cinnamon-won - Tumblr blog

cinnamon-won · 2 days ago

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Might have accidentally read this without realising it’s the 9TH FUCKING PART

Was so good on its own but now I’ll definitely be going back to read all the parts 😭✋

Now Live ! Stream: 9

Genre: camboy au, college au, smut, crack, ongoing series

Paring: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: emotional distress and regret following a consensual sexual encounter, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, top! gyu, crying, hand job, dry humping, tit sucking, nipple play, possessiveness, overstimulation, use of butt plug, spanking, dacryphilia, strap sucking, beomgyu wears lip gloss, praise, degrading, use of pet names, dollification, choking, slut shaming,

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he goes to the same uni as you, is even in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 8.4k

You feel sick.

you've been pacing around your dorm relentlessly for 20 minutes now, gnawing at your fingernails, because right now, at this exact moment, beomgyu was streaming. Without you.

And not just without you, but with one of the biggest camgirls in the community: Winter01.

You tried to remain unbothered, unfazed, unaffected, at least, that’s how you acted when, beomgyu, unsure and sheepish, had asked you whether he should go for it. It made sense, she had specifically reached out only to beomgyu and had asked to collab, and that was a great opportunity since she was so well known. If he appeared on her channel, then you’d both gain more popularity and traction on your channel too and make even more money. He should totally go for it. It made perfect, rational sense. It shouldn't feel this serious. it's just a stream. Just a collab.

Except, the thought of beomgyu doing a stream with someone else, being fucked by someone else, someone else making him feel good…it just made this nasty, terrible, inexplainable feeling occur within you. That’s what you do with him. That’s your thing. No one else has ever touched him on stream, not ever, not until now.

You collapse onto your desk chair in frustration, only to shoot up a second later. You stand back up. You open your laptop. You close it. You go back to the tab of the website. You close that too. The endless back and forth, making you go insane.

The notification still glows at the top of your laptop screen like a slap to the face.

@Angel313 is now live with @Winter01 !

You battled with yourself, conflicting thoughts on whether you should click on the stream, see what’s going on. Because, a part of you was dying to know. What was she doing with him? Did he like it? Did the viewers like it? Were there even more views than normal? What if it becomes super trending? Was she better than you at fucking beomgyu? What if beomgyu likes her way more than you? It was genuinely eating away at you from the inside.

But at the same time, you didn’t want to see. It’s best to not know at all. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, ignorance is bliss, you know, all that stuff. Because once you click on the stream, there’s no going back. Did you really want to see all that? You could remain peacefully unaware, let the imagination torment you with glimpses only in your mind, not in high definition, in real time.

But, maybe it’s best to know actually.

Maybe the not knowing is worse. What if she’s touching beomgyu the way he likes? What if he likes it better? At least you’ll know and then you can be prepared if he decides he wants to switch partners and toss you aside because winter was way better.

But can you blame him? Winter is beautiful. And she’s popular for a reason. Even you’re familiar with her, you’ve watched some of her streams before. She’s good at what she does. You like her too. What if it does go viral? What if they have insane chemistry and the chat explodes and people beg for more and they're all like ''holy shit, this is the best collab ever" and they make so much money and everyone likes them both together so much and they collab even more in the future and then he just starts streaming with her altogether instead because she’s so much better? She is a professional camgirl, you were just a viewer, a fan for a faceless pretty camboy named angel313. Do you even know what you’re doing?

You suck in a breath. Alas, the curiosity gets the better of you though, and hesitantly, you click on the stream. It loads slowly and you can hear the imaginary countdown in your head, body buzzing with dread at what you might see.

You get what you went searching for. You’d opened the pandora’s box.

You see it as soon as it loads—Winter’s pretty manicured hand wrapped around beomgyu’s flushed cock, pumping him up and down as he stiffly sat on her pink gamer chair, she’s whispering things you can’t decipher, giggling and she looks so pretty, glossed lips brushing over his reddened ears, you see beomgyu who looks like he’s freaking out over all of this, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, embarrassed, cheeks all pink, shaking slightly, biting his lip. Then you hear it. His voice. He lets out a small quiet, shy whimper and a "P-please...!" That does it.

You switch the stream off instantly, slamming your laptop screen down like it had burned you. You don’t want to see anymore. You wished you hadn’t seen at all, but it’s too late to unsee, the image now fully engrained in your head. You feel even more sick than you did before.

Curiosity really does the kill cat, you guess.

You hate how your chest aches. And it feels far too much like the feeling of heartbreak for your liking. Which is dumb. Why did you care so much anyway? In the past when you didn’t know who Angel was, you would have absolutely loved to watch him get fucked on camera by someone else. He only ever used to do solo streams. Hell, if you knew it was Winter, you probably would have been even more overjoyed and excited to watch your favourite pretty camboy get ruined by another pretty camgirl. You probably would have lost your mind. A small part of you almost misses back when you were just a viewer, when you didn't know Choi Beomgyu, the supposed campus fuckboy was Angel313. When you used to just watch him unknowingly through a screen.

Your nerves are tripled as you wait and brace yourself for beomgyu to return.

You don’t know exactly what you expected when Beomgyu finally walks through the door, but it wasn’t this.

He’s quiet. Too quiet. No grinning, smug from ear to ear, enthusiastic and blushing. No giddy, boastful oversharing of how amazing everything was, like you’d thought. Like what he usually does when he finds something exciting or funny about his day and rambles about it to you for so long with shiny eyes because he can never really contain his emotions when he feels happy and it's always endearing and he always kind of resembles a puppy when he’s like that. Beomgyu doesn’t even meet your eyes.

You get off your bed with wide eyes immediately at the sight of him, standing straight in anticipation way too quickly. Your heart is hammering in your chest, all the questions you wanted to ask blowing up in your mind, but getting jumbled and stuck in your throat.

What was it like?

How did it go?

Was she good?

Do you want to stream with her again?

“Beomgyu.” You start frantically, “How did it—?”

But before you can finish the question, he wraps his arms around you. Tightly. Practically collapsing against you. He presses his entire body into you, hugging you like he’s desperate to melt into your skin and he buries his head deep into your shoulder.

You gasp and freeze, deeply confused, and brows furrowed. Beomgyu is tense, his breath is warm but shaky against your bare neck. Still, your arms move slowly, hugging him back. You hold him, gently at first, then a little tighter. That seems to ease him slightly. His shoulders loosen a fraction. But his grip on you stays firm.

“...Gyu?” you ask, quieter, softer now.

He doesn't answer. You try to pull back slightly to look at him, but he just clings tighter, arms winding more secure around your waist and burying his face impossibly deeper into your shoulder and neck, shakily inhaling and exhaling.

“Hey…what’s wrong? Did something happen?” You run your hand gently up and down his back. Could it be winter? Maybe something happened?

“No.” Beomgyu mumbles finally as if he could read your mind, voice muffled against your hoodie. “She was…really nice, actually. Nothing happened.”

You blink at him, even more lost. “Then…?”

Beomgyu sighs. “I don’t know. It just- It didn’t…feel right.”

He pulls back from your shoulder, facing you now and you see how glossy his brown eyes had become. He looks at you like he’s trying to explain something he doesn’t quite understand himself, like he can’t figure why it’s having such an affect on him either. “Thought it would be like all the other streams, but it didn’t feel the same. At all. I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic. But it made me feel... weird. Not like, bad. Just…sort of, empty? Dissociated? I couldn’t stop thinking about—” Beomgyu pauses, eyes squeezing shut for a second before opening again, unsure. “It-it wasn’t…” Beomgyu sighs again. “It wasn’t you.”

Beomgyu frowns at you with a pout, bottom lip almost wobbling as his mouth becomes heavily downturned, and then he hides his face into your shoulder once more, gripping onto you harder.

That stuns you into silence.

It wasn’t you.

“Sorry. It’s weird, I know.”

“It’s not.” You say firmly. You cup the side of his face without thinking, brushing your thumb over the soft skin beneath his eye. He leans into it immediately, almost instinctively, eyes fluttering shut, relieved.

Beomgyu continues to hug you silently in that spot for a while. After a long, moment, he gently nudges you backwards guiding you to the bed and lowering both of you down onto it. He flops on top of you, his cheek pressed right against your chest as if you’re his pillow, arms wound tightly around your waist, cuddling you. A content sigh escapes him when you start slowly carding your fingers through his soft hair, stroking through the strands. His body is warm and so are is slow breaths against your skin, legs tangled with yours and he’s soo clingy.

You don’t know how long you just lie there. But you wouldn’t have been able to get up even if you wanted. You’d attempted to get up earlier to go to the bathroom, but beomgyu hadn’t let you, furrowing his brows in offence and whining annoyed at you loudly, refusing and clinging to you somehow even more.

Despite him restricting you from pissing—it was quite sweet, the way he was acting right now, wanting to be close to you the whole time and latching his limbs onto you like an octopus that won’t let go, making your heart flutter.

And then, after what felt like hours, he moves. Beomgyu slowly lifts his head from your chest, eyes fluttering open and he blinks at you. His gaze roams your face, slow and searching, and his hand comes up, delicately brushing some hair away from your face. There’s something quietly desperate in the way he looks at you. And then he leans down, soft lips grazing yours and he kisses you.

It starts slow at first, his lips moving against yours gently. He pulls away a little, gazing at you again, then he surges forward, kissing you deeper this time, hands moving to cup your face. His lips are plush and hot, moving with increasing fervour, breath hitching as he starts to get needier as time goes on. His tongue slips past your lips and he groans softly into your mouth, kissing you deeper, messier, more desperately like he’s been starved of it.

His hands trail down, grabbing at your waist, your hips, pushing himself even closer to you until there’s no kind of space left between you. His eyes are half lidded by now, lips so swollen and parted. One hand pushes your hoodie up, exposing your tits, lips kissing the space in between your breasts, then kissing all over your chest eagerly and brushing his mouth over the expanse. And then his pouty lips wrap around your nipple, hand groping and kneading the other, moaning at that.

You gasp as he continues to suck your tits blissfully, flicking and swirling his tongue harshly around your nipple that has you squirming, mouthing at you hungrily. He’s drooling and your chest and his lips are all shiny and slick with spit and drool. Then he switches to the other nipple. You feel him humping you by now, rocking his hips against yours, muffled desperate whines eliciting from his stuffed mouth, continuing to rut against you like a dumb, dirty dog.

He looks up at you innocently through his pretty lashes and doe brown eyes, plump lips still latched and wrapped around your tits, sound of him avidly sucking and slurping and moaning, evident around your dorm. He finally lets go with a wet pop, so drooly and messy and then he kisses you again, sloppily making out all wet, still humping you, breath ragged, eyes half lidded.

“I need you.” Beomgyu says when he pulls away from your lips, looking at you so intensely, so gravely. He sounds so wrecked. And he’s not just turned on, although that’s apparent too, but so wrecked and frenzied and needy already. “Pleaseee. I need to be closer to you. Wanna feel you. Please, I wanna fuck you so bad right now, I can’t” He sounds like he’s going to cry. “Let me, let me, baby, please…” He keeps kissing you between every plea, your mouth, your neck, your collarbone, any part of you he can kiss.

You let him because after everything that’s happened today, you want him just as badly, you’re just as desperate for beomgyu. His hands are already fumbling to rid you of your clothes and then his own, desperate and shaky and clumsy with urgency.

You stroke him a few times his cock twitching in your palm as he lets out a broken, pretty moan, “You want it that badly, hmm?”

Beomgyu nods frantically, his hips twitching forward like he can’t help himself, pupils dilating just from thinking about it.

You laugh, “You're so needy.” You bring his dick closer to you, dragging his tip through your slick folds, moving yourself against him, watching the way beomgyu’s face scrunches up, and then beomgyu does too, sliding his cock against your folds up and down until you say he can fuck you.

“Y/n…” He whines, “please, please. Can I be inside?” Beomgyu begs and implores, like not being inside of you right now is the most unbearable thing ever possible for him, like it physically hurts him, shaking and trembling just at the feeling of his wet dick sliding on your folds.

“Go on, baby.”

Beomgyu does not need to be told twice, he wastes no time, lining himself up and burying his swollen fat tip and the rest of his length t the hilt inside your warm, wet pussy. “O-oh, god…” Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut, not even being able to open them, he throws his head back, pathetically moaning out long and loud, gasping for breath, trying to calm himself down, he could cum already.

Just as he starts to move, you stop him with a palm to his chest. You suddenly get an idea, “Wait, gyu.” He stops, whining in confusion, just blinking at you, too dazed.

You bring your phone out and start a stream, filming beomgyu. There wasn’t supposed to be a stream but you feel the urge. You want everyone to see, you want them to know at the end of the day, he’s yours, feeling possessive. You want them to see how he acts when he’s with you.

All the comments are flooded with talk of the stream beomgyu had done with winter previously, but the general consensus seemed to be that most were confused and asking of your relationship with beomgyu, some also debating on who they liked seeing beomgyu more with.

@angelsfav: Wait so you guys aren’t dating ????

@luuvsubs: I always thought they were dating. From their dynamic and everything they did and acted, it seemed like they were.

@31333_fan: seeing angel’s dynamic with two different partners was really interesting and stark haha. I like both so much ! 🩷

@ilovewiinter: I preferred angel and winter. She’s my favourite camgirl!

@freakyyes : winter >>> sorry not sorry 😋

@heartgel: Nahhh he has so much more chemistry with who he usually streams with. He’s wayy more into this 😭 look at him 🫠

“Are we dating?” you repeat to the screen. “No. We’re not.”

You place the phone on your table so they can properly see you both. Beomgyu really doesnt care about anything at all at the moment, he just wants to fuck you. You tell him he can start again and beomgyu begins to move.

Beomgyu fucks into you slowly at first, trying to control himself with desperate, restrained, shaky rolls of his hips like he wants to feel everything, every inch of you, eyes focused and obsessed, entranced with the lewd sight of your pussy slowly swallowing him in. He moans every time he bottoms out, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slack and cute, deep, breathy little cries. You can’t tell if he’s going so slow, moving like this and holding back because he’s waiting for permission, to tell him he can go faster, or he’s desperately trying to savour it, but you want more.

You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper into you and hands sliding up his back, clutching at the muscles there, moving and rolling your own hips to meet his as well, guiding him to fuck into you more. Beomgyu yelps, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at that, a choked moan slipping past his lips, hands placed on the mattress on either side of you, faltering, “S-sshit...!”

"Does it feel good, puppy?" You coo at him, one of your hands coming to tangle and caress his messy, long hair, loving how he's already falling apart because of you.

Beomgyu nods like a brainless baby, eyelids drooping with pleasure, slurring his words, his tiny lisp becoming slightly more evident, drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth, watching your tits deliciously jiggle with every thrust, "Ss-so goood-ughh. Pussy feels s’ good, so perfect...mmm-ah."

It’s not long until beomgyu completely loses himself in the feeling of you, his thrusts quickly building up in speed, slamming his hips harder and deeper, erratically. “Wanna be inside you forever…wanna be—ahh this close t’you all thetime...” Beomgyu is just blabbering random shit by now, deliriously slamming his cock into your now soaked pussy repeatedly. Beomgyu holds onto you tightly, face falling into the crook of your neck, utterly wrecked, his drool all on your neck now, his moans and groans spilling into your ear.

“Yeah? You’re all mine aren’t you?” You coax him, your own eyes glazed up at this point, your puppy fucking you so well, such a good boy.

Beomgyu’s hands scramble for yours blindly and desperately, interlacing your fingers together, squeezing hard, holding your hands and refusing to let go. He’s still clinging so close to you like a lifeline, like he can’t bear not to, like he wants to dissolve into you completely, all so sticky and hot, you hold onto him tightly too.

“Yeah. Yours. ‘m yours…” He lifts his head from your neck, bringing his forehead to yours, looking at you like you hung the stars.

“Only I can make you feel this good right?” So maybe you are trying to stroke your own ego a bit by now, but you need him to say it, need everyone else to hear it too.

Beomgyu nods and hums, giving you a dreamy look, pathetically whimpering and whining, face contorted in overwhelming bliss, “mmh. Only you.” He squeezes your hand tight at that, nuzzling his nose with yours, forehead still touching yours, peppering sweet kisses all over your face. Your heart feels like it might give out.

Your pussy clenches tightly around him and beomgyu looks genuinely so far gone, so dumbed out, so fucked out from your pussy, his face the most debauched you’ve seen him, groaning, “baby…ah ‘m so close” Beomgyu’s cock plows into you so sloppily, squelchy wet slaps of skin when he fucks your hole feverishly and uncoordinated, continuous strangled moans leaving his mouth by now.

Beomgyu is so incredibly sweaty, messy hair wet and falling into his half lidded eyes, sweat dripping down his sharp jaw, nose and forehead, you’re probably just the same too, if not worse. But beomgyu just looks so good and so hot, so sweaty and so sexy. The sweat makes his whole body glow and shine under the dim light, and god, does he truly look like an angel right now. It’s ironic, so on-the-nose. Angel313. His username. It’s unfair how unreal, how ethereal beomgyu looks.

And beomgyu is so loud, unable to contain his noises of pleasure, he should probably keep it down but you don’t want him to, you adore hearing the sounds he makes because of you. The moans loud and relentless, tumbling out of him uncontrollably, reverberating around the room as well as the slick sounds of his cock moving inside you.

He’s shaking with the effort not to cum too soon, not to fall apart so fast that it embarrasses him. But it’s useless. You know him way too well by now, you’d watched all his streams before, streamed with him too much by now to know exactly when he’s close even when he tries not to, you know what makes him twitch, what makes his eyes roll back, what makes that pretty, loud mouth of his go slack and dumb.

“Cum for me, pretty angel. Show them how good you are for me.”

One of his hands goes down to your pretty folds, thumbing over your clit fast, rubbing in frantic little circles, desperate to have you cumming on his cock too, the other still interlocked with yours needily. Beomgyu ruts into you helplessly like a wild, panting dog, slamming his stuttering hips relentlessly with yours.

“I-I’m gonna c-cum—“ He chokes and stutters out. You bring your hand to thumb at his sensitive nipples, playing with the buds harshly and that brings him to the edge, “F-fuck, baby I-I’m cummingg I’m cumming…!” Beomgyu wails, crying out, he feels his orgasm build in his stomach and so do you, both of you letting go and cumming together, so intense, it almost feels spiritual.

You grab his face, smacking your lips with his, kissing him and swallowing down his moans so hungrily, kissing so deep it steals the air from both your lungs but neither of you pull away, his forehead still rests softly against yours, his sweat sweat dripping onto you. You feel so much of beomgyu’s hot, sticky cum spilling into you continuously, completely milking him and his body jerks, shaking violently. Beomgyu cums so hard he genuinely sees stars, just feeling pure ecstasy and fully, utterly spent.

When you both genuinely need to breathe, you pull away, lips parting with a wet, thin pull, a sllippery, slivery string of saliva still connecting your swollen mouths. Your breaths are ragged, chests heaving against each other, your skin damp and flushed. You reach out blindly, fingers fumbling over the desk until you finally manage to end the stream with a click, not really bothering to look at the donations or comments.

“Holy fuck…” Beomgyu shuts his eyes, breathing out, holding onto both of your hands.

“Quite literally.” You pant, dazed.

You both giggle at that, lightheaded, beomgyu shaking his head with a breathless laugh, grinning tiredly at you, forehead dropping to yours once more.

Beomgyu starts to pull out but you stop him, “keep fucking me, beomie. Isn’t that what you wanted? Said you want to stay in my pussy forever hmm?” Your voice teasing, brushing his sweaty bangs out his face, grinning wickedly. But he doesn’t complain.

“Y-yeah.” Beomgyu just nods, moaning weakly, already fucking and stuffing his cum back into you again with gasped whimpers and whines and wincing of overstimulation, trembling. You really don’t know how long you guys go at it for, all blurry and dizzy, just remembering beomgyu’s loud cries of your name and cumming again and again and again, clutching and grasping onto you.

Beomgyu🪽: did you want to hang out? me, tae and kai are gonna play tekken !! 😋

Y/n🎷: nah can’t sorry. I’m REVISING in the library with a friend. 🤓📚Which YOU should be doing too btw…🤨🧐🫵

Beomgyu🪽: but can’t you just come? Can’t you do that later? I need to beat you in tekken again. 👉👈 And I don’t need to revise, I’m naturally talented in mewsik >_< 🎤🎸🎶

Y/n🎷: what kind of spelling is that. Tell Kai he should be revising rn too wtf it’s literally exam season

Beomgyu🪽: Kai said you’re a neek. Are you really not coming ??☹️☹️🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Y/n 🎷: I’m literally at the library rn, no.

Beomgyu 🪽: who are you with anyway? Music practice room guy?

Y/n 🎷: yeah

Beomgyu🪽: cool, have fun revising.

Beomgyu’s stomach twists. He scowls at your message for a little longer, fingers lingering on the keyboard like he wants to type something else but then he doesn’t. With a little too much force, he places his phone on the table face-down, knitting his eyebrows in a frown, arms crossed, grumbling to himself.

He kinda hates that you’re not coming over. He kinda really hates that you’re hanging out with that other guy instead of him too. Do you not like his company anymore or something?

He really, really wanted to see you today. He’d even gotten extra snacks for you, the ones he knows are your favourite and cleared the space on the floor so you could sit next to him. He didn’t think you wouldn’t come. Is he being dramatic right now? You’re just studying in the library, it’s probably what he should be doing too. But, you’ve never said no to hanging out ever before…you’d still come, just for a bit even if you didn’t want to.

Well, at least he still gets to see you today, because there is a stream later tonight.

“What? Y/n’s not coming?” Taehyun asks from where he sits, crosslegged on beomgyu’s bed, controller in hand, starting the game.

“No.” Beomgyu sulks, sounding very much like a kicked puppy. “They’re too busy studying with this guy they met in the music practice rooms. They’re always hanging out with him lately…” The last part is said with so much bitterness in his voice, muttering and complaining.

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “Do you know who this guy is?”

“No.”

“Have you asked?” Huening Kai chimes in, sat on the floor, back slumped against the bed a controller also in his hand and munching on a packet of crisps.

“No.” Beomgyu huffs. “Anyway. As I was about to say before, I’ve had a really, really big revelation, something highly important.”

Kai gasps, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m not a fucking seahorse.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, “I was going to say…” He closes his eyes, inhales and exhales dramatically and finally declares, “I think…I like y/n more than IU.”

They’re both silent for a second but neither of them seem particularly shocked to hear that. Then, kai resumes munching on the crisps loudly again, unfazed.

“That’s your big revelation?” Taehyun asks, incredulously.

Beomgyu takes offence. “I think it’s really shocking. Why are you not shocked? I’ve liked IU since I was nine! She’s my first love.”

Huening Kai gasps dramatically, mocking him. “Even more than Park Boyoung?!”

Beomgyu hesitates. He takes a moment to really think, deeply in thought, as if that was the hardest question he’s ever had to answer, like those moralistic ‘would you rather change the track to the baby or kill 5 people’ dilemmas. “Possibly… yes.”

“Okay wait, no.” Kai sits up, “This is serious.”

“I was saying this was serious before! So, like what should I do? Do you guys think I’m going insane? I’m going insane. I’ve lost it.” Beomgyu grabs a fistful of his own hair, pulling at it and groaning. “I feel like…i feel like the tragic second male lead in a kdrama right now who like, watches the main couple get together in the rain with an umbrella in his hand, smiling even though he’s dying inside.” He doesn’t know exactly when it happened but after he came back from doing that stream with winter, it all became so very clear to him, suddenly crashing down on him. He thinks it’s been happening for a while. And it’s very serious.

“No, I think it was just inevitable from the start.” Taehyun replies calmly, eyes focused on the menu screen, clicking a few buttons, “I think it’s hard not to catch feelings given your situation. It makes sense. I’m pretty sure y/n likes you too.”

“Just tell them bro.” Huening Kai adds, his mouth disgustingly full of crisps as he spoke.

Beomgyu’s head shot up. “Tell them? Ew. Gross. No. I’m not doing that.” He comes closer to where Kai sat, reaching for a crisp in the bag himself, eating it with a pout. “They don’t even like me. They like him. That annoying practice room guy, whoever he is. Ugh, whatever. Maybe I’m just getting really confused because of the nature of what we do. Maybe, I don’t even like y/n. Yeah…yeah.” Beomgyu nods conspicuously, agreeing with himself with narrowed eyes, stroking his chin slowly like an old, beared man, except, he doesn’t have a beard.

“You’re so full of shit.” Taehyun throws a pillow aggressively at beomgyu’s head.

“Oww!”

Taehyun and Kai exchange a pointed look, shaking their heads, maybe it wasn’t going to happen sooner than they both were beginning to think.

Beomgyu huffs in defence, “Say if I did, even I did…tell them. It could jeopardise everything! We’re supposed to be professional partners. If I say something and it gets weird between us, what then?” His chest tightens a little at the thought. You could stop streaming with him, what was he supposed to do then? Continue solo again, find someone else? He already knows now he wouldn’t want to be streaming with anyone else if it wasn’t you. And if he went solo, it’d be boring again, he’d get less money. But it wasn’t even about the streaming anymore, he’d gotten so close to you in a matter of a few months. You’d become such an important person, a staple in his life so naturally, that he couldn’t remember what it was even like before you had entered it. He wants to be close to you all the time. Days without you are weird now. When you’re not around, he’s always missing you. He’d rather it stay how it is now than not have you in his life at all. So no, he’s not going to risk it.

“You should at least find out who this guy is.” Kai yawns, tossing the bag of crisps to the side, taking the controller in both his hands, ready to play now.

“Why?” Beomgyu asks suspiciously.

“To see if he’s way hotter than you.”

Beomgyu gasps, scandalised, beginning to spiral. “What if he is?”

You sat hunched in the computer lab of the library, all your notes and books and manuscript paper sprawled madly on the desk as you desperately tried to learn about advanced music theory and Schenkerian analysis, you have no idea how kai and beomgyu aren’t stressed out right now, your head beginning to hurt as you sat besides haechan who was also studying, a lot more calmly than you.

The library and computer lab was pretty packed and alive since it was exam season, being able to see other stressed out uni students fighting the same losing battle, and groups of friends who were gossiping about their latest traumatic situationship of the semester—very entertaining to eavesdrop on, though distracting as you were supposed to be revising, both you and haechan giggling at the outrageous things you hear.

Haechan glances at what you’re attempting to revise at the minute and pitifully shakes his head at your screen, “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t pick Music.”

You groan, head on the desk, “I can’t do it.”

“Wanna go for a walk around campus instead?” Haechan offers.

You laugh, “you know what, yeah.” Both of you leaving all your possessions on the desk with blind trust, wandering out the library into the late afternoon sun.

Before the walk properly began, you both made a detour to the campus cafe, purchasing a drink to cheer you up a bit more. You think you deserve a little sweet treat, having been at wits end to warrant one.

You laugh and walk around with haechan, drinks in hand and sipping on them, the campus golden and bathed in soft amber light, a pleasant breeze that wasn’t too hot or too cold. The cherry blossom trees lining the main path had all burst into full bloom by now, their pretty pink petals littering the ground you walked on, falling elegantly. Some students were already sitting on the grass, chatting away like it was summer already. It was so peaceful to see, and a great breath of fresh air from studying in the library.

You stop to stare at the cherry blossom trees, pointing excitedly, because no matter how many springs have come and how many cherry blossom trees bloomed when the time came every year, it never failed to always leave you in awe at just how beautiful they are. “Look at them. It’s so pretty!”

Haechan nods in agreement. The temptation of taking a picture overcomes you and you bring out your phone, taking a few shots of the cherry blossoms and the sunset behind, then holding your phone out to show him, proudly.

He leans closer, squinting at your screen, smiling. “Okayy, photographer. You should post those.”

PING !!

Suddenly, you get an extremely loud buzz on your phone.

@Angel313 going live soon !!

Shit.

The notification lights up your entire screen so obnoxiously.

You freeze for a second, trying not to visibly freak out or act suspiciously, yanking your phone away from him and fumbling to switch it off, putting it back in your pocket.

Obviously haechan saw it too, you saw how his eyebrows had creased in slight intrigue. But it’s not like it’s some promiscuous username, it wasn’t like it screamed ‘porn!’ it could be anything for all he knows. How would he know that was a camboy, that could literally be a youtuber, gamer or anything else? Yeah, It’s really not that deep, he wouldn’t think it was deep.

He doesn’t say anything about it, which means he probably didn’t think much of it, he just continues casually walking and talking again, changing the subject and you’re very thankful he never asks. Your heart still thudding in your ears for the rest of the stroll.

Beomgyu sat pliantly beside you on the bed, legs folded, hands resting in his lap, eyes following your movements with curiosity, your hand was on his chin, tilting it up, the other intimately applying coats of your lip gloss slowly onto his lips.

“Ow. It burns! What the fuck.” Beomgyu furrows his brows, hissing. He could feel the tingling sensation on his lips right now and it was deeply uncomfortable.

You chuckle, amused. “Yeah, it’s a plumping lip gloss. And it doesn’t even burn that much. Why are you being so dramatic?” Dragging the applicator across his bottom lip in a deliberate motion.

Beomgyu wrinkles his nose. “Whatever that means.”

You roll your eyes, deadpan. “It’s in the name. It plumps your lips.”

“Well it feels really weird.”

“It’s alright, it’ll go away.” You, apply one more coat then pull back, looking satisfied. You take the phone in your hand, filming beomgyu’s lips up close, “Look at the pretty doll.” Needless to say, the chat is blowing up at the sight of angel in lip gloss, the comments lighting up with strings of hearts and emojis.

ANGEL IS TOO PRETTY WTF JDJDJ

LOOK AT THOSE LIPS ?!? 😩 he has the prettiest lips ever

RUIN HIM PLEASE 💕

You’d even done beomgyu’s hair, putting it into a half up poinytail and adding one of your clips in his hair.

Beomgyu looks so good with your lip gloss on, his lips tinted, glittery, sparkly and even plumper than they usually were. He looked so kissable. God, you wanted to kiss him immediately, ruin him, wreck him. But you stop yourself, you were going to ruin him in a different way.

“On your knees, pretty.” Your voice sweet but commanding. Beomgyu does what he’s told and moves immediately, dropping from the bed without hesitation. His knees hit the floor with a soft thud, looking up at you with his sparky brown, innocent, doe eyes, thick doll lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he looks up at you.

You bring the strap you were wearing to his mouth, tapping his lips with it a few times, watching the strings of the thick sticky gloss connect to the top of the strap.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

Beomgyu slowly opens his mouth wider, still not breaking eye contact with you. You slowly push the silicone into beomgyu’s pretty mouth. He begins to suck soft and slow without even being told, rocking his head, wrapping his shiny lips around it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you murmur at the sight, hand stroking over his cheek, “So pretty for me, babe.”

He moans at that, spurring him on, looking up at you desperately. Beomgyu’s hands move to eagerly hold onto your hips, but you swat them away, “No touching.” Beomgyu whines in protest but keeps his hands on his lap instead, balled into fists to stop himself from touching you. His poor dick, hard and leaking in his pants by now.

Beomgyu is so into it by now, focused, bobbing his head earnestly, trying to take more, wanting to please you like he’s really making you feel good as if it’s actually your real body, moaning loudly around the strap. When beomgyu moves further on the faux cock, the harness begins to bump against your clit and you try chasing the sensation by pushing more of your strap down beomgyu’s throat, grasping onto his hair and little ponytail to guide him more harshly. He softly gags, tears springing in his eyes as it hits the back of his throat but he doesn’t stop.

“God, you’re so hot like this pretty doll face, taking my cock so well.” You moan from the feeling of it hitting your clit but also at how pathetic beomgyu looks right now.

"Mmph—mmmghd.” Beomgyu garbles and moans around the silicone in response, drool slobbering all on his chin and wet mouth, spit mixed with the gloss, creating a slick shiny mess on his mouth and the toy, teary, pleading puppy eyes blinking up at you.

But you continue to ignore his gags, forcing him to deepthroat the strap, hands roughly pulling at his hair.

You then bring his face all the way down to the base of the dildo, his nose pressing into your lower abdomen and you hold him there. His body shakes, wide panicked eyes, muffled chokes and cries. But you still keep him there. There’s tears streaming down his face, helpless, cheeks hollowed.

After a while, you let go, he pulls himself completely off and splutters as thick strings of drool connect his lips and chin to the tip of the dildo. Beomgyu gasps for air, choking and coughing and crying, wiping at his chin.

You bring him up, seeing how you’d ruined the pretty doll, his cute hairstyle now all messy, clip half loose and slipping from his bangs, eyes glassy, lashes prettily clumped with tears, tears stream still evident on his rosy cheeks, his lips utterly wrecked, puffy, red, slick and wet and swollen, lip gloss and spit all around and smeared. It’s gorgeous.

You kiss him before he can even properly catch his breath, not giving him that much time for air but he melts into it, kissing you back desperately as if you were the air he needs to breathe, spit and gloss smearing onto your own mouth, all tongue and sloppy, whimpering in your mouth.

Pushing him onto the bed, you straddle him as he lays with breathless anticipation underneath you. You’d agreed to peg him today and he’d sucked your strap so well, with such dedication, being so good, you wanted to give it to him already, wanted to make him feel so good.

You throw his shirt off him, pierced belly comes into view. That iconic little hello kitty charm glinting at you from his navel, rising and falling with every shaky inhale as his tummy trembles underneath your touch. Placing your hand on his tiny waist, you marvel at how he is beneath you. You kiss him everywhere, down his neck, chest, tummy, marking him, sucking soft hickeys as he lets out soft little whines, tugging at the sheets.

You move further down, leaving him in his underwear, spreading his legs apart, kissing the soft unblemished skin of his pretty plush thighs, sucking his inner thighs as his breath hitches, so sensitive there, biting, licking, covering, littering and painting them in purpley and pink splotches. Beomgyu squirms and shivers, restless as your mouth gets so close, too close to his aching, hard cock but not enough. “Pleasee.” He’s breathless, legs spreading even wide for you, “just—touch me, already.” Beomgyu whines and pouts. “You’re teasing me. I’m dying over here.”

You roll your eyes but tug his underwear down and it’s like he suddenly remembers something, panicked, horrified. He shuts his legs, hands instantly flying to cover the area. Beomgyu is blushing furiously, face and ears flushed, his cheeks blooming a pretty shade of pink, pinker than the cherry blossoms you’d seen earlier today. He avoids your gaze, looking anywhere but you, so incredibly embarrassed, so shy.

That’s weird. Beomgyu was rarely ever this shy anymore. He hadn’t got this embarrassed since the first time he streamed in front of you.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, opening his legs and pulling his hands away nonetheless.

That’s when you see it— a pretty little bedazzled heart shaped, pink gem, resting snugly in beomgyu’s hole, catching the light like treasure in a chest. What the hell.

You’d never seen it before and it was driving you crazy, in a good and bad way.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, dramatically, scandalised. “You whore! Have you been wearing this all day?”

“N-no! Just a few hours before you came!” Beomgyu squeaks and splutters, face buried in his hands, trying to explain himself as if he’d committed some atrocious, heinous crime. “Couldn’t help myself…and, and—I missed you.” Beomgyu mumbles, sulky, “You didn’t even come today! Too busy with that guy.” He suddenly furrows his brows at you, glaring, indignant, petulant, as if it was your fault.

You gape at him. “You couldn’t even wait? Didn’t ask me, didn’t even tell me, touching yourself without me there…you brat.” You spit out and tut, shaking your head at him. In hindsight, it wasn’t even that bad. You just wanted any kind of excuse to punish him now. In fact, you’re almost salivating at the sight of beomgyu wearing a pretty pink jewelled butt plug.

He lets out an offended noise, protesting. “I just warmed up a little. I was being…” He almost laughs, playing coy, then looks back up at you innocently, “…proactive.”

“You were being an impatient whore.”

Your eyes drag slowly over to the plug again, taking in how pink and sparkly it is, how snug it looks, how his cute tiny hole must’ve adjusted to it, gently stretched and waiting for you, squirming for hours. God. Beomgyu looked so good with it. It suited him so well.

Beomgyu studies your face, searching your eyes and his face slowly turns into a satisfied grin, regaining some of that usual bratty confidence. “You love it. I know you do.”

You ignore him, watching the screen on the phone, turning to the live chat, smiling cryptically. “What do guys think? Should we still fuck him? Or should we punish him?”

Beomgyu’s smug little smirk falters instantly replaced with a dreaded look. But the chat is already flooding in.

Punish him.

Spank him till he cries >_< 🌸

Slap him until he’s really sorry ! Make sure you don’t fuck him at all.

You grin. Almost everyone says to punish him, that he deserved a spanking instead.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, shaking his head devastated, mortified. “No.” His voice breaks, “Don’t listen to them—please. Please fuck me.”

“They’re saying you should get spanked instead.” You shrug as if it’s all out of your control.

Beomgyu whines again, more pathetic this time, distressed, trying to bring your hand to his dick, grinding up against your hand. “Please—please, baby, I need it so bad, I-i’ve been good-”

You swat your hand away in disgust. Instead, You grip his face roughly, forcing him to look at you, “Do you want to get punished even more?”

Beomgyu recoils like a dejected helpless puppy, knowing he can’t do anything anymore. He slowly flips over onto his stomach and you bend him over your lap.

“You guys are evil.” Beomgyu comically mutters bitterly, casting a betrayed glare at the camera to the viewers before turning it on you. “And you—you’re so mean.” He pouts but accepts his fate.

SLAP !

Beomgyu opens his mouth to say more but his words dissolve into a loud, startled moan as your palm lands on the curve of his small ass with a sharp, echoing smack.

SLAP !

You strike again, spanking beomgyu continuously as he sucks in air loudly, biting his lip, gasping, back arching, trying to hold in the desperate pained whimpers, dick twitching uncontrollably with every smack, thighs quivering.

You spank him again, impossible harder this time, each hit ringing out obscenely, his cheeks painfully reddened and crimson and burning. Sight so pretty with his ass marked and red and the sparkly pink gem nuzzled in between. Your handprint is evident on his ass by now and beomgyu begins to let out muffled cries at your unrelenting slaps, his cock hurting so bad and leaking, rubbing against your thigh from your smacks, smearing his precum there.

“B-baby! Please! S-stop, please fuck me!” Beomgyu mewls and shudders as you still strike him violently, “I-it hurts!” You’re not sure whether he’s talking about his dick or his ass.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to be a needy little slut without permission.” You spank his angry scarlet skin again.

Slap !

Beomgyu full on sobs, tears spilling freely from his eyes, hiccuping, wailing loudly, legs thrashing and shaking his head, “S-sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m s-sorry!”

You gently knead the sore flesh of his ass, then let your fingers toy and play with the plug, slowly, teasingly, you ease it out until the widest part stretches him, then pushing it back in his pretty hole with a wet pop, taking it out and thrusting it fully back in his hole, doing that over and over again, fucking him with the little toy, moving it around in circles.

“Ah-ahh—fuck- baby—” Beomgyu gasps, and jolts at the little pleasure, desperate for anything. He lets out the loudest whorish, slutty moans, mewling high pitched, eyes half lidded. He’s such a terrible, weepy mess.

"Baby...you're so pretty like this,” you coo, sweetly, still continuing with your ministrations of moving the jewelled butt plug around in his ass, grinding it in circles and spanking him raw, “you’re such a slutty whore.”

“O-only for- ah! you.” Beomgyu weeps.

You giggle. “Not for your viewers? You’re so ungrateful, angel.”

“Can I cum? Please, please, please. I’ve been good. Pleaseplease” Beomgyu moans.

“Should we let the poor puppy cum?” You glance at the screen, checking what they’re saying, “…sorry baby, they’re saying no.” You tell beomgyu pitifully, feeling slightly sorry for him.

Beomgyu shakes his head wildly, whole body wracked with sobs, shedding so many tears, heart broken. “No! no no no ! I can’t-”

But he doesn’t even listen, it becomes too much and he can’t hold it in, doesn’t even care, in fact, he’s annoyed at you and viewers for being so cruel to him, defiant. The slapping and playing with his hole and the small rubs against his poor cock makes him lose it, spurting and splattering helpless thick hot creamy copious amount of cum all on your thighs as he shudders, whole body convulsing, still crying and sniffling, his pretty legs trembling delicately like a baby deer.

You blink at him. “Did you just cum anyway?You’re so disobedient!”

Beomgyu whimpers, nervous. And there goes the endless punishments beomgyu receives.

You give beomgyu the best aftercare you can after that, praising him and promising to actually peg him next time.

He doesn’t let go of you, insisting on you both showering together, holding onto each other as the warm water sprays on you both, steam rising around, beomgyu groans at the sensation, head looking dramatically on your shoulder, his hair all damp and the bangs attractively in his eyes as he clings to you even when you try to massage his scalp with shampoo, head hiding in your neck, kissing your shoulders and neck soft and tender, making your heart flutter.

Both of you now lay in his bed and you cuddle him, skin still warm and clean from the shower, wrapping your arm around him, bringing him close your side as you play with his damp hair, whispering sweet things in his hair as he sleepily hums, snuggling closer.

Then beomgyu speaks up suddenly, “Hey,” his voice low and soft.

You tilt your head to look at him. “Hmm?”

Beomgyu shifts to face you, head propped up on his elbow, brows slightly furrowed. “Who is he?”

You blink, confused. “What? Who?”

“Music practice room guy.”

You raise your brow, then answer casually. “Oh, his name is Haechan.”

Beomgyu’s eyes suddenly widen, entire body tensed, getting up instantly, “Haechan?! As in cello playing Haechan?”

You sit up too, utterly confused by now and nod then remembering, “Oh yeah, he actually said he knew you.”

“Y/n.” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp, incredulous. “Do you even know—”

But a loud buzz cuts through the room. His phone screen lights up on the nightstand. Beomgyu frowns and picks it up.

Haechan: I know you’re a camboy, beomgyu. I always knew you were a fucking whore. Just wait until I tell everyone 🤣🤣.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️ At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: yipppiiieee !! It’s finally 😭😭 sorry if the smut is just really badly written and messy I was lowkey not there when writing it. Also there’s probably only one chapter left ! So tell me if there’s certain scenes or stuff you wanted reader and beomgyu to do in terms of sex 🤔 Also you maybe confused about the plot twist but there was kinda a poorly excused hint in one of the earlier chapters on who haechan could be and why 🤔 also someone tell me if I need to add more warnings idk what I missed 😭😭

Taglist: @pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello @cha0thicpisces @soobsfairy444 @lcvetyvn @1ummcalhoody6 @imrllytootiredforthis @bjttersweets @aliceoracleollormusic @yongboksgf @daniarafid @nyanggk @aggiebackstage @qluvr @artypjmlbss @dickdeprived @lilactangerine @kissmeow @katsukeis @shutupheathersorryheatherr @mastergibbs93 @tae-ology @lynanist @guavagyu @soobhns @mikeeel @multistansimp4life @goquokka @scarfac3 @roses-for-my-love @maxismp1 @peachenle @i-loved-you42 @vampcharxter @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @yuhjoeyuh @ren-junwrld @eggeutarteuu @staurdvst @vivioluh @itbtoblikethatsometimes @nct-dreamteam @ixayjun @beomgewwwwww (Ask to be added to the taglist !!)

#cina🌙:reads #txt smut #beomgyu smut #sub!beomgyu #beomgyu hard hours

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cinnamon-won · 1 month ago

Text

dtf.― p.js , s.jy

Jake isn’t a fucking cuck, but damn if you don’t look good with Jay on you like that. Yes, Jay. His arch nemesis. The stupid toned-muscle, nice car driving, fat cock throbbing, pretty lips and seductive voice having, bitchass neighbor… or the one where jay is a super cocky rich neighbor who really, really doesn’t care if jake, your husband, knows how badly he wants to not just fuck you, but both of you. The only thing better than one brat to jay just so happens to be two brats.

PATREON REQUEST | MDNI

WORDCOUNT― 7.4k

PAIRING― sim jaeyun x afab reader (ft.neighbor brat tamer park jongseong)

CONTENT― neighbor au, husband jake, threesome, smut, jayke action, jay tops everyone, jake only tops you.

DISCLAIMER ― there is a lot of emphasis on jayke and the reader is cucking them. i got feral for a bit, pls forgive.

NOTE― JAYKE GIRLIES RISE. p.s. Not entirely proof read, i struggled a lot writing a threesome this time, idk why ;-; pls forgive lil ol sj

SMUT TAGS ― threesome, guy on guy action, anal fingering , pussy eating, cock sucking [jake throats him], overstimulation, jay is a bit more dominant but all three of them are practically a pile of jelly, raw grinding, double vaginal penetration, dick against dick stuff, some guiding/hair tugging [jake receiving], cream pie, squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake stares through his living room window, knowing damn fucking well why his neighbor is outside pretending to pull weeds in his back garden right now. The fact that said neighbor is very aware that Jake is watching him?

It’s pissing him off.

Jay, the cocky, toned torso, asshole is trying to push his buttons standing out there with his shirt off. He just knows it. Those smirks aren’t unnoticed. What’s worse is that those smirks are always directed at him, right before Jay’s eyes are all over you. Jake’s beloved, his fucking wife.

The fact that the idiot next door thinks he’s really gonna do something is borderline psychotic. Being so open about it, so blatantly confident?

All he has to do is fucking ask, but no. He’s being sneaky. Jay flirts with you behind his back, the dude brings you the mail before he can even get outside to do it himself, he brings over extra groceries, he does this, he does that…all because he thinks he can like…have an affair with you or something?

An idiot, is what that guy is. A very, very attractive idiot. It’s not like you and Jake are against having fun with a third, it’s just the fact that Jay is sitting here like you’re some trophy to be won when you’ve already got a goddamn ring on your finger. What’s crazier is that if you were anyone other than you, and Jake was anyone other than him, Jay very well may have already been in a full-blown affair with the wife of whatever neighbor he’d have.

And so, Jake watches, he studies. He knows you’re out back with your book, half naked, specifically because you find it funny that, for once, your husband is jealous.

“You’re taking it personally, he’s just being nice.” You told him months ago. “Jake, Jake. Look what Jay brought over!” You had squealed with glee just last week, presenting him with a cute little row of macaroons. “Don’t be silly, he doesn’t check me out.” You have said at least a million times, knowing full well it’s a lie.

Both of you are very aware of the way you defend him for the sake of possibility.

Well then, what’s this? Jake argues in his head, watching Jay practically turn his head like the fucking exorcist to get an eye full of you lying out under that tree. At this point, Jay isn’t allowed to be a third.

Trying to get his wife to cheat on him?! Hell no.

And the weeks go by with this idea in Jake’s head. Now, he wakes up at the crack of dawn and waits for the mail. Now, he comes home with extra groceries neither of you need. Now, he mows the lawn perfectly, quicker than Jay mows his.

He isn’t going to win you over this way, ever. Maybe, if Jay didn’t have such an ego, this would have been a lot more fun.

Except, Jay kind of does win. Jake mows the lawn, suddenly Jay is planting flowers and offering to plant some for you. Jake checks the mail? Jay gives you coupons from his own stash just in case. Jake comes home with more groceries? Jay just brings you home cooked meals now.

You’re aware of what’s happening, it’s only a matter of time before you let this guy get some. Hell, even Jake knows it. He doesn’t like it, but he knows you do.

It’s the fact that Jake knows the types of men you’re into. If this guy wasn’t so cocky, always trying to one up him, maybe he’d have told you to run along next door and have some fun. But it’s war now.

Full blown war.

Even when you giggle at his anger after weeks upon weeks of petty activities. Trying to calm him down and butter him up, all “C’mon babe, ill even moan louder for you.” and “You’re probably bigger anyway, imagine putting him in his place by fucking me.”

The idea is…nice by this point, after all, how else can Jake win? Because he knows how to fuck his wife, and he’s very, very good at it. Jake won’t be the one inviting him in though, no. Nor will you.

If anything, the idea of embarrassing Jay, making him think he’s won the war by getting you to sleep with him only to realize Jake has been waiting for it to happen?

Now that– that would be hilarious.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It takes the better part of six months for all of this turf war shit to come to a head. Jake almost laughs, watching Jay act like he’s in it for the long run. As if his wife hasn’t been giving him signals since he agreed to the little deal with you.

“If we let Jay fuck you, you better tell him I’m better.” He had argued. Not at all hurt that you want to sleep with the guy, more hurt that it would demolish his ego to not be able to look Jay in the eye and show him how insignificant his role is.

You nodded. And now, six months later with that fucking asshole next door constantly thinking he’s closing in on you, Jake senses the sin in the air.

“Babe, it’s happening!” You had whisper-shouted quickly into the phone before hanging up.

Naturally, Jake was home in record speed, slamming through the front door and rushing to the bedroom. And there it is. Jay jumps back with wide eyes, cock hanging out of his pants as if he’s so guilty, as if this wasn’t his intention. You, smirking on the bed, completely nude, legs spread.

Oh, you sure got his attention this time, and Jake eyes down both of you, trying so hard not to smile.

“It’s not w-” Jay goes to explain himself, face going flushed and hair all fucked up as he stands awkwardly with his hands covering his cock.

Arguably, Jake kind of thinks he looks…well…he gets it. He’ll never admit it to you, nor to Jay, but he gets it. Jay is pretty…he’s maybe even thicker than him too, and his body is toned and near pristine, oh…his mouth.

“It’s about fucking time.” Jake rolls his eyes more at himself than at the neighbor, already lifting his shirt off and flicking his eyes to you. “Was starting to think you really thought you could fuck my wife without me.”

Jay is stunned at first, that’s kind of exactly what he was thinking. Yet– Oh, so the two of you are into this? He was starting to wonder why Jake never came over to kick his ass after consistently trying to get at you. Now he looks between you and your husband, eyes narrowed, smirk appearing.

“Wait,” Jay says, ignoring the way you both can see his cock twitch with interest as he moves his hands away from whatever shame he was feigning. “You’re a fucking cuck? Honestly, I should have known.”

So he still wants to be a cocky asshole about this?

“Oh, no. No, no.” Jake laughs, groping himself as he closes in on Jay. “You will be the one watching.”

Jay rolls his eyes, nodding as if this is some sort of joke.

“Right, right.” He nods, then looks at Jake, scanning his torso before arguing.

“You don’t think it’s weird how wet she already is? I barely touched her–and you.” Jay glances down at Jake’s bulge now, watching how the man rubs against it. “You got hard looking at me, not her.”

Silence.

Jay’s not embarrassed like he was supposed to be. Actually, he’s well aware that he’s right.

Jake stares at him, you stare at him, and he leans back, stretching his arms out before scratching the back of his head.

“If I knew you both wanted me–” He breaks the silence, dropping his eyes to Jake’s bulge again, “maybe i’d have come for you first. Smooth out the friendship, then fuck your wife.”

Why is Jake’s stomach bubbling?

And you. You’re just watching it unfold. Two very beautiful men standing in front of you, gripping their cocks, semi-arguing not just about fucking you, but….fucking each other? About who the cuck is when clearly, it’s you right now?

Oh, Jake’s gonna love him. You think he already does, actually, because you see the way his lip is quivering from here. He does that when he wants to pounce, when he wants to be kissed. You know him well enough, you see his interest, his attraction to the neighbor. All that petty competition turned him to mush within seconds of Jay not backing down.

“Kiss him,” You mumble from the bed, tracing your fingers up and down your thigh. “Jakey, kiss him. He’s really good at it.”

The best part is, you expected Jake to be in one of his moods. When he’s aggressive, bruising with every touch and kiss, but this is…very unexpected. It’s the opposite actually. This is rare even for you to see your husband become docile, nearly submissive. To watch him act like this especially when you have a third in the room. He’s never given up his control when someone else is involved, unless of course, the third is a woman.

The fact that it’s towards Jay is a bit more unexpected. They’ve been silently beating the shit out of each other through domestic acts for so long now, you can argue that Jay will probably hold this over his head forever if it continues.

Toxic masculinity, all that. The competition between men can be very sexy on its own when it involves your body, but seeing your husband practically roll over and be vulnerable too? How lucky for both of you to have someone like Jay living just across the yard.

You can see it in the neighbor’s eyes, someone who is not only willing to participate, but will participate, will take over, will not back down.

Jay’s won the war, but Jake doesn’t really care as much now that he’s seeing what you see in him. Hell, he didn’t even know the guy likes dudes, and the fact that he said he should have gone for him first?

Jake is his type?

Well, Jay is your type, and he’s your husband’s type, and you are their type.

Isn’t this kind of…great?

“Yeah, kiss me.” Jay finally cuts into the silence, waiting for Jake to make his move, the one that will make him give in, the one that’ll essentially land him in the throne that reigns over both of you.

How funny is it that Jake does lean in to kiss him? Jay watches, not at all closing his eyes despite watching Jake close his own. Probably to be passionate, probably to let his own desire take hold. Not quite yet though, Jay thinks. As he can feel Jake’s breath on his cheek, his eyes shoot to you and his hand shoots to the back of Jake’s hair.

He pulls it, keeping eye contact with you as he now, pushes your husband down. He keeps Jake’s face close to his body, making sure he can feel his lips run all the way down, straight against his cock. He holds his head there for a moment, letting it twitch against Jake’s lips before he pushes him down further, sitting him on his knees.

Doing that was strangely difficult though. He could tell Jake would’ve done it. Right here and now, leaving you, his own wife, neglected with her legs all spread out on the bed just to suck a cock?

Thirsty. Both of you. Because don’t think for a second that Jay didn’t see how much you liked watching him do that either. Watching him control your husband.

“Sit.” Jay says against Jake’s near-pout at the act of being dominated. “You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to watch.”

Jake finally blinks up at him and the look kind of floors Jay a little bit by the time he finally lands his eyes back on him. Like, goddamn, he’s so, so fucking submissive looking when his eyes go all glassy like that.

Arguably, Jay is already borderline lustfully obsessed with the idea of fucking you, but your husband? After meeting his glare for so long? There’s something so, so arousing watching him submit like this, all while you’re just lying there, smiling, loving it.

Jay holds back a short chuckle, catching his breath in his throat before he breaks his character even for a moment, showing how much he’s interested too. Gotta stay strong for now.

“Understood?” He tilts his head instead, keeping that grip in Jake’s hair.

Jake nods, now looking at you. Almost apologetically, but you smile at him with a short nod as well, spreading your legs even wider as Jay makes his way over.

“Now,” Jay’s voice goes softer when he speaks to you, one palm landing on your inner thigh and the other against your cheek as he crawls over you. “Where were we?”

Fuck, what a man. You nearly shiver at the touch alone, noting how he’s acting the exact same way as he was before Jake walked in. He’s not acting, he’s not putting on a show to try and one up your husband again, no. This is just…him.

Maybe a bit rough around the edges, but he knows what he’s doing. He’s definitely gotten around, surely.

“Ah, right.” Jay mumbles with a smile, leaning down and letting his lips rest against your neck with a hot breath. “You wanted me to play with you for a little bit, didn’t you?”

You nod again, feeling like if you speak right now, it’ll come out dry and raspy. You did want him to play with you, because if you didn’t ask for it, he may well have already been fucking you when Jake walked in. And that was against the rules.

There had to be a way to hold Jay off. Especially because he was definitely rushing before.

“When’s he coming home?” You recall him saying when he walked through your front door. Truly, he wouldn’t have walked in if you didn’t answer the door the way you did.

Bra and panties, all done up like you were expecting him. He’s a little embarrassed at that though, because he instantly got hard at seeing you like that. Like it was specifically for him. He knew Jake was at work. Who else would it have been for?

He asked that without any indication of you actually seducing him though, it was all assumption. And he was right to assume because, well, he picked up your hints for months. Coming over for sugar wasn’t going to cut it anymore after seeing you open the door like that. You looked at him like that.

He was going to fuck you this time. Months and months of distant flirting had nearly driven him insane by this point too.

“He gets off work in about an hour but, let me use the bathroom first–” You had said in a hushed tone, full-on acting, role playing with a man who didn’t realize it was allowed.

Then, you called your husband with the news as Jay was tearing his belt off on the other side of the bathroom door.

You also recall Jay demanding you take him to your bed when you had tried to go back to the living room. Probably to mark territory or something, and all you could do was comply. After all, your husband was already on his way and you could tell Jay knew he didn’t have a lot of time. He wanted to make it count, no matter how quick he had to be. After all, there was a look in his eye, one that made you feel like he knew it wouldn’t be the only time.

When Jake walked in, your neighbor already had his cock out, slapping it against your clit, grinding up against it, commenting on how pretty you are, how wet you’ve gotten for him, asking how much longer you’re going to make him wait, threatening to put it in and render you breathless– then the door opened, and now here you are.

“Asked me to play with you, as if you weren’t the one playing games with me.” Jay whispers now, a little more aggressively. “No more rushing now, hm?” He adds, slapping his cock right against your clit again before pulling back.

“In that case–” Down he goes, happy that he already pulled both that bra and the panties off of you before Jake even got home, nosing his way straight to your quivering pussy.

Before he lets you feel it though, he looks back, making sure Jake is watching, getting a full view of his half clothed ass before nodding.

“Make yourself useful and get my pants off while I do this.”

No eyes are on Jake as he does as he’s told. In fact, your eyes are rolling back and Jay’s are looking up at you, feeling Jake try and pull at his pants. His tongue, however, is already working wonders. Licking you up and licking you down, between each fold before sucking your clit in his mouth and making it all sensitive, throbbing.

Jake does manage to get his pants off for him, and he stays in his place beside Jay now, waiting, watching. Occasionally his eyes glance down, seeing his neighbor’s heavy cock hang there, neglected, leaking little drops onto the bed.

If Jake was smart about this, he probably wouldn’t be thinking about licking it up, yet here he is, surprising himself time and time again with this side of him. He really, really didn’t expect the situation to turn into this. If at all, he should be the one eating you out right now, he should be the one telling Jay to take off his pants.

Jay should be the one thinking hard about licking cum up. He should be the one neglected.

“Y’know,” Jay suddenly groans against you, voice vibrating your clit. “If she was mine, I wouldn’t share her.” He continues, going back in for another long and languid lick against your hole, waiting for you to moan, practically forcing one from your throat when he dips his tongue inside of you.

And he continues that, closing his eyes this time and focusing on the taste, the feeling of what will soon be wrapped around his cock. It’s like heaven, kind of, having you like this while Jake just sits off to the side. He wonders what your husband must be thinking right now, if he’s into it or growing angry.

“Especially not with you.” He finally adds, leaning back from you and studying the mess he’s made so far before turning his head back to Jake. “Look at her, how could you just watch someone do this to her?”

And, well, the look on Jake’s face kind of bruises his heart a little bit, softens him up. He’s still just blinking up at him, almost as if he’s waiting to be told he can come up from the floor, cock raging so hard in his pants. Jay shakes his head at himself before looking at you.

“Then again, I probably wouldn’t share him either.” He says as he stands on his knees, presenting his cock to you, grabbing your hand and guiding it straight to him before addressing your husband again. “Come up here.”

Jake practically leaps onto the bed now, getting an eye full of how your hand barely wraps around the girth of this man, and he stares. And stares, and almost entirely forgets that he’s the husband in this situation, this is his room, his bed, and his wife.

And Jay is his neighbor. His extremely, insufferable, sexy fucking neighbor.

“Look at you.” Jay seethes as he fixes his posture tall and strong above you, lip tucked between his teeth briefly at the gentle grip you twist around the head of his cock. “Both of you.” He adds, now grabbing Jake by his hair again, this time pulling his face straight to his own.

“You still wanna kiss me?” He says now, Jake nodding instantly.

You watch the way your husband leans in, almost moaning in relief when his lips meet Jay’s. It’s messy, extremely intimate to see up close like this. It turns you on somehow more to see Jake act the way you do when he’s left you neglected for a few minutes too long. Desperate, kind of argumentative with his pouting and moaning.

Gripping Jay harder, you urge them on, watching their tongues reach the point of messy drooling, their chins wet, Jake probably tasting your pussy on Jay’s lips. And god, when Jay moans into it, probably due to the speed in which you’re now jerking him off, even you moan in response.

There’s something about seeing him get into it, ignoring the fact that he’s appeared calm and collected this whole time.

Yeah, he’s definitely getting into it. He grabs Jake’s hair harder, kisses him deeper when you circle your fist at the head of his cock, collecting the precum so you can slide back down to the base. And fuck, when you watch him now, reaching out, grabbing Jake through his pants?

You whine, wanting more than just lying here watching.They’re so into it and you’re just…here witnessing it. You want them to kiss you too, you want them both on you, working you open, making you feel good too. But you’re briefly ignored in this moment as Jay starts rutting his hips, fucking your fist at a pace that makes it hard to jerk him off.

And Jake…god, you knew you married him for a reason. Look at him, barely kissing back now, just slack jawed as Jay palms between his legs for him, licking into his mouth before moving down, kissing his neck, biting his shoulder.

That’s it. You’re losing your damn mind right now, pulling your hand back and sitting yourself up on the bed. Jay doesn’t even flinch at the loss, and just kisses Jake harder to make up for it.

Your eyes stay glued to them as you now move yourself forward, poking and podding your husband first, who ignores you entirely because he’s, well, lost in it. Very into it. Still slack jawed, still reeling from finally being touched.

You move your attention to Jay, poking and prodding him instead, and he pays attention. Grabbing your curious hand and pulling you roughly against him. You smile at the movement, understanding that he’s clearly still the one in control here, and whining for your husband may not be in the cards right at this moment.

He’s just like you, you’re just like him.

Just seconds later, you push back again, wanting to encourage more than this, wanting to see more, feel more. You start working Jake’s pants off and practically push Jay’s hand away from him, only now do they both pause, watching your hands pull out his cock. Still he moans at it, skin on skin, and you hold it there, looking up at him, glancing at Jay, then back down.

“Stop leaving me out.” You mumble.

Jake finally snaps out of it at that, lips feeling tingly as he watches you, guilt bubbling up that he lost it there for a second. Jay, on the other hand, is kind of reeling at how jealous the two of you get. Yet, still you’re both entirely into him as much as you are each other, it seems.

It’s only natural that you’ll whine for Jake when he’s too busy kissing the man who is supposed to be on you right now, but no worries. None at all, Jay likes it. He understands.

“Awh,” Jay coos, pushing his hips forward and bumping your hand with it, making sure the head of his cock meets Jake’s before continuing the act. Rutting again and again, messing your hand with the mix of precum and arousal. “Did he leave you out?”

They both did, but something about the way Jay’s voice sounds when he asks, so soft yet still cocky. Charming, because even Jake nods at that before skewing his head to you, dragging his own hand down to hold it over yours before allowing Jay to slide his length into the tight space.

You feel it when your husband leans in to kiss you now, as if he’s apologizing. Too worked up to say it, and can only act on his apology. Warm lips enveloping yours with a heated, near desperate kiss, then he starts immediately fucking up. You can feel it, the way their cocks meet and keep the mess of hands holding them together slick and wet for this.

Jay is stuck watching this time, and he can’t decide on whether he should watch the way you manage to overpower Jake in the kiss, or the way you and your husband are both holding both cocks so tightly just so he can fuck up and against the under side of Jake’s.

Jesus. All three of you have a bit of a pit in your stomach, especially when you manage to slip your hand out and allow Jake to control the mess in the middle as you, now, turn from Jake’s kiss with the intention of kissing Jay now.

Finally, you’re not left out, finally, there’s two cocks out in the open, rubbing against each other with a wet, pornographic sound.

“Oh, needy.” Jay comments when you kiss him just as harshly as you did Jake, you can feel his smirk on your lips but he quickly falls into the kiss too. And that’s when Jake absolutely loses it, finding you so pretty, both of you, so, so, so pretty like that when he’s feeling so good.

And now, a small pause. You pull back for a breath and get a good look at both of them. Their attention is no longer on each other, it’s on you. Both pairs of eyes shining at you as they continue to jerk their weeping length off against one another, and suddenly, you’re shy.

There’s a hunger in Jay’s eye, a need in Jake’s, and only now do you lay back again, spreading your legs open wide, and using your fingers to spread your pussy out the same way.

“Jakey–” You call out to him, wiggling your hips and presenting it to him first, “look–”

Jay shivers when he looks first, seeing how much wetter you’ve become.

“Yeah, Jakey,” He echoes your words, grabbing him by the hair again since he seems to like that and guiding his face straight to your hole, “look at it.”

Being guided isn’t something Jake allows often, but he doesn’t mind so much now with his face being nuzzled into a cunt he knows so, so well by another man. Fuck, he barely was able to catch his breath before it was knocked out of him again. He licks out immediately anyway, and makes himself comfortable, hands and knees, lapping away like a happy little pup.

Jay studies you closely when Jake does his thing, the way you lazily watch him, the way your chest rises and falls with deep, meaningful moans that shows he knows his way around your body, and he knows how to pleasure it. So, now he averts his eyes to Jake, his body, his waist, his ass.

He’s got so much to work with between the two of you. And so, he pushes Jake’s head into you further, roughly rubbing his nose into the mess, making you moan, and hoping he’s enjoying himself because he’s sure he might pull back when he–

Jake does pull back slightly, but that arch in his back doesn’t go unnoticed either. A saliva slicked finger pushes, circling his rim before pushing in.

“Fuck–” Your husband groans with a shiver, his cheek against your clit, resting his head briefly there as if to prepare of the welcomed intrusion.

And it goes on like that for a bit longer than you had expected. All of this is happening in a way you weren’t expecting, actually. There’s a sense of control here, but it’s gentle, almost careful with intention. Somehow, Jay’s attention stays on Jake, maybe as a form of apology, or maybe to assert his dominance now that he, at the very least, has you where he wants you.

Your eyes glisten at your neighbor, blinking at him as he pleasures both of you. He seems to be enjoying himself, looking back at you all while using Jake as an extension of himself, and of course, finger fucking him to the point Jake can’t stop rutting back against the pleasure.

Arguably, Jay may not know what exactly to do with all of holes willing to let him fuck them. But, also, none of you are short on time.

This can happen as many times as you want, hopefully.

“Mhm, that’s right–” Jay groans now, nearly rolling his eyes at how tightly Jake’s ass hugs his single digit. He reaches around him now rather than guiding his head, holding his waist and leaning over him, aggressively fucking his finger in, finding his prostate in a near instant just to toy with it.

“You ever heard him cry before?” Jay now averts his eyes to you with an amused tone.

You shake your head, a mess at how fast Jake works his tongue on you through the pleasure, your hands now finding your way into his hair to rub his nose in it even more.

“Ever see him cum untouched?”

Another shake of your head.

“No?” Jay smiles, tilting his fingers up, assaulting Jake’s prostate and within seconds, you note the way your husband starts writhing between your legs.

His tongue is sloppy, he’s moaning so loudly that he can barely catch his breath, and Jay immediately pulls his fingers out before aggressively lifting Jake up and away from you by his arms, letting you see the cum spurting out of him, sending tremors and shivers from his toes to the top of his head.

“Oh–” You groan, squeezing your legs together at the image, watching Jake grow frustrated at his ruined orgasm despite the cum still dripping out of him.

You’ve never seen him look so ruined, and the way Jay presents him to you so proudly kind of…well, he really did it. As if on command, making your husband both cum and cry. There’s clearly some things both of you could learn from Jay.

“Now, stop neglecting her.” Jay’s tone comes out far more demanding now, ignoring the way Jake’s cock weeps with sensitivity now, once again guiding him, except this time, when Jake holds back as if to rest for a moment, Jay’s demands are directed at you.

“Fuck him.”

Well, who would say no to that?

You take it upon yourself now to push your husband back, letting his head hang off the bed as Jay helps you lay him out, and instantly you sit. Grinding your bare, soaked pussy against his half-flaccid length.

Jake does whine through it, shooting his hands up to you and not even knowing himself if he wants more, or if he needs you to slow down, or to stop entirely. His hands are frantic, breaths are uneven, his eyes going from wide open, to rolling back, to squeezing shut.

He looks panicked, confused, stunned.

“Stop thinking,” Jay instructs him, whispering sweetly as he pulls himself off the bed to get a good look at the blood rushing to the top of Jake’s head as it hangs there.

Your husband is kind of thankful, happy to be a bit mindless in this moment because suddenly, it does feel good, feeling someone so familiar sinking down on him all in one go. So wet, so warm, so his. It doesn’t seem so bad to let someone else think for him right now either.

He tries to lift his head to see you still, but he starts seeing lights, going a bit dizzy as you gently ride yourself on him.

You are trying to adjust as he grows harder inside of you, stretching you open and giving you the fulfillment you’ve been needing since all of this started. You moan, trying to be compassionate about this, especially knowing he’s about to be toyed with even further, by both of you.

Jay nods at you with a smile, as if encouraging you to go faster, to take what you need from him.

Then his eyes flick between both of you, cock in hand, he stands up slightly, aligning it perfectly with Jake’s lips. Poor guy is so dizzy he probably doesn’t even notice yet, but Jay communicates with you. That same cocky smirk, a raised right eyebrow, and a tilt of his head.

He’s asking you for permission…to put it in?

“Yes, yes, yes.” You moan as you bounce and frantically nod your head, trying to regain breath at the sheer idea of it. “Baby,” You groan now, unsure if Jake can even hear you at this point. “Open your mouth.”

You can’t see his face, and god how you wish you could because of Jay’s reaction in particular. The way he taps his cock, pushing forward, probably sliding into his mouth now. It’s the way he holds both sides of Jake’s head when he does it, the way his eyes are laser focused, his abs flexing in silent pleasure, his slow release of a very faint moan.

Man, fuck, you’ve always wanted to see your husband suck someone off, but he never has. He’s only ever allowed it to happen to him, only ever made someone else suck him off.

“Oh, good boy,” Jay moans now at the feeling of Jake’s tongue frantically lapping, despite how crowded his mouth is becoming. And he throws his head back at the pleasure, now going to hold the bottom of Jake’s chin, tilting his head back further to angle the position, thrusting straight down his throat. “So, so good–”

Jay notes how he needs to just, like, shut the fuck up now. Even he, at this point, is losing it. This wasn’t something he actually thought Jake would let happen, yet…look at him. Fuck, look at you. Drinking up the image, eyes so dark and crazed that he’s using your husband like this–

That you’re both using Jake like this.

You’re bouncing, riding, chasing, staring off at him as if you’re some sort of feral animal happy to take what you can get Then, Jake, choking and gagging around him as he moans in pleasure at the same time, spit bubbling out at the sides of his mouth, dripping down and into his hair and he probably loses the ability to think at all if his hands are anything to go by.

Scratching at his own body, gripping the sheets, reaching out for something, for anyone to hold him through it.

All that blood split between his head and his cock…it’s so obvious, and you’re still chasing, getting enough but at the same time, knowing you can have more.

Something snaps in Jay as he watches you. He’s lot the plot a bit, taking a liking to Jake, seeing how far he can push the boundary just because he can, almost forgetting how fucking badly he’s wanted you.

You.

He hasn’t even fucked you yet, he seriously let Jake do it first?

“Jesus,” Jay groans out of frustration now, fucking into Jake’s throat one last time and holding it there as he stares forward at you. He ignores the choking sounds, the desperate searches for breath only because it feels, so, so fucking good.

“Alright, alright.”

You’re a bit confused at the way Jay talks more to himself than at you or your husband, but you hear a sputter when he pulls back, walking to stand at the side of the bed and leaving Jake to deal with the aftermath of whatever lashing his throat just took in stride.

You pause your bouncing, watching him curiously.

“Scoot back a bit,” Jay says now, helping you scoot back, helping Jake get his head back on the bed so he can regain whatever humanity he has left in it.

And then, Jay is positioning himself behind you, allowing you to essentially plant yourself back onto your husband before he’s forcing his own cock in alongside him. Without warning, without helping you stretch out more.

You fall forward with a yelp, now just as breathless as Jake is when you hug against him tightly, burying your nose in his neck, feeling his heartbeat right against your lips there.

“Jake,” You whisper as you desperately search for comfort, feeling Jay stretch you out. “Oh, fuck–”

Jake nods his head slightly, now willing to take whatever this guy is going to give to the two of you. After all, he’s taken the brunt of Jay’s attack by now, he’s sure you’ll love it as much as he does. So, he wraps his arms around you in a comforting way, essentially trapping you in place, whispering a short, breathless hum of, “feels so good baby, when you squeeze around us like that–”

That ignites you as you nuzzle further into your husband’s neck, unable to stop squeezing around them. It fucking hurts, it hurts so badly, but–

Fuck. Jake wants it. Jay wants it.

You want it.

Jay watches the mess in front of him, the way you both writhe and cling as he makes room for himself, fucking roughly forward, sliding with intentional pushes to stretch you open just enough to fit all of him alongside Jake.

Seeing your cunt try and handle it, the way you grip, stretch, and instinctively try to push him out? It’s too much for you, but just right for all three of you, he thinks, as he makes eye contact with Jake and gets a drowsy nod.

He watches the way Jake holds you tighter, forcing an arch too. Ugh, what a good man he is.

“Yeah.” He moans, now picking up a rhythm as you both start moaning in near unison, “Hold her just like that for me.”

And, well, you wanted to be fucked by them both but preferably not like this. At first anyway. You shock yourself when you call out, moaning so loudly it leaves a ringing in your ear. There’s rubbing up against something so sensitive inside of you, both cocks pulsing, stretching you beyond belief, and you…like it?

It feels good now. Too good.

Your moans come out as cries as Jay continues, and both men seem to be falling in love with the sound of it. So much so that, even Jake now ruts his hips up with a cheeky smile, encouraged by Jay’s praise to keep going, all so he can feel you squeeze, and squeeze, and try to push them out.

And goddamn, does it feel good to have a cock rubbing against him in such a tight, wet little hole. Even Jay now starts whining with you.

Moaning, a mess, all fucking three of you. Finally, Jay has broken out of character, fucking forward fast, hard, near thoughless. It renders Jake unusable as he tenses up under you, holding you through it, babbling out filthy words of how full you must feel now that his cum is spilling out.

“Feel that, baby?” He whines so quietly, and you do feel it. Arguably, so does Jay.

You’re barely able to breathe through it, suddenly feeling fingers in your hair that pull you back. You can feel Jay’s chest breathing rigidly on your back, and now you both stare down at Jake.

He looks so lost in it, and yet still, Jay demands.

Well, he pleads.

“Keep going,” Jay directs at Jake, well aware of his orgasm, slowing his hips to keep himself from cumming too, and groping both of your tits to hold you in place. “Fuck up, faster, let me feel it.” He continues, now landing a sloppy, drooling bite against your shoulder.

And you watch your husband, something igniting yet again in his eyes as he does just that, grabbing your hips and letting his hips rut up, freely.

“Fuck yes,” Jay moans for him before biting against your neck now. “You gonna cum too?”

Okay, yeah, maybe Jay is trying to rush it now. He wants to be the last one to release, and if you don’t get there soon, he’s going to fucking embarrass himself. Thankfully, you nod frantically like a good little wife, dropping a hand down and simply pressing your clit before your legs start shaking.

Both men feel it, the way you tense up, and they both put all of their energy into it.

You hold your breath through the orgasm, never having felt so full like this. It just keeps coming, and coming until–oh.

“Ahh–” Jake looks at you in surprise, lip now pulled between his teeth as he throws his head back again, dizzy, so fucking sensitive. His wife just fucking squirted.

For the first time, you did it. After years and years of both of you trying to figure it out.

Jay doesn’t even know what to think about it, feeling you cum around him as Jake’s cock struggles to keep up through the pain, all around him and against him, the splash of wet pushing out against him, dripping down onto Jake.

It’s so messy, so fucking dirty.

Holy fuck. He can’t, he can’t keep holding back.

You’re so sensitive when you fight through it, Jake even moreso, and Jay loves it as his hips demand an abusive pace. Pushing in, out, so deeply, so fucking hard inside of you, mixing around the mess of cum before–

The bruising grip on your hip tells you more than the twitching inside of you, and Jake practically starts crying in pain at the rawness of it all. Jay, shaking, releasing all of it with tight, jerking thrusts before finally, he slumps over you. Sandwiching you between both himself and your loving, exhausted, absolutely docile husband.

Out of breath, out of fucking mind really, you don’t even move.

You don’t clean up, hell, you don’t even open your eyes after that as you catch your breath between the tight mess of bodies.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

After that day, things kind of…changed.

Jake is more needy. He’s still dominant for you when you need it, but it’s kind of a welcome change from time to time. Having him act all sweet and sloppy, as if he can no longer control it when the time is right and you’re looking particularly mean.

Threesomes don’t take place quite as often these days though. With other people, anyway. As to be expected considering no one has ever actually participated quite like he did.

Jay has also become a bit more gentle too. Still openly getting his eyes on you every chance he gets, but Jake doesn’t mind near as much simply because he knows Jay checks him out too. The sexual tension is always felt between houses, and always satiated in one room or another.

Once even on the back porch in the dead of the night, but still.

The time spent with Jay now is a lot less…um, erratic. Jay learns the two of you the same way you both learn him, and there have even been a few times since where Jake was the one toying with you both.

Even a time where you were the one in control.

It’s comfortable, fun, equal. To the point neither of you really look for a third anymore, after all, you’ve got the perfect match just across the yard, right?

Jay: hey jakey boy, come over, bring our wife

Jake waves his phone in front of your face. It’s been weeks since the last time the three of you played. In fact, Jay has been kind of flaky about it lately, responding too late to texts, or simply declining.

Nevermind the fact that Jay always claims you as his wife too when things get, well, sexual. It’s not like he doesn’t do the same shit to Jake, calling him his husband, chuckling, being soft about it. It’s the fact that it had been weeks, both you and your husband were starting to feel a bit heartbroken about it, actually.

And when two of you do go over, expecting lots of sex and even more questions about why Jay is being so weird lately, they’re hit with romance? With dinner on the stove and candles on the fucking table?

Jay wants in.

Commitment.

Permanence.

#cina🌙: tbr list #can’t wait to munch on this one

2K notes · View notes

cinnamon-won · 1 month ago

Text

proving a point (and kind of failing) – p.sh

. . ? sunghoon gets handcuffed (hell yeah) – smut / minors dni ; 828 words

cw handcuffs , afab reader , handjob , orgasm denial , unprotected sex , a lil bit of dumbification

🗯️ yk the drill , this isnt proof read – it wasn't even supposed to be this long but my pretentious ass got poetic n ended up writing more than expected .. n then i got bored n sleepy so it became kind of ass idk honestly .. not proud of this one but i'll live i need to allow myself to be a mediocre writer bc at the end of the day its not that deep

handcuffing sunghoon to the bed's headrest , restraining him n saying for once you are going to be in charge ,, when really , you both know sunghoon is merely granting you the illusion of power , for his own amusement , his eyes following your every action waiting for the moment you'll cave in n admit defeat , letting him take control again .

it's all a game to sunghoon , n maybe to you too – but it's also a matter of proving yourself .

you straddle sunghoon's hips , stubbornly ignoring his sweet , sweet voice as he plays his part , pleading for you to hurry up and touch him already in a whiny tone that feels almost mocking.

'shut up,' you retort as you drag sunghoon's boxers down his legs , leaving them around his knees without much care . sunghoon is right, in a way : you do have to hurry up , not dwell for too long on the details, take what you want without giving it more than half a thought to not let your resolve crumble and let him take control again .

sunghoon bites back a whine as your fingers wrap around his dick. for a second – it feels like an eternity to him – you just stay there , running your fingertips along the circumference of his cock, tracing its details as if you need to map it out, as if your body, your insides haven't already memorized its every single millimeter , to exhaustion.

'i told you to hurry,' sunghoon lifts his hips, searching for more friction that you don't grant him as you retract your hand with a smirk.

'and i,' you actually wrap your hand around sunghoon's cock now, giving it the smallest squeeze before pumping it once. 'told you to shut up.'

you don't know how your voice doesn't shake , how you manage to meet sunghoon's eyes as you start to slowly , painfully drag your hand up and down his length , to hold his gaze when you pick up the pace and he finally – or at least , for a moment – gives in , tilting his head back and letting you take your time with him .

it's not long before sunghoon feels the incipit of an orgasm building up in him . in his defense , he's been rock hard ever since he got in this predicament, if not before you even told him you wanted to take charge for the night . sunghoon just thinks you're the hottest person to ever walk earth, and anything you do could get him bricked up without you even trying to.

just as sunghoon is about to voice just how close he is , your touch disappears again , a satisfied smile creeping on your face when you hear him groan in disappointment.

'you just have to be a little patient,' you reassure him , your nails lightly scraping the inside of his thighs.

you lift your hips slightly and push your panties to the side , you grind down on sunghoon's cock and let your wetness coat it , your legs shaking when his tip bumps into your clit before you finally align it to your entrance and let yourself sink down on him slowly .

so agonizingly slow sunghoon genuinely feels like he's about to go insane . he uselessly pulls at his restraints , the urge to hold you , grab your hips and pull you down onto his cock all at once almost unbearable as he feels you take him centimeter by centimeter , clenching around him .

you hold back your own moans , trying so hard to mantain the dominant role you've taken up , despite how feeling so full , so close to sunghoon is enough to reduce your brain to mush .

'sunghoon' you call out , bracing yourself on his toned stomach so you can lift yourself up just to immediately slam down – it's too fast , and slightly painful , but you need it , immediately missing the fullness when you raise your hips .

'what is it, baby?' there it is . that tone , the condescension that had been barely shining thigh his words earlier , now clear as day even in your fogged up brain .

your frown, grinding your hips as you try to form a coherent thought. 'it's...' you don't manage to finish the sentence, half trailing off , half interrupted by sunghoon bucking his hips up to distract you . this motherfucker .

sunghoon is now shooting you a smug smile , a raised eyebrow as if he's challenging you . he looks back at the handcuffs for a moment. 'whenever you want, baby.' he reminds you , voice softer .

you decide that fuck it , you can't take it anymore. fuck being in charge, fuck your pride and fuck sunghoon – literally and figuratively.

it's not long before you have freed sunghoon from his restraints , leaving sweet , delicate kisses on the marks that have formed on his wrists before his hands find your hips , moving them for you as he holds you close to his chest , his mouth busy licking and kissing along your neck to muffle his moans as he finally gets to fuck you properly.

#i love this #cina🌙:reads #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen sunghoon

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cinnamon-won · 1 month ago

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Last week of exams and then the first thing I’m going to do is change my pfp theme. Lowkey getting bored of the cute pink, might go for blue ocean vibes next.

Also going to get through the asks piled up in my inbox - didn’t realise I had so many ✋

There’s a couple requests in there too so at least I have something to do after exams

(If anyone else wants to send any requests please send them now, I’ll be closing requests after exams so I can slowly work through them all)

#cina🌙: rambles #enhypen hard hours #txt hard hours #can’t wait for these stupid exams to be done #promise I’ll get through the requests asap

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cinnamon-won · 2 months ago

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GUESS WHO GOT TICKETS TO SEE ENHYPEN IN LONDON 🤭

#enhypen #cina🌙: rambles #literally cannot contain how excited I am #ITS GONNA BE SO GOOD

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cinnamon-won · 2 months ago

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you broke me first - l.hs

pairing: virgin!lee heeseung x experienced fem!reader

synopsis: you and heeseung are the school’s golden pair — popular, admired, and constantly shipped. the only problem? you can’t stand him. from competing on exams to gym class, you’re always neck and neck, and no one gets under your skin like he does. but while you see a rival, he sees the love of his life. when you overhear a hushed conversation that breaks you, will heeseung be able to win you back?

featuring: all of enha, winter from aespa, yuqi from (g)i-dle, and keeho from p1h

genre: angst... slow burn, some fluff, kissing, skinship, SMUTTTT, college au, first love trope?? sorta? one sided enemies to lovers

warnings: smut so mdni (18+), alcohol consumption, vandalizing property, Sexual Tension, everyone is around the same age (21-23), lowercase intended <3

playlist: you broke me first by tate mcrae & what was i made for — billie eilish

(smut warnings under cut!)

wc: 13.271k

a/n: first fic is here! plsplspls leave feedback as anything helps!! was listening to you broke me first and got inspo for a kinda angsty fic pls bare with me :3 anyways! enjoy the read <3<3

smut content: mention of toys (but no use), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex (not for you), dry humping, switch! hee and reader, riding, mating press, too much kissing, masturbation (m.), breeding kink, slight dacryphilia, oral (m. & f.), deepthroating, belly bulge, creampie, size kinkish, big dick! hee, not much aftercare but it's like fluffy, y/n has a “reputation” that she gets around, VIRGIN HEESEUNG (but no one knows…) i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything ◡̈

not proofread!

lee. fucking. heeseung. you hate him. you can't stand him. he always knows what to say just to piss you off. you might be wondering, "why don't you just try to avoid him?" the issue is... you do. you try with ALL your power but to no avail, he's in the same friend group as you.

your friends, knowing you hate him, decided to combine friend groups to see if you and him could mend things. spoiler alert: it failed miserably.

you felt safe in your small circle with keeho (the man you deemed to be your biological older brother — you aren't related), yuqi (your junior high best friend), and winter (your literal wife).

you guys were well known around the entire city of seoul for being the "it group" — always partying, hooking up, and somehow still acing every class (while nursing massive hangovers).

however, heeseung's friend group consisted of the golden boys in decelis university: park jongseong (known as jay, he hates his given name), sim jaeyun (known as the australian transfer student, jake), park sunghoon (the insanely hot figure skater), kim sunoo (the bubbliest person you've ever met), yang jungwon (the boy with feline features, however you've made a special note to never piss him off cause he has a black belt), and nishimura riki (known as ni-ki because he wanted to be different).

you loved riki. he was like your younger brother — chaotic, blunt, and always three steps ahead of everyone. you’d even joked once that if you had to suffer heeseung’s presence, at least you got riki out of it.

unfortunately, riki had the worst habit of instigating chaos.

“truth or dare?” he asked one friday night, grinning like he already had your life planned out. everyone was crammed into jay’s ridiculously large basement, music low, snacks half eaten, and bodies sprawled on beanbags and plush carpet.

you should’ve said “truth.” you knew you should’ve. but you weren’t a coward.

“dare,” you answered, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

the group erupted in ooooh's in perfect synchronicity.

riki’s grin only widened. “i dare you to sit on heeseung’s lap for five minutes.”

you almost lunged across the room.

“riki,” you hissed, “you are so dead.”

he just wiggled his brows suggestively. “i’m a baby. you wouldn’t hurt me.”

the worst part? he was right.

you looked over at heeseung, who was watching you like a cat watching a cornered mouse — lazy smirk, fingers casually drumming against his knee. “scared, sweetheart?”

“i’ll kill you in your sleep,” you said sweetly as you stalked over and dropped yourself into his lap like he was made of cardboard and air.

he oofed, not because you were heavy, but because he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.

“wow,” he murmured, lips near your ear. “you smell like citrus and bad decisions.”

you resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

five minutes. you just had to survive five minutes.

but then his hands casually settled on your waist, and you felt it — the spark. the electric, traitorous, goddamn spark that told you this was a very, very bad idea.

because maybe, just maybe, your hatred wasn’t as pure as you thought- no. what are you thinking??? you immediately shook the feeling that was buzzing inside you and blamed it on the alcohol swimming in your blood.

you definitely. hated heeseung. yup, yeah, you really did.

heeseung on the other hand? he was just praying to every god he could think of that you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were getting.

because he was panicking. full blown, internal screaming, oh-no-she’s-sitting-on-me-and-she’s-warm kind of panicking. he hadn't expected you to actually follow through on your usual threats, much less practically straddle him in front of your mutual friends.

but now? now he was just trying to not pass out from the sheer force of your perfume and presence and the weight of years of unresolved tension that sat heavier than you ever could.

"you're sweating," you said flatly, side eyeing him with that expression that usually meant murder or mockery — or both. "you good?"

"totally," he croaked. "i always nearly die when beautiful people threaten me. it's, like, my thing."

you blinked once. twice.

"did you just call me beautiful?"

"i said what i said," he muttered, then immediately regretted everything.

your brows lifted in slow, dangerous amusement. "you feeling okay, heeseung? you hitting on me while i’m threatening you?”

“wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, almost too quiet for you to hear.

and there it was again. the spark. like a lighter flicked too close to your frayed nerves.

you looked away, choosing to focus on literally anything else, but his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you, almost daring you to acknowledge it.

“how much longer do i have to sit on this assholes lap?” you questioned under your breath, reminding yourself, reminding him, that this was temporary.

"4 minutes!" jake sang back as his accented voice rang in your ears. fuck, it's only been one minute? you thought to yourself... until he spoke.

“i could ruin us in three,” he whispered, warm breath tickling your ear. he was so close you could practically feel his labored breathing against your back. you craned your neck to the side so you could look him in the eyes, "what did you just say???" heeseung was at a loss for words — his brain only drawing blanks.

did he say what he thought he said in his head out loud? impossible. he's hidden it so well, no one in your guys' shared friend group had even suspected his overbearing attraction towards you.

so heeseung did the only thing he could think of. he gulped.

just as your gaze dropped to his adams apple, sunghoon cleared his throat, reducing the fiery tension between you two to reduce to a simmer. "time's up" he stated. and just like that, the warmth you once shared was gone.

as the game progressed, the most interesting things to occur were jake kissing sunghoon on the cheek, riki vandalizing an old alley way that never saw the sun, and winter lady-and-the-tramping a twizzler with keeho.

you and heeseung never dared to even spare a glance in each other's direction for the rest of the night.

───

you laid awake, staring at the ceiling in jay's basement while trying to get comfy on the leather couch that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. you couldn't sleep. and the reason? none other than your self-proclaimed arch nemesis: lee heeseung.

your friend groups slept on different floors to prevent you and heeseung arguing and waking up the entire house. you slowly got up, attempting and (barely) succeeding to not step on a sleeping figure sprawled on the floor.

as you walk up the stairs from the basement, you hear two people whisper shouting at each other.

you glance at the time displayed on your phone.

a measly 3:16 am stared brightly at you. who's awake at this hour?? as you step closer to the hushed voices, you think you can make out the unmistakeable deepness of riki's voice and heeseung's annoying(ly hot) whispers, tinged with sleep.

"why the fuck would you dare HER of all people to sit on MY lap????" heeseung shouts quietly, clearly frustrated. riki bursts into a fit of giggles. "dude, don't tell me you feel something for her, don't you guys like hate each other?" he says between snide little chuckles.

heeseung freezes. there's no way riki really caught on to what he was supposed to never let slip through the cracks... right?! so he musters up all the dignity he has left and defensively grunts a series of defenses "nowhywouldieverseeherlikethatsheisn'tmytypeandithinkshe'sgross"

riki blankly stares back at heeseung's panicking eyes, "okayyy," he drags the word out, "you don't need to put her down like that, she's like my older sister, dude" riki spits back.

your lips twitch in a small smile, just for a second. just long enough for riki to catch your eyes peeking behind the corner. he nods once, subtle and solid. always in your corner.

but the comfort dies as soon as heeseung opens his mouth.

"i could never love someone like her."

and the world stops.

he says it so casually. almost like it’s a joke. like it's just another throwaway comment tossed between drinks and half-meant insults. but it lands with the weight of something cruelly true — or at least, something you believe he means.

you feel the breath hitch in your throat. just once.

riki's gaze is drawn to your frozen frame. and that's when everything freezes. heeseung whips around to see you standing there. eyes blown and glossy.

riki shifts, but he doesn’t move to try and console you — he knows better. knows this is something that'll bruise. something you need time to process, alone.

you bite back tears. “right,” you say, quietly. “of course.”

heeseung’s expression flickers — confusion, regret, something else — but you’ve already masked the pain. emotion draining from your face like you’ve trained for it. like it’s a sport. like if you stop moving, the hurt will catch up.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says, a little too late, a little too soft.

you readjust your posture, fixing your shirt.

“you meant it exactly like that,” you reply, and it’s not even bitter. it’s worse. numb.

riki’s there before heeseung can say anything else. standing between you like a wall. like a shield.

“walk away,” he tells you gently, and you do.

because if you stay, you might ask him why not. and you’re not sure your heart could take the answer.

riki turns back to heeseung, flames he's never seen before burning in the younger boys irises that are normally filled with mischief and teasing glints. but all of a sudden none of that is there anymore. it's pure, unfiltered anger. raw emotion.

heeseung wants him to yell at him. say something, anything. but nothing comes. riki just walks upstairs like he doesn't even know who heeseung is anymore.

and maybe he doesn't.

───

the next morning, when heeseung wakes up, it's almost peaceful. until rain begins to tip tap on the roof and everything comes crashing down. his chest is tight and immediately swells with regret. so much he thinks it'll spill out of him just like the rain outside.

he needs to talk to you. make sure you're okay. but he knows he's the last person you want to see right now. still, he has to try

as he descends down the stairs, he doesn't smell the usual feast jay would prepare them: eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and cereal for jake since he claims, "it doesn't hurt his tummy," (his words).

he actually doesn't see jake. nor sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, jay, winter, yuqi, or keeho.

after last nights events, he expected not to see riki as he was probably with you.

how did he go from having the girl of his dreams sitting on his lap, to making her hate him even more?

it's simple, really: he fucked up.

he moves through the house like a ghost — rooms too quiet, air too still. no laughter, no music playing off someone’s phone. just him and the rain.

the basement still has the blanket you’d curled up with last night. your mug — half full. he picks it up, and it’s cold. like him.

he tries to call riki. no answer.

he tries to call you.

it goes straight to voicemail.

he types out a text. deletes it. tries again.

“i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n”

he stares at it. sends it.

and immediately regrets it. because what if you never answer?

as he packs up all his belongings, ready for the uncomfortable drive home, someone enters the house.

heeseung's heart rate picks up. what if it's you? he bolts down the stairs and is ultimately disappointed when he's met with a very disapproving jay.

they stand across from one another, staring into each others eyes.

heeseung's the first to break. he collapses on the bar stool at the counter and drops his head into his hands like it weighs a ton.

jay just sighs and sits down next to his friend.

"is she okay?" heeseung mumbles, his face buried in his hands.

jay’s jaw tightens. "why do you care?" he snaps. "you sure as hell didn’t last night when you said you could never love someone like her."

the words hit hard — harder than jay intended — and heeseung shatters.

the sobs break out of him like a dam giving way, loud and raw. tears stream down his face, and the sound of it makes jay flinch, caught off guard by how real the pain is. how broken heeseung suddenly looks.

still, jay moves without thinking, reaching out and rubbing slow circles on his friend’s back. it doesn’t fix anything, but it softens the edges of the moment.

they sit there in silence, the storm outside echoing the one inside, as heeseung cries himself hoarse.

by the time he’s able to breathe steadily again, nearly an hour has passed. his eyes are red, his voice barely there. he lifts his head and meets jay’s gaze; tired looking into just as tired.

neither of them says much. there’s no need.

finally, jay sighs and stands. “go grab your stuff,” he says quietly. “you’re in no shape to drive. i’ll take you home.”

heeseung doesn’t argue.

because for once, he knows jay’s right.

───

your phone dings.

dni: i didn't mean what i said. i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n

you stare at your phone. gaze void of emotion. you've cried out everything you could muster.

you don't even know why heeseung's words echo in your head.

were you really that intolerable to be around? surely you weren't. all of heeseung's friends enjoyed hanging out with you and same with your little group.

so why did hearing your supposed enemy say he could never love someone like you hurt so bad?

you suppose you need to distract yourself from thinking that heeseung's words have any sort of impact on you. and that's when your door swings open. riki, yuqi, winter, keeho, sunghoon, jake, sunoo, and jungwon walk into your apartment with food, video games, board games, coloring books, skincare — everything you needed at the moment.

a break.

a break from your spiraling thoughts and endless questions you didn't want answered.

there's a knock at the door, jay comes in after he dropped heeseung off, with a freshly made cake, red velvet. your favorite.

you don’t move at first.

the warmth of your friends floods the apartment — laughter, chatter, the familiar rustle of takeout bags and the buzz of game controllers syncing. but it feels distant, like you’re underwater, watching from behind a thick pane of glass.

yuqi wraps her arms around you from behind, cheek resting on your shoulder. “we got your favorite pork buns,” she says softly.

you nod. you don’t trust your voice.

riki’s the one who notices your phone still clutched in your hand. screen glowing. that message. his message.

he doesn’t say anything, but he takes the phone from you gently, pressing the lock button, letting the screen fade to black. and you’re grateful. because if you kept staring at it, you might’ve started crying again, and you didn’t think you had anything left in you.

“movie?” sunghoon offers, holding up a stack of dvd's none of you ever returned to the library.

“coloring?” sunoo chirps, already spreading out gel pens across your coffee table.

“face masks?” winter insists, already tearing them open.

you let them distract you. you let them love you in the only way they know how — loudly, messily, unconditionally.

there’s a moment, in the middle of the chaos, when keeho makes a stupid joke and jungwon snorts soda out of his nose, that you laugh. actually laugh.

and then it hits you like whiplash — how easily heeseung could’ve been here. how almost close you came to letting yourself believe there was something soft behind his smirks and eye rolls. how you’d dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, the tension between you wasn’t just one-sided delusion.

but then he said it. “i could never love someone like her.”

and even with the people you love surrounding you, something in your chest hurts. like a bruise that won’t stop blooming.

later, after everyone’s settled into pillows and half-finished coloring pages, riki sits beside you. he doesn’t speak for a long time.

then, quietly, “you don’t have to pretend around me.”

and that’s when your lip trembles. just slightly.

“i don’t know why it hurts this much,” you whisper. “i knew he hated me. i knew. so why do i feel so broken?"

“he didn’t have to say it like that,” riki replies, voice firm. “he didn’t have to break something just because he couldn’t admit he wanted to hold it.”

you nod, finally letting a single tear trail down your cheek. riki wipes it away before it can fall too far.

he squeezes your hand.

“he messed up,” he says. “that’s on him. not you.”

you hold onto that — his words, their presence, the comfort of being chosen and cared for.

and for the first time since last night, you breathe. not easily. not painlessly. but it’s a start.

───

heeseung didn't know how hard it would be to try and get any information about you.

how you were doing, if you were okay. anything

your mutual friends? after hearing how massive he fucked up, they sided with you.

sure, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon would text him and hang out with him occasionally, but they wouldn't utter a word about you. most of the time heeseung saw them, it would be for awkward movie nights or when they would game together when none of them could sleep.

when he was alone, his mind ached, his chest twisted in pain, but mostly... his body ached.

he tried to stop it, he knew it was wrong.

but when you sat on his lap, something in him shifted.

sure he knew you were pretty (breathtakingly stunning), but he never imagined something he thought about constantly would ever become reality.

he thought back to those 5 minutes. the tension. surely it couldn't have just been made up in his head, right?

the way your entire body tensed when his hands rested on your hips. normally he wouldn't have touched you, but you were shifting and he needed to stop his growing problem before you noticed.

and thankfully it worked.

however, he was already hard as a brick.

his breath hitched as he remembered the look in your eyes — uncertain, but not scared. curious, maybe? or was he projecting again?

he swallowed hard, his hands now clenched at his sides like if he let them loose, they’d betray him again.

five minutes. that’s all it was. but it looped in his head like a damn broken record.

you hadn’t said a word. but your thighs had tensed. and when he shifted, trying to regain his composure, you hadn't moved away — not immediately, anyway.

maybe it meant nothing. maybe you hadn’t even noticed the way his breath had gone shallow or the way he was holding back like his life depended on it.

but god, his body remembered.

he shifted in his bed now, alone, frustrated, angry at himself. this wasn’t who he was supposed to be. he wasn’t supposed to want this — to want you — not like this. not in silence, not in secrecy, not in pain.

but the damage was already done.

and the worst part?

he wasn’t sure he even wanted to stop anymore.

as he stared at his chase atlantic posters, he thought to himself. any guy would get hard when a pretty girl sits on his lap, right? surely it isn't just because he's a pathetic virgin who's had to lie to his entire friend group about how he "gets around."

soon enough, his thoughts were interrupted by the rapidly increasing ache between his legs.

his hands trembled slightly as they hovered over the tent in his shorts. his breathing was shallow, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as if he were caught in some fever dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

he hated how much he needed this.

how much he needed you.

with a low, strangled groan, he finally gave in, palming himself over the thin fabric. the relief was immediate, but it wasn’t enough — it never was. not when the ache ran deeper than just skin. not when every nerve in his body was screaming for more.

he slipped his hand beneath his waistband, hissing through clenched teeth as his fingers wrapped around his thick length, already twitching with need. he was so hard it hurt, painfully stiff and dripping at the tip, slicking his palm almost instantly.

your name burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

he couldn’t say it. shouldn’t say it.

but in his head, it echoed over and over again. your laugh. your voice. the way you looked at him — or didn’t. the way you moved. god, he remembered everything. he was haunted by it.

he shut his eyes tight and let his hand move — slow at first, starting at his base and dragging his fingers up each vein decorating the sides. his patience wore out quicker than he'd ever admit, starting to move up his length, then down with just enough pressure to make his thighs twitch. he bit his lip, hard, trying to hold in the sounds. but as the memory of you shifting in his lap played behind his eyelids like a cruel fantasy, a soft whimper escaped.

he was losing it.

desperation clawed at him with every stroke, every flex of his hand. his hips lifted off the mattress as his muscles tensed. he imagined your fingers replacing his, your body hovering over his, your breath against his neck.

“please,” he gasped into the dark — not even sure what he was begging for. forgiveness? permission? you?

he pumped harder now, faster, chasing that high like it would save him. his other hand gripped the sheets, knuckles white. he was right on the edge, falling apart with nothing but the echo of your presence and the throb of need coiled deep in his belly.

“i need — fuck, i need you,” he moaned, broken and breathless. his body was hot, slick with sweat, twitching under his own touch.

he could feel it. the band threatening to snap at any moment.

he swirled his fingers around his tip, hitting that spot that made his vision go white. he was close.

all it took to unravel him was an image of you, mouth replacing his hand. trying to fit as much of him into your mouth while he just laid there and took it.

eventually the thought was too much, his seed spilled over his stomach in thick, messy ropes, his fist slowing only when the aftershocks wracked his frame like a wave of guilt and pleasure colliding all at once.

he laid there for a moment, chest heaving, skin flushed and sticky.

and then it hit him.

he still wasn’t satisfied.

because it wasn’t your touch. it wasn’t your voice, your kiss, your heat. it was just his hand and a fantasy he couldn't let go of.

and no matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times he used the memory of you…

it was never going to be enough.

───

you’ve held it together for as long as you could — smiled through movie nights, laughed at keeho’s stupid impressions, even ate something other than ramen yesterday. but it’s all surface level. the moment you're alone again, the cracks split wide open.

there you are, sitting on your couch, drowning in your thoughts.

the faint glow of the streetlamp filters through the windows, further highlighting the text message staring back at you

“i didn’t mean it.”

it replays in your head over and over like a broken record until your vision starts to blur. tears flood your waterline but you make no effort to stop them.

you don’t sob. you just sit there, hurting so quietly it’s almost peaceful.

until it isn’t.

your lip trembles slightly, then it all comes pouring out.

“why? why did you say that? what the fuck. did i do to deserve those words?”

riki hears your quiet words from the bathroom. he comes rushing out, empathy and sadness twirling in his eyes.

“hey, hey, hey, talk to me y/n. yell at me if you need to, yeah?” he says. voice barely above a whisper. all you can choke out is a tiny “no, none of this is your fault.”

riki sits next to you, holding you, trying to piece you back together as if he were the one who broke you.

disrupting the mellow silence lingering in your apartment, there’s a knock at the door.

not wanting the worst case scenario, you answering the door to heeseung, riki gets up and makes his way to where the sound came from.

to both of your dismay, a tired heeseung stands in the doorway.

his hair is messy, dark bags under his usually teasing eyes, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

he freezes when he sees you. your puffy eyes, shaking hands, the way you curl in on yourself like you’re trying to disappear.

riki steps in front of you, but you give him the signal to back down. you and heeseung can handle this alone. what’s another argument anyways?

as riki walks away, heeseung starts slowly “yn…”

you look at him. and no matter how hard you could have tried, nothing could have stopped you from snapping at him.

“why are you here?” “i had to see you. i had to say–” “you already said enough, heeseung.”

god. the way you say his name. all he’s thought about since you last saw each other was you saying his name. and now, he doesn’t wanna hear it ever again.

he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“do you know what it felt like to hear you say i wasn’t lovable? that someone like me could never be enough for you?”

as if you could read his mind, you shake your head, dismissing whatever he was about to spit out.

with every last ounce of energy you can gather, you scream. “you don’t get to feel sorry now. you made your choice the other night. i knew we had a mutual hatred, or at least some twisted distaste, but i never even thought about saying something like that to you.”

he doesn’t respond right away. just stands there, frozen. then you hear it. soft sniffles. ragged breathing. sobs.

he breaks.

because this is the first time he gets it. really, truly understands what he did. what he said. what it cost you.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice cracked and barely audible. “truly. what i said last week… i didn’t mean it. even thinking it broke me.”

you stare at him for a long, quiet second. and then you say it — flat, but shaking.

“you broke me first, heeseung.”

his breath catches. your words land like a punch to the gut, because they’re the truth. maybe the first truth spoken between you in a long time.

heeseung, who’s always so calm. so composed. the one who rolls his eyes at everything and makes everything feel like a joke. he’s crumbling in front of you now. not fighting. not defending. just falling apart.

and then it hits you. maybe he’s always been like this.

watching you. listening. never the first to strike, only ever the one to react. maybe he was never the villain in this story.

your breath hitches. maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you don’t know why the realization crashes down now. maybe it’s the sound of his sobs. maybe it’s the way the silence has more weight than anything he’s ever said. but something inside you shifts.

and for the first time, you see him — not as the enemy. but as the boy who let you hate him, because he didn’t know how to ask for anything else.

you replay every argument like a tape stuck on rewind. you were always the one who started it.

the snide comments. the sideways glances. the venom you dressed up as jokes.

heeseung never really fought back. he always matched your energy, sure, but he never escalated it. never crossed a line. not until that night.

your chest tightens. you realize you don’t even remember what the first fight was about. some hallway bump? a misunderstood glance? maybe it was never about anything. maybe it was just you, projecting every piece of your brokenness onto the only person who saw through it and stayed.

god, had he always stayed?

you remember in elementary school, how he used to bring you extra snacks when you forgot lunch. how he gave you his hoodie that one time you were shivering during morning assembly, even after you’d spent the entire week roasting him in front of your friends.

you remember the way his gaze always lingered—not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was always checking. watching over you without saying a word.

and now here he is. slumped into his knees. back pressed against the wall, crying over you.

you were so busy building walls with your bitterness that you didn’t notice it was slowly breaking him.

the quiet way he tried to reach over them.

you sink to the floor across from him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the weight of everything between you.

for a long moment, you don’t speak. neither does he. you just breathe in the silence together — like it’s the only language you both understand.

“i didn’t know how to stop hating you,” you whisper, voice catching. “because if i stopped… i think i would’ve started needing you.”

heeseung lifts his head. eyes red, lashes wet.

“i already did,” he says. “i never stopped.”

your heart fractures in a way that doesn’t feel sharp, just tired. heavy.

“i don’t know what to do with that,” you admit.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “not tonight.”

you nod. once. then you help him get up. both your legs feel numb, but you walk him towards the door. your hand rests on the handle, taking a second to look up at him. really look at him, and you’re tempted to say something.

but instead, you give him the quietest thing you can offer: a small, broken sort of smile. not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.

then, he steps out into the night. and just like that, the quietness of everything settling in takes over. no more lies. just the truth.

as you’re deep in thought, riki walks in with two mugs of hot chocolate — extra marshmallows, your favorite.

-ˏˋ⋆ 3 years ago ⋆ˊˎ-

it’s a chilly summer night. you and riki are sprawled out on the roof of his parents' house, the shingles warm beneath your backs from the day’s lingering sun. crickets hum below. the stars blink overhead, careless and constant.

you shift slightly, seeking warmth, and without a word, riki lifts his arm. you curl into the space beside him, head on his shoulder, fingers tucked into the sleeve of his hoodie. his arm settles around you like it belongs there.

“do you think we’ll ever feel like this again?” you murmur. “peaceful. like nothing’s wrong.”

he hums low in his chest. “you mean without chaos or boys who don’t deserve you?”

you let out a breath, half a laugh. “exactly.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels thick with unspoken things.

riki’s voice is soft when he finally speaks. “i think… the people who make you feel heavy, like you're constantly questioning yourself, that’s not love, y/n. that’s something else.”

you turn your face slightly to look up at him. he’s gazing at the stars like he’s afraid of admitting he craves the one thing he’s always sworn to never care about.

“love should never hurt,” he says, quieter this time. “not the kind that stays.”

you don’t say anything right away. you’re too busy memorizing the way the night folds around his words. the way he’s always been a comfort for you, the one to pick you up when you’re falling.

and in that moment, you believe him. you really do.

you nod once. “then i hope… when it’s my turn, it feels like this. safe.”

riki swallows. “me too.”

-ˏˋ⋆ present time ⋆ˊˎ-

and now, back in your bedroom, the silence left in heeseung’s absence is deafening.

your gaze flicks toward the window, rain still threading down the glass like tear tracks. your mind lingers on that rooftop — the stars, the safety, the version of you who still believed in soft things.

before all the hook-ups, parties, and one-sided confessions.

you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and whisper. either to riki or yourself, you don’t know.

“you said love should never hurt. i think heeseung missed that memo.”

and god, how you wish you could go back to that night — before the spiral, before the ache.

before the boy who made you feel like an afterthought.

before you let yourself fall over someone you thought you didn’t care about.

riki leaves after making sure you’re alright, mumbling something about dance practice.

and again, it’s just you. in the quiet.

then, almost without thinking, you rip a blank piece of paper out of your journal.

you don’t plan it. it’s just instinct — fingers gripping your pen, waiting for permission your heart hasn’t quite given. but then you start writing.

dear heeseung,

i hated you before i knew how badly i could want you. maybe that’s where it all went wrong. because at some point, i stopped seeing you as the boy who annoyed me and started seeing you as someone i wanted to understand. as someone i wanted to look at me and see me. and for a while, i thought maybe you did. i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. i thought i was stupid for hating you. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole. because even when i told myself i hated you, there was always that small, traitorous part of me that wondered: what if he doesn’t hate me back? what if it’s more? but it wasn’t. and now i can’t unhear it. you probably didn’t even mean it — not in the way it came out. maybe it was fear, or pressure, or ego. but it doesn’t matter, does it? words don’t get erased just because we didn’t mean them. they echo. and yours… yours are still echoing inside me like a song i can’t shut off. i don’t think i’m mad at you anymore. i think i’m mad at myself. for letting you get close. for not guarding the parts of me i only let out in small doses. for thinking i was different to you. i wish you hadn’t said it. but mostly, i wish it hadn’t mattered so much to me that you did. – y/n

you take out an envelope, neatly fold the paper and stuff it inside, writing a neat ‘heeseung’ on the front of it.

some truths aren’t meant to be sent. some confessions are only meant for the rain to witness.

and tonight, that’s enough.

───

the second the door shuts behind him, the silence hits like a punch to the ribs.

heeseung stands there for a second too long, staring at the wood grain of your door like it might open again. like maybe you’ll come running after him. like maybe that small, broken smile you gave him wasn’t the end.

but it doesn’t open.

and it was the end.

he starts walking. he doesn’t even remember moving his feet, just that suddenly he’s outside, and the rain greets him like an old friend. cold, sharp, unforgiving. it soaks through his hoodie in seconds, but he doesn’t flinch.

he deserves it. every drop. every chill. every echo of your voice in his head.

“not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.”

god, what did he do?

how did he take someone who was literally sitting in his lap, trusting him with the fragile thread of something real — and turn that into this? this mess of silence and space and words he can’t take back?

“i could never love someone like her.”

he had said it so carelessly. so cruelly. trying to deflect the attention off himself in front of your friends, like a coward. like a boy who still thinks protecting his ego is worth more than protecting a heart.

especially your heart.

he wipes his face with the back of his hand, unsure if it’s tears or rain. it’s probably both.

he thinks back to your eyes right before he left. the way you looked at him like he was someone you used to know. like whatever thread was between you had finally snapped.

and the worst part?

he couldn’t even beg you to stay.

because he knows — he knows — he doesn’t deserve it.

he walks home in silence, the city around him buzzing and breathing like it doesn’t care at all about the wreckage inside his chest. his phone buzzes a few times in his pocket, probably jay or jungwon checking if he made it back safely.

but none of it matters.

because there’s only one person he wants to hear from.

and you’ve already said everything you needed to say. in the way you didn’t ask him to stay. in the way you didn’t cry. in the way you simply closed the door.

so when heeseung finally steps into his apartment, soaked to the bone, trembling from more than just the cold, he collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and whispers:

“i didn’t mean it. i swear i didn’t mean it.”

but there’s no one left to listen.

not tonight.

───

heeseung isn’t the center of your world anymore.

not in the way he used to be.

in the weeks that follow, your friends become your anchor. riki never leaves your side. winter brings over matcha lattes and blankets. sunoo paints your nails while jake tells bad jokes. you laugh again. slowly, but surely.

you start writing more letters.

some are angry. some are soft. some are nothing more than wordless scratches of ink on paper.

but one night, you write a letter that feels different.

you don’t even realize what you’re saying until it’s already down:

i wanted you. for a long time. maybe even when i said i hated you. maybe that was the only way i knew how to say it without crumbling. i masked want with rage. affection with sarcasm. love with loathing. you made it easier to run. but i wanted to stay. god, i wanted to stay.

you fold that letter gently. tuck it into your drawer. it doesn’t matter if he reads it. not now.

because healing isn’t about him.

it’s about you.

and you’re getting there.

lately, the weekends have felt lighter. your apartment has become a familiar gathering place again, only now, it’s just the people who stayed. who showed up. who chose you. heeseung hasn’t come around in weeks, and no one really talks about it. not in a cruel way, just in the quiet, understanding way that friendships shift when someone slips out of the picture.

you used to dread saturday nights, used to flinch every time the group chat lit up with plans. used to wonder if he’d show up, if you’d have to spend the night pretending not to notice the weight of his silence, the way your laughter dulled around him. but somewhere along the way, those nights started to feel easier. not because you stopped missing him — but because you started remembering how to miss him without hurting yourself in the process.

your living room is alive with warmth and laughter. the scent of popcorn and mango smoothies drifts through the air. blankets are piled high on the couch, soft pillows strewn across the floor where riki is dramatically throwing himself down after losing yet another round of mario kart to sunghoon, who’s grinning like he just won the olympics.

“cheater,” riki groans, pointing an accusing finger without lifting his head.

“just admit i’m better,” sunghoon replies smugly, stretching his legs across the coffee table like he owns the place.

in the corner, winter and yuqi are dancing barefoot to a chaotic mix of early 2000s pop and indie throwbacks — somehow still synced up to choreography you’d all made up back in sophomore year. their laughter is contagious, unfiltered and bright, and it tugs a smile onto your face before you even realize it.

keeho is halfway through teaching jungwon and sunoo a tiktok dance in the kitchen doorway, voice loud and arms flailing with exaggerated energy. they’re laughing too hard to get the moves right, collapsing into each other every time they mess up. jake, unfazed by the chaos, is blending something suspiciously green in the kitchen, wearing a headband that reads “chef vibes only.”

you’re curled up on the loveseat, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a half-finished smoothie in your hands. and for once, you’re not scanning the room for him. you’re not wondering what he’d say or how he’d look at you or if tonight would be the night he pulled you aside and finally said something real.

you’re just… here. and it’s enough.

someone throws a pillow at your head, probably riki, based on the cackling, and you lunge to retaliate, laughing as the pillow war erupts across the living room. it’s messy, loud, ridiculous. and it’s yours. this little world you’re rebuilding, one laugh, one night, one breath at a time.

there’s still a part of you that misses him. maybe there always will be. but tonight, that part is small. quiet.

outnumbered by joy.

meanwhile, heeseung is alone in his apartment.

the place is dim. quiet. it hasn’t felt like home in a long time. he's been staring at his phone for an hour now, hoping for a text that doesn’t come.

he thinks about the group chat. the silence from everyone. he thinks about the night he ruined everything. and how, somehow, he still wants to fix it.

he knows an apology isn’t enough. not this time.

he needs to show you, all of you, that he’s not the same guy who let his fear speak louder than his heart.

he just doesn’t know how yet.

but he will. he has to.

because he doesn’t just want forgiveness.

he wants to deserve it.

───

somewhere in the chaos, one of your unsent letters goes missing.

riki finds it by accident. tucked under a cushion, edges worn. he doesn't mean to read it, but your handwriting draws him in, and before he knows it, he's holding your heartbreak in his hands.

he doesn't say a word. just slips it into his pocket and walks away.

a day later, heeseung finds the letter folded on the seat of his car.

he doesn’t recognize the paper at first. but the second he sees your handwriting, his heart drops.

his hands shake as he unfolds it. the silence around him is so loud, he can hear his pulse in his ears.

and then he reads it.

every word. every line. every raw, aching truth you never meant for him to see.

i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole.

heeseung sits there, completely still. letter trembling in his grip.

"fuck," he whispers. "fuck."

he shows up to the next group hangout like his life depends on it.

he doesn’t talk to anyone. not really. not until you walk in.

you freeze when you see him. part of you wants to turn around and leave.

but he doesn’t let you.

he stands. crosses the room.

"can we talk?" he asks, voice low, not demanding, but pleading.

you don’t say anything.

"please. just five minutes. if you still hate me after, i’ll leave you alone. forever."

there’s a long pause.

you nod.

he takes you outside, away from the noise, into the quiet night.

"i read it," he says.

you blink. "read what?"

he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

your stomach drops.

"i wasn’t supposed to see it, i know. but... i’m glad i did."

"heeseung—"

"no. let me say this. please."

his eyes are desperate. glassy. his words shaky.

"i lied. that night. i said that because i was scared. because i felt too much, too fast, and didn’t know what to do with it. i thought if i pushed you away, i could kill whatever it was before it killed me."

he takes a step closer.

"but you weren’t just someone i hated. not really. you were someone i couldn’t stop thinking about. you were the highlight of every party, every night, every moment. i was an idiot. but i never stopped wanting you."

your throat is tight.

"you broke me," you whisper.

he nods.

"i know. and i’ll spend every second proving to you that i’m sorry. not with words — with time. with actions. with everything you’ll let me give."

there’s silence.

then you take a breath.

"you’ve got a lot to prove, lee heeseung."

he gives the smallest, hopeful smile.

"then let me start now."

and he does.

not with fireworks. not with promises he can’t keep. but with the small things. the consistent things.

the next morning, there’s a text from him. simple.

“did you sleep okay?”

you stare at it for a while before replying.

“yeah. you?”

“not really. kept thinking about you.”

you don’t answer that. but your heart stirs anyway.

a few days later, he’s waiting outside your class with a drink in his hand, the one he used to make fun of you for ordering (“that’s basically sugar and foam, y/n”), but now buys without hesitation. he doesn’t try to walk you home. doesn’t push. just hands you the drink, offers a soft “you looked tired,” and walks away before you can respond.

he lets you come to him.

at the next hangout, he doesn’t hover. doesn’t sulk. he helps jake in the kitchen, jokes with jungwon, lets the others tease him without biting back. when you walk in, his eyes find you — but he doesn’t pull you aside. just offers a quiet, careful smile. like he’s waiting. like he’s learning how to stay.

one night, you’re struggling with your laundry, balancing way too many bags and a basket of unfolded clothes, and he appears without a word, grabbing half the load from your arms. you glare at him, but you don’t tell him to stop.

he walks with you to the laundry room, helps you separate colors, folds your towels when you’re too tired to finish. “i owe you way more than this,” he says softly. you don’t look at him. “yeah,” you murmur. “you do.”

he doesn’t reply. just keeps folding.

you start to notice it more after that. the way he lingers behind after group dinners to help clean. the way he listens, really listens, when you talk, even if it’s just about the books you’re reading or the music you’ve been into lately. the way he starts learning your rhythms again, not to manipulate them, but to respect them.

one night, you find a note slipped into your bag.

“this isn’t about getting you back. it’s about being someone who deserves to stand beside you. i don’t expect anything from you. just… thanks for letting me try.”

you don’t know what to do with that. but you keep the note anyway.

and maybe the biggest moment doesn’t feel big at all. it’s late. you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, overwhelmed with everything—assignments, memories, feelings you’ve tried to ignore—and he shows up.

he doesn’t say anything. just sits beside you. close, but not too close. his shoulder brushes yours. your hand trembles. and without looking at you, he says, “you don’t have to talk. just let me sit here.”

and you do.

because he’s not trying to fix you. he’s just showing up. and maybe that’s what love looks like now.

quiet. patient. real.

you don’t forgive him all at once.

but some nights, it’s harder to pretend you don’t want to.

like the night it rains, and you forget your umbrella. you’re standing under the campus archway, clutching your books to your chest, half-considering just running for it, when a quiet voice says, “hey.”

you turn. heeseung’s holding out his umbrella, expression unreadable, hair already wet from the walk over.

“you’ll get soaked,” you mumble, surprised. “i don’t mind,” he says. “but you hate the rain.”

you want to tell him to leave. want to remind him that knowing those things doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

but instead, you step under the umbrella. shoulder to shoulder. hearts too close. you don’t say a word the whole walk home. but you remember how he always matched his pace to yours. he still does.

───

there’s another time. movie night.

everyone’s over again, sprawled across the living room. you end up between yuqi and jungwon on the couch, but at some point, someone moves, and when you shift, you realize you’re next to him. again.

the movie plays. people whisper and pass snacks and argue over the plot twist. but all you feel is the space between your knee and his. the ghost of warmth where your arms nearly brush.

you don’t move away. neither does he.

and at one point, you laugh at a stupid scene. without thinking, you glance at him, wanting to see if he found it funny too. he’s already looking at you. and for a second, everything stills.

you look away first. but your heart doesn't stop racing for a long, long time.

───

the third moment is softest of all.

it’s late. everyone’s left. you’re cleaning up alone, stacking plates in the kitchen.

you don’t hear him come back until he’s beside you, rolling up his sleeves.

“thought i’d help,” he says gently. you nod. don’t speak.

you’re both quiet for a while, working in sync. something about it feels… familiar. domestic. like home.

then, as you’re drying the last cup, you glance over. he’s watching you, and there’s something in his eyes. something tender. careful. full of things he hasn’t said yet.

“i miss you,” he says softly.

your breath catches.

you set the cup down.

“heeseung–”

“i’m not asking for anything,” he interrupts, voice thick. “just… i miss you. and i wanted you to know.”

you swallow hard. there’s so much you could say. but instead, you whisper, “i know.”

he nods once. and then he leaves. because he meant it — he wasn’t asking for anything. but that’s the moment you know: you don’t hate him anymore. you never did.

───

it happens a week later.

a rooftop. stars overhead. winter’s birthday, most of your friends are tipsy on alcohol, sugar and too many karaoke songs. you haven’t had a drop of alcohol, wanting to truly feel everything.

heeseung finds you leaning against the railing, eyes on the sky.

“hey,” he says. you nod and let him stand beside you.

the silence isn’t awkward anymore. it’s soft. steady.

“can i ask you something?” he says, barely audible.

you hum.

“do you still feel it?” he asks. “whatever it was… whatever we had.”

you don’t answer for a long time.

and then, quietly… “i never really stopped.”

he turns. slowly.

your eyes meet. and in them is every apology he’s ever whispered with his actions. every moment he gave you space. every time he showed up when he didn’t have to.

you reach for him first.

your hand brushes his. his fingers curl around yours like a prayer.

and then, finally, he kisses you.

soft. aching. full of every unspoken word, every almost, every could’ve been. this isn’t the kind of kiss that demands anything. it’s a promise. a beginning.

you pull back first, just enough to whisper, “i don’t wanna do this while you’re intoxicated, i don’t want you to regret it.”

he stares at you before mumbling into your lips.

“y/n, i haven’t had a drink, but it feels like i’m drunk when i kiss you.”

your heart stops and everything fades into the background. “don’t break me again.” you plead, face inches away from his.

he presses his forehead to yours.

“never again,” he breathes.

and this time, you believe him.

as he reconnects your lips, his hands tremble slightly where they find purchase on your waist. the night air is cool, but your skin is burning—flushed, alive, and aching in a way you haven’t let yourself feel in so long.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes flick between yours and your lips, like he’s still not sure this is real.

“we don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “just say the word.”

but you don’t want him to stop. not tonight. not after everything.

so you slide your fingers into the collar of his jacket, tug him closer until your lips brush his again.

“take me home, heeseung.”

and he does.

his apartment is quiet when you get inside, the chaos of the earlier party gone, the night still humming with something electric. you barely have time to kick your shoes off before his mouth finds yours again. hungrier now, more desperate. like all the restraint he’s shown is unraveling, thread by thread.

his hands are everywhere — your hips, your waist, your jaw. like he’s relearning you. memorizing the weight of you against him.

you tug his jacket off, fingers fumbling with the zipper, and he lets out a low, breathless laugh against your neck.

“still impatient,” he teases.

“still hot when you shut up,” you shoot back, and he groans.

you barely make it to the couch.

he sits first, pulling you into his lap like it’s instinct, like he’s needed this for months. your knees straddle him, bodies pressed chest to chest, your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

he tilts his head, deepens the kiss, and it’s filthy. slow. wet. your hips roll against his without thinking, and the noise he makes, low and guttural, goes straight to your core.

“fuck,” he groans. forehead against your collarbone. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you arch into him, tug his shirt over his head, and he follows suit, fingers slipping under the hem of yours, eyes flicking up for permission. you nod, and he peels it off slowly, reverently, like unwrapping something precious.

his hands trail over your skin like he’s trying to remember what it feels like to deserve you.

and then his mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, trailing down until you’re gasping his name, your back arching as he presses kisses across your collarbones.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, like it hurts.

as you reach for his belt wanting to make him feel good, he puts his hand over yours. “there’s something i need to tell you.. before we take anything further.” he says like he doesn’t even want you to know.

“what is it, hee?”

god. that nickname.

it’s what all his close friends call him, however when you say it. he wants to lay the world at your feet.

“i’m.. uh– a vir-virgin…” he mumbles. you would have missed it had you not been paying close attention.

you laugh.

heeseung leans back into the couch, hoping, praying, wishing it to swallow him whole.

as you observe heeseung, you realize he must be serious. “you’re a virgin? but you– you always used to talk about your hook-ups and how every week it was like you had someone new hanging off your arm??? what do you mean you’re a virgin?”

he whimpers. he fucking whimpers. “i’m not proud of it, okay? i always came really close to hooking up with girls but i um. i couldn’t you know.. get it… up.”

you sit there quietly, giving him time to compose himself and continue.

“everytime i tried to lose my virginity, i couldn’t get hard unless i thought she was you,” he speaks, not gaining enough courage to look you in the eyes.

you stare at heeseung for a moment, trying to process what he just said. the weight of it settles between you like a delicate secret, and suddenly the playful teasing tone you’d had before feels completely inappropriate.

you can see it in his doe eyes — how embarrassed he is, how much he wants to crawl out of his own skin. the corners of his lips are tugged in a tight line, as if holding in every emotion that threatens to spill out. but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. it’s soft, gentle, but laced with a teasing warmth.

“you’re a virgin?” you ask, letting the words linger a little longer than they should, pretending to be surprised as if he hadn’t just told you, twice.

heeseung’s face reddens, and you see him shrink further into the couch. you could almost feel his desire to hide, to escape. but you don’t let him. instead, you move closer, shifting between his legs, and place your hand on his thigh. a gentle, reassuring pressure.

“god, heeseung,” you tease softly, your lips curling into a smile that isn’t cruel, but playful. “how could you keep that from me? you’ve been all… big talk and ‘i get all the girls,’ and here you are, this nervous little thing, blushing at the thought of being with me?”

his eyes flicker with uncertainty, but you lean in just enough to press your lips to his ear. you feel him tense under the touch, and the subtle shiver runs through his body, telling you everything you need to know. he’s not as confident as he makes it seem.

“you should’ve told me sooner, you know,” you whisper, your voice low, just enough to make his breath hitch. “i would’ve been patient. we could’ve taken it slow.”

heeseung groans softly, his hands gripping the fabric of the couch like he’s holding onto some semblance of control. you smile knowingly, watching the struggle on his face. but it’s not discomfort — it’s desire. you can feel it in the way his eyes refuse to leave yours, in the way his body reacts to the gentleness in your touch.

“i… i don’t want you to think less of me,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it anyway. “it’s just… with you, it’s always felt different.”

you gently trace your fingers up his chest, watching as his breath quickens. you’re giving him space to breathe, to process, and then you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss.

“stop worrying about that,” you say quietly, your lips just barely touching his. “i don’t think less of you. if anything, you’re hotter right now than ever before.”

the vulnerability in his eyes shifts. he’s still nervous, but the weight is lifting. and for the first time in a while, you see him start to believe that he doesn’t need to hide anything from you.

then, you shift your focus, teasing him once more with a playful grin. “but you know, heeseung… i could help you with that. we could take this slow, maybe help you get comfortable with what it feels like to be with me. you trust me, don’t you?”

he nods, slowly, not trusting his voice. he’s ready. maybe more than he thought.

and you take that as your cue. you kiss him again, deeper this time, letting the heat between you grow. his body responds to you almost immediately. hands shifting from nervous to eager, pulling you closer as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

“let me take care of you,” you murmur, your hands trailing down to his belt. this time, you don’t hesitate. you undo it slowly, giving him time to react, but he doesn’t stop you. instead, he leans back into the couch, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

heeseung’s eyes search yours one more time, a silent question in them. you nod gently, giving him permission to be vulnerable, to trust you fully.

and when your hands pull his pants down, you can feel the heat of him, see the evidence of his desire. you take your time, enjoying the way he reacts to each touch, savoring the way he trembles under your hands.

you start by rubbing over his bulge when your eyes widen.

he just stares back at you, not blinking, but incredibly nervous. “is– is something wrong?” he stutters out.

“wrong? no, heeseung. you’re huge.”

he blushes and hides his face in his hands. his veiny hands. you’ll definitely need to put those to use later.

you softly drag his hands away from his face and tell him to never hide from you. you think he’s beautiful like this.

after he calms down, you look back into his eyes that resemble a deer, and he nods. signaling you to continue.

you finally trail your eyes down to his raging hard on, you can almost see it pulse.

his breath quickens the longer you take to begin touching him.

you start by teasing his swollen tip, arousal evident in the stain on his gray boxers. he sighs heavily, tipping his head back.

as you rub your hand down to his base, you get a feel for how thick he truly is.

he’s hard. aching. even at the slightest touch, his eyebrows furrow and he holds back soft groans.

you rip your hand off his clothed bulge. “if you want me to continue, you need to let me hear you, baby.”

that was his breaking point, he quickly nods his head yes looking at you with pleading eyes, “c—can you please touch me? it hurts.”

not wanting to tease him any longer, you rip his boxers off his thighs and his throbbing length slaps against his lower abdomen reaching just above his belly button. precum smears on his abs and you get the urge to lick it off.

so you do.

you gently move his dick away from his toned stomach, swiping your wet muscle along his abs, sucking to leave light marks.

the noises he makes are downright pornographic, and you think you’ll never be able to hear them enough.

moving your attention back to the hardness in your grasp, you begin to lick up his shaft, tracing each vein with the tip of your tongue. his head is still tipped back, frustrating you a bit because you want his attention on you.

so… in one swift motion, you take him down your throat until his tip hits the back. his head shoots up and he moans. loud.

heeseung is in heaven. the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock, he never wants you to pull off of him. he gently pulls your hair into a ponytail, hands shaking when you start moving.

his apartment is filled with filthy noises: wet, loud, and obscene.

he can hear and feel your gag reflexes kicking in but you don’t budge. you continue to move up and down, not wanting to stop until he cums.

his tipping point was you somehow taking him even further down your throat, nose brushing his pelvis. he thought you were going to take a break for air but you didn't.

you stay.

swallowing around him.

the pressure in your jaw is almost unbearable but when you feel his thighs shaking, you know he’s close. and you need to ruin him.

hollowing your cheeks, you swirl your tongue around his engorged tip, hands coming up to play with his heavy balls. he can’t hold back anymore. the sensation of you taking his whole cock down your tiny throat and the stimulation of his balls in your hands. he groans.

desperate. low. deep

and spills down your throat. warm, wet, and sticky ropes, pour out of his tip. taking up all the space you had left, some spilling out from the corners of your mouth.

you swallow all that you can, then pull off from his dick.

heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard. heeseung threw an arm over his eyes, chest heaving, trying to regain control of his senses.

meanwhile, you haven’t stopped clenching your thighs together.

you didn’t even notice you were staring until he clears his throat. he just looks so gorgeous all fucked out.

“wow. did you– swallow.. it?” he asks through pants.

you answer him like it was the most natural thing in the world, “yeah, because it was you”

he moans, again. and that’s when you notice he’s still hard, still aching.

as you move to straddle his lap, he grabs your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist. “not here, i want our first time to be special” he says softly, with a kiss to your temple.

he carries you to his bedroom on wobbly legs and gently lays you down on his bed, hovering on top of you. he plants wet kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, collarbones, until he reaches your covered chest.

looking at you with big, lust filled eyes, he waits for your green light. you nod and he fumbles with your bra clasp, eventually tearing the fabric away.

“you’re stunning,” he says completely awestruck by your half-naked form.

as he continues staring, he licks his lips, slowly lowering his head wrapping his soft lips around one of your perky buds.

you instinctively arch into his touch, one of his hands wrapping around your waist as his other hand gently kneads your other boob. soft gasps and whines slip from your lips as you try to grind up in search of any friction where you need it most.

he senses your desperate pleas and starts moving his body to slot between your legs, face in front of your clothed core. you wiggle your hips trying to convince him to speed up and touch you where you need it the most.

“can i…?” he practically begs, “yeah” you sigh as you relax into his plush sheets. he drags your sweats down your soft legs planting kisses along the inside of your thighs, all the way down to your calves. he makes his way to your panty clad pussy, pressing a soft kiss to your bundle of nerves aching for him.

you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before.

he looks so good between your thighs, you want this image ingrained into your brain forever.

he brings his thumb up to press on the wet spot that’s formed on your panties, groaning, “fuck, you’re so wet.”

“all for you.”

he replays those words in his head and his patience snaps. tearing your underwear in half, he wastes no time. tongue lapping and the wetness between your legs, like he’s been deprived of any liquid all his life.

you’ve never met someone this desperate to eat you out. or anyone for that matter.

he mumbles against your core, “guide me, please, wan’ you t’feel good, mmh.”

your hands take place in his silky soft roots, gently tugging on the strands.

through whimpers, you tell him to focus on your clit, and surprisingly (for a virgin), he finds it fairly quickly.

he briefly sucks on the nub, flicking it with his tongue to soothe it. “fuck, hee” you moan out into the space of his bedroom.

he groans against your pussy, carefully bringing up his fingers so he can push his tongue into your awaiting hole. the moment he starts fucking you with his tongue, you arch your back and grind into his face, needing more.

he heard his friends talking about “prep” and “stretching girls out,” so he wonders if you need to be stretched out to take him. you said he was huge, did you mean it? he has no idea, he’s a pathetic virgin who has only shoved his dick into his right hand. not even a pocket pussy or fleshlight.

to your dismay, he pulls away for a brief second asking if he should use his fingers. “please, i need you to stretch me out, i can’t– take you without prep,” you rush out feeling your high not far away.

“shit, okay baby,” he mutters back before bringing his middle finger up to spread your juices around.

your hips jerk up when he focuses on your clit, surprised by the stimulation.

slowly, he pushes his finger in, getting used to the warm sensation of your walls.

you clench around his thick digit, feeling fuller than when you finger yourself. as he pumps it in and out, you tell him to add another one and he does.

moaning in relief, you arch into his touch as his tongue finds its way back to your sensitive clit.

between him lapping like a dog and the feeling of two of his fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, you feel a familiar band in your stomach building up.

your moans increase and heeseung feels dizzy, taking in all that you give.

he curves his fingers all while sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing you to tip over the edge and that band in your stomach to snap.

you come crashing down, chanting his name like a mantra as heeseung helps you ride out your high.

as you lift your head and meet his gaze, he looks more fucked out than you do. hooded eyes, tongue lolled out of his mouth, gaze consumed with lust. you pull him by the collar of his shirt until your lips collide in a mess of tongues and teeth.

your makeout session unfortunately doesn’t last long as heeseung starts whining into your lips.

that’s when you realize his cock found your bent knee, not so subtly grinding against it, trying to relieve some of the ache.

“feeling needy, are we?” you tease, earning a playful roll of the eyes from heeseung.

pulling back, you drink in his bare torso– he’s always been muscular as he was very popular with the ladies (until he got into bed with them).

dragging your hand up his chiseled abs, his stomach tenses and his dick twitches.

you found his second biggest weakness, besides you. his abs.

deciding to end the teasing there, since you’re also becoming increasingly impatient, you flip him over so you land on top of him with a quiet, “oof.”

as you settle your bare core on his rock solid cock, you start grinding, placing your hands on his chest for support.

he can’t hold back the guttural groans spilling from his mouth. not believing you’re really on top of him right now. this isn’t just one of his wet dreams.

he thought this couldn’t get any better, but when he struggles to get out a weak ask for a condom, you just respond with “no, i’m– on the pill. need to feel you. all of you.”

and to that, he moans, not believing his ears.

it’s his first time. and he’s about to have sex with YOU. raw. he thinks he’s dreaming. there’s no way you’re real.

you gently angle his dick towards your awaiting hole, sinking down until his fat tip is inside you.

instantly, you both sigh in relief, starting to feel the pressure ease up.

if you feel a stretch at his tip entering you, you don’t know how you’re supposed to fit all of him inside you. he’s the biggest you’ve seen and he doesn’t even know it.

your attention is drawn back to the man consuming your brain when he whines. “m-more, please.” he’s becoming needier the longer you stay at just his tip but you don’t know how to tell him you’ve never taken a size like him before.

“hee-heeseung i need a sec, you’re– fuck. so thick,” you say between moans.

his grip on your hips tightens, a silent way of telling you to take your time.

when you finally deem yourself ready, you sink lower, wanting to speed it up, bracing the stretch to come.

you feel him pulsing inside you and that’s all you need to sink all the way down, him bottoming out inside you.

it’s his first time feeling anything other than his hand wrapped around him, and he whimpers, loud. it’s overstimulating in the best way possible and before he knows it you move up to his tip and bounce back down. his dick twitches and you feel it. every vein, every pulse, every movement, even his heavy breathing.

heeseung, not in control of his movements, bucks his hips up, making another non-existent inch fit inside your stretched out core.

you moan soft and loud, eyes rolling back, as the pain turned into pleasure. bouncing faster on his girthy cock, you uncontrollably clench around him, causing heeseung’s grip to tighten. you know it’ll bruise tomorrow, but at the moment, he feels too good for you to care.

the room smells of sex, and the only sounds that can be heard are skin clapping and your shared noises.

heeseung must notice your legs becoming tired because before you know it, you’re flat on your back with heeseung on top of you, cock never slipping out from your pussy.

his large hands grab each of your thighs, pressing them to your chest.

his pace is slow at first, testing the waters, getting a feel for a rhythm.

as his hands stay pressed to your thighs, he slowly drags out and pushes all of his dick inside you.

you feel him deeper in this position, a bulge forming in your lower belly.

when he notices, his eyes stay glued there.

you wonder what he’s looking at but the moment you look down, you’re met with his hand pressing slightly on the bulge causing the loudest moan to leave your lips.

he signals you to hold your thighs as one of his hands holds himself up and the other focuses on how he can feel his dick inside your guts with every thrust.

his pace suddenly quickens when you clench hard around him, making his hips stutter briefly.

endless praises leave his pretty lips, telling you how good you feel, how hot you look laid underneath him, taking whatever he gives you.

feeling a familiar, yet new sensation building rapidly, you try to warn him that you’re close but somehow, he already knows. “i know baby, let go whenever you want.” he mutters back, feeling just as close to his high.

“fuck– where do you want it?” he rushes out, not wanting to cum inside you if that isn’t what you want.

but apparently, all the gods are smiling down on him as you release your thighs from the grip you had on them and wrap your legs around his waist. “inside,” you moan.

and at that, he cums. hard. ropes of his hot, gooey, cum spill inside you. tipping you over the edge.

with a loud groan, clear liquid comes rushing out from you, spraying all over his sheets and lower abdomen. soaking his dick.

heeseung moans. again. raw and unfiltered at the fact that you just squirted all over him (he’s seen enough porn and heard too many stories from your shared friend group to know what squirting is).

as you come down from your high, heeseung is somehow still cumming. it spills out of you, creating an even stickier mess on his bed. but he doesn’t care.

not when you’re beneath him, chest rising rapidly, trying to catch your breath.

heeseung’s cock is still lodged inside you, holding half of his cum inside you, not wanting it to go to waste.

as he collapses on top of you, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, holding your trembling body close to his.

you were the first to speak, “i didn’t even know i could do that,” talking about how you squirted all over him. “guess we both had firsts today,” he softly chuckles.

his breath is warm against your skin, his arm tightening just a little around your waist as if anchoring himself in the moment. you don’t respond right away, too caught up in the quiet thrum of your heartbeat, the lingering warmth between you, the way his fingers begin tracing gentle, absent-minded shapes against your spine.

“i didn’t expect it to be like this,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the hush of the room.

“like what?” he asks, voice low, like he’s afraid to shatter the calm.

you shift slightly to face him, resting your head more comfortably on his chest. “soft. safe.”

Hheeseung lets out a breath that sounds like relief and something deeper, something reverent. “yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”

for a while, neither of you say anything. he pulls the blanket higher over both of you, his other hand brushing your hair back with such tenderness that it makes your eyes sting. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he means it.

“you okay?” he asks, voice still rough from earlier, but softer now, like the edge of him has been smoothed by your touch.

you nod, then glance up at him. “are you?”

heeseung meets your gaze, and something in his expression shifts. vulnerability bleeding through the cracks he used to hide behind. “i am now.”

your heart squeezes.

he licks his lips, nervous. “i’ve been so stupid with you. all this time, i kept pushing and pulling, thinking maybe if i kept it messy, it’d be easier to walk away if i had to.” he pauses, his voice thinning. “but tonight just… made me realize i don’t want to walk away.”

your breath catches. “heeseung…”

“i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he says, eyes searching yours. “not the sex, not the closeness. i want you. the fights, the tension, the way you drive me crazy and still somehow make me want to be better just by being around you. i’m so in love with you, it hurts.”

your lips part in surprise, and he laughs quietly, self-deprecating and shy. “too much?”

instead of answering, you lean up and kiss him, slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say until now. when you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, smiling as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“i’m in love with you too, idiot.”

he grins, wide and a little teary-eyed, and pulls you closer like he’s never letting go.

and you know he won’t have to.

pls reblog & leave feedback <3 hope you enjoyed the read ◡̈

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250417

#cina🌙: tbr list

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cinnamon-won · 2 months ago

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Haven’t posted in ages but I’m crashing out he’s so fucking beautiful

#cina🌙: rambles #jake enhypen #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enchella #enhypen coachella #enhypen

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cinnamon-won · 2 months ago

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sanctuary | psh

synopsis: in which a prison escapee breaks in for shelter, but finds something he wants to keep and ruin.

genre: prison escapee au

pairing: escapee!sunghoon x afab!reader

warnings: yandre!sunghoon, possesive!sunghoon, reader is held hostage, non-con, lots of threatening, forced submission, oral (m.rec), slapping, choking, hair pulling, manhandling, fingering, gagging, spanking ass + pussy, light male masterbation, some blood. i think that’s it …

wc: 10.4k

a/n: a bit of a darker fic.. so please do take warnings seriously. my first time trying to write a yandre character so if it’s a bit meh i’m sorry!! ‘bullshit’ won the poll so stay tuned for that fic it’ll b out by the end of the month (hopefully) as well as the first chapter of ‘double trouble’. notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy!!

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

the sound of what you assume is your window shattering wakes you up from your sleep. still half asleep, you sit up on your bed—your heart racing as you look around your room with sleepy eyes.

"what the-" your murmur, eyes shooting to your window which was still in tact. a part of you wanted to get up and search the rest of your home, but the tired side of you convinces you to stay in bed. it was probably just the neighbour's cat again.

you had finally finished your finals, the lack of sleep and energy outweighing the thought of searching your home.

grumbling, you allow yourself to shut your eyes and fall back into your bed. the warmth of your blanket and sheets surrounding you as you sign in bliss—the thought of possibly being a victim to a break and enter slipping your mind.

you hear rustling outside your room, however choose to over look it.

not a good idea..

you shift under the blanket, tugging it higher over your shoulders with a sleepy sigh. the rustling sound outside your room grows louder for a moment, then stills. your mind barely registers it—dismissing it as the wind, or maybe the pipes, or maybe just your imagination playing tricks on you in the haze of half-sleep.

the room is quiet again.

too quiet.

but your body, still tense beneath the comfort of the sheets, eventually relaxes. the softness of your bed lulls you back into that cozy liminal space between dreams and awareness.

until a sound has your eyes snapping wide open.

click.

a door hinge.

your bedroom door.

you freeze in position, a chill creeping across your spine as your eyes widened in horror—looking up at your ceiling in fear.

that wasn't your imagination.

you sit up again, slower this time, heart pounding loud in your ears. the door is cracked open now. you know you closed it when you came to bed. you always do.

your voice catches in your throat.

"hello?" you call out weakly, trying to sound firm. "is someone there?"

no answer.

just more rustling. closer this time.

your hand reaches for your phone on the nightstand—but it's not there. your fingers scramble across the empty surface, your panic now matching the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat.

it's gone.

the silence presses in, thick and suffocating.

and then—you feel it. the weight.

a presence. in the room.

you whip your head toward the corner, breath catching in your lungs. a figure is standing there, shadowed and still. you can barely make out the sharp outline of him—tall, lean, covered in darkness like it's part of his skin.

the stranger steps forward, and the dim light from your bedside lamp finally catches his face.

a familiar face comes into view, thick prominent eyebrows, a sharp face, plump lips and midnight black locks. as if his usual appearance wasn't enough to send you off into panic he was covered in blood and dirt. his hair disheveled and wild, accompanied with glassy eyes.

it takes only a second for recognition to hit you like a punch to the gut.

park sunghoon.

your legs move before your mind does, kicking your blanket away as you lunge out of bed—only to be shoved back down hard.

his hand clamps around your wrist, and in a terrifying blur of strength and precision, he's on top of you—pinning you to the mattress with one knee between your legs, the other hand already pulling something from his back pocket.

"stop fighting," he grits out, voice low and breathless, like he's already on the edge. "i'm not here to hurt you. just need you to shut up and stay still."

you struggle harder, panic flaring hot and raw—but he's stronger. faster.

the zip-ties are around your wrists before you can scream. the sound of them tightening feels louder than your own heartbeat.

he pulls the covers off you completely, checking your legs, then curses under his breath. "should've grabbed more ties..."

you scream.

or try to.

but he's already pushing something between your lips—a shirt, wadded up and shoved into your mouth. it tastes like cotton and salt and tears. his hand presses it deeper, muffling the sound of your screams completely.

he stares down at you for a moment, chest heaving. then, slowly, he lifts his hand away from your mouth.

your eyes are wide. blown with terror.

he doesn't look angry. just tired.

"i wasn't supposed to pick a house that had anyone in it," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "just needed a place. just needed time."

you try to kick him. scream. thrash beneath him.

his hands pin your legs down with an easy shift of his weight, and his voice turns sharp again.

"don't," he warns. "i really don't want to hurt you. but i will."

the words hang in the air like smoke—thick, heavy, dangerous.

you stop moving.

and for a moment, the room is silent again.

sunghoon runs a hand down his face, eyes fluttering shut for a second as he tries to calm the adrenaline surging through him. when he opens them again, his gaze is locked on yours.

"i'll let you go... eventually," he says. "but if you do anything stupid—I won't feel bad about tying you to this bed and gagging you all over again."

he reaches out slowly, brushing hair out of your face like he hasn't just shattered your entire sense of safety. his touch is oddly gentle. confusingly careful.

"i'm not the monster they say i am," he whispers, almost as if he was convincing himself.

but right now, lying beneath him, helpless and bound, you can't tell the difference.

he finally pulls himself off you, but not before trailing his eyes down your body again—slow, deliberate, lingering far too long on the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths.

suddenly, you regretted wearing your tiny sleep shorts and tank top to bed.

you want to yell at him. fight him. spit in his face. but your mouth is stuffed, your wrists burn, and your fear makes your limbs too heavy to move.

he walks across the room without urgency, opening your closet like he lives here. like this is his place now. he pulls out one of your hoodies, yanks it over his bloodstained shirt, then grabs a pair of your socks and wipes the dirt from his face.

he doesn't say a word.

you watch, helpless, as he rummages through your drawers. your shelves. your life.

he's looking for something.

eventually, he finds it—your phone charger.

"need to use your hotspot," he mutters, plugging your phone in and sitting on the edge of your bed like the act of invading your home and tying you up was just some minor inconvenience.

your body jerks when the mattress dips beneath his weight.

he doesn't look at you, but his voice lowers again.

"you're gonna stay quiet," he says. "you're gonna stay still. and you're not gonna do anything that'll make me regret sparing you."

you glare at him, muffled curses twisting behind the fabric stuffed in your mouth.

finally, he turns to you. cold eyes meeting yours.

and then he smiles.

a small, tired, fucked-up smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"we'll get along just fine."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

you wake up in the exact same position you passed out in.

arms aching. wrists burning. legs numb from being tied up too long. your mouth is dry, your lips cracked around the fabric still shoved between them. every part of your body feels used—like even your skin remembers the panic of last night.

you blink slowly.

the room is bathed in warm daylight, soft and almost cruel in how normal it looks. like nothing's wrong. like this isn't a crime scene waiting to happen.

your eyes drag toward the door when it creaks open.

and then he walks in.

park sunghoon.

your body freezes up in fear, you knew him and of his crimes.

you were half-asleep at the library, head buried in a textbook, highlighter in one hand and a lukewarm coffee in the other. finals week was already draining what little life you had left in you, and the last thing you cared about was whatever the old guy at the next table was watching on his phone at full volume.

but then you heard it.

"—escaped late last night during a prison transfer. armed, dangerous, do not approach—"

your eyes flicked up, annoyance flashing before curiosity took over. you caught a glimpse of the screen—blurry, low-res, but clear enough. a mugshot.

young. dark hair. sharp eyes, jaw clenched like he'd rather eat glass than be photographed.

park sunghoon, the name beneath it read.

the guy beside you muttered something about the justice system falling apart before going back to his crossword.

you hadn't thought much of it. just another headline. another manhunt. the world was full of danger you'd never come close to.

well, until last night.

he looked cleaner now. fresher. his hair is damp, like he's showered. one of your hoodies is draped over his frame, sleeves pushed up casually as he carries in a glass of water and a granola bar—like this is some sick sleepover and not a hostage situation.

he glances at you, expression unreadable. then smirks faintly.

"you're awake."

you glare at him, rage bubbling beneath the surface of your exhaustion.

he walks over, crouches beside the bed, and places the glass on your nightstand.

"you gonna be good?" he asks. "nod if you are. shake your head if you want that gag shoved deeper."

your jaw clenches. you hold his gaze.

then, slowly, you nod.

he watches you for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion—then reaches up and pulls the crumpled shirt from your mouth. your jaw aches instantly, tongue thick and raw.

you cough, your voice barely a whisper. "fuck you."

he chuckles, it would've been cute if he wasn't holding you hostage in your own home, "thought we were starting over."

you don't respond.

he stands, pacing your room slowly as he opens the granola bar and bites into it. "you're lucky it was me. anyone else who broke in would've done worse than tie you up and take a shower."

he says it so casually it makes your stomach turn.

and for a few moments, you just lie there. breathing through the pain, waiting for an opening.

when he turns his back—your chance comes.

you twist, rolling off the edge of the bed. it's sloppy. painful. you hit the floor hard, knees burning as you try to scramble to your feet, legs still partially bound. you hop, trip, catch yourself on the dresser and launch toward the window.

you don't think. you just scream.

loud. broken. bloody murder.

sunghoon is on you in seconds.

"no—fuck—stop!"

you scream again, louder.

he grabs you from behind, one hand over your mouth, the other wrenching you back against his chest. your heart is hammering. you're kicking, thrashing, desperate. but he's stronger. faster.

again.

he spins you and shoves you against the wall, arm across your chest as he digs something from his pocket.

a black gag.

fabric. straps. thick and menacing.

"you had one chance," he growls. "just one. and you blew it."

your scream is muffled the second he stuffs the gag between your lips and tightens it around the back of your head. it's snug. suffocating. humiliating.

he holds your jaw, tilting your head up, breathing heavy against your cheek.

"next time you open that mouth without permission—" he growls, voice low and venomous, "—i'll gag you with my dick. understood?"

your breath stutters. your eyes burn with tears.

he pulls back, studying you. watching how your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. then, he lets go and takes a step back.

"new rules," he says calmly, like he hasn't just threatened to fuck your throat as punishment.

he raises a finger.

"one—no screaming. not once. i hear so much as a whimper out of you without my say-so, i'll make you regret it."

a second finger.

"two—you don't try to escape. you don't touch the door. you don't look at the window. you so much as think about running, i'll tie you up worse than before. i'll make it so you beg me not to leave you alone."

a third finger.

"three—you do what i say. when i say it. no attitude. no tricks. no more chances."

he steps forward again, slow and looming, until you feel his breath against your gagged mouth.

"break any of them," he whispers, "and next time, i'm not stopping at just words."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

you don't speak.

you don't scream.

you sit perfectly still on the edge of your bed, wrists still raw from the zip ties, legs aching—but obedient.

sunghoon watches you from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a slow, unreadable expression on his face. then, finally, he moves.

he walks in with the glass of water and a granola bar again, this time crouching in front of you and reaching behind your head to undo the gag. it slips from your mouth, slick with your spit.

you gasp softly, jaw stiff and sore, but say nothing—his threats still fresh in your mind.

he offers the water first, and you drink—slow, cautious sips. then the granola bar. you take it with trembling fingers, never breaking eye contact.

"good girl," he murmurs, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. you flinch at his touch, but he just smirks.

he leaves you untied this time.

your limbs are stiff, but you pretend not to notice. you chew slowly, swallow, nod when he tells you to stay put.

but your eyes are already moving. scanning. searching.

his phone is in his back pocket. but yours—your phone—is on the desk.

screen dark. unplugged. untouched.

you wait. bide your time. he leaves the room for a second. maybe to grab something. maybe just to test you.

you count your heartbeats. one. two. three—

you move.

you slide off the bed as quietly as possible, fingers creeping toward the desk. one foot in front of the other. your hand is just about to touch the edge of your phone when—

"what do you think you're doing?"

his voice is quiet. dangerously soft.

you freeze. your hand lingers over the phone, not daring to close the distance.

you turn slowly.

he's standing in the doorway again, arms crossed, jaw tight.

for a moment, you expect him to snap. to yell. to grab you by the hair and throw you back on the bed.

but he doesn't.

he smiles.

walks over slowly and picks the phone up himself, slipping it into his back pocket.

"strike one," he says calmly. "but i'll be nice. just this once."

he brushes past you, but there's tension in his movements now. less patience. more heat behind his stare.

you return to the bed, defeated but not broken. not yet.

and then—

ding-dong.

the doorbell.

you don't even think this time.

your body moves before your brain catches up. you run. toward the door, toward the one fucking hope you've had since this nightmare started.

you run down the stairs, your body trembling in fear and adrenaline as you make it to the last step—leaping for the door.

but he's faster.

he slams you against the wall with one arm across your chest, the other pressing tight around your throat.

you gasp—your feet nearly leave the floor as he holds you there.

his grip isn't bruising—yet—but it's tight enough to keep you from moving, from breathing too deep, from making a single sound.

you can hear the footsteps outside. then a knock.

sunghoon leans in, his lips brushing your ear.

"you make a sound," he hisses, "and i'll kill whoever is outside. right here."

snapping on the safety chain, sunghoon grabs a hold of the door knob. he opens it with a click before his hand reaches into his pocket—a gun. he makes sure that you can see it, raising his eyebrows as if to say 'don't test me.'

"oh! hey—sorry to bother you," a familiar voice says. "i'm looking for my cat again. little bastard slipped out last night. have you seen him?"

it's mr. han. your sweet old neighbor.

your eyes burn. your fingers twitch.

you try to speak, but sunghoon tightens his hand around your throat and leans his head out the door.

"hi," he says, perfectly pleasant. "i'm her boyfriend. she's in the shower right now, but i'll tell her you stopped by."

mr. han blinks in confusion, his soft smile slipping. "oh. i didn't know she had a boyfriend."

sunghoon glances at you over his shoulder, a smirk creeping across his face as he presses you harder into the wall.

"yeah, hasn't been to long. just moved in."

"well, good for her!" mr. han chuckles. "if you see a tabby, let me know, will you?"

"of course," sunghoon says, eyes squinting as he forces a smile. "have a good one."

sunghoon watches the elder man walk off the porch and zoom off of the lawn, he shuts the door.

locks it and turns to you slowly.

his grip around your throat doesn't loosen. it tightens.

"you just don't fucking learn." he slams you back against the wall hard enough to make the frame shake. your head knocks into the plaster, breath choking in your throat.

"you think i'm stupid? you think just 'cause you stayed quiet for a day that you could get bold?" his free hand moves, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. his eyes are dark. wild. no trace of the calm he faked a minute ago.

"what do i do to brats who don't listen?" he growls, voice low and threatening. "hmm? what did i promise i'd do?"

your heart drops in your chest.

his hand drops to your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. he manhandles you away from the wall and drags you up the stairs and towards your bed again, shoving you face-first into the mattress.

sunghoon's eyes snap to your behind, the vulnerable position you were in leaving little to his imagination of what you hid underneath your flimsy shorts.

"you want attention so bad?" he snaps. "fine. i'll give you attention."

his hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, pinned like prey. his other hands smoothens over your behind, grabbing a hold of the fat on your ass making you whine into the sheets.

"but after this—" he breathes against your ear, "—you'll beg to follow the rules."

"you remember what i said i'd gag you with next time you pulled shit like that?"

his voice is low. dangerous. every word laced with venom and heat before he's griping your jaw, thumb dragging over your trembling lips.

your silence earns you nothing. he flips you around, pushing you down onto the bed with your back against your soft sheets.

he tilts your head back further, pressing your skull against the headboard now, his body wedged between your knees.

"oh, now you're quiet?" he mocks, fingers tightening around your face in a grip that you were sure would leave bruises. "no attitude now that you know what's coming?"

you try to speak, to plead maybe—but your mouth barely opens before he shoves two fingers past your lips, forcing them deep against your tongue.

sunghoon holds back a groan when he feels how warm and wet your mouth was around his digits, pressing down on your tongue making you gag.

"nah," he growls, "you don't get to talk. you had your chance."

he pulls his fingers out, dripping with spit, and pulls down his pants with ease without taking his eyes off you.

"since you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, i'll put it to better use."

he's straddling your waist, knees on either side of your body as his cock stands proud in front of you.

he fists your hair, yanking your head toward his cock, already thick and flushed with need. the first tap of it against your lips is sharp, mean.

"open."

you hesitate—so he slaps it against your cheek. hard.

"i said open."

your lips part automatically. it's instinct at this point—survival.

he doesn't ease in.

he shoves, thick and heavy, making you choke on the first thrust. both hands grip your head now, holding you exactly where he wants you, using your mouth like he promised.

"there you go. that's better. this is how i like you—stuffed full, not making a sound," sunghoon grunts out, basking in the way your warm mouth seemed to suck him in.

you gag as he pushes deeper, spit dripping from your chin as he rocks his hips, forcing you to take it all.

his voice stays in your ear, low and taunting.

"next time you scream? next time you run? i'll fuck your mouth so hard you won't even remember your own name."

your eyes water, throat stretched, his cock filling every inch. but he doesn't stop. doesn't let up. the tip of his length hits the back of your throat repeatedly as you try to push yourself away from his brutal thrusts. sunghoon sees this and his grip in your hair becomes stronger, stuffing his cock deeper so your nose touched his pelvis and your breathing stuttered.

"you like this, don't you? being punished. being used. my little brat who acts tough but melts the second i get my hands on her."

his pace quickens, brutal now, the sound of your wet gagging and his filthy growls echoing off the walls.

"better than screaming, isn't it?" he sneers. "go ahead—choke on it, since you couldn't behave."

your hands claw weakly at his thighs, but he just holds you there, hips snapping forward, using your mouth until your throat is raw.

"fuck. your mouth is so good when it's used right," he mutters lowly, feeling that familiar feeling tighten in his lower stomach as he watches your tear stained face take his cock over and over again.

with no warning, he shoots his load into your mouth—coating it white. you gag at the feeling, your eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen begins to really get to you.

and only when he's satisfied—only when he's sure you won't be trying to run again—does he finally pull out, dragging his spit and cum covered cock over your lips.

"swallow," he demands.

afraid of what he'd do if you disobeyed, you obliged.

"look at you," he pants, gripping your chin. "fucking perfect like this."

he leans down, mouth against your ear.

"you make a sound again—and next time, it won't just be your mouth i use."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

it's been days.

you don't know how many, exactly—time feels warped in here. sunlight comes and goes through the windows, but you're barely conscious enough to count the difference anymore.

you're weak. too weak.

he barely feeds you. you get enough to survive, some water, maybe crackers or a half-eaten bar—but not enough to fight back. not enough to scream through the gag still strapped tightly across your mouth.

your wrists are red, raw from how often he binds them. sometimes behind your back, sometimes above your head. your legs, too—he likes to keep you where he can see you, spread open and helpless, arms cinched tight and useless at your sides.

he doesn't talk much now. just watches you. moves you. like a thing he owns.

it was supposed to be temporary for him.

a place to hide. one night—maybe two. long enough to lay low, avoid the flashing lights and barking dogs. just long enough to scrape by without being seen.

he didn't expect the house to be so quiet.

so soft.

he didn't expect to hear the sound of slow breathing upstairs—the kind that came from deep sleep. vulnerable. defenseless.

and he definitely didn't expect you.

the first time he crept into your room and saw you lying there, curled beneath the sheets, skin glowing under moonlight, he nearly forgot to breathe. fuck, you were pretty. a cute little thing in a tank top and sleep shorts, completely unaware of the danger breathing over you.

it should've ended there. he should've turned around and used the basement or the attic or anywhere else.

but you shifted in your sleep—lips parting, a soft whimper slipping from your throat—and it hit him.

you didn't know he was there. you didn't know anything, he could do whatever he wanted.

and no one would stop him.

his chest tightened. not with guilt. not with hesitation.

with possibility.

he could make this place more than a hiding spot.

he could make you his.

his to keep. to touch. to break.

he had ruined your peaceful sleep when he knocked over a vase that you had placed on your vanity. he knew what he had to do from there.

he told himself he'd leave eventually. but the longer he stayed, the less he wanted to go.

he started to crave the way you looked at him—wide-eyed and shaking. he started to need the way your body recoiled, only to soften when he touched you gently. the way you flinched, but didn't fight—not right away at least.

he could mold you.

he could make you something new. something better.

his.

the house became his kingdom. and you—his prize.

he told himself you were safer this way.

he was safer this way.

because if he let you go—if he walked out and left you behind—there was no guarantee you wouldn't take something from him with you.

and if he had to be on the run... might as well have a pet to keep him company. one that couldn't run. one that knew who she belonged to.

you try not to look at him anymore.

but then—this time—it's different.

he walks in with that quiet menace, dragging a chair with one hand and a towel with the other.

you're curled in the corner of your bed, wrists tied, gag biting into your cheeks. your limbs shake with the effort of just staying upright. your skin feels oily, dirty, your scalp itchy from days without washing.

you've never wanted a bath more.

but not from him.

"you stink," he says flatly, his plump lips pulled into a thin line.

you look up, exhausted eyes narrowed.

he walks over, grabs your arm, and yanks you to your feet like you weigh nothing.

you stumble, legs buckling—but his grip stays locked around your bicep, dragging you down the hall and into the bathroom.

"don't fight me," he mutters. "you don't have the strength."

he's not wrong.

but your pride forces you to resist anyway—so he slams you against the sink.

you grunt, head hitting the mirror lightly. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing you down.

you scream against the gag, but it's useless. muffled. pitiful.

he turns the faucet on in the tub, steam rising slowly. the water looks too warm—comforting, tempting—and it makes you hate him more.

you look up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to let you free so you could at the very least bathe yourself. his cold eyes remain the same, reaching down to grip the flimsy straps of your tank top.

he doesn't undress you gently. he yanks your shirt up over your head, roughly tugging it off your arms even with your wrists bound. your shorts follow. he doesn't avert his eyes—he drinks you in, every shiver, every twitch, every part of you exposed and vulnerable.

his eyes linger on your tits, sitting on your chest with your nipples hard from the cold air in the room. he swallows harshly, dragging his gaze down to instead linger on your thighs and your uncovered core.

you're trembling now, from weakness or humiliation or both.

he grabs your waist and lifts you into the tub like you're nothing but a doll. the hot water stings your skin at first, but you sink into it anyway—your body aching for warmth, for some kind of relief.

you expect him to leave, to have some mercy. he doesn't.

he kneels beside the tub and grabs a cup, filling it before dumping it over your head. your hair clings to your face, your gag soaked.

he works a bottle of shampoo into his hands and starts lathering it into your scalp. not gentle—but not cruel either. just firm. efficient. like this is just another task.

his hands roam as he scrubs. over your shoulders. down your back. between your thighs. you jerk when he gets there—more out of instinct than strength—but his hand tightens on your thigh.

"stay still."

his fingers drag along your inner thigh, slow, invasive. he doesn't go further, just lets you know he could if he really wanted to.

and you're forced to sit there, bound and gagged, water lapping at your chest while he washes the filth from your skin like you're some helpless pet.

"next time," he says lowly, rinsing your hair, "you listen. you don't fight. you don't run."

you can't even respond. all you can do is whimper beneath the wet gag, body trembling in his grasp. he finishes washing you, lifting you out of the tub, wrapping you in the towel like he cares.

but the second your feet hit the floor, he's gripping your arm again—dragging you back to the room.

you don't even resist.

you're too tired. too humiliated. too broken in.

he throws you on the bed, ties your wrists to the headboard again with a new set of restraints. this time tighter, less forgiving.

he fixes the gag and adjusts the straps. he brushes your wet hair back from your face with a mockingly sweet touch, his hands gentle as he looks down at you with affection.

"see?" he whispers, brushing his lips just above your ear. "i take care of what's mine."

he dries you off just enough so the sheets won't get soaked—then he tosses the towel aside like it means nothing and grabs your ankles, dragging your body up the bed like dead weight.

you try to squirm, but he slaps your thigh. hard.

"don't start."

you're still gagged. your wrists are already tied above your head. there's no room for rebellion here—and he knows it.

he climbs on top of you, straddling your hips with his knees. he's not naked, but you are. he doesn't need to be. the only thing that matters right now is you.

your body.

your obedience.

he cups your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks roughly, pulling your gaze to meet his.

"look at you," he sneers. "a fucking mess. barely standing. can't talk. can't run. all that fire you had—where the fuck did it go?" you can't answer—not with the gag pressing your tongue down, soaking with your spit. you just blink up at him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

"you wanted to be saved, didn't you?" he mocks, brushing his fingers over your cheek just to slap it again. "thought someone would come for you. knock on the door, maybe hear you screaming."

he laughs. bitter.

"they came. and you failed. just like everything else you've tried since i got here."

his hands start roaming again—gripping your breasts, digging into your ribs, sliding down to your stomach like he's taking inventory of every inch he owns.

"this body?" he mutters. "not yours anymore. it's mine. to touch. to punish. to fuck."

he grabs your thighs, spreading them roughly, pushing your knees apart like you don't even get a say.

"you're not a person right now," he breathes. "you're a hole. a toy. and you'll be whatever i say you are until i get bored."

you whimper against the gag, eyes starting to sting. but that only seems to turn him on more. he leans down, mouth at your ear again, voice sickeningly sweet.

"cry. beg. scream into that gag. it won't change a fucking thing. no one's going to save you."

his hand finds your core, pressing his fingers against you with no warning, no care. "already wet," he mutters, almost smug. "pathetic."

he drags his fingers up slowly, deliberately—just enough to make you flinch, to remind you how little control you have over yourself.

"you'll learn, baby. you'll learn. and when you do—when you stop fighting and just take it like the good little thing you are? it'll be easier."

he slaps between your legs. hard. you jolt.

"until then? i'll break you."

you don't know when the pain became pleasure. maybe it was the moment he touched you without hurting you. maybe it was how long it's been since you felt anything that wasn't fear or humiliation. or maybe it's just that your body's giving in, finally breaking, surrendering to him because it's the only option left.

sunghoon sees it. feels it.

his fingers slide over you again—slow this time, calculated. he presses two between your chubby folds, dragging them through your slick like he's proving a point. he presses hard on your clit before rubbing right circles, watching your face contort into one of discomfort and pleasure.

"look at this," he breathes out heavily, watching your body twitch with his every touch. "you like it."

you shake your head, gag muffling your protests—but your hips twitch forward without your permission.

his smile is cold. smug.

"no?" he mocks, rubbing lazy circles around your clit with the pads of his fingers. "then why are you so fucking wet? you're soaking my fingers, honey."

you squeeze your thighs together instinctively—but he shoves them apart again, gripping them wide open and holding them there in a bruising manner.

"don't hide from me. not after this."

his other hand slides up your body, fingers wrapping lightly around your throat, not squeezing—yet. just enough to make you feel it. make you still.

"you want to cum?" he asks, cocking his head—his dark locks falling over his forehead as his lips curl into a smirk. "is that what this is? you think i'll reward you after the shit you pulled? after how bad you've been, you think you deserve it? hm?"

his fingers slow down, barely touching now. feather-light. teasing. "maybe i should edge you until you break. over and over. never let you finish. see how long it takes before you're begging."

your breath stutters—every inch of you tense, desperate.

he sees it. loves it.

"or..."

he leans in close, lips brushing your ear.

"...maybe you can earn it."

you freeze.

his fingers start circling again, more firmly now, making your hips buck involuntarily as you chase your release desperately. your heart aches at the feeling, shame filling you.

"yeah. that's right. i'll let you cum—but only when you prove you're mine. when you stop fighting. when you're good."

he pulls the gag down, slow and wet with spit. your lips are trembling, red and swollen. sunghoon watches your lips twitch, your chest heave up and down as you struggle to keep in your lewd sounds.

"say it," he whispers.

you hesitate.

his hand leaves your throat, trailing back down your chest. he pinches your nipple hard, making you jolt in pain.

"say it."

your voice cracks when it comes out. weak. wrecked. ashamed.

"...i'm yours."

he grins. dark. dangerous.

"again."

"i'm... i'm yours, sunghoon," your voice coming out weak and strangled as he continues to tweak at your nipple and rub at your core.

his hand between your legs moves faster now, relentless, cruel in how perfectly it works your body—building that ache, that pressure, that need.

"you cum only when i say," he growls. "not before. not without permission."

you nod. frantically. desperate for a release, desperate for any other feeling besides pain and humiliation.

your thighs start to shake, breath stuttering, but just when you're about to fall over the edge—

he pulls away. completely.

you sob. instantly. broken, needy.

he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, mockingly sweet.

"not yet, baby. you're not there yet."

he strokes his cock lazily now, right in front of your face—watching you unravel. you hadn't noticed when he had pulled himself free from the restraints of his pants, watching him touch himself as he made you squirm and beg.

"you want to cum?"

you nod again, more desperate.

"then earn it. really earn it."

he slides two fingers back inside you—slow, deep, hitting exactly where he knows will make you cry.

"submit."

his fingers curl deep inside you again—slow, precise, knowing.

you arch, back bowing against the mattress involuntarily, your wrists straining in their binds. it feels too good, too dangerous. you bite your lip to keep from moaning, but it slips out anyway—a soft, shaky sound that betrays everything you want to hide.

he grins, "there she is."

you glare at him. breathing hard. eyes glassy, but still sharp. "fuck... you," you hiss.

he chuckles, low and unbothered, never stopping the rhythm of his hand.

"yeah?" he leans in, mouth dragging along your jaw. "you say that, but your pussy's soaking my fingers."

his thumb moves to your clit—just a light press, a tease—and your whole body flinches. you clench your teeth, swallowing a moan. he notices.

"still fighting," he murmurs. "i love that."

he stops stroking himself, his hand snaking up to your throat again, squeezing this time. firm enough to make your breath hitch.

"but it won't save you."

his pace picks up. fingers thrusting deeper, thumb rubbing tighter circles. the pressure builds fast—your body's too sensitive, too deprived—and you hate how close you are, how easily he has you trembling.

"don't you dare cum," he growls. "not until i say." the sound of wet smacking fills the room, you could hear yourself squelch against his fingers, your lower stomach tightening as you buck your hips against his hands.

you try. you really try.

but your hips keep rolling into his touch, your walls clenching around his fingers, the pleasure dragging you closer and closer to the edge. your moans break free, desperate, breathless, despite every part of you screaming not to give him the satisfaction.

he watches it happen with dark amusement. "look at you," he says. "trying so hard to hold out. you're pathetic."

you meet his eyes, defiant even through the haze.

"i'm not... yours," you whisper.

his hand stops.

your whole body seizes up with the sudden loss, a sob catching in your throat.

"no?" he murmurs.

he pulls his fingers out, slow and sticky, then slaps your inner thigh hard enough to sting.

"then you don't get to cum."

you cry out, body trembling. your thighs rub together, instinctively chasing friction, but he grabs your jaw hard and yanks your face toward his before landing a strong smack to your puffy cunt.

"say it again," he demands. "go on. tell me you're not mine."

you don't. not right away. he smirks.

"thought so."

he leans in, lips brushing yours—but not kissing. just hovering. "you'll break," he whispers. "piece by piece. you'll cum when i let you. breathe when i let you. and someday, you'll say it and mean it—i'm yours, sunghoon."

you spit in his face.

it lands right below his eye.

he pauses. then he laughs—low and deadly—and wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"good," he says, gripping your chin harder. "keep fighting. it makes owning you so much sweeter."

he shoves the gag back into your mouth, tight, unforgiving. your jaw begins to ache again, crying against the restraint.

"no more chances."

he ties your legs open, so you can't even squirm now. exposed. vulnerable. soaked.

"you'll cum when you beg. and mean it."

he slides his fingers back inside, slower now. torturous. your gummy walls welcome his fingers, stretching to accommodate the girth of his digits.

"let's see how long you last."

he thinks he has you right where he wants you.

tied, gagged, spread open—body sensitive, on edge, desperate. but he's predictable now. obsessive. careless in the way he touches you, in the way he lingers. like you're not just a hostage anymore—like you're something more.

and that? that's a weakness.

he's working you with his fingers again—slow, deep strokes meant to drag out the ache, to make you beg.

but this time, you don't squirm.

you start moaning for him.

soft at first—just breathy little sounds muffled through the gag—but enough to make his head tilt. enough to make his fingers pause for a second.

you moan again. louder this time. exaggerated. needy. you flutter your lashes, shift your hips just the way you know he likes.

his gaze flickers down to your face, suspicious. "what're you doing?" he mutters, voice low with suspicion.

you blink up at him—wide-eyed, innocent—then roll your hips into his hand with a soft, choked sound.

he curses under his breath.

you can feel it—the tension in him, the way his fingers falter for half a second. he likes this. too much. he likes seeing you like this. needy. soft. wanting him.

so you give it to him.

you moan into the gag again—arching your back a little, letting your thighs tremble, pretending to lose yourself.

his hand tightens on your leg. his breathing shifts as he curls his fingers in your cunt making you delirious.

"fuck," he mutters. "look at you. finally learning."

you nod. slow. deliberate.

then you hold his gaze. and you smirk. just a twitch of your lips—barely there. but he sees it and he freezes.

his eyes darken, narrowing, hand yanking back from between your legs like he's been burned.

you tilt your head, mockingly sweet.

"you think you're clever, huh?" he growls.

you nod again, smug, even through the gag. he grabs your throat—hard this time, his thumb pressing into the side just enough to make your vision pulse.

"you think you can manipulate me?"

your lashes flutter, but you don't stop smiling—not with your eyes. not with your body still glistening, still wanting.

you're challenging him. and he lives for it.

"fine," he breathes, voice shaking with something between rage and arousal. "you want to play that game? we'll play."

he rips the gag out of your mouth, shoving two fingers in right after, deep, gagging you all over again.

"suck."

you choke, but your lips wrap around them anyway—defiance still burning in your eyes, even as he uses your mouth like it's his.

he groans.

"you want to be in control?" he snarls, pulling his fingers out with a wet pop. "then earn it."

he flips you over onto your stomach, rough—palms pressing your face into the mattress.

"but don't forget who you belong to."

he grabs your hips, yanking you back until your ass is flush against him, his breath hot against your spine.

"mine," he growls. "you'll always be mine."

you're still face down when he lets go of your hips. your cheek's pressed to the mattress, wrists raw from the binds, your body trembling—but not just from exhaustion anymore.

you got to him.

you felt it—the hesitation, the way he gripped you too tightly, the way his voice shook when you moaned just the right way. he's not just trying to break you now. he's unraveling with you.

you breathe slowly, letting your body go limp—making him think he's won again.

he grabs your jaw, turns your face toward him. "what's that look for?" he mutters. your lips are swollen, spit-slick, and you part them just enough to whisper, "i thought you liked when i was good."

his jaw tightens. you can see it—how those words land somewhere deep, how they confuse him. punish him. "you're playing games."

you blink up at him, feigning innocence. "no, sunghoon. i'm just... learning how to please you."

he stares.

and in that pause—in that split-second hesitation—you win again.

he pulls back just a little, his hand still on your throat, but lighter. his thumb drags up the side of your neck, over your pulse. he can feel how fast your heart is racing—but he can't tell anymore if it's fear... or excitement.

"you think i'll go easy on you just because you moan a little and look pretty?" he growls, but the edge in his voice is starting to waver.

"no," you whisper. "but you liked it."

his eyes flicker down your body—bruised, bitten, wrecked. then back up to your lips, still curved into the faintest smirk.

"you don't get to control me," he says, but it's not as sharp as before. you lean forward slowly, as much as the binds will allow, lips brushing his ear.

"don't i already?"

he grabs your hair—rough, punishing—but it's reactionary now. desperate. his breathing's shallow, his cock pushing up against your ass, you feel how hard he is.

"you're mine," he snaps.

you hum, soft and sweet. "then make me feel like it."

it's the final push.

he curses, shoves you back onto your back, climbs on top of you again—but this time, something's changed. his hands are still rough, but they tremble. his eyes burn with hunger, but there's conflict behind it.

because now? you're not just a hostage anymore.

you're a temptation. a threat.

he kisses you—finally. messy, punishing. full of frustration and need and something deeper he doesn't want to name. and when he pulls back, his voice is strained.

"keep playing with fire," he says. "but don't forget—i'll burn you."

you smile, lips swollen, blood on your teeth.

"maybe i want to burn."

he stares at you like you just did the unthinkable.

because you did.

you made him want you—not just in the brutal, instinctive way he always has—but in that dangerous way. the way that makes him hesitate. that makes him feel.

your smile is slow. calculated. seductive in its smugness.

"what's wrong?" you whisper, still tied down, but holding all the power in your eyes. "can't handle someone else pulling the strings?"

sunghoon doesn't move at first.

he just breathes. shaky. tense.

you think you've done it—you've finally broken through. made him doubt himself.

but then—

his hand wraps around your throat and slams you into the mattress, pinning you so hard the air punches out of your lungs.

"you think this is a game?" he snarls, voice low and trembling with rage. "you think i don't see what you're doing?"

your legs kick instinctively, wrists pulling hard against the binds. your chest rises in shallow, panicked breaths beneath him.

he leans in—forehead pressed to yours, wild eyes burning into you as he stares at you with a crazed look.

"you almost had me," he says, like it's a confession. like it kills him to admit it. "but you're not the one in control."

his hand grabs your jaw—fingers digging in bruisingly tight.

"i gave you a taste," he growls. "a sliver of reward. and you thought you could twist it. twist me."

he shoves your thighs apart again, this time using his own knees to keep them there. immobilizing you completely.

you try to turn your face away—deny him the satisfaction—but he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

"no more teasing. no more playing smart. you want to win? then earn it the way you were always meant to."

his fingers are back between your legs in seconds—this time rough, relentless. punishing. no teasing, no slow build.

you scream into the room, not out of fear—but at the overload. he's not holding back anymore.

you could feel every drag of his digits in your slick walls, your body convulsing as he hooks his fingers in you—pounding into your cunt.

he's reclaiming every ounce of control you tried to steal. "you cum when i say," he hisses, voice right against your lips. "you break when i decide."

you whimper beneath him, still resisting—still fighting with what little strength you have—but your body's traitorous. you're already dripping, already twitching under his touch.

he sees it. feels it.

and that's what snaps the last bit of restraint in him.

he presses his mouth to your ear, voice dark and ragged.

"i'll keep you right here until your body forgets what it was like to disobey."

his rhythm doesn't stop—not even when your legs start to shake, not even when your head thrashes side to side, overwhelmed.

"you want to manipulate me?" he pants. "go ahead. try. but every time you do..."

his fingers curl deep, making you scream.

"...i'll make you cum harder than you ever have in your life. and then i'll deny you again."

your tears spill. your hips jerk. your moans are breaking free even when you try to swallow them back.

and sunghoon smiles. wide. unhinged.

"you don't win, baby."

he leans in, kissing the corner of your mouth softly—mockingly.

"you submit."

you're gasping beneath him, body limp, sweat clinging to your skin, thighs still twitching from the assault he just dragged you through. your chest rises and falls in jagged, uneven breaths. your wrists ache from how hard you pulled and you taste blood from biting at you lip to contain yourself.

but your eyes? still burning.

sunghoon hovers over you—breathing heavy, watching the way your body trembles. there's pride in his gaze. possession. satisfaction.

he leans in again, brushing your lips with his, voice low and mocking.

"there she is," he breathes. "my good girl."

you pause—breathing, blinking, letting the silence hang.

then you smile.

bloody lip, tear-stained cheeks, body ruined...

you still fucking smile.

"you're pathetic," you whisper, voice hoarse and cracked but sharp like a blade. "all that, just to prove you're in charge."

his jaw tightens. the grip on your face hardens again, but you don't flinch. not this time.

"i made you lose control," you rasp. "again."

his nostrils flare.

you lean forward, barely—just enough for your lips to graze his cheek.

"and you'll keep doing it," you breathe. "because you need me more than i'll ever need you. you sick fuck."

for a second, just a second—his whole body stills.

and you know. you got to him again.

your words linger in the air like smoke—thick, suffocating, taunting. and sunghoon just stares at you.

quiet. too quiet.

you feel the shift in the room immediately—like the oxygen's been sucked out, like the world itself is holding its breath.

his hand slides from your jaw to your throat.

slow. calm. dangerous.

his gaze never leaves yours.

"say it again," he murmurs. dead calm. deadly.

you blink—swallowing hard, but refusing to look away.

and that's what makes him snap.

his hand slams you into the mattress again—choking, bruising, cutting off your breath as he straddles your body with renewed fury.

"you think this is about need?" he hisses, low and shaking. "you think i'm the one that's weak?"

his free hand grabs your wrists, rips the bindings tighter, yanking your arms above your head so hard your shoulders strain.

"look at you," he sneers. "lying here soaked, shaking, moaning for me like a fucking whore—" his voice cracks. "—and you think you have control?"

you try to twist your body, to squirm away—but there's nowhere to go. his grip on your throat tightens.

your lips part in a gasping cry—but he's already reaching for the gag again.

"you want to talk?" he growls. "you lost that right."

he stuffs it in rougher this time—no care, no softness—pressing it deep into your mouth before tying it so tight behind your head your jaw aches.

he doesn't give you time to breathe. doesn't give you space to recover.

he flips you again, stomach down—your body limp, wrists still bound tight above your head, legs spread.

he grabs your hair, pulls your head back so you're arched beneath him.

"you want to twist me around your finger?" he breathes against your ear, his voice shaking with pure rage. "then i'll fucking break every single bone in your body until there's nothing left to twist."

his hand slides back between your thighs—rougher now, punishing.

no more rhythm. just control.

you scream into the gag—muffled, helpless, as your hips buck and shake without your permission.

"no more pretending," he growls. "no more teasing, no more games."

he grabs your ass, slapping it hard, again and again, until the skin stings raw beneath his palm.

your legs kick, your body trembles, your sobs spill out in broken little whimpers.

but it only excites him more.

"you want to be smart?" he snarls, pressing his body down over yours, fully covering you. caging you. "then learn something, baby."

he thrusts his fingers back in, curling them cruelly until your entire body jerks beneath him.

"you don't win," he hisses. "you submit. you obey. and if you don't..."

his mouth trails down your spine, hot breath against your skin.

"...i'll make you beg for mercy."

your body's shaking beneath him. raw. used. aching in ways you didn't know were possible.

your jaw throbs from the gag, your throat burns from choked sobs, your wrists are nearly numb from how tight he's bound you. your skin stings where he slapped you, and your thighs are soaked, muscles twitching from overstimulation.

you're a mess. his mess.

he kneels behind you, breath heavy, chest rising and falling like a man who just won a war.

but when he grabs your hair again and yanks your face up from the mattress—

he sees it.

that look.

that tiny, fucking spark that shouldn't be there.

he growls, yanks the gag down—ripped so fast it leaves a burn around your mouth—and grabs your jaw.

"go on," he hisses. "say something smart. i fucking dare you."

you cough, breathless and wrecked, lips parted, face smeared with sweat and tears. you look at him—eyes glassy but locked onto his.

then—

you smile.

small. crooked. blood at the corner of your mouth.

but it's a smile.

"...that all you got?"

he stares at you like you just set the whole world on fire. his chest heaves. fists clenched. he doesn't know if he wants to destroy you or worship you.

and that's what makes you laugh. soft. strained. broken, but alive. you spit the blood from your mouth onto the mattress.

"you can break my body all you want, sunghoon," you whisper, voice rasped raw. "but you'll never be more than the scared little boy who needed rope and violence just to keep a girl in his bed."

his hand flies.

your head jerks to the side, cheek stinging, but you don't cry out. instead—you turn your face back slowly, looking up at him through swollen eyes.

smiling again.

"you're pathetic," you breathe.

sunghoon's whole body tenses. you can see it. feel it. his eyes darken. his hands shake.

but for the first time, there's hesitation. you've planted the seed. and now? he doesn't just want to dominate you. he wants to own you. fully. mind, body, soul.

and that means breaking what's left of your fire.

completely.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

the days blend like bruises—fading into one another, painful, discolored, ugly reminders of time passed. your body is thin now, your limbs weak, skin pale from lack of sunlight. everything smells like sweat and confinement. the bindings around your wrists and ankles chafe more with each passing hour, and even when he unties them briefly—to "care" for you, to feed or bathe you—you never forget what they're there for.

sunghoon has shifted. less violent now, more possessive. frighteningly tender, like the calm after a storm that knows it'll return.

"you're mine now," he whispers as he brushes your hair, the back of his knuckles grazing your cheek. "you stopped screaming. that means you understand."

you don't answer. you haven't in a while.

he likes it that way. but that doesn't mean your mind has gone silent.

you're just... waiting.

and on this morning, as sunlight spills across the floor and he leaves the room to scavenge the kitchen, you push yourself off the bed. legs wobble beneath you, almost giving out. your mouth is dry, lips cracked. your arms are sore from the way they've been pulled above your head for hours.

but you stand.

bare feet drag across the hardwood toward the cracked-open window. you lean against it, arms limp over the sill, eyes half-lidded.

and then—

movement outside.

him.

mr. han, the older man from next door, wearing his usual cap and jacket, walking past with a leash in hand and no cat at the end of it. he's scanning the street.

your breath catches. you shift—just barely. the curtain twitches with you.

he glances up.

and freezes.

his mouth opens slightly, confused. then worried.

your fingers curl around the edge of the window frame.

a second passes. he squints. takes a step closer.

and you nod. the smallest movement. a desperate one.

his eyes widen.

he takes off down the street—fast, but not frantic, trying not to draw attention. your legs give out, and you slump to the floor just as the front door clicks open again.

"where are you?" sunghoon calls out.

panic races through you, but your limbs won't move fast enough.

he appears in the doorway a second later.

eyes drop to you.

your body crumpled by the window.

and that's all it takes.

he lunges.

his hands are on you instantly—grabbing your arms, dragging you up with no care for your trembling body. he spins you toward the bed, but you're dead weight now, slumping in his grip.

"what the fuck did you do," he growls, voice tight with fear. "did someone see you?"

you don't answer.

he shakes you hard, fingers digging into your arms. "did he see you?"

your silence is enough.

his breathing becomes frantic. he shoves you back onto the bed and runs to the front window. peeks through the blinds.

and curses.

"fuck. fuck!"

he spins around, pacing.

then—

sirens.

distant.

not close yet, but unmistakable. your heart surges.

sunghoon's entire face crumples with fury and panic.

he grabs a bag—throws it across the room. opens drawers. grabs knives. rope.

sirens grow louder.

closer.

you're still lying on the bed, too weak to fight, but your eyes track his every movement.

he moves to the door. he's going to run, but something stops him.

you.

he turns, stares at you for a beat. long and quiet. then walks back toward you slowly. you flinch when he reaches for your face—but he doesn't hurt you.

instead, he cups your cheek. wipes a streak of something off your skin. sweat or tears. maybe both.

"you did this," he whispers.

his voice is calm again.

the sirens are just outside now—cars skidding, doors slamming.

he leans in closer. kisses your forehead.

"i'll see you again."

and then—

bang—bang—BANG.

"police! open up!"

the door doesn't wait for an answer. it bursts open in seconds. officers storm inside—guns raised, shouting commands.

sunghoon stands tall. his hands rise slowly. he doesn't struggle.

but he never takes his eyes off you.

not once.

as they shove him to the ground, shouting, cuffing him, dragging him away—

he turns his head back to look at you.

eyes wide. wild and devoted.

"i'll find you," he calls, voice breaking. "no matter where they take me. you belong to me."

he never thought it would end like this.

face pressed to the hardwood, cold metal biting into his wrists. police shouting over each other, boots stomping through his space—your space.

they're dragging him away now. but his eyes won't leave you.

not once.

you're huddled near the corner of the bed—blanket pulled over your shoulders, shivering, pale, but awake. not limp. not broken. your eyes are on him.

terrified and defiant.

just like the first time you stared him down.

he thought he'd taken that out of you. smoothed your edges, broken your fight. he thought you'd learned.

but now, looking at you...he sees it.

you never stopped burning. you just waited for the moment to breathe.

it makes his teeth grit.

he remembers the first night he stood over your bed, zip ties in his hands, heart thudding not with fear but need. the thrill of control, the high of being wanted—or at least needed—by something warm, soft, his.

you were supposed to need him by now.

he told himself he'd remake you. that it was fate you were the one sleeping in this house, with the window left open like an invitation.

you were supposed to belong to him.

but now? they're hauling him away and he's powerless.

just like he was before. before the escape. before he found you. before he felt that sick sense of purpose in your screams and silence alike.

you're slipping from him.

you're blinking and breathing and safe in someone else's arms now. and he knows—knows deep in the marrow of his bones—that they're going to take you far away from him.

his lip curls. he twists in the officer's grip, eyes locked on yours.

"i'll see you again," he growls, voice hoarse with rage and obsession. "you hear me? you're mine."

you don't reply.

you just watch him disappear down the hallway.

no more ropes. no more gags. no more silence.

just the ghost of his voice echoing down the corridor, and the sound of your own breath finally filling your lungs—free.

you tremble.

someone rushes to your side—a medic. hands on your face, checking your vitals, voice soft and reassuring. but all you can do is stare at the door.

where he disappeared.

and pray he never keeps that promise.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

#cina🌙: tbr list

2K notes · View notes

cinnamon-won · 2 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ 01. NEW CONTENT DROPPED

warningsᝰ.ᐟ masturbation, unprotected sex, soft praise kink, noona kink, light crying, degradation kink, etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

statusᝰ.ᐟ 1/9 completed!

taglistᝰ.ᐟ @starry-eyed-bimbo @vixialuvs @justaquarium @dark-moon-light02 @deobitifull @minjeong28 @wonzzziezzzz @wonsohl @psychicyouthfox @honeyfever @strayy-kidz @bloomiize @tunafishyfishylike @jaehaki @ihearteatingxo @songbyeonkim @sol3chu @mo0neng3ne @strxwbloody @hii01mii @merwdusa @dorrissakurada @lycxee @frequentlykit @heeenha6484 @sjakewrld @stwrlightt @parkjjongswifey @haneulhee @fr34k4c1dr41n @cozyre @vwricky @nyxtwixx @nuggets4lifers @yunkiconico @mynameis-rosie1 @leeknowslefteyebrow @babygguk98 @noiiny @horijiro

──

you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until the number on the page blurs in front of your eyes. the red ink bleeds through the letter like it’s been branded there on purpose, like it’s taunting you. bold, underlined, and cruel: payment past due. the amount is higher than you thought. higher than last month. higher than what’s sitting in your checking account—and your savings? nonexistent. your fingers twitch around the edges of the paper, and you stare at it for a few seconds longer, as if maybe if you look hard enough, the numbers will shrink, change, disappear entirely.

but they don’t.

your hands move slowly, almost disconnected, as you place the letter down on the edge of the kitchen counter. the paper crinkles beneath your fingertips, the sound sharp in the quiet of the apartment. you rake your fingers through your hair, dragging your nails gently across your scalp, trying to ground yourself—trying not to panic. it’s not working.

you don’t have time for this. not now. not with finals looming, two shifts left this weekend, and rent due in five days.

the sound of approaching footsteps makes you flinch.

“everything okay?” nari’s voice is soft, cautious, like she already knows the answer. she probably does. she always does.

you don’t look at her. not yet. you feel her presence behind you, hovering by the counter, hesitating. she picks up the letter carefully, and you hear her breath catch as her eyes scan the contents. there’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“it’s more than last month,” she says, barely above a whisper.

you nod, still not meeting her eyes. your throat feels dry, your heart pounding behind your ribs like it’s trying to escape. the shame tastes bitter in your mouth.

“i can’t pay it,” you finally say, voice flat. “i barely made it through last month’s bill. and now they’ve added more fees.”

it’s not new. this has been happening every few months. random charges. late penalties. service increases you never agreed to. and no matter how many hours you work or how much sleep you lose, it never seems to be enough. you thought you were managing. thought maybe you were finally getting ahead, even just a little. but here it is—proof that you’re still drowning.

nari places the letter back down and moves to stand beside you. she doesn’t speak right away. her eyes flick toward you, soft with concern. she’s been your roommate for over a year now—someone you met through a shared thread on social media venting about overpriced meal plans and the bullshit cost of dorm laundry. back then, you were both strangers trying to navigate the mess of college life with nothing but broken bank accounts and coffee-stained syllabi.

now, she feels like family.

you’ve always admired how gentle she is, how thoughtful. she worries without smothering, helps without asking, gives even when she barely has enough for herself. you hate how easily she sees through you.

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” she says gently. “let me help. i mean it. just this once.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. you’ve had this conversation before. more than once. every time the bills show up with too many zeroes or your bank app sends another low balance alert, she offers. she always offers. and you always refuse.

because this is your responsibility. your education. your choice.

you never wanted to drag her into the mess you made just trying to survive.

“nari, no. it’s fine,” you say, brushing it off the same way you always do, even though nothing about this feels fine. “i’ll figure it out. i’ll… find another job or something.”

another job. the words sound ridiculous even as they leave your mouth. you’re already balancing two. your body aches at the thought of adding a third, your schedule stretched so thin it feels like one missed alarm could unravel everything.

nari doesn’t argue. she just stands there, looking at you with wide, worried eyes that say more than her words ever could.

you turn away.

you don’t want to see that look. don’t want to see the guilt in her expression or the way her lips part like she’s about to say something she knows you won’t let her finish. instead, you press your palms flat to the cool countertop and try to slow your breathing.

you can’t keep doing this. living check to check. sacrificing sleep, time, your sanity—only to still come up short.

“let me help find you one, y/n. at least let me do that…” her voice was quiet but firm, laced with the kind of gentle urgency that made it hard to ignore. she pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down beside you, her knees bumping yours softly as she reached for your hands.

her fingers curled around yours without hesitation—warm, grounding, comforting in a way that made your chest ache.

“you’ll get out of this before you know it,” she said, her thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “just hang on a little longer.”

the words should’ve felt like encouragement. to someone else, maybe they would have. but to you, they barely registered. her voice echoed distantly in your ears, dulled by the weight pressing down on your shoulders. you wanted to believe her. you really did. but there was only so much hope could do when your brain felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

you were tired.

not just physically—though that part never seemed to go away—but mentally, emotionally, in a way that left you hollow at the edges. your thoughts were messy. loud. overwhelmed with numbers and due dates and rejection emails you didn’t have the energy to open.

you’d always wanted more for yourself. a degree. a real future. stability. success. the version of adulthood that didn’t involve counting coins at the bottom of your purse to buy groceries. being able to chase something you loved without sacrificing everything just to survive.

and yet… here you were. still stuck. still drowning.

“i’ll talk to my friends,” nari added, her voice picking up as she stood again. “i’ll ask around, see if any of their jobs are hiring. you don’t have to do this alone, okay?”

you blinked up at her, too tired to protest, too drained to offer anything back. you barely nodded.

she didn’t wait for an answer. instead, she gently tugged you to your feet and led you toward your room, her hands guiding you like muscle memory.

“just hurry,” she said over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall. “get ready before you’re late.”

you let the door close behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space, and leaned back against it for a second too long—breathing in slow, like maybe it would help ease the burning behind your eyes.

but it didn’t.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

you can’t hear yourself think anymore. the noise presses in from every direction—muffled conversation, the beep of the register, shoes skidding across tile, the mechanical whirring of the blender as it screams through another drink. the scent of syrup, espresso, and sweat mixes into something you’re far too familiar with by now. it clings to your clothes, seeps into your hair, follows you home every night and lingers even after you’ve scrubbed your skin raw.

your apron feels too tight around your waist. the name tag keeps flipping over, catching on your shirt. your hands ache from repetition. your back stings from bending, twisting, reaching for things without stopping. your legs burn, but you keep standing. because if you stop—just for a second—you don’t know if you’ll start again.

you’ve lost count of how many customers you’ve helped. they blur together—faces that don’t really look at you, names that repeat too often, voices that never say please. someone spilled a drink ten minutes ago and just stared at you like it was your fault. someone else snapped when you misunderstood their order and then smiled like it never happened. you’re used to it. too used to it.

the blender screams again, and you find yourself zoning out, eyes on the flashing light of the machine, ears ringing. you place a sweaty cup down on the counter just as your coworker brushes past you, muttering something, her voice barely registers.

“we’re out of cold brew, can you let the manager know?” she says, breathless.

you nod without thinking and duck into the back, weaving past crates of milk and mop buckets that haven’t been moved since your last shift. you find her—your manager—hovering near the inventory shelf, tablet in hand, expression unreadable. she looks up when she hears you but doesn’t say anything. just waits.

“we’re out of cold brew again,” you say softly.

her sigh is immediate. clipped. already annoyed. “i told the morning crew to prep more.”

“they didn’t,” you reply, just as soft.

she exhales again and gives you a glance that feels like a warning. “make a new batch. and try to keep the line moving—we’re backed up out there.”

you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot, unsure if now’s a good time. but you don’t have a choice. not really.

“hey,” you begin, voice lighter than you feel, “i was wondering… if you had any extra shifts next week? i could take one. or two. anything that opens up, i’ll take it.”

you see it the moment her expression changes. not enough to be obvious, but enough that you feel it in your gut. she blinks at you once, slow. “you already have four shifts on the schedule.”

“i know,” you say quickly. “i just… if anyone drops or calls out—”

“i’ll let you know if something comes up,” she interrupts, sharper now. “but we’re fully staffed right now. you’re already lucky to have the hours you do.”

lucky.

that one stings.

you nod like it doesn’t bother you. “okay. thanks anyway.”

you turn back toward the front before she can see the heat crawl up your neck. the shame, the frustration, the quiet burn of helplessness that never seems to leave you alone. it coils tight in your chest as you slide back behind the counter, the overwhelming noise greeting you like a wave to the face.

you move through the orders on autopilot—pour, cap, swipe, pass. your body knows the motions. it always does. even when your brain doesn’t catch up. your arms are heavy. your thoughts are too loud.

your phone buzzes in your apron pocket.

technically, you’re not supposed to check it during a shift. but you do anyway, slipping your hand inside just enough to pull it out, eyes flicking to the screen beneath the counter.

nari: i have something to tell you.

you pause.

your breath catches in your throat.

the message is short. way too short. there are no emojis, no dramatics, no little additions she usually throws in to make you laugh. it’s clean. intentional. unsettling.

you type back fast.

you okay? what’s up?

your fingers hover over the screen, waiting. no immediate reply. no typing bubbles. just silence.

you slip your phone back into your apron, heart racing now—not from caffeine or exhaustion but from something else. dread, maybe. anxiety. it curls low in your stomach and spreads like smoke, slow and sickly.

the hours bleed together until they don’t feel real anymore. it’s like you blinked and suddenly the sky was dark, the register was silent, and your shift was over. you don’t even remember clocking out. your body moves on instinct as you grab your things, slinging your bag over one shoulder, feet dragging slightly with every step. you’re too tired to even complain out loud. exhaustion sits heavy on your shoulders, weighing down every bone like bricks. every joint aches. your eyes sting from the fluorescent lights. your muscles are tight, sore, stretched too far. and the worst part is knowing you’ll have to do it all again tomorrow.

the walk home is a blur. you barely register the passing cars or the hum of traffic. your legs are on autopilot, your thoughts too noisy to settle into anything coherent. by the time you reach your building, your fingers fumble with the key from how badly they’re shaking—whether from fatigue or stress, you’re not sure.

the moment the front door swings open, you’re greeted by a sudden, high-pitched sound that makes you flinch.

“oh my god, y/n!”

nari’s voice rings out before you even step fully inside. she appears from around the corner, practically bouncing on her feet as she rushes toward you with wide eyes and a wild grin.

“i think i’ve secured something for you!” she announces proudly, reaching to help you with your things without waiting for permission. your bag slides off your shoulder with her help, and she carefully sets it down on the couch before turning to face you again.

you blink at her, too tired to match her energy, voice low and worn. “how so?”

the contrast between your tone and hers is stark—hers bright and excited, yours soft, raspy, touched with exhaustion that even you can hear.

“okay, so,” she starts, already walking toward the kitchen like she’s been waiting all day to spill this. “i was talking to one of my classmates earlier—casual stuff, whatever—and she would not shut up about this app she’s using and this guy she’s obsessed with on it.”

you follow her slowly, the smell of something warm and savory pulling you forward. dinner is already set out, steam curling up from the bowls on the counter. she’s cooked again. you don’t even have the energy to thank her properly, but it sits in your chest like a quiet comfort.

“she said it’s this platform where you can post content—videos, mostly—and people follow you, tip you, subscribe to see more. apparently, it’s easy money if you know how to catch attention,” nari continues, grabbing utensils and placing them gently next to your bowl.

you lean against the counter, brows slightly furrowed as you try to keep up.

“what kind of videos?” you ask slowly.

and that’s when she pauses.

her hands still for a second, and you notice the subtle way her eyes flick to the side—toward the fridge, the floor, anywhere but you. she busies herself wiping down a clean countertop, her mouth tight, like she’s carefully choosing what not to say.

the silence stretches just a little too long.

you narrow your eyes. “nari?”

she still doesn’t look at you, her fingers now fiddling with the corner of a napkin that doesn’t need adjusting.

and that’s when you know—whatever she’s about to suggest, it’s not exactly a regular part-time job.

you don’t say anything. not at first.

you just watch her fidget—her hands smoothing the same wrinkle over and over again, her mouth parting like she wants to say something but can’t figure out where to start. her excitement from earlier has dimmed slightly, not completely gone, just… more careful now. the shift is subtle but it’s there, and you feel it tighten something in your chest.

your voice is quieter this time. gentler. “what kind of videos, nari?”

she glances up at you for a split second, then looks away again, reaching to stir a pot that isn’t even on the stove. she’s stalling.

finally, she exhales, turning back to you with both palms pressed to the counter.

“okay, so… don’t freak out.”

you stare at her.

“it’s… kind of a subscription thing,” she says, slow and cautious. “like, you post content—just whatever you’re comfortable with—and people tip you for it. sometimes a lot.”

you don’t speak. not yet. you just let her keep going.

“my classmate told me she made almost five hundred dollars in one weekend. literally just from one post. and this guy she follows? apparently he makes thousands. like, thousands. maybe even millions.”

your mouth is dry.

“what kind of content?” you repeat, even though you already know the answer.

nari bites her lip. her eyes finally meet yours. “sexy stuff,” she admits. “but it doesn’t have to be all out. it can be suggestive. artistic. faceless, even.”

you blink at her. once. twice.

the silence between you stretches until it’s not silence anymore—it’s tension. thick and heavy, sitting right in the center of the kitchen with both of you tiptoeing around it.

“it’s not as intense as it sounds,” she adds quickly. “she said she started small. built her page up over time. and no one from school found out. not even her roommates.”you sink into one of the kitchen chairs, your arms resting limply in your lap. you don’t say anything yet. you’re not even sure what you feel.

nari’s eyes soften as she watches you. “i know it sounds… out there. but i just thought—i don’t know, maybe it’s something you could look into. just to hold you over until things get better.”

you nod, but it’s slow. not agreement—just acknowledgment.

you’re too tired to argue. too drained to pretend the idea isn’t already crawling under your skin, planting itself somewhere dangerous.

because the truth is, you’ve heard of it. everyone has. whispered about in late-night dorm conversations, on private stories, in anonymous confessions posted on spam accounts. girls making rent money in a weekend. boys going viral for being faceless and filthy and addictive.

you never imagined doing it yourself.

but then again… you never imagined being this broke, either.

you stare at your untouched bowl of food, heart thudding softly in your chest.

you’re not disgusted. not even shocked.

you’re just… thinking.

and that scares you more than anything else.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

you tell yourself you’re just looking.

that’s it.

just a little more scrolling. just a few more profiles. you’re not doing anything. you haven’t made an account. you haven’t posted. you haven’t committed to anything except curiosity, and that—well, that’s harmless, right?

you open your laptop again. it’s sometime past midnight. your room is dim, the only light coming from your screen and the soft amber glow of the lamp tucked in the corner of your desk. it casts everything in that moody, late-night hue that makes the whole world feel quieter. heavier.

you pull your knees up to your chest, the blanket draped loosely over your shoulders as the homepage loads. it’s different now. you’re not looking aimlessly anymore. you know what to search for. you type top creators, and a list appears almost instantly.

you click one.

@heefreakshow. verified. 5.2 million subscribers.

his profile loads, and it’s exactly what you expect. polished, but not too polished. his display photo is somewhat dark and grainy, a half-lit frame of his bare chest, chin tilted up just enough to be teasing without giving anything away. the banner across the top reads: “i don’t just talk dirty. i make you feel it.”

his content is locked, but the previews aren’t.

you hover for a moment, your thumb pausing above one of the thumbnails before tapping it without thinking. the video opens in a small window, looped, muted at first, but it doesn’t matter—what pulls you in is the way he fills the frame. it starts with a soft hum of music, low and bassy, vibrating faintly through your speakers as the camera tilts upward from a dark-lit bed.

his chest appears first—broad, smooth, glowing faintly under the moody blue light. he’s shirtless, his skin flushed, breathing slow but deep. the camera dips, revealing his thighs spread wide and relaxed, and the hard, unmistakable bulge straining through his pants. your breath catches. the fabric looks tight—too tight—like it’s fighting to contain him. you can almost feel the pressure through the screen.

his hands trail over his torso, slow and lazy, fingers dragging along the curves of his stomach, tracing the line of muscle before resting on the waistband of his pants. his face isn’t fully visible—just the faintest shadow of his jaw, a teasing sliver of his bottom lip. the only thing clearly captured is his hair: pink, messy, soft-looking and slightly damp, like he’s just run his hands through it too many times.

and then he moves.

his fingers slip down, unbuttoning his pants with quick, practiced ease. the zipper lowers with a soft click, and he pushes the fabric down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard, tip flushed and leaking as it rests against his abdomen. his breath stutters slightly, chest rising as he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slow—deliberate, like he’s savoring it. he tilts his hips toward the camera, giving you a better view, and you swear he’s looking straight at you even though you can’t see his eyes.

his voice comes in a beat later—low, raspy, thick with arousal.

“i couldn’t help myself, baby…”

you feel something warm twist in your stomach. the words feel too direct, too personal. his pace quickens as precum beads at the tip, slicking over his fingers as he groans, deep and breathy, like it’s pulled straight from his chest.

his other hand rises, trailing over his stomach until it reaches his chest, fingers pinching at one nipple as his hips twitch upward. the reaction is instant—a quiet moan spilling from his mouth as his head tilts back slightly, lips parted in pleasure.

“fuck…” he breathes out, barely audible between sharp inhales. “i want you here with me, baby…”

you freeze, the weight of the moment crawling down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

you scroll down to the next name on the list.

@jayafterhours. verified. 5.3 million subscribers.

his banner is simple—black background, sharp white font. his bio reads: “don’t waste my time unless you can take it.”

you don’t hesitate. you click.

the video loads instantly, and the difference between him and the last profile is immediate. there’s nothing soft about it. no slow lighting, no teasing buildup. it opens straight into a scene already mid-motion—loud moans echoing through your speakers, fast and desperate, though none of them are coming from him.

the camera is perfectly framed, clearly placed on a desk, angled to capture everything without obstruction. a woman lies flat on her front, arms outstretched as her fingers curl over the edge of the wood. her legs tremble slightly, back arched, skin damp with sweat. behind her, jay moves with sharp, brutal rhythm—his hands gripping her hips like he owns them, fingers pressing deep into the flesh as he drives into her hard enough to rock the table beneath them.

“such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” he grits out, his voice low and full of gravel, each syllable landing like a slap.

his hand comes down suddenly to grip her ass, squeezing tight before delivering a sharp slap that makes her body jolt. the sound of skin meeting skin cracks through the room. she lets out a choked moan, broken and messy.

“d-don’t stop—j-jay!” she cries, voice high, shaking as her nails drag along the desk surface for something to hold on to.

but you barely register her.

your eyes stay on him.

he doesn’t look at the camera—not directly—but the angle captures enough. his head is tilted back slightly, the veins in his neck prominent, his jaw clenched. his lips are caught between his teeth, biting down like he’s holding something back. there’s a faint flush along his collarbone, sweat trailing down the side of his throat.

he isn’t shirtless.

somehow, that makes it worse.

he’s dressed in a crisp white button-down, slightly wrinkled now, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. a black tie hangs loosely around his neck, the knot crooked like it was tugged halfway through the scene. it swings gently with the movement of his hips, adding to the rhythm, the sound, the image of him fully in control without even needing to try.

there’s something terrifyingly composed about him. like he’s done this a thousand times. like nothing surprises him anymore. like the entire scene is unfolding exactly how he planned it.

and yet, despite the chaos, the noise, the cries echoing off the walls—you can’t stop looking at him.

you don’t hesitate when your eyes land on the next name.

@jakeoncam. verified. 5.5 million subscribers.

simple bio: “i like being watched.”

your heart skips slightly as you click on the preview, already familiar with the routine by now. and yet, nothing about this feels repetitive—each creator you've looked at so far has had their own way of pulling you in, but jake’s feels… different.

the screen fades in slowly, no music, no buildup. just the soft creak of bedsheets and the low, wet sound of friction. he’s fully on display, his body stretched across a dark comforter, shirtless, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. the camera is placed at a low angle, perfectly capturing the curve of his back as he grinds down onto a pillow with messy, desperate rhythm.

his blonde hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, a few pieces plastered to his cheek. his eyes are shut tight, brows drawn in deep concentration, lips parted as he pants softly into the mattress. his hips roll in tight, fluid motions, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he presses himself down harder into the cushion.

“fuck… i’m gonna cum… fuck, baby…”

his voice is breathless—higher, whinier than the others—and it hits you unexpectedly. it’s not performance. it sounds real. wrecked. like he’s been holding back for too long and is just now letting go.

he gasps softly, his pace stuttering, body tensing as the pressure builds—but the clip cuts off just before the release, leaving you blinking at your screen with your chest tight and your legs shifting.

you don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until it escapes you all at once.

and you don’t stop there.

you move onto the next one almost instinctively, driven more by something primal now. not even out of curiosity anymore—need. something about each of them feels increasingly personal, like they’re not just performers, but something else. something closer.

@hoononrepeat. verified. 5.3 million subscribers. “if it’s not messy, i don’t want it.”

you click, the motion smooth and practiced now. part of you knows you’re getting too deep, that this is becoming more than just research, but you don’t stop.

his video starts mid-motion.

the frame is tight, focused completely on him—sunghoon’s hand gripping his cock, already soaked and shining with cum, sliding along the length with slow, deliberate strokes. his chest is heaving, his abs flexing with each movement. the lighting is dark, moody, barely enough to cast definition over his frame, and yet it still highlights every shift of muscle.

a silhouette appears at the bottom of the screen—a woman, faceless, mouth parted and positioned perfectly beneath him. her head bobs forward as he pushes his cock into her mouth without hesitation.

he groans, long and drawn out, his voice rough like it’s scraped from the bottom of his throat.

“fucking hell…”

his hand buries in her hair, fingers curling tight as he guides her down, hips jerking forward sharply. the wet sound of it echoes faintly, almost drowned out by his ragged breathing. she gags softly, hands pressing at his thighs, but he doesn’t let up.

he’s focused. lost. unrelenting.

“take it,” he mutters, jaw clenched. “take all of it, princess…”

the words hit hard. not because of what he says, but how he says it—low, commanding, almost personal. like he knows you’re watching. like the words aren’t meant for her at all.

you feel your pulse thud somewhere low in your stomach. your fingers curl tighter around the edge of your laptop.

you should stop.

but you don’t.

@watchmesunoo. verified. 5.4 million subscribers.

his page is simple—light pastel banner, soft text, almost misleading at first glance. but when the preview loads, there’s nothing soft about it. it starts mid-action, no intro, no setup—just raw, unfiltered need. his body fills the screen, the lighting harsh enough to highlight the tension in his muscles, the sweat slicking down his chest in messy trails.

his hand holds a small vibrator—slim, silver, and humming at a steady pace as he presses it along the length of his cock. it’s already hard, flushed dark and leaking, twitching visibly each time the buzzing toy runs over his slit. he slides it slowly, teasingly, from the base to the tip, circling it around the head before dragging it back down again. his hips jerk, his thighs tightening under the pressure.

his face is in view. fully.

his cheeks are red, tear-streaked, lips trembling with every breath. wet hair clings to his forehead in dark strands, and his eyes are glassy—shiny with desperation, the kind that makes your chest tighten just watching. he looks completely wrecked. beautiful in a way that shouldn’t feel this intimate, like you’ve caught him in something far too private.

“fuck… noona…” he whines, voice high and broken as his fingers curl tight around the bed sheets. “let me cum… please—noona…”

his hand trembles slightly as he lowers the vibrator, pressing it to the base of his cock as his other hand slides upward, two fingers dragging through the mess that’s already smeared across the head. he rubs the tip quickly, desperately, almost like he’s punishing himself for how close he is. his back arches sharply, the line of his throat exposed, jaw slack as more tears spill freely down his cheeks.

“f-fuckkk—i’m cumming!” he cries out, voice cracking as his body jerks violently, hips lifting off the mattress.

you can’t look away.

his cock twitches hard in his hand, and a thick wave of cum spills over his fingers, dripping down in messy strands that coat his palm and smear over his abdomen. his chest heaves. his thighs shake. he doesn’t stop moving until his hand is completely soaked and his voice has faded into soft, hiccuping breaths.

you’re still staring, eyes wide, mouth parted slightly. the screen is glowing in the dark of your room, and all you can do is sit there, frozen, pulse pounding behind your ribs as the clip loops quietly again.

@wonsodirty. verified. 5.2 million subscribers.

his profile surprises you even more.

the name alone already catches your eye—bold, a little cheeky, a little misleading. you expect something bratty, maybe cocky, something playful or reckless. but when the preview loads, it’s none of that.

it’s quiet. intimate.

the camera is placed at a low angle, steady, fixed on soft bedsheets that shift with every subtle movement. the lighting is warm and dim, the kind that wraps everything in a golden hue and makes skin look like silk. there’s a soft rustling in the background, the sound of him breathing, uneven and slightly hitched.

he comes into frame slowly—first his legs, then his thighs, spread slightly apart as he settles against the headboard. he’s not doing much at first. just breathing. just existing. but even that feels heavy with tension, like something just below the surface is about to break.

he’s shirtless. not in a performative way. just bare. his chest rises and falls in shallow motions, skin flushed with heat, the faintest sheen of sweat glinting under the soft light. his hand moves slowly at first, fingers wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking with careful precision. it’s already hard, already leaking at the tip, the kind of arousal that’s been building for far too long.

you watch as he closes his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip, his brows knitting together like he’s trying not to fall apart too quickly.

then, he whispers something—so soft you almost miss it.

“feels so good…”

his voice is high, sweet, breathy in the most fragile way. and it’s real. not loud. not dirty. just pure and cracked with something raw.

his strokes stay slow, almost too slow, like he’s punishing himself for how sensitive he is. his hips twitch every time he passes over the tip, precum smearing down the shaft and making his hand glisten as he continues.

you can’t help but watch his face—how red his ears are, how hard he’s trying to keep his composure. you notice how his legs tense, thighs flexing every time he lets out one of those quiet, needy sounds.

his strokes get faster, hips starting to lift slightly off the bed, his thighs trembling beneath him. he looks like he’s trying to hold back. like he’s afraid of what’ll happen if he lets go too soon.

“i can’t… i c-can’t hold it, please…”

he cries out as his hand jerks up once, twice, and then his entire body stutters. his back arches just slightly, his mouth dropping open in a silent gasp as ropes of cum spill over his fist, painting across his stomach in messy spurts.

his breathing turns shaky. his head tilts back against the pillow, eyes fluttering, lips parted as a tiny, breathless whimper escapes him.

the clip ends with his fingers still curled tightly around himself, his chest rising fast, his body twitching as he comes down—wrecked and glowing and silent.

you move onto the last profile.

@nikiuncensored. verified. 5.6 million subscribers.

the name alone already tells you everything you need to know. it feels reckless. raw. unapologetically bold in a way that makes your pulse skip without warning. you hesitate only for a second before clicking on the preview.

the video starts without ceremony—no soft intro, no teasing buildup. just action. the camera is low, placed somewhere near the base of the woman’s stomach. you can’t see her face, not even her chest—just the lower curve of her abdomen rising and falling with every sharp breath she takes. her thighs tremble faintly at the edges of the frame, knees slightly parted, twitching every time his mouth presses in.

but she’s the background.

your eyes go straight to him.

ni-ki comes into view slowly—his shoulders first, broad and tense, then his head, tipped slightly as his mouth lowers between her legs. his tongue flicks upward in tight, rhythmic strokes, wet and steady, circling over the clit with agonizing precision. the movement is deliberate. practiced. his lips part to suck softly, then flatten again as he switches pace, building her up in waves.

his fingers move with the same energy—two of them disappearing inside her only to pull out again, slick and glistening before they’re thrust back in with a soft squelch that echoes in the low hum of the room. the air is heavy. the lighting is dim, warm enough to cast shadows over the sharp line of his jaw, the flushed curve of his cheeks.

“fuck…” he breathes, voice strained with something between amusement and awe, “you’re so fucking wet…”

he groans as he presses in harder, his mouth practically consuming her now, lips wrapped fully around her clit as he sucks with loud, messy slurps. the sound is obscene, echoing in the quiet room—wet and desperate and hungry.

his eyes flutter shut, like he’s savoring the taste. like he could stay there all night and never come up for air. his free hand curls around the outside of her thigh, gripping tight, keeping her in place as his tongue works mercilessly. her moans are loud, cracked and high-pitched, but you barely register them. all you can hear is him—groaning, gasping, devouring.

he moves his head side to side slightly, mouth still latched to her clit, and the slurping sound becomes louder, wetter. his fingers curl up inside her and she screams, hips jerking toward his face, but he doesn’t back off. if anything, he doubles down.

he growls, low in his throat, sending vibrations straight into her core as his grip tightens.

and you’re stuck there—watching the way his mouth works, the way his muscles flex with every movement, the way he loses himself in it like it’s the only thing that matters.

the preview cuts off just as his lips part again, tongue dragging in a long, slow lick up her slit like he’s far from done.

and god—you believe it.

you’re completely breathless.

your chest rises and falls in slow, uneven waves, lungs struggling to catch up with the flood of emotions coursing through your system. your skin is warm, flushed, your fingers twitching faintly from where they rest on your thighs. everything inside you feels electric. overstimulated. wired with something you can’t quite name—but it’s there.

now, finally, you understand.

you understand why this app—the one you opened on a whim—could stir something so heavy inside you. why it’s been sitting in the back of your mind like a spark waiting for oxygen. it’s not just sex. it’s not just content. it’s control. attention. power.

you shift slightly where you sit, the damp heat between your thighs impossible to ignore. your panties are soaked, your breath shallow, and despite the way your body aches, you force yourself to sit up straighter. you push the thoughts down, shake your head, blink yourself back into focus.

you’ve battled with yourself long enough.

without giving yourself the space to overthink it, your finger moves. you press the button—create account—and watch the screen change, your heart racing with each small confirmation box that pops up in front of you.

you type quickly. no hesitation now. @babydollxo.

the name feels soft. flirty. safe.

but the next part isn’t so easy.

you hesitate when it asks for a profile photo. you scroll through your gallery—old pictures, half-deleted mirror selfies, nothing that feels right. nothing that says what you want it to say. nothing that matches the version of yourself you’re about to become.

you toss your phone onto the bed and push off the covers, the sheets falling away from your legs in soft folds as you rise to your feet. your room is still quiet, dimly lit by the lamp in the corner, casting soft golden shadows across your walls.

you move quickly.

your drawer slides open with a soft clatter as you dig through the scattered mess inside—tangled bras, folded shorts, tucked-away lace. your fingers pause when they find it: a tiny, black thong. the skimpiest one you own. barely fabric at all.

you strip out of your shirt first, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. the cool air hits your bare chest, making your nipples pebble instantly. there’s no hesitation now. no shame. just movement.

you tug the thong on slowly, adjusting it at your hips, letting the waistband hug your curves as you step in front of the mirror.

you pose without overthinking it—back facing the mirror, head turned slightly over your shoulder, your front angled just enough to tease without revealing everything. the lighting does the rest. it casts your silhouette in soft shadows, highlighting the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your hips. everything else remains hidden—blurred in the low glow of the lamp.

it’s just enough to make someone want more.

you lift your phone, frame the shot, and for the first time in a long time…you feel powerful.

you set your phone carefully on the edge of your desk, adjusting the angle until it captures only what you want it to—the lower half of your body, your thighs parted slightly, your stomach rising with shallow breaths. your face is out of view. there’s no light beyond the soft glow of your desk lamp, and the shadows cast across your skin make everything look muted, quiet, secretive.

your thumb hovers over the record button, trembling slightly. you're not nervous because you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re nervous because you do.

your mind is cluttered with noise. doubt swims through you in thick waves, crashing hard against the edges of your resolve. your chest feels tight. you can feel the fear circling in your gut, whispering things like what if you regret it? what if someone finds out? what if you can't take it back?

but the fear isn't loud enough to drown out the truth.

you think of the letter on the counter, the rent due in less than a week, the account notifications warning you that your balance is low—too low. you think of the long shifts, the missed hours, the denial from your manager. you think about how you’re out of options.

and then you press the button.

the recording begins. the red icon glows faintly in the corner of your screen. it’s happening now. you’ve officially started.

your breath catches as your hands move instinctively, dragging down the curve of your stomach with a slow, deliberate rhythm. you let your fingers tease the hem of your thong, playing with the waistband, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back into place. you don’t say a word. there’s no script for this. you let the action speak for itself.

you shift in your seat, angling your body just enough for the camera to catch the soft curve of your ass, arching your back to deepen the shadow and leave the details to the imagination. it’s subtle. sensual. controlled.

then, after a pause that makes your heart pound harder, you bring your fingers to the front of your thong. with one smooth motion, you pull the fabric aside.

just enough to reveal yourself.

your folds glisten, slick already gathered between them from the buildup of watching, waiting, and wanting all night. you’d been trying to ignore it. trying to focus on the mechanics of the process. but your body never really forgot. not after what you’d seen. not after the way they sounded.

your fingers move without hesitation now, sliding between your folds and gathering the wetness. you exhale slowly, letting the feeling settle, letting the camera keep rolling. your touch is gentle at first—small, slow circles around your clit, nothing too fast. you don’t want to rush. you want it to look natural. sensual. you want it to feel good.

and it does.

your body shifts. your back arches slightly. your thighs tense. your fingers grow bolder, faster. not by much—just enough to feel it start to build. your breathing grows uneven. soft, audible. you hold back the sound in your throat, biting your lip hard enough to feel the pressure.

and then you think of them.

the teasing smirk from the one who never broke eye contact. the groans that scraped low and rough from behind clenched teeth. the soft, desperate whimpers that bled through clenched fists and sweat-slick sheets. the sharp snap of a hand against skin. the steady rhythm of fingers soaked to the knuckle.

you remember the flushed cheeks. the breathless pleas. the soaked mouth of someone who looked ruined just from giving. the thighs that trembled under the weight of restraint. the tongue that moved with unshakable precision, curling into someone’s heat like it was instinct—like it was art.

your fingers speed up.

your hips jerk slightly, your body reacting without permission. you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut as your clit pulses beneath your touch.

“fuck…”

the word leaves you in a low, broken whisper. it’s almost inaudible. almost too quiet to catch. but it’s there.

your chest rises with effort as you force yourself to stay quiet—to stay in control. nari is just a few feet away, asleep or scrolling in the room next door. you can’t let her hear. you can’t risk that. so you press your lips together tightly and breathe through your nose, letting your hand do the talking.

your fingers move in tighter circles. your stomach contracts. your legs pull in slightly as the pleasure curls deeper inside you, hot and electric. you don’t stop. you can’t stop. not now.

you don’t need to speak. the way your body moves is enough.

the video keeps recording, and for a second, everything else disappears—your exhaustion, your guilt, your fear. all of it fades into the rhythm of your own breathing, the slick sound of your fingers working between your thighs, and the realization that this isn’t just a performance.

it’s power.

and for the first time in a long time… it’s yours.

your fingers work faster now, soaked and steady, slipping in and out of your cunt with a rhythm that’s grown almost frantic. the sound of it—slick, wet, obscene—echoes low in the quiet room, barely masked by the rapid stutter of your breath. your body moves with instinct, hips rising to meet your hand, legs spread wide as you chase the heat that’s been coiling deep in your core since the moment the video started.

you start with two fingers, curling them up just right to press against the spot that makes your stomach tighten. your lips press into a thin, trembling line as you try to keep quiet, forcing yourself to muffle the moans that threaten to spill out with every thrust. your walls clench tightly around your fingers, greedy, hot, desperate for more.

and you give it to yourself.

you let out a ragged breath as you push in a third finger, the stretch making your thighs tremble. the pressure is overwhelming now—blinding, almost painful in the best possible way. you shift in your chair, back arching as you press your heels into the floor, legs falling open wider to give yourself more space. your body is flushed and burning, skin damp with sweat, nipples tight from the brush of cool air and lingering adrenaline.

your chest heaves as you move faster, harder, fingers curling deep into yourself as the pleasure builds fast and sharp like a scream stuck in your throat. your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, and for a split second, you forget about the camera. you forget about the fear. you forget about everything but the feeling—

“fuck… oh my god…”

the words tear from your throat, broken and low, muffled by the force of your own clenched jaw. your legs start to shake, your body twitching with the effort to stay upright as your orgasm rushes up and crashes through you.

“fuckkk—i’m gonna cum… shit…”

your voice is higher now, cracked at the edges, as your hips jerk forward and your muscles seize. the pressure bursts all at once, your cunt clenching around your fingers as you gush hard, soaking your hand and the inside of your thighs. the release is hot, messy, completely overwhelming—wave after wave rolling through your body until you’re panting, twitching, slumped over the desk with your mouth open in a silent gasp.

your other hand scrambles toward your phone, shaking as you fumble to tap the screen. the camera is still recording—still capturing every shudder, every twitch, the flushed glow of your skin and the shine slicked over your thighs.

you end the video with one shaky movement, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

your hand is drenched. your skin is burning. your thoughts are scrambled.

and you don’t hesitate.

you upload it raw, unfiltered, untouched.

you don’t trim the edges. you don’t add a caption. you don’t even blink before pressing the button.

you want it to speak for itself.

you want them to wonder.

you watch the screen as the upload bar slowly completes, your profile still blank, still new, still waiting to be discovered.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

the soft chirp of birds cuts through the stillness of morning, gentle and rhythmic, floating in through the cracks of your half-open window. golden sunlight pours across your sheets, casting long shadows along your floor, warm and soft against your bare legs. your body is sprawled out lazily across the mattress, limbs tangled in the fabric as your eyes flutter open slowly, blinking away the blur of sleep.

your room is quiet except for the persistent buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand beside you. it hums every few seconds, faint but constant, like it's trying to get your attention. you glance at it, brows furrowing slightly, but you don’t reach for it. not yet. your body still feels heavy with sleep and something else—something deeper.

you push the covers off your legs, the cotton sheets rustling as you sit up and stretch, your spine arching with a soft crack. you move slowly, stepping onto the cool floorboards and making your way toward the bathroom, your legs stiff, your joints still waking up with you.

just as you reach the door, nari’s voice floats out from the hallway, warm and familiar.

“good morning, girl,” she calls casually, emerging from her room with a yawn, her hair tied up messily and hoodie falling off one shoulder. she looks at you for barely a second before launching into what’s clearly been sitting on her mind.

“so,” she says, tone direct, “are you planning on making an account?”

you pause.

the words land heavier than you expect, and for a second, the hallway feels too quiet—like her question has taken up all the space. the thought hadn’t left your mind, not really. it was still there, tucked into the corner of your chest like something that needed to be dealt with eventually. she had brought it up before. multiple times. her voice always hopeful. her offers always kind. and you always deflected.

your throat tightens. not painfully—but just enough to make you hesitate.

you turn to look at her, your expression unreadable. the memory of last night creeps back in, vivid and electric. the video. your fingers. the way your breath had caught in your throat when you hit upload. the warmth that still lingered between your thighs. the weight of what it meant.

“i’ll look into it,” you say, voice hoarse. “but i don’t know, nari… does it really even work?”

she crosses her arms gently, leaning her shoulder against the wall. her gaze softens as she watches you.

“i can’t really speak from experience,” she says slowly, “but from what i’ve heard… it’s definitely something you should consider. especially with how much you’ve been struggling. i know it’s not what you’re used to. i know it’s different. but y/n… it’s real money. quick money. and you wouldn’t have to break your back for it.”

her voice stays gentle, but her words hit hard. your shoulders drop slightly, and her eyes flick down to your expression, reading you the way only she can.

“just think about it, okay?” she continues, her tone still light. “i’m heading out in a bit, but whatever you decide, just let me know. i can look around for other stuff too, if you don’t want to go that route.”

your chest tightens again—this time from emotion.

you don’t say anything. you just step forward and wrap your arms around her, pulling her in tight. the words rise up in your throat before you can stop them.

“thank you so much, nari,” you whisper. “what the fuck would i have done without you…”

your voice cracks on the last word. you bury your face in her shoulder and hold her a little tighter, your body warm against hers.

you don’t thank her enough.

not for the rent reminders. not for the quiet way she pretends not to notice when you come home late and fall asleep in your work clothes. not for the soft leftovers she always leaves out with a sticky note. not for the way she never once judged you when you admitted you were coming up short again.

she just showed up. over and over.

and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“i’ll always be here for you, y/n,” she murmurs, her arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

when you finally pull back, there’s a single tear running down your cheek. you wipe it away quickly, hoping she doesn’t notice—but she does. she always does. she doesn’t say anything this time, just gives you a gentle look before stepping away.

you clear your throat, trying to shake the emotion from your voice.

“you can go ahead,” you tell her softly. “i… i just have something to check really quick.”

she nods, disappearing into her room.

you stand there for a moment, your feet unmoving, the silence returning like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. you exhale through your nose and turn around slowly, walking back into your room and closing the door behind you.

your phone is still buzzing on the nightstand.

and you’re finally ready to see what it has to say.

you close the door behind you and pause for a moment, letting your fingers linger against the wood. your room is quiet again, but it’s not the same kind of quiet as before. it’s weighted now—thicker, charged with something unspoken. your steps back to the bed feel heavier than they should. your body isn’t sore in the traditional sense, but there’s something beneath your skin that hasn’t left you since last night. like your muscles remember what you did. like your skin is still humming from the heat of it.

you sit on the edge of your bed, your blanket half-pulled down, the air cool against your bare legs. your phone is where you left it—face down on your nightstand, completely still. the buzzing that had filled the room earlier has stopped, like it’s holding its breath. waiting for you to be ready.

you reach for it slowly, with both hands, like you’re afraid you’ll drop it if you don’t steady yourself. the moment your fingertips brush across the screen, it lights up.

and everything changes.

1,462 new notifications. tips: +$1,951.76. new subscribers: +863.

you sit there, frozen, as the likes roll in by the second, stacking in waves across the screen. every few seconds, another tip comes in. ten dollars. twenty. fifty. a hundred. your balance is growing so fast it doesn’t feel real.

you open the comments, and the words hit you all at once.

“this is art. actual art.” “i’m obsessed.” “i came without even touching myself. that’s how real this felt.”

you read them with wide eyes, your thumb scrolling slowly, like dragging through honey. it’s too much to take in all at once. too many voices. too many people who’ve seen you now—really seen you—and want more.

you click over to your inbox. there are dozens of messages, all timestamped from the early hours of the morning. most of them are praises, offers, begging. a few are bold. graphic. unfiltered. and buried among them—at the very top, a verified profile—is the one that makes your entire body still.

@heefreakshow.

you’re completely taken off guard.

nothing could have prepared you for this—none of it. not the flood of attention. not the numbers still rising. and especially not him. not the quiet, effortless way one of the creators you watched last night—half in awe, half with your hand buried between your thighs—has now turned his gaze on you. messaged you. noticed you.

you stare at the notification like it might disappear. like maybe your phone glitched and it’s not really him. your thumb hovers just inches above the message, heartbeat loud in your ears, the weight of everything that’s happened pressing down on your chest.

and then—before you can overthink it—you press.

the message expands across your screen in one clean, perfect line.

god, you were so fucking hot. why don’t you let me see what more you’re capable of doing?

you go still.

your throat tightens. your lips part, but no sound comes out. your entire body feels like it’s pulsing—heat rising from your neck, crawling down your spine, settling low in your stomach. your eyes read the words once. then again. then again.

you’re speechless.

not because it’s crude—though it is. not because it’s confident—because of course it is. but because it’s him.

you sit there, phone trembling slightly in your grip, and all you can think about is how none of this would’ve happened if nari hadn’t pushed you. if she hadn’t looked you in the eyes and told you she believed in you. if she hadn’t said the words you were too afraid to say out loud.

you owe her everything.

because now? now you’re more than okay. you’re not just surviving—you’re starting. you’re in it.

and you have absolutely no plans of stopping.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ first episode is done! honestly i'm excited to see how this will play out because a lot more is coming, i hope you all enjoyed!

#cina🌙: tbr list

3K notes · View notes

cinnamon-won · 3 months ago

Text

color coded ― l. hs

You were just browsing, looking at all of the various kinks and fantasies the great world wide web had to offer. It’s not like you intended to make an account on a specific website to meet someone. Really, you were just curious about what was behind the “only members can view this page” banner. What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be pulled into actually meeting one of the men behind said banner, or enjoying it so much that you’d like for him to hurt you more. or the one where you join a kink website and a specific dom’s profile catches your attention enough to actually meet him at a hotel and practically ignore your safe words bc man, he’s good.

minors dni !! | kindly leave feedback.

WORDCOUNT ― 8.7k

PAIRING ― heeseung x afab reader

CONTENT ― dom!heeseung, open minded sub!reader, smut, reader wants to explore her interests in kinks and finds the best person for the job

WARNINGS ― this is mildly cnc in some areas but reader does want it and there are safe words (colors) but she intentionally doesn’t use them. she’s having fun.

NOTE ― if you’ve read this before it’s bc i wrote it on @/ncteez for johnny ages ago! SHOUT OUT TO MY BELOVED PATREON BABES!! They voted that the member I revamp this for be Heeseung, so now everyone gets another Heeseung work from me :D

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― MONSTER COCK HEESEUNG AGENDA, reader is referred to as: “sweetheart”, "baby”, “dirty girl”, “pain slut”, and “plaything”, face fucking, bulge kink but like– via throat, choking, drooling, dirty talk, slapping, restraining, suffocation, degrading, praise, panty sucking, brief oral for the reader, teasing, short lived thigh fucking, cream pie, cock-drunk reader, biting, abuse of breasts, orgasm via nipple stimulation, clit abuse, hair pulling, fingering, overstimulation, Heeseung is kind of a sadist at times, unprotected sex, aftercare

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You joined this website out of curiosity, and you also messaged user SayPlease out of curiosity. You said please to him, you thanked him, you used all of those manners you grew up learning in a way that they were never intended for, and…well, it worked.

Truly, it was because you were curious and you had no intentions of actually doing it. You wanted to try out some fantasies in the safety of your own room, alone. You wanted to keep it under wraps and just see how your body reacts to the words and images the people on this website offer. You were expecting your body to react at least a little bit, but you weren’t expecting to have one of the best orgasms of your life guided by his words through a muffled speaker.

Heeseung knew you were new to this, he knew you were just exploring, and most of all, he knew he could control you. After all, you did so well during that first phone call. He’s truly not surprised that you were willing to meet with him in person after a short week or so of communicating.

All of them eventually want the same thing, you’re no different.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Pulling up to the hotel felt ill-fitting for you considering this isn’t something you’d normally do. No, of course not. Why would you go out and meet some random man you met on a fetish website? Why would you be wearing the prettiest panties you own in hopes to get some praise for them? Why would you have been the one to suggest meeting him in the midst of a sexting session where he sent you the most delicious image of his hand squeezing around his cock, texting that he knew you’d do a great job of choking it?

Why you, right? No one needs to know that answer. This is a private affair, one where only you and Heeseung know what’s going to happen. You’re nervous, based on how he speaks to you alone. You keep forgetting how new you are to all of this. Some rules you know are in place, but what about other things? Will he explain? Will he sit you down and make you sign a contract like what happened in that one book everyone was raving about?

The walk from your car to the room with dainty metal numbers screwed into the door felt like it took ages. You didn’t have a key, and you were a bit early for this meeting but the anxiety bubbling in your gut said that if you didn’t do this now, you’d probably have already been pulling out to drive home and pretend this never happened.

He was already behind that door though, and only when he starts opening it do you realize that never once have you seen his face. You’ve heard his voice, you’ve seen his body, but never his face. He, on the other hand, never saw you at all, he only heard you.

Is this how this type of thing usually goes down? Are appearances not part of the fun? Suddenly, you find yourself worried that he’s only going to be attractive from the neck down, which would ruin it for you, if you’re being honest.

On instinct you back away from the door, ready to run back to your car and delete your profile, block his number, and erase this endeavor from your memory but when he comes into view,, you find yourself freezing on the spot.

Messy dark hair, somewhat soft eyes, taller than you, pretty smile. This man looks exactly like a dom that would talk to you the way he already has. It doesn’t match the face you imagined on him though. Hardened eyes, a grimace on his lips, something along the lines of a person who probably carries themself as some type of cocky prick with a huge ego to match his cock. But no, this is what Heeseung looks like. He looks…soft, and almost compassionate if you’re reading his facial expression right.

He doesn’t say anything to you at first, he just watches your reaction to his face reveal all while he takes in what you look like for the first time. He liked the surprise of it all, not knowing what his next partner actually looks like until he’s about to have them on their knees. He’s had all sorts of partners fulfill his fantasy without the expectation that he would want them too, after all, it’s about the pleasure and not entirely the attraction in his mind. You, however, are incredibly attractive. What a perfect little pair of eyes to match that whining voice of yours that he’s heard so much of. He imagines how much better you’d look while crying..

“There she is.” He says warmly, stepping to the side and letting you into the room. “More beautiful than I could have hoped for.”

Already you’re blushing as you step into the room, deciding once and for all that, yeah, you’re doing this. His confidence in complimenting you matches the way he talked to you before, except now he’s in front of you and looking at you. It hits you straight in the stomach, even as you still try to comprehend his kind words versus the ones he growled through the speaker at you just days ago.

You’re silent as you take your shoes off and stand awkwardly in front of the made-up, plush, probably half-assed cleaned hotel bed.

“You’re nervous?” He chuckles out, locking the door behind him and walking over to casually sit on the bed. His legs fall open easily as he looks down at himself, then up at you through the messy fringe falling in front of his eyes. “You can still back out, you know.”

You shake your head, struggling not to make eye contact with him.

“Are there like–” You’re embarrassed by how nervous you are, unable to string together a sentence or try to keep this calm and casual.

“Hm? Go on, I’m not going to do anything until you’re sure you want it.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side and trailing his eyes up and down your body. He really can’t stop looking at you, hoping that you’ll let him have his way. The memory of how you sounded on the phone flooding his mind as he puts your face to the moaning voice over and over again. He remembers how wet you sounded, he could hear you fuck yourself so clearly.

“Rules. Are there any rules?”

Heeseung darts his eyes to the ceiling in thought. Right, he knows you’re new but– damn is he selfish.

“If you want rules, we can set them now. A safe word is good,” He pauses, reaching to grab at your hand to pull you next to him. “Sit.”

He says it politely, more like an offer than demand but you can’t see him as anything other than the dominant man you’d spoken to before. Even with a face that looks as soft as his right now.

Your stomach does flips as you obey, already feeling entirely dominated.

“Usually, a safe word is the only thing I set and it tends to help people learn their limits. I will stop if you say it.” He tries to explain, ultimately to leave limitations up to you during the act.

After all, since you’re so new, how would you even know what you don’t like anyway? Sure, some people in this community find Heeseung’s way of doing things shady at best, but he does communicate his preferred method first. He isn’t trying to trick you into doing something you don’t want to do, he just wants the freedom to let you explore all of the things that he likes.

“I’m not sure what rules are even meant to be set.” You explain, finally gaining enough composure to talk clearly now. “Don’t pee in my mouth?”

He nods in agreement with a roll of his eye, looking at you as if he is encouraging you to continue.

“What’s the safe word then?” You ask, unintentionally fiddling your fingers in a nervous way. You catch his eye watching you, and you note the way he does his best to calm you from any anxiety.

“Some people pick random words, but colors are usually a good way to go. Yellow for when you’re not sure, but I can keep going. Red for when I need to stop.”

“No green?” You ask.

“I mean, technically everything is green until you state otherwise, isn’t it?”

He’s right.

“Any other things that are a hard no?” He asks again, ruffling his hair through his fingers. “Fair warning, I will hit you, choke you, restrain you, among many other things,” he pauses and looks for your reaction. “unless you tell me now that you don’t want it.”

You look at him and how his soft features have hardened slightly with his tense jaw, your thoughts derailing again as you see the words coming from a mouth so plush and pretty.

“Is kissing allowed?” You ask, completely unrelated to his string of offered abuse.

“If you want to kiss me through all of this, and your mouth is available, sure, I don’t see why not.”

You nod, taking it all in. Yellow. Red. No piss (this time). You’re going to hurt, and you can kiss him.

“Okay.” You say in a small voice, looking away from him and down to your lap. “Can you start slow?”

“No.” Heeseung admits. He’s incredibly attracted to your nervousness, and even more attracted to the way your voice is already shaking despite not having touched you yet. God, you’re like a brand new canvas. “You have safe words, use them if it’s too much. I don’t ‘go slow’,” He adds, spreading his legs a bit more. “I do what I want, you do what I want, and maybe you’ll get what you want in return.”

There is no tone of politeness in his voice now, and you assume he switched fully into this persona the moment you muttered the word “okay.” More nervous now, you almost wonder if it’s too late to back out. Do you even want to? Because now you’re turning and you can see the way he’s looking back at you. You’re just exploring, and he’s right, you have safe words.

“Okay.” You say again against the anxiety in your belly, knowing that once it starts, that’s your chance to decide if your exploration was worth it.

Without warning, you hear the zipper of his jeans being pulled at, and before you know it his length is out and on display. He grips it much like he did in the photos he sent to you. Matching his body more to his face now, you stare at it. It’s much bigger in person, and more intimidating to imagine having inside of you. Not only is it long but it’s incredibly thick, part of you wonders if you could even fit it into your mouth at all.

“You mentioned being on birth control, right? And being tested as clean?” He asks, looking down at himself and then back at you to watch you slowly nod in an answer.

He basks in the way you stare, blinking at the way he’s gripping onto himself for you to see. But, like he said, he’s not going to start slow for you. With the brief discussion and questions out of the way, he’s going in full force.

“On the floor.” He nods his head to the space between his legs.

Your body takes you to the position between his legs without so much as a second thought. Your fingers instinctually land against the harsh fabric of his jeans as you attempt to prepare yourself, swallowing hard at the image of his cock towering before you.

“No, hands behind your back.” He guides you with a smile and watches the way you pull your hands back and put them right where he asked you to.

“Already so obedient? I knew you wouldn’t be hard to handle.”

You can’t tell if it’s a compliment or not, but it feels like it is because it sends a sense of pride through you. Does he like to fight for what he wants, or does he prefer having full control?

Heeseung releases the grip on his length and places his hand at the back of your head, slowly guiding your mouth to his balls, twitching a bit at the way you instantly have your tongue out to lick and taste wherever he guides you. That alone drives him wild, seeing as how you may be new to this whole submissive thing, but surely you know how to suck a man off, right?

“You barely even know me, look at you lapping away.” He teases as he watches you, a smirk against his lips while he guides your head up to the underside of his cock. “What would your parents think?”

You knew he’d degrade you, but in all fairness, none of what he just said to you is a lie. You don’t even know his last name, you didn’t even know what he fucking looked like until fifteen minutes ago. Your parents would have a heart attack if they knew, and somehow feeling this dirty makes your stomach tumble and panties dampen.

He stops guiding you for a moment, feeling your tongue travel back down to his balls, licking and prodding against them in a way that makes him want to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t show want or need for his partners, ever. That’s their role to fill, because if he wants to fuck something, he can.

“Up,” He guides with a slap to your cheek, feeling your tongue travel up the underside of his cock again. “Open up.” He adds as he stares down at you, seeing you open your mouth fully while keeping your tongue flat against him.

When you circle your lips around the head, you want to take your time. You want to prepare for the fact that Heeseung has a huge cock and it’s going to take some getting used to. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen though, because now his hand is putting pressure on your head to go down, and your body fights it slightly because your throat has never been prepared for this kind of size?.

“No?” He asks, pulling your head off of him and seeing if you’re already going to give him a red, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him and instead, focus your eyes on the head of his cock trying to be better prepared.

You almost hear the chuckle he lets out, the silent code word of green shining through in the way you say nothing. With that, he places both hands on your head and holds it there.

“Deep breath–” He encourages. “Look at me.”

Your eyes dart up to his as you take in a sharp inhale, and then, he’s not sliding in, he’s plunging past your lips, straight down your throat. The thickness of him forces your jaw to strain open as he angles himself, watching you try to close your eyes to refrain from gagging.

“Open your eyes, look at me.” He demands this time, pressing further into your mouth and leaving little room for you to fight it. You do your best to look up at him, straining as he watches his cock disappear deeper into your mouth. Then, he holds you there, stiffening his hips just to twitch his cock and stretch your throat out.

For a moment, ignoring the fact that your lips are being spread impossibly wide and you can feel your throat attempting to constrict around the intrusion, you watch the way his face stares down at you. He’s really into this. Concentrated on sliding his full, hardened cock as deep as it can go into your mouth. And when he hits the back of your throat a third time and there’s a tear shedding down your cheek, he fucking chuckles.

“It’s not so bad, right?” He asks, knowing you can’t answer with a mouth full of him.

That’s when the grip on your head becomes harsher and he starts fucking his hips forward, past your lips. He can feel you struggle, squeezing his length as it fills your throat, dripping precum and fully aware that you can’t even taste it.

“Deeper.” He decides in a quick grunt, standing to his feet from the edge of the bed, holding your face on his cock and pressing in more, until he can hear the drool bubble from the corners of your mouth.

He stares down at you and the way your neck cranes. He can almost see the bulge of his cock intruding your throat as he presses in tightly if he angles his head right. He coos at you, rubbing a thumb against your cheek.

“Pretty, tight little throat.” Heeseung compliments, reaching his hand down to rest against your neck so that he can feel his length sliding in and out of your throat. “Do you hate this?”

You can’t respond, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose. Your jaw is already hurting, your makeup is now ruined, and for some reason, you don’t hate it. You like the feeling of your breath being lost, with his hand pressed against any airway you could have possibly used at this moment.

Arms still behind your back, you can’t help but pull them forward to brace your hands against your own knees as he continues to fuck into your mouth at a more aggressive pace. When he pulls almost all the way out, you steal little gasps that end up sounding more like wet, desperate, attempts to breathe. When he presses all the way back in, bruising your throat in an immaculate show of how big he is, he doesn’t make a single sound and only concentrates on the way he can feel his cock sliding against the palm of his hand through the expanse of skin along your neck.

He does this for what feels like ages to you, and briefly you forget the pain of it and remember when he texted you the photo, saying you’d probably rather be choking on it. Experiencing it now, it’s more than you had imagined before, but also, in its own way, a million times better than you could have imagined.

Heeseung’s hips start to slow as he releases his grip on your neck and moves his hands either side of your head. He holds you there on him as he tenses his muscles, your nose pressing against his abdomen and you can feel his cock twitch in the deepest depths your throat has to offer. You are continuously gagging around him and only now does he let out a moan, one that is deep and breathy. You open your eyes to try and look, but the angle doesn’t allow for it. All you can see is the expanse of skin along his abdomen and chest before his hands release your head.

He’s expecting you to pull back, considering you haven’t gotten a full breath of air since he started doing this, but you don't. He jerks his head down to look at you when he feels your hands grip at his jeans again. Heeseung doesn’t even think to tell you to put them back behind your back now, because you are willingly still choking on him. He can feel your tongue struggle to share the space in your mouth with him, the heaviness of his cock weighing it down.

“Shit–” He groans, staring down at you and the way you close your eyes so tightly in concentration, all in an attempt to please him. “Oh, fuck.” He throws his head back again this time, feeling the way you try to move your mouth on him, essentially deep-throating all on your own.

When he looks back down at you, he’s floored by the wetness against your cheeks. You’ve been crying this whole time, dribbling drool, and taking it so well. He makes a point to pull himself out of you because of it.

The whimper that leaves your lips is something he doesn’t think he can forget. A raspy whimper. A fucking cry, he’d be lying if it didn’t sound like you were disappointed that he stopped suffocating you.

“Eager to please.” He starts sweetly, pinching your drool-coated chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You like letting me use that tight little throat?”

You blink through your tears, nodding to him. You surprised yourself with how much you were able to take in that instant, and how willing you were to do it for longer.

“Like you were made for it,” He hisses out this time, pulling you up by the chin so that you can stand in front of him, “Show me how wet this pussy is.”

You can’t look away from his eyes, especially with the way he stares directly into yours when he cups his palm between your legs. Even with your clothes on, your body prickles with goosebumps at the sensation of him touching you there.

“Can feel you through these shorts,” he smiles, dipping his head down to ghost over the shell of your ear before moving his hand to the button of your shorts. “Do you want me to touch you? I bet you do.”

You’ve never begged before, and you never really understood why people begged at all, but at this moment you think you would absolutely fall right back to your knees and plead for him to touch you. You can feel your shorts sticking to you, your panties uncomfortably tucked into your seeping pussy at the very act of him fucking your mouth.

“Please?” You choke out, voice still raspy as you try to speak.

Heeseung chuckles at your pathetic attempt and pulls you by your shorts to step forward as he takes one step back. He shakes his head at you in pity, sitting himself on the bed as he drags you to stand between his legs.

“Turn around.” He guides you with his hand before circling your ass with his hands and landing a short slap against the back of your thigh. “Now, sit.”

He still guides you, positioning his cock between both of your plush thighs and holding in a shiver at the way the hem of your shorts drags against his length.

You know you get nothing out of this, and he’s not going to touch you yet but fuck, you need it at this point. He watched you gag around him, he watched you try your fucking best, and this is what you get in return? The head of his cock peeking from your thighs as you squeeze around them? So be it.

You keep both feet on the floor, doing your best to keep your legs together as you make an attempt to bounce against his lap but he stops you instantly.

“I didn’t say you could move,” he warns, placing his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist before leaning both of you back and then rolling you over to your side. “Cross your legs and squeeze. Don’t move.”

You do exactly as he asks, crossing your legs at the ankle and lying there still as he slips his cock from between your thighs. You wait like this for a moment before you feel the head of his length nudging between, this time more wet than before, and then his hand is traveling to your belly and under your shirt from behind you.

“Big tits too, ever gotten off from nipple play?” he whispers, his hand ignoring your bra and pinching straight through the sheer fabric against your nipple. “Would love to see how you’d drench these shorts if you could do that for me.”

Your mind is racing, feeling his fingers tightening the pinch against your nipple and his cock lazily sliding between your thighs. You shake your head, not knowing if it is even possible to get off that way. Sensitive tits aside, if he can do it, you might just have to find a way to claim Heeseung as your dom, and no one else's.

“You haven’t?” He chuckles from behind you, snaking his other hand under you and up to your other tit. “Let’s see.”

He uses both hands to move your bra to the outer swell of your breasts and gropes both of them before pausing and focusing on his cock between your legs for a split second.

“Keep your legs tight for me, babe, I’ll reward you for it.”

You squeeze your legs tighter as you feel his fingertips gently flick both of your nipples. You try to focus on that sensation alone, feeling a short jolt of pleasure travel down your body and straight to your clit. God, you want him to touch your pussy so badly, because there’s no way you can get off from this alone.

His focus falls back to you, fucking his hips forward all while he allows his fingers to put more and more pressure into the flicks and pinches. You must not realize the way your body trembles even at this, and it’s driving him fucking insane. You’re so new to this, but you suck cock like you’ve been a submissive plaything for years. You have so much to learn, so much to experience, and it’s hard for him not to want to do it all right here, right fucking now.

Without warning, he pulls his hips back and leaves his cock untouched. You’re about to turn your body to him in confusion but he does it for you. Rolling you over onto your back before kicking his own pants off. Now, he positions himself between your legs. He looks at you, deep and dark eyes matching the smirk on his face.

“Show me,” he starts, pulling your shirt off of you in one swift motion and staring down at your chest. “Wanna see them before I fucking ruin them.”

Typically, it’s normal for you to be fairly silent in these situations, so having no response for him isn’t a surprise. What is surprising is the way your throat instantly forces out a small moan when his legs force you to spread yours as he settles between them.

Even the sensation of your pussy opening beneath your shorts at the spread of your legs has you feeling more aroused than before. So, when he shocks you with a quick slap against one of your tits, you’re not even surprised that it feels good.

He watches your face after that slap, your slack jaw rising into a small and cocky smirk at the realization that you’re liking what he’s doing. He’s still in the green, so he slaps again, harder this time before leaning down and licking the spot he just hit.

He pulls your bra up with one hand, raising it to your collar bone to release both of your tits and leaving them vulnerable to any hit, kiss, bite, or pinch he has to offer. You don’t care, because when you manage to open your eyes and look at him, he’s entirely focused on the way your nipples harden and soften from the sensations.

When he leans down to lick, your pussy clenches at the wet heat of his tongue flicking your nipple, and when his teeth graze as a warning for a future bite, you only anticipate it. Your body instinctively humping up each time a jolt is sent to your clit. He bites hard, and then pulls back to slap against your other tit even harder. Until you’re left shaking, babbling incoherently with gasps and curses.

“Does it hurt enough?” He coos, leaning back down to lick the growing swell against your tits. “Do you want more?”

He’s surprised that you nod, chuckling to himself because he was already going just as hard as he normally would when a woman likes breast abuse. You want more? You want him to go harder? He hums in response, using one hand to grip harshly against one tit and dipping down to suck against a particularly swollen and sore area on the other..

You feel the pain, the sensation running down your body much like the arousal and pleasure does. It’s almost hard to tell the difference between them, aside from the fact that the pain actually hits harder. The feeling of his mouth abusing you, his hands, all while his cock is hanging heavy and neglected against your thigh? You can take more than this even, you’re sure of it.

Without really intended to, your hands find their way to his hair. He almost pulls back to demand that you let go, to inform you that he gave no permission to touch him, but the way you pull against his strands has him replacing his harsh sucking and biting against your flesh to flicking his tongue against your nipple again. Surely, you can cum from this, surely, you’re close if you’re stepping out of line, right?

He’s going to make damn sure you’re soaking your shorts before he rewards you again, after all.

You moan at the flutters of his tongue gently flicking your nipple, especially in contrast to his other hand bruising your other breast. It’s strange, really, to feel that familiar build up in your stomach but then again, your panties are tucked so tightly between your lips that your clothing is actually offering a bit of pleasure on that front too. Your clit is harshly being restricted and somehow, that offers relief in its own way.

For the first time in your life, you feel waves washing through your body that feel so hot that you’re sure you have a fever. He continues to stimulate your nipples, replacing his tongue with his other hand as he pulls back and watches you fall apart beneath him. His cock twitches wildly at the image. Your lips parting, tongue darting out to try and collect the saliva threatening to fall from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolled back before you squeeze them tightly and fucking tremble.

Your lower half is humping up, your chest is chasing the abuse of his fingers, and you feel nothing but heat as you orgasm for an embarrassingly long time. All the way until your ears pick up the sound of him cooing at you.

“Dirty girl, you made a mess.” He smiles, releasing your tits and sliding down the bed before resting his chin on your knee.

You’ve barely come back to reality when you feel your shorts unsticking from your pathetic cunt. Panties still tucked uncomfortably against you, he tries to coo again, but instead he groans at the image of both your pussy and your shorts.

“Fuck,” he stares. “So goddamn wet.”

He analyzes your shorts briefly before tossing them to the side and bracing both hands on your knees to spread your legs out. There, he hooks his pointer finger beneath the panties sitting between your pussy lips pulls them out.

“So messy for me.” he comments, realizing that your entire pussy is glistening with arousal. He pulls your panties off of you easily, eyes focused on the way your hole pulses for something, anything.

You weren’t expecting him to do it, but then again, you weren’t expecting to let him do it when he shoves the panties into your face.

“Say ahhh.” He smiles, pressing the panties into your mouth with two fingers when you instantly obey. “Suck.”

You do, wondering how the fuck you ended up in a situation where this actually turns you on. He’s loving it though, watching your pussy pulse even more as you suck your own mess out of the fabric. You almost forgot his promise of a reward, if you’re being honest. So, yet again, you’re surprised when you feel his tongue, without any warning, lick straight against that pulsing hole and up to your clit.

Your legs shake around him, instinctively closing around his head before both of his strong arms spread them back out again. He chuckles against your pussy, and when you inhale to try and regain control of the sensitive pleasure taking over your body, you can only taste yourself. Each breath replaced with your past orgasm, each moan coming out as a choked and desperate whine.

The pleasure is short lived though. Heeseung takes note of your whining, licking and tasting you to the point that he’s the one that’s about to fucking lose it. He’s quick to regain his control, licking a languid stripe up your folds before landing against your clit and grazing his teeth against it.

He holds you down when you jump at it, groaning at the sensitivity and pain. He grazes his teeth against it again, and again, and then finally nibbles against it. Your whining gets louder and he swears he can hear a whisper of a ‘wait, stop–’ as you spit the panties out of your mouth and your legs still try to squeeze around him, but he holds you down more, chuckling.

“You know that’s not going to stop me.” Heeseung reminds you before nibbling again.

You could end this torture right now. Your clit has been neglected this whole time until now, and it’s not gentle. He’s biting, he’s grazing, and it fucking hurts. All you have to do is say the color, all you have to do is choke it out between his evil ministrations, but you don’t.

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs, leaning back and sitting up between your legs. He releases his hold on your hips, now pressing one hand flat on your stomach and holding you down that way instead before slapping your clit.

“Didn’t expect you to be a pain slut.”

You groan, unable to answer between his quick slaps to your clit. Swallowing hard, you try to speak. He notices your attempt and holds back his next, harsher slap.

“Baby wants to speak now?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently and encouraging you to try.

“Yellow,” you finally whimper, and he raises his brow.

“Oh?” He confirms, waiting for you to nod before holding back entirely from the slaps and instead, pinching your clit much like he did to your nipples.

For some fucking reason, this hurts more than the slaps but the consistent pain is more tolerable than the sudden, anticipated slaps. This, you like.

“Mhm,” You manage to moan out this time, biting at your bottom lip as your eyes roll back in pleasured pain, hips humping up for more.

He tilts his head, liking the way you whine for it, happy to have found someone so willing to hurt for him. He pinches harder, watching you react, he dips his head down again and offers a bit more pleasure that way too as a means of secret reward. All the way until your legs are shaking, and he knows now that you’re already about to cum again.

Despite your confirmation and willingness to let him continue the abuse of your pussy, he pulls back entirely, collecting the wet seeping out of you and sliding it down his cock with his fist.

“Eyes on me.” He demands, staring between your legs. You listen, managing to open your eyes in frustration and watch him. “Were you about to cum again?”

His eyes dart to you, and your pussy pulses yet again when you nod, releasing a frustrated sigh. He ignores it, looking back down at your hole, his thought process switching to his own pleasure.

“Do you know how much I want it to hurt when you do?” He asks again, fisting his cock faster, using his other hand to grab your face and force you to look into his eyes. “I could be so fucking deep inside of you right now, you know that, right?”

You groan, your body threatening to release something that resembles an orgasm on those words alone.

“Fuck–” You try to moan for him, you try to beg, but he stops you by squeezing your cheeks tighter.

“Fuck, what?” He asks, feeling his own orgasm welling up inside of him before he grips the base of his cock, denying him of that pleasure. “You?”

You nod aggressively, your hand reaching to grip his arms and brace yourself.

“Say it,” he demands, releasing his cock and using his other hand to run his fingers up your pussy. “Scream it, beg me.”

You choke out the words before releasing a raspy shout, begging a man you barely know to stretch you open, to use you as he sees fit, salivating at the very idea of him doing it more than he already has.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans at the sound of your desperate voice, standing to his feet. He quickly removes the rest of his clothes, the musky scent of him blowing past you as he throws his shirt over your face. “You’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you? ”

Instantly you do, trying to adjust your head to knock his shirt away and off of you, only half of it slides away, allowing you to peek at him with one eye.

“Come on, take it.” He says, glancing down at his cock as he stands at the foot of the bed in front of you. “You think I’m going to fuck you?”

“Fuck yourself.” He smiles in a cocky, almost evil way. “Get on it babe.”

Honestly, it’s like you’re seeing tunnel vision. Nothing in this room exists but you and his cock. Entirely tuned into your pleasure, your pussy aching from sensitivity and lack of being stretched open, you’re instantly leaning forward to get to him, leaving your tits abandoned almost instantly.

He watches the way you pull yourself from the bed, acting like an animal as you fall to your knees and take him into your mouth much like you did before. His jaw tenses at your hunger, and he holds back a moan at the way you appear to have lost yourself entirely for him. He doesn’t fuck his hips forward, he doesn’t touch you, he just stands there. Watching you unravel on your knees, feeling your eager tongue try to force a reaction from him.

“I said to fuck yourself,” He warns, stepping back and pulling his cock from your mouth. “Didn’t you just beg?”

He smiles when he says it, and in your head, you don’t care if it’s some sort of trick or play of words. You’d gladly spread out on the bed and absolutely pound your pussy on your fingers alone if he so much as hinted for you to do it, but at this point his cock is out, and it’s heavy.

Heeseung is a bit shocked when you shove him back, eyes still glazed over in a way that shows him that you’re not in your right mind. He steps back, allowing you to press him all the way until he’s leaned against the hotel vanity. Raising his brow, kind of impressed, he allows you to hook one leg around him and instantly holds your leg in place to balance you there.

He still says nothing, he doesn’t move past holding your leg in place around him, and his eyes remain on yours as you reach between the two of you and position his cock straight to your hungry cunt. There, he chuckles when your face turns from something that seemed determined, into relief at the stretch of his head entering past your lips.

Still, he stands, chuckling at how desperate you are to fuck him this way, rather than just turning around and bending over. Surely the position would be easier for you, but then it all makes sense when he feels your lips slacked against his, panting against him as you make attempts to find some sort of rhythm.

You did ask if kissing was allowed, and god, you’re like a fucking animal. He breathes into it, pressing his tongue past your slack lips and tasting the remnants of your panties.

“You’re already so gone,” he whispers into your mouth, feeling your shallow humps on his cock. “I’m hardly even inside of you, I said I could go deep.”

You don’t really hear those words. Honestly, your body is moving on its own and doing what it can do at this moment. The angle isn’t easy, but you wanted to kiss him so fucking badly.

He pulls out of you though, leaving little reaction for you to do anything other than feel embarrassed by your attempt to fuck yourself on him just for a kiss. He doesn’t expect you to keep going though, apparently, because he’s instantly swirling you around and shoving you to the bed. Bending you over and placing a hand at the back of your head before pressing your face into the blankets. His other hand holding both of your hands behind your back with ease.

“Better?” He asks, easily positioning his cock and shoving into you with one quick thrust, bottoming out entirely. “Hm?” He adds, pulling out and shoving in again.

Your mouth is open in a silent moan at the intense stretch, tasting nothing but the fabric of the blanket your face is currently shoved into.

“Can’t hear you,” He grunts, picking up the pace and pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast that you can barely catch your breath regardless of the blankets already making it difficult. “You like it so fucking deep, don’t you?”

You can’t answer. You can only groan at the feeling of his cock stretching you open repeatedly, at his hand shoving your face further against the mattress until all you can do is tense your body.

He feels it, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that even he gets the breath knocked out of him. Gripping your hair, he pulls your head up and listens to your gasps for air. His hips slam harder, harder, harder, until he feels the pleasure threaten to hit him. That’s when he stops, burying himself into you entirely before releasing your head and falling forward against you.

“Don’t fucking move.” He warns, twitching inside of you as he feels you heave for air beneath him.

You try not to move, but your sensitive body reacts to even the sound of his breath behind your ear. Everything is more sensitive than you could ever imagine your body being. Your bruised and swollen tits are throbbing against the mattress, your clit is pulsing at the fullness of his cock inside of you, and your pussy is struggling still to adjust to his size. It feels fucking immaculate. You want him to move, you want to move. You want to be fucked, obliterated, destroyed.

“Wait–” You manage to muffle out, knowing full well that it’ll get him to do the exact opposite.

“I’m not even fucking you,” he laughs, pressing his hips forward a bit more, causing you to whimper in response.

“Stop, just, give me a second.” You cry out.

“Not how this works.” He laughs, pulling his hips back and pointedly thrusting into you again. “So dumb you forgot how to use your words properly?”

You nod, smirking against the blankets.

“Liar.” He groans, amused by your little attempts to control how hard he goes. “If you want it harder, all you have to do is beg.”

His hips speed up, this time thrusting into you so hard that the bed itself scoots further forward and bangs against the wall. You yelp in pleasure, rolling your eyes back and wanting so badly to see his face as he fucks you.

“Hee– please.” You groan and he pulls back, wondering if you actually are so lost that you’ve forgotten the colors.

“Colors, sweetheart. Red for stop.” He goes harder, harder, harder, “Or is this exactly what you want?”

You shake your head almost aggressively at that, bracing your hands on the bed and pushing your ass back against him.

It floors him, really, that you’ll ask him to stop and then blatantly ignore your own words by fucking yourself back on him. You’re insane, honestly.

“Please what, then?” He asks out of breath, smiling as he watches you fuck back against him.

“Let me see you do it.” You whine out, desperate to feel intimate, to feel close.

He obliges, tilting his head at the request but allowing it nonetheless. You can feel him slip out of you before his fingers replace his cock. He doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your clenched pussy even for a moment as he guides you to roll over and shoves you back on the bed, your legs hanging off the end of it. He braces himself at the end of the mattress, resting his cock against your you as he scissors his fingers inside of you with a smile.

“Wanna see me fucking ruin you?” He smirks at you, pulling at your legs and guiding you to wrap them around him. “Then watch.”

You do, eyes zoned in on him as he grips tightly at your legs and pulls his fingers out of you. You can’t even catch your breath, which is no longer a shock to you, when he slides back into you. Studying his face as he does it, you can’t tell if he feels good or if this is just a service he does on the regular. You wonder what you’d have to do to break that stone-cold look in his eyes, what it takes to get him to moan without restraint, to show you that you’re also making him feel good.

He fucks you so well, so deep, and god, it becomes so difficult to keep your eyes on him with each painful thrust. The bed continues to knock against the wall, your cries become louder and louder, and finally, fucking finally, you hear him release his breath in a low and guttural moan.

That’s it. That’s what you want to hear from him, time and time again.

“Harder,” you urge him, feeling his hands tighten around your legs before he’s releasing them and dropping his hand to your throat. “Harder.” You continue now with a strained voice.

He does, putting all of his strength behind his thrusts, losing himself momentarily in the moment and squeezing your throat tighter as he grunts out at you with a defeated chuckle.

“Of course, you’d be the one to pull this out of me.” He admits, his smile never falling from his lips as he closes his eyes and listens to the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. “Of course, you’d be the one to grip my cock like this.”

You’re gone, not even realizing that you’ve been on the edge for a while now in the way his thick cock continuously massages your g-spot. You tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deep inside of you as you clench and grip around him in a release.

He allows it, surprising himself for being so lenient, then slides his hand up your throat before releasing it and using two of his fingers to hook your mouth open. There, he watches you drench him, he feels your arousal gushing out of your stuffed pussy and onto the bed, and now, now it’s his turn.

“That’s it, all over me, baby–” he coos, pulling his hips back and slamming back into you despite your tightened legs around him. “Feel it.” he adds, accenting his words with another particularly deep thrust.

You’re entirely silent, and he’s loving it as he slides his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding your tongue down and imagining which way he’d like to fill you up. He could watch his seed run down your thighs, he could pull out and fuck your throat until climax, he could pull out and deny himself a bit more, just to see you fall apart more.

It hits him a bit too fast though, when he’s looking down your throat and watching your eyes slowly open to look at him. There’s the tears, your sensitive pussy probably begging for him to pull out, to give you some relief, to be gentle. He offers one last thing to you, pulling his fingers from your mouth and dragging them down.

There, he rubs against your swollen clit until you’re writhing under him to get away. Still no safe words have been used, and you’re fully capable of stopping him at this moment. But you don’t. So, he doesn’t stop. The sensation of your body writhing, fighting the pain, chasing the smallest hint of pleasure throws him into his release. He presses into you so hard that the bed remains in a slightly tilted position, fitting snugly against the wall as he paints your inner walls with thick, hot cum.

You whimper at the feeling, legs falling open from around him as your body tries to wiggle away with your post-orgasm shocks. He moans each time, falling forward half way through his orgasm..

“You feel that?” He growls against your ear as he fucks his the entire mess into you. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

You listen to him speak, the words matching the pain in your body to such an extent that you’d probably let him keep going if he wanted to. You’d let him break you of all sanity, you’d let him tie you up, use you, abuse you.

And when he goes silent, his sweat dampened skin raises and he slips out of you with care and a deep sigh of relief. You simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long you’ve been here, why it took you so long to explore this side of your sexuality, and why you’re not ready for it to be over, despite your aching body.

You feel his presence leave you for a brief moment and return with a warm and wet towel, and you jolt when it touches between your legs. Your body jolts in aversion at the feeling of the rough material against your clit, but still you try to relax.

“You must be sensitive,” Heeseung says gently with a voice you’ve never heard from him, “They always are after their first time.”

Nodding, you try to pull yourself up and close your legs, but your body feels stiff again.

“Relax, you’ll probably faint if you try to stand up too fast.” He tries to explain, folding the towel over to clean you with a different side of it. “It’s not like a normal hook up, you know? If you’re gonna let me hurt you, you’ve gotta let me take care of you after.”

Your throat is dry as you lay there, the sensation of even his gentle touches feeling like too much to handle. You feel like you can’t move, so you trust his words and try to relax.

“That’s it, yeah,” He encourages, going to try and help you shuffle your body up to the head of the bead so that you at least have a pillow. “Take your time. You have my number if you ever wanna meet up again.”

With that, Heeseung steps himself into the bathroom and cleans himself up. When he comes back out, he’s already dressed and fixing his hair in the mirror before heading toward the door.

“Wait,” You panic, lifting up quickly and feeling a bit light headed at the sudden movement, “You’re leaving?”

He smiles at you, nodding. Everything else you do as a newcomer may be fairly expected, but it’s rare when Heeseung ends up with someone who doesn’t want him to leave after.

“I do have a day job, you know,” He tries to play it off as a joke, but he really didn’t think you expected him to stay after general aftercare. “Stay here and rest up. Check out is tomorrow at eleven so feel free to enjoy the room. Not sure if you noticed, but it’s one of the nicest hotels in the city.”

Oh. Right, you didn’t notice. After all, when you got to the door the room practically didn’t exist to you outside of the floor in front of the bed, the bed, and the ceiling.

“Red.” You say, unsure if it’ll work.

“You can’t do that.” He finds it sweet, but dangerous nevertheless. He doesn’t sleep over with his website meetups. He’s here to bring you pleasure and pain sexually, not emotionally. “Like I said, you’ve got my number.”

You’re silent, watching him turn the knob on the door.

“Oh and,” He pauses, turning to look at you. “Don’t go off with other randoms from the site. Some of them don’t offer the kindness I offered to you today. Ease into it, I’ll be around to help if you need me.”

Wondering if he’s implying that you should only see him when it comes to this sexual dynamic, you nod to him, trying to ignore the fact that he claimed “kindness” was being offered to you. If this was him being kind, you can’t help but wonder what he’s like when he’s…you know, not.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ Reminder to pls pls reblog works from writiers you enjoy ; u ; feedback would also be appreciated! You can also tip through my patreon for early access and other fun stuff!

#cina🌙: tbr list

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cinnamon-won · 3 months ago

Text

Triple the Pleasure - 02z

⤷ genre: nsfw.

⤷ synopsis: you are the female 8th member of ENHYPEN and things get heated in the dorm's living room.

Being the only girl in ENHYPEN was overwhelming at first. When you debuted, everything felt awkward—seven boys and you, unsure of how to navigate the unspoken boundaries.

But as time passed, things changed. They became your brothers, your best friends, your protectors. Though the world saw you as idols, behind closed doors, you were just a family.

Living in the same dorm as Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Ni-ki had its moments—late-night talks, goofing around, gaming together.

And sometimes, when the stress of idol life became too much, they all found comfort in you in ways that went beyond just words. It was never complicated—just an unspoken way of showing care, of releasing tension, of feeling close in a world that often felt too distant.

Tonight, you and Sunghoon decided to visit the dorm upstairs, where Jay, Jungwon, Jake, and Sunoo lived.

Pushing open the door, you stepped inside to find only Jay and Jake lounging around. Jungwon and Sunoo had gone shopping, leaving the place unusually quiet.

"You guys alone?" you asked, slipping off your shoes.

"Yeah, those two went out a while ago" Jake replied, stretching his arms behind his head.

You made your way to the couch. Jay was sitting in one of the chairs, legs spread comfortably, scrolling through his phone. He barely looked up but smirked at your entrance.

Sunghoon dropped onto the couch beside you, his arm casually draped over the back of it, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder—a subtle, familiar touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

Sunghoon's fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder as you settled onto the couch, his touch both comforting and thrilling. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the gentle pressure of his arm around you.

"I'm bored" Jake muttered, sinking deeper into the couch beside you. His shoulder pressed against yours, sandwiching you between him and Sunghoon.

You exhaled, pushing yourself up from the couch.

"I'll fix that" you said, making your way to the kitchen.

Your fingers grazed the cool glass as you pulled out a few soju bottles from the cabinet.

"Are you guys in the mood?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure" Sunghoon responded, his gaze flickering with something unreadable.

Settling back into your seat, you set the bottles on the table. It didn't take long before they were empty—each round of drinking games only escalating the heat in the room. The alcohol buzzed through your veins, leaving you lightheaded but aware.

Then, Jay spoke.

"Y/N, you know we love you, right?" His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

You chuckled, caught off guard by his sudden confession. "I love you guys too."

Jay leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his dark eyes locked onto yours.

"No, like… we really love you. You’re always taking care of us. Doing things for us. Sometimes…" He paused, his voice lowering, "more than what just a friend would do."

Something in his tone sent a spark of unease through you.

"Yeah, I know" you murmured.

"And to be honest…" Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair,

"I'm stressed as hell right now. Coachella is in like a month. We’ve been practicing like crazy."

"I agree," Jake added, his voice quieter now.

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch.

"I—" you started, but the words tangled in your throat as Jay suddenly stood up.

Jake moved aside, creating space. Space for Jay, who slowly sat beside you, close enough that his warmth bled into your skin.

Your breath caught.

Your pulse stuttered.

You glanced at the others. Sunghoon’s eyes were dark, unreadable. Jake wore an expression you couldn’t quite place.

Jay’s hand brushed against your thigh, barely a whisper of contact.

"Relax" Sunghoon murmured from behind you, his voice smooth, deliberate.

The air felt heavier. Charged.

"Guys, I don’t—"

Jay leaned in, his lips inches from yours. Close enough that you could feel his breath, warm and slow.

"Just trust us" he whispered.

And in that moment, you realized—this was a line you had never considered crossing.

But they had.

And now, you weren’t sure if you could turn back.

Jay leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. The kiss starts off gentle but quickly deepens, his tongue seeking entrance. You melt into it, hearing the shuffling of clothes as Sunghoon and Jake begin to undress beside you both.

Jay breaks the kiss, his hands moving to your shirt, lifting it over your head. His eyes rake over your body hungrily as he tosses the shirt aside. Sunghoon and Jake are now naked, their hard cocks standing at attention. Jay stands up, quickly shedding his own clothes.

You're left in your underwear, surrounded by the three of them. Jay pulls you to him, his lips crashing into yours again. Sunghoon steps closer, his hands reaching around to unhook your bra. Jake kneels down, his hands sliding up your legs to pull down your underwear.

You're now completely naked, sandwiched between Jay and Sunghoon. Jake looks up at you from between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs apart. Sunghoon's fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them as Jay continues to kiss you deeply.

Jake buries his face between your thighs, his tongue parting your folds. You gasp into Jay's mouth, feeling the wet warmth on your most intimate area. Sunghoon's hands roam down to your hips, spreading them wider for Jake.

Jake's tongue explores your pussy, tasting and teasing. Jay's hands slide down to your backside, squeezing your cheeks as he grinds his hard-on against your hip. Sunghoon's thumb finds your clit, pressing and circling it in time with Jake's licks.

You moan loudly, a leg throwing over Jake's shoulder for better access. He feasts on you, his tongue delving deep inside. Jay watches hungrily, his hands moving to his thick length, pumping it slowly.

Without a word, you remove your leg from Jake's shoulder, you turn around and straddle Jay's lap, sinking down onto his hard cock with a long moan.

Jay grips your hips, his head falling back as you start to ride him. Sunghoon moves behind you, his hands spreading your ass cheeks. You lean forward, opening your mouth to take Jake's cock inside as he steps closer.

Sunghoon positions himself behind you, spitting on his hand to lube up his cock. He presses against your asshole, slowly pushing in as you take Jay's dick in your pussy. "Fuck, you're so tight..." he groans, bottoming out inside you while you are crying out whimpers from the sudden, painfull stretch.

You lean forward, taking Jake's cock into your mouth again. He lets out a hiss of pleasure, his hands tangling in your hair. You start to move again, riding Jay's cock while sucking Jake off. Sunghoon begins to thrust into your asshole, his hips slapping against you.

You're filled from both ends, the sensation overwhelming. Jay's hands grip your waist, helping you ride him harder. Sunghoon's thrusts are steady and deep, his cock stretching your asshole wide. Jake's hips begin to move, fucking your mouth gently as he holds your head in place.

The rhythm becomes intense--your moans are muffled around Jake's cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with the occasional whimper or groan from each of them.

Their movements become more urgent, each hungry for their release. Jake's cock swells slightly in your mouth, indicating his approaching orgasm. Sunghoon's thrusts become almost brutal, his hands bruising your hips. Jay's fingers dig into your skin as he lifts you up and down on him.

Jake's cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly but only turning him on more.

"Goddamn, your mouth feels amazing" he groans.

Sunghoon's hands grip your hips possessively, his nails digging in as he pulls you back onto him harder.

"You take it so well..." he grunts.

Jay's hands roam up to your bouncing tits, squeezing and sucking them.

You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as the pleasure becomes almost too much. Jake pulls out of your mouth, stroking his dick quickly as he comes undone, spilling his hot seed onto your face and breasts. You moan at the sight, feeling Jay and Sunghoon thrust even harder.

Sunghoon's grunts become louder, his release drawing near. Jay's hands tighten around your waist, his hips bucking wildly as he chases his own release.

"Look at me" Jay pants, his face contorted with pleasure.

You look down at Jay, your eyes locked with his as he slams into you one final time. He comes with a shout, filling you with his hot cum. At the same moment, Sunghoon buries himself deep in your ass and stills, his own release pulsing inside you.

The three of you stay connected for a moment, panting heavily as you recover from the intense orgasm.

Jake scoops his cum off your chest and forces you to lick it off his hand.

"Lick it" he orders gruffly.

You obediently lick Jake's hand clean, savoring the salty taste of his cum.

Meanwhile, Jay and Sunghoon slowly pull out of you, their softening cocks slipping free with wet sounds. A trickle of their releases dribbles out of your stretched holes.

The room was quiet now, the only sound being your steady breaths mingling together. The tension that once crackled between you had softened into something warm and unspoken.

Jay ran a lazy hand down your arm, tracing invisible patterns against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, eyes heavy with exhaustion but laced with something lighter—contentment.

Jake chuckled beside you.

“Didn’t expect the night to turn out like this, huh?”

You smirked. “Not exactly.”

Sunghoon shifted, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“Well… we should probably clean up.”

None of you moved.For now, it was enough just to be here, tangled up in the aftermath of something none of you had fully processed yet.

And maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the last time.

#cina🌙: tbr list

636 notes · View notes

cinnamon-won · 3 months ago

Text

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

the one where heeseung spirals into a twisted obsession after meeting his lovely stepdaughter.

➺ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, a/b/o au, smut

➺ WORD COUNT: 9.2k

➺ CW/TW: alpha!heeseung, omega!reader, stepcest, infidelity, age gap, obsession, possessiveness, grinding, begging, spanking, spitting, fingering, biting, daddy kink, breeding kink, size kink, hand job, pussy slaps, oral sex (f), squirting, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, knotting

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Heeseung has always had obsessive tendencies.

Ever since he was a kid, he would fixate on something (or someone) until it became his or until he grew sick of it. His parents had brushed it off as a normal alpha disposition. They claimed he was territorial like any other alpha, so there was nothing to really worry about. Even back then, Heeseung knew that obsessive was a better word to describe him. Either way, because of this enabling, he never tried to correct his behavior despite knowing it wasn’t entirely normal.

As the years passed, Heeseung was able to control himself better (for the most part). After college, nothing really grabbed his attention the way it used to, and he mistakenly thought it was because he had finally grown out of his obsessive tendencies.

That undesirable part of him lay dormant for so long that he was able to lead a normal life. He even found a nice beta to settle down with. She was older than him and willing to placate him in every way. Even though Heeseung didn’t love her, she gave her entire heart to him. His selfishness allowed him to accept everything she was willing to give him, and he never once felt bad about it. After all, his wife wanted nothing more than to support him and make him a better man. Which she sort of did. At some point, Heeseung was convinced that he was slowly shedding the obsessive part of his personality completely thanks to his wife.

That illusion shattered the moment he met his wife’s daughter.

Heeseung always knew his wife had a daughter that was in college because she told him about you on their second date. Honestly, he’d put the information in the back of his mind because his wife made it clear that you had your own life and weren’t all that interested in hers. According to her, you deviated from the typical omega because you weren’t affectionate or clingy. She made the offhand comment that your unnatural disposition is the reason you haven’t gone through your first heat despite being well past the age for it.

Even though he thought that was beyond strange, he didn’t care enough to ask more. After all, he would probably only ever see you a few times a year.

It’s a hot summer day when Heeseung meets you. His wife isn’t all that thrilled about you coming over, but apparently you need to get something from her that can’t wait for another time. There are no secrets in his marriage, but for the first time ever, his loving wife refuses to tell him what it is that you need so badly.

Heeseung comes downstairs when he hears his wife open the door. Her greeting is unenthusiastic, and he manages to catch the tail end of an awkward hug. At first he thinks it’s because of your supposed aversion to affection, but when he watches his wife shove a small bag in your hands like it’s some big inconvenience, he thinks maybe you’re not the problem.

Once he gets closer, he’s hit with an unnaturally sweet scent at full force. It’s mouth-watering and dizzying in the best way. The beast inside him wants nothing more than to bury its nose in the source and never come up for air.

“Honey!” His wife exclaims as she leads you to the living room. “Come here. I want you to meet someone.”

The second he lays his eyes on you—a pretty college girl that has yet to go through her first heat—he’s unable to control the familiar dark feeling building in his chest. His pulse starts to race, and right then he realizes that his wife hadn’t helped him break his obsessive streak at all.

Your alluring eyes and bashful smile are completely entrancing. They radiate an intense beauty he didn’t believe existed in this world. Somehow, Heeseung is able to hide the dark desire consuming him as he introduces himself. Your voice is soft and gentle when you say your name as if you’re still wary of him. He finds it adorable, and so damn tempting. Already, his cock is twitching and coming alive.

“Why didn’t your little boyfriend come with you?” Your mom’s voice yanks Heeseung out of his trance.

A sickening feeling pinches his gut. Boyfriend?

“Jake and I aren’t together anymore, mom.” You say it so indifferently that Heeseung has to hold back a sigh of relief. “I told you that last time we talked.”

Not that you having a boyfriend would have posed too much of a problem, but it definitely would’ve made things more difficult for him.

“Are you staying for dinner, Y/N?” Heeseung wonders, hoping you’ll say yes.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes shifting beside him to exchange a look with your mom. Whatever you see on her face makes you shake your head. Your pretty lips pull down slightly in genuine regret. “No—Sorry. Maybe next time.”

Heeseung resists the urge to shake off his wife’s touch when her hands snake around his arm. He can feel her smile against his bicep. It’s revolting and puzzling. Why wouldn’t she want her own daughter around?

“That’s okay, sweetie. We’ll have dinner some other time whenever you’re free.”

She sounds smug, but you don’t offer her any reaction. All you do is politely say your goodbyes before hastily leaving the house.

If Heeseung were any other man, he would’ve been happy to have his wife all to himself again. However, all he can think of is you now. His hidden stepdaughter who evoked emotions from him that are intense enough to fuel the sprouting of an obsession.

“Classes start soon,” Heeseung mentions casually the next morning. “Does Y/N usually stay on campus?”

The sour look on his wife’s face is quickly masked when she takes a sip of her coffee. “She started living with that Jake boy after she graduated high school. He has an apartment near the university.”

Heeseung tries not to sneer at the mention of the boy who had clearly been an important part of your life. “It didn’t bother you that she ran off to live with some boy so soon after finishing school?”

His wife scoffs. “She was already an adult when she decided to live with him. It’s not like I could stop her.”

More like she didn’t want to.

“Invite her to stay with us.”

The words are casual and could be seen as considerate to anyone who didn’t know of the dark intentions looming in Heeseung’s mind. His wife almost chokes on her drink when she hears his suggestion. Her eyes widened the slightest bit. An unsettling amount of rage swims in her irises as his suggestion sinks in. It’s gone within a few seconds, but he caught it.

“Honey,” her voice is tight. “That’s very nice of you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Heeseung challenges, raising an eyebrow at the fumbling woman.

“I– She—She probably won’t want to,” his wife clears her throat to cover up how flustered she feels. “I’m sure she already made plans to stay with one of her friends instead.”

“Call her.” It’s not a suggestion anymore. “Tell her to come stay with us.”

And that’s the moment his obsession began to spiral out of control.

It’s obvious that your mother isn’t thrilled about having you around, but Heeseung feels the exact opposite. Unlike his wife’s malicious description of you, you’re so unbearably sweet and polite to him that he can’t help but be completely endeared by you. He’s not sure if it’s his natural instinct or the inappropriate feelings he has, but he basks in the emotions you evoke from the depths of his heart.

You’re a sweet girl through and through, always offering to help around the house, or keeping him company when your mom’s working late. Heeseung can tell you genuinely like to help him and spend time with him which makes him all the more crazy for you.

This is incomparable to how he feels when he realizes how comfortable you’ve gotten around him. When Heeseung told you to treat his home as your own, you took him up on the offer (much to his pleasure). You sometimes walk around in a tiny nightie that barely covers anything or tiny sleep shorts and a thin tank top that does nothing to hide the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra.

“Good night, Hee,” you’d call from the door sweetly, leaning against the doorframe with an alluring smile.

His cock would spring awake, loving how you slowly started to use cute little nicknames for him. Heeseung can tell it bothers his wife. Her face twists the tiniest bit any time she hears you call him Hee. Not that he cares. In fact, he was quick to put her in her place when she scolded you for not calling him Mr. Lee. Much to her displeasure, Heeseung made it clear to both of you that you can call him whatever you want.

Making his wife upset was the last thing he cared about because nothing was more important than you and your happiness.

Heeseung usually doesn’t get up so early, but ever since he’s gotten used to sleeping next to his wife, he always notices when she’s not in bed next to him. He looks at his phone to see that it’s four in the morning. Just before sleep can claim him again, he hears faint voices. Even through the sleepy haze, he can tell it’s an unfriendly conversation.

Immediately, his mind goes to you. The thought that something might be happening to you or upsetting you has him springing out of bed. He speedwalks down the hall to your room. You have the second biggest one in the house not only because he wanted you to have the best, but because he wanted you close to him.

“—being serious. Don’t bother Heeseung while I’m away.” His wife’s harsh voice makes his stomach turn unpleasantly. “He’s a busy man, and I don’t want you getting on his nerves.”

“I won’t, mom.” You sound tired.

“Good,” she snaps. “And be grateful that he’s letting you stay here for free. Remember he can change his mind any time.”

Never.

“I know that,” you sound so down that Heeseung wants to gather you in his arms and reassure you that he’d never do something despicable like that. “I won’t get in his way”

“You better not,” your mom hisses. “I mean it, Y/N. We better not get back to find the house smelling like all your little friends.”

Now Heeseung wishes his business trip didn’t fall at the same time as your mother’s. She wouldn’t be berating you so much if he was staying behind. It’s especially infuriating because he explicitly told you it was okay to have friends over, just no boys. You laughed sweetly and promised him just that there would be no one over at all. It made him a bit sad because he didn’t want you being overly cautious.

“I’m not that irresponsible, mom. Like, I’m obviously not going to bring random people to a house that’s not mine.”

That feels like a punch to the gut. Heeseung had worked so hard to make you feel like this was your home, and it pisses him off that your mom is destroying all that work. Never in a million years would he have thought that his biggest obstacle in making you see this house as your own would be your own mother.

“Good. Also, don’t go into my room while I’m gone. I don’t need it smelling like you—”

Heeseung has to walk away. He can’t stand listening to his wife anymore. It makes him sick to his stomach to think that this is what you used to put up with all the time. No wonder you ran off to live with your ex as soon as you were able to.

His wife leaves in a few hours for the airport, and he decides right then and there that he’s going to show you the love you deserve.

Later that morning, Heeseung goes down to the living room to wait for you to wake up. He plans to spend the day with you and make sure you know that he doesn’t mind having you around. Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to wait long. You come downstairs shortly after in a pair of sweats and a large shirt, looking unbelievably cute.

“Good morning, Hee,” you say with a sleepy smile.

“Morning,” he says in a strained voice. It takes everything in him not to call you a cute pet name like he desperately wants to. “Come watch TV with me.”

Heeseung pats the spot next to him with a pretty smile that makes your heart jerk. You can’t deny that the invitation excites you. And so, in spite of the nerves you feel, you go sit by him.

“I’m happy we can spend some time together,” Heeseung hums as he leans back against the cushions, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. “Come here.”

You’re such a good girl that you don’t hesitate to snuggle up under his arm. Heeseung feels completely alive when you make yourself comfortable against him. This is what his life should constantly be like. He drapes his arm across your shoulders and squeezes you against him. Heeseung can’t resist the temptation and presses a gentle kiss on the side of your head. You whimper softly when you feel his lips graze your ear.

Heeseung smirks into your hair and presses another gentle kiss to the tip of your ear. His cock twitches when he sees you press your thighs together but make no attempt to move away. He lets out a pleased hum and starts to press more kisses on the side of your head. Eventually, those sweet pecks start to trail down your neck. Now you can’t hold back your soft sighs of pleasure.

“You feel good, baby?” He wonders against your skin before he starts to bite and suck on it.

You tilt your head to give him more access. “Y-Yeah.”

It’s wrong, but your nipples get hard under your shirt, and you’re starting to feel hot all over.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You let out a quiet moan, mind swimming. “God, Hee.”

Heeseung nips at your neck. “Be a good girl for daddy, baby. Give me a kiss.”

As if you’re in a trance, you turn to meet his dark eyes before leaning in. Your eyes close when his lips meet yours. His lips are impossibly soft, and you moan when his tongue runs across your bottom lip before he forces it in your mouth. He kisses you with an urgency that makes you feel dizzy. Heeseung groans, cock throbbing as he tastes you to his desire. You’re just as sweet as he thought you’d be.

You whine when your stepdad reluctantly pulls away.

“You want more?” His smile is sweet yet teasing.

The way you nod has his cock twitching in his pants. He gives into your silent request, groaning as he kisses you again. Your tongues tangle together as he devours you, acting like your lips are the sweetest things he’s ever tasted. Every movement is passionate and is making your pussy pulse with need. Once again, it ends too quickly for your liking.

“Another one,” you demand cutely. “Please.”

Your stepdad’s smirk is so attractive, and it matches the heat in his eyes. Heeseung raises his eyebrow at you teasingly before he’s leaning back in to give you what you want. He groans into your mouth again when he feels one of your hands rest on his thigh.

Heeseung kisses you with more need as he slowly guides your hand to his very prominent bulge. He smirks when you gasp into his mouth after feeling how hard he is. You don’t fully pull away, so he uses that to playfully bite your bottom lip. Your cunt clenches at the action as your wide eyes look where your hand is cupping his dick.

“Look how hard you made me, sweetheart,” Heeseung whispers as he presses a gentle kiss on your temple. “Be a good girl and pull my cock out.”

Arousal is clouding your mind, which is why you don’t hesitate to do as he says. You unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants until you see his underwear. Licking your lips, you pull on his waistband while your other hand pulls his dick out.

Heeseung groans deeply as soon as your soft hand touches his hot skin. You’re gawking at it so cutely, and it’s obvious that you can’t look away. He smirks as his cock throbs in your hand.

Your stepdad’s dick is long and girthy. It’s also really fucking pretty—the prettiest one you’ve ever seen. Your mouth waters as you realize that it’s way bigger than Jake’s. The thought of taking it makes your pussy clench in anticipation. Your fingers slowly trail up the prominent veins to tease the leaking head. Fuck. You know it’s going to feel amazing.

“Shit, baby,” Heeseung groans. “Touch me as much as you want. Daddy’s cock is all yours.”

As if to prove his point, his dick twitches in your hand and more precum oozes from his fat tip. You run your fingers through the sticky mess, smearing it along the length as you start to caress the soft skin.

“It’s so big,” you whisper in awe as your clit pulses with need.

Heeseung groans and squeezes you into his side. The hand that’s hanging off your shoulder slowly trails down your body until it’s slipping inside your loose sweats. Heeseung’s cock leaks steadily as he goes to cup your hot cunt. Your stepdad shoves his face into your neck and groans. His lips drag against your skin as you use your hand to work his dick.

“Is this all for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whine as you start to roll your hips into his hand to get some friction. “Never been so wet before.”

Heeseung almost cums from your words alone. He pulls back to watch you grind your needy pussy into his palm. Your nails dig into his bicep as he presses his hand against you harder. Thet soft moans you’re letting out are driving him crazy. He bucks his hips into your hand, and you take the hint and move your hand faster.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my hand like a good little girl. My good girl,” he growls.

“Daddy,” you whine as your juices start to wet his hand.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grunts after kissing your cheek sweetly. “So fucking good for me.”

Slowly, he slips his hand out of your sweats and orders you to pull them off. Your core burns with need as you get off the couch to do as he says.

“Come here.”

Heeseung pulls you into his lap so your back is against his chest. He holds your hips as his soft lips brush against your ear.

“Take your panties off.”

You arch your hips up and slide your underwear down your legs until they’re all the way off. Heeseung groans when he sees your bare pussy. Your stepdad hooks your legs over thighs so your pussy is spread and on display for him. He whispers a quiet be good before he slaps his hand on your sensitive clit. You cry out when he spanks your cunt again.

“You like getting your pussy slapped, don’t you, little girl?”

Your toes are curling in your socks as you arch back into Heeseung, grinding down on the dick you feel against your ass. He starts to fuck it between your plump cheeks, groaning at how filthy you are. He fucking loves it.

“Yes, daddy,” you gasp out wantonly. “I love it when you slap my little pussy.”

Heeseung smirks and gives your swollen clit another stinging slap. Your body jerks like you’ve been electrocuted, and you moan loudly from the tingling feeling coursing through your pussy. The smacks keep coming, each harder than the last. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your stepdad keeps spanking your throbbing pussy. At this point, you can’t do anything other than moan.

Heeseung stops his movements to slip his middle and ring fingers into your tight hole. You’re completely submerged in pleasure as you feel his wedding band glide against your slick walls.

“Fuck, little girl,” Heeseung laughs delightedly. “Even your mom doesn’t get this wet for me. You’re just a perfect little slut, aren’t you?”

You clench hard around his fingers at those words. Your hips are rolling, grinding your ass into his wet cock while you fuck his fingers deeper into your pussy.

“Oh?” Heeseung’s voice gets deeper. “You like hearing that your stepdad likes you better than your mom?”

You’re moaning again as you dizzily nod your head. “Yes, fuck. Tell me how you like my pussy better than hers, daddy.”

Heeseung moans, fucking his cock faster against your plump ass. “Shit, baby. You know you’re better than your mom. Ever since she introduced me to you, I knew you were better.”

“Daddy!” You moan loudly as his fingers continue to plunge into you at a quick pace.

Heeseung feels you tightening around his fingers. Your cunt is so hot and tight, and he knows it’ll feel better wrapped around his cock. He starts to plant wet kisses on your neck, wanting to push you over the edge.

“You gonna cum for daddy, baby?”

Those words are enough to get you to do just that. The coil in your stomach snaps as you cum around your stepdad’s long fingers.

Seeing you cum on his lap helps Heeseung reach his own climax. He cums with a groan of your name, grinding his cock into your soft ass as he releases his thick cum on your lower back. Your stepdad slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy with a lewd wet sound before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them. His moan makes your core throb all over again.

“So fucking sweet.”

Before you can say anything in response, Heeseung’s ringtone cuts through the silence. He tugs you closer as he goes to answer the phone. You’re too distracted to listen to what’s being said, but you come to your senses when Heeseung grumbles something about heading to the airport right away.

“You’re leaving?”

It kills Heeseung to hear how vulnerable you sound. He buries his face in your neck again, scenting you to reassure you that him leaving has nothing to do with what just happened.

“The clients want to meet sooner than planned. I have to go.”

You can feel his pout against your skin, and your heart thrums with fondness. Heeseung has always been unexpectedly cute in your eyes. That’s why it was so easy for you to give into him.

“Okay,” you relax against him. “I understand.”

As always, you’re a perfect angel through and through. Heeseung presses a soft kiss to your neck before he helps you stand. Immediately, he helps you clean up before going upstairs to shower. He really doesn’t want to leave, but he can’t act irresponsibly no matter how badly he wants to. And now that he knows you want him just as much as he wants you, he’ll have plenty of time to make you all his.

Once Heeseung has all his things, he goes downstairs to find you waiting for him. He gathers you in his arms, not really wanting to let you go. When he pulls back, he gives you a passionate kiss to remind you that he doesn’t regret what’s happened between you two.

“When you get back, can we play some more?” You ask hopefully.

Heeseung grunts softly at the imagery he’s creating in his head. “Of course, baby. I’m all yours now.”

Coming back home from a long and tiring business trip isn’t anything new for Heeseung. What is new is the excitement he has to get home. He knows you’ll be waiting for him, and he can’t wait to show you how much he’s missed you.

The excitement he feels is ruined completely when he gets off his plane and finds his wife waiting for him. It’s an unpleasant surprise, but she doesn’t realize just how badly she ruined the day. Heeseung almost wishes he would’ve asked for a divorce before he boarded the plane. At least then he wouldn’t have had to deal with her right when he got back home.

“How was the trip, honey?”

“Fine,” Heeseung’s voice is curt, but once again, his wife seems impervious to his obvious attitude.

He doesn’t ask about her trip, but she tells him anyway. She talks all the way back to the house as if Heeseung is actually listening to her. In reality, he’s an expert in blocking her out at this point. This time is way easier since all his thoughts are filled with nothing but you.

The house is quiet when they arrive, and Heeseung barely holds back from calling your name. Your mom is obviously not interested in seeing you because she suggests going out for dinner after they go upstairs and put their things away. He doesn’t feel bad for turning down her suggestion with the excuse of being jet lagged.

As soon as Heeseung and his wife get on the second floor, the overwhelming scent of an omega in heat hits them. Heeseung’s cock comes alive instantly, getting completely hard in less than a minute. Without waiting for his wife to follow, he goes directly toward your room where the pungent smell is coming from.

Heeseung throws your door open without bothering to knock. What he finds is devastating to him. You’re laying in the middle of the large bed in nothing but a large shirt, eyes screwed shut as you tremble in pain. The thin sheen of sweat lining your forehead is evidence that you’ve been in heat for a while now.

Your eyes slowly open and settle directly on your stepdad. They stare at him before slowly trailing down to the large bulge in his pants. You lick your lips, and it takes everything in Heeseung not to rip your clothes off and take you right then and there.

“Y/N!” His wife’s angry voice brings him out of his debased fantasy. “Why the hell are you in heat?”

Heeseung looks back at his wife with an incredulous glare. So many things are going through his mind, but one question keeps coming up. Why is she so angry over something that’s natural?

“Sorry, mom,” you say through a pant. “I ran out of the suppressants you gave me.”

Before you can continue, Heeseung turns to your mother with a murderous look on his face. “You gave her suppressants?”

An omega taking suppressants is practically unheard of since they cause so many health issues. The drugs are practically poison, and the fact that your own mother was giving them to you made him sick to his stomach. It makes him think back to the first time he met you. Now he understands why she was so determined to hide what she was so insistent on giving you.

“They help her,” his wife says frantically. “But that’s not the point right now. She has to leave so her heat doesn’t affect you.”

Heeseung growls under his breath. Over his dead body will you leave his house looking and smelling how you do.

Your mom turns her nasty glare back on you. “Call Jake and have him pick you up. I’m sure he won’t have any problem helping you through your heat—”

“Get out,” Heeseung spits, barely controlling his rage.

How dare his wife suggest that you ask another man to help you through your heat? No one except him is ever going to see you like this.

“What?” His wife’s stunned expression only makes him growl impatiently.

“I’m going to help Y/N through her heat.”

Your mom’s eyes widen in anger, and she glares over at you like what’s happening is your fault. Normally, you’d feel guilty or anxious about upsetting your mom, but the pain isn’t letting you think straight. You need Heeseung’s cock, and you don’t care if it’s going to hurt your mom in the process.

Heeseung ignores his wife and goes to you. He sits down on the bed next to you before pulling you on his lap. A soft moan of relief cuts through the tense silence as his hard bulge presses up right against where you need him the most. You feel so hot all over, and your head is clouded with such potent arousal that you forget your mom is still standing in the room until Heeseung looks at her over your shoulder.

“I told you to get out,” he growls. A mean smirk takes over his face. “Unless you want to watch me knot your daughter.”

You whimper and roll your hips into Heeseung. The fact that he’s saying he’s going to give you his knot is making you gush with more slick. It excites you that he’s going to help you, and to think he doesn’t care to hide it from your moan makes a deep satisfaction settle inside you.

His wife is looking on with tears in her eyes. She’s disgusted and enraged, but she knows no matter what she says or does, Heeseung isn’t going to change his mind.

“It hurts, daddy,” you whine as you grind your pussy on his clothed dick, no longer thinking to spare any of your mom’s feelings. “Want you to make me feel better.”

You swivel your hips and press down harder onto his hard cock. With a throaty groan, Heeseung grabs your ass to help you bounce on his bulge. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s going to give you exactly what you need.”

His voice dips into a low moan when you lean forward to lick and bite at the sensitive spot on his neck. You feel his cock twitch and kick against your panty clad pussy, and it makes you whine.

Your mom flinches when she sees Heeseung’s glare from over your shoulder. It’s a silent command for her to get out, and she finally does. She doesn’t get far, only being able to take a few steps out of your room before she collapses on the floor with a quiet sob.

“Fuck, little girl. Couldn’t wait until your mom was out of the room, huh?” His laugh is cruel, but it only turns you on.

“Don’t care,” you whine before leaning in to smash your mouth against his. “Just want your cock.”

You gently nip his bottom lip before messily forcing your tongue into his mouth. There’s a desperation you’ve never felt before as you grind down on his thick cock. The fact that he’s leaking with enough precum to stain his pants is driving you more insane. You keep rocking your hips so your clit rubs against the rough material of his jeans.

“Yeah?” Heeseung groans when you pull away. He continues to help you grind your messy pussy on his bulge. “You need daddy to stuff your little pussy?”

Your eyes roll back when he dry humps your pussy slowly. He’s grinding the thick outline of his cock right against your wet slit to get you more riled up than you already are.

Eventually, Heeseung decides he needs to prep you. Because as badly as he wants you, he can’t forget that this is your first real heat. So, he pulls you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed.

“I need to taste you properly, sweetheart. Last time wasn’t enough.”

A tingle goes straight to your pussy when he pulls your large shirt off and tosses it across your room. Heeseung buries his nose between your legs, sniffing across your soaked panties. The fabric sticks to your pussy lips, allowing your stepdad to lick at your clit easily.

“Oh, daddy!” you moan, hands reaching down to tangle your hands in his hair.

He grunts and laps up the slick leaking down your thighs before roughly rips your underwear off to lap at your leaking hole.

“You taste so fucking good, little girl,” his muffled voice causes vibrations that make your toes curl. “Fuck. I could eat your little cunt all day.”

“Daddy, please,” you grind against his mouth, eyes locked on his blown out gaze.

He hums and the vibrations make your clit tingle as more slick drips onto his tongue. The thick muscle slides in and out of your hole before he licks his way back up to your clit. You cry out wantonly when your stepdad softly sucks the swollen bud into his mouth. Your thighs tremble as his tongue swirls around your pudgy clit before he starts to gently suckle on it.

“It feels so fucking good,” you moan loudly, thighs falling open as far as they can go.

Heeseung growls, tongue fucking your pussy until sloppy wet sounds fill the room. His hands trail up the underside of your thighs to push your legs to your chest. You moan when he pulls back to spit on your cunt. He quickly dives back in, burying his face in your soaked pussy. Another loud cry tumbles out of you when he starts to lick and suck on your sensitive nub.

“Such a sweet pussy,” Heeseung moans.

His tongue languidly laps at your wet folds, eyes locked with yours from where he’s lying between your legs. Your stepdad’s hands come up to the inside of your thighs and press down, leaving you spread open for his hungry mouth. The sight of his beautiful face buried in your cunt makes you drip with more slick. Heeseung keeps licking into your slick hole like a starved man, desperate to not waste one drop of your sweet essence. You’re crying out for him as your hips roll into his mouth. He pulls away slightly to spit into your pussy again before fucking his spit into your clenching hole.

You moan and pull on his hair. The dark strands are wrapped around your fingers to help guide his face to where you want it most. Heeseung smirks against you and starts to press wet, open mouthed kisses on your throbbing clit. He sucks the swollen bud into his mouth and flicks his tongue against it over and over again. Your stepdad hums into your pussy, suckling on your clit softly as he indulges in your sweet taste.

“I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum, daddy!" you moan loudly.

“Cum all over my face, sweetheart. Show daddy how good he makes you feel,” your stepdad says before he presses his face between your folds to suck your clit back into his mouth.

“Daddy!” You moan loudly as you cum.

You jolt as your slick completely coats his lower jaw and slowly starts to drip down his chin. He looks so hot covered in your juices that another wave of arousal hits you with full force.

“Messy fucking girl,” Heeseung grunts as he starts to take off his clothes.

Your mouth waters when you see his big cock slap his lower abdomen. Since he’s been gone, you’ve been dreaming about that pretty dick every night.

Heeseung goes to kiss you roughly, eagerly shoving his tongue into your mouth. Tasting yourself makes you arch up into his body. Fuck. You’re so turned on and desperate that you feel like you might die if he doesn’t shove his cock inside you soon.

Seeing you so needy makes Heeseung pull back slightly to stroke his cock. Your eyes follow his movements, and you lick your lips when you see the amount of precum beading at the tip. With a deep groan, your stepdad notches his leaking tip against your clenching hole. Heeseung groans as he glides the fat head up your slit to smack it against your clit.

The feeling of the hot skin of his cock pulsing against your pussy makes you whine desperately. He keeps dragging his dripping cock against your throbbing cunt repeatedly, loving how you’re squirming against him. Teasing you is everything he imagined it would be, and he makes a note to do it often from now on. Heeseung thrusts his hips to rub his cock through the slick dripping from your cunt, moaning at how easily it coats the length of his cock.

“Look how deep daddy’s cock is gonna go, baby.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it.

Heeseung uses his thumb to press his tip down against your skin as your unfocused eyes take in how far his cock will reach inside your needy cunt. It pulses and throbs, and more slick leaks out of you.

“Oh god, daddy. It’s too big,” you mewl even though the thought of having his monster cock inside you turns you on to no end.

With an endeared chuckle, he pulls his cock back to slide it across your pudgy bud. The bulbous head grinds against your sensitive clit until you’re whining and dripping more slick onto your sheets.

“Your pretty pussy’s just small, sweetheart,” he coos softly before he licks a broad stripe up your neck. “But don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna stretch out your cute little cunt so you can take my knot.”

Those filthy words make you whine and buck your hips desperately.

“Ready to take this cock, little girl?”

Without waiting for an answer, he slips the head of his dick inside your clenching hole. He presses into your pussy slowly, and it makes you moan wantonly as you instantly feel some of your pain fade. Your moan breaks off into a gasp when you feel the burning stretch.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be tight,” he laughs in delight. “A tight little pussy for daddy.”

You dig your nails into his back, eyes rolling into your skull as his girthy cock stretches your cunt. “It’s too big, daddy.”

“Too big?” Heeseung repeats as he gently bites your neck. “I guess daddy’s just going to have to train you to take his big cock then, huh?”

With that, he sinks his cock another inch into your clenching hole. Your walls clench down on his dick and make his hips stutter. His veiny cock feels so fucking good that you that the unbearable pain fades instantly. You feel so full and stretched out, but you want more. Your body reacts by getting wetter, easing the way for Heeseung to bully his cock further into your pussy until he bottoms out.

“I’m gonna spend all week training you, little girl,” he promises. “Daddy’s staying buried in this cute little pussy until you’re all nice and bred.”

You moan high in your throat, walls clamping down around Heeseung’s thick cock as you cum hard.

“Oh, fuck me,” he laughs, extremely pleased. “You like that? Like that I’m gonna breed this sweet pussy all week?”

He pulls his cock halfway out then slowly sinks back into your wet and willing body. You mewl as your cream coats his cock.

“Yes, daddy! Want you to stuff me full all week long!”

Heeseung starts fucking his cock deeper into your pussy, eager to give you what you want. He reaches between your bodies and begins to rub and pinch your clit. “I’m gonna fuck you through your heat, sweetheart. Gonna cream this pussy over and over again.”

You’re letting out filthy moans like your mom isn’t right outside your room crying her eyes out because you’re fucking her husband. Not that you care. All you can think about is the mind-numbing pleasure you’re receiving.

“Cum on my cock again, baby,” Heeseung groans as he spears his cock into your sloppy hole. “I want you to squeeze me with that hot little cunt while I cum in you.”

You cry out loudly as his leaking tips rams into your g-spot. Your stepdad’s girthy cock is rutting into your squelching cunt mercilessly, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. Heeseung’s fingers circle your clit until your pussy is clenching and spasming around him again.

“Are you gonna give me your cum, daddy?” Your eyes shine with anticipation. “Your knot?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna give you a nice hot load. Then, I’m gonna knot you so it takes. That’s how much I love you.”

His words make you gush more slick, eyes rolling back as the musky scent of sex fills the room. You cry out, feeling feral all over again.

“Fuck yes!” You scream in pleasure. “Cream my little pussy, daddy! Want it so fucking bad!”

“Yeah? Then let’s make it easier.”

Without letting you answer, Heeseung pulls out of you with a lewd squelching sound and flips you onto your hands and knees. One of his hands presses down on your back while the other grips your hip to raise your ass up. Your stepdad’s big cock slides into your hot cunt much easier in this position. He bottoms out with a loud groan as you claw at your sheets.

Mewling, you press your ass backwards, working more of Heeseung’s big cock into your dripping pussy. You feel your slick dripping down your thighs and coat his heavy balls.

“Want you to knot me,” you slur, nails digging into your plush bedding. “Want your knot, daddy!”

He growls and starts to slam his cock into your sloppy pussy, making you cry out from the rough movement. Your walls clamp and pulse around his fat dick as he keeps spearing you open. The way you moan and mewl for him only makes him fuck you harder.

“Good girl,” he groans loudly, making you shiver all over. “My good little girl.”

“Daddy,” you whimper as your pussy walls flutter around his thick length.

Heeseung’s cock throbs inside you. He pulls out halfway before roughly slamming his dick back into your sopping wet hole.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says as he squeezes the globes of your ass. Your eyes roll back as his fingers dig into your skin. “This perfect pussy was made for me. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes!” You gasp out in agreement as Heeseung pounds your cunt hard. “This little pussy is all yours, daddy!”

Heeseung moans loudly and spanks your bouncing ass. You scream, pussy fluttering and pulsing around his dick as your third orgasm takes you both by surprise.

“Good girl,” he coos, grabbing the fat of your ass with both hands again. “Such a good fucking girl. Gripping me with your tight pussy and working for my knot like a good little slut.”

Your body trembles as Heeseung keeps thrusting his fat cock right against your g-spot. His fat tip slams against your cervix, and you can’t stop crying out in pleasure.

“Cum one more time for me, pretty girl,” your stepdad roughly spanks your ass again, making you whine. “Just give me one more, and I’ll knot this pretty pussy so you’re nice and full. Don’t you want that? For your hot cunt to be bred until you’re stuffed to the brim?”

“Please, daddy!” You cry out, ass bouncing back against his rough thrusts. “Want your knot! Want it so fucking bad!”

One of his hands slides down your body to circle the swollen bundle of nerves coated in your slick. Your pussy clamps down on his dick as he softly teases your clit.

“That’s it, baby.” Heeseung hunches over your back to kiss your neck. His tongue laps against your sweaty skin right over the sensitive spot that’s meant to take his mark. “I feel you getting tighter, baby. Cream all over my cock.”

As Heeseung keeps hammering into your pussy, his fingers circle and tease across your pudgy bud until one last thrust has your orgasm whiting out your vision. Your ears ring so loud you don’t even hear as your stepdad curses against your neck while he snaps his hips against your ass before burying his cock deep in your spasming pussy.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum,” he pants into your neck. “Take my knot. Fuck. Take it.”

You cry out loudly. That desperate noise has Heeseung fucking his cock deep inside you until he cums.

“That’s it,” he’s groaning and panting as he licks at your neck. “Milk my cock, little girl.”

You wail when his knot locks you together, stretching your cunt even further as you feel his hot thick cum spill inside you. Ropes and ropes of his hot seed spill into your pussy, and you love that his knot is keeping it stuffed inside you.

“So good for me,” Heeseung groans, hands smoothing over your sides and back. He starts to scent you. “Such a perfect omega. So fucking perfect.”

You sigh in content, body going limp as Heeseung continues to fill your pussy with load after load. You’ve heard that alphas cum more than usual when helping an omega in heat, but you didn’t expect it to be this much. Not that you’re complaining. You’re taking every drop he gives you with a blissful smile on your face

Your stepdad grinds his dick inside your pussy until the steady stream of cum stops filling you. He slowly shifts your bodies until you’re both able to lay on your sides comfortably. Heeseung buries his nose in your neck as his hands start to caress your body.

“Feels nice,” you mumble, relaxing even further against him.

“Good.” He says before he kisses your neck.

You mewl when he keeps pressing soft kisses on your neck and dragging his teeth over a sensitive spot that no one else has dared to touch. Heeseung keeps you two in the same position until his knot slowly deflates.

You whine when he slowly pulls out. Heeseung watches with dark eyes as his cum leaks out of your pussy. He uses two of his fingers to scoop it up and smear it across your clit. You mewl as slick starts to drip out of you again. Heeseung takes the opportunity to shove your legs open and rub your clit until your body arches off the bed. A mix of slick and cum gushes from your pussy as you climax again.

“Let me lick that pussy, baby,” Heeseung murmurs as he starts kissing his way down your body. “Want to suck on that swollen little bud until you’re creaming my tongue.”

“Fuck,” your whine is high-pitched and needy. “Do it, daddy. I want your mouth on my pussy.”

He groans and sloppily kisses your slit in thanks. When he pulls back a bit, you see his lips coated with your juices. Your pussy pulses and clenches in eagerness.

“So messy, sweetheart.”

With that, your stepdad pushes your thighs against the bed to keep you spread for him. He repeatedly plants wet kisses on your pulsing clit, worshipping you until you’re writhing against him. His teeth scrape and nip your pudgy nub as his dark eyes watch you carefully.

Heeseung spanks your pussy when you keep squirming. He smirks when you jolt with a loud cry. Slick pours out of you, filling the room with your lovely scent. It’s your body’s way of signaling that it’s ready to be knotted again.

“What a needy little girl,” he coos as he blows air on your soaked cunt. “Just desperate for me to clean up this sloppy pussy, hm?”

“Yes, yes!” You moan, pussy throbbing with need. “Eat my pussy, daddy. Lick me clean.”

“Dirty little slut,” Heeseung groans before he slaps your wet cunt again. “I’m gonna stay here with you all night. Keep my tongue buried in your tight hole until you squirt all over me.”

“Fuck. Yes, yes!” you moan as you arch your hips up to entice him. “Let me cum all over your face, daddy!”

Heeseung smirks and buries his face in your cunt to give you what you want.

You lose complete track of time as Heeseung makes you cum on his tongue over and over again. After the second orgasm, you start squirting like he wants. He’s so delighted that he keeps fucking his tongue into you, indulging himself in your addicting taste. You’re happy to lay there and let him eat your pussy until you’re nothing more than a gushing mess.

“Good girl,” Heeseung moans into your cunt, his face completely drenched in your slick.

You mewl in response, hoping he’s had enough fun playing with your pussy to give you his cock. He flips you over and arches your back so your ass and pussy are on full display for him. He groans when he sees your soaked pussy and thighs.

“Hee,” you whimper desperately. “Want your cock.”

“Spread those legs for me, baby. Show daddy that sloppy pussy.”

With a loud whine, you bend forward more and spread your thighs apart further to give him a better view of your holes. Your pussy is dripping with slick, and Heeseung commits the filthy sight to memory.

“Daddy,” you whimper. “Please.”

Your stepdad lets out a deep laugh before his hands slide down your back to cup your ass and spread you open even more. Heeseung groans deeply.

“God, baby. I’m never gonna get tired of seeing this hot cunt gushing for me,” he tells you with a pleased hum. “I’m gonna breed this little pussy all night.”

“Please,” you beg through a moan, pressing your ass back against him. “Want it so bad, daddy.”

Heeseung rubs his cock against your soaked pussy lips, gathering your wetness all over his length. He licks his lips, loving how you feel against him. His cock throbs because he can tell how badly you’re aching to be fucked and knotted and stuffed full of cum.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re gonna get my knot. I’m gonna stuff your little pussy to the brim.” Heeseung promises before he slams his cock into your clenching heat.

Your moan is loud as he completely bottoms out into your needy pussy. Heeseung doesn’t let you adjust and pulls all the way out before slamming back inside. Your stepdad’s instincts completely take over, his only goal being to knot and breed your pussy.

You cry out when you feel your cunt stretching around his dick. He groans and drapes his chest across your back, hips slamming against your ass. The lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the room. You whine loudly, turned on from the fact that your mom can hear all the filthy noises.

“I’m gonna keep you knotted for hours, make sure it takes,” Heeseung groans before he starts to nip at your jawline,

“Fuck!” You mewl wantonly. “I want it, daddy! Want you to breed my pussy so fucking bad!”

Your legs start to shake when Heeseung reaches around to play with your clit. He bites down on your neck and starts spearing his fat cock into your clenching hole. He fucks you deep and fast, his slowly expanding knot brushing your entrance with every rock of his hips. You can only lay there and take it, moaning and whining in pleasure as he fucks your pussy. His cock pounds your soaked cunt, thick head knocking against your cervix.

“Good girl,” he groans, biting at your ear. “Good girls deserve to have their cute little pussies bred, don’t they, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” you cry as he rubs your clit faster. “I’m gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cream your fat knot.”

“That’s it, little girl,” he keeps rubbing fast circles on your swollen bud. “Cum all over me. Show me how much you want me to fill your pretty pussy.”

Heeseung starts to bite and suck on your neck as you moan for him. His hips snap against yours as he roughly fucks you into the mattress. With every thrust, his balls slap against your slippery clit until he’s pulling another orgasm from your exhausted body.

“Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had,” Heeseung groans, pulling out to slam back in, dick bullying into your swollen, fluttering walls. “Goddamn. You’re so fucking tight. My little girl just loves her stepdad’s dick so much.”

“I fucking love it, daddy!” You cry out. “Love your big cock so much!”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm overtakes your senses. Heeseung groans as your cream stains his cock. Your body trembles as your pussy milks his dick. His hips piston against your ass, dragging your orgasm out until you spiral into a second one. Your stepdad groans, hips pumping his cock into your dripping cunt harshly.

Heeseung buries his cock deep in your spasming hole, knot locking you together as his cum floods your cunt, breeding your pussy full. He groans your name as he cums, walls milking him to shoot hot rope after rope of hot cum inside your little pussy. Pleasure consumes your entire body as you feel each spurt of his thick cum pumping into your cunt.

“Taking it so good, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tongue licking the sweat beading at your skin. “Such a perfect little slut.”

You hum dazedly, body sinking down across your bed as you feel each spurt of his thick seed filling your pussy.

“So full, daddy,” you mewl, legs shaking as he softly ruts his knot further into you.

That’s how you spend the rest of your night. Being knotted by your stepdad over and over again until you can’t handle anymore.

It’s almost dawn by the time your mom hears all the filthy moans and groans from your room stop. By now, she’s ran her tears dry, and she thinks she might not be able to cry for a long time. With a heavy heart, she gets up from her bed and walks to your room. The heartbreaking sight of you laying on her husband’s chest, sleeping peacefully as he caresses your head is like a breaking point.

There’s a blanket draped over your bodies, but she can te you’re both still naked. She feels sick at the thought of her husband’s cock still being lodged inside you.

Heeseung turns his dark eyes on her, not at all affected by her puffy, bloodshot eyes. Her pitiful face only makes him feel disgusted.

“You’re not coming to bed?” Her voice is hoarse and weak.

“I’m still knotted to your daughter.”

A lone tear slips down her cheek.

“Heeseung—”

“You should leave. Y/N’s heat is more intense because of how long it was suppressed.” Heeseung’s voice is cold. “We can discuss the divorce after I finish helping her through it.”

His wife sobs, but he doesn’t feel sorry. He can’t. Especially not now that he’s finally had you in the way he wants. She turns and walks away from him like a zombie. He groans when you shift against him in your sleep. Your movements tug gently on his knot, and it makes his cock throb and twitch in need.

Heeseung hums in content. When you get up, he’s going to knot you all over again. Except this time, he’ll do it on his own bed since that’s where you’ll be sleeping soon.

As soon as your mom gets out of his house, he’s going to have you take her place. No matter how badly she begs, Heeseung won’t change his mind because he knows that there’s no getting rid of this feeling he has for you, and he doesn’t care what he has to do to keep you at his side forever.

#cina🌙: tbr list

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cinnamon-won · 4 months ago

Text

THE TUTOR —LEE HEESEUNG ᝰ.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS — being a broke college student meant doing whatever it took to survive, even if that meant lying your way into a tutoring gig you weren’t qualified for. when lee heeseung, campus golden boy and star athlete, mistook you for his assigned tutor, you saw an opportunity—he was willing to pay, and you needed the money. easy cash, right? except there was one problem: he was already acing the class. turns out, he just wanted an excuse to spend time with you. now, you’re stuck in a fake tutoring arrangement, trying (and failing) to convince yourself that his dumb little smirks and unnecessary close proximity aren’t affecting you.

PAIRING — lee heeseung x broke-college-student-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, yunjin & eunchae from le sserafim, wonyoung from ive)

GENRE(S) — written, college au, fake tutor au, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, comedy, and slight crack.

WARNING(S) — swearing, broke student struggles, scamming (for survival purposes), heeseung being an annoying flirt, your friends clowning you, lots of academic bullshitting, and mild secondhand embarrassment.

WORDCOUNT — 10k

you had no idea how you ended up in this situation. honestly, you were just a broke college student trying to make some extra cash by tutoring, and now you were stuck in a "mess" of a situation with lee heeseung—campus golden boy, star athlete, and the last person you thought you'd end up spending this much time with.

it all started in the library, where you had been buried under a mountain of textbooks and assignments. you were just minding your own business, trying to squeeze in as much studying as you could before the next exam, when heeseung walked up to you with a confused look on his face.

"hey, are you my tutor?" he asked, looking at you like you were the answer to his prayers.

you blinked. “your tutor?”

“yeah, you’re supposed to help me with my chemistry class, right?” he said, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper.

the paper had your name on it. assigned tutor.

you looked at him for a long second, unsure how to respond. in that moment, your brain made a split-second decision.

no, this wasn’t right. you weren’t his tutor.

but then again, you were broke. and he was paying.

so, instead of correcting him, you smiled and said, “yep. that’s me.”

heeseung grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “great! let’s get started, then.”

you immediately regretted your decision.

and so, here you were.

heeseung was the "last" person you expected to be in your tutoring group. you knew his type—popular, charismatic, and completely "unbothered" by anything that had to do with studying. you weren’t even sure how he managed to get into college in the first place with his terrible grades.

he sat down across from you, all smiles, like he didn’t have a care in the world. meanwhile, you were scrambling to figure out how to get him to actually pay attention to what you were saying. you’d barely gotten into your lesson before he started yawning.

“is this really necessary?” he asked, his tone light and lazy.

you glanced up, trying your best to suppress a frustrated sigh. “yes, heeseung. chemistry is a requirement for your major.”

he looked at you, completely unfazed. “i’m pretty sure i can just ask my tutor to give me the answers.”

you stared at him, blinking. “i *am* your tutor.”

he smirked. “well, then you’re not doing a very good job.”

you couldn’t help the way your eyebrow twitched at his words. why was this so difficult?

the more you tried to get him focused, the more distracted he became. you found yourself flipping through the textbook and pointing out formulas that made sense to you, while he sat back and played with his pen. his lack of attention was grating on your nerves, but you refused to let him see how annoyed you were.

“heeseung, focus. we need to finish this chapter today,” you said through clenched teeth.

he glanced up at you lazily, a playful grin forming on his lips. “you’re kind of cute when you’re serious.”

you froze. "what?" you couldn’t even process the words. sure, you knew he was a flirt, but hearing him say that made your heart skip a beat. you swallowed, trying to shake it off. this was heeseung, after all. you couldn’t let him get under your skin.

he leaned forward, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “i’ll try my best, tutor,” he teased, his voice dropping into a teasing tone.

you gave him a tight smile, trying to regain control of the situation. “let’s get to work.”

it was incredible how little heeseung actually knew about chemistry. each time you tried to explain a concept, he’d stare at you like you were speaking a foreign language. but it wasn’t just that—he was charming in the most infuriating way. his innocent questions and half-smiles made you question your focus. you had to admit, the guy was cute, and his charm was practically endless.

“so, like, what does this even do?” he asked, pointing to the periodic table in front of you.

you tried your best to stay professional, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “this is the atomic structure. see, each element has its own number of protons, neutrons, and electrons. you need to understand the structure in order to comprehend chemical reactions.”

heeseung nodded as if he understood, but the amused glint in his eyes told you otherwise. “right, right. so, can we just…skip this and get to the part where you help me ace the exam?” he asked, his grin wide.

“heeseung,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “we need to understand the basics first. there’s no way you’ll get through the exam without knowing this.”

he just tilted his head to the side, his hair falling perfectly around his face. “but you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

your eyes widened in disbelief, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “stop distracting me. focus on the material,” you snapped, though you could feel your face heating up despite your best efforts to remain composed.

it was a constant cycle of distractions, laughter, and trying to drag him back into the lesson. every time you thought you’d made progress, he’d throw you off course with a casual comment or a playful smirk. it felt like you were running in circles.

the more time you spent with heeseung, the more you started to notice things about him. little things. like how he’d always brush his hair out of his eyes when he was concentrating—well, pretending to concentrate, anyway. or how his smile could light up the entire room, even when he was clearly being a little brat.

it was a slow burn, but you were starting to realize that heeseung wasn’t just the charming golden boy you thought he was. yeah, he was annoying as hell, but there was something more beneath the surface. he was smart—really smart, when he put his mind to it. you’d seen it when he actually listened to what you were saying. it was frustrating, to say the least. here you were, trying to keep him focused, but at the same time, you were starting to feel a little… distracted yourself.

“okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture. “i think i’m getting it.”

“really?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “you understand how to balance chemical equations now?”

he shrugged. “more or less. but honestly, i think i’d understand better if you gave me some extra help.”

you crossed your arms, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “extra help?” you repeated, your voice a little too sarcastic for your liking.

he leaned forward again, a devilish grin curling on his lips. “yeah. like, you know, help outside of studying. maybe, we could—” he broke off when he saw the look on your face.

“no,” you said flatly.

“aww, come on,” he teased, his grin only widening. “what are you so afraid of?”

you felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed it down. “nothing. i’m not afraid of anything,” you muttered, turning your attention back to your notes.

he leaned back again, clearly entertained by your reaction. “you know, you’re not as tough as you think.”

you didn’t know if you should laugh or just throw something at him. instead, you went with a fake smile. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he just laughed. “hey, no need to be so harsh. i’m just trying to help.”

“you’re trying to distract me,” you shot back.

“well, it’s working.”

the next time you met with heeseung for tutoring, something felt different. maybe it was the way he greeted you, with a casual “hey, ready to teach me something new today?” or maybe it was the way his usual teasing seemed to have softened. whatever it was, it made you more aware of how much you were starting to look forward to these sessions.

“we’re going over reactions today,” you said, trying to focus. “this is where things get a little trickier, but you can handle it, right?”

heeseung flashed you a grin, already making himself comfortable in his chair. “i’m ready. as long as you’re not as serious as last time.”

you shot him a look. “i’m always serious.”

he winked at you, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “seriously, though, pay attention.”

he was paying attention—or at least, he was pretending to. as you began explaining the basics of chemical reactions, you noticed how he watched you. his usual playful glint in his eyes was still there, but there was something else now—something more sincere. heeseung wasn’t just here to mess around. he was actually trying, and it threw you off.

“so, what happens when—” you stopped mid-sentence, realizing he wasn’t just looking at you but listening.

“when an element reacts with another, the atoms rearrange to form a compound,” he finished for you.

you blinked, surprised. “wait. you actually got that right?”

heeseung leaned back, a smug look on his face. “of course. i’m not a total idiot, you know.”

“well, you’ve been acting like one lately,” you shot back, but even you could hear the hint of affection in your voice.

heeseung’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, the playful energy between you two seemed to fade. “guess I’m not as bad as you thought.”

you weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you focused back on your notes. “let’s just get through this, okay?”

heeseung’s grin returned, but now, there was a sense of warmth behind it. “yeah. we’ll make a great team.”

you weren’t sure why, but those words made your heart race.

the sessions with heeseung weren’t just about chemistry anymore. they were about you and him. the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much he liked to poke fun at you. but at the same time, he made you feel like you actually mattered. and god, that was frustrating. you were supposed to be the one in control here—not him.

so when he slid into the seat next to you one afternoon, throwing an arm across the back of your chair, you couldn’t help but feel a little too aware of him.

“ready to learn?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

you tried to act unaffected, but there was a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t ignore. “we’re not here to talk about my learning skills, heeseung,” you said coolly, flipping open your notes.

he leaned closer, his voice lowering in that teasing way that always seemed to get under your skin. “you know, if you weren’t so good at teaching, i’d probably just be failing by now.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you say that now, but you wouldn’t even be passing if you weren’t such a good student,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

heeseung chuckled, clearly unfazed. “oh, so you admit it? i’m actually a great student.”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “i think you like it when i flatter myself.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i think you’re insufferable.”

but even as you said it, you couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

the silence stretched for a moment, and for once, heeseung didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

you hated how that made your stomach twist.

“you really don’t like me, do you?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than usual.

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. sure, you hated his teasing and his constant jokes, but something about him made you want to keep going. to keep being with him.

“i don’t know,” you said slowly. “maybe i do. maybe i don’t. you’re a pain.”

heeseung’s grin softened, his eyes narrowing playfully. “i think you like me, just a little.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “don’t push your luck.”

he just laughed, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under your skin. “okay, okay. but i know i’m not as bad as you make me out to be.”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. because deep down, you knew he was right.

the next few days passed by in a blur, with your study sessions becoming more frequent. heeseung had somehow turned into someone you could tolerate way more than you were comfortable admitting. and yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him completely. not in the way he seemed to want you to.

you were walking through the campus courtyard, lost in your own thoughts when you spotted him across the yard, laughing with a group of people. heeseung was a natural when it came to making friends, effortlessly charismatic and always in the center of attention. you hated how much that bothered you. it wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. it was just the fact that you hated how easy it came to him.

as you walked past, you caught his eye, and his expression immediately shifted. he excused himself from his friends and jogged over to you, that cocky grin on his face.

“you’re staring at me again,” he teased, his tone light, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

you blinked, startled. “i was not.”

he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “you were definitely staring at me.”

you cursed inwardly. of course he noticed. “i wasn’t staring. i was just—” you stopped, realizing you had no excuse.

“it’s fine,” he said, a smug look appearing on his face. “i kind of like it when you stare. makes me feel special.”

you shot him a look, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “don’t get ahead of yourself, heeseung. i was not staring. i just… got distracted. okay?”

heeseung just laughed, a low chuckle that sent a strange warmth flooding your chest. “sure, sure. whatever you say.”

you started walking again, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating a little faster. “i have to get to class,” you muttered, already feeling the awkwardness creeping in.

“i’ll walk with you,” he said, falling into step beside you without waiting for an answer. “might as well since i’m already here.”

“you really don’t take a hint, do you?” you teased, but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

heeseung shrugged casually. “nah, not really. i like to make my own rules.”

“clearly,” you muttered under your breath, still not used to how confident he was. it wasn’t just his charisma—it was the way he seemed so sure of himself around you. it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you had no idea how to handle it.

the walk to class was filled with small talk. lighthearted banter, the kind of stuff that made the air between you two feel almost normal—if you could call it that. normal, until he dropped the bombshell.

“so, do you ever think about… us?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, a little more serious than usual.

you stopped in your tracks, your heart racing. “what do you mean?”

heeseung turned to face you, his gaze softening. “i mean… do you think we’re getting along better now?”

you blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “i guess? i don’t know. it’s… weird.”

“yeah, i get it. it’s weird for me too,” he admitted, looking down for a moment. then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he added, “but i’m kinda enjoying it.”

you frowned. “enjoying what? our bickering?”

heeseung smirked. “well, yeah. i mean, it’s fun, isn’t it? but… i also like the times when we don’t fight. when it’s just us, talking.”

you were quiet for a moment, your mind racing. could it be? could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

“heeseung, you’re impossible,” you muttered, though your heart was beating faster now. maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

heeseung stepped closer, that signature cocky grin back on his face. “maybe, but you still like me.”

the following week, your study sessions with heeseung took a sudden turn. instead of the usual quiet library dates, he started dragging you around campus, making you go to random spots to “study.” sometimes it was by the fountain, sometimes near the campus cafe, and once, he even convinced you to sit in the middle of the quad in the grass—in the middle of the day, no less.

“are you sure this is productive?” you asked skeptically, looking around at all the students walking by. the noise was borderline unbearable.

heeseung, however, seemed completely unbothered. he had his headphones in, typing away on his phone, clearly in his own world. “the point of studying is being comfortable. if you’re uncomfortable, you won’t focus. so relax.”

you sighed, dropping your bag onto the grass beside you and following his lead. you hadn’t expected him to turn into this “study guru” who somehow knew all the right ways to study. but maybe it worked. you couldn’t deny that it made you focus better.

“okay, so what are we even doing?” you asked, still unsure how you were supposed to study in the middle of a bustling campus.

heeseung smirked, pulling out a notebook. “well, i figured you could help me with my notes. i’m clearly struggling,” he said with mock sincerity, even though he knew you were the one who had been tutoring him.

you gave him a deadpan look. “struggling, huh? sure. if you say so.”

heeseung flipped the notebook open to a page full of notes and highlighted passages. “help me go over this. i need to make sure i don’t bomb the next quiz.”

as you went over the material with him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was more… attentive than usual. it wasn’t just that he was asking you to explain things. he was genuinely trying to understand. and for once, you weren’t frustrated with him. you found yourself getting lost in the work and even… enjoying the way he listened intently, his focus entirely on what you were saying.

but just as you were getting comfortable, your friend group walked by, and of course, they had to notice you and heeseung sitting together.

“oh, look at this,” yujin teased, clearly amused. “the two study buddies are actually… studying?”

“what are you doing here?” you groaned, trying to hide the slight flush creeping up your neck.

“we’re just passing by,” wonyoung said innocently, but the smirk on her face betrayed her true intentions. she was way too into the idea of you and heeseung spending time together.

“don’t act like you weren’t just checking on us,” heeseung added, eyes twinkling. “you know, we’re not that interesting.”

“oh, we know,” yujin said with a wink. “we just came to make sure you weren’t actually getting along. because we all know you two are at each other’s throats most of the time.”

you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “please, not you guys too.”

wonyoung sat down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “sooo, tell me, how’s the heeseung tutoring going?” she grinned at you, clearly enjoying the chaos she was about to cause.

you shot her a glare. “heeseung is actually doing fine. for once.” you shot him a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t about to do something dumb.

heeseung, however, seemed unfazed. “yeah, i think i’m doing great. i’m just… naturally brilliant,” he said, giving you a mischievous look.

yujin laughed. “oh, right. naturally brilliant. that’s why you needed help in the first place.”

“you’re one to talk, yujin,” you shot back. “how’s your chemistry grade going, huh?”

wonyoung gave a dramatic gasp. “oh no, not the chemistry card,” she said, making a show of clutching her chest. “you didn’t just do that.”

heeseung grinned. “looks like i’m not the only one who’s got an ego problem.”

you rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but laugh along with them. there was something about being surrounded by your friends, even if they were shamelessly teasing you, that felt… nice.

it wasn’t long before the teasing died down, and your friends eventually decided to go grab some lunch. but before they left, wonyoung gave you a knowing smile. “we’ll leave you two alone. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!”

“what?” you exclaimed, almost choking on your own laughter.

yujin threw a wink in your direction. “you know exactly what we mean.”

once they were gone, heeseung looked at you with an unreadable expression. “well, that was… something.”

you blinked, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the first time you felt like it was just the two of you—no teasing, no interruptions. just… him.

“yeah, it was,” you said, clearing your throat. “but, uh, we’re still studying. right?”

heeseung nodded, his usual smirk returning. “yeah, yeah. but… maybe later, we can have a proper study date.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel the need to push him away. maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like this whole study partnership.

the next day, heeseung texted you a little earlier than usual. it wasn’t a huge surprise—he had developed a habit of doing that, whether it was to talk about studying or to joke around. but this time, the message was different.

heeseung: “hey, i was thinking about how much you need a study break. how about we grab lunch later?”

you: “seriously? i’m not a workaholic like you. i do know how to take breaks.”

heeseung: “i beg to differ. you’ve been glued to those books for hours. i can’t let that happen. lunch at 12?”

you stared at the message for a second. it was true that you’d been spending a little too much time with your nose buried in textbooks, but you hadn’t realized anyone was paying attention to it. you thought for a moment, then typed a response.

you: “fine. you win. lunch it is.”

at lunch, the campus was bustling with students, and as usual, heeseung had picked the most random spot to meet up: the food court. it was packed with people from different clubs and groups, but you didn’t mind it. somehow, even in the chaos, you felt like it was just the two of you. heeseung sat across from you, grinning from ear to ear.

“so, what’s on your mind today?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “don’t act like you’re not just using this lunch break to drag me away from studying.”

he chuckled. “okay, okay. maybe i am. but it’s for your own good.”

before you could respond, your friends walked by—yujin, wonyoung, and hong eunchae, all heading toward the smoothie stand.

“oh, look at that,” yujin said loudly. “the lovebirds are having lunch.”

“yujin, shut up,” you groaned, sinking into your seat in embarrassment. “why do you guys always have to tease?”

“it’s fun,” wonyoung said, winking at you both. “you two are adorable. i’m just waiting for the day when you admit you like each other.”

you shot wonyoung a look. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, but even you could hear the slight hesitation in your voice.

heeseung, ever the tease, smirked. “oh? but wouldn’t it be interesting if it was like that?”

your friends took a seat at the table next to yours, but the teasing didn’t stop there. eunchae chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “oh my god, it’s so obvious. look at the way you two look at each other.”

you groaned and hid your face in your hands, while heeseung, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying this attention.

“we’re literally just studying partners,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady.

“uh huh, sure,” wonyoung said, not believing you for a second. “you’re totally just ‘study buddies.’”

heeseung laughed, nudging you playfully. “what, do you think we’re some sort of study machine? we’ve got to eat sometime, you know.”

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you said, trying your best to ignore your blushing cheeks. “it’s not like we have feelings for each other.”

yujin shot you a teasing glance. “whatever you say, y/n. we’ll see about that.”

as the conversation continued, you tried to focus on your lunch, but you couldn’t help feeling a little flustered. your friends were relentless, and you couldn’t escape their teasing. at some point, heeseung nudged you again, this time a little more seriously.

“don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, his voice soft.

you looked up at him in surprise. “what?”

“i can see how uncomfortable you are. don’t let them mess with your head. we’re just friends. study partners,” he emphasized the words with a wink, making you laugh.

“right,” you said, finally feeling a little better. maybe heeseung wasn’t just teasing. maybe, he actually understood how awkward this whole thing was.

just then, yujin raised her eyebrows. “wait, wait. friends? no, no, no. you two have definitely been spending a little too much time together for it to be just that.”

you sighed and rolled your eyes. “can you all just stop?”

eunchae, still grinning, leaned in a little too close. “oh, but y/n, we can’t. you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen. all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.”

you almost choked on your food, while heeseung, to his credit, just grinned. “you know what they say, though. you can’t fight chemistry.”

“heeseung, shut up,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

the rest of the lunch went on with the teasing, but by the end of it, you couldn’t deny that you were starting to enjoy it. the teasing wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. if anything, it was starting to feel… normal. maybe you were beginning to feel more comfortable with heeseung than you thought.

as you all headed back to campus, you couldn’t shake off the idea of what your friends had said. maybe they were right. maybe there was something more going on between you and heeseung than just studying. but that thought left you with one burning question:

did he feel the same?

after lunch, you tried to shake off your friends’ words, but their teasing lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit.

you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen.

all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.

they were just messing with you… right? there was nothing going on between you and heeseung. sure, he had become one of the people you spent the most time with lately, but that didn’t mean anything. it was just studying. and occasional banter. and… him noticing when you needed a break.

ugh. this was so annoying.

before you could spiral further, your phone buzzed with a text.

heeseung: “you free later? study session part 12938?”

you rolled your eyes but smiled.

you: “more like part 20. but yeah, sure.”

heeseung: “great. library, usual spot. i’ll bring snacks. you bring your brain.”

you: “you make it sound like i don’t have one.”

heeseung: “well, you keep denying your obvious crush on me, so i’m starting to wonder.”

you: “EXCUSE ME?”

heeseung: “relax, i’m kidding. unless…?”

you: “don’t even start.”

heeseung: “lmao, see you later, study buddy.”

you groaned, flopping onto your bed. why did he always have to tease you like that? and why did it get under your skin so much?

later that evening, you met heeseung at the library, as planned. as soon as you sat down, he slid a chocolate bar across the table toward you.

“peace offering,” he said with a smirk.

you eyed him suspiciously but unwrapped it anyway. “what are you apologizing for?”

“for making you flustered earlier,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook.

you nearly choked on your chocolate. “i was not flustered.”

he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you glared at him but decided to drop it. you were not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you react. instead, you focused on studying.

for the next hour, you two actually managed to get some work done—well, mostly.

“y/n, you’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes,” heeseung said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

you blinked. “huh?”

“see? you’re totally distracted. are you thinking about something?” he teased, resting his chin on his hand.

“no,” you said quickly, flipping the page for dramatic effect. “just… taking in the information.”

he smirked. “taking in information or taking in me?”

“heeseung, i swear—”

before you could finish, a voice interrupted.

“oh? is this a date or a study session?”

you turned to see sunghoon and jake standing nearby, both of them looking way too amused.

“neither,” you said flatly. “why are you guys even here?”

“because watching you two is peak entertainment,” jake said, plopping down next to you. “heeseung told us you’d be here, so we figured we’d stop by.”

“of course he did,” you muttered, shooting a glare at heeseung, who only grinned in response.

“so, when’s the wedding?” sunghoon asked, completely serious.

“i hate all of you,” you said, covering your face with your hands.

heeseung chuckled. “c’mon, guys, don’t scare y/n off. they still have to help me pass this class.”

“ah, right,” jake said, nodding. “but after that, you’ll confess, yeah?”

you gaped at him. “why would you assume that?”

sunghoon smirked. “because it’s obvious.”

you groaned. “can we please just study?”

heeseung leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “aw, do i make you nervous?”

you shot him a look. “you wish.”

but the truth was… maybe he did. just a little. and you weren’t sure what to do about that.

for the next few days, you did your best to ignore the way heeseung had somehow weaseled his way into your daily routine. between studying, running into him on campus, and your friends’ constant teasing, it was like the universe was forcing you to acknowledge… whatever this was.

but you weren’t giving in. absolutely not.

until one night, when everything changed.

you were sitting outside your dorm building, scrolling through your phone and attempting to unwind from a long day, when heeseung plopped down next to you, startling you.

“what the hell—”

“hey,” he said, completely unfazed by your reaction. “what are you doing out here alone?”

“thinking about how much better my life would be if you stopped showing up everywhere i go,” you deadpanned.

heeseung clutched his chest dramatically. “ouch. and here i was, about to offer you a ride to the late-night diner.”

you paused. “…there’s a late-night diner?”

he smirked. “yes. and i know you haven’t eaten because i know your study habits by now.”

you rolled your eyes. “so what, you’re my personal meal tracker now?”

he stood up, holding out a hand. “just shut up and come with me.”

against your better judgment, you took his hand.

the diner was small, dimly lit, and surprisingly cozy. the kind of place you could see yourself spending hours in without realizing it. heeseung led you to a booth and, without asking, ordered milkshakes for both of you.

“what if i didn’t want a milkshake?” you challenged.

“please, you love milkshakes,” he shot back.

you narrowed your eyes. “…how do you know that?”

he shrugged. “i pay attention.”

you hated the way your stomach flipped at that.

as the night went on, you found yourself forgetting about your usual arguments. talking with heeseung felt easy—annoying at times, but effortless. he told you stories about his childhood, his dumbest mistakes, and his dreams of doing something meaningful after graduation. you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

and then, as you were finishing your milkshake, he looked at you and said, “y’know, i like this.”

“like what?”

“hanging out with you. without all the arguing.”

you blinked. “you like hanging out with me?”

heeseung scoffed. “wow, don’t look so surprised. i do have a heart.”

“questionable,” you muttered, though you felt your face heat up.

he grinned. “but seriously. this is nice.”

you hesitated before nodding. “…yeah. it is.”

there was a beat of silence. then, because you apparently hated peace, you blurted, “but you’re still annoying.”

heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “god, you’re impossible.”

but he didn’t let go of the straw he had been absentmindedly playing with. and neither did you.

you didn’t know what was more shocking: the fact that you willingly spent an entire night with heeseung without plotting his downfall, or the fact that you actually enjoyed it.

either way, you refused to dwell on it.

the next morning, you convinced yourself it was just the exhaustion talking. a momentary lapse in judgment. surely, once you saw him again, he’d go right back to being the most irritating person on campus.

except… he didn’t.

instead, you found yourself sitting next to him in class, sharing your notes like it was the most natural thing in the world. instead of snide remarks, he shot you small, amused glances when you got frustrated over an assignment. instead of ignoring each other in the library, he casually placed an extra coffee next to your laptop, muttering, “you looked half-dead, figured you needed this.”

and instead of feeling annoyed, you felt… something else. something dangerous.

“you’ve been real quiet lately,” jay commented as he sat across from you in the student lounge.

you blinked up at him. “what?”

“you and heeseung. where’s all the fighting? the dramatic, public arguments? i feel like i’m watching the downfall of an iconic rivalry.”

you scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous. we still argue.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “really? because from what i’ve seen, you guys are, like… flirting now.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “excuse me? flirting?”

“yeah. all the ‘oh my god, you’re so annoying’ and ‘ugh, i hate you’ shit?” jay smirked. “that’s flirting.”

“fuck off,” you muttered, kicking his shin under the table.

jay yelped, but his grin didn’t waver. “hey, i’m just saying—if you ever need a best man at the wedding, i’m available.”

“i’m going to kill you.”

“damn, first-degree murder? sounds like love to me.”

before you could launch a full-blown attack, your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen. heeseung.

heeseung [1:07 PM]: library in 10? i found something that might help with your paper

you stared at the message a little too long.

jay leaned over, reading it before you could stop him. “oh my god.”

“shut up,” you snapped, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the floor.

jay watched you with an infuriatingly smug expression. “you’re so fucked.”

you flipped him off before walking away.

the library was quiet when you arrived, but you spotted heeseung immediately. he was leaning back in his chair, one hand flipping through a book, the other twirling a pen between his fingers.

you hesitated before walking over. “hey.”

he glanced up, smiling slightly. “you’re late.”

“by two minutes.”

“yeah. unacceptable.”

you rolled your eyes, plopping into the chair across from him. “you said you found something for my paper?”

he slid a book toward you. “this has a whole section on your topic. figured it might save you some time.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re being suspiciously helpful.”

“don’t get used to it,” he teased. “i like seeing you suffer, but i love proving that i’m smarter than you.”

“asshole,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

heeseung just grinned.

and maybe jay was right. maybe you were so fucked.

if someone had told you six months ago that you’d willingly spend your free time with lee heeseung, you would’ve laughed in their face. maybe even fought them. but now? now you were waiting for him outside the library, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while he finished up an assignment.

this was getting out of hand.

"hey.”

you looked up to see heeseung walking toward you, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“took you long enough,” you muttered, shoving your phone into your pocket.

“relax, i was being productive,” he said, smirking. “you should try it sometime.”

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you scoffed, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at his words.

heeseung fell into step beside you as you both started heading toward the dining hall. this was becoming a weird habit—getting food together, studying together, exchanging notes without bickering. it was normal. and that was the problem.

you had no idea when the rivalry had started to feel less like a battle and more like an excuse to talk to him.

you shook the thought away.

“you’re spacing out,” heeseung said, nudging your shoulder.

you shot him a glare. “am not.”

“are too.”

“i hate you.”

heeseung grinned. “no, you don’t.”

before you could argue, a voice called out.

“ohhh, what’s this?”

you both turned to see sunghoon, jake, and jungwon standing a few feet away, watching with matching expressions of mischief.

jake gasped dramatically. “is this civil conversation i’m witnessing?”

“no way,” jungwon added. “they’re walking together without trying to kill each other.”

sunghoon grinned. “i knew all that tension wasn’t just hatred.”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “you guys are so fucking annoying.”

heeseung just sighed. “let’s go before they start a conspiracy theory.”

but it was too late, jake had already pulled out his phone.

“this is groundbreaking,” he said, pretending to type. “i need to update the gc.”

you groaned. “jake, i swear to god—”

heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased. “you guys need a hobby.”

“this is our hobby,” jungwon said smugly.

“oh, absolutely,” sunghoon agreed. “we live for drama.”

you shot heeseung a look, but he just sighed and grabbed your wrist. “come on.”

you barely had time to process the sudden contact before he was tugging you away, leaving the three of them cackling behind you.

he didn’t let go until you reached the dining hall.

you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where he’d touched you. “well. that was mortifying.”

“they’re insufferable,” heeseung muttered.

“and yet, they have a point.”

he glanced at you. “which is?”

you hesitated. were you really about to bring this up?

fuck it.

“this whole thing,” you said, gesturing vaguely between you two. “it’s not… normal.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow. “what, us not wanting to kill each other?”

“yes! i mean—no! i mean…” you exhaled sharply. “don’t you think it’s weird? one minute we’re at each other’s throats, and now we’re just—”

“friends?” he offered.

your stomach twisted. you didn’t like that word. not because it wasn’t true, but because it didn’t feel like the whole truth.

“sure,” you said weakly. “friends.”

heeseung studied you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression.

then he said, “well, that’s boring.”

you blinked. “what?”

“friends?” he repeated, tilting his head. “that’s so underwhelming.”

your heart stuttered. “what—what do you mean?”

heeseung smirked. “i mean, we could be so much more interesting than that.”

you stared at him. your brain was short-circuiting.

he took a step closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. “unless… you’re scared?”

your breath hitched. “scared?”

heeseung leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “of what this could be.”

your brain stalled.

“scared?” you echoed. “of what this could be?”

heeseung just looked at you, waiting.

you let out a breathless laugh. “oh, please. do you even hear yourself?”

“perfectly,” he said, still smirking.

“you’re joking.”

“am i?”

you crossed your arms. “yes. obviously.”

heeseung tilted his head, like he was considering something. “huh.”

“what?”

“nothing. just… i didn’t think you’d be so dense.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he shrugged. “i thought it was pretty obvious. i like you.”

your stomach flipped. your heart flipped. but your brain? your brain was malfunctioning.

you narrowed your eyes. “okay, very funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

“yes, you are.”

heeseung sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “why would i joke about this?”

“because this is what we do!” you gestured between you. “we mess with each other, we push each other’s buttons—this is just another game to you.”

heeseung exhaled sharply. “jesus, you really don’t get it.”

you frowned. “what is there to get?”

he gave you a look. “the fact that i genuinely like you, dumbass.”

your breath caught in your throat.

heeseung shook his head, almost frustrated. “do you think i’d just say this for fun? you piss me off like no one else, but you’re also the only person i actually want to be around. figure that out.”

you stared at him.

heeseung liked you. like, for real. like, not as a joke.

and you… you had spent the past five minutes laughing in his face.

fuck.

you were malfunctioning. actually, no—you were buffering. like a shitty internet connection that couldn’t load the page properly.

heeseung liked you. and instead of responding like a normal person, you had laughed in his face.

“heeseung,” you started, trying to find something to say. “i—”

“forget it.”

your stomach dropped. “wait, what?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand down his face. “look, if you don’t feel the same way, just say it. but don’t act like i’m joking just because you don’t want to deal with it.”

your throat went dry. “that’s not—”

“then what is it?”

he sounded tired. like he had finally run out of patience.

and it hit you, all at once.

you had spent so much time convincing yourself that this thing between you two was just rivalry—just banter and competition and winning—that you had completely ignored everything else.

how your heart always raced around him. how you always looked for him in a crowded room. how his approval meant way too much, how his insults stung just a little more, how he made you feel alive in a way no one else did.

you had been so sure that he was messing with you. because the alternative? the idea that he meant it? that was terrifying.

but now…

now you could see the way his shoulders were tense, like he was bracing himself. the way his hands were curled into fists, like he was trying to hold something in.

he wasn’t playing around.

he never was.

“heeseung,” you said, voice quieter now.

he didn’t say anything.

you took a step closer. “i’m sorry.”

his jaw tightened. “for what?”

“for acting like an idiot,” you admitted. “and for not realizing sooner.”

his eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “realizing what?”

you swallowed. “that i like you too.”

the words felt big. heavier than you expected. but at the same time, saying them felt like a weight lifting—like something settling into place.

heeseung blinked. his whole body went still.

then he exhaled a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “you are so fucking annoying.”

you rolled your eyes. “jesus, thank you, i was really hoping for that to be your first response—”

before you could finish, heeseung grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, crashing his lips against yours.

it took you half a second to catch up, but once you did, you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hoodie.

heeseung smiled against your lips. “took you long enough.”

you huffed. “shut up.”

he hummed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “make me.”

AUTHORS NOTE: wait i lowkey hate this IM SORRY IF ITS BAD

#cina🌙: tbr list

1K notes · View notes

cinnamon-won · 4 months ago

Text

girls goon too

pairing ↠ stepbro!sunghoon x (f) reader x stepbro!heeseung

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) / face fucking, virgin! reader, dubcon

summary ↠ sunghoon can't take it anymore. you just won't stop gooning in your bedroom for all the world to hear, and he's tired of it. he's pretty sure all you do with your spare time is watch porn. heeseung suggests that he just jerks off, but his morals won't let him; until he decides that he can't hold back anymore. he has to shut you up.

wc ↠ 5.3k

a/n ↠ nohyuck version of this fic originally posted on my blog revehae. i am not plagiarizing myself. this is my apology for missing my friday night drabble post. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“she’s doing it again,” sunghoon grumbled, walking into heeseung’s bedroom. only because the door was ajar, though. he knew the sight he’d walk in on if it was completely closed would be worse than what you were surely doing.

heeseung snickered, eyes fixed on his computer. “what’s the occasion? sixth-month gooning anniversary?”

sunghoon scoffed. he didn’t know why you did it. he thought jake was bad, but you were next level. “i thought surely she would give us a break for november.”

“and she did,” heeseung quipped, moving his mouse. “for all of three days.”

that was true. for the very first three days of november, the house had been relatively quiet apart from heeseung’s shouting when he was losing. then, on the fourth day, it was back to hearing your annoyingly perfect fucking moans in the afternoon.

and god forbid your parents would be coming home late. you were relentless on those days, touching yourself to no end. sunghoon couldn’t stand it. he hated minding his business, trying to rest or work or do anything that didn’t require thinking about the sounds you were making as you persistently edged yourself.

but he couldn’t help himself. sometimes, he could hear your moans even when you weren’t there, and that was when he knew he was finally losing what little bit was left of his goddamn mind.

heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem as miffed. sunghoon was certain his brother could hear the noises you were making down the hall, but he was sitting here without a care in the world, typing an email to his professor of all things. which made no sense to sunghoon, considering he knew how much heeseung liked noisy sex.

“okay, i’ll bite,” sunghoon said, crossing his arms. “how in the hell are you okay with this?”

heeseung shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. he was well aware of the fact that sunghoon always got worked up when it came to you, which was fair. you were the biggest minx this world had ever known. “well, first of all,” heeseung started, snickering again. “there’s a thing called jerking off. i’m sure you’ve heard of it. it’s really popular amongst guys we know.”

sunghoon looked almost scandalized. “i’m not jerking off to my stepsister.”

“then, you’re an idiot,” heeseung retorted. “she’s given us enough material until new years. of the year after next.”

“it’s wrong.”

heeseung rolled his eyes. “you’ve got such a stick up your ass, like a proper princess or something.”

“i’ll beat your ass, hee,” sunghoon warned.

heeseung threw his hands up. “i’m just saying. i’m not telling you to stick her in a washing machine, bro. but the answer’s obvious. just jerk off. you know you want to.”

sunghoon sighed. had he thought about it? obviously. but he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt, even if you made him perpetually horny. “i want to smack the shit out of you right now, but i haven’t done it yet.”

rather than recoil, heeseung laughed. that asswipe finds humor in everything, sunghoon thought to himself, irritated. “and i commend your patience, man,” heeseung replied. “but it’s only making you more frustrated when you could just bust a nut and be happy.”

sunghoon was thinking about it now. well, he had thought about it countless times, but he had never allowed himself to stoop that low. you were his younger stepsister and it was his responsibility to take care of you. not picture your face as you moaned and imagine how you would feel, tight and sticky and creamy as you wrapped around his…

heeseung broke the silence, musing more so to himself, “maybe we should put her in the washing machine.”

sunghoon’s eyes flickered. “what the hell, man?”

“my bad,” heeseung replied, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “i was just thinking out loud.”

fuck, now sunghoon was picturing that too. your house had one of those washing machines that opened from the top, not the front. too many times had sunghoon seen you struggle to take your clothes out, dangling over the washing machine and nearly falling inside. he would offer to help, every now and then, but he liked watching you climb the washing machine just to get your clothes from the very bottom.

it was much more realistic for you to get stuck in it then the kinds of washing machines in porn.

heeseung broke the silence again, still thinking. it was his greatest skill and simultaneously his worst habit. “if you’re so against it, why haven’t you just asked her to shut the fuck up then?”

that was a good question. sunghoon wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from an altercation, not with friends and not with family. he had certainly never shown heeseung any mercy. he loved his brother, but he was annoying as all fuck.

“i see,” heeseung said, smirking. see, annoying. “it’s because you don’t really want her to stop.”

sunghoon sighed. “yeah, fine. i don’t want her to stop. happy?”

heeseung burst out laughing. always laughing, always scheming. he was going to get a stocking full of coal for christmas. “i have an idea.”

“oh, god,” sunghoon groaned.

heeseung finally pressed send on his email and turned around in his desk chair. “hear me out. we should fuck her.”

sunghoon gawked in disbelief. then again, none of heeseung’s ideas were ever truly brilliant. “you’re insane,” he murmured.

“thanks,” heeseung chirped, the insult rolling off his shoulders. “just sleep on it.”

“you know what? sure,” sunghoon replied, walking out of his brother’s room and shutting the door. he didn’t want to hear another word.

he went about his day like everything was normal, going on a walk so that he didn’t have to hear you, eating dinner and watching netflix in the living room to ignore the fact that you existed altogether. and then he went to bed.

sunghoon couldn’t fucking sleep. on it, over it, under it. he couldn’t sleep whatsoever.

it wasn’t like you were just loudly moaning all day long, that would be absurd. but every now and then, there would be a whimper you’d let slip. sunghoon could tell that you were actually trying to be quiet. but this was one of those nights where your parents wouldn’t be back and you were taking advantage of that. again.

sunghoon decided that he was at his breaking point. the need for you was too goddamn strong and he was tired of pretending that he was better. he couldn’t ignore it anymore. he couldn’t fight it, suppress it.

he threw the blankets off his bed and went to heeseung’s room, the door closed this time. he knocked on the door and called out, “stop jerking off and get your ass out here.”

sunghoon heard a groan, one of the disgruntled sort. a few seconds later, heeseung opened the door, a scowl on his face. “what the hell, man? your voice ruined my nut.”

it was sunghoon’s turn to laugh. he clasped a hand on heeseung’s shoulder. “don’t worry. you’ll be in the mood again in no time.”

heeseung lifted a brow. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

sunghoon nodded.

“we’re gonna teach her a lesson.”

“we’re gonna put her in the washing machine?”

sunghoon’s smile instantly dropped and his hand fell from heeseung’s shoulder. “why the fuck are you both so addicted to porn?” he asked.

the excited shimmer in heeseung’s eyes died a little. “no, i was… i was just kidding. let’s go.”

sunghoon sighed and started down the hall to your bedroom, deciding not to argue heeseung on that. it would be a waste of valuable time.

sunghoon knocked on the door and called out your name. “can we come in?”

there was audible shuffling as you called back, “just a moment!”

heeseung glanced over at sunghoon. “so, how we doing this?”

sunghoon looked calm, collected. as if fucking his stepsister was something he did on the regular. “just follow my lead.”

you opened the door, a towel thrown around you. but your skin looked damp with sweat, not water. your face was a little flushed. it was obvious that you were naked. “um, can i help you guys?” you asked, somewhat breathless.

sunghoon looked you up and down subtly. heeseung, on the other hand, was damn near ogling you. the former repeated, “can we come in?”

“um, i guess,” you murmured, stepping out of the way so that they could enter your bedroom.

heeseung closed the door behind himself, not that there was anyone to worry about. it was only the three of you in the house at the moment.

sunghoon glanced away, looking for traces of what you had been doing. he found them very quickly; your laptop shut on your bed, the blankets messily thrown on top to conceal the damp spots in your sheets, and your shirt and shorts on the floor by your bed, implying you were only in your underwear.

“is there something you guys need?” you asked, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted.

sunghoon walked towards your desk where your laptop probably should have been, though he saw something fearful flash in your eyes. his brows furrowed, but he didn’t inquire about it. he would figure it out on his own. “do we have to need something to want to visit you?” sunghoon asked, a small smile on his face. “i haven’t seen you all day long. we just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”

“oh, that’s… very sweet of you,” you murmured. “as you can see, i’m perfectly alive and breathing.”

“yeah, you’re breathing a lot,” heeseung commented.

sunghoon chuckled. he moved away from your desk and instead towards your nightstand, noticing your eyes still watching him like a hawk. “relax. what’s got you so worked up?”

“i’m not worked up,” you lied, eyes darting between him and your bed.

that was when it clicked in sunghoon’s brain. the bed. you didn’t want him to see the bed. he chuckled again, sitting down on top of it. “are you okay? you look a little… flushed.”

“yeah,” heeseung chimed in, moving your hair out of your face. you jolted. you had been paying so much attention to sunghoon that you failed to notice heeseung had creeped up behind you. “and sweaty.”

you released a shaky breath. you were nervous, but you couldn’t tell them that. because then they would start asking questions. “i’m okay, guys. you can go.”

“why are you trying to get rid of us?” heeseung asked, leaning in a little too close. “it’s almost like you’re hiding something.”

“what are you watching?” sunghoon asked, grabbing your laptop.

your eyes widened in horror. “no, wait!” you exclaimed. you tried to stop him, but heeseung was quick to pull you back against his chest.

sunghoon opened your laptop, being met with a twitter porn browser. he feigned surprise. “oh, wow,” he said, merely blinking. “wow.”

“what is it?” heeseung called from the other side of the room.

sunghoon turned the laptop to face you and heeseung. “guess she’s really into… creampies, sucking dick, and doggy style.”

your face was hot with embarrassment and you thrashed in heeseung’s arms. “this is an invasion of privacy! you guys jerk off, don’t you?”

“jerk off? sure. watch porn for hours on end? no, i don’t,” sunghoon answered, setting your laptop down. he moved your blankets out of the way, revealing a few damp spots on your bed. “how long did you have to sit here for this to happen?”

you felt very exposed at the moment. like your deepest, darkest secret was steadily reaching its way around the whole world. “i’m not that bad,” you murmured, shy.

heeseung laughed. he tugged at the towel and brought his hand to your chest, pinching your nipple. “not that bad? you almost gave poor sunghoon over there an aneurysm with how enticing you’ve been.”

your whined when heeseung squeezed your chest, tearing your gaze away from sunghoon to look up at him with wide eyes. “what are you doing?”

“fuck. yeah, that’s what i’m talking about, princess,” heeseung groaned, pressing himself against your ass. “those sweet sounds have been driving him mad.”

any other moment, sunghoon would have narrowed his eyes at heeseung and called him disgusting. but this was different. sunghoon didn’t care about what was right or wrong anymore. maybe he never truly had. what was certain right now was that any desire to behave in a morally acceptable manner was outweighed by the desire to fuck you brainless.

“bring her over here,” sunghoon said, shoving your laptop of the way to make room.

heeseung grabbed your waist and led you towards the bed, pushing you towards his brother. sunghoon grabbed your chin, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “gooning isn’t healthy,” he told you straightforwardly. “you know what you need?”

you glanced at him, fretful. the towel had completely fallen at this point, leaving you solely in your water, just as sunghoon had pieced together. “what?” you whispered.

“a fuck,” sunghoon replied unabashedly. “you’re so damn touch-starved. always complaining about how you want a boyfriend, but you never go out, because you’re too busy playing with your clit.”

your face was hot. honestly, they hadn’t given you the opportunity to cool down. but you had to admit that he was right. compared to how much you touched yourself, you didn’t go out enough.

“have you ever even had sex?” heeseung asked, running his hands up your thighs.

you wanted to hide so fucking bad, but that clearly wasn’t an option. “no,” you replied, ashamed.

sunghoon snickered, because apparently that was funny. “obviously,” he said, moving his thumb to your bottom lip. “this pretty body has gone untouched for too many years, that’s all. once you get fucked, you’ll be as good as new. worked for jake. didn’t it, hee?”

“yep,” heeseung chirped, nodding. “he was the biggest gooner i’ve ever seen. jay had so many roommate horror stories. then, we got him some pussy, and he’s all better now. actually goes outside and gets light that isn’t from his laptop.”

“so, what do you say?” sunghoon asked, turning your head back to him. “want something other than your fingers inside you?”

your heart racing. were you really about to agree to getting fucked by your stepbrothers? when it was over, you could blame it on the fact that you genuinely were touch-starved and desperate for a release for all this pent-up frustration.

and because you really, really needed to come after having avoided it for hours, you nodded your head.

“words, princess,” heeseung said, his hands still gripping your thighs as he thought about how soft they were. “say it. say, ‘i want you to fuck me, heeseung.’”

you swallowed, but you weren’t going to disobey. “i… i want you to fuck me, heeseung.”

“jeez, you don’t have to beg. i’ll do it,” heeseung replied, playful as ever. “and because it’s your first time, i think we should do missionary. is that okay, princess?”

“that’s… fine,” you murmured timidly. it didn’t really matter to you how he fucked you. you just wanted someone inside you.

heeseung was beaming, like he had prayed for this day and it was finally happening. “good. and if you ever want me to fuck you on all fours, you know the way to my room.”

the way heeseung was looking at you was entirely overwhelming, so you glanced over at sunghoon instead, though he was also watching you intently. “what about… you?” you asked.

sunghoon chuckled, thumb sweeping over your lips. “i don’t need to fuck your pussy. i’ll leave that to heeseung. i just want to fuck this pretty little mouth that’s been keeping me up at night.”

heeseung, growing impatient, tugged at your panties. you lifted your hips, watching him drag them down your legs. “jesus,” he murmured. “they’re fucking drenched.”

“they better be,” sunghoon replied with a chuckle, stepping out of his pants. “long as she’s probably been wearing them.”

heeseung spread your legs, wanting to get a good look at the treasure hidden between them. he moaned at the mere sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal. “fuck, you don’t even need prep,” he mused.

as if you couldn’t get any more embarrassed than you already were. they knew exactly what to say to make you want to hide your face beneath a pillow and hopefully suffocate to death.

despite his declaration about you not needing prep, heeseung couldn’t help but drag his tongue along your folds, which made you gasp in surprise. it wasn’t a tentative lick, either; he was confident and unreluctant. you were clearly sensitive, but he didn’t seem to care, eager to suck and lick at you.

“heeseung,” you whimpered, involuntarily trying to close your legs. he swore his dick twitched when you said his name like that.

all the while, sunghoon was stroking himself beside you, half hard. for the first time thinking about you at the same time that he touched his dick, and god, he really should have done it sooner. just the thought of you made his blood pump harder.

heeseung pulled back after a moment or two when he was finally sated. “sorry,” he apologized, completely inauthentic. “just wanted a taste.”

sunghoon tapped your cheek. “open up, baby.”

you slowly opened your mouth, wide enough for him to push inside. which sunghoon seized the opportunity to do as soon as it presented itself. he was impatient now, tired of waiting. you had tortured him long enough with those pretty noises; it was time you paid him back for tolerating your horniness.

“fuck,” sunghoon cursed upon feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock.

heeseung snickered. it was amusing to him that only a few hours ago, sunghoon said he was insane for suggesting that they fuck you. and now here he was with his cock down your throat. a few hours could truly change a man, for worse and for better. “how’s it going?” heeseung asked.

sunghoon closed his eyes, trying to go slow before he started fucking your throat with a purpose. he didn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but damn, he was getting pretty damn close. “how do you think?” he retorted.

you watched sunghoon as he slowly moved inside your mouth, though his patience was obviously dwindling by the second. part of you wanted to see what it would look like when he lost it all, but the other dreaded it, uncertain whether or not you could handle it.

you were still a virgin, after all. in the important and unimportant ways. you had never been fucked. you had most certainly never had your throat fucked until this very moment. the furthest you’d ever gone with a boy was a little bit of groping while kissing and even that was awkward.

heeseung licked his lips, appreciating that they were coated in your arousal. “taste so good, princess,” he said, dropping his hands down to his shorts.

you would have gawked when you glanced down and noticed the dent in them, even if it weren’t for the fact that your mouth was preoccupied. when did he get so hard?

heeseung started to undress himself, pleased now that he had gotten a taste of you and eager to be inside you. he was quick to shed his shorts and the layer underneath, unafraid to show just how desperate he was. for him, it was easy to accept his attraction to you and even easier to act on it now that he had your consent.

he climbed onto the bed, grabbing your thighs again and spreading them apart. he gave them a few affectionate, departing kisses and sat up to grab his cock, bringing it between them. “say ‘goofer gooner’ if you’re ready,” heeseung joked, knowing you couldn’t speak.

you furrowed your brows, but you couldn’t even focus on his nonsense because sunghoon was noticeably forgoing all restraint. could you blame him? your mouth was warm, alive, and everything about you seemed to drive him straight through the brink of insanity.

“you know, sunghoon,” heeseung started, gazing down at the little distance between your bodies. “you were right. i’m already in the mood again.”

you had that effect on him, on them. heeseung knew he probably should have fought it better, but he truly saw no point. it was easier to fold and surrender to the fact that he found you infuriatingly sexy, despite your tendencies. and with nothing more to say, he slowly but surely pressed himself inside you.

heeseung tipped his head back, already moaning like a bitch and he wasn’t even fully sheathed inside you yet. “holy fuck,” he said, his grip on your thighs tightening.

you whimpered, the sound muffled by sunghoon’s cock as his balls slapped against your chin. you immediately pulsed around heeseung’s cock, clinging to him like now that he was there, you would never let him go.

“holy fuck,” heeseung moaned again, stopping for a moment as if the breath had been completely sucked out of him. “so fucking wet, my dick just slides in.”

he was damn near flabbergasted. maybe there was benefit to you gooning for hours on end, a benefit that he got to reap. he had never seen anyone this wet before, much less felt anything this wet, and it was taking a toll on him. his head was already reeling.

“okay,” heeseung said, more so to himself. he was adjusting. “okay. fuck. i’m gonna move.”

and he did, growing more and more mesmerized with every thrust of his hips. his mouth hung open, moans of your name and explicit curses dangling from his lips with a shrill touch to them that only made you even more aroused.

to say nothing of the sounds sunghoon was making, almost directly in your ear. he was so close to your face that you could explode. he was finally moving comfortably, fucking your throat with a rhythm that almost made it hard to breathe.

though you had no intention of making him stop. you had fantasized about making yourself available for this purpose many, many times. not necessarily to your stepbrother, but well, it wasn’t like you were discriminating. especially not when he sounded so goddamn sexy and his face was tensing the way it was in pleasure.

it was strange, but you found yourself going from solely craving the experience to wanting to pleasure them. and it would appear that you were doing a fantastic job without hardly even trying, all things considered.

heeseung was gripping on your thighs for dear life as if without the support, he would get blown away into the eighth dimension. or maybe drown in how wet you were, gushing around his cock, if not for him using your soft thighs as an anchor to keep him afloat.

“this sweet fucking pussy,” he sighed, losing himself in the vice of you. he had set a pace too, fucking you without intention of stopping. with every fiber of his being, deep and hard. “i could fuck you forever.”

you could sit here and take it forever. you had never felt so full in your life. your fingers hardly did the job, always reaching just shy of where you needed them instead of completely offering you the satisfaction you’d long craved. and here heeseung was handing it to you on a silver platter.

the only problem was that you felt slightly overwhelmed with so much happening at one time in two different holes. you didn’t know who to pay attention to; sunghoon fucking your throat with a vengeance, eager to gain something out of your mouth for once, or heeseung railing you to kingdom come, making you feel hot everywhere.

you found yourself trying to juggle both, eyes flitting between them, moaning around sunghoon’s dick at heeseung’s angled thrusts and throbbing around heeseung at every guttural groan that slipped from sunghoon’s mouth. you couldn’t help yourself; it was too goddamn arousing.

sunghoon noticed how fucked out you looked, eyes rolling back to another timeline, and it was doing unimaginable things to his cock. you looked better than he could have ever imagined and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he left you hoarse and rasping.

with that thought, he grabbed your hair to push you down and started to fuck your head against the mattress rather roughly, which caught you by surprise. you tried to take it, you really did, but it was overwhelming. you could barely breathe.

“take it,” he hissed, holding your head in place. you looked pretty like this, struggling to keep up with his hectic movements.

your eyes were watering as his cock went too deep for you to handle, and you started gagging. sunghoon moaned, but pulled your head off him to let you relax for a second, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and the head of his cock.

“breathe,” he said, letting one hand run through your hair almost tenderly.

you nodded, willing yourself to relax. all the while, sunghoon marveled at how pretty you looked with saliva on your face and tears strolling down your cheeks.

“you guys okay up there?” heeseung asked from between your legs, having noticed the action.

“we’re fine,” sunghoon answered on your behalf. he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “you ready?”

you nodded your head. you couldn’t shake the urge to really make him proud, to satisfy all his inappropriate cravings. it was the least you could do when you had been tantalizing him for months on end.

“good girl,” sunghoon whispered, guiding his cock back to your mouth and this time using your hair to push your head onto his cock as he fucked your throat.

you moaned at the pet name, because something about the way it sounded coming from him made your head spin. maybe you were just horny and in dire need of a fuck like he’d said. maybe after you came, all of these feelings would wear off, and you would feel somewhat sane again.

but you couldn’t deny that you were somewhat indulging in your fantasies here. you didn’t necessarily hate the the way sunghoon was treating you, even if it was a little beyond your limits and more than a little rough. but limits were just boundaries you’d yet explored.

heeseung was a different situation altogether. your pussy was still sensitive from the hours of playing with it and you were already about to come much before him. there was a familiar heat in your stomach and festering throb of energy in your core, only more intense than you had ever experienced.

but heeseung recognized it, even without being able to hear your sweet moans of his name. he could see it in your body language and it flattered him in a way; he always felt proud when he lasted longer than the person he was fucking, especially without necessarily even trying to finish them quicker.

“she’s gonna come,” heeseung pointed out, grinning. “come for me, princess. come on this dick. you know you want to.”

it was like he your voodoo doll or something, because merely seconds after those words parted from his mouth, you were shuddering and tightening around his cock with climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes clenching.

heeseung let out the pitchiest moan ever when you throbbed around him repeatedly. words could not describe how good it felt, but sounds could. and the sounds he was making were sensational, only contributing to the mind-numbing pleasure wrecking you from within.

“goddamn,” heeseung said, mesmerized by how hard you came. it was probably warranted after hours of resisting.

but the other thing on heeseung’s mind was how much wetter your pussy sounded, sticky with your release. he whined, literally going mad. he knew that his own orgasm wasn’t far out and just the squelch of your cunt could easily finish him off.

sunghoon was facing a similar predicament, fucking your mouth without restraint and not letting you escape his thrusts. “fuck, i’m gonna come,” he groaned. “swallow it. or don’t. it’s your sheets.”

the last thing you of all people cared about was having your sheets ruined. at the moment, you were more burdened with how sore your throat felt and how overstimulated your pussy was being fucked despite having already orgasmed. it literally felt like you’d had the soul fucked out of you.

you didn’t even know it was possible at this point, but sunghoon’s hips went faster. it was a brutal but steady pace, which was somewhat admirable. he was trying to get himself there, right over the edge, knowing release was only seconds away.

with a few more smacks, sunghoon released down your throat with the sexiest groan you’d heard, one that claimed every award. when you’d milked him of every drop, his hands tight on the sides of your face, his grip on your head slacked and he slowly pulled your mouth off him.

you swallowed what you could, but he had came so goddamn much at once, it was borderline ridiculous. what you couldn’t take dripped down your chin, blending with the saliva from the messy fucking.

heeseung glanced up at you and the sight of your cum-stained face triggered something so primal in him that he knew he wasn’t going to last another minute. “princess, where do you want me to come?” he asked breathlessly.

“inside,” you replied with maybe half your voice, if even. it hurt to speak. the sound pleased sunghoon.

the thought of coming inside your pussy had heeseung levitating and was the last push he needed to bring himself past the cusp of ecstasy. his hips stuttered as he came inside you, crying out half of your name, leaning on top of you as he buried his load inside your warm, wet, gushing, sticky hole.

a satisfied hum escaped you when you felt his cum seeping inside your pussy. why did it feel so good?

“d-don’t move yet,” you whispered, because it was all you could muster.

heeseung glanced up at you, recognizing the look of pleasure on your face. if he had the energy, he would tease you about how you wanted to feel him cum inside you, but he needed to catch his breath. so he answered with a nod.

sunghoon whistled. this had gone better than he’d hoped. “well goddamn. you’re just a virgin slut aren’t you?”

heeseung chuckled breathlessly. “she took that shit like a champ. i’m impressed.”

sunghoon kissed your forehead. “you did so good,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water in a second.”

you nodded, appreciating the tender side after all that had just happened. your heart felt a little lighter than usual, despite its racing. you had so many questions, but you didn’t want to strain your voice. was it normal to feel like a different person after having sex for the first time?

heeseung was going to pull out, but seeing the look on your face, he decided to stay nestled inside you for a little longer. “you okay?”

you bobbed your head. “i’m good.”

heeseung snickered and teased, “whoa there, batman. what have you done with my sister?”

you rolled your eyes, but giggled. sunghoon joined in on the laughter, but he added, “don’t speak. you’ll make it worse.”

heeseung sighed contentedly. knowing that you wouldn’t say anything in response, he decided to tease, “our little gooner.”

you glared at heeseung wordlessly, conveying a lot of different things with your eyes.

sunghoon translated playfully, “i think that means ‘fuck you.’”

“again?” heeseung joked. “what can i expect from a gooner. but hey, i guess girls can goon too.”

#cina🌙: tbr list

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