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ninisdollie · 12 days ago

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Like an angel - Lee Heeseung 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which Heeseung is obsessed with his sweet, innocent, shy sister’s best friend, and not in a healthy way.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x heeseung, age gap ( reader is 18+ heeseung is in his 20s), reader is hyper feminine, corruption kink, a bit of manipulation, reader is naive, dom! heeseung, masturbation (f and m), fingering, thigh grinding, dry humping, phone sex, dirty talking, virginity loss, unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, after care!!

word count: 13.8k

Warning: So this is my first “dark” themed fic, as I said it has corruption kink and heeseung is kind of a red flag in here, there is an age gap but both reader and heeseung are adults, and as always even if it is kind of a dark theme I must clarify that everything that happens is consensual.

Hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblog are appreciated !!

It was all harmless.

At least, that’s what Heeseung told himself when he’d catch his eyes following you around the house. It was innocent at first, curiosity, maybe. You were always there, practically glued to his sister’s side, her new best friend that had just moved to town for your first year of college, fluttering around the kitchen like a little innocent lamb in soft skirts and cotton knee socks, humming Taylor Swift songs and talking about 90’s romcoms, whispering secrets and giggling into your hands like life was nothing but sweet, soft cotton candy.

You were a good girl. The kind of girl who asked before taking the last slice of pizza. The kind who apologized when she bumped into furniture. The kind of girl that went to church with her parents every Sunday. The kind of girl that always said “Please” and “Thank you”. The kind of girl that blushed every time she saw a shirtless man in some tv add. The kind who still said “freaking” instead of swearing.

He shouldn’t have wanted you.

You were his sister’s best friend. You were younger. Inexperienced, naive. Pretty in a way that was accidental. The kind of pretty that didn’t even know it was driving him crazy. With your perfect hair, your perfect posture and your perfect body. Too polished, too perfect, too easy to ruin. And God, if there was one thing Heeseung had always been good at, it was self-control. He prided himself on it. But the thing about you was… you made it hard. Really fucking hard.

You were around too often. At first just after school, but then it turned into weekends. Study sessions, movie nights, sleepovers. You’d flit around his house in oversized sweaters and tiny shorts, and pink hair clips, leaving behind the soft scent of shampoo and vanilla lip gloss and something else that smelled like innocence and drove him crazy.

Heeseung would find himself in the doorway, watching you from the shadows like a man possessed. The curve of your thighs when you sat crisscrossed on the rug. The slope of your neck when you tilted your head to listen. The way you bit the tip of your straw when you were focused on homework. The way you batted your eyelashes. The way your perfect smile appeared on your beautiful lips when someone said something silly. The way you bent over to pet his dog saying “Aren’t you the cutest thing in the world?” All of it so innocent. So unaware.

And he hated you for it.

Or maybe he hated himself, for wanting to be the one to take it all away.

He told himself it would pass. That the obsession was just a phase, something he could shake off with enough cold showers and pornography and distraction. But it got worse. So much worse. Because you had a way of saying things, softly, like they didn’t mean anything, that drove him absolutely fucking wild.

Like one afternoon in the living room.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling on your hair like a halo. You were lounging on the couch beside his sister, legs tucked under your dress, fingers playing with the hem absentmindedly. The neckline was loose again, kept slipping off your shoulder like it wanted to tempt someone.

Heeseung leaned in the doorway, a drink in his hand and hell in his chest. Watching.

You were mid-conversation, talking in that dreamy, soft voice you always used when you were lost in thought, completely unaware of how dangerous your presence was.

“I just…” You hesitated, then let out a small, shy laugh. “I just don’t want it to be… rough, you know? Or rushed. I want someone who’s gonna take their time with me.”

His sister groaned.

“You’re too romantic. That stuff never happens in real life.”

You shrugged a little, pouting.

“But it should. Like… it’s kind of sacred, isn’t it? Giving yourself to someone? It should be with someone patient. Someone who wants to make it feel good. Not just… do it and leave.”

Heeseung’s fingers tightened so hard around the glass he was holding, he thought it might crack.

Your voice dropped a little, shy.

“And I know it’s probably gonna hurt at first. I’ve never even touched myself before. But if they’re gentle… I think it could be really special.”

His sister rolled her eyes.

“You sound like a nun.”

“I went to Catholic school!” you giggled.

And that was the worst part. You weren’t playing, you weren’t flirting. You were being honest.

You had no idea what your words were doing to him.

Heeseung swallowed thickly, his mind unraveling. Every syllable was like fuel on fire. If they’re gentle… if they take their time… if it doesn’t hurt.

He would be so good to you.

Not because he was good. But because you deserved softness even in your undoing.

He’d make you cry, but from pleasure. From overstimulation. From the way it would feel to finally be touched. He stared at you, jaw tight, breathing shallow, thoughts spiraling darker by the second.

You were too pure to understand. Too naive to know how badly someone like him could ruin you.

And still you kept talking, lips forming words like slow and careful and first time, with your legs tucked up in that little dress, skin glowing under the sunlight, and your voice all gentle like you didn’t just push him closer to the edge of insanity.

Heeseung turned away before he could do something stupid.

He’d take your purity. Your faith. Your wide-eyed, good girl trust.

And you’d thank him for it. Eventually.

Heeseung had always been patient. But with you?

He was starting to lose it.

You always liked Heeseung.

He was… sweet. That’s the word you always used to describe him when his name came up. Sweet in a quiet, almost grown-up way.

He didn’t talk as much as your other friends’ brothers. He wasn’t loud or annoying or rude. He never made fun of you the way some older boys did for being a little dumb and not knowing about sports or video games. Heeseung always just smiled at you gently, nodding when you greeted him, letting you pass through doorways first. He was respectful. Kind.

He made you a cup of warm milk once, when you couldn’t sleep during a sleepover. Brought it to you with honey and cookies, placed it right in your hands with a soft, “Don’t burn your tongue.” And your heart fluttered just a little. Because not many boys talked to you like that, gentle, patient, almost protective.

You chalked it up to him being older. More mature.

You liked being around him, even if you didn’t know him that well. There was something about his presence that made you feel… safe. Watched, maybe. But not in a bad way. You were never afraid of him. If anything, you liked when he looked at you. He had these eyes. Dark and deep and a little tired sometimes, like he didn’t sleep enough. But when they landed on you, you felt warm all over, like being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer. It made your cheeks burn, but you always looked away quickly, unsure if you were imagining it.

You didn’t think he really noticed you. Not like that.

Why would he?

You were… just you. Sweet, shy, quiet. Not bold or sexy like the girls you’d seen hanging around guys like him. You wore cardigans and ballet flats and tried not to say the wrong thing. You blushed too easily. You still slept with a ton of stuffed animals. You still wandered around at Miniso for too long and got excited about Sanrio blind boxes. You went to church and attended bible study. You liked sugary pop and romantic movies. And you believed—genuinely—that waiting for marriage was the right thing. Your parents had raised you that way, and you still held onto it, even when your friends laughed or called it old-fashioned.

It was something special. And you wanted to give it to someone who saw it that way too.

Sometimes—only sometimes—you’d wonder what Heeseung thought about things like that. If he was the kind of guy who’d understand. But then you’d shake the thought off, cheeks burning, because what were you even thinking? Heeseung was nice, sure, but he was also older. Experienced. And incredibly handsome, one of the most handsome boys you’d ever known. With his beautiful hair and that knee-dropping smile and he always smelled so manly and expensive. He probably dated girls who wore lingerie and knew what they were doing. Not girls like you.

Still… sometimes when you caught him looking at you, it made your stomach do this weird little flip.

Once, you dropped your lip gloss cap on the kitchen floor, and before you could bend to pick it up, he was already there, crouched in front of you, holding it out with two fingers and a soft little smirk.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “I know these are expensive”

Your face got so hot you had to excuse yourself. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

Because Heeseung was sweet. That was all. He was just nice to you.

He wasn’t expecting you to be there.

He’d just come back from a long afternoon playing soccer with his friends, sweaty, mildly irritated from traffic, and ready to collapse in his room. But the second he walked through the door, he heard the sliding glass door to the backyard open, followed by high-pitched laughter. His sister.

And then yours.

He paused in the hallway.

And when he looked through the kitchen window, when he saw you lying there in the sun like some kind of clueless daydream, all soft skin and sunkissed glow, he nearly dropped his keys.

You were wearing a bikini.

It wasn’t even that revealing, he could admit that. It was light blue, maybe a little frilly, definitely conservative by most standards. You weren’t trying to show anything off. You were stretched out on a towel beside his sister, sipping something cold through a straw, big sunglasses covering your eyes, your hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail that exposed the delicate line of your neck. The fabric clung to your chest, modest but tight. Your stomach was bare, soft, smooth, glowing in the late afternoon sun. Your legs stretched out forever, the curve of your thighs making his throat go dry. And when you shifted onto your side, he saw the way the bottoms hugged your hips and your ass and he had to grip the edge of the counter just to stay put.

Fuck.

You had no idea.You probably didn’t even think about him seeing you like that. You’d just smiled and slipped into your little bikini, completely unaware that you’d just become the centerpiece of every filthy thought he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

He watched the way you laughed at something his sister said, the way you tucked your legs beneath you and took another sip of your drink, lips wrapping around the straw like it was nothing. Like you weren’t killing him.

Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, you sat up and turned toward the house.

And you waved at him. Big smile. Sunglasses pushed up onto your head. Completely innocent.

“Oh, he’s here, hi Hee!”

He felt something snap in his chest.

He nodded, barely managing a stiff wave back before forcing himself away from the window. He stalked up the stairs to his room like a man on fire, slamming the door shut behind him and bracing his palms against it, chest heaving.

He could still see you. In his mind. Burned behind his eyelids. That soft stomach. That sweet, pretty smile. That perfect body he so wanted to ruin. Those lips wrapped around a straw like you didn’t even know what that did to him.

You were so fucking innocent. And he was losing it.

Heeseung shut his eyes, let his head fall back against the door, and pulled his pants down, his cock was already rock-hard beneath his boxers, and he wasted no time in stroking himself fast, desperate. He pictured you in his mind as his hand moved mercilessly, how you’d looked all bathed in his cum, how you’d look crying around him, how soft and warm and wet you’d feel around him, how he’d teach you, how a girl like you must be treated, and how you would say, with your velvet, sweet like honey voice “Thank you, Hee.”

He didn’t just wanted to ruin you, he wanted to own you. He wanted to take every last small piece of innocence from you until you were completely his. He wanted to hold you. For him to use whenever he wanted to.

He came on his hand incredibly hard, and embarrassingly fast, staining his jeans and the floor with his release. His chest heaving, your name still itching on his tongue.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s doing…”

But God, did he want to be the one to show you.

Later that same day, when you stepped into the kitchen that afternoon to get some water, wrapped in a towel over your damp bikini, and found him standing at the counter, you smiled.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here,” you said shyly, adjusting the towel at your chest.

He turned to you slowly, and his smile was warm. Soft. The kind that made your stomach feel a little fluttery.

“It’s your house too,” he said casually, gesturing toward the fridge. “Want me to get that for you?”

“Oh, it’s okay—”

But he was already moving, opening the door, grabbing a cold bottle and uncapping it before gently placing it in your hand.

“Hydration’s important,” he teased, tapping the top of the bottle before stepping back, letting you pass.

You giggled, tucking your chin down.

“Thank you.”

“You’re always so polite,” he said, still smiling, leaning against the counter now. “My sister could learn a thing or two from you.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. You ducked your head.

“I just… I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“You’re not,” he said. And then, quieter—“You never are.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. He wasn’t teasing. His voice was steady, sincere. His eyes met yours without flinching.

You took a sip of water to distract yourself, but your hands were a little shaky.

“You’re really sweet,” you blurted, before you could stop yourself. “I mean—you’re always so nice to me. I just… I notice.”

His mouth curved slowly into something that made your breath catch.

“I’m just being honest,” he said. “I think you deserve to have people be nice to you.”

There was something in the way he said it. Something that made your chest feel full and your skin feel warm.

“I’m really glad you’re around,” you whispered, more to your water bottle than to him.

And Heeseung’s gaze darkened, just for a split second, before it softened again.

“I’m glad you’re around too,” he said gently. “You’re… special.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. The way he said that word—special—like it meant something deeper. Like it mattered.

You didn’t know he was watching your every micro-expression. That behind the kind smile, his mind was already several steps ahead. That every sweet thing he said was planting seeds, pulling you closer, curling you around his finger one word at a time.

You just thought he was being kind.

You didn’t know he was planning to own you.

“I don’t know… he’s just so nice,” you murmured, voice soft, cheeks warm as your fingers toyed nervously with the edge of your sleeve. “He’s really… gentle.”

Across the room, his sister raised an eyebrow as she leaned closer to her mirror, applying a coat of lip gloss with practiced precision.

“…Heeseung?”

You nodded shyly.

“Yeah. I know it probably sounds dumb, but… he always opens doors for me. And he brings me stuff without me even asking. He’s just really… sweet.”

You didn’t see the way her expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face as she capped the gloss and turned toward you, arms crossed, hip resting against her dresser.

“I mean… he can be sweet,” she said, slowly. Carefully.

Your brows pinched.

“Can be?”

She shrugged, casual but a little too measured.

“He’s nice to you. That’s different.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, blinking.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then crossed the room and dropped beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her. Her expression wasn’t suspicious, not accusing. Just… protective. Like she knew something you didn’t, and wasn’t sure if she should say it.

“I love my brother,” she started, her voice lighter now, like she didn’t want to make this a big deal. “But Heeseung’s not exactly… boyfriend material.”

Your heart skipped.

“He’s always been kind of a flirt,” she continued. “Girls fall for him constantly, and… he lets them. He’s a playboy, he uses them and discards them. He’s broken like more than 20 hearts I’m pretty sure. Plus, he only dates extremely sexual girls, I used to hear them every night, it was traumatising.”

You stayed quiet. Your fingers stilled on your sleeve. There was a tightness in your chest you didn’t quite understand.

“But…” you said slowly, “I don’t think he’s like that with me.”

“No,” she agreed quickly. “He’s not.”

You looked up at her.

She gave you a small smile.

“Because you’re you. You’re not like the girls he usually talks to. You’re… innocent. You’re cute and soft and blush at Calvin Klein ads”

The word lingered in the air between you. Innocent. Like it meant something heavier than just naïve. Like it was a reason.

Your throat felt tight.

“So… you think he’s pretending?”

“I don’t think he’s evil,” she said with a sigh, leaning back on her palms. “I just think Heeseung knows how to get people to like him. He’s smart. Charming. And really good at making you feel… special.”

You swallowed, blinking down at the soft bedspread beneath your hands. Something about those words unsettled you. You weren’t sure if it was the warning in her tone or the echo of your own thoughts that scared you more.

Because Heeseung did make you feel special.

“He just…” Your voice was barely audible now. “He makes me feel safe.”

She let out a small laugh, that meant more than it let on.

“Yeah. That’s kind of his thing.”

You looked away, pretending to smooth the fabric on the bed, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, playing back all the soft smiles, the thoughtful gestures, the way his eyes always found you when you entered a room.

Maybe you were being stupid.

But maybe… it didn’t matter.

Because you were already falling.

Your parents were on a business trip that weekend so you spent over your best friends house, the perfect excuse for sleepover and watching movies until five a.m. But that afternoon your best friend had to go to cheerleading practice, you wanted to be a part of the team too, but your parents didn’t let you, saying that the skirts were too short and the dances inappropriate. So you stayed in her house, it wasn’t a big deal, you’d done it a few times before. But the thing his, her parents weren’t home either, too busy with work, and Heeseung was the only one at home.

He was still asleep, probably hangover from a party. So you made yourself a smoothie and sat on the couch with a Pride and Prejudice copy on your lap, enjoying the sunlit, quiet day.

It was like that for a couple of hours, and then he woke up.

Heeseung watched you from the hallway for a full minute before stepping inside.

You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, flipping through some paperback with a pink cover, all soft focus and innocence. Your hair was damp from a shower. Skin dewy. That same oversized hoodie still clinging to your thighs, his sister’s, probably, but it looked better on you.

And he saw an opportunity too.

He made sure to keep his steps light as he entered the room, careful not to startle you.

“Hey, angel,” he said, low and gentle.

You looked up and smiled immediately, same sweetness as always. His eyes were a little baggy, his face a little red and his hair messy, he was wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, and he still looked so handsome. Even after a probably wild night.

“Hi, Hee.”

He said your name next, soft and drawn out. Like it was something he could taste.

You straightened a little, even though your posture was always perfect.

“You want the couch?”

“No,” he said, already settling beside you. “Just wanted to sit with you.”

You flushed at that. He noticed.

He always noticed.

He didn’t look at you right away. He leaned back, spreading his legs slightly, letting the silence stretch while you tried to focus on your book again. He could feel the heat from your thigh next to his, and every so often, your knee would brush his leg as you shifted.

After a few minutes, he let himself sigh. Low. Tired. Like he needed something.

You glanced at him.

“Rough night?” you asked, a bit teasing.

“Just long, had too many drinks, my heads spinning” he replied, then tilted his head toward you, eyes half-lidded. “But this helps.”

You blinked.

“Me?”

He nodded, slow.

“Yeah. You’re easy to be around. You make things quiet.”

That made you smile shyly, and he reached out—carefully—to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched. Just a little.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, voice so low almost like a whisper“I don’t think you even know what you do to people.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he backtracked with a soft chuckle, tapping the book in your lap.

“I mean that in a good way,” he added. “You just… calm people. Make them feel safe.”

You laughed softly, clearly flustered.

“That’s a nice thing to say.”

Heeseung hummed, and then, slowly—so slowly—he rested his hand on your bare knee.

You didn’t move. You didn’t say anything.

It was barely a touch. Just his palm resting there. Heavy, warm and possessive. You looked down at it, lips parted slightly, as if you weren’t sure what to think. But you didn’t pull away. You just blinked at him.

And he smiled.

“You’re okay with this, right?” he asked, voice velvet. “Just friends being close?”

You nodded, a little too quickly.

“Yeah… I don’t mind.”

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even realize he’d done it on purpose. That the contact had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with pushing you one step closer to breaking.

His thumb stroked a lazy circle against your skin, and you felt it jump, every pore awake and too aware of his touch. No man had ever even touched your thigh like this, you wouldn’t have let them.

You squirmed slightly, then tucked your legs closer beneath you, but not away from him.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, face still red, eyes a little glassy.

Heeseung leaned in then, barely an inch. Just enough to let his breath brush your cheek.

“So are you,” he whispered.

Your lashes fluttered, and you swallowed hard, he was so close. Then he looked away and lazily grabbed the tv remote, but his hand didn’t leave your knee.

You tried to focus again on the words written on the pages and the conflicts between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, but you couldn’t. Because Heeseung kept touching you, even with his eyes glued to the basketball game on the tv.

He knew you wouldn’t ask him to move. So he pushed further. His fingers wandered, innocent at first, trailing along the hem of your shorts like he wasn’t doing anything at all. Like it wasn’t deliberate. Like it didn’t make your stomach twist in knots.

You stiffened when his pinky slipped beneath the fabric, resting against the bare skin of your inner thigh.

Still, he didn’t look at you. Not once. Not even when your breath caught or when your hips shifted the tiniest bit, involuntary. He just kept watching the game, one leg spread comfortably, like this was nothing new to him.

"You’re quiet,” he murmured after a minute, tongue wetting his lips slowly. “Something wrong?”

You blinked at the book in your lap, realizing you hadn’t flipped a page in ten minutes.

“No. I’m just… distracted.”

“Hm,” he hummed, his thumb now tracing lazy circles higher, barely grazing the sensitive skin that hadn’t been touched before. “You’re tense.”

You swallowed, shaking a bit.

“A little.”

“Don’t be,” Heeseung said, finally glancing at you with a calm, unreadable expression. “This is normal.”

Your brows pulled together.

“Normal?”

He nodded, his touch still featherlight, maddening.

“Yeah. Between friends. Friends touch like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, your best friend’s brother. Who always sat too close. Who looked at you too long. Who never touched you like this until today.

“Oh…” you said softly, chewing your lip. You hadn’t heard that before, but he sounded so sure. So calm. You didn’t want to seem weird or make it awkward. “Okay…”

His hand stayed there, warm and steady. His touch even gentler now, but it felt deeper. Like it was sinking into your skin, curling around your bones.

You shifted a little. Your thighs pressed together, but you didn’t move his hand.

Because even if you didn’t fully understand what was happening…

You liked it. More than you should.

And Heeseung could tell.

That’s why he leaned in closer, breath brushing your ear as he said quietly,

“See? Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t answer him, but he could see it, in the way your lashes lowered, in the way your legs shifted just slightly, pressing together under his hand.

Heeseung smiled to himself.

“Feels good, right?” he murmured again, voice soft like he was talking you through something. “I told you. We are friends, we can be close like this.”

Your cheeks were burning now, but you still nodded. Slowly.

“Y-Yeah…”

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, barely above a whisper, and your stomach flipped. You didn’t know why that made you feel warm all over, but it did. Like honey spreading beneath your skin. Like heat blooming where his fingers rested. A sensation that you had only felt a very few times before when you accidentally opened an explicit link on the internet or when an intimate scene came by in a romance movie.

And then he moved.

Just a little. His hand inched up, fingers slipping further under the leg of your shorts. Still calm, still slow, like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t now brushing the softest, most sensitive part of your thigh. His knuckles grazed the edge of your underwear, against the lace of your white panties.

You inhaled sharply.

But Heeseung only tilted his head, glancing at you with those calm, dark eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, tone so gentle. So sweet.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your book.

“I—I think so…”

He nodded like that was the right answer.

“You’re being really good. I’m proud of you.”

You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling faster now.

“Really…?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and his fingers dipped lower, just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to give you anything. “You’re letting me take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?”

You bit your lip, trembling just slightly.

“I guess so…”

“You don’t have to think so hard,” he whispered, leaning in so close you could feel the smile in his voice. “Just let me do it for you. Let me make you feel good.”

You didn’t even notice your thighs falling open a little more. Like your body itself was responding to him. His smile deepened, just a twitch at the corner of his lips, barely there, but sharp. Like he was proud of himself. Proud of you.

"See?" he said, voice quiet and warm. "You’re relaxing already."

You nodded again, just to please him. Your brain was starting to blur around the edges, it was too much. His hand, his voice, the heat pulsing between your legs like it was begging him to go further.

Without warning, his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties, knuckles grazing over soft, untouched skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips flinching.

But he didn’t stop. Just kept going. Slowly. Carefully.

Like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Like this was routine.

Your whole body felt like it had been lit from the inside.

Heeseung’s fingers were slow, steady, gliding through your wetness, between your untouched folds, circling your clit with maddening patience. Every little movement sent electric shocks down your legs, curling your toes, making your stomach twist and tighten with something you didn’t know how to name.

You felt raw, sensitive. Ruined.

“Shhh,” he hushed gently, like he was calming you from a nightmare, not dragging you into the most sinful thing you’d ever felt. “It’s okay. It’s going to feel so nice, babygirl, I promise.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp. You were so warm, too warm, your thighs twitching every time he brushed just right, you kept whimpering and letting out little sighs. Your knees had started to fall open for him without you realizing, your body seeking more without permission.

“You’re wet, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice low and full of something darker. His lips brushed your cheek, but his fingers brushed lower. “Is that for me?”

You whimpered, heart pounding. You felt humiliated, but you didn’t want him to stop. It was something you’d never felt before.

“I-I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” he said, firmer this time. And he pressed in deeper, one finger sliding slick and slow through you before circling your clit again, just soft enough to leave you aching.

Your legs jerked as you cried out. Your book slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a thud. But neither of you looked down.

Heeseung chuckled under his breath, mocking but sweet and kissed your cheek again.

“So cute.”

You were blinking rapidly, face flushed, skin hot all over.

This wasn’t what friends did. You’d never even imagined something like this, never touched yourself, never let anyone else touch you. You told yourself you were saving it. Waiting for marriage. But this… this didn’t feel like sin.

It felt like need.

“Is this really okay?” you asked, your voice a tiny breath.

Heeseung smiled against your skin.

“It is if you let me.”

And you did. Your hips tilted forward, small, instinctive, still not fully understanding what was happening and his brain snapped a little at the sight.

God, he’d waited so long.

Heeseung had thought about this more nights than he’d ever admit. Always quietly, always respectfully. He never wanted to scare you, not his sweet, shy girl with her soft laugh and her trembling hands. He never even touched you wrong.

But now that you were here, legs spread for him, cheeks red and mouth open, soaking his fingers, he didn’t think he’d survive letting go.

His thumb pressed a little harder, and you cried out, hips stuttering up into his hand. You were so responsive. So sensitive. Your body was practically begging.

“You feel that?” he murmured, brushing against your clit again and again. “That’s your body asking for more.”

You whimpered again. Your legs were shaking. You didn’t even realize how much your hips were grinding into his hand, only that it felt like bliss.

“Feels too good to stop now, doesn’t it?” Heeseung whispered.

You nodded, dazed, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from sheer overload. From the combination of embarrassment and arousal.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said gently, like a promise. “Just let me make you feel good, baby. That’s all I want.”

Then his voice dipped, low and soft and dangerous:

“Been wanting this for so long… Wanting you like this. Spread out, sweet, dripping for me.”

You gasped, face crumbling, thighs twitching again as the pressure in your belly spiked.

Heeseung groaned, the sound rough and low in his throat. Then he slipped two fingers inside of you, and it burned so good. You felt yourself clench around him, soaked walls around his digits as he twisted his wrist and curled them inside of you touching something that made you cry again and jerk your hips up from the couch.

“There it is, look at you. So fucking beautiful like this. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

Between your hazy view you saw it, saw him. The bulge against the cotton of his sweatpants, thick and big and pulsing. But it was too much, your face became all red again and you closed your eyes again.

“I shouldn’t…” you whispered, more to yourself than him. Overwhelmed by the obscene sound coming out of you everytime his palm slammed against your pussy. Your eyes blinked through the haze, guilt pooling in your throat. “I—I’ve never even—”

Heeseung leaned in again, so warm and calm, like none of this fazed him. His free hand stroked your cheek gently, thumb brushing under your eye.

“I know,” he said softly, like he understood everything. “You’re a good girl. You wanted to be careful.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. His voice, his fingers, the way he looked at you like you were something precious even while his touch made your head spin, it made your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once.

His fingers pushed in deeper, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch of it. Your back arched without thinking, your breath coming in soft, broken gasps. You could feel yourself dripping until you were soaking the couch beneath you.

“Oh, baby…” Heeseung cooed, the pad of his thumb still rubbing gentle circles over your clit. “You’re clenching so tight. Didn’t know you could feel this good, did you?”

You shook your head, face burning. Your thighs were twitching, your hips rolling into his hand like your body couldn’t help it.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, so soft it made your head spin. “That’s what I’m here for. To teach you. Help you. Good girls like you deserve to feel this good”

Another finger slipped in beside the first two, your walls stretching around him. Your jaw dropped, a helpless little moan spilling out, and he groaned, so quiet, but filthy.

“Shit. Listen to you. Didn’t even touch you like this before and already making those pretty noises,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapped around sin. “So fucking sweet for me.”

You tried to cover your mouth, shame flooding through you, but he caught your wrist instantly, guiding it down.

“Don’t hide,” he said gently. “I like hearing you. That’s the whole point, baby. You’re doing so well.”

His fingers curled just right, pressing into that soft, spongy spot again, that made your legs jerk and a loud gasp break free from your throat. Your body was shaking now, breath ragged, and Heeseung only smiled, watching you unravel.

White heat bloomed low in your belly. Your breath came in short, choppy bursts, each one catching on the edge of a whimper. You couldn’t keep still, your hips were rocking up without permission, chasing the next touch, the next wave. You could feel yourself getting wetter, slick dripping down the backs of your thighs, sticking to your skin.

It was shameless. But you couldn’t care. You weren’t even thinking anymore. Not with the way he kept touching you like he’d done it a thousand times before, like he knew how to wring every little cry out of you.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear like silk. “Letting someone take care of you like this?”

You nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth parted around a breathless gasp. Your hands gripped the couch cushion for something to anchor you, but it didn’t help. Everything felt like it was slipping, your thoughts, your morals, your control.

His fingers moved again, curling slow and deep, then sliding up to stroke over your clit with maddening tenderness.

Your back arched hard. You let out something between a sob and a moan.

Your body was buzzing, heat pulsing under your skin, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Your nipples were tight, pressed against the fabric of your hoodie, overly sensitive even without being touched. You couldn’t even close your legs, your thighs trembled too much, weak and twitching, falling open for him again and again.

You were so close to something. So close it hurt.

And Heeseung just watched, mouth parted slightly, eyes dark, like he was watching his favorite thing in the world unfold.

“Look at you,” he murmured, thumb rolling lazy circles over your clit. “Falling apart so easy for me. You like this, baby?”

You whimpered.

“Y-Yeah… I can’t— it’s— it’s too—”

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, down the side of your neck.

“You can. I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice dripping with affection. “Just let it happen. Let me make you feel good.”

The pressure broke all at once.

You came with a cry, thighs snapping shut around his hand, body seizing and twitching. Your nails dug into the cushion, into his shoulder, whatever you could grab. It hit you hard, like heat and lightning bursting in your chest and spreading through your limbs.

You couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop trembling. You were sobbing quietly now, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How full. How perfect.

Heeseung held you through it, one arm wrapped around your back, the other between your legs, stroking you through every aftershock like he wanted to memorize the way you pulsed around his fingers.

You collapsed against him, body limp and slick with sweat.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, softer this time. “So perfect, sweetheart. So, so good.”

Heeseung settled between your legs, like a painter admiring his masterpiece, dragging your ruined panties down slowly, almost reverently. You squirmed a little bit, too sensitive, too gone. Your mind wasn’t working anymore, you felt ashamed, used, but also you felt released. Your chest was still heaving, still trying to catch your breath, your pussy pulsing and dripping.

“Look at this mess,” he murmured, holding the fabric up, sticky and soaked. “You came so hard, baby. All over my fingers. Didn’t even know your little pussy could do that, did you?”

You let out a choked gasp, hands flying up to cover your face.

He chuckled softly, spreading your thighs again.

“Uh-uh. No hiding. I made you feel good, didn’t I?”

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice, still dizzy from how hard you'd come.

“Yeah?” He smiled, almost smug but still so sweet. “Then how do good girls respond when someone makes them feel good?”

You swallowed, heart skipping. His fingers brushed your inner thigh again, featherlight, reminding you who was in control. You hesitated, lips parting.

He clicked his tongue.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You can say it.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“...Thank you.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, his thumb stroking your skin with approval.

“There she is,” he said, praising you with a soft kiss to your cheek. “My good girl.”

Your cheeks burned hotter than ever. You were dripping, legs wide open with nothing to shield you but your shaking hands, and Heeseung just looked so calm. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like seeing you like this was normal.

“I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your knee. “And already got you shy? Poor thing… You’re so fucking cute when you’re embarrassed.”

You whimpered behind your hands, thighs instinctively trying to close, but his palms held them open, firm but still gentle.

Then your phone buzzed somewhere on the couch.

You jolted, startled, blinking through the haze. Heeseung didn’t even flinch, just slid his hands up your thighs a little higher, thumbs brushing teasingly close again.

“I-I think that’s—” you tried to sit up, but he gently pushed you back down with a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Check it,” he said smoothly, but his eyes never left your soaked cunt.

Your fingers fumbled for the phone, brain still barely catching up, vision blurry as you unlocked it.

Bestie : omw back home now! be there in 10 🫶

Your heart nearly stopped.

“She’s coming back,” you gasped, sitting up fully now, panic blooming in your chest. “Heeseung, we have to—”

“Relax, angel” His voice was calm. Dangerous. Sweet.

He leaned in again, dragging his tongue slowly, deliberately, up your soaked folds. You cried out, half-shoving your phone aside as your body betrayed you, hips bucking into his mouth.

“She won’t be here for another ten,” he murmured, licking his lips like he was tasting something divine. “That’s enough time for me to make you come again.”

“But—”

“You’re already dripping,” he said, cutting you off with a filthy grin, fingers slipping back through your slick folds. “She’s not even here yet, and you’re still wide open for me. You want me to finish, don’t you?”

You whimpered, helpless.

“I-I don’t know if I can—”

“Oh, you can,” he said, and kissed your trembling thigh again, right beside the spot where his fingers were teasing you.

His thumb pressed against your clit just as two fingers slipped in again, easily this time, your soaked walls clenching down immediately.

Heeseung groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck. Still so tight.” He looked up at you, mouth wet, eyes dark with something wicked. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

You let out a soft cry, body arching into his touch.

And still, his voice was gentle. Loving.

“I’m gonna make you come again, sweetheart,” he whispered, thumb circling your clit faster now. “Nice and quick, right here on the couch, before she walks in and sees what a needy little mess you are for me.”

You were already close again. Too sensitive, too worked up, but it didn’t matter. Not with the way he was touching you. Not with how good he made it feel.

You could barely form a thought, let alone protest.

Your best friend would be home in minutes. But all you could think about was the burn in your belly, the ache between your legs, and her brother’s fingers stretching you open like they belonged there.

It had been a few days, and you couldn’t sleep.

You turned over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time, blankets twisted around your legs, skin damp from heat that had nothing to do with the weather. The open window let in a soft breeze, cool against your flushed skin, but it did nothing to calm you. You were too aware of your body. Too aware of the empty ache between your legs. Of what had happened.

And worse, how much you still wanted it to happen again.

Your phone sat face down on the nightstand. Quiet. Still. But you felt it like it was burning a hole beside you. Your best friend had texted earlier. A casual “You didn’t come over this weekend” with a sad face emoji that you couldn’t bring yourself to open.

You were supposed to wait.

You had told yourself that a hundred times. That no one would get to touch you like that, not unless you were in love. Not unless it was forever. You hadn’t even touched yourself before. That part of you was supposed to be sacred. Untouched. Yours.

And now?

Now you could still feel the echo of him between your thighs. His voice, low and sweet, telling you how good you were. How wet, how tight. You could still feel his fingers, slow and patient and deep, pushing you over the edge until you broke apart in his hands.

Your body ached at the memory, hot, needy, restless.

You pulled your knees up and pressed your thighs together, trying to fight it. But it was impossible. Everything throbbed. Everything missed him.

Tears pricked your eyes.

You hadn’t cried yet, not after it happened. You’d felt too dizzy, too shocked. But now, days later, it was crashing down all at once. The guilt. The shame. The confusing, gnawing want.

You wiped at your face, then hesitated. Your hand froze against your cheek.

You wanted to try.

Just once.

You bit your lip, heart hammering. You slid your fingers down slowly, uncertainly. Every part of you trembled. It felt wrong. But your body was already warm, already wet, as if it remembered what to expect. Your fingers grazed over your folds. Tentative, barely there.

You let out a breath, shaky, embarrassed. It didn’t feel bad, but it wasn’t right, either. It wasn’t him.

You tried again. Pressed down more, tried to mimic the slow circles Heeseung had made against your clit. Your legs twitched. Your stomach tensed. But the pleasure didn’t bloom, it stalled, stuck behind shame and frustration.

Heeseung had made you melt with nothing but his hands and a few filthy words. You couldn’t even make yourself moan.

Your hand fell away.

You turned your face into your pillow and finally let yourself cry.

You hated that he had that power now. That your body only responded to his touch, his voice, his praise.

You felt dirty. Ruined. A part of you wanted to scrub yourself clean, erase every second of that afternoon on the couch. But another part, the darker, hungrier part, wanted him back between your legs. Whispering in your ear. Telling you how good you were when you couldn’t even think straight.

You curled up tighter under the blankets, fingers trembling, your thighs still sticky and warm with need. You had never felt so empty.

And it terrified you to realize:

You didn’t want to be pure anymore.

You just wanted him.

Heeseung wasn’t going to stop now. No, he waited so long for this, and since he broke you only with his fingers, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. It was worse than before. Maybe it was wrong, maybe he shouldn’t be using you like this, but the worst part of all, is that he knew that you would fall apart the next time he put his hands on you, that you won’t stop him, because thing with innocent, pure girls like you, is that once you tasted a bit of sin, you would become addict.

You’d been quieter than before, this weekend you were staying over again, and you had been avoiding eye contact all day, just shyly munching on a pizza slice while his sister talked about some school drama, and every time your gaze locked with his for even just a few little seconds, you blushed and looked away instantly.

But he noticed.

The way you were clenching your thighs together under the table, the way you were nervously biting your lip until it was red and swollen, the way your eyes turned glassy.

You wanted more, you were just too shy to admit.

So he was going to push.

That’s why, later that night when you walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water in the middle of the night, he was already there.

You froze in the doorway.

The kitchen light was off, but the fridge door was open, the dim white glow across the room. Heeseung stood in front of it, shirtless, the lines of his back and shoulders lit in sharp contrast, shadows painting him like something unreal. He turned his head just slightly, already knowing it was you.

“Couldn’t sleep, angel?” His voice was quiet, low.

You hesitated. Your bare feet curled against the cold tile.

“...Just thirsty.”

Heeseung turned around slowly, closing the fridge door with one hand. In the silence that followed, your pulse pounded in your ears. He was so close. The kitchen was so small. You could smell his skin, clean, warm, manly. Him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, voice calm. Almost teasing. “I’m hurt.”

You almost stopped breathing.

“I haven’t—”

“You have.” He smiled a little, tilting his head. “Barely looked at me all day. Not even when I sat next to you. Not even when I cut a slice of pizza for you.”

Your eyes dropped instantly, heart fluttering like it always did when he spoke like that, low and sure, like he already knew what you were thinking.

“I was just... distracted” you said weakly.

He didn’t buy it.

“Is that why you’re walking around with those pretty thighs clenched tight all day?” He moved closer, so close your back bumped the edge of the counter. His hand came up, just ghosting your arm. “That why you haven’t said a word to me since I made you cum like a good girl?”

Your breath shuddered out of you.

“Heeseung…”

“I think you want more,” he murmured, voice dropping just for you. “But you’re too shy to ask.”

Your skin lit up everywhere he hovered. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t speak, because it was true. You’d been thinking about it since it happened, his touch, his voice, the way he made you feel like you were unraveling just from his fingers. You tried not to want it again. Tried to forget.

But your body hadn’t forgotten.

Heeseung leaned in, one hand resting beside your head on the counter, boxing you in.

“I bet you even tried to touch yourself, didn’t you?”

You inhaled sharply.

“I bet it didn’t work,” he continued, brushing his nose against your temple. “I bet you got frustrated and teary, all needy and messy, because it wasn’t me.”

You felt the air leave your lungs.

“How’d you feel, baby?” he whispered. “All alone in your bed, fingers not doing what you needed? Thinking about me instead?”

You let out a small, wrecked sound, and he smirked.

“I knew it,” he said, dragging one finger slowly down your bare arm. “You were so good before, so pure”

His hand trailed down your side, until it rested just above your hip, warm and sure.

“And the worst part?” he said, leaning in closer until his lips brushed your jaw. “You like it.”

Heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth, just once.

“So... do you want me to make you feel good again?”

You nodded, tiny, helpless, breathless.

“Use your words,” he said, thumb stroking your hip, patient but demanding.

“I… I want it,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” His voice was a low hum, pleased and dangerous. “Say please.”

You looked up at him then, eyes shiny and teary and full of shame and need.

“Please.”

Heeseung grinned, eyes dark.

“Good girl.”

That's how you ended up in his room, only in your tiny laced panties, on top of him trying to respond to the messy kiss he was giving to you. It was a mess of tongues and saliva, no one had ever kissed you like this before, like he wanted to devour you and own you, but you liked it, liked the feeling of his warm lips against yours, not giving but taking.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with amusement. “Didn’t even touch you yet.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned down, lips brushing your jaw.

“Tell me you missed it,” he whispered.

You hesitated, eyes wide, hands gripping his shoulders, trembling. But you couldn’t lie. Not when your body was practically begging.

“I… I missed it.”

Heeseung smiled against your neck.

“Good girl.”

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to stop him. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. Not when your body remembered the way he made you feel, how his voice made you melt, how he knew exactly where to touch, how it felt to be undone by someone you blindly trusted too much.

You whimpered and your thighs tried to close, but he was already between them, already pressing open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Another small, pathetic sound left your throat when his tongue circled around your hardened nipples, so sensitive, a jolt of pleasure going through your whole body.

“Say it,” he demanded gently. “Tell me who you need.”

“You,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I-I need you.”

His grin turned wicked.

“That’s right. That's my good girl."

He kissed his way lower, letting his hands spread your thighs wide again. The heat between your legs throbbed, slick with anticipation. He groaned softly at the sight.

“My messy girl," he murmured, running a teasing finger through your folds. “You’re soaked already. Just for me.”

You moaned, body arching, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound. But Heeseung wasn’t having that.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded, gently prying your hands away. “You don’t get to hide from me. Not anymore.”

He shifted, guiding you up gently so you were straddling his thigh. His large hands gripped your waist, coaxing you forward until the heat of your core was pressed firmly against the muscle of his leg.

"You missed me this much, baby? You want to feel good again?" his voice was sweet but low and there was small hint of mocking in it, but you didn't care, you were so needy, you wanted to feel it again.

So you just nodded, shamelessly, eyes starting to water.

Then he smiled and gripped your hips, making you grind against his thigh. A shiver went down your spine, a flick of pleasure pulsing in your soaked intimacy, and you moaned, high-pitched and aching.

"Just like that,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your breath stuttered, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance. You’d never done anything like this—never even thought you could—but Heeseung’s steady grip and the heat in his gaze made you feel brave. Safe. He moved your hips slowly for you, rocking you back and forth against the firm muscle of his thigh. The friction sent sparks flying through you, and your head dropped against his chest with a whimper.

“Feel that?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s it. So good for me. Look at how well you listen.”

Your thighs were trembling, slick pooling between them, as his thigh flexed beneath you. Every roll of your hips pulled another whimper from your lips. The pressure was dizzying, just the right angle, like he knew what your body craved before you did. Every nerve in your body was on fire. You couldn’t even talk, couldn’t think. You were just mumbling nonsense, incoherent “I-It feels so good - so good” “I’ve never…” “Oh my god!”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, guiding you faster now. “Look at you, making a mess all over me.”

Heeseung watched you with dark, hungry eyes, eyes that soaked in every twitch, every moan, every clench of your thighs. You looked ruined and perfect, and he loved it. Loved that he was the one making you fall apart like this.

“Come for me like this,” he whispered, voice rough with want. “I want to feel you fall apart right here, sweet girl.”

Your body shook, every nerve lit up as your release hit, clenching helplessly around nothing, your slick soaking his skin. You whimpered into his shoulder, tears spilling over your cheeks from the intensity of it all. Your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears, your body wrung out and trembling.

But Heeseung wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Shh, don’t think,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you slow and lazy through the aftershocks. “You don’t need to think when you’re with me. Just be my good girl. Let me take care of everything.”

He tilted your chin up, made you meet his eyes through your haze.

“Forget all that other stuff,” he whispered. “Your rules, your guilt. Doesn’t matter right now. You were made to feel good like this. You deserve this.”

He kissed you, slow and sweet, before adding with a low, filthy murmur:

“Now be a good girl and get dumb for me. Let me make you feel even better.”

And with your body pliant against his, still trembling from the high he gave you, you knew you would.

He was ruining you. Not even in a painful, mean way.

In a soft, slow, dangerous way.

You were once an innocent, shy girl. A girl that blushed at the slightest mention of sex, a girl that was scared of raising her voice. Maybe you still were like that, at least on the outside. But inside? You had become a mess of need. A thing that belonged to his voice, his hands, the memory of his touch on your body. Nothing else could reach you now. Nothing else could make you feel whole.

He kissed you like he owned you, made you grind on his thigh until you were shaking and soaked, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. And afterward, when you collapsed against his chest, still trembling, he cupped your jaw and whispered:

"I made you feel good, baby. And how do good girls say thank you?"

You didn’t know how to say it at first, too shy, too dizzy. So he kissed you again until you mumbled it through a moan “T-Thank you, Hee, thank you…” and he smiled like he'd just won a game.

It only got worse from there.

Late at night, you’d lie alone in bed, panties pushed to the side, phone pressed to your ear with tears pricking your eyes because it didn’t work. Not without him.

"That's it, angel," he’d murmur, voice low and thick through the speaker, probably touching himself too.”Do it how I taught you. Two fingers. Not too fast. Pretend it's me."

You’d whimper, thighs shaking, pillow soaked under your cheek. He always knew exactly what to say to make you fall apart.

Then you started sneaking out. You’d wait until his sister was asleep beside you, breathing soft and even, before slipping out of bed in your oversized shirt and bare legs. You’d tiptoe down the hallway, heart pounding, to knock once on his door. He never made you wait long. He was always ready, leaning in the doorway with lazy eyes and bare chest, tugging you inside with one hand on your waist.

Some nights he didn’t even undress you. Just lifted your shirt and kissed your thighs, mouthing at the fabric of your panties until they were soaked through, whispering, “My angel, so needy for me, huh? Couldn’t even sleep without feeling me?”

Other nights, he sat on the bed, pulled you onto his lap, and made you grind against the bulge in his boxers until you were shaking, clinging to his shoulders, panting into his neck.

Sometimes, he didn’t touch you at all. Sometimes, he just kissed you. Slow, deep, messy kisses that made your legs tremble and your core ache, kisses that left you gasping for air and begging for more. He’d pull away with a smug grin, stroking your cheek. "Poor baby," he’d whisper, thumb brushing your wet lips. "So addicted to me, aren’t you?”

You stopped paying attention in class, you stopped listening to his sisters chatter, you stopped listening to the priests words. Everything in your mind was him, and you couldn’t wait for the next time he touched you. It was so embarrassing, sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night after dreaming about him, eyes glassy and panties soaked, your core pulsing full with need but you were too shy to call him so you’d cry yourself to sleep until the pain went away. And when that time came, where he finally touched you again, you melted the right second his hands slipped between your legs.

Your body wasn’t yours anymore, it was his.

You stopped wearing panties around the house, you knocked on his bedroom door like a habit. Every time you felt empty, every time you needed him, he was there, whispering in your ear:

"That’s my girl. So needy all the time, aren’t you? You can’t help it. I’ve ruined you.”

And that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part, you were falling in love with him.

It didn’t happen all at once.

At first, it was just about the way he made you feel. That overwhelming pleasure. The way he knew your body better than you did. The way he spoke to you, praised you, touched you like you were made just for him.

But then it crept in, quiet and slow, the way real feelings always do. It was in the way your heart started skipping when you saw his name light up your phone. In the way you lingered in his room a little longer after he made you come, hoping he’d ask you to stay. In the way you watched him when he wasn’t looking, memorizing the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the way his lashes curled when he blinked.

And it did hurt, a little bit. Because maybe you were naive and dreamy, but you knew, that deep down, he didn’t love you. At least not the way you wanted him to love you. He loved how obedient you were, how easy you made it for him. He loved the mess you made on his sheets, the way your voice shook when you begged. He loved owning you.

But that was it.

The thing is, you hadn’t done anything past touches and oral sex, but you knew, eventually, that you would beg for it, for him to take you completely, you were at the very edge, and you knew that, when that finally happened, you would be completely lost. And maybe you wanted to.

Maybe the idea of giving him that final part of yourself—your last piece of innocence—felt like the only way to truly belong to him.

Because you already belonged to him, didn’t you?

You were in his room again.

The door was shut, locked, you thought, but your mind was too hazy to be sure. You couldn’t think properly, couldn’t breathe without hiccuping on the moans slipping past your lips. Your thighs trembled as he moved his fingers inside of you, thumb moving lazily over your swollen clit, whimpering and gasping for air when he curled them inside of you against your soaked walls, eyes full of tears, face all flushed.

It was the third one.

“Hee” you whimpered, voice cracking, shame burning hot in your chest. “I-I can’t— it’s too—”

“You can,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Look how wet you are—fuck. So tight, too.”

You shook your head before you could stop yourself, tears collecting at the corners of your lashes. He groaned low in his throat like it turned him on even more, curling his fingers just right inside you again, hitting that spot that made your legs kick, that made your hips lift without your permission.

“You're so sweet, so fucking innocent—” his fingers twisted slightly, “—and you’re letting me ruin you in my bedroom with your best friend asleep just down the hall. That’s so bad, baby.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until his thumb pressed down just a little harder and your back arched off his sheets like it wasn’t even your body anymore.

“Hee—Heeseung, I—” Your voice broke on a gasp, hands fisting in the sheets now, legs trembling uncontrollably. “It’s happening—please, I can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered again, fingers still curling so deep inside you, his voice so low and filthy it made you shiver. “You’re cumming, baby. Let it happen. Let me feel you—come on, be a good girl.”

It was too much, your body tightened around him, all that pressure finally snapping and spilling over into something uncontrollable. You cried out for him, legs kicking slightly, body going stiff, then trembling all over as the heat surged through you, pleasure rolling over in waves. Your eyes blurred, your mouth fell open, and his name broke off your lips again and again like it was the only thing holding you to the earth.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groaned, watching you fall apart like he was committing it to memory, his fingers slowing down but never stopping. “That’s it. That’s my good girl. So fucking pretty when you cum.”

You were gasping, panting, blinking through tears, your whole body twitching from aftershocks. You had never felt anything like this before. Not even close.

Heeseung removed his fingers with a slick sound, bringing them to his mouth and moaning at the sweet taste of you, and while your body was still shaking, you felt your cheeks burn, he always did that but it made you shy anyways.

But there was something about you tonight, you felt like it just wasn’t enough anymore. The touches, the late nights with his fingers between your legs or you riding his thigh until you were shaking. You wanted more.

You wanted him.

So with breathy, weak voice, you spoke to him while he kissed you, against his lips.

“Please, Heeseung,” you whispered, voice barely holding together. “I want it to be you.”

Heeseung stopped, then exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. His eyes darkened, throat working as he hovered over you, one hand curling around your jaw while the other stroked his cock in slow, lazy motions, over the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Say that again,” he said, voice deep, low, dangerous. “Look me in the eye and tell me.”

Your cheeks got red again, and you blinked as you felt a tear slip down one of them.

“I want you,” you said shakily. “Please. I want you to take my virginity.”

A growl ripped from his throat. It was like something snapped inside of him.

He let go of his cock, grabbed your hips instead, dragging you completely down the bed roughly, making you gasp, until your thighs were spread wide under him, your entrance bare and glistening and sensitive, still pulsing and so exposed you wanted to cry from shame and need at the same time. Heeseung then pushed down his pants in one movement, freeing his cock completely and you blushed again because this was the first time you saw him like this. He was thick, so thick that your legs trembled at the thought of it inside of you, he was veiny and his tip was red and glistening with precum.

His touch was still soft but rougher when without hesitation, like he had been waiting for this his whole life, he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and slipped it out of you before throwing it on the floor. You couldn’t even respond before his lips found your sensitive nipples, hot and wet mouth around them, and you moaned his name arching your back against him, wanting to feel more of his touch.

“So fucking polite,” he murmured, teasing the head of his cock against your folds, not pushing in. “Begging me all sweet like that. You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

You whimpered, blinking up at him, breathing fast.

“Poor thing,” he smirked, cock twitching against your entrance. “Gonna split you open. Stretch this tight little virgin cunt until you cry.”

The second he started pushing in, the thick head of him breaching your untouched walls, your lips parted in a high, broken sound, your body tensed all over, too much, too full, too hot, and he just groaned, head dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re tight. Tighter than I even dreamed.”

You gasped again when he shifted his hips and went deeper, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, clinging so tight he could barely move. It burned. It throbbed. Your legs were shaking around him, fingers digging into his back like you were drowning. You closed your eyes with so much force that you saw starts, tears falling down the red skin of your cheeks.

“Hurts—” you whispered.

His gaze softened just a little bit, but he didn’t stop.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, licking your tears away, “first time always does. But I promise I’ll make it feel good. You trust me, right?”

You nodded. It was messy and desperate, and you didn’t know why, this man had taken all the purity from you, but you did.

“Good girl.” His hips rolled slowly, and you felt him everywhere, thick and hot and heavy inside you, pressing so deep it made your stomach flutter, stretching your walls so good, you felt so full, so owned. “I want you to remember this,” he said darkly, mouth dragging over your ear. “Every time you feel sore, every time you feel me dripping out of you later, I want you to remember who did this to you.”

You moaned, helpless, as he started to move, slow and deep, dragging his cock out until just the tip remained before pushing all the way back in, making your whole body jerk. The stretch stung, but your body was softening around him, wet and fluttering, clinging like it wanted more. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, your cheeks soaked with tears, your heart full of shame but somehow, full of love too because you were loving this, loving how he felt, how he was talking to you, how he moved inside of you.

“Look at you,” Heeseung murmured, dragging your legs higher around his waist. “So good for me. Crying, shaking, and you’re still letting me fuck this virgin pussy like it’s mine.”

You nodded again, not even thinking, and his hips pushed again, a little rougher this time, and a loud cry broke from your throat as he slammed back in, the sharp sting of the stretch still there, but somehow it just made everything more intense. His cock dragged along your walls so deep, so full, the pressure at your core tightening unbearably.

He smirked.

“Yeah? It is mine?”

“Yours,” you whispered, tears running hot down your cheeks.

“That’s right,” he cooed, snapping his hips harder now, slow but with force, enough to knock the breath out of your lungs each time. “You’ll never be this innocent again, sweetheart. I’m takin’ all of it.”

His hand slid between your bodies again, his thumb finding your swollen clit, rubbing soft, tight circles that made you scream.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, holding your thighs up around his waist, folding you open like he owned you. “You’re taking it so well now. Pussy’s learnin’ me, isn’t it? Getting used to this cock already.”

You moaned through clenched teeth, head rolling back into the pillow, overwhelmed. It felt like too much, he was so heavy over your body, but also not enough, your body craving more even as it trembled beneath him.

“Eyes on me,” he said, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to look up at him. “I want you to watch while I ruin you.”

Your lashes fluttered, tears clinging to your cheeks. You were crying, breath hitching, but not from pain, it was all just too much. And you loved it. His pace picked up. Not brutal but relentless, deep, rolling thrusts that made your thighs shake, your toes curl, your breath come in broken sobs as he slammed against your skin with wet, obscene sounds.

You couldn’t speak, ouldn’t think straight. All the shame and shyness disappeared the second you felt him inside of you. His cock dragged against your walls with each deep thrust, your body slick and messy, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every movement.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he whispered, almost laughing, dark, low, obsessed. “Dripping for me. So fuckin’ tight, but your pussy’s greedy, baby. She wants more, huh?”

You sobbed, your back arching when he suddenly shifted, folding you deeper, pressing your knees toward your chest as he sank in even further, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god—Heeseung—” you gasped.

“Yeah? You feel that? That’s me right here—” he slid a hand down to press against your lower stomach, just over where the head of his cock was hitting deep inside. “Right there, baby. Right where you needed me.”

Your hands scrambled up to his shoulders, nails dragging uselessly over his skin as your body trembled. Your brain was melting, no thoughts left except HeeseungHeeseungHeeseung. You felt it again, the pressure building, everything was too much. And he knew it.

“Gonna cum again?” he mocked sweetly. “That’s so cute. Barely been fucked and already falling apart. Is it too much?”

You sobbed out a moan, your body arching up, clenching around him like you couldn’t stop.

“Thank me,” he said suddenly, voice sharp in your ear. “Say thank you for fucking you this good.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and wide, lips trembling.

“Say it,” he ordered, pushing deeper, hips grinding against your pelvis until your thighs shook uncontrollably. “Be a good girl.”

“Th-thank you,” you choked out, voice wrecked. “Thank you, Heeseung.”

He groaned, cock twitching deep inside you.

“Say thank you for taking my virginity.”

You cried harder, but you said it, gasping through tears, face flushed and humiliated and so turned on it hurt. But you didn’t care, you were his now.

“Thank you… for taking it,” you sobbed. “Thank you for ruining me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “That’s my girl.”

His thrusts got faster, deeper, pounding into your sweet, tender pussy like he was claiming it, like he wanted to leave it swollen and aching and full of him.

“Gonna cum inside,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up and keep it there. Want you dripping, sore, thinking of me every time you sit down.”

Your body tensed all over again, everything built fast, hot, unbearable, and you came with a scream, tears falling as your body shook, muscles locking around him so tight he groaned, hips stuttering

“Fuck, that’s it,” Heeseung grunted, barely holding on, his cock pulsing deep inside your spasming walls. “You want it, don’t you? Wanna be full of me.”

You nodded frantically, crying through it, too far gone to even speak, but he didn’t need words. Your body said everything, writhing under him, sucking him in deeper with every flutter.

“You want me to breed this pretty little pussy,” he moaned, hips stuttering. “First time and I’m already ruining you. Filling you up so good, baby—fuck, maybe I’ll get you pregnant. Maybe I’ll knock you up just like this, all messy and crying for me.”

You gasped, another twitch racing through you at his words. You were trembling, overstimulated, body arching under him even as your orgasm still echoed through your limbs.

“That's what you want, right?” he whispered, fucking you through it, each thrust slower but deeper, his cock twitching as was so close. “Want me to fuck a baby into you. Stuff you full. Claim you for real.”

His body hovered over yours, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, jaw clenched so tight it ticked as he fought to hold it together. His brows furrowed, lips parted on a low moan as he came, cock throbbing deep inside your spasming cunt.

You felt it, the thick, hot spill of his release, filling you to the brim, warm and endless. He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling your body closer, anchoring himself as he fucked it deeper with short, needy thrusts. His groan was guttural when he finally spilled, hot inside you, filling you so deep it burned. He held himself there, cock buried to the hilt, like he didn’t want to lose a single drop.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, shaking, breath ragged and broken.

“God,” he groaned, voice rasping, barely audible. “So fucking good. Gonna get you pregnant like this.”

His hands trembled slightly, not from nerves, but from restraint, like every muscle in his body was straining to keep control. Veins stood out on his arms, his chest heaving against yours, skin burning hot.

He looked down at you, and his eyes, blown wide, pupils dark and wild, were obsessed.

“Look at me,” he whispered, pushing your hair back with shaking fingers. “I want you to remember what I look like when I cum inside you for the first time.”

You blinked up at him through the blur of tears, vision filled with the flushed pink of his cheeks, the swollen red of his lips, the glint of sweat that made his collarbones shine in the low light.

His cock twitched again, still deep, still thick and hard even after filling you so completely.

He smiled, slow, dark, too pleased.

“Still clenching,” he murmured, shifting slightly. “You don’t want to let me go, do you?”

When he finally pulled back, a mix of slick and cum slipped out with a slow, wet sound, and his jaw locked again, nostrils flaring like it physically hurt him to see it.

“Fuck no,” he muttered, shoving it back in with two fingers, watching your face twist from overstimulation. “You’re keeping every drop. Gotta make sure it sticks.”

Then he leaned down, still panting, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “All mine. Full of me.”

You didn’t even notice you were crying again until Heeseung kissed the tears from your cheeks, slow and tender.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse as he stroked your hair back. “You did so good for me. Took it all, didn’t you? My sweet girl.”

You could barely nod, body twitching beneath him, every inch of you overstimulated, messy, full. His arms wrapped around you carefully as he rolled the both of you onto your sides, cradling your body against his chest, your cunt pulsing, twitching, leaking all over his sheets.

Heeseung looked down and moaned.

“Fuck. Look at the mess we made,” he whispered against your temple, nuzzling close, not even trying to hide how obsessed he was. “All my cum dripping out of this perfect little pussy. Bet you can feel it, huh?”

You whimpered, still trembling, thighs too sore to close. He kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I know, baby. I know it’s a lot,” he murmured, brushing soft fingers down your side, slow and soothing. “I got you. I’ll clean you up.”

He reached for a towel nearby and gently started dabbing between your legs, but even then, he couldn’t help himself.

“God,” he muttered, watching your thighs twitch from the sensitivity. “You’re so ruined for me now.”

You blinked up at him, eyes still hazy and damp.

“You’ll never be the same again, angel,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Nobody’s ever gonna fuck you like that. Nobody’s gonna make you cry the way I do.”

You whimpered, and he smiled, soft and so proud.

“My good girl,” he praised, rubbing slow circles into your thigh with his free hand. “Took it all so sweet. You didn’t even know you could take that much, did you?”

You shook your head, burying your face in his neck as he chuckled and held you tighter.

“Yeah,�� he breathed, kissing your temple again. “All mine now. Sweet little thing’s all used up and full of me. Gonna keep you that way.”

He tossed the towel aside once he was satisfied and pulled you into his chest completely, letting you rest against his body, warm and safe, even with the filth still heavy in his voice.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered softly, letting his hand run up and down your spine now, gentler.

You nodded, a soft hum escaping your lips.

You blinked up at him through heavy lashes, still glassy with leftover tears. You could barely speak, throat raw from moaning, from crying, from begging, but somehow the words came, a whisper barely audible.

“…thank you.”

Your voice was so small, so wrecked. But it was the way you said it, all soft and sweet, like you meant it with your whole heart. His eyes darkened again, slowly dragging over your face. The tears on your cheeks. The swollen lips. The ruined innocence.

His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth as he let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, eyes fluttering closed for a second like he was physically affected. “That’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You flushed, face hot against his skin.

He leaned in closer, kissed your temple, and whispered like a secret:

“My sweet girl… all ruined and grateful for it.”

His voice was shaking now too, not from arousal this time, but from something deeper, Possession, obsession.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping you up like you were something precious and fragile, even though you’d just let him break you completely. And you had. Your body still ached, sore and pulsing, filled and messy, but you’d never felt so full, or so safe.

“Thank you for letting me be your first,” he whispered finally. “And your last.”

Your eyelids fluttered shut as his warmth pulled you under. The ache in your thighs, the mess between your legs, the soreness blooming across your skin… none of it mattered. You were in Heeseung’s arms. Safe. Ruined. You weren’t sure if he loved you, maybe he did in his own dangerous way, you didn’t know what you were going to say to his sister tomorrow morning.

It didn’t matter, you were his now.

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