missing you. i've been missing how you always make me laugh after a shitty shift, and your stupid smug face, and i meant to tell you all of this earlier, but i was so busy trying not to fail every class and–”

your widened eyes shutting, you accepted riki's kiss. he practically dragged you inside as he closed the door, lips not once leaving yours. you were almost suffocating, you pulled back to breathe and saw the utter coveting on his face, like how you used to look at him.

“i didn't know what to do, couldn't stop thinking about you,” he confessed, laying you on the couch, “i don't know how to let you go.”

it was unimaginable that you would ever be on the receiving end of those words from riki, your riki. the boy who had ever so malevolently captured your heart all those years ago, refusing to ever set you free from the effects of whatever love potion he had infected you with. for so long, you had been chasing after his shadow, yearning for someone who stayed out of your grasp, your distant star that had finally come towards you.

“then don't,” you responded, “please don't.”

his face hovered above yours as he shook his head, shadows swimming across his skin.

“never.”

he kissed you again, licking at your lips until they parted for him, using his tongue to elicit cute moans from you. every part of you had missed this, missed his touch and kiss. just one time was enough to have gotten you addicted. 

his flat palm slid down your side, under your top, feeling your warming skin. he used his other hand to cradle your head, tilting it around to kiss you even deeper. every breath that couldn't escape through your nostrils was swallowed into riki's mouth, like he was inhaling your very soul. fingernails scratching your scalp, riki gave your hair light tugs to make you whimper, he growled into the kiss as he began to nibble at your lip. riki felt your soft flesh between his teeth, chewed and tugged at it, he was ready to eat you up. just to have you with him forever, completely his in a way that nothing could change.

“wait,” you broke the kiss and he frowned.

“the song– it was about me, right?”

riki scoffed and shook his head, pushing your body down with a grin.

“you silly girl, who else could it be?”

your head fell onto the armrest as riki rushed to take off his loose-fitting top, the tattoo across the expanse of his side no longer hidden, along with the kiss print that you had seen earlier. his arms flexed as they moved and you just admired him, how could you not? the moles scattered across his skin like constellations– you would kiss each one if given the chance– and every line of contour on his body, defined and divine. you could have spent forever looking only at him. 

“riki,” you called, in dire need of his touch, “come back.”

“i'm right here, pretty, i'm not going anywhere.”

his hand came down to cup your cheek, silver bracelets hung from his wrist, you saw the sparkle as they caught dim light.

“what do you need,” he asked, low and teasing, fighting back his grin when you were so adorable under him, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

“i need you, so bad, please.”

you were dangerously hot, practically melting just from the kisses, and you could feel your emptiness as it begged to be filled by riki.

in the shadows of his trailer, you missed the massive strain against his black sweats, and the darkened patch on his boxers as he brought them down. your tongue peaked out from your lips once you saw his dick, your pupils growing in size, and riki laughed at you.

“you wanna touch it?”

at your nod, riki's longer fingers wrapped around yours and brought your hand down to his erection. the cold, wet sensation of his precum sent a shiver through your nerves, he guided your fingers to curl around him and you started stroking it as he held your hand.

“fuck,” he sighed, his dick twitching in your grasp, “you feel perfect, baby.”

the praise made your thighs squeeze, you whined as more arousal flowed from your empty hole. you smeared his dick in its precum, getting it wet and shiny, riki bit his lip as you brushed the rosy tip and your intertwined fingers were coated with more of it.

“can i have you inside now, please?”

your eyes were virtually twinkling and you had the prettiest pout, how could he ever say no to you?

his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, he was too slow as he dragged it down, watching the sticky string that stretched as he did.

“look how wet you are,” riki marvelled, zeroed in on your glistening pussy, “sexy as fuck.”

he swiped at the pool you had given him, brought his fingers to his fat tongue, and sucked. if his dick wasn't about to explode, he would have double-dipped and gotten seconds. instead, he settled for another taste of your lips as he pushed inside of you. your hands flew to his back, nails sinking into skin as you screamed without sound. riki waited, painstakingly waited for you to adjust, before he began moving. your leg came around his waist and you were nearly falling off the couch to make room for him, but neither of you could care less.

 he started slow, scared of you actually tumbling onto the floor, more energy in his kiss than his hips. your tongues met and, by now, you had started to expect the sweetness. riki's mouth tasted like honey and salted nuts, but just barely. it was likely the smell of his breath, tangy along with the sweetness, as your noses touched. his mouth was dry, and you licked it nice and wet for him, gasping into it as he pushed his dick in and out of you. at his current pace, you shivered from the sensation of it dragging through every ridge, too tight for him to have any wiggle room. a sudden bite came to your lip after you constricted, his attempt to keep quiet, the pain only making you clench harder.

“ah, fuck,” he groaned, his voice raising, “can barely move, baby, relax for me.”

his eyelashes covered his eyes as he gazed down at your pussy, stuffed full with him and drooling onto it, vein on his forehead becoming prominent as his eyebrows were pushed together. riki would have been satisfied to die after seeing you like this.

 “sorry,” you whined, shifting your hips to gather the friction you were desperate for, “think it's too much.”

“how, baby? you took me before, you can do it now,” he guided. 

wound tight, you let your body loosen, your back on the armrest and your foot slipping down his back.

“that's my pretty baby, i knew you could do it.”

his praise, although sweet, was dead wrong. you couldn't do it, not when he had started fucking deep into you again, you were gonna explode from how good it was. 

his thrusts were as if he was making up for lost time, couch groaning from under your back and your legs shaking. you were full, stretched around his thick length, and yet still greedy for more.

“keep sucking me in,” he breathed, “you want me to cum deep inside, yeah?”

“yes, please, yes!”

by now, you were fully scratching his back, your moans loud as they filled his trailer. so, so close to nirvana, he was bringing you. your top was yanked up, riki's mouth agape as he watched your tits bounce for him, nearly as hot as your ass was. as much as he would have loved to watch you touch yourself and play with those perky nipples, you needed to keep holding onto him. his desperate thing, unable to let go, the sting from your scratches making his balls tighten. he used a wet finger to play with your clit, deliberately letting it come into contact with the cool surface of his ring, your body jolting from his touch.

more than anything, for as long as ever, you had craved riki. he was more than you could have asked for, hitting at just the right angle every time, playing with you perfectly. your fingers slid across the sweat that formed on his back and you couldn't look away from his handsome face. his cheekbones seemed more prominent in the dark, a glint in his intense gaze, and the swell of his lips from your kisses. only yours, this riki was no one else's. you clenched around him like you could never let him leave, not when he fucked you this well, and he knew you were right on the edge.

“do it for me, baby,” he guided, pinching your clit, “let me see you.”

you were cumming around him before you knew it, your eyes rolling back, hands going limp over his tattooed back. he kept thrusting as you covered him in slick, letting you ride out the blissful waves of your orgasm. riki had been holding back, waiting until he felt the squeeze of your tight pussy as you came around him, but now he could chase his own release.

 already sensitive from the aftershocks, riki's failure to stop– or even slow down– brought tears to your fluttering eyes. if anything, he had sped up, his hips slamming against yours in a brutal pace. so brutal, that you couldn't believe it when a wetness landed on your cheek, making your eyes shoot open. you watched as a tear slid down riki's nose, falling onto your face, and he tried to blink the others away.

“i love you,” he dared to utter, shaky and breathless, stilling as he flooded your pussy with his nut. the warmth made you feel dizzier than you already were, and you thought that maybe you were hearing things.

“what?”

strained from all your moaning, your voice was raspy as you questioned him, but it could not make riki back down, not on this. 

“i love you.”

the words came out once more, like a plea, light reflecting from his dewy skin, his eyes wide beneath furrowed brows. riki kissed you before you could respond, ignoring how your eyes remained open as he did so, and the weight of his body then collapsed on top of you.

you stayed like that until his breaths were soft and constant, until the flame from his candle grew weak and his back steadily rose and fell under your palms. your mixed juices dripped out from where your bodies connected, and you didn't have a clue in the world as to what would happen next. you didn't know how you would keep seeing him after the tour finished, didn't know what it would be like to date him, didn't know what it meant to be loved by a star. all the time that you had spent wanting him, and you had failed to even once consider what you would do once you had him. a dream come true, your past self would be over the moon, but how were you meant to navigate dreams in the real world?

in his sleep, riki's arms wrapped and tightened around you, the arms of the man who had just confessed that he loved you. he was too drunk, you told yourself, and you were too volatile. despite how you wanted to see things, you were just as reckless as he was, throwing everything away to be in his hold for a little longer. nothing was certain, especially not with you and riki, no one could guess how this love would progress. all you were sure of was that, because he had landed in your orbit, because you had finally caught the boy from the brick wall between your nervous fingers, you were never going to let him go. now, more than anything else, riki belonged to you.

most of the time, late nights are spent lying on his bed, vinyl spinning softly on his player, sharing headphones, fingers intertwined… those were the moments sunghoon felt the closest to you.

the two of you don’t really share the same music sense, but he loved how your eyes flutter when a certain line from his choice of music hit you. he loved how you’d squeeze his hand when the song said something you couldn’t say yourself.

music was intimate.

holy. 

just like tonight. 

the two of you were tangled on his bed, lights dimmed—only the warm bedside table that cast soft shadows over. sunghoon lay on his back with you curled against his chest, his arm loosely around your waist. 

the vinyl cracked as an old, romantic ballad began to play—slow piano and softer vocals, this timeless love song that was written in dark meant for slow dancing. 

you hummed softly, a nostalgic smile forming on your lips. 

even though it’s been so long, my love for you keeps going strong, i remember the things we used to do,

“oh… this song,” you whispered, voice warm with memory. “i didn’t know you had a record of natalia cole.”

sunghoon stayed quiet for  a moment, his fingers tracing circles on your bare waist. your top hiked up a little when you shifted. his voice came out calm, almost like a hum, indifferent. 

“yeah? i like this album a lot,” he said softly, eyes still on the spinning vinyl. “you like her, baby?”

you shook your head lightly, still smiling.

“mm, not really… but my ex used to dedicate this song to me all the time. he said it was our song—for whenever he missed me. it’s funny hearing it now.”

what?

sunghoon’s hand stopped moving on your waist.

almost instantly, something shifted behind his eyes. you couldn’t see it since you were still curled against his chest, but his jaw tightened, eyebrows furrowed in a cold what the fuck? expression.

on the outside, he remained mostly still. calm. still cool, still composed. but inside, a storm was raging violently.

that song. a song from one of his favourite albums that he played for you on the vinyl. the one playing while you’re here laying in his arms, in his bed, in his space—had been “their song”? your worthless, piece of shit ex boyfriend claimed it first? had played it for you? whispered the same lyrics he felt for you? 

his chest tightened. 

fuck—sunghoon knew it was in the past now, but it had happened once. that’s not just something sunghoon could put aside. sure, he knew you’ve dated once or twice before, but he never knew that the two of you did such intimate acts like this too.

sunghoon slowly sat up a little, reaching over to lift the needle off the vinyl, stopping the song mid–lyric.

you blinked, lifted your head.

“baby? why’d you stop it?”

sunghoon gave a small, lazy shrug. “just felt like changing it.”

but his mind was spiraling. how dare you smile like that while talking about another man? how dare you look so nostalgic over a song that should belong to us? 

you sat up lightly, studying his face with a small, amused smile. 

“...are you jealous, hoonie?”

he let out a soft scoff, leaning back against the headboard. “jealous?” he raised an eyebrow. “of what?”

you tilted your head, that teasing smile still plastered on your pretty face. “because i said my ex dedicated this song to me—then you got all quiet and changed the record right after.”

sunghoon stayed quiet for a second, then spoke lowly, still trying to sound indifferent. 

“yeah. i don’t like it.”

you blinked, a little surprised by his honesty. 

“oh… well, it’s just a song, baby. and he’s an ex—it’s a long time ago.”

that sentence seemed to flip a switch.

for someone who’s supposed to be an ex—for something supposed to be a long time ago—why did you still remember it? why did you mention it if it’s just a song?

sunghoon turned his head to look at you fully. his tone was still calm, but not laced with a sharp edge beneath. 

“just a song?” he repeated. “then why are you smiling like that when you talk about him dedicating it to you? why does your face light up when you remember something he did?”

you frowned, slightly taken aback. “sunghoon, you’re overreacting. it’s just nostalgia for me. it really doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

“it means something to me,” he said quietly, but his eyes had grown darker. “i hate knowing another guy used to play this song for you. i hate knowing he called it your song—and now every time i hear it, i’m only goin’ to fucking think of him touching you and whispering those lyrics to you.”

the argument was starting to build.

what’s up with him—? you frowned, getting confused. he was never as worked as this before. truly, it’s just a fucking song. 

you sighed, “it’s not that deep—”

“it is that deep,” he cut in, voice still low but firmer. “you’re mine, now. i don’t want anything from your past still making you smile like that.”

a heavy silence settled between you two.

you hated when sunghoon acted like this. crossing your arms, you leaned back against the headboard, no longer looking at him.

great—now the mood’s ruined because of this stupid fucking song.

“...it’s really not that serious.” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes.

that was your mistake. 

sunghoon’s entire demeanour shifted. 

“oh yeah?” his voice was still quiet, but cold now. there was a slight scoff to it. “then tell me more about how he dedicated it to you.”

he played the song again. the record spinned beneath the needle.

you glanced at him, annoyed. “sunghoon, come on—”

“no, no, tell me.” he sat up straighter, eyes locked on you. “did he play it while you guys kissed? did he whisper the lyrics in your ear? did he say he loved you while this song was on? did he play it while he fucked you?”

your eyes widened. “what the hell is wrong with you? he’s an ex! it was years ago!”

“exactly! so why the fuck are you still smiling about it?” his tone sharpened. “why does your face light up when you talk about another man’s song for you?”

“it’s just nostalgia! gosh, you’re being ridicul—”

“ridiculous?” he cut you off, letting a low, bitter laugh out. “i’m ridiculous for now wanting my girlfriend to reminisce about her ex while she’s in my bed?”

the argument boiled harder. your voice overlapped, tension thickening the air.

you snapped, “you’re acting insecure as hell right no—”

that was the final trigger.

sunghoon moved fast.

his hand shot out—grabbing the back of your head roughly. his fingers curled and tightened around your hair in a viscous grip, digging hard into your scalp until you swore you felt your strands were ripping out. his nails scraped against your skin as he twisted his wrist, yanking your head back so he could get better leverage.

then he slammed your face down with force into the spinning vinyl record. 

CRRRAAACCK—!

the thick vinyl shattered instantly under the impact. sharp, jagged pieces exploded outward like broken glass. the edge of the record sliced into your forehead and cheek, carving long, ugly gashes across your skin. blood burst out immediately, smearing across the broken record and dripping onto the bedsheets in warm rivulets.

you screamed in agony, the sound muffled as he kept your face pressed down against the spinning wreckage. your hands shot up to grip his wrist, drawing your nails to pry him off. 

a sharp shade embedded itself into your cheek, cutting through flesh and nearly reaching the inside of your mouth. another piece sliced dangerously close to your eye, but blood poured into it and blurring your vision red.

sunghoon’s breathing was heavy but still controlled, his grip unrelenting as he ground your face harder. the distorted, warped sound of natalie cole’ voice kept skipping underneath your bloodied face—the romantic lyrics now twisted and grotesque. 

i miss you like crazy,  i miss you like crazy,  ever since you went away, every hour of the day, i miss you like crazy

“still feelin’ nostalgic?” he whispered against your eyes, voice low and terrifyingly calm. “does it still remind you of him?”

he lifted your head slightly, only to slam it down again even harder into the shattered vinyl.

more pieces of the record broke and dug into your skin. a long, razor sharp shard sliced across your eyebrow and eyelid. your nose throbbed painfully—broken. 

sunghoon finally released your hair, letting your body drop heavily onto the bed.

you lay there gasping and whimpering, fingers curled into the white–red bedsheet. face a bloody mess, you were trembling, barely able to think through the pain, but still conscious.

sunghoon stared down at you for a moment, breathing steadily, his expression eerily calm. you thought it was over, then—thought sunghoon was finally done with his lesson on you—

then he reached over and grabbed the entire record player—the vintage machine, wood base and all—lifting it with both hands.

you barely had time to register through your red blurry vision what was happening before he brought it down with viscous force. 

the heavy record player slammed directly onto your upper body. you whimpered, cried out in pain as your whole body bounced on the mattress from the impact, a choke scream ripping from your throat—followed with a bloodied cough.

the hard wooden base bruised your ribs.

CRASH.

your body bounced harder this time, the bed creaking loudly as the heavy player smashed down onto your stomach and chest. your heard something crack—possibly a rib, or a bone. blood sprayed and soaked the sheets.

“i hate it, i hate it, yn, shit,” he hissed, slamming the entire player down onto you again and again. your body jerked and bounced pathetically with every brutal hit. each impact forced the air out of your lungs in wet cries. 

your face was already a mangled mess—now your body too. your body sunghoon loved very much. deep slashes across your pretty face, and bruises and cuts across your torso wherever the machine landed. even breathing was painful.

one eye swollen shut, filled with blood. 

your boyfriend finally paused, holding the broken record player in his hands while looking down at your twitching, whimpering, non–responding body.

“alright now, baby,” he panted, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead from the effort. he dropped the heavy record player on the bed next to him, then reached for his phone on the nightstand. 

“let’s dedicate a song for right now… right here.” 

well, i'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man, you better keep your head, little girl, or i won't know where I am,

sunghoon hovered over your broken, twitching body. blood continued to leak as he gentle brushed some bloody hair away from your forehead, almost tenderly, as the deep gravelly voice song:

well, you know that i'm a wicked guy and i was born with a jealous mind and i can't spend my whole life trying just to make you toe the line

“you hear that?” he whispered, leaning down close to your ear. “i’m a jealous man—and this one’s better. this song is only for you and me.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your bloodied temple, right over a deep cut, while the song continued playing—dark obsessive lyrics filling the room as you lay there barely conscious, whimpering weakly. 

it was as if the lyrics were pressing on your cuts.

let this be a sermon i mean everything i’ve said baby, i'm determined and i'd rather see you dead

sunghoon pulled back slightly, staring down your face. and i’d rather see you dead—than to be with another man. even if you’re his now. sunghoon couldn’t allow another man residing in your thoughts. 

he reached for black aux cord of the record player—and without a word, looped it around your neck.

your eyes widened in panic as you felt the cord tighten. 

“mmh—! sunghoon—ack—please!”

sunghoon straddled your chest as you tried to pry him off—so he pinned your arms down with his knees. slowly, he began pulling the cord from both ends.

the cord dug deep into your already blood–slick neck, cutting into skin. you choked instantly, a wet gurgling sound escaping your ruined lips as your body jerked violently underneath him.

“i’d rather see you dead…” he whispered along with the song as he pulled harder.

your legs kicked weakly against the mattress. your fingers scratched useless at his hands and the cord, but you were already too weak from his earlier beating. blood from your face and chest continued to pour as you thrashed. 

sunghoon never raised his voice, instead, he simply leaned closer, watching your face intently as he tightened the cord even more, muscles flexing in his arms. 

your face turned a deep, ugly purple. your tongue protruded slightly. your one remaining eye rolled back, tears mixing with blood.

“ack—hngh,” you cried and choked out sobs, head tipping back as the cord pulled at your skin. the thick wire dug mercilessly into the soft flesh of your neck, crushing your windpipe. so tight it cuts into your skin, drawing blood that trickled down your collarbones.

your body convulsed beneath him. bloody foam bubbled at the corners of your mouth. 

you stiffened, then began jerking in violent spasms—that’s just your body reacting to survival. your back arched off the bed as your lungs burned for air. a final, pitiful “hngh—” escaped you before your movements died down.

sunghoon leaned down closer, pressing his forehead against yours while still choking the last bit of life out of you. 

“stop remembering him,” he murmured against your bloody lips. “just die thinking of me,”

you better run for your life if you can, little girl, hide your head in the sand, little girl, catch you with another man, that's the end, little girl,

your body gave a few more weak twitches… then went completely limp.

when you stopped struggling entirely, only then did sunghoon slowly loosen the cord, lowering your body back into the bed. the cord left a horrifyingly deep ligature mark left behind.

he stared at your dead face for a long moment before gently brushing your hair back.

my love, there's only you in my life, the only thing that's right,

oh. 

this was the song sunghoon had dedicated to you. 

he turned his head towards his phone lying on the floor. the screen was still lit, showing the song’s cover.

“...baby?”

his voice came out hoarse. 

“yn?”

when he turned his head to face you again—

your face was still destroyed, body unnaturally still. 

there’s blood on his hands. 

Eunchae raises a brow, only slightly amused. She tries her best to not say she warned you, but it slips out anyway. “It’s Sunghoon, babe. What’d you expect from such a…hot-blooded Alpha?”

“He was different! Not that bad! Or Evil!!” You muffle your scream with your sleeve, then lift your head to stare at your best friends with puffy eyes.

The bar doesn’t lose its vibrancy: the bartender doesn’t acknowledge your half hearted attempts at convincing your friends and nosy patrons (by proximity), and the music still plays on. You cry a little harder when a song Sunghoon had on his ‘my life’s a movie fr’ playlist coincidentally blares through the speakers.

Eunchae stifles a groan. “Get a grip, bitch. He’s evil. And dumb. Or evil, because he’s dumb—I don’t fucking know.” Her eyes bulge a little as she leans across Jisoo toward you. Naturally, you cower at the sudden wave of energetic dominance she emanates, and although you’ve been friends for years—Eunchae’s still an Alpha and you’re still an Omega.

She softens, but Jisoo lays a hand over hers before speaking.

“I know it’s frustrating… but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise?” She hesitantly starts. You look up and squeeze the shot glass between your palms, warming its surface.

“What do you mean?”

“I just think a guy who could mentally stimulate you might be a better match.”

Eunchae cackles, quickly butting in after taking a swig from her glass. “—what Jisoo’s trying to say is Sunghoon’s an actual dumbass. Like, the lights aren’t on at home. Ever.”

You pout at that. While a huge part of you wanted to defend him, you couldn’t lie. Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who looked like he walked straight of a Sports Illustrated magazine—a dream in dark blue jersey crop tops and denim low-rise jeans—but he’s an absolute himbo, and most conversations about your hobbies required…further explanation.

“Yeah, but he’s the only Alpha that’s never treated me like I’m dumb.” You say, downcast gaze watching the condensation mark your glass.

“That’s because he’s dumber than you—“

Eunchae groans once Jisoo’s sharp elbow hits her stomach, and stifles a scream.

“I know, sweetie. But if he was an actually good guy, he wouldn’t talk about planning ways to get back with his ex.” She utters gently, doe eyes glistening as she clasped a hand around yours comfortingly.

“What an asshole.” Eunchae grits out, before absentmindedly muttering “If I were you—I’d fuck his ex. Get my lick back, you know?”

You still, the gears immediately churning and straightening your back. You zone out on the array of bottled liquor, squinting as you rolled her words in your mouth.

“That’s a great idea, actually.”

Your best friends whip toward you with wide eyes. “Ayo, it was a joke—“ Eunchae squeaks, folding under the weight of Jisoo’s thinly veiled anger.

You push to your feet abruptly, palms slamming against the bar. Quickly, you smooth a hand over your perfectly glossed curled hair, steadying yourself, then swing around and toss your bag over your shoulder.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep. Big day tomorrow.” You say and vanish—leaving a trail of vanilla and brown sugar in your wake.

Eunchae and Jisoo stare at each other before Jisoo rolls her eyes with a groan. “Oh god—this is so bad.”

Heads turn at the sharp, charming click of your kitten heels against the marbled floors of the art department. After cornering Heeseung—who had originally refused to tell you anything more about Sunghoon, even after guiltily sending those screenshots from the boys’ group chat—you finally wore him down. A few well-placed crocodile tears later, he cracked.

And that’s how you end up in the fine arts building, scanning hallways for the sculpture studio. More people are staring than usual. Not because of your doe eyes and perfectly painted lipstick. But because your heat is only a few weeks away, and you deliberately didn’t take your suppressants so that Sunghoon would catch your scent all over campus—your scent is stronger than it should be.

Another scent dances into the hall the closer you get to the studio: something like yuzu tea and sunshine bottled up into a singular room. It was strong. Effortlessly enticing—Beautiful before you’d even laid your eyes on her. You knew it was her the moment you caught a whiff.

The studio is empty, save for a single silhouette standing at its center. A fitted black sweater clings to a narrow waist, dark hair cut short enough to curl softly at the nape. She’s taller than you imagined—almost as tall as Sunghoon—and the realization stings. You’d always assumed he preferred shorter partners. Most alphas, after all, gravitate toward omegas smaller than them.

Her pale hands dragged along a clay statue, molding the shape with a delicate, deliberate touch. She turns her head at the sound of your steps—

And what you see steals your breath from your throat.

Sharp, fox-like eyes run along your form—his pierced, pale pink tongue licks over the other cold metal piercing on his lips. A natural, dewy flush decorates the bridge of his nose, and his voice shocks you from your trance. Holy fuck.

That’s…not a girl. You think.

“…do you need something?” It’s soft. A little hesitant. Shy. The sound tickles your ears as you duck your head.

You stutter, clasping your small hands together, before bubbling the words out.

“I—oh god, you’re beautiful.”

His lips part slightly at that, a flush creeping down the line of his throat. The two of you lapse into a flustered silence, and he just stands there—wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

After a second, he ducks his head, peering at you shyly through his bangs. “That’s sweet of you to say—” he begins, voice even softer now, before glancing off to the side as if the wall has suddenly become fascinating. “Do you… need help with anything in the studio?”

You stare back at his face with your heart caught in your throat. It’d be easier to lie—to form a ruse just to get close enough to touch—but it didn’t feel right. Staring at him now, you’re struck with the realization of how shady this sort of ordeal would be.

“Honestly? I came here without thinking,” you admit, lifting your chin as you step closer.

You have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes—and he reddens instantly at the shortened distance. God, you’re pretty. There’s something almost doll-like about you, unsettling in its perfection. He has to bite down on the dangerous thought that you might be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen before it distracts him completely.

He waits, silent, patient.

“I—I’m Sunghoon’s girlfriend.” Your fingers tighten around your own wrist. “Or… I was.”

Something in his expression shifts. The light in his eyes dims, brows pulling together in a complicated crease. He fucking hated that guy.

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it?

You shake your head, and anxiously turn away. “I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea—“

“W-wait.” He pipes up, grasping your wrist hesitantly. “You don’t have to leave.”

To your absolute horror, a tiny sob squeaks out of you. It’s embarrassingly small—but in the quiet studio, it might as well echo. You blink up at him with comically watery eyes, lashes clumping together as you try (and fail) to look dignified. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m sorry—I came in here with really awful intentions,” you blurt, words tumbling over each other. “I wanted to screw him over by sleeping with you. I thought you were a woman at first, and doesn’t even matter that you’re not—and he’s just so mean. He didn’t even have the decency to break up with me before planning to get you back.”

Sunoo goes completely rigid, eyes wide as he tries to process the avalanche you’ve just dumped on him. Then something sharp—almost offended—flickers in his gaze.

“I would rather get run over by my own kiln,” he says flatly, “than get back with that dumbass.”

“He always wants what he can’t have. Pretty sure his processing rate is below average.” He finalizes blandly. “Take a seat.” He slides a stool forward and gently pushes you to sit.

Sunoo leans back against a table, perching his weight on his palms as they grasped the sides.

“Listen, I don’t want him back. To be honest, I had no clue that he was even trying to reach out because he’s blocked.”

You sniffle, folding your hands on your lap anxiously. This is so embarrassing. What were you even thinking? The next time you see Eunchae, you’re going to wring her neck.

“It’s not even that. Good Alphas are hard to come by nowadays, and I thought I’d found one who actually cared about me,” you admit.

Sunoo watches you thoughtfully before replying, “I get it. Being an Omega’s no easy feat. That’s why I hate Alphas most of the time…guess I got too distracted by his washboard abs when I agreed to go out with him.” He laughs softly.

Being near him is strangely calming. The day drifts on, and you find yourself sitting on that stool for hours, talking about Sunghoon—and then about life as an Omega. You bond over your shared love for beauty and aesthetics, and he even lets you touch his eyebrow piercing while continuing to sculpt. The goodbye is silent, but warm when he drops you off at your dorms before striding off—taking the only sound of his earrings softly clinking with him.

The next day, Sunoo leans against the wall of your Socioeconomics class, quietly watching as you approach in an excited flurry.

His dark hair is styled straight, three silver piercings dangling from each ear. A fitted turtleneck hugs his lithe figure, paired with baggy, low-waisted dark jeans. When you instinctively reach for his hands, the vision of you together is a clash of black and pastel pink.

“Sunoo!” you squeal, the scent of vanilla stronger in the presence of your joy—even after taking suppressants. Gazing up at him, you hold onto his hand. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles softly, voice low, naturally tinged with melancholia. “Yesterday was fun. Stopped by to tell you you’re welcome to come to the studio whenever. Helped me pass the time.”

A genuine smile curls your lips, the sunlight catching flecks on your gloss.

“No takesie backsies.”

Hangouts at the studio steadily turned into hangouts everywhere else. Over time, you became a regular face at the fine arts department—and people took notice of how close the two of you’d gotten in a short span of time.

Friendship with Sunoo’s as easy as breathing: cute friend dates to dessert cafes, shopping for matching collars, cozy nights in with shared self-care routines, and trips to the photo booth—it fit snugly. Comfortably. He never unsettled you the way an Alpha did. Your shared love of physical touch always resulted in the two of you curling your bodies together—or walking around campus palm in palm, and pressing your temples against each other when greeting.

✿

You sit near a large banana tree plant, at the corner of the campus cafe—catching up between classes.

Heeseung sips on his iced coffee loudly, eying you suspiciously. “You’ve gotten…real close to Sunoo, lately. That’s a surprise.”

You giggle, a happy churning in your stomach at the mention of someone who was growing more special to you by the day. “Yeah—I’m surprised too, given the situation. Guess we bonded over having a shared ex rather than fighting.”

He pops open the cap of his cup and tips it back, pouring a few cubes of ice into his mouth before crunching down on them.

“Well, yeah,” he says around the cold, “but Sunoo’s so fucking grouchy all the time. He can be a real asshole. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bite your head off the second you mentioned Sunghoon.”

Sunoo? Grouchy?

You stare at Heeseung, bewildered. “He’s so sweet and soft spoken most of the time. Not a single mean bone in his body, Hee.”

Heeseung almost spits out his ice.

“The fuck? Are we talking about the same person?”

“Pretty sure?”

“I fucking thought something was up.” He pips, face painted with delight. “He’s into you.”

“Stop it—“ You utter shyly, gaze dropping to your lap. “We’re good friends. He’d never see me like that.”

“You don’t know Kim Sunoo the way I do,” Heeseung says, voice low and a little mischievous. “He might be an omega, but he’s a total menace. The first time Riki met him, he made the guy cry with just one sentence…because he stood too close. Oh, and he also hated Riki’s designs. Brutal, right?”

“You’re not lying?” you ask, voice sweet and innocent, eyes wide. Your fingers reach to fiddle with the thin collar on your neck.

Heeseung almost coos at the sight, completely undone by how earnestly adorable you look: all pastel pink, draped in lace. “Scouts honor.” He replies, his index finger signing an invisible x over his heart.

“Wanna know a secret, though?” He whispers and leans forward, eyes glinting dangerously. Your eyes widen at the sudden dizzying scent of his pheromones—cedar, cinnamon, and black pepper.

You crane your neck towards him, nodding vigorously

“Sunoo’s a huge masochist—that’s why he has so many piercings.” He grins at you, clearly enjoying how red you’ve gone. He could practically see steam rising off you.

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled squeak. “Hee, what the—what the fuck?”

Heeseung reaches over to tug your pinky into his grip, holding it playfully for a moment before pausing. He glances over your shoulder, casual yet deliberate. “Incoming.”

You follow his gaze and brighten immediately.

Sunoo’s dark hair is spiked, styled just messy enough to look effortless. Silver rings gleam along his knuckles when he moves, catching the light. Your gaze drifts—slow and shameless—over the rest of him, taking in the long sleeve layered beneath a baggy graphic tee, the matching collar to yours snug around his throat. You stop yourself short of inhaling his scent deeply.

His eyes, however, are trained onto your hand in Heeseung’s.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” He utters at the man dryly, running the ball of his tongue piercing across his teeth. He pops his gum disinterestedly.

Heeseung smiles hard enough to crease his eyes into little moons. “I’d much rather be here.”

“Of course—mommy and daddy are gonna pay your way into graduation, right?” He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at Heeseung with an empty expression.

Your eyes flicker between them, bewildered. “Why are you guys acting so… strange?” you ask, reaching out to tug gently at Sunoo’s fingers. He softens instantly at the way you look up at him from your seat.

“I got you a slice of matcha cake,” he says, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, ignoring Heeseung completely. “There’s a cafe I think you’d like.”

He chuckles softly when he notices the white lace parasol perched beside the table and takes in the pale pink baby doll dress you had on. “And what a cute little dress.”

You jump up to spin for him excitedly. “This is the one you picked out, remember?”

Sunoo takes your hands gently, smiling brightly. “I knew you’d look pretty in it.”

Heeseung gags silently in the corner. All he wanted was a chance to tease Sunoo, but now he’s stuck third-wheeling—and on the verge of throwing himself into mid-day traffic. Neither you nor Sunoo notice, still chatting excitedly with each other. Heeseung watches a little longer, smiling softly when he realizes the two of you look like little bunnies side by side.

Seriously—the two of you were the prettiest Omegas he’s ever known, and seeing you side by side was no joke. He stills the moment a…particular scent wafts in his direction. A fragrant haze of pink and hot, gooey vanilla drape across the cafe—turning heads in alarm at its heaviness.

His eyes flash before standing to take a step away from you.

“Sweetie, did you forget to take your suppressants?”

You pause in horror. How could you be so stupid? Your heat’s right around the corner—

With fumbling hands, you tug your phone out of your handbag and check the date.

Fuck.

It’s today.

Your heat cycle’s today and you’re seated in a crowded cafe without your pheromone suppressants.

Shakily, you glance around the room, your heart hammering as several Alphas cast uneasy glances, struggling to control their reactions to your trigger-happy scent.

You’re scared.

Really scared.

And you can’t will yourself to move. Even Heeseung’s struggling to stay neutral, a slow fever bleeding into his eyes. When his chest starts heaving, he hastily turns.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go.” His gaze is heavy with apology—but you knew it was for the best. Heeseung’s an Alpha, and a chaotic one at that. You knew he’d never endanger you willingly, no matter how most Alpha’s scared you.

Sunoo wakes you from your frightened trance.

“Come on—let’s get you out of here.” He slides a slim arm around your neck protectively, sharp eyes pointing defensively at any lingering looks.

You can’t believe you forgot one of the worst parts of breaking up with Sunghoon: having to face your heat cycle alone.

The day has arrived, and you don’t have the slightest idea how you’re going to get through it.

The hot pink corner light casts soft, intimate shadows across your room. Sunoo helps you peel off your dress, leaving you in your undergarments, and gently wipes the sweat from your skin. The heat cycle feels more like a fever the longer you’re not touched.

“Sunoo, it hurts.” You arch your back softly, hair spilling on the pillow messily, as strands stick to the sweat on your skin.

His unreadable eyes stay locked on your face as he watches you writhe for five long minutes. Then he rises, the bed creaking softly under him as he climbs on and begins to peel off his layers slowly.

Your breath catches, pink blooming across your flushed cheeks as you stare at him with glossy eyes. The soft, curved tips of your acrylic nails brush against your lips, trembling as you gaze at him in shock.

He kneels on the bed, abdomen twitching and tensing without meaning to. His pale hand reaches to nervously tug at his collar. “You can…use me. As much as you want.”

After a couple of moments of stunned silence, he squirms. Even under the pink light, the red in his cheeks seemed to glow. “I know i’m not an Alpha, but I can keep up. I can handle most things.”

The slick tacking your thighs together thickens. His flush only deepens when he hears it.

“Sun, you really don’t have to—“

“I want to.” He interrupts.

You rise to crawl towards him on all fours, peering up shyly. He sucks in a breath, slightly flinching.

The soft chime of your collars marks each small movement. His lips part as you slip your fingers inside, pressing gently against the sharp edge of an incisor.

“When I’m in heat… I like biting. And being bitten,” you admit, your voice a soft murmur. “Is that okay?”

“Do whatever you want,” he breathes. “I’ll let you know if I don’t like something.”

“You can do anything to me too,” you reply, your palms resting on the soft flesh of your thighs. The glint of his nipple piercings catches the light, almost winking in the dimness.

Everything about the moment feels strangely innocent, despite the context. The sight of his bare body, his willingness to touch you without any need to dominate, offers a comfort you never knew you needed—or were even allowed to have. Its saccharine. Warm. A clouded devotion that perfumes the air around you with something soft and tender—something Omegas like you both rarely have the privilege of knowing.

You both lean in, necks craning toward each other, breaths mingling in the narrow space between you, just a hair strand away from falling into each other.

Slick pools between your legs almost gelatinously, a soft pour trickling down your inner thigh. He sees it, and his hand rises slowly, fingers curling to cup you, stroking two fingers down the lining of your cunt. You throb at the contact, clenching as he petted the surface.

When the cold metal of his piercings press against your lips, as he slides his thin fingers in you, it settles in softly. The kiss isn’t a dramatic homecoming—it’s gentle. Quietly sacred. Reassuring in all the ways Sunoo knew how to calm the anxiety Omega’s always felt even during the high of being in heat.

Your hands find his shoulders, steadying yourself against their surprising breadth. The slow building pace he settles into physically shakes your body as he switches between driving upwards and rubbing your clit. You push deeper, licking shyly into his mouth, and gasp as he boldly pushes into yours. Your brow lifts at the feel of his tongue piercing, the smooth metal rolling against your own muscle. His left hand reaches to grip onto the meat of your hip with a strength you didn’t know he could summon.

Wet sounds fill the room—saliva strands hanging between your lips every time you pulled away just to dive back in. Your fingers lift to roll over his nipples experimentally, and sigh happily into his mouth when you hear the small moan leave him

Sunoo pulls his hand away, and you whine softly at the sudden loss of contact. When you finally break the kiss, you barely have time to steady yourself before you meet his gaze—and flinch. His eyes are intense, almost dizzying, dark irises blown wide and glossed over with something feverish. There’s a glazed heat in them, a look that makes your pulse stutter.

He pushes you onto your back, and crawls face first between your legs.

Without pause, he drags his nose up the fabric of your underwear—sucking the slick from the fabric, then pushes it aside.

A low whine escapes him as his hips roll instinctively, seeking friction against nothing. His boxers are already soaked, a dark patch spreading where his own cock strains against the fabric. You can see the throbbing length twitch as he laps at you, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit before circling your clit. The metal ball of his piercing glints in the dim light as he flicks it against the sensitive bud, alternating between rapid flicks and deep, suctioning pulls that leave his chin dripping.

Your body twitches in little spasms once it registers the feeling of his tongue piercing rolling around the sensitive bud. His tongue pumps shallowly at first, then deeper, the knob of his piercing stroking your inner walls. Your knees threaten to knock together, but his arms lock around your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face deeper, devouring you

You comb your fingers through his hair.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. "Sunoo—breathe," you gasp, but he only whines against you, his eyes rolling back as he presses closer. The sound of his collar rattles softly as he shakes his head, refusing to pull away. When your legs lock around his neck, trapping him, he twitches violently, his fingers curling as he finds that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

He shakes his head side to side, collar rattling. He’s right where he wants to be.

The metal on his mouth grows warm. Your body feels like something molten—hot to the touch. D

Sunoo doesn’t notice—already lost in the fog of things, as your legs shook and hands fumbled to softly push at his head. He can’t will himself to pull his mouth away, drunk on the taste and heat of you. All he can smell is your particular scent of vanilla, and to his smug delight, traces of his own clean yuzu—erasing Heeseung’s earlier scent of cedar and cinnamon. The entangling scents calm his own anxieties: the ones that’ve been rearing their head every time he saw you with someone else. With someone bigger. Taller. More dominant.

He fucking hated Alphas.

You hide your hot face in your palms as you watch him continue to practically eat you, taking in the slender of his pale back and the small freckles peppering the surface of his shoulder blades and spine. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and hungry, as he widens his jaw, taking all of you in his mouth. Seeing his lips stretched around your pussy, his chin glistening with your release, sends another jolt through you.

Fisting the pillow, you bite your lip so hard it draws blood. Reaching out with a trembling hand, you caress his cheek. “Sunoo, it's sensitive”

He finally comes to his senses with a deep inhale, then slowly unlatches his lips from you. The surface is rubbed raw—pink, plump, and glistening. You clench around nothing at the sound of his voice.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek over your inner thigh in the moment of quiet, before he peers up at you.

You stare at each other, the reality of what just happened dawning in a flushed silence. Shame heats your face as you remember how much slick your body produces in heat, a detail alphas never failed to tease you about.

Sensing your embarrassment, Sunoo watches you from between your thighs. From there, he sees the muscles in your neck tense, your gaze drift away to something suddenly interesting on your left, and feels the faint tremble running through your legs. Slowly, he rises: sliding his cock out of his boxers with ease.

A gasp tumbles out of you at the sight of his own slick. Calmly, he tugs on your thighs until his cock settles between your folds, rubbing against them with ease. The sound of your combined slick is sinful—jarringly loud. He bites and toys with his lip piercing as his gaze fixes on where your bodies teeter on the edge of entry. “See how perfect this is? Look at you.” He marvels.

Clasping his neck, you press your chest to his, rubbing your nipples against his piercings. He hisses, a pretty moan stuttering from his lips as his head falls, overwhelmed by the sensitivity.

Gliding down, you wrap your lips prettily over his chest, your tits dragging against his abdomen before you flick your tongue across the surface—your pale pink gloss staining his porcelain skin.

Heeseung’s words rise to the surface: Sunoo’s a huge masochist.

And then, you bite.

His eyes widen when your teeth clack! against the metal, and you feel his cock twitch directly above your clit. “A-ah!”

One arm wraps around his waist while your small hand lifts to trace delicate fingers over his right nipple. You widen your jaw and bite again; leaving indentations circling around the glinting piercing. Sunoo’s eyes gleam in the pink light, lashes lining with pearl-like tears from the raw sensitivity.

His hips snap forward, drawing a whine from both of you. “God, you feel s-so good,” he stutters, his hand finding the back of your head to hold you sweetly against his chest. His eyes nearly roll back when you bat your lashes and look up at him innocently. “F-feel so pretty against me like this.”

He stares at how the soft fat of your pussy practically tugs his cock down, hugging it—a sloppy, messy sound resonating from between you. His eyes widen when you pull back, your thin hand moving down to part your pussy with two fingers, revealing the silky pink insides.

Flinching, his abdomen catches the stray droplets from between your damp, rocking bodies.

“Sun'—I want it inside.” You lie back fully, releasing his waist to hold your legs open, your arms hooked under your knees. Sunoo sucks in a sharp breath: never in his life has he seen something so fucking pretty. Your cheekbones catch the light, a blooming flush dusting the bridge of your nose and warming your skin. Your hair falls around you like a soft halo, framing your silhouette in a quiet glow.

“My sweet girl wants it inside?” He cups your face in his palm and presses a firm kisses to your temple, lingering there for a moment before nuzzling his nose into your hair and inhaling softly. One of your eyes squeeze shut at his affection, as you lean into it warmly. Your arms loosen where they’re wrapped around your legs, posture softening as you tip your face up to look at him. Your hands reach to run along his slim silhouette.

You quietly nod, biting back a smile. When he slides inside of you, your hands drag up to delicately wrap around his throat—his cock throbs are the pressure. Your back arches at the stretch.

It’s a cacophony of sweet depravity—each time he pulls his hips away, you draw him back with an open mouthed kiss. Everything’s damp. Heated— in a room full of pleasured sighs and slick skin. You feel his hand slide up your abdomen and hold your under-breast in his palm, tits bouncing erratically at the weight of his surprising force.

Small mumbles leave his mouth like a chant against your throat when the flesh is held between his teeth.

“So pretty.”

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Mine.”

The last one had you practically purring in his arms, pointing your breasts upward so he can latch on and mark them. A guiding hand grasps on the meat of your thighs to roll your hips on him manually.

Everything’s doused pink. Sunoo doesn’t even flinch when you squirt hard around him, only opting to fuck into you even harder.

Eventually, you’re on top of him with your hands pressing down on his throat—shaking on his cock after he fills you up for the third time. And another time, he’s saddled in your throat while his mouth works you into another orgasm.

Instinct takes over and memory gives way to an occasional blackness. If you pass out—you don’t pass out for long.

You don’t know how long it’s been. All you know is that your back is impossibly arched, tits pressed flat against the mattress, and that Sunoo’s fucking you hard enough that your head’s deliciously empty. Even the sides of your mouth are sore and raw from the amount of times Sunoo’s crammed himself down your throat until you cried. The sheets are soaked beyond repair and if you were in the right mind, you’d shriek at the almost… jammy texture.

Both your and Sunoo’s bodies are marred with bite marks, the skin flushed, red, and damp. His hips rolled against the soft flesh of your ass, rhythmically stretching your pussy—devastatingly entranced by the way you’re crying into your pillow, how your body seems to glow under the pink light of your room, and how the meat of your body shakes intensely every time he drove back down into you.

His own slick only aids how seamlessly he glides into you, nipple piercings rattling at his force. You drool a little when he shoves himself deep into your stomach, and you attempt to crawl away instinctively. Sunoo only grips onto your elbow and pulls your back flush against his chest, before sliding back in and fucking into you.

Your collars rattle in unison, soft moans painting the air. His skin is soft. Satin, despite the rough nature of his movements. And you couldn’t help the repetitive thought chanting in your head that you’ve never been with someone so beautiful before.

You piss around his cock the moment he prods at a particular spot, eyes rolling to the back of your head. On cue, he brushes your hair away from your neck, his fingers lingering for a breath before his teeth graze the soft skin at the back. He bites into the flesh mid-orgasm, abdomen caving and tensing as he whimpers against your skin.

Sunoo collapses, chest heaving, eyes squinting from the light peaking over the horizon.

It’s morning already. How long have you been going at it?

You tug on his arm until he settles beside you, then slink into his embrace as the two of you catch your breath. You brush your fingers through his hair—occasionally nipping at the skin of his neck.

His finger traces along your spine, thoughtful and slow, before he speaks.

“Can I be yours?”

You lift your head from his neck, your chin pressing against his chest as you stare up at him with tender eyes. Nervously, you toy with his collar, finding comfort in the soft, bell-like chime of the silver star–shaped charm.

Would he really be okay with you?

He stares at you, wide-eyed.

Shit—you hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Something steadies in him then. He fixes his gaze on yours and speaks softly. “I’m no Alpha. I won’t be the strongest guy in the room, and I probably enjoy getting beat up more than I enjoy throwing a punch—but I’ll keep you safe in the ways I know how. I’ll love you right, in all the ways Sunghoon or any other douchey Alpha didn’t.”

A bright giggle bubbles from your chest.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.”

Sunoo swoops down to steal your breath with a kiss—only pulling away when you’re on the brink of passing out again.

The two of you curl together like Siamese cats at the edge of the bleachers, either oblivious to—or deliberately ignoring—the stares from every direction. People gawk openly; the sight of two Omegas tangled up like this is a rarity.

You’re only here because Heeseung insisted. He’d dragged you both to his home game with a dramatic sigh and a vague gesture between you. “If I hadn’t been around,” he’d said, waving a hand at the two of you, “it wouldn’t have happened.”

At some point, Sunoo’s hands are on you—fingers digging into your waist, tongue warm against yours. The world dissolves into background noise. The roar of the crowd, the sharp whistle of plays, even the game itself fades away.

You don’t notice a thing—until a collective gasp ripples through the stands.

Out on the field, Park Sunghoon goes rigid, the ball still in his hands as he stares at the two of you kissing with reckless abandon. A split second later, he’s flattened beneath a brutal pile of incoming bodies.

Sunoo laughs against your mouth. “Serves him right,” he murmurs, stealing another indulgent kiss. “Maybe I should join the team too. Gives me an excuse to pull something like that.”

You giggle, nudging your nose against his. “Only if you play nicely.”

In the distance, Sunghoon lets out one long, pained groan—and you can’t help but think life has never felt more right.

fin.

The air smells like ramen and cigarette smoke. You’re leaned against the wall of a 7-Eleven, half-listening to Kota and Haru bicker over who should’ve driven tonight. Niki’s here too, off to the side in a black hoodie, dark baggy jeans, Chrome Hearts rings clinking quietly as he messes with his lighter. He hasn’t looked at you once. He never does anymore. Not really. Still, you always end up here. With them. You’re not in the gang, not officially, but they let you hang around. And he never tells you to leave. “You want anything?” Kota calls from the door. You shake your head, sipping from a half-warm ice tea. “I’m good.” you said.“Course she is,” Niki mutters, voice low but sharp, “Wouldn’t want her to actually pay for anything.” You blink. Your grip on the can tightens, and the other two go quiet. You glance at him. He’s still not looking at you, just stands there, calm and careless like he didn’t just humiliate you in front of your friends.

“You’re such a fucking asshole sometimes.” you whisper. He hears that, and finally looks up. “What was that?” he snaps. His eyes are cold. Hard. The kind that don’t let you lie to yourself anymore. “I said you’re an asshole.” You don’t yell it. You don’t scream. But the hurt in your voice betrays you. Niki straightens up, tossing the lighter into his pocket. “Then why the fuck are you still here? You think you matter? You’re just a dumb girl who can’t take a joke. No one asked you to hang around.” The words land heavy. Cruel. You weren’t expecting them to hit that deep. You feel your throat tighten, breath catching before you can stop it. The burn behind your eyes shows up before you can blink it away. You turn and walk. And this time, you cry before you even get around the corner.

The second you’re gone, the silence feels heavier. Even the usual buzz of Tokyo traffic sounds muted in the air between them. Kota kicks at the pavement. Haru lights another cigarette. Nobody says anything for a moment. Niki stays where he is—still, jaw clenched, gaze fixed on the spot where you disappeared. He’s good at acting like nothing touches him. But tonight, he doesn’t move fast enough. “…Bro,” Haru says eventually, “You seriously went too far.” Niki scoffs, trying to brush it off. “She’s too fucking sensitive.” he says. “She cried, man.” He snaps, “She always cries” sharper than before. “That’s her thing. She plays sweet and innocent and everyone’s supposed to feel bad for her.” Kota cuts in, “You think she plays that shit?”, stepping forward now. “She’s been around for years, Niki. She’s seen us come home half-dead and still stuck around. You think that’s for fun?” Niki doesn’t answer.

His hands are shoved deep into his hoodie pockets now, rings cold against his knuckles. His jaw is locked tight, lips pressed into a hard line. But he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say you’re just another girl. Because you aren’t. You never fucking were. He remembers the way your voice cracked. Remembers the way you didn’t yell—just… broke. Quiet and honest. It felt different this time. It felt real. And now you’re out there, alone. Not in their part of town. Dangerous streets. Drunk men. Rival crews. People who don’t ask questions before they hurt. “…Shit.” He pushes off the wall, already walking. “Where you going?” Kota calls after him. He doesn’t answer, just pulls his hood up and disappears into the night.

You didn’t go far. He finds you a few blocks down, sitting on a low concrete barrier near an old vending machine. The neon glow hums beside you, too bright for how you feel. Your head’s down, arms wrapped tight around yourself, your drink still in your hand, barely touched. You don’t hear him right away. But he’s there, a few feet away, watching. “You done sulking?” he says, voice low. You flinch. You don’t look up. Typical. Cold. Detached. Like nothing he said back there meant shit. Like you didn’t cry over him—for him. He exhales through his nose, then shifts his weight like he’s uncomfortable standing still. “Didn’t mean to piss you off that bad.” It’s not an apology, not really, but for Niki—it’s something. It’s more than you’ve ever gotten before. You stay quiet, lips pressed together, eyes locked on the pavement. “…Come on,” he mutters.

“I’ll drive you home.” You finally glance up. He’s not looking at you. Just standing there in his hoodie, earrings catching the light as he fidgets with his lighter again. “Why do you care?” you ask, voice hoarse from holding back tears. That makes him freeze. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, then, quietly, “Don’t.” Just that. Just one word. Like if he says more, he’ll give himself away.“…Get on the bike before someone else finds you out here.” You stare at him for another second. You could say no. You should say no. But you don’t. And the way his voice sounded, just a little softer, a little unsure, it makes your chest twist. You stand up and walk past him without a word. He falls into step behind you.

The ride is silent. You sit behind him on the bike, arms wrapped around his waist, the heat of his body cutting through the wind that rushes past. Tokyo blurs around you, neon lights, empty streets, the occasional honk of a taxi, but you don’t say anything. Neither does he. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. You don’t ask why he came after you. You just hold on, and he lets you. When he pulls up outside your building, he kills the engine but doesn’t move right away. His hands stay on the handlebars, head tilted down like he’s thinking, like he wants to say something. But whatever it is, he swallows it. You swing your leg off the bike, your feet hitting the pavement softly. “Thanks,” you murmur, voice low. He nods once, almost like a reflex. Then he’s gone—engine growling back to life, black hoodie catching the wind as he disappears down the street without another word. You watch him until the sound fades. Then you turn and head inside.

The three of them are outside the konbini again—same corner, same neon lights humming in the humid Tokyo air. You spot them as you round the corner, your phone clutched in one hand, your other hand adjusting the soft curls falling over your shoulders. Your dress clings to your frame just right—pretty, delicate, way too innocent for this part of town. Kota looks up first and lets out a low whistle. “Damn. You look good tonight.” Haru grins beside him, nudging your arm as you approach. “You gonna break hearts tonight?” You smile shyly. “Shut up.” They laugh, but Niki—leaned against the wall in his usual black hoodie and silver jewellery—lifts his head slowly. Eyes narrowing just slightly. “For what?” You pause. Kota throws him a look. “Bro. She’s got a date tonight. You didn’t know?”

Niki’s gaze flickers to you again, this time longer, sharper. You can’t read him. “Tch. Hope he likes fake bitches.” The words hit harder than they should. You blink. Your smile fades. Kota stiffens. “The fuck, man? She looks good. Say something nice for once.” But Niki doesn’t say anything else. Just flicks open his lighter, jaw tight, like he’d rather set the whole street on fire than admit he cares. You try not to let it show. Try not to look at him again. “I’ll see you guys later,” you mumble. They both nod. “Text us when you get home safe, yeah?” You nod back, and walk off. You don’t see the way Niki watches you disappear down the street. But the boys do.

You’re five minutes early when you get to the meeting spot—an empty side street near the arcade, lit only by a single flickering streetlight. The guy said to meet him here, but it already feels wrong. And then, before you can react, you’re shoved hard against the wall. “Took you long enough,” a voice sneers in your ear. You turn, heart leaping into your throat. It’s him. But he’s not alone. Four others step out from behind the dumpster and across the street, all wearing the same jacket patch—the symbol of a rival gang you’ve heard Haru mention before. They don’t look friendly. “She’s pretty,” one of them laughs. “Too pretty to be that dumb.” “You thought he actually wanted to date you?” Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

One of them grabs your chin roughly, tilting your face up. “Pathetic. You think hanging around them makes you untouchable?” You flinch. And then a hand strikes your face—sharp, loud, your head snapping to the side. Tears blur your vision immediately. You choke on a breath. “A little crybaby, huh? Bet you act all high and mighty around them, but one slap and you’re falling apart.” You shake your head, trembling. “Please, I—” Another one grabs your wrist. They’re surrounding you now. You’re not strong enough. You’re not fast enough. But then, someone yells. “Get your fucking hands off her.” The voice hits like a bullet. You barely turn your head before everything explodes. Niki’s fist connects with the closest guy’s jaw so fast you don’t even see it wind up. The guy drops, knocked cold before he hits the ground. Kota’s already grabbed the one holding your wrist and slams him into the brick wall. Haru drives his knee into someone’s ribs, the crack audible. Niki’s on fire—pure rage, silent and deadly. He doesn’t speak again. He doesn’t need to. Every hit is precise, brutal, merciless. He moves like he’s been waiting for an excuse to do this. Like hurting you was the one thing they never should’ve done. In less than a minute, all five are down. Breathing, but barely.

Your back is still to the wall, your legs too shaky to move. Your eyes sting from crying, your cheek throbs from the slap, and your hands tremble even as you try to hide it.Niki turns on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?” You flinch. He steps closer, shoulders tense, breathing hard, voice sharp. “You went on a date with him? With that guy? He’s our enemy, are you fucking stupid?” he yells. “Niki—” Kota starts, but Niki cuts him off. “You could’ve gotten kidnapped. Or worse. And for what? You wanted to play dress-up and feel special?”Your throat tightens. You shake your head. “I didn’t know—” He grabs your arm. “You never know,” he spits. “You just do whatever you want and expect us to clean it up after. You always cause trouble—” “Niki!” Haru snaps. “Stop.” But he doesn’t. His grip tightens on your arm, fingers digging into your skin, he doesn’t even realize how hard he’s holding you.

“You think this is a fucking game? You could’ve died tonight—” “Let go,” you say, voice cracking. He doesn’t. “Niki, you’re hurting me.” That stops him.His eyes widen slightly, his grip loosens instantly—but not before you both notice the way your skin’s already turning red under his fingers. A bruise, forming fast. He pulls his hand back like it burned him. Stares at it. Then at you. And for the first time tonight, he looks shaken. “Shit.” He steps back, jaw clenched, turning away like he can’t look at you anymore. Kota steps between you, checking your arm gently, his voice low. “You alright?”You nod, even though you’re not. Haru glares at Niki. “What the hell is wrong with you?” But Niki doesn’t answer. He just stands there, fists balled at his sides, breathing hard, like he wants to scream or punch a wall or run. And you don’t know what hurts more, the bruise on your arm or the one he left in your chest.

You don’t show up for three days. No konbini hangouts. No rooftop meetups. No texts. Not even the occasional check-in that used to be your excuse to be near Niki. You needed space. After that night—his grip bruising your arm, the way he yelled at you like it was your fault—you just couldn’t be near him, not yet. Not until the sting faded from your chest. You ignore the texts from Kota.

yo you good? haven’t seen you in a while.

u mad at us or just him lol.

You answer the next day.

i’m ok just busy

It’s a lie. But it’s better that way.

Meanwhile, he notices. Niki doesn’t say anything to the others. But the second day you’re gone, he’s not himself. More silent than usual, more pissed off in fights, more reckless with his hits, like he’s looking to get hurt on purpose. He asks once, when Kota lights a cig, “She stop coming around or something?” Kota shrugs. “Guess she’s just laying low.” Niki doesn’t respond. But that night, when he gets home with blood dried on his knuckles, he scrolls through his contacts with his jaw clenched. He doesn’t message you. Just looks at your name and locks his phone. A few days later, you run into Haru. You see him outside a small café, squatting on the curb and sipping on a can of pepsi. His eyes widen when he sees you walking past. “Yo. Look who decided to come out.” You laugh quietly. “I’m not hiding.” “You kinda are.” You sit beside him on the curb. The street’s calm here—no tension, no fights, no Niki. Haru eyes you sideways. “He’s been acting weird, y’know.”You glance down at your hands. “He’s always weird.” you say. “Nah. Not like that.” He shifts, lowers his voice. “He’s been picking fights like crazy.” Your chest tightens. You want to say it’s not your fault, but part of you knows it is. “…I needed space,” you murmur. Haru doesn’t push. Just nods and finishes his pepsi. “You still part of this, though, right?” You pause. Then nod once. “Yeah.” That night, your phone buzzes. A text from Niki. “u done being dramatic or what” You stare at the message for a long time, but you don’t answer. You go to sleep instead.

It’s Haru who convinces you. He texts you that afternoon, casual but insistent.

come out tonight. we’ll be at the rooftop.

niki probably won’t even be there, tbh.

You know it’s a lie, but you show up anyway. It’s not because of Niki. It’s because Haru and Kota still feel like home. The rooftop is quiet when you get there—soft wind, the smell of sea air drifting in from the water. The boys are already lounging on the cracked concrete, passing around a half-empty bottle of beer and laughing about something stupid. You climb over the railing and land softly, brushing your skirt down. Kota sees you first. “Ayy, look who showed.”“Bout time,” Haru adds, already scooting over to make room. You smile a little, “Miss me that much?” you say. “Nah,” Haru grins. “We just needed someone to bring snacks.” You drop a small bag of chips and drinks in front of them. The boys cheer, and then you hear it. Footsteps behind you. Your heart sinks. You don’t even have to turn around, you already know. Niki’s here. He walks past you without a word, dropping down beside Kota like it’s nothing. Designer jeans, Chrome Hearts rings gleaming on his fingers as he lights a cigarette, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. But the tension wraps around your neck like a wire.

You sit a little farther away than usual. Not close enough to be part of the group, not far enough to be unseen. Haru keeps talking, telling a story about some dumb fight Niki and Kota got into the other night—something about a baseball bat and a broken vending machine. You nod along, laugh when you’re supposed to, but your body is tight. You can feel Niki’s presence like heat on your skin. Every shift of his leg, every flick of his lighter. He still hasn’t said a word. Eventually, Kota offers you a drink. You shake your head. “I should head out soon.” Kota frowns. “You just got here.” he says. “I’ve got stuff to do.” You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. That’s when Niki finally speaks. His voice is low, sharp. “You really gonna act like I’m the only one who fucked up?” Your breath catches, the rooftop falls silent. Haru mutters under his breath, “Bro…” You turn slowly to face him. He’s leaning back against the wall, cigarette between his lips, one brow raised like he’s waiting, daring you to say something. You step closer, just enough for him to see your face clearly. “I never laid hands on you.” He freezes. The cigarette burns down between his fingers. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Kota and Haru exchange a glance, quiet and awkward. You shake your head, heart pounding, and step back toward the railing. “Don’t worry, Niki. I won’t cause you any more trouble.” You climb down from the rooftop without another word. That night, he doesn’t text you, but he doesn’t sleep either.

It starts raining right as you turn the corner toward the train station. It’s a cold, heavy rain that soaks straight through your clothes in seconds. You don’t have an umbrella, you didn’t check the forecast. And now, water clings to your lashes, your shoes are slipping on the pavement, and your bag is starting to leak through. You keep walking anyway. You’ve already been avoiding Niki for days, and this walk home—this soaking, miserable walk—is still better than being close to him right now. But of course. The low purr of an engine hums from behind you. You don’t turn around, you don’t have to. You know that sound by now—his stupid expensive motorcycle cutting through the street like it owns the night. The engine slows and he matches your pace, trailing you. Still, you don’t look at him. You grip your bag tighter, fingers trembling, rain dripping off your chin. “Get on.” His voice is calm, but the growl in it is unmistakable. You bite the inside of your cheek and keep walking.

He lets out a small breath—like he’s tired of you already. “I said get on.” he repeats, a little louder. You turn finally, arms crossed, soaked to the skin. “I’m fine.” He glances at your wet hair, your shivering shoulders, the way your lips are already starting to turn pale. “You’re not,” he mutters. “I don’t need your help.” He kicks his foot down on the kickstand and climbs off the bike, standing in front of it now. Water drips off his Denim Tears hoodie, silver jewelry gleaming like it’s untouched by the storm. He takes off the hoodie without a word and holds it out to you. A plain white t-shirt underneath. You don’t move. You just stare at it. He doesn’t drop his arm, still waiting, still offering it—stupidly, stubbornly—like this one act of kindness could erase all the times he made you cry. “You’re gonna get sick,” he mumbles. You don’t answer, but your fingers twitch, and finally, you reach out and take the hoodie. It’s warm, soft on the inside. Smells like something expensive and a little like smoke. And him. He gets back on the bike without saying anything else.

The rain’s still pouring as you climb on behind him. It takes you a second, like your body forgot what it feels like to be this close to him again. You hesitate, then rest your hands lightly on his sides, just enough to stay on. The moment your fingers touch him, you feel it. The tension. He doesn’t speak until the bike starts moving. The ride is short, but it feels so long. You feel his body in front of you—solid, warm even in the cold, rain sliding off his helmet and hitting your cheeks. The wind presses your chest against his back, but your hands never move from his sides. You wish you weren’t so aware of him. But you are. You always are. When he finally stops near your building, he doesn’t get off the bike right away. He sits there for a second, hands tightening on the handles. You sit there too, silent, heart pounding. Then, so quiet you almost miss it, “Why do you always look at me like that…even after everything?” Your breath catches. You blink, raindrops slipping into your lashes. “…What?” He still doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead.

“Like I’m not the one who hurt you.” His voice is low, tired. Not mean, just real. Maybe more real than you’ve ever heard it. “Like I’m not the reason you cried last week. Like I didn’t leave bruises on your arm. Like I didn’t scare the hell out of you.” You open your mouth, but no words come out. He finally turns his head and looks at you over his shoulder. “Why do you still look at me like you love me?” That breaks you. Your throat tightens, your lips tremble, and you hate him—you hate him for saying it, for noticing, for pretending like he’s the victim in all this. You don’t answer. Instead, you slide off the bike. You take off his hoodie and toss it into his lap without looking at him. “Thanks for the ride.” you murmur. He watches you go, doesn’t stop you. He just sits there in the rain, dripping wet, clutching his hoodie like it’s the only proof you were ever there.

You didn’t know about the fight. They made sure of that—Haru, Kota, even Niki. Nobody said a word. You would’ve begged them not to go. You would’ve shown up and gotten hurt. And that was the last thing they wanted. But war doesn’t wait for anyone. It happens fast—midnight, in the middle of an abandoned lot on the edge of Tokyo. Concrete and metal. Shadows and fists. One hundred against one hundred. No rules. No mercy. No room to breathe. The rival gang brought brass knuckles, knives, steel rods. But Niki—he had something personal. He finds him in the chaos, the one who laid hands on you. And everything in him snaps. “You think you can touch her?”Niki grabs him by the collar, slamming him into the ground so hard his head bounces off the dirt. “You think you can fucking touch her and walk away?” The guy spits blood, tries to crawl back, but Niki shoves him down with his foot to the chest.

“If you even look at her again, I’ll cut your fucking dick off and feed it to you.” He’s seething. Blind. And that’s when it happens. Behind him, another guy, face half-covered, something glinting in his hand. Haru sees it. Too far. Kota turns. Too late. The blade sinks deep under Niki’s ribs. His breath punches out of him. He stumbles back, hands instantly red, drops to his knees, then the ground. “Niki!” Haru and Kota tear through the swarm, fists flying, feet kicking, rage spilling out of their throats. They get to him, one on each side, grabbing his arms and pulling him away. “Fuck—fuck—fuck, stay awake, bro—” Haru’s voice is shaking as he drags him behind a crumbling wall. Kota presses both hands hard on the bleeding wound. “Call an ambulance.” Haru says.“No.” Niki’s voice is weak. “No cops. No hospital.” Kota hesitates. Then, he calls you. You almost don’t pick up since It’s late and you’re still pissed from earlier. But when you see Kota’s name flash on your screen, something clenches in your stomach. “Hello?” His voice is strained. “Don’t panic. Just listen. There was a fight. A big one. Niki—he got stabbed.” The words barely register.“What?” you say. “It’s bad,” he responds. “He’s alive, but—fuck, I didn’t know who else to call.” The phone drops from your hand.

Your legs move before your brain catches up. You’re out the door, running as fast as you can. You find them behind a rusted shipping container on the edge of the lot. The fight still rages somewhere nearby—screams, grunts, fists on flesh. But all you see is him. Niki. On the ground. Pale, breathing shallow, blood soaking the hem of his shirt, pooling in his hands. “Oh my god—Niki—” You drop to your knees beside him, already tugging open your bag for the bandages you brought on instinct. Your fingers are shaking too much to tear open the antiseptic. “You shouldn’t be here.” he rasps. You ignore him. You press a cloth to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but your hands are slippery. You’re crying so hard you can’t see straight. “I thought—I thought I was gonna lose you.” you choke. Kota puts a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll go. You stay with him. If he gets worse—”“He won’t.” Your voice cracks, but you say it again, louder. “He won’t. Go. Fight. Win. Just—go.” They nod and disappear into the smoke and screams. And then it’s just you and Niki, and your hands on his chest, and the weight of every second you never told him how much he meant to you. You clean the wound. You press a bandage to his skin.“You stupid asshole,” you whisper. “You always do this. You always make me care too much.” He tries to speak, but stop him.“Don’t say anything. Just stay awake. Please.”

The blood won’t stop. Not completely. You’ve pressed down with everything—cloth, bandage, your shaking hands—but it still seeps through in slow, angry pulses. And Niki’s skin is cold now. Too cold. “Stay awake,” you whisper again, voice cracked and hoarse. “Please—please, don’t do this to me.” You’re bent over him, forehead nearly touching his chest, your hands clenched into his bloodstained shirt like you can hold his soul in place if you just try hard enough. And then he coughs. His body jerks. Your entire chest caves in. “No—no, no—Niki—please—!” You burst into tears. No more holding back. No more trying to be strong. You’re sobbing, fists pounding weakly against him. “Why would you do this?! Why would you go without telling me?! I can’t—I can’t lose you—!” Your voice breaks into silence, shoulders trembling. And then, his hand moves. Calloused fingers rise slowly, wobbling, clumsy, and cup your cheek. Blood smears across your skin. Your breath catches. “Niki…?” His eyes flutter open, barely. He stares at you like he’s never seen you before. Like he can’t believe you’re real. Then—suddenly, without warning—he grips the back of your head and pulls you down. And crashes his mouth onto yours. It’s messy. Desperate. His lips are cracked. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth. But none of it matters because he’s kissing you. He’s fucking kissing you like he’s about to die and needs one last taste of heaven.

You freeze, just for a moment. Then your hands fly to his jaw, holding him, grounding him, pressing back just as hard. You pour everything into the kiss—your love, your anger, your terror. Your tears slide down your cheeks and onto his face, mixing with his own. When he finally pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours. “Why do you always look at me like that…even after everything?” The same question again. His voice is barely a whisper. He sounds wrecked, broken, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. “Because I’m in love with you,” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I’ve always been in love with you.” He closes his eyes. His chest rises, shaky. “Fuck.” He sounds like he’s in pain, but not from the wound. “You’re gonna be okay,” you say quickly, brushing the hair out of his face. “I’m gonna take care of you. Just stay with me, okay? Stay awake.” But he’s already slipping. His grip on your neck loosens. “Niki—hey—don’t you dare—” You shake him gently, panic flooding your veins again. And he opens his eyes one last time. “If I die, I want it to be after kissing you.” Your heart cracks in two.

Haru arrives breathless, skidding to your side with scraped knuckles and blood on his nose. “We have to move him.” he says urgently, glancing at Niki’s still-bleeding side. You nod, wiping your face quickly. Together, you carry him—arms locked under his shoulders and legs, trying not to jostle the wound too much. He groans once in his unconscious haze, but doesn’t wake. Every sound he makes tears through you. You get him into his apartment—dark, silent, untouched. Haru lays him down on the bed, and helps you wrap new bandages around Niki’s waist. “I have to go back,” he mutters, already heading for the door. “We’re not done yet. You—stay with him, alright?” You nod wordlessly, and the door closes behind him. Silence. You’re left in the dim bedroom, lit only by the streetlight bleeding in through the blinds. You sit down on the floor beside the bed, too numb to move. Your arms rest on the edge of the mattress, your forehead pressed against the comforter. The smell of blood clings to everything, your throat burns from crying. You don’t even know how long you sit like that—sniffling, occasionally hiccuping from how hard you sobbed earlier. Could be an hour now. Just listening to the faint sound of Niki breathing. Then—“…Y/n?”His voice is hoarse, soft, barely audible.

Your heart lurches. “Niki—” you gasp, sitting up instantly. His hand shoots out, seizing your wrist with surprising strength. You freeze, staring at him. He’s pale. Sweat clings to his skin. But his eyes are locked on you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear. And before you can say a word, he pulls you forward—hard—and you stumble, falling onto the mattress. Right on top of him. Your hands land on either side of his shoulders, and you’re suddenly straddling his lap, eyes wide. “Niki—I’m gonna hurt you—what are you doing—?” But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he sits up just enough to crush his mouth against yours again. This kiss is messier. More desperate. There’s no caution, no pause. His hands curl around your back, dragging you down onto his chest like he needs you closer.

He kisses you like he’s been starving for you his entire life. When he finally pulls away, his forehead stays pressed against yours. “I thought I was gonna die tonight.” You shake your head, eyes shining again. “Don’t say that—”But he cuts you off. “And all I could think about was you.” Your breath catches. His hand cups your cheek. His thumb brushes a tear away. “The way you looked at me back there—like I was worth something. Like you loved me even when I didn’t deserve it.” His gaze burns into yours. You don’t answer right away. You just hold his face in your hands, brushing his hair back as if touching him will somehow ground you both. “I can’t lose you,” you whisper. “You won’t,” he murmurs. “Not ever. I’m yours.” His lips ghost over your jaw, your cheek, your mouth again. His voice is low. Possessive. But it’s not cruel like the other times. Not careless. It’s the voice of a boy who’s loved you in silence for too long. A boy who almost died without ever telling you.

He kisses you hard—like he’s trying to claim every breath you have left. His hand slides up, fingers curling lightly around your throat, just enough for you to feel him. To know he’s there, even after everything. Your breath catches. His lips part from yours, just barely. And then he says it. “I love you.” Your eyes go wide. You don’t move, don’t speak. You just stare at him, stunned, as your heart slams against your ribs. You’d imagined him saying those words before—maybe, in some perfect version of the future where things weren’t so bloody, so dangerous. Where you weren’t crying in his bed with his blood on your shirt. But never like this. Never with his hand around your throat. Never when you could still feel the echo of his near-death between you. Your lip quivers and your eyes flood with tears again. He watches them fall with a slight smile. “Why are you crying, baby?” he whispers, voice rough. You shake your head, unable to speak. “You didn’t know?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss beneath your eye. “You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since high school.”

He kisses you again, harder this time. Less hesitation. More hunger. His hands slide down your body—fingers gripping your waist, then curving lower until they’re full on your ass, squeezing hard. You gasp against his mouth, and he groans, like he’s been waiting years just to hear that sound. “You’ve always looked at me like I mattered,” he mutters against your lips. “Even when I treated you like shit. Even when I pushed you away.” Another kiss—open-mouthed, searing. “You never stopped looking at me like that.” You barely manage to whisper, breathless, “Because I love you Niki…So much.” That breaks him. He groans low in his throat and kisses you with everything—years of repressed desire, years of silent love, the terror of almost losing you tonight. His hands grip your hips like he’s grounding himself. You feel his body under you—still trembling slightly, still recovering—but it doesn’t stop him from pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss again and again until it feels like you’re sinking into him.

He sits up more in bed, wincing slightly from the wound, but he doesn’t stop. Not for a second. You’re still straddling him, your thighs clamped around his hips, your hands tangled in his hair as he drags you closer, chest to chest, lips crashing against yours again and again. You try to pull back, panting. “Niki—your wound, I’m gonna hurt you like this—” you whisper. “I don’t fucking care.” he growls, voice wrecked, hand sliding back to your throat as he kisses you like he’s starving. Your gasp gets swallowed in his mouth. He pulls you down harder onto his lap, his grip on your hips tightening as he grinds you slowly against his crotch. You can already feel him—half-hard and growing harder by the second beneath the thin fabric of his sweats. The slow drag of your body on his has him groaning into your mouth, hips twitching upward to meet your movement. His lips break from yours only to trail down to your jaw, then your neck—hot, open-mouthed kisses, wet and messy. He sucks a mark just under your ear, then another lower, his breath shaky and fast.

“Always wanted to do this…” he mutters, biting down lightly on your collarbone. You shiver. His fingers dig into your skin. His mouth reaches the bruise on your arm—the one he gave you earlier when he lost control. He slows down. His lips press gently against the purple bloom on your skin, a soft, almost reverent kiss. You look down at him, startled by the shift, by the sudden tenderness in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your arm. “For this. For everything.” But before you can answer, his hands move again—back to your hips, dragging you against him with more pressure now. His cock is fully hard beneath you, straining up into your heat through your thin panties and his sweats, and the friction is dizzying. “You feel what you do to me?” he rasps, voice low and filthy, breath hot on your skin. “You’ve been driving me crazy for years.”

He’s rocking your hips on his lap, forcing you to feel every inch of him beneath you—how hard he is, how desperate. “Say you want this,” he whispers against your throat. “Say you want me.” And all you can do is nod, dizzy with how good it feels, how real this is. “I want you, Niki,” you breathe. Then—his lips ghost over your ear, voice deep and raspy. “Good girl,” he whispers. You let out the softest, shuddering whimper. Your panties instantly getting wetter. Your whole body reacts—your spine arching slightly, your thighs squeezing tighter around his hips. He must feel it, how much that did to you, because he slips his hands beneath your shirt. You gasp as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach, rough fingertips dragging slowly up your soft sides. He explores you with a kind of reverence, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin, feeling every inch like he’s memorizing it.

His lips never stop, kissing, biting, breathing you in like he’s addicted. And then, you guide him. You take his wrists gently, and with trembling fingers, you lift his hands and press them to your chest, right over your tits. You swear he stops breathing for a second. “Fuck…” he whispers, voice wrecked. His palms cover you completely, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He squeezes lightly, groaning into your mouth when you whimper at the contact. Your body jolts forward, grinding down again, right over the thick bulge straining in his sweats. The pressure on your clit makes your head drop back, eyes fluttering shut. “You have no idea,” he pants, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.” Then his mouth is on yours again—hot, messy, and deep—while his hands slide under your shirt fully, thumbs circling your nipples now, teasing you. “Take this off.” he commands, tugging at the hem of your shirt, already desperate to see more of you.

You lift your shirt over your head with shaky hands, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling with every breath. The second your bare skin is exposed, Niki’s eyes darken. He doesn’t even give you time to think. His hands fly to your waist, holding you still on his lap as he leans in—mouth latching onto your nipple like he’s starved. “Niki—” you gasp, your head tipping back. His tongue swirls around your sensitive peak, sucking hard, his teeth scraping just enough to make your hips jolt in his lap. You grind down by instinct, moaning when his dick presses right into your clit again. He groans against your skin. “So fucking soft…” he breathes, hot and low, his voice muffled as he kisses down the curve of your breast. Then his mouth moves to the other—sucking even harder, switching between gentle licks and rough sucks that make you writhe in his grip. He starts leaving hickies everywhere—on the undersides of your tits, in the dip between them, over the swell of them and down to your ribs.

Each kiss is messier than the last, wet and open-mouthed, his tongue dragging along your skin as he claims you over and over.“Mine…” he mutters darkly, almost to himself, between kisses. “Mine.” His hands squeeze your ass, pushing you harder against his cock as he sucks another mark right above your nipple. You cry out softly, your body already feeling too hot, too sensitive. Your fingers tremble as they reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging gently. Niki pulls back just enough to glance down at your hands, then up at your face—your lip caught between your teeth, eyes wide with something between desperation and awe. Without saying a word, he leans back slightly and yanks the shirt over his head with one swift pull. Your breath catches. His chest rises and falls steadily, faint scars slashing across his muscles—some old and faded, some fresher, still healing. His abs are hard and flexed beneath his shallow breaths, and thin lines mark his skin. And you just want to worship every inch of it.

Your hands move slowly, palms ghosting over the rigid lines of his abdomen, scared to hurt him but unable to stop yourself. His stomach twitches under your touch. His eyes never leave you. Then, barely breathing, you lean in, pressing one innocent kiss to the side of his neck, lips soft and sweet against skin still tasting faintly of blood and sweat. He exhales hard through his nose. You pull back just slightly, breath catching in your throat, lips swollen from his kisses and heart thudding hard in your chest. Your eyes lift to meet his—soft, doe-eyed, and full of adoration. That look makes something snap in him. His hand shoots up to grip your jaw firmly, tilting your face toward his. “You’re so fucking cute.” he growls, voice low as his eyes drink you in like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Then he kisses you again, rough and desperate, tongue sliding past your lips as he drags you back onto him like he can’t get enough. His hands drop to your hips, gripping them tightly before slipping lower, fingers sliding beneath the hem of your little skirt.

He palms your ass through your panties, groaning into your mouth when he feels how soft you are under his touch. “Fuck.” he mutters against your lips. “Wearing this tiny skirt around me all the time…you don’t even know what that does to me.” You whimper, hands clutching at his shoulders as he tugs at your panties, snapping the waistband slightly against your skin. And then he moves. One hand snakes around to the front, fingers slipping between your thighs until they press against your clothed clit—slow, teasing pressure that makes your breath hitch. “You’re already wet,” he smirks against your ear. “So fucking needy for me…” You try to hide your face in his neck, embarrassed, but he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your jaw, holding you in place, forcing you to look at him while he toys with you. “Look at me.” he says, voice harder now. “Don’t go all shy now, baby. You’re the one grinding on my dick like that.” His fingers rub small, slow circles through the damp fabric, watching your expression with dark, hungry eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face against the side of his head as you tremble slightly, overwhelmed by the feel of his fingers teasing your clit and the heavy weight of his eyes on you.“Need you…please.” you whisper. So soft, so broken, like you’ll fall apart if he doesn’t touch you properly. And it breaks him. A sharp breath leaves his chest. His hand tightens on your hip like he’s trying not to lose control. “Fuck…” Without another word, he shoves your panties aside, his fingers slipping between your folds to finally feel just how soaked you are. “You’re dripping.” he mutters, almost like he can’t believe it. His fingers glide through your slick slowly, spreading it, feeling every little tremble of your body against him. “All this for me?” Your only answer is a needy whimper, your hips bucking forward instinctively, grinding against his fingers. “You want me to fuck you this bad?” he groans, mouth right next to your ear. “You’re this fucking wet just from kissing me?”

He cups your pussy fully, rubbing his fingers through your folds, teasing your entrance but not giving you what you need just yet. He’s savoring it—how soft and sweet and desperate you are for him. “Say it again.”You gasp softly, barely able to breathe as you clutch onto him. “Please…Niki, need you…” And suddenly his fingers sink into you. Two long fingers push past your soaked entrance and fill you up slowly, the stretch making you gasp out his name, clinging tighter to his neck. He curses again, watching your face the entire time, loving how you fall apart so easily for him. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Good fucking girl. Taking me so well already…” His free hand stays on your waist, keeping you still as he fucks his fingers into you, slow and deep, curling them to find every sensitive spot inside you.

You kiss him again desperately, lips parted, soft little whimpers spilling into his mouth as your hips begin rocking on their own, grinding down on his fingers. He groans into the kiss, one hand tightening in your hair while the other stays buried inside you, letting you use him however you need. “That’s it,” he mutters between kisses. “Ride my fingers, baby. Just like that.” Your hips move on instinct—slow, needy rolls against his hand, chasing the friction as the heel of his palm rubs perfectly against your clit with every motion. He watches you with that dark, hungry look in his eyes, his chest rising and falling under you as he leans back slightly to take it all in. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice low and strained, “Making a mess on my hand…fuck.” Your whimpers grow louder as you keep grinding on his fingers, your lips brushing against his, breath shaky, thighs trembling. “Niki… I— I can’t…” You’re close, and he knows it. He can feel it in the way your walls clench, the way your body shakes in his lap, how you moan his name so helplessly. He leans in again, voice sharp and possessive against your ear. “Don’t hold back.” And then his thumb presses harder against your clit, just the way you need it, as his fingers curl inside you deep and slow. “Cum for me, angel.”

Your body jerks, head falling against his shoulder as the orgasm rips through you, hot and dizzying. Your pussy clenches around his fingers as you cry out softly into his neck. He holds you through it, his lips brushing your cheek and ear. “That’s it… that’s my good girl… fuck, you’re so sweet when you cum.” Your breaths come out ragged as you slump against him, your thighs shaking, heart pounding against your ribs. But then, slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, slick and glistening, and brings them up to your lips. “Open.” You obey without thinking, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking them clean, soft moans escaping your throat as your tongue swirls around the taste of yourself. His eyes darken watching you. “My dirty girl.” He kisses you again, messy and wet, the taste of your arousal on both your tongues. As he deepens it, your hips roll again—unconsciously grinding your bare, oversensitive cunt against the hard bulge in his sweats. You whimper into his mouth at the friction, overwhelmed but needing more.

Your fingers trail down, hesitant but aching for him, until your hand finally lands on his bulge. You palm him softly, feeling the heavy weight of him under your hand, and he groans—low and guttural, hips jerking up into your touch. “Fuck, baby.” He pulls back from the kiss to look at you, chest heaving, his hand still resting on your waist, thumb brushing your skin. You look up at him with wide, tear-glossed eyes, lips swollen, still panting. He leans in closer, mouth grazing just beneath your ear, voice low but gentle. “You want my dick, pretty girl? Hm?” Your breath catches and you nod quickly, eager, needy, eyes wide and full of want. He hums, clearly pleased, and presses a warm kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Good.” Then you feel his hands move between you, slowly tugging the waistband of his sweats and boxers down his hips. Your eyes trail lower instinctively and your breath catches again when his cock finally springs free—big, thick, flushed pink at the tip, so heavy it rests against his lower stomach for a second before falling against his thigh. You can’t help it, your lips part a little in awe. He’s so pretty it almost makes your head spin.

Your hands slipped down to your hips, and with a soft breath, you slid your panties down your thighs and tossed them aside. One of his hands stayed firm on your hip, grounding you. The other wrapped around himself, and he rubbed his tip along your folds, slow and teasing. You whimpered, already so sensitive, your thighs twitching from the contact. “Niki!” you whispered, clinging to his shoulders, your voice trembling. He smirked softly and locked eyes with you as he lined himself up. “Breathe, baby.” he said, voice low. And then he slowly pushed in. You gasped, burying your face in his neck as he stretched you open inch by inch. His grip on your waist tightened protectively, fingers digging into your skin. Your breath hitched with every inch, your thighs shaking around him, but he didn’t rush. Just deep, slow, patient movements, wanting you to feel everything.

When he bottomed out, he let out a soft groan, forehead resting against yours. You were so full, so warm around him, it made his head spin. He stayed there for a second, just breathing, letting you adjust. “You okay?” he asked, quieter now, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. His tone was raw, barely hiding the emotion underneath. You nodded, shaky. “Y-Yeah. I just…I really love you,” you whispered, eyes glassy. His jaw clenched, and he kissed you hard. Your hips move faster, driven by how good he feels inside you, how much you’ve needed this—him. Every inch of him fills you so deeply, your soft moans spilling into his neck as you cling to his chest, your fingers curling against his warm skin. “Niki…” you breathe, your voice catching, overwhelmed by the way his hands grip your waist like he never wants to let go. You’re moving faster now, your movements desperate and full of need. His lips find your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he can touch, kiss, claim. “Look at you,” he pants against your skin, his voice raspy and low, “So needy for me…” You whimper again and nod, forehead pressed to his as you ride him, his name whispered like a prayer between shaky breaths.

Your thighs tremble from the effort, your pace faltering . Your hips start to slow, each bounce growing more uneven. The moans spilling from your lips get breathier, softer, your body struggling to keep up with how much you want him. You cling to his shoulders, dizzy from pleasure and effort, your head falling against his neck. “I…I can’t…” you whisper, barely able to speak through your panting. But Niki’s hands slide firmly around your waist. “I’ve got you.” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. Before you can even catch your breath, his grip tightens, and he starts lifting you and dropping you back down onto him—harder, deeper, faster. A choked gasp leaves your mouth as you’re overwhelmed by the sudden rhythm, his strength making your body bounce on him like you weigh nothing at all. “Niki—!” you cry out, burying your face in his shoulder, your fingers clawing into his back. He groans low, thrusting up to meet every movement, the sounds between you loud and shameless—wet, skin against skin, your soft whimpers, his ragged breathing.

“So cute,” he says softly, dragging his mouth against your jaw. “So fucked out already. Can’t even ride me without help, huh?” You only whimper, too lost in the feeling, too full, too sensitive. His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing slow circles that make your entire body jolt. He keeps bouncing you on his cock with deep, precise thrusts, each one hitting that sweet spot again and again. The pleasure overwhelms you, floods you, and your moans turn high-pitched and breathless, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Niki—! I-I’m gonna—” you pant. “Let go f’me,” he groans into your neck, voice low and gentle. “Be a good girl and cum.” You break with a cry, walls tightening around him so hard it makes him moan. He thrusts one more time, deep, sharp, and then he’s spilling inside you with a low, drawn-out curse, your name on his lips.

Both of you stay like that, panting, clinging to each other, your chests pressed together, skin slick and warm. He kisses you softly, lazily, holding you close. After a moment, he gently lifts your hips off him. You twitch at the overstimulation, thighs trembling. Niki glances down between your legs, and his grin grows wide, cocky. His cum is leaking out of you, slow and warm, and when he sees the embarrassed look on your face, he chuckles low in his throat. “Aww…don’t be shy, angel.” he coos. “Niki…” you whimper, trying to close your legs. But he tuts playfully, grabbing your thigh to keep them spread. “Don’t hide, baby. You look so pretty like this.” Then, before you can even react, he slides two fingers into you again, pushing his release back in, slow and deep. You gasp, back arching just slightly. “Gotta keep it in, yeah?” he murmurs teasingly, voice low as he leans down to kiss your cheek, soft and lingering.

You whine, burying your face in his neck from how sensitive you are, and he finally pulls his fingers out, his hand moving to your waist as he pulls you into his chest. For a while, neither of you says anything. He just holds you there, warm arms wrapped around your back, and you bury yourself into his bare skin, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm inside you. Eventually, he shifts, helping you lie down beside him. His arm stays around your waist, tugging you close, and you rest your head on his chest. Listening to the soft rhythm of his heart beneath your ear, you finally let your eyes fall shut, comforted by the warmth of his body and the safety of his hold. You fall asleep like that—wrapped in the arms of the boy you’ve always loved.

moodboard

You hum with a smile, perfectly transparent as it greedily writes across your face in bold that you've been dicked down pretty damn good by the no-name stuck-up he barely pays attention to on campus. A slightly bold remark coming from him, he does admit, considering he doesn't commingle outside of his group of just...him and Beomgyu. But he can rest assured that more girls would trip on their tongues watching him light up a cigarette than anyone would seeing Jongseong trying to 'gentleman' his way inside your cunt.

"He paid for brunch too! Like that debit card is no joke Hoon— look at my new precious pair of babies I got!" Squealing, you hop lightly on your feet with the encrusted Jimmy Choos you were practically turning your wardrobe upside down for just to rummage through the barrage of hot pinks and dusty rose. Stepping towards the mirror with your ankles flushed pale by the too-tight straps is all he needs to understand where your priorities lie. "Oh! My! Gosh! They're so cute!— I wanna name this one Leblanc and this one—"

"—You have names for your heels?"

"Duh? Jay helped me name the other pair Christina and Simmrin." His lip tugs down sourly as he crouches to loop his finger around your fuchsia bikini bottoms, bringing it slightly too close to his face when you tut at his reflection in the mirror. "Put it down Hoon, I know you want a worn pair."

As if the mention of your dirty laundry was part of his natural instinct, he's immediately making himself comfortable snapping at the band of your panties by the small bow the second he rushes over. His smile hangs as his thumb traces over the waistband, tired eyes focused on how you twitch against even the slightest trace of his touch.

"Then I want the cute pair you've got on right now doll, please." Your eyes roll to the side before stabbing your freshly-pedicured nail at the hard muscle spanning across his chest. Only to set a little distance between you as you usher him back towards his respected seat on your bed. Preferably naked of course, but having him look pretty among your plush-pink pillows and bedsheets instead of a muted-dull satisfies you enough.

With the slight jangle of your peardrop earrings, you shimmy the lavender cotton down your legs as they bunch up between your thighs. Looping them over your heels one by one before throwing them absentmindedly at his face, catching onto the few seconds the fabric hooks onto his nose before sliding down towards his lap. Plus the gross smirk that plays on his lips right after. "If you're going to jerk off with them don't cum all over my skirt right next to you!"

Sunghoon flips up the tiny cropped skirt that looks entirely flimsy in his large hands; the hem would barely reach past the curve of your ass if you wore it. "Not even a little bit? Just the hem?"

Observing the skirt now that he's struck a pretty hot deal for himself, your laugh bubbles through teasingly as you propose your own offer. "Okay fine, whatever! Just the hem. But you'll have to explain it to Jongseong if he questions it at the party. Oh! And Sakura's going to be there—"

"I'm not going." You perk at the downward spiral in tone as he tosses the skirt far across your room into the heaps of scattered clothes you groan at. Too distraught and whiny over having to dig through for the exact same skirt among piles of hoarded clothes than your friend sank into your mattress with your panties draped over his face.

"What?! No! But— Hoon you always come with me to my parties! I even let you bring Beomgyu, well — at least everyone likes you when you're there!" Betrayal swindles your expression as your brows furrow enough to pop a vein, harrowing your features while your plumping lip gloss is slowly drawn away by the graze of your teeth as you bite down on the flesh. "A-and all my friends say they want to fuck you when you’re there!" Your head grows dizzy trying to scour for any excuse to stop him from bailing on a fun night out. Because who else would let you sit on his lap when your feet start to hurt from your heels?!

"—I'm sure your little boytoy and his friends want to fuck you too. Bet you've already let Jongseong fuck your ass like a proper dumb slut." He picks your panties off his face with two fingers and turns his head to face you. Eyes deadpanned as they follow the curve of your mascara swathed lashes which bat so prettily for him. "I don't understand why you keep running to him when I'm at your beck and call."

Beginning to feel called out, you halt while trying on the new sets of lingerie. Dropping the sexy maroon that Jongseong bought you on a whim, and you accepted it gratefully without any plans of showing him how it looked on your body.

"Who said I was going to give Jongseong a second chance? You know I don't do those Hoon!" And fuck, you don't even come to realise the effect you have on him as you peer over his body dipped into the mattress. Your tits hover over him as they struggle to stay within the seams of your v-cut top, gravity practically becoming his best friend as he pauses to peer at you through the valley of your chest. "What? Don't tell me you're getting jealous over Jongseong— I mean he’s… ohmygosh you totally are!"

Your squeals override his groans as you latch yourself on top of him, arms crossed and laid flat as you lie on top, heel studded legs kicking up in the air as you try to tease an answer out of him. "You are so jealous Hoon, awwh! But you do realise that there's a line of other girls ripping out my hair for you right? I told you we’re not exclusive, you know!"

"Doesn't matter, I want you to make it up to me. Let me cum inside again, or something. Be a doll f'me won't you?" Sunghoon prods his thumb between the purse of your lips. Dragging the flesh down as he gropes his thumb along your warm gums, forcing it through your teeth as he presses down on your tongue.

God, if he didn't know any better he'd probably have you sucking him off to the bone with the tightest, little throat of yours.

You don't even read into any of his thoughts as you allow him to continue wandering through the wet muscle. Eyes wide open and hair softly dishevelled as you continue to peer at him through your lashes, only choosing to pull away when you feel the need to speak.

"Hooon! But I'm still sore from yesterday! And you came over the night before that." You're more than aware that he doesn't have a large circle of close friends by any means to be casually fucking in the same way you do. But your thighs clench together naturally upon facing him eye-to-eye to see him entirely pussy drunk. Completely absorbed inside his own headspace of pleading to fuck you through droopy sleepless eyes while his hands roam over the small of your back. “I only invited you over because you hate the losers you hang out with in central. I did tell you not to come over unless you wanted to watch me go through the new sets I bought.”

"Mmm, I know, but please angel, you can't leave me so f'cking hard after coming onto me with no panties. Just this once, pretty."

Immediately, your lips purse into a yelp as you sit right up, bare pussy practically moulding over the bulge of his dick print, dumbly whining as you try to hold back from grinding against him. "A-ah I forgot— b-but still my lingerie! I haven't finished trying them out yet Hoon!" The growing uncomplacent thought that you'll never remember to try on the new sets if you push it back any further presses a frown right across your face. Brows caving in so sweetly as you contemplate between the two, unaware of your folds building up slick against his sweats driving him to the brink of release, almost. "Can I just try on the pink set over there? I'll be quick Hoon I swear!"

Without any regard for what his answer would be, you spring back up onto your very feet, hands interchanging between the frilly violet and the baby pink lace as you bring the balconettes right up to your chest. "What do you think of this one Hoon? It's playing too much into the good girl image right? Ugh! Should I have asked Jongseong for the one in velvet instead?"

"Go for the hot pink, that fucker— ah, Jongseong knew exactly what he wanted with that." Sunghoon sits upright as he watches you dig for the set intently, holding up to the mirror and then against your body as you admire all the sheer spots.

From entirely see-through to the frilly tulle that drapes down from the bra, you make better judgement of the set as you pull the hem of your top above your head. Your fingers nimbly sweep over the clasp before letting your bra slip past your shoulders, eyeing your reflection as you pieced all the fancy threads and lacey details of the lingerie together over your body.

"Hoon? Does this look okay? I mean there's still the powder blue set I have and— hey! Hey— Hoon what are you doing?!" Kicking your heels off your ankles as you become weightless within the air only causes you to squeak out confused little whimpers as Sunghoon lifts you up. Bulked arm scooping you up by the back of your knees, hauling you slightly into the air for a brief few seconds before your cheek is pressed right up against the wall.

He plants you against the polaroids he stuck to the wallpaper, lewd shots of your cunt that you proudly put on display for every time you've let him stuff you full of his cum. The most recent being the snapshot he took with shaky hands after pounding you straight into the core of the mattress. Solely focused on breeding you with every last drop of his seed—all of which unfolded just yesterday when he made a lacklustre excuse of being in the area.

"Give me a warning the next time you lift me up, I could've chipped those heels!" You fight back your giggles as his breath hushes along your neck, knee slotted between your fleshy thighs to seat you on the broad muscle of his leg. Bodies flushed together as your perfume diffuses into his cologne, eyes expectantly batting at him when you're outwardly ripped of your breath.

By none other than Sunghoon, who's decided to get into a twist with your panties as he stretches the leg hole over your head, bunching the rest of the fabric into a wrapped fist which he tugs on your throat with.

"Talking too much— 'don't think I can hold on any longer when you're all dolled up like this." Wound snug against your neck, he pulls on the makeshift leash until the threading starts to snap. Seams coming undone at the stitching, material fraying in his hands as his knuckles burn ivory from his grip. "Watch your back, angel."

Mewling, you steady yourself onto your feet numbed by the heels you're no longer bound by. Back dipping into the unholiest arch with every last inch you could bend into being followed by a small coo from him. Ass thrusted flush against his bulge with obscene whines slipping through your clenched lips.

"Hurry up! I t-told you I made plans with Ha— mngh!" Right along the polaroids, you scratch across the blotting ink, the indent of your nails dragging down the wall from one snapshot to another with every kiss planted down your neck. "No marks on my neck Hoon, I'll kill you I swear!"

But Sunghoon never entirely complies; he equivocates and compromises with you with his actions alone. Suckling up your neck just soft enough to leave a faint patch, teasing your weak spot just between the trough of your neck and shoulder as his tongue swathes over your skin. Teeth grazing just slightly enough for you to feel the sting of pain, reminding you of just how fucking good it feels to be seen with his hickeys tattooed down your neck and chest. The way your shallow group of friends flock to you in a herd, asking and ghosting over the bruises with their fingertips. Trying to guess if it was Jongseong you were out of town with last week, or Heeseung who graduated last year. Rolling on the wheels of his Cadillac hoping to see you on your way out of your lectures still, but it's almost guaranteed that you're loitering out back with Sunghoon far from him.

Pressed against the brick in the same manner as you are now, flashing him the cutest pair of panties you bought that week with a quick flip of your skirt. All the while Beomgyu's neck is twisted to the brink of his life to pry his straying eyes away. You know what your friends think of him outside of getting into his pants; the small tricks they pull to drag you away from taking the long route around the campus grounds to see him.

Though none of it stops your waist from aching with the dent of his fingers as he draws you in closer, stabilising your hips to meet him at the crotch, still sucking lightly against your neck.

"Okayokayokay! Just don't make it super obvious that I'm seeing you again." Airy giggles blend into silent gasps that grasp for more air than the space between you allows. The frown plastered across his face grows evident against your skin as he bares his teeth on the soft flesh. Neck stung by his canines that dig so far into the back of your neck you wail at the thought of breaking skin, eyes pricking with tears as you reach out for his hand from behind.

"Mmm, anything else beautiful?"

The sudden question knocks you off guard, processing under millions of thoughts that seem to short circuit halfway, only managing to shake your head gently.

"Just be gentle Hoon." He hums against your neck with his hands caving between your thighs, fingers crawling in between them to make his way towards the apex, sliding his middle in between the slick of your folds.

"No promises angel, that means I'll get away with everything else doesn't it?" Before you could raise yourself from the arch you were folded into, Sunghoon's already ripping through the lace of your lingerie, plucking away at the straps and gnawing down at the floral embellishments as he grinds his bulge against you. Hard enough to pass off as being inside you already, huge enough to make it hurt as he continues to rut against your clit.

"Hoon! This is—!"

"Throw out all the sets he bought you. I'll fuck— I'll buy you all the ones you like doll." Scanning through the torn lingerie starting to hang bare with threads plucked out of the material, you acknowledge the waste as a one-off, complying with Sunghoon as he spins you around to face him. With your makeup done up just for him starting to fall apart as your spoiled tears begin to emulsify through the powder blush you adorned on your cheeks. And god, you're so divine among the domed pink ceiling, and champagne heels he can't bear to imagine the price tag on, thulian robe shrugged off on the floor elsewhere.

It's only necessary that he lifts you against the wall again, the elevation soaring through you as your nails dig into his bulky shoulders for support. Just about high enough for you to tower over him. Observing the glint peering through his drowsy eyes as he pushes your thighs together for him, lowering you gently as he fumbles through his sweats.

Fishing his hand beneath the waistband, he gives enough mercy to let it fall short of his knees before jutting his tip through the valley of your thighs. Groaning repeatedly as the warm plumpness squeezes him through to the very tip, suffocating his cock all around as blood tries to rush through the prominent vein. "Sweet girl, hhholy fuck, feels just like your pretty cunt." One hand of yours clutches at the pillar of the vanity right beside you, the other pinned by his to the polaroids stuck to the wallpaper as your legs bounce. Suspended in the air over his shoulder, back flush against the wall he holds you up against.

"Making all the dirtiest noises in my ear, bet Jongseong couldn't satisfy you with boring old doggy. That used to be our thing." Sunghoon glides his lips along your neck before encasing yours, tongue pushing through to kiss along your teeth and drawl against the roof of your mouth as he takes charge. "HnnghHooon—! I'm falling I—" His biceps bulge as they carry the weight of you, and your thighs fold into your stomach as he shrugs your legs to fit more comfortably over his shoulder blade.

Your teeth nearly clamp down on his tongue when his hand untangles from your fingers to yank at the sheer bra that the lingerie encases you with. Perked nipples indirectly begging for him to appeal to, still puffy from the teasing all throughout yesterday.

Sunghoon tugs on the panties wrapped around your neck once more, cock throbbing as it pulses through your thighs, fixated on how your eyes widen at the sudden constriction around your neck. You gasp and falter slightly, eyes blinking with purging tears as your brows sink so pitifully he can't help but loosen the choking slightly. Though your thighs tense on cue as if to plead with him to tighten it again.

"O-ohmygod." Clenching your teeth together, you attempt to refrain from spilling your moans across your echoey bedroom the second your good sex charm latches himself onto your chest. Which ultimately works until he starts to swirl the tip of his tongue around the sensitive bud, nipping at it gently to facade the ulterior tug to your nipples coming next. Teething along the nub as he continues to jam his cock through your meaty thighs, drenching them in your slick as the underside glides up from between your folds and protrudes out the top.

You spit onto his flushed pink tip as it parts its way between your thighs. Foreskin pushed up as he slows down in the middle of where your warm skin fully encases him, then unravelling the tip as it emerges to catch onto the glob of spit that trails down your pelvis.

It's lewd. Almost too fucking lewd for even Jongseong to compete with, so gentle with you throughout the night as if you were made of porcelain when Sunghoon's practically ravaging through you like a starved beast. Targeting every sweet spot he's learned to date: the shell of your ear, your inner thighs that twitch with every drag of his cock, and your arching back when he rubs his fingers up your spine. How could you not give him a second, or third, and now the 24th chance to please you real good?

When he speaks out every unscrupulous thought that surges through him without a filter, setting himself miles apart from the guys who think you're too poised and pretty to hear anything dirtier than your cunt feeling like atonement personified. And while you might be bird brained altogether and possibly the bluntest tool in the shed, you know best how much it turns you on when Sunghoon's breathing is jagged and rough from exertion.

"Would be a waste to throw all these sets away— maybe I should cum all over them before returning them to Jongseong, hm?" Pathetic mewls paired with your manicured nails pawing down his chest is all that tells him he's right in his judgement that you wanted to show him off. Your eyes glistening with curiosity as the explicit image of his cock shoving between your thighs as the head brushes over your puffy clit burns its sigil into your memory.

"Hoon please— inside! Fffuck! Wanna feel you inside alreadyngh—"

And who is Sunghoon to deny you when you ask so sweetly for him? Listening to your every word as he lowers your legs from his shoulder tops and holds your feigning balance as your feet reach the ground. It's only a matter of seconds before he's lifting you up again, legs wrapped around either side of him while his hair tickles along your jaw. Messy and unruly, and outgrown despite you telling him he needed a trim. But you'll be the first to admit there's nothing hotter than Sunghoon's hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, or the silver necklace that sweeps across his collar bones and swings into your chest when he’s fucking you.

The stretch of his cock as the fat tip prods at your entrance is impossible to ignore when it splits your folds completely. With any mention of a condom being forbidden between you ever since you first let him ditch it last month. Wanting to feel the raw ridge of his dick as it protrudes through your clenching walls, trying to soothe the ache of the stretch as he sheaths himself fully.

"Hah— pussy's so f'cking perfect, I'm addicted baby, don't know what to do." Burying his forehead into your chest, his sighs grow shaky as he gives himself time to simmer inside the warmth of your cunt while you whimper around every throb of his cock inside of you. Your heart skips a beat when the pulse sends a shockwave through your nerves as his tip closes in on your cervix, nudging snug at the boundary that tears pierce your eyes over. "Such a good girl, wouldn't mind if you slut yourself to me a little more often trying on lingerie while I'm here."

Shaking your head no as a rebuttal to his uncivilised claims, your tongue glides along your lips nervously; the lip gloss from before having since wiped off. A slight miscalculation in your movement causes your back to arch further into him, eyes squinting at the sudden shift in depth as you feel him impossibly deeper within. Cock pressed upright against you as the pressure of him stretching you out catalyses with every grunt as he finally snaps his hips. "Mmmngh!— Hoon this feels weird y-you're—"

"Too deep? You're swallowing me whole, angel. Look at you..h-holy shit." Sunghoon swallows with a gulp as he fucks into your cunt. Head not knowing whether to choose between throwing itself back in pure bliss as you clench around him in hopes of adjusting to the profound girth, or leaning forward to smother his face into your pretty tits.

Your eyes flutter shut aside from the few attempts to peek through your lashes at the way you encase him completely. Puffy folds spreading and stretching around his cock as the fat base pummels through, coated in shameful slick that glistens around your dripping cunt. So shameful it only makes your walls tighten at the sight.

"Thought I stretched you loose enough yesterday and ngh— now look at you. Seems like I'll have to come back every day before Jongseong's party until he takes the fucking hint, hm?"

To anyone who knows Sunghoon, in which everyone does despite their hostility, they’ll know that Sunghoon plays dirty. Doing anything that'll land him in the position he's in right now. Buried so deep inside of your cunt he's afraid he'll pierce right through, and hell, he'd beg you for an eternity with longing pleas just to see a wet patch through your panties.

With every brutish thrust that follows the calculated rhythm of his hips, your face contorts into every sinful expression that he'd be able to find on the thumbnail of his favourite porn clips. From studio shot roleplays to 720p sex tapes recorded on a bedside table— he's probably rotted his brain with the number of times he's imagined you all ruined and unkempt once he's completely bottomed out inside of your cunt. Wanting nothing more than to have your walls carved out into a custom pocket-pussy he can carry with him anywhere, fucking into the silicone to reminisce about the way you clamp down on him with such vigour.

"A—ah! I told you to be g-gentle Hoon hnghh! Slow downmph!" You're interrupted by the plough of his two fingers inside your mouth. Pressing flat down onto your tongue to keep it in place, shutting you up as he begins to regulate his pace. Which you'll come to regret the second he begins to administer straight torture through the lengthy drag of his cock through your cunt. Making sure you memorise every coarse ridge that runs along it as he moulds your walls with every delayed thrust, stopping just before his tip breaches towards your cervix when you whine at the loss of contact.

"What's that doll? Have something to say?" Once again, his thumb plucks on the loose fabric of the panties wrapped around your neck. Tugging it towards him as he shoves his fingers further down your throat, laughing as he hears the obscene gag that pursues. He adores the pleasured tears brimming in your tear ducts as he chokes around your neck again with the panties that have now been soaked in your drool. A rogue montage of your tangled hair and ruined makeup with your spit catching the light of your mini-chandelier as it drips down your chin. Mixing with the same explicit virtues as his attention is drawn by your juices splattered all over your inner thigh. Cock gushing out projectiles of your wetness with every reluctant pull out of your cunt.

He warps your walls with every patronising rut, a smile beaming across his face that only makes you want to smudge it off him, considering you're frustrated with every substandard thrust he's given you since slowing down. Especially when you were damn well nearing bliss every time he struck the gummy clump of nerves that shot your lust-filled eyes back into a roll.

So you protest him to the best of your ability, clenching around his cock to squeeze out every last inch of him and his proximity. Sucking around his fingers as you mimic the sloppiest artwork of a blowjob around them, lips pursed and plump with your tongue swirling circular around the index and middle. Your moans tweak into a higher pitch, more frequent and whiny as you fake exaggerated whimpers in between real ones to make his cock jump. Doll-like eyes luring him in to give you everything you want, anytime you want. Exploiting his soft spot for your pretty tear-stained face as vibrations from your needy hums strum over his fingers.

"Dirty fucking slut— is this how you've been treating Jongseong lately? Is that why he's been getting on my nerves slinging you around his arm like you're his?" Sunghoon doesn't mean to get all handsy and bothered by who you're seeing aside from him, but he doesn't even try to fight the urge to kiss his teeth before he's making rounds to suckle on your neck again. Littering his marks selfishly along your neck as you continue to whimper for him through muffled sobs and cries with every envious throttle of his cock past your bruising cunt. Clit starting to ache and harden as you near your high embarrassingly fast with each bump of his tip against the nub whenever he pulls out too far. Only being able to satiate himself with the loss of warmth by slamming his tip right back in with ruthless strokes to make up for himself.

"Mmgonna cumpgh!" Unable to constrict your moans, you gasp around his fingers, trying to force coherent words out aside from the muffles. Not that Sunghoon needed to hear you verbally to understand, he knows all too well the routine when your heels dig into his lower back. Drawing your bodies closer together until he doesn't have the space to pull out any further than repeatedly bullying your spongy walls, eyes growing heavy with lust as he loses himself within the warmth.

"Ffffuck doll, you're gonna let me cum inside again? Not satisfied enough from yesterday?" Sunghoon withdraws his fingers with a string of saliva connecting you, brows furrowed as he waits for your answer patiently. He's only worried about not being able to hold on for long enough at the rate you're throbbing around him right now.

"Don't want you t' pull out Hoon, ohmygod—! Can't waste a drop—"

Sure, he heard the main gist of your sentence, but Sunghoon's already spilling his load into you as spurts of warm cum start to squelch in the confined space his cock is already taking up. Strokes pledging to fill you completely with his seed as he ushers to purge in every drop. Even going as far as to stuff his hands inside of your swollen entrance to fuck any spillages back in.

Too focused on the shockwaves of pleasure soaring through your body as your legs start to drop numb and weak from the ultimatum of an orgasm, you don't acknowledge the figure who's walked into your room.

Neither can you tell how long Park Jongseong's been standing at the door to your bedroom, eyeing your pinned body held up by Sunghoon's arms until he announced himself with the shattering of a glass. Sonorous with disbelief as he watches Sunghoon completely feign ignorance of him. Continuing to fuck his seed into you as you asked him to ever so sweetly when you're suddenly laughing off the awkwardness off your shoulders.

"Hi— Jongseong! Are we...still up for brunch next Saturday?"

The two of you hang out but you also go on dates. Sometimes casual, other times you’re getting a cryptic intentionally nonchalant message to dress up and the time he’s coming by to get you and the next thing you know your being driven out over an hour to some extremely elaborate soirée with all kinds of people dressed just at intricately as you. The stars in Riki’s eyes are different now when he looks at you.

“Beautiful…”, whispered against your forehead right before he kisses it and biting your lip while you hold your breath is all you can do so you don’t scream.

There’s so many new sides to each other you see now that you obviously wouldn’t have when you were just friends.

For example, Riki who on the outside is cool and quiet is actually the complete opposite in a relationship. Whiny when you don’t give him enough attention, whiny when people give you too much attention (like the instagram fiasco). He’s even clingier now— going as far to have an attitude when having to go for long periods of time without you. Completely shameless, he is a man that is not above begging and guilt tripping to make you give in or stay.

“But the last trip was girls only! Why do you have to go to this one? It’s like you never miss me at all🥺😔…”

“I’ll be so lonely…what if I need a hug?” You pinch your lips in to help suppress the smile fighting to show as you look down at the top of his head. Riki lets out a pained groan, shuffling closer on his knees to nuzzle his face harder into your stomach as you wrap your arms around his head.

“Baby, it’s barely two days and you do have friends—“, another pained sigh and you can’t fight the smile anymore. “Ask Kai for a hug if you need one.” He shakes his head so hard, you’re worried he’ll give himself friction burn, long arms tightening around you.

“Noooo! I don’t wanna hug Kai”, he spits his name out like a curse. “I wanna stay with you…” Fuck. He’s too cute. You might lose this one. Taking a deep breath, you don’t say anything else because if you do, you’ll give and he knows it.

“Please, baby?” Resting his chin on your stomach after kissing it, big distraught eyes look up at your swiftly crumbling expression. “Stay— don’t make me miss you, love you too much…” You slam your eyes shut.

K.O. Flawless victory.

He knows he’s won when you cup his face, bangles cool against his cheek when you lean down to place a tender kiss on his lips, softly cooing.

“My poor baby— it’s fine, I can stay. For you.”

Soaking up your attention, he can hardly hide his victorious grin as your phone vibrates on the counter while you scatter lip stain all over his face; your friends waiting for a reply that won’t come until much later. The later being after you’re both in bed with him shirtless because it’s on you. You’re about to go to sleep and he’s wrapped comfortably around you when you gasp, finally remembering,

“I never texted the girls back!” Before you can think about texting them back now, Riki moves you tighter against him, voice low and melodic. “Wait until morning? It’s really late, what if we wake them?” He has a point so you agree to get back to them then.

But don’t you know the flight is in the morning? The same flight he’ll conveniently make sure you forget all about. It doesn’t matter if you already said you’d stay, there’s nothing wrong with some…insurance.

Whenever either of you cancel on your friends, you have to have a suitable excuse because while going from friends to lovers wasn’t difficult…

Keeping your relationship a secret was.

Now, it’s not like you’re ashamed or embarrassed about each other— just neither of you were in the mood to hear the “I told you so”’s from everyone who knew you. In the end, you just liked keeping each other to yourselves. Plus you got enough flak just for being friends with Riki from girls around campus who liked him and you really didn’t want a repeat of the incident from 2 months ago.

It wasn’t a party, per se but a loud social gathering with lots of people, loud music, dancing and drinks. You told him it’d be easier to call it a party even though the mass text said get together but Jackson said he was trying to work on his reputation. How calling the very obvious party a not party helped him? You didn’t have a single clue.

It wasn’t long after arriving that you and Riki split up. He didn’t particularly want to be there in the first place but telling you no was never his favorite thing to do so he tagged along under zero pressure when you mentioned it. He ended up upstairs, sipping the second drink he’s had all night talking to a couple of guys he was friends with on the team when he pulled out his phone and saw the time. 12:47. You got there at 11.

He hadn’t seen you since 11.

Immediately he’s up, drink abandoned on the table. Different people try to talk to him, unfamiliar faces, random girls with too wide smiles and way too much perfume but he brushes them all off— moving with single minded intent. As tall as he is, looking over a crowd is easy but his heart is starting to race because he still doesn’t see you.

Storming into the kitchen, he looks around. There’s a few girls who all turn to look at him when he enters. One even says hi. They’re not you so he can’t be bothered, walking right back out ready to start yelling your name over the music if that’s what it takes when someone bumps into his chest with all the force of a sinner trying to run out of hell.

Looking down, his heart begins to slow because it’s finally you. But now that he knows you’re safe—

“Where the hell have you b—“, when you look up, you’re crying. Thick tears stream down your face, streaking your makeup that he knows took forever while your chest visibly jumps from all the effort it’s taking you not to sob.

His heart stops.

“I-I’m sorry but”, you try to take a deep breath but it only ends in more tears. “We can go h-home now.” Big hands cradle your face, ignoring everyone around you as he tries to calm you down. You’d barely been here two hours and you wanted to leave? Not only was that unlike you but you were crying. Crying and you wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“What happened?”

You keep quiet.

Shaking your head while the answer stays trapped behind your bitten lips. He’d let it go and take you home straight away but something caused this. He can’t let that slide.

“Who did it?” He tries again, voice growing more desperate with each minute that passes where you won’t talk or even look at him.

“Baby, please.” Dark eyes search your face until your red ones look at him.

“Talk to me, look at your pretty face— you’re all upset.” Still nothing. He still tries.

“Who did it? Let me fix it.” Your voice is the smallest he’s ever heard it when you ask,

“Then we can go home?” He nods, thumbs brushing your tear-stained cheeks.

“Then we can go home.” After that, you tell him. There was this group of girls you met in the kitchen and you thought they liked you until one of them had suddenly switched up, telling you that you’re lucky to even know him; let alone be friends.

“A-and that you only hang out with me b-because”, the sob that you were holding back breaks as a fresh wave of tears fall down your face. “Because I’m a hooker..” as in anyone could pay to have you because you were only worth that much. The look on his face is crestfallen, waiting for you to finish. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so… embarrassed.

“I never said anything because you never made me feel bad but do you? T-think I’m a—“,

He stops you with a gentle kiss to your cheek before you can even think about repeating it.

“I think the world of you.” His voice is so soft, it’s hard to hear over everything but you do. “Dressing sexy, being a flirt, wearing makeup— doesn’t make you easy and none of it makes you a hooker. I never say anything about your style because I love it. Fun and cheeky and a little irresponsible”, that last part makes you laugh.

“But it’s all you, baby. You’re fine as you are.”

You kiss his thumb brushing your lip in silent thanks. It’s way too intimate and affectionate for people who are just friends but looking back it was probably repressed denial.

“Who told you that anyway?” Riki sounds calm—casual. Absolutely concerned too but little do you know his heart is pounding in his chest ready to go find to whoever the fuck made you cry. You shrug, it’s hard to remember her name but you tell him what she was wearing and it clicks when he gets her face in his mind.

The girl in the kitchen. The one who said hi to him.

He hands the keys to his car over so you can wait for him while he goes to grab something he “left”. You don’t find out until weeks later that not only did he tell that same girl that she couldn’t be further from his type; and that drunk and high off of every pill on the planet, he’d still never go for her—but he also told her if she ever so much as looked at you wrong that he’d stop at nothing to ruin any social life she’ll ever have.

To this day— whenever you would manage to see her in the hall, she’d already be turning back around.

That whole scene was a completely new side of Riki you’d never even glimpsed. Such intense protectiveness while staying calming and sweet to you. Then again, he was always sweet to you…except the week he finally had time and remembered to get condoms after promising to fuck you stupid as soon as he did.

That week you were convinced he seriously was trying to kill you.

You were walking back from mess hall when Niki texts you. Short, simple but vague enough to make you pause in your stride.

Come to mines. There’s something I wanna show you.

Heart beating faster, you look around to make sure nobody sees the wide-eyed look you’re staring your screen down with before you make a mad dash out the main entrance. Panting, your fingers fly across the screen as you text back.

Is it for me?

There’s a ping less than a minute later. The first is a photo attachment that makes your breath catch and the next is the message.

Only for you, baby. All of it.

By the time you get to your car, you already feel a mess. The tight burn of arousal simmers in your lower abdomen as you start to drip. It’s embarrassing how you’re hardly able to text him that you’re on your way, fixing your makeup at every red light until it’s even more perfect. After last time, you decided to do lash extensions instead of falsies that wouldn’t make it past round 2 with Riki.

Squeezing your thighs together the whole ride there, by the time you actually arrive you’re soaked through. Puffy, wet and so so warm— clit throbbing with need against the seam of your tight jeans.

Hand to his door, you only get to knock once before it swings open in your startled face and you’re being yanked inside. After toeing off your shoes, he quickly crowds you against the wall. Neither of you say anything right away while Riki takes a slow, good look at you and how gorgeous you look all dolled up the way you always are. He wants to appreciate it a little before he reduces you to the simplest form.

Nerves turn the blood under your skin into an electrical current, pupils steadily dilating as you look at each other, tension thick. Riki breaks first, stepping close to wrap his big hand tight around your throat. Heat slots through your core fast. Slamming into your gut like a cannonball— heavy and unforgiving. You even start to feel dizzy with how suddenly you catch yourself slipping.

His name leaves you in a breathy plea.

You almost trip over your feet when he drags you even closer— directly to his mouth to whisper against your lips.

“Didn’t I promise to fuck you up as soon as it was safe?”

Riki doesn’t wait for you to answer— laving his tongue hotly across your jaw before suckling open, wet kisses up to your mouth. Cushioning your bottom lip between his lips, his mouth deliciously flush to yours– suckling softly before doing the same to your top lip.

It’s slow. Deliberate.

Tilting his head, he deepens the kiss. Tracing his tongue sloppily across the inseam of your parted lips, dipping inside to lick at the corner of your mouth before moulding his tongue against yours when you moan— Riki’s mouth swallowing the sound whole. His other hand caresses down up and down your waist; teasing the underside of your tits with his thumb. Your body is thrumming, livewire as he kisses you like this is the last time you’ll ever want him.

If only he knew how much you always did.

When he pulls away, there’s a thin string of spit connected to your mouths and his lips are tingling because of your plumping gloss. He’s also hard. Well, he was hard 45 minutes before he even texted you to come over simply because he knew you were coming over. Earlier that week he got hard on a random Wednesday because he knew you were coming over Friday.

Loosening his hold a bit around your throat, the quick rush of oxygen makes you throb. Riki lets out a low purr of approval, relishing the way your eyes glaze over.

“Oh you’re gonna be real good f’me…” Your pulse spikes. Hard.

“Just like you were the first time. Remember, baby?” You nod because you would never be able to physically forget. It took your body days to completely calm down after; your pupils would get huge whenever you’d so much as smell a room he’d recently been in. You’d feel him when he wasn’t even around— dripping wet each time.

Riki smiles when you nod, kissing you one more time before swinging you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeal in favor of taking the familiar route to his room. Feeling giddy, you kick your legs just to annoy him. He huffs out an amused laugh, cracking his hand down hard on your ass to still your squirming, making you gasp.

There’s no time to catch your breath though when you’re promptly dropped on the bed, Riki yanks his shirt off—on you right after. Fingers wrap around your ankles as he yanks you down the to the edge where he’s kneeling. Heart pounding, hot puffs of air dance teasingly across your skin with every barely there brush of his pink lips. You shiver at the feeling.

“Y’know”, A harsh suck to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants has you cutting him off with a needy whine. Riki slots his mouth over each bit of skin he exposes as he peels your jeans off.

“I’ve been wantin’ to kiss her forever, baby…”, he rasps.

Nosing down to the center of your wet panties, Riki groans when he sees how wet you are. Arousal darkens the color of your pretty underwear as the fabric clings so much he can see the swell of your clit. Appetizing. You’re all slick and puffy and you smell so fucking good. Pressing his nose to your cunt, he takes a deep lungful of your scent— eyes fluttering closed while his cock throbs in response. Yanking his pants down to relieve some of the pressure, he takes another deep drag of your arousal.

“N-Niki! What’re you-!” Your voice gets higher in your embarrassment but he can’t stop. Even when your fingers twist in his hair, trying to pull him away he stays. Mouth watering, his tongue falls out to lap a hard stripe up your pussy. Pleasure burns hot in your gut, the weight of his tongue dragging your panties against your clit. In a daze, you grind your hips up mindlessly into his face. Hiccuping moans break into a sharp gasp when your panties are torn clean off you so Riki can eat properly.

The effortless show of strength makes you that much wetter, spreading your legs wider as his tongue slips between your slick folds— lapping against your drooling hole.

“Ooh! F-fuck!”

Your fingers in his hair reflexively tighten, Riki hooking your legs over his his shoulders. He’s trying not to get too carried away but you’re so addictive. The most delicious wet dream under his hungry mouth as he teases your clit between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth until you’re arching off the bed. Sucking until your pussy is enflamed and sopping.

Gasping cries blend in with the carnal sounds of him actively trying to lick you into a coma. Your head is spinning. You don’t know if you want to get away or stay right where you are, body writhing in pleasure. It’s not like it doesn’t feel good— the problem is that it’s too good and a possible threat to your sanity.

“Niki!” His name is ripped from your throat in a visceral cry. Body shaking, you beg as coherently as you can to get a break or at least get him to—

“N-not“, your voice cracks, “Don’t suck so har—ah!”

Separating from your bud, Riki kisses the string of spit connecting him away…riiiight before his fat tongue forces its way inside you, writhing and probing against all the right places. Fuck. Your brain turns to mush. A choked moan gets trapped in your chest, thighs quivering. It feels like you’re going crazy. Tensing then relaxing, involuntary bleats escaping when you try to grit your teeth and withstand it.

You can’t tell which is louder; Riki or your pussy. Riki’s sure it’s more than likely him. He’s always been a messy eater on his best day but when he gets his mouth on something he’s been craving? Good luck, babe. Big hands tighten around your waist as he burrows his face deeper between your thighs. You wail, pleasure racing through you when he slips his tongue out your hole only to run devastating long strokes up your slit before lapping at your perky clit in hungry licks before plump lips wrap tight around it.

His earlier vow not to get carried away is nothing but a distant memory now. Hardly a notion.

The taste and smell of you is addicting. You as a whole was another type of hypnotic entirely and that was before he even knew how you looked falling from the highs of vicious ecstasy. But now, ever since having taken you into himself, it’s through you that this new season has unlocked inside of him. You darken the black of his very pupils.

It’s why he’s so starving— so hungry even though you’re pooling into his mouth, sensitive everywhere throbbing beneath his tongue. It’s primal, Riki eats you like he’s trying to tear you apart but he can’t help it. He just wants you so bad and now he’s drowning in you.

Wrecked moans taper into pleading sobs. Hot tears stream down your face as your cunt tightens— pulsing wildly against his ravenous tongue until all the pressure just gives, soaking his mouth when you cum.

Obscene moans and the wet smacking of his lips fill the room but you barely hear it over the ringing in your cotton filled ears— cumming so hard you think you pull something. Each struggling breath prolongs the storm of melting bliss, coating you inside out in a thick haze of heat until you go boneless.

Pinpricks of over sensitivity kick in when he slows down instead of stopping entirely. You’re a gasping sweating, limp mess on his bed as you try to catch your breath and get your limbs to remember their functions. Whining, your fingers in his hair pushy weakly.

“O-okay…”, another lazy lick up your folds, “Enouggghhh—“, Riki looks up and you and falls all over again. Panting through bitten kiss-swollen lips, your hair is mussed, hard nipples poke through your top while your chest heaves and your makeup has started to run a bit. In a rush of heady musk and sugar, your beauty spirals into disarray. He’s purring at this point, kissing your lips one more time before actually separating. Nuzzling your inner thigh contently, he rasps,

“S’ just licking her clean…”. You hold back a scoff. For him to sound so docile like he didn’t just almost lick her off your body is crazy.

Warm pillowy lips make their way up your body in succulent kisses— pausing just long enough to strip your shirt off then his mouth is back to it. Brushing across your collarbone, you pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself with a needy hum. Reaching down, you’re not surprised to find him rock hard but…

“Why’s your dick so wet? Wait, d-did you—!”

Riki doesn’t let you finish because yes—he did but he’d rather be stretching you out then explaining how he came from sucking you off. He doesn’t answer, making sure your earlier question is forgotten; lost to your moan when he slips two fingers in. Thick digits curve up on every sloppy thrust inside you— bullying spots you had trouble even grazing. The wetness is audible, echoing in the room with your whoreish moans.

He wasn’t sure before but as his fingers brush between your cheeks to your other hole— wet from your cum and his spit—he is now. Grinding his fingers in dizzyingly hot pulses, Riki’s voice is wicked. Low and smooth when he purrs out,

“No plug today, pretty girl?”

Your mind goes blank.

“That’s fine, I know exaaactly how my sloppy holes like bein’ stretched out…”.

A third finger squeezes inside, spreading you wonderfully. Shivers wrack your body, wet babbles stumble over your tongue— trying to say something, anything. What that something is, you can’t remember with the way Riki is abusing that aching spot inside you. Greedy eyes take you in, hissing when the hand around his cock tightens, jerking him in uncoordinated strokes.

You’re forced to let go when Riki takes his fingers out to maneuver your legs over his shoulders, pants taken completely off sometime earlier. Tapping the fat, dripping head of his dick on your clit, he almost forgets to reach above you to grab a condom from the small table closest to the bed. Your mouth goes a little dry because he’s big. You saw earlier but it’s still a bit intimidating.

“Pick a hole, baby.” Riki husks down at you, ripping the foil open with his teeth, he rolls it over his length— moaning in unison with you when he slaps it against the heat of your drooling cunt again as you scramble to decide. Unfortunately and unproductively, your lunatic tendencies kick in. The same ones that had you talking back before emerges to pant out—

“Why don’t you pick?”

Teeth flash in a ravenous grin— downright wolfish as he leans down to suck a kiss to the inside of your left knee. Somewhere between the gleam in his eye and the grin should have been your first warning.

“Because if I do”, he kisses your right knee, “I’m picking both and lickin’ em clean when I’m done.” The shocked look on your face is adorable but he’s being serious. You will be absent for the rest of the day and a few of the ones after if you let him pick. That’s the general warning. To you? It’s a challenge.

“Pick then.” Looking at him daringly through your lashes and smeared eyeliner that had been a taste of the ruin to come. Riki has to close his eyes, take a deep breath.

He’s in the middle of counting when you rake your nails down his chest, cooing breathlessly at the red streaks left behind. His eyes snap open when he hears a whiny moan, looking down to find you playing with your nipples. Flicking and squeezing until it almost hurts, staring into his blown pupils with your own. Closing his hand around your throat, Riki feels the racing of your pulse while you squirm.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. Keep talking”, positioning himself at your twitching hole, he squeezes harder. “Get it all out right now, baby— before your messy cunt does all the talking for you.”

Again, you can’t seem to help yourself. Don’t give a second thought to the last straw you trample over with the next sentence.

“Y’want me to beg? Beg for you to fuck me so hard that I’m squirtin’ all ov- nngh!”

Maybe it was your voice, or the way your softness felt underneath him, smooth hands running over him or how he felt sliding between your swollen pussy lips getting wetter with each rock of his hips while you messed with him like the spoiled little thing you are. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Not when he’s slamming into your crybaby pussy in one merciless thrust.

He might as well have pressed a reset button on you. Jaw dropped open in a piercing wail, your spine arches at how full you are so fast.

“O-oh god—!” That’s all you can get out through your choked sob when Riki grinds his pelvis that’s flush to yours against your clit while simultaneously kissing that spot inside you that makes you tighten more. Slick dripping onto his covers. You’re so cute— struggling to take him and talk your shit even while your cunt cries around him. He’s almost inclined to take it easy on you. Key word is almost.

“That’s right, baby…”

Pulling out a little more so there’s more of that spine tingling pleasure when he slams back in, setting a heavy pace.

“Go ahead and cry for him…”, The grip on your throat tightens as he uses it to slam you down with each thrust before folding you in half so he can kiss you. Needs to kiss you. His mouth is as devouring as it always is, nipping your lips before licking into the wet space to suck your tongue feverishly— pulling away with a filthy grin as he reaches down to strum your clit.

You really start making noise then. Hot, twitching walls squeeze him like slick fist making him growl against your drooling gloss smeared lips, wearing half of the glittery stuff on his own face but most delightfully—

“There you go— there’s my good girl”, The praise is breathed in your gasping mouth; heady sweetness dripping of his words as you lose your mind.

He’s so fucking deep.

You’re completely incoherent when he decides to latch on to one of your puffy nipples and sucks— broad tongue swirling greedily around the bud. Chest caving, a sharp moan bolts from your lips at the stinging bliss and the sound makes Riki suck harder.

Rolling the puffy nub between his teeth, he closes down to bite— searing pain sweetens the lightening racing up your spine as you cry out. You’re so soft, so wet and lovely beneath him; sensitive body jerking spastically while he fucks you until you can’t tell if you’re one person or his entirely. Sobbing out almost tortured groans and whimpers as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking it like a pacifier before teasing it between his teeth and biting— soothing the leftover sting with generous laps of tongue and another disgustingly deep grind in your pussy.

“I-I…!” You try. You try like hell to tell him that you’re gonna fucking cum but fail because of how tight he’s choking you. The lack of oxygen heightens your sensitivity as your voice breaks and it’s music to his ears. He shifts inside a little and can tell where you end immediately. Weak hands grab his wrist before he watches your eyes roll back, blissed out. The sight drives him crazy.

“Bein’ so fuckin’ good”, lean hips move faster as your nerves scatter. “My good, pretty little slut letting me fuck her just how we need—! S’fuckin tight…” Each pulpy slam of his hips becomes stickier and stickier so he looks down and curses, almost blows his load at the sight. You’re creaming. Hard. Milky slick bubbling around the base of his cock, making a mess on him as you gasp and cry for him.

Words can’t touch how good you feel— floating as Riki’s fat cock carves you out, absolutely battering that gooey spot inside you. At this rate, you’ll cum until you faint from the way he makes you take it.

Riki groans, rutting into you harder as he looks at your fucked out expression.

“Goddamn if you could see you right now- fuck-“ he curses as he feels another wave of slick pour out of your cunt. This time he’s generous enough to let go of your windpipe so you can rasp out his name through wet keens.

“N-Niki!”

“Yeah, baby? Talk t’me”, He’s being an ass with how he talks down to you this time. You both know the chances of you responding coherently are slim with your eyes fighting not to roll back into your skull in bliss but he keeps it up anyways.

“I’m listening….”, and you know that but he’s fucking into that little nook and— “Gonna cum?” A gurgled moan and dead weight is his answer.

“Yeah, you are.”

Grabbing your hips, he moves your legs higher on his shoulders as he slams you down to meet his thrusts, reveling in the way you warble his name— using you like a cock sleeve and you’re pulling him to your mouth because you really are at your limit. Meeting you in the middle, Riki gives you a sloppy kiss, heat burning through his gut while getting closer to the edge with you.

“Sooo deep—”, you slur out, hearts in your eyes as he rolls his hips in a nasty grind that ends up being the final nail in your coffin. Eyes finally fluttering back and before you can warn him— hot squirt is suddenly splashing against Riki as he fucks you boneless. “Oh, good girl..” Fingers move faster against your poor clit. “Theerrre you go, sweetness—“, Baby names pending…

Despite hitting the eject button on your soul, Riki doesn’t stop.

“Shhh, m’not too deep”, the rough drawl has a warm jolt of electricity light up your spine. Pressing a heavy hand down on your stomach until he feels that familiar hardness and you jerk hard, biting your lip to keep from screaming but what kills is the cooing lilt his voice takes on.

“See?” Riki teases against your lips, drilling your sweet spot raw with syrupy cockhead kisses.

“I’m juuust right for her…” Pressing another juicy kiss to your lips, Riki cooes at the hearts in your eyes as you fight to stay with him.

“Bet it feels real good, hmm baby?” He purrs, hips continuing to pump against yours while he puts you through the mattress and you cry out. High and wrecked, the cockdrunk need in the sound makes his cock throb viciously inside you. “Bit of a— ah! t-tight fit but it’s exactly what she needs, pretty”.

Your body is almost vibrating under all the stimulation— pressure building up like a valve wound too tight and Niki rails you like he’s trying to release it. He growls as another gush of wetness bubbles around his length where you’re connected.

“Mmm, is it good?” Groaning with a sloppy kiss in your ear, Riki eases up on your throat so you can answer and when you do, you sound as wrecked as you feel. Words sappy and weighted,

“Feels-“, you smuggle in more air, raspy whine sweet as cotton in his ears. “Feels good”, You sound foreign even to yourself and the pure want— “So big— hurts so good!” It’s uncensored and unrefined and it’s so fucking hot he pummels you even harder— makin’ sure to get niiiiiiice n’ deep, rubbing himself against your spot until he feels your pussy kiss around him.

“Just don’t know when to keep that pretty mouth shut”, Riki grunts. You watch pleasure pull him apart at the seams through tearily glazed eyes, creamy cunt gripping him deliciously. Each twitching pull of your impending orgasm brings him closer to his own end. Heart pounding, it’s like you can’t get close enough— just craving him. You’ve gone limp now in your blissed out delirium— eyes rolled to the back of your empty skull letting your best friend and boyfriend knock every screw you have totally loose before he’s laying himself flat on top of you, body weight luscious and crushing as he’s molding the hard contours of his sweaty body against your soft ones.

There’s a bit of maneuvering but Riki manages to hook your legs even deeper over his shoulders— rocking his hips forward to hit somewhere deeper, tender, hotter and—

How you wail will leave his ears ringing for days.

Wet muscle of your sodden walls push and pull as liquid jets out of you with a force so strong you nearly blackout.

Ears ringing, the lack of oxygen doesn’t make the overwhelming euphoria any easier to deal with. Your moans are nothing short of feral. Visceral and gripping— hungry pussy leaving rings of sloppy cream around Riki’s cock and that’s the last he can take.

His consuming mouth is back on yours with a vengeance as his heart races, hips slamming into yours in a filthy rhythm. Even with his tongue down your throat, mouth suctioned to yours— carnally feral moans still bleed through, engorged cock throbbing violently inside the syrupy hole he’s shoved into when he lets go. Ballooning the condom inside you with how much he cums.

By the end of it, you’re floaty, sweaty and breathless and you’ve never felt better while he’s thinking about whether Blue Nile or Jared Jewelers has the better engagement rings. He also wonders if he should tell you before or after you catch your breath to tell you he’s not done with you yet.

He still remembers all that showing off you did the last time. Spreading yourself before winking your sloppy holes at him, begging him to fuck you dumb. It got him so bad he was taking consecutive cold showers for almost four days until he finally got a break between the team and classes to go shopping. Thoughts drifting to you while he was out on one of his rare days off when he remembered right there in the ramen isle: condoms + hot girlfriend who likes anal = endless opportunities.

He’s pretty sure he scared the cashier from how happy he looked buying 6 boxes of XL condoms with a starry grin on his face but honestly he was just happy he didn’t pop one in target. It was all worth it though because it got you to now— thoroughly enjoyed on his bedsheets.

The next couple minutes are heavenly as Riki loves all over you— soft lips and sumptuous kisses until you’re melty and pliant. Easing your legs down from his broad shoulders, Riki eases himself out of you to slip the rubber off and toss in the bin next to his nightstand. Laying fully on top of you and you purr— arms coiling around him in a soft embrace. Yet as pleasant as the moment is— Riki has to (affectionately) ruin it. Kissing your pulse point, he nips your ear, whispering lowly.

“Turn around…”

Huh? You look at him like he’s crazy. Brows furrowed in disbelief.

“I-“, you don’t even have the capacity to articulate properly. “I didn’t hear that.” Riki laughs, breathy and dangerous, sucking more hot kisses all over your jugular. You sigh to hide your moan, trying to at least look inconvenienced but your traitorous pussy clenches.

“You heard me the first time cause I’m not telling you again, baby— turn around.” Holy shit.

It’s no surprise that you find yourself on your knees, ass raised and back arched with your chest to the bedding. Behind you, Riki lets out a starved groan, looking at the wetness dripping off your everything deliciously. Like a reflex, he brings his hand down on the soft fat of your ass, biting his lip at the jiggle.

“So beautiful”, he whispers against the stinging skin. “Gonna fuck this hole so good…”

Your stomach drops to the chasming heat in your core. Riki eats up every little reaction you give him as your back arches when his fingers press against your asshole. Fingering at the wet, pink little pucker just above your stretched cunt, already dripping with the juices from your pussy— hole yielding perfectly beneath his fingers. Tiny and tight and eager.

Riki eyes it hungrily, cock pulsing when you ask nervously,

“Think it’ll fit?”

Oh, he knows it’ll fit. He’ll make it fit. You’re his mouthy little anal slut and he knows you’ll be begging for it like a bitch in heat so he pushes in a cum slick finger; right up to the knuckle, then another one, pulling them both apart so he can see your twitching wet insides. “So sexy,” he rumbles, a distinct heat rising in his neck. His entire body is on fire with the need to fully claim each one of your holes. He takes his time fingering you open, marvelling at how soft and gooey you are to the point where he has to know.

“Did you play with her today?”

You shake your head.

“Only prep— Just lube a-and my fingers— didn’t have time for toys”, your voice is wrecked from everything he put you through earlier but the hoarseness suits you, especially now.

“Mmm”, he murmurs, twisting his finger inside as he brings his thumb back to your clit, “Can’t go a day without something up here, huh?”

You gurgle incomprehensibly against pillows, eyes rolling and tongue going slack as Riki adds yet another finger. The arch in your back deepens; pushing out your ass begging to be filled with more than just fingers, even though you’d been screaming barely a few minutes before. “F-fuck me…”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He says it like that on purpose, cocking his head to the side and shoving his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, watching in delight as your asshole stretches around the intrusions, cunt quivering. “What do you want?” Oh that little jackass— he was going to make you say it. You knew he’d get you back for smart mouthing him earlier. However, your want to cum from your ass outweighs your pride.

“Fuck me, pleaseee Niki…”

Unable to hide his satisfaction, Niki smirks. “Tell me where you want it.” Hissing, he hooks both thumbs into your hole and stretches it open, spitting into it as if marking his territory. It’s dirty. Depraved. So why are you handing him another condom and spreading yourself for more?

Riki doesn’t make you wait any longer once the condoms on. With a feral groan, he directs his cock to your asshole and pushes in— the tight ring of muscle yielding under his force. The mouth watering blissful pain of something so big splitting you open shorts your brain as Riki sinks in with one long, deep thrust.

Distantly, you both remember that he’s the first person to get to do this to you. Possessiveness settles deep and crushing into his chest as he grips tighter. Deliriously, you feel so full with Riki’s cock in your ass that you melt. Moaning shakily with a mouthful of pillow.

“Ready f’me to fuck you stupid?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows what the answer is. Gripping your fat ass in both hands he draws out his cock, greasy and dripping in a mix of your juices, until only the head is spreading your deliciously raw hole open. Then he slams in, hard, sending the most gorgeous shriek rolling from your tongue. Body shaking with dry, heaving sobs— your insides flutter and clench impossibly tight.

“I’m gonna die,” your slurred keen drawls listlessly. Your mind fades. As soon as Riki’s cock had slid into you your brain had switched off; leaving you vulnerable to the most carnal sensations. Your body is trembling, burning—each organ churning and each bone rattling like trees in the wind. Fingers twitching weakly at the covers.

Gone.

You’ve been utterly and completely wiped blank.

With enough effort you might be able to go on with life after this, but you know it will never be the same. You’ll spend your days daydreaming about eternity in this moment. Reliving flashbacks until your body reacts and your knees go so weak with pleasure you almost collapse.

Niki rears over you, hips starting up an unforgiving pace. With each brute thrust you grow limper, melting like warm honey beneath his hands and it’s beautiful.

“Told you it’d fit,” Niki groans, feeling you choke his dick like a vice. “Told you it’d fit and now look at you”, he pants, “Loving it…”

He has you in the palm of his hand, perfect and sweet and hes pumping and thrusting— pounding until you’re dripping and destroyed and as succulent as ripe fruit ready to burst.

Gripping your hips, Riki bends himself over the your pliant form, once again using his weight to drive the full force of his thrusts deep into you; licking a rough, wet stripe from mid-spine to the nape of your neck. At the shift of angle you let out a weak scream, shoulders shuddering.

“Probably gonna cum too, yeah?”

You choke on something that doesn’t even sound whole, dripping messy rivulets of slick all over his balls.

“That’s what I thought…”

Muscles draw tight as he feels you cum beneath him. You cum on a scope so intense he half expects you to begin foaming at the mouth but all that spills from between your lips is thick, viscous drool. Your sweet face is contorted in pleasure, hair glowing and dishevelled, body shining and slick with sweat and cum as it thrashes. Soft hips hump back wildly on his cock, spraying that same liquid as before— drenching you both to the point where the bedding is soaked through.

A sound leaves you – some sort of sound – but it’s foreign to his ears; almost animal in nature, something inexplicably deep and primal. It’s a noise that sets his entire body alight, a deep rumble echoing in his bones.

“F-fuck, baby”, He’s so close. “Take it…”

Riki’s grip is iron as he fucks himself in the tight, sucking grip of your ass until release breaks through. Throwing his head back with a ruined groan, molten heat washes over him as holds himself deep inside you and cums. Heavy ball draw up tight as he releases load after load, flooding the condom to the point it’s leaking out the sides and dripping in thick white globs onto the unsalvageable sheets. It’s so good. You’re so good. Each tendon in his neck is taut, each vein pulsing against the skin. You cum again at the sensation, jerking weakly beneath Riki, half sobbing into the wet pillows pressed against your face.

The room is sweltering by the time you’re officially done. Consciousness dips in and out while you try to stay awake but it’s a swiftly losing battle. You can’t feel your legs or your back. Riki’s still nuzzling into the back of your shoulder blades until he notices how still you are.

Turning you gently onto your back, he takes one look at your face and decides he’ll tell you later you’re spending the night. Peppering soft kisses to your cheeks, he calls your name until your eyelids flutter back open and his heart soars in relief.

“Oh god there you are”, he’s like a big dog as he smooches wet kisses all over your face. “I thought I killed you.” A punched out wheeze slips free. You don’t even have the energy to muster sarcasm.

“I thought you were trying to.”

He at least has the decency to look sorry, hands massaging down your body to check— “Does anything hurt?” You shake your head slowly, another wave of dizziness hitting you before your eyes slip shut on his panicked expression.

•

•

•

When you finally wake up, you’re clean and dry on a soft surface that’s also dry in a huge shirt with a sizeable weight on top of you. Moving, a sharp twinge races up from your lower regions making you hiss. The sound alerts the one on top of you as your face is suddenly being held and you find very big, very guilty eyes staring back at you.

“Baby!” You feel bad for thinking how cute he is all worried like this. “I’m so sorry”, squirming on top of you, Niki is practically in your lap apologizing as he scoots back a breath to hand you a cold bottle of—

“Orange Gatorade?” He nods, kissing your forehead before nuzzling back into your neck.

“Yeah. It’s supposed to help with electrolytes and stuff.” The confused look doesn’t ease off your face so he continues,

“Y’know…since you lost a lot of flui—“, slapping a palm over his mouth you nod sharply.

“Yep. I get it.” He watches you expectantly and that’s when it clicks. He’s waiting for you to drink it now. Handing the bottle back so he can open it, you take a few sips, humming at the light taste before leaning up to kiss him, voice soft and soothing.

“It’s good. Thank you for taking care of me, Niki”.

Riki’s heart does that strange thing it does when he’s around you. Like it flips before bursting into a cloud of butterflies and he’s so glad you like him back like this. You scared him so bad when you just passed out— unresponsive no matter how many times he called your name and the only thing he had to soothe him were the deep, rhythmic rises of your breathing.

Your hands rake through his now clean hair as he tightens his hold around you, suddenly sleepy in the warmth of your company. His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable when he asks, pressing a similar tender kiss to the back of your other hand in his.

“Can we stay like this for a little bit?”

You nod but you can’t help but wonder…

How long should you date before you tell him that he’s welcome to stay forever?

| ❤︎⁠. A horrible, dastardly, diabolical, shameless and completely disgusting munch. To the point where you jump every time he texts you that he’s hungry because you don’t know how he means.

| ❤︎⁠. Hungry for actual food or your cum, sweat and tears?

| ❤︎⁠. You can’t pry him off and god forbid it’s one of the rare times he’s upset. He’ll stay between your thighs for hours— holding you down with his body while he hums and sucks and slurps at your cunny until you’re crying.

| ❤︎⁠. Large palms hold the fat of your ass, rocking you harder against his face, grinding your wet pussy hard against his tongue— swollen little clit bumping against his nose in desperate humps. Absolutely soaked, your essence coats his face. Dripping down his chin, the sides of his mouth, cheeks- everywhere- while Niki makes you use him to get off and it has him feeling better already.

| ❤︎⁠. “Oo- oooh!” You don’t think you can last much longer like this. Niki hotly slurps your clit into his mouth, sucking like it’s his favorite candy, dark eyes glossy and unfocused. Your moans pitch into a high scream- bordering on sobs, overstimulated and unfiltered.

| ❤︎⁠. He needs this. Needs you to keep being good for him while he licks your pretty pussy raw. He deserves it just as much as he deserved top spot in his class for that brilliant new programming theory he came up with.

| ❤︎⁠. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he works his mouth on you, his hand joins in. Thick fingers caress your slick, fist tight walls until he finds that spot that makes your voice crack, slipping in a third finger and fucking into that spot knuckle deep- over and over, suctioning his mouth over your clit to nurse it.

| ❤︎⁠. Don’t worry though, he’ll give you a break… flicking his tongue against your clit so hard it stings and you crumble.

| ❤︎⁠. …just as soon as he feels better.

| ❤︎⁠. Nerd!Niki who uses his size to his advantage. Doesn’t matter if you’re taller than him or close to his height— everyone is shorter on their back.

| ❤︎⁠. Nerd!Niki who’s a bit cocky, loving how wet you get for him. Knowing that he can make your pussy drool just by looking at you for too long gets him going everytime.

| ❤︎⁠. Nerd!Niki who puts his glasses on your face when he sucks you off because you’re such a squirter.

| ❤︎⁠. Nerd!Niki who explains the process your body goes through during orgasm while he’s balls deep inside you.

| ❤︎⁠. You’re dazed and gasping, mouth open with drool trailing down the side of your messy glossed lips and stuffed to the brim with his stupidly fat cock. Syrupy walls pulse and flutter and drip around him and he groans.

| ❤︎⁠. “F-fuck..”, he taps the underside of your chin to try to get the more coherent side of your attention. “Feels good, yeah?”, panting Niki smiles down at you, hips rolling deeper into you. “Spasming so much around me, t-thats because the brain activity i-in your limbic system and nucleus accumbens are all peaking right now, pretty.”

| ❤︎⁠. Whatever he just explained goes in one ear and out the other. The only part registering is that he called you pretty. You’re gone and he knows that but he keeps talking anyways.

| ❤︎⁠. “The hypothalamus acts as a trigger, releasing hormones and it happens when I stimulate the right nerves….like when I go—”, he pauses his explanation to give you a demonstration; angling your hips up so that the next thrust curves upwards. Swabbing that gooey spot that makes your brain leak out your hole at the same time he thumbs your twitchy clit.

| ❤︎⁠. “See?”

| ❤︎⁠. You’re a mess of gurgled moans, glazed eyes rolled back while he fucks you nice and deep, touching your clit indulgently until you cum like that—

| ❤︎⁠. —with your boyfriend rambling about increased sensitivity thanks to increased blood flow to your vagina causing engorgement and subsequently sensitivity of the clitoris and vagina.

| ❤︎⁠. When you come down, he explains with soothing fingers up and down your spine that it’s your parasympathetic nervous system that induces the lovely state of deep physical relaxation and a decrease in heart rate known as post orgasm bliss.

| ❤︎⁠. Nerd!Niki who isn’t used to being allowed to want and take gets used to the opposite concept with you.

| ❤︎⁠. It may also be the reason why he sometimes spits in your mouth right before his pillowy lips meet yours in a deep, searing kiss…

the first time he was exposed to the idea was when he was a young teenager alone in his room. he was playing an online game when he accidentally clicked a shady advertisement that brought him to another website—a hentai website. 

curious, adolescent, and horny, sunghoon clicked on a particular video that stood out to him. it was about a shapeshifter who fucked his lover, then got overstimulated and shifted into a big, heavy bear before biting off the head of the woman. that scene stuck and buried itself deep in the crevices of sunghoon’s mind.

how powerful, sunghoon thought; to love someone to the point of aggression.

from then, he began to believe that love is meant to be devoured and devouring. even the bible itself is full of consumption when it says—the holiest act of devotion is the ritual of eating the christ’s flesh, to drink his blood—because to love God is to consume him. 

love is consumption, and faith is flesh, and it is all intertwined. 

the boy also knew that in ancient greece, lovers would bite each other until they bled, which quickly became the proof of passion marked by bruised skin and torn lips. the king and queen of gods—rhea and cronus—were no strangers to hunger either. cronus swallowed his own 5 children whole as soon as rhea delivered them in fear that his newborns would one day overthrow him. there was also zeus, who swallowed metis for his own benefit—but sunghoon liked to think it was so that she could never leave him.

love was never gentle, and it was apparent in folklore too. sunghoon didn’t understand it back then why the witch fattened children before the feast, the vampire draining his lover dry, the wolf licking his sharp, fangy teeth before sinking it deep into the plush flesh of little red. 

but that was years ago, he was a child back then, he screamed and cried when his little sister bit his finger. sunghoon understood it now—love was to take. love was to consume. love was to destroy.