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motchipotchi · 20 days ago

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Not even a girl and I’m busting my nuts to this fanfic…

INTO YOU || 오영일

Part 1

Summary: Professor Young-il noticed you walking alone in the rain and offered his kindness, nothing more.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, explicit content, unprotected, piv, oral (m&f), dirty talk, pussy slapping, loss of virginity, riding, car sex, student x teacher, forbidden love, age-gap (Reader: 25; Young-il: mid 40s), thick tension, praising kink, mutual pining

The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that makes every little thought in your head feel like a shout.

The lights were off, the moonlight slicing through the blinds and painting soft lines on your bedroom wall.

But even in the calm of the night, your heart was in utter chaos.

Professor Young-il's words still echoed, looping inside your mind like a haunting, beautiful song.

" I like you…I’ve liked you for a long time."

You clutched your pillow to your chest, eyes wide in the dark.

He said it.

He really said it.

That moment kept replaying like a film reel—his eyes searching yours, the hesitance in his voice, and the raw honesty that followed.

You never imagined he’d feel the same.

How could you?

You'd ignored the lingering stares, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, all the little things you brushed off out of fear of hoping too much.

Your chest tightened.

He was already looking at you…this whole time.

You couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed the pillow, lifted it above your head, and slammed it down onto your face, muffling the guttural scream that ripped from your throat.

You needed to be quiet—everyone was asleep—but your emotions were loud, screaming through every fiber of your body.

" UGHHHH!" You thrashed, punching and pinching the poor pillow like it had something to do with your emotional turmoil.

You were utterly thrilled, overwhelmed, and shaken to your core.

Then came the self-slap—once, twice, then again.

Sharp smacks that left a stinging heat on your cheeks.

" Ow! Oh my god—ow!" You whined, cupping your face.

The pain was real.

Too real.

Not a dream.

This actually happened.

You buried your face in your pillow again, this time letting out a softer, breathless scream.

What the hell do you do now?

You rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, heart racing and mind swirling.

Somewhere in the whirlwind of disbelief and happiness, you smiled—shy, giddy, and completely smitten.

...

The street was hushed with the kind of golden glow that only comes just before dusk, casting a soft light on Keiron as he stood outside your gate.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his palms sweaty despite the cool breeze.

Behind his back, he cradled a bouquet with nervous pride—an explosion of colors and scents, carefully picked to match your beauty.

But let’s be real…no bouquet could ever truly match you.

Keiron smiled like an idiot as he leaned forward to take one last inhale of the sweet florals, whispering,

“ She’s gonna love this.” to himself.

His heart was pounding like he was about to face a final exam—except ten times more terrifying, because this time…his entire soul was on the line.

That perfect moment shattered in an instant when someone barreled into him, hard.

The bouquet flopped out of his grip, splattering onto the pavement like a crime scene made of petals.

“ Hey! What the—” Keiron’s eyes widened in horror at the ruined flowers.

He spun around, temper flaring. “ Do you have eyes, huh?!”

Without a second thought, he grabbed the stranger’s collar and yanked him forward, his grip firm, jaw clenched tight. “ You just smashed my bouqu—”

But his voice died in his throat the moment he locked eyes with the person he was about to punch.

“...Professor Young-il?” Keiron’s voice cracked mid-shock.

He immediately let go, stumbling back a step like he just realized he almost smacked a ghost.

“ I—I'm sorry, Mr. Young-il! I didn’t realize it was you!” Keiron bowed repeatedly, eyes wide in panic, his hands waving in frantic apology.

“ I-I was just—sir, I wasn’t thinking—”

Young-il calmly dusted off his coat, clicking his tongue with exaggerated annoyance.

His eyes—sharp and unreadable—moved slowly over Keiron, judging him like he was the last banana at the market.

Not even worth haggling for.

Then, without a single word, Young-il stepped—no, stomped—on the ruined bouquet.

Crushed it like it was something offensive.

Keiron’s heart cracked a little.

“ Sir!” Keiron blinked in disbelief.

“ What are you—why did you—?”

Young-il raised a brow, voice slick with sarcasm. “ Why? Am I not allowed to walk around this neighborhood?”

Keiron squinted, jaw tightening. “ That’s not what I meant.”

Young-il just smirked, the kind of smirk that felt like a slap. “ Oh, forgive me. I forgot you were also the guardian of sidewalks now.”

The tension between them was so thick it could’ve been cut with a butterknife.

Keiron didn’t understand it.

Young-il was respectful, warm, even inspiring with other students.

But with him? It felt like every conversation was a battlefield.

He’d tried to brush it off before—maybe I just annoy him, maybe it’s all in my head—but now?

Now it was personal.

Young-il exhaled sharply and looked away.

“ My bad.” He muttered.

“ I’ve had a bad day. That’s all.”

Keiron tilted his head, arms crossing. “ It’s fine, sir. Just…maybe not take it out on flowers next time.”

Young-il cracked a tight smile. “ Noted.”

With a curt nod, the professor turned and walked off, his coat billowing dramatically like he was in a soap opera.

Keiron stared after him, jaw slack, mind racing.

What the hell was that?!

He looked down at the bouquet—once stunning, now a floral massacre—and let out a growl of frustration.

“Are you serious right now?! I saved up for two weeks for those stupid flowers!”

He grabbed the crushed bouquet, held it up like it personally betrayed him, then dramatically stuffed it into the nearest bin.

“ This day is cursed.” He muttered, wiping his hands.

“ Next time I’m bringing donuts. No one crushes donuts.”

But even as he joked to himself, he couldn’t shake that sharp glance Young-il had given him, like he was more than just a student.

Like he was a rival.

A rival for what, though?

Keiron’s eyes slowly drifted up to your house again, and a realization began to dawn, crawling up his spine.

Wait a second…was he here for…her?

His stomach flipped, and suddenly the cold breeze didn’t feel so cool anymore.

...

Rain hammered down like it was trying to break the world apart.

You huddled in the waiting area, arms wrapped tightly around your backpack as the sound of the storm roared around you.

The cold air bit through your clothes, but your stubbornness was stronger than your common sense tonight.

You’d already declined Keiron’s offer to walk you home—not because you didn’t want to, but because…ugh.

The guy had already done so much for you lately, you were starting to feel like an unpaid emotional debt collector.

You didn’t want him to think you were helpless or worse—expecting him to keep swooping in like a knight with better hair.

Your phone blinked its last red breath before dying completely, leaving you tech-less and utterly uncivilized.

You sighed dramatically and started counting the cars zooming past in the rain just to keep yourself from losing it.

One...two...five...eleven...

The rain eased up slightly, and you peeked your head out like a cautious meerkat.

After a minute of drizzle-free peace, you braved the open air and started walking toward the bus terminal.

Bad move.

Halfway down the block, the skies cracked open again without mercy.

It was like the rain had been holding its breath just to ruin your day.

You flinched, arms up, already soaked. “ Oh, for f—seriously?!”

Water streamed down your face, clinging to your lashes.

Your clothes clung to your skin like cold sheets, and you could feel your entire body start to tremble.

The wind didn’t help, sweeping in with the grace of a freezer door slamming open.

You kept walking—miserable, wet, and on the verge of developing a personal vendetta against clouds—when a loud BEEEEEEP made you jump and nearly slip on the sidewalk.

“ WHAT THE—!?”

Your head whipped toward the street, ready to curse the driver to the underworld, until you heard it.

“ Y/n!”

Your brain stuttered.

That voice.

That ridiculously familiar voice.

You squinted through the rain like a confused raccoon, and your eyes widened in disbelief.

A sleek, shiny car rolled up beside you.

The window lowered, and there he was.

Professor Young-il.

Looking like he’d just driven out of a K-drama climax scene.

He leaned out, his voice urgent, almost panicked.

“ Hey! You’re soaking wet!”

You blinked, frowning. “ HUH?!”

He sighed, louder this time. “ I said, you’re wet! Come inside, I’ll take you home!”

You hesitated, every part of you screaming yes, but your pride still clinging on for dear life.

“ No, I don’t want to soak your car!” You shouted back, a pout sneaking into your voice.

He narrowed his eyes. “ You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out here any longer.”

“ I’m fine! My place is close—thanks though, professor!”

You saw him pinch the bridge of his nose like he was silently negotiating with God for patience.

You couldn’t hear what he muttered, but it definitely sounded like cursing in at least two languages.

Suddenly, the door opened.

He marched out with an umbrella, face unreadable and terrifyingly calm. “ Okay. That’s enough.”

“ Wait—what are you—”

Before you could finish, he was beside you.

One hand held the umbrella over both of you.

The other? Dragging you—yes, literally dragging you—back toward his car.

You squeaked as he opened the passenger door and gently—but very firmly—shoved you inside like you were luggage that argued too much.

SLAM.

You sat in stunned silence, rain still dripping down your face and nose, hair plastered to your forehead.

“...Thanks?” You whispered.

He didn’t reply immediately.

He walked around, got back into the driver’s seat, slammed his door, and took a deep breath like he just dealt with the most exhausting creature in the world.

Then, in a smooth motion, he reached into the backseat, pulled out a fluffy towel, and tossed it onto your lap.

“ Dry off before you freeze to death.” He muttered.

“ Thank you, sir.” You said softly, rubbing the towel over your face and arms.

Then—bad idea incoming—you paused.

Something about the towel…it smelled good.

Like spice and rain and warm musk and a hint of soap and what was that scent?!

You discreetly leaned in and gave it a subtle sniff.

Oh my God.

It was his scent.

It was unfair.

It was addictive.

You almost wanted to wrap yourself in it and never leave.

Your eyes darted to him. You tried to act casual. “ Uhm…Professor?”

He glanced at you. “Hm?”

“ What…what’s the name of your perfume?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “ Why?”

You panicked. “ N-No reason! I just…I have a friend who…uh…likes it.”

“ Your friend, huh?” He asked, clearly not buying it.

You nodded like a bobblehead. “ Yep. Totally my friend. Definitely not me trying to buy it so we smell the same or something. That would be weird, right? Haha…”

He didn’t answer.

He just smirked.

And that smirk said everything.

The rest of the drive was quiet—but the air?

Oh, it was thick.

Tension buzzed between you, warm and unspoken, like the kind of static before a storm.

And despite being soaked to the bone, you’d never felt warmer in your life.

...

The rain pounded harder against the windshield as if the sky itself was protesting what was happening inside the car.

The wipers struggled to keep up, smearing city light into long, blurry streaks across the glass.

It felt surreal—like the whole world outside had melted away, and all that was left was the small, heated space between you and him.

Young-il’s jaw was tight, his grip on the wheel bone-white.

His chest rose and fell just a little too fast.

He’d missed the turn minutes ago, and you caught it.

“ You missed the turn.” You said, voice low but accusing.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, playing dumb—terribly. “ Did I?”

You gave him a look. “ Yes.”

But you didn’t press it.

Because part of you wanted this drive to go on.

Just a little longer.

You shifted in your seat, adjusting your bag, your skirt, yourself—just trying to get comfortable.

But in the process, your thigh brushed against his hand resting on the gearshift.

You froze.

So did he.

It was just skin.

Just an accidental touch.

But it lit something.

Young-il’s fingers twitched.

His breathing hitched.

You cursed silently at your school uniform—your skirt already feeling too short, too revealing.

You’d spent the whole ride tugging it down, but now…now you weren’t sure if that even mattered anymore.

“ I…I didn’t mean to.” You muttered, not looking at him.

He let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice had dropped—rough, deeper than before.

“ Can you please stop being fidgety?”

You blinked at him. “ Huh?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Your eyes drifted down and oh.

You caught the way his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

The way his jaw flexed.

You noticed…other things too.

Things you definitely weren’t supposed to notice about a professor.

You shifted again, instinctively trying to tug your skirt down—until you felt his gaze, heavy on your skin.

You looked at him—really looked.

He wasn’t calm.

He was barely holding it together.

“ Y/n…” He murmured.

“ Stop teasing me.”

Your heart flipped.

“ I’m not teasing you, sir.” You said—too honestly.

But then, your face flamed as you realized exactly how much skin you were showing.

You quickly pulled the fabric down, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

Mortifying.

You wanted to crawl under the seat.

But before you could say anything else, you felt it—his hand.

Warm, slow, and deliberate as it reached across the console and grazed your thigh.

Just the faintest touch, but it shot through you like electricity.

You gasped softly.

You couldn’t stop it.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, trying to stay silent, trying to stay composed—but your body betrayed you.

You could feel the heat rising between your legs, and it made you feel insane.

Guilty. Nervous. Excited.

The car was too quiet.

Too hot.

Outside, the storm screamed on, but in here, everything was tense and silent—except for your heartbeat.

Young-il suddenly veered the car toward a quieter street and found a discreet place to park.

His movements were sharp, his eyes focused and dangerous.

When the car settled, he didn’t move for a moment.

Then…

“ Y/n...” He said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “ Hmm?”

He looked at you like a man at the edge of a cliff, and you were the drop.

“ Do you want me to pretend I don’t want to kiss you right now?”

Your breath caught.

You could lie.

You should lie.

You should laugh it off, make a joke, avoid this moment like a normal person.

But you couldn’t.

Because everything in your body screamed yes.

You licked your lips, heart pounding.

“ I…I don’t know what I want.”

He leaned just a little closer.

Close enough for you to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his breath hitched.

“ I think you do.” He whispered.

Your fingers twitched on your lap.

You were shaking—and not from the cold anymore.

It was anticipation.

It was fear.

It was desire in its purest, most dangerous form.

And when he moved an inch closer, you didn’t pull away.

You just whispered, “ Then stop wasting time, professor.”

Young-il restraint snapped.

With one smooth motion, he reached for you, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled you in.

Their lips are now finally met.

They are yearning for it for a while.

Since the two of you aren't sure of putting a label on their relationship because this forbidden type of love is not acceptable in the society.

That's why they are scared of doing something that the two of you might regret after you do it.

But this time, they don't care about everyone.

They finally give in.

There's no reason anymore to fight their feelings.

They already build their own world to do whatever they want to do in their lives.

Young-il's kiss started soft, then deeper and hungrier.

You gasped against his mouth, and he drank it in, savoring the way you melted into him.

He unbuckled his seatbelt as well as yours then he dragged you into his lap.

You perfectly seated on top of him and you felt his hardness poking to your wetness.

Your thighs are either on the side of his.

Young-il's hand slid down, tracing the curve of your waist, his fingertips pressing just hard enough to make you shiver.

You let out a soft moan as your body is aching for him.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is warm, uneven.

“ Y/n...” He murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

His lips found hers again, harder than this time, needier.

You gasped against in his mouth as his hand roamed—slow, possessive, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Young-il didn't rush.

He wants to savor this, savor you.

He pulled away.

The two of you are now catching your breaths.

“ Y/n, jagi.” He growled, his voice rough, edge with something dark and desperate.

“ Yes?” You asked.

“ You have no idea what you do to me.” He murmured.

The space inside of the car had shrunk to nothing.

Every breath, every movement, every whispered world felt magnified.

“ Fuck, Y/n.” He groaned, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your skirt, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his palms.

“ You're driving me crazy.” He admitted, voice low and rough.

Young-il surged forward as he captured your lips again.

This time with no hesitation—just heat, raw and unfiltered.

His hands roamed freely now, tracing every curve, memorizing every soft sigh and moans coming from your mouth.

You arched into him, pressing closer, your hands wrapped around his neck as you rocked yourself against him, finding a better friction to satisfy the needs of your body.

“ This is bad.” He murmured against her lips.

“ But we are already doing it.” You responded, making him chuckle.

You gasped softly as his lips found the curve of your throat, trailing downward, his stubble gazing against your sensitive skin.

You tugged at his pants, your breath shallow as you slid closer, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“ Young-il…I…I need you.”

Your voice was soft but full of fire, and Young-il's control snapped. His hands are gripping your thighs, pulling you closer to him, the kiss deepening again.

The rain beats heavily against the windows, a steady rhythm echoing inside the car.

Every breath you take feels heavy, your soaked clothes clinging to your skin, sticking to every curve as you slide closer.

" Young-il…" You breathe, voice trembling but laced with that desperate fire.

Your fingers tug at the waistband of his pants, eyes dark with need.

" I need you."

For a second, he freezes—jaw clenched, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Your words—soft, needy—shatter whatever restraint he had left.

" Fuck…" He growls under his breath, hands snapping to your thighs, gripping them hard, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t anchor you.

In one fluid motion, he yanks you forward until you’re straddling him, your soaked bodies pressing together.

" Say it again." He rasps, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low and wrecked.

Your lips tremble as you repeat it, " I need you…need you so bad, Young-il…"

That’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes onto yours—deep, possessive, tasting the rain on your lips as if it drives him mad.

The kiss is wet, messy, teeth clashing, tongues tangling.

There’s no space between your bodies, just the wet slide of fabric, skin, and heat.

" Fuck, you’re soaked." He groans against your lips, hands running up your thighs, squeezing hard.

" Look at you…dripping wet and climbing on top of me like that. You know what that does to me, don’t you?"

You nod, breath hitching, grinding your hips down against the hard length pressing against his jeans.

" I don’t care." You whisper, your forehead resting against his.

" I need you…right now…"

Young-il curses under his breath, hands moving to your waist, gripping tight. " You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart…I’m not gonna be gentle if you keep looking at me like that."

The heat between you burns hotter than the rain outside, the windows fogging as your bodies move—desperate, soaked, needing more.

" Then don’t be." You whisper.

" I don’t want you to be."

And that’s it.

The last thread of his control snaps.

The car becomes your world—rain hammering against the roof, clothes sticking to skin, and the sound of your moans swallowed by the storm as Young-il claims you right there, unable to wait a second longer.

Young-il’s grip on your waist tightens, his lips barely leaving yours as he growls low, the sound vibrating through your soaked body.

" You don’t even know." He pants, voice wrecked,

" How long I’ve dreamed of this…fuck—how many times I’ve thought about you just like this…"

His hands slide down, fingers digging into your ass as he pulls you harder against the bulge straining in his jeans.

" Soaked, trembling…fucking needing me."

You whimper, head falling against his shoulder as your hips roll instinctively, the friction almost unbearable.

" You wanna know how many times I fucking came...just thinking about this?" He rasps, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and ragged.

" Thinking about your pretty little mouth…that tight body…how you’d sound moaning my name like that…"

Your breath catches, thighs tightening around him.

" Y-Young-il…"

He chuckles darkly, pressing kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin.

" Yeah…you got no idea, baby. You’d walk past me every goddamn day…flashing that smile…laughing with him—" His jaw clenches, voice dropping lower, darker.

You shiver. " Him?"

" Keiron." He spits the name like it burns.

" Every time I saw you with him…the way those idiots teased you two…I wanted to fucking snap."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze—eyes dark, full of hunger and something more dangerous.

" Do you have any fucking idea…how jealous I was?" His voice trembles with how much he’s holding back.

" How bad I wanted to drag you away…bend you over right there in front of them—and fuck you ‘til they all knew you were mine?"

Your breath leaves you in a shaky moan, your soaked panties clinging to you as his filthy words hit you like a wave.

" You don’t get it…You’re fucking mine. You’ve always been mine." He grinds his hips up hard, the pressure making your head spin.

" I’d watch you blush…laugh with him…and all I could think about was how good your throat would look wrapped around my cock…or how tight you’d feel when I finally get inside you."

" Y-Young-il…" You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

" You’re wet, aren’t you?" He smirks, voice breathless but smug.

" Soaked—and it’s not just the rain." His hand slides between your bodies, palming your heat through the drenched fabric.

" Fuck…just like I imagined. You were made for me."

Your hips jerk, the friction sending sparks through you as he keeps whispering the filthiest things in your ear—things he’s dreamed of, things he’s needed to say.

" Tell me, baby…" His voice softens just enough, teasing but low.

" Did you ever think about me? When they teased you with him…did you imagine me pulling you away and making you scream my name instead?"

You nod, unable to speak—completely undone by him.

" Good." He growls, dragging his soaked lips over your jaw.

" Because that’s what’s gonna happen now. You’re not walking out of this car until you know who fucking owns you."

The air between you feels electric—thick with lust, jealousy, and months of pent-up desire finally snapping loose.

Young-il’s breathing hard now, his pupils blown wide with pure, filthy desire as he stares at you—soaked, trembling, wrapped around him and begging for it.

" Get in the backseat." He growls suddenly, voice rough and commanding.

" Now."

You scramble off his lap, heart hammering, and barely settle on the leather seat when he’s on you—shoving your wet clothes aside like they’re nothing.

He rips your panties down your thighs, lips curling into a dark smirk at the sight of you.

" Fuck…" He breathes, staring at your glistening pussy like it’s the only thing in the world.

" You’re dripping. You really got this wet just from hearing how I’ve been dreaming of ruining you, huh?"

You whimper, nodding as your thighs instinctively try to close—but he’s faster, forcing them apart with his strong hands.

" Don’t you fucking hide from me now." He growls.

" I’m gonna taste every fucking inch of you."

And then his mouth is on you.

He groans deep against your pussy, tongue diving in hungrily, like he’s been starving for this—starving for you.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you mix with the rain outside, filthy and obscene as his tongue works you open.

" Shit—Young-il—" Your back arches, hands flying to his soaked hair as he sucks your clit hard, then flattens his tongue, dragging it slowly and deep through your folds.

" You taste even better than I fucking imagined." He groans, voice muffled against your core.

" Fuck, baby…I could stay down here all night."

His hands tighten on your thighs, spreading you wider as his tongue flicks, circles, and devours you.

Every filthy confession, every dark fantasy he’d whispered is now in every stroke of his mouth.

" You think Keiron could ever make you sound like this?" He growls between licks.

" Think he could ever make you cum just from his fucking mouth?"

" N-no." You cry out, hips bucking against him.

" Only you— Young-il, please—fuck, please don’t stop—"

He smirks against your clit. " That’s right. Only me."

And then he doubles down—sucking your clit, tongue pressing relentlessly as his fingers join in, curling deep inside you.

" Cum for me." He growls,

" Right on my tongue, baby. Show me who fucking owns you."

Your body snaps, the orgasm ripping through you so violently your vision goes white.

You scream his name, shaking, sobbing as he keeps licking—drinking down everything you give him.

" That’s it." He groans, lips still wrapped around you.

" That’s fucking mine."

And even as you twitch and beg for mercy, he doesn’t stop—his mouth claiming you over and over until your thighs are trembling, tears in your eyes from how good it feels.

Finally, when you’re nothing but a ruined, shaking mess, he pulls back—his lips glistening, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

" I’ve waited so long for this.” He murmurs, leaning up to kiss you hard—making you taste yourself on his tongue.

" And it was worth every fucking second.”

Your chest is still heaving, body trembling from the orgasm he just tore out of you.

Young-il pulls back slowly, lips swollen, chin wet with you as he stares—utterly wrecked and proud of what he’s done.

But the dark hunger in his eyes isn’t satisfied.

Not yet.

" Get on your knees." He rasps, voice rough with need.

You blink, dazed, lips parted as you try to catch your breath—but his gaze pins you in place. " Now, sweetheart."

There’s no room to argue, no teasing left—just raw command.

You slide down from the seat, hands shaky as you kneel between his legs, the cramped space of the backseat only making it feel more desperate.

Young-il groans, leaning back as he undoes his soaked jeans, pulling his cock free—thick, hard, the tip already glistening.

" See what you fucking do to me?" He growls, gripping the base.

" You’re gonna take care of this, yeah? Just like a good girl."

Your mouth waters at the sight, and you nod, unable to look away. " Yes…I want to…"

He smirks, voice dropping lower. " Then do it. Open that pretty mouth."

You obey, lips parting slowly, eyes flicking up to meet his.

The moment your tongue brushes his tip, Young-il curses—his hips twitching as he fists your hair hard. " Fuck…just like that…"

You swirl your tongue around him, tasting the salt and need as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks.

He lets out a ragged groan, head falling back against the seat.

" You’ve no fucking idea how many times I dreamed of this." He growls, forcing his gaze back down to you.

" On your knees for me…those pretty lips wrapped around my cock…fuck, baby— you’re perfect."

His words only make you moan around him, sending vibrations up his shaft that make him curse again.

" Shit…keep going…take more…I know you can."

You press forward, letting him slide deeper until he hits the back of your throat, your eyes watering—but you don’t stop.

The look of pride and possession on Young-il’s face makes the ache between your legs spark all over again.

" Look at you…so good for me…" He pants, voice strained.

" Keiron could never have this…no one fucking could. Only me."

He starts to move his hips, slow but deep—fucking your mouth as he watches you drool, your lips stretched wide around him.

" That’s it…take it, baby…take all of me."

The car fills with the sound of wet sucking, his groans, and the rain hammering down—everything blurring except the taste of him, the weight of him, and the filthy things he’s whispering just for you.

" I’m not gonna last." He growls, voice strained.

" You’re too good…fuck—where do you want it, baby? On your tongue? Your face? You tell me.”

Young-il stares down at you—lips parted, chest heaving, completely lost in how you look kneeling there for him.

But then, with a sharp breath, he grabs your wrist and pulls you up—rough but still careful—dragging you back onto his lap.

" Enough." He growls, his voice trembling with need.

" I need to be inside you—right fucking now."

Before you can process it, he shifts, his soaked jeans barely tugged down, your drenched clothes pushed aside just enough.

He lines himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing right against your entrance.

" You ready, sweetheart?" He murmurs, voice softer now—gentler, though the strain is clear.

" You tell me if it’s too much. I’ll stop…okay?"

You nod, biting your lip, but the need in your eyes is undeniable. " I want it…I want you, Young-il."

With a groan, he pulls you down slowly—his hands gripping your hips tightly as he sinks into you inch by inch.

" Fuck…you’re tight." He gasps, voice breaking.

" Shit, baby…you’re squeezing me so good— you’re perfect."

You wince, your nails digging into his shoulders as the stretch burns—your body trembling against his.

" Y-Young-il…it’s…big…"

His arms immediately wrap around you, holding you still, his lips brushing your ear.

" I know, baby…I know. Just breathe…take your time." He presses soft kisses to your neck, voice soothing as his hands rub gentle circles on your back.

" You’re doing so good…fuck…better than I ever dreamed."

You rest your forehead against his, panting, feeling every inch of him filling you—stretching you wider than you ever imagined.

" That’s it…just like that." He whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he forces himself not to move.

" God…you feel so good around me…so fucking tight. Like you were made for me."

Tears prick your eyes from the overwhelming feeling—pleasure and pain mixing into something dizzying.

" You okay?" He breathes, watching you closely.

You nod slowly, starting to adjust, your hips twitching. " Y-Yeah…just…stay like this a little…"

" Anything you want." He whispers, kissing your temple.

" I’ve got you…I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. Taking me so good…first time and you’re already making me lose my mind."

You relax into him, breathing through it as his praise melts the ache into something new—something needy.

" Whenever you’re ready." He growls low,

" I’ll give you everything. Just say the word, sweetheart."

The rain keeps pounding outside—but inside, it’s just the two of you…tangled, breathless, and on the edge of something unforgettable.

You stay there for a moment—his arms wrapped tightly around you, his lips brushing your temple as you breathe through the overwhelming stretch of him filling you.

" You okay, sweetheart?" He whispers, voice hoarse, barely holding himself back.

" Tell me when…"

You shift your hips slowly, testing the burn, feeling how impossibly full you are—and yet…the need sparks hotter.

You nod against his shoulder. " Y-Young-il…you can move…"

His breath stutters at your words. " Fuck…baby…alright…I’ve got you."

Slowly—so fucking slowly—he rolls his hips up, just a shallow movement, dragging himself out an inch before sinking back in.

You both moan at the feeling—his hands gripping your waist tight like he’s anchoring himself.

" Fucking hell…you’re so fucking tight." He groans, voice breaking.

" So warm…squeezing me so good. Do you feel that? How perfect do you fit around me?"

You gasp, fingers clutching his shoulders as the slow glide sends sparks through your core. " Y-Yeah…I feel it…"

" That’s it…good girl…" He pants, kissing along your jaw,

" Taking me so well, sweetheart…making me lose my fucking mind already."

He does it again—another slow thrust, a little deeper this time, dragging along your sensitive walls until your breath hitches, hips starting to roll into him instinctively.

" God—that’s it, move those hips for me, baby… ride me slow…nice and slow." He growls, lips brushing against your ear.

" Let me feel you…every fucking inch of you."

You start moving, lifting yourself just barely before sinking back down, the delicious friction pulling a deep, guttural groan from his throat.

" You’re perfect…made for me…" He whispers,

" You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now."

Every slow movement is filled with his praise—his lips never far from your skin, hands never easing up as he guides you.

" I dreamed about this…about how you’d look on top of me…fucking yourself on my cock…and fuck, baby, it’s even better."

You whimper, your body finding a rhythm, your walls fluttering around him as the stretch begins to melt into pleasure—his praise fanning the fire burning deep inside you.

" That’s it…keep going…let me feel you. You’re doing so good, sweetheart…so fucking good for me."

The car rocks slightly with your slow movements, the windows fogging up, the sound of your breaths and his filthy praises filling the space—thick, intimate, raw.

" Tell me how it feels." He growls, voice tight.

" Tell me who’s making you feel this good."

" You, Young-il…only you…" You gasp, hips grinding down harder.

His eyes darken, jaw clenched. " Damn right…only me.”

Young-il groans deep as you find your rhythm, riding him slowly but getting bolder—rolling your hips, sinking down harder each time.

The wet sound of your body meeting fills the air, mixing with his ragged breathing and your soft whimpers.

" Fuck…baby…look at you." He pants, hands sliding up your waist, trailing higher until they’re cupping your bouncing chest.

" So perfect…riding me like you were made for this…"

You moan, head tipping back as your body moves on instinct, the pleasure building fast now.

Your breasts bounce with every thrust—right in front of him, taunting him.

Young-il’s control snaps.

With a growl, he surges forward, mouth latching onto your chest—tongue dragging across your nipple before sucking hard.

" Mine." He growls against your skin.

" All fucking mine."

You cry out, hands flying to his hair as he devours you—licking, sucking, biting just hard enough to leave those dark, possessive marks blooming across your skin.

" You feel that?" He pants, voice breaking as his hips start thrusting up to meet yours, rough and desperate.

" That’s me…claiming you…fuck—no one gets to see you like this…no one gets to hear you like this but me."

" Young-il…" You sob, the way he’s marking you—owning you—only driving your pleasure higher.

He sucks another bruise into your soft skin, groaning loudly.

" Look at you…fuck…bouncing on my cock like a good girl while I mark you up…you love this, don’t you?"

" Y-Yes…I love it…love you…" You gasp, rolling your hips down hard.

" Say it again." He growls, licking the mark he just left, then biting down again.

" Fucking say it while I’m buried inside you."

" I love you, Young-il…" You cry out,

" I’m yours…only yours…"

" Damn right." He snarls, hands gripping your hips hard as he starts thrusting up into you—deeper, rougher now, barely able to hold back.

" Gonna fuck you so deep they’ll know who you belong to just by the way you walk."

His mouth stays latched onto your chest—licking, biting, owning you completely as your body breaks apart on top of him.

" You’re so fucking perfect." He groans against your skin.

" So good for me…don’t you dare stop, baby—ride me until you cum all over my cock."

The car rocks harder now, the windows dripping with condensation, the sound of his mouth on your chest and your broken cries filling the space.

Young-il is lost in you—licking, sucking, marking—while his cock pounds up into you, desperate to make you his in every way.

Young-il’s thrusts grow rougher—desperate, relentless—as he holds you down on him, his mouth still worshipping your chest, teeth scraping over sensitive skin.

The sting of his possessive marks only fuels the fire building inside you.

" Fuck—baby—" He growls, voice shaking,

“ You feel that? How deep am I? You’re milking my cock— squeezing me so fucking tight—"

You sob, your body trembling, nails dragging down his back as you ride him harder, chasing the heat coiling in your belly.

" Young-il—I…I can’t—"

" Yes, you can." He growls, hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure he’ll leave bruises.

" You’re gonna cum for me. Right now. Cum all over my cock—show me who owns this tight little pussy."

Your eyes roll back, pleasure snapping through you like lightning as your orgasm rips free—your walls clenching down around him so hard it pulls a strangled groan from his throat.

" F-Fuck—Young-il!" You scream, collapsing forward into his chest as your body shakes, pussy spasming around him uncontrollably.

" That’s it…that’s my good girl…fuck—" He grits, losing the last thread of control as your orgasm pulls him under.

His hips slam up, chasing his own release until he’s burying himself as deep as he can go.

" I’m gonna—fuck—baby—I’m cumming…"

He growls, his voice breaking as he spills inside you, filling you with every pulse of his cock.

" Take it—take all of me…"

You whimper, clinging to him as you feel the heat of him flooding your insides—his mouth still on your skin, whispering filthy praise through every desperate thrust.

" So good…so fucking perfect…mine…"

The two of you ride it out, bodies shaking, pressed together as tightly as possible—completely lost in each other until the only sound left is your heavy breathing and the rain outside.

He doesn’t let go—his arms locked around you, his lips brushing soft kisses over every mark he left.

" You did so fucking good, sweetheart…I’m so proud of you.”

The car is silent now, except for the sound of your labored breathing and the steady drum of the rain outside—steam fogging up the windows, the air thick with sex and sweat.

You’re still trembling in his lap, your body spent and twitching from the intensity of it all.

Young-il’s arms remain locked around you like he’s terrified to let go—his cock still buried deep inside you, softening slowly but not yet leaving that tight warmth.

" Shit…" He groans against your neck, his voice hoarse, ruined.

" You…you fucking wrecked me, baby."

You shudder at his words, your lips brushing his ear as you breathe out, " You ruined me first…"

That pulls a dark, breathless chuckle from him, his hands smoothing up your back, fingertips tracing over the new bruises blooming on your skin.

" Look at you…marked up so fucking pretty…can’t wait to see these in the morning, sweetheart."

Your face burns, but you don’t move—you can’t.

Every inch of your body feels too sensitive, your thighs shaking from how hard you came, your core fluttering weakly around him as his release slowly drips from where you’re still connected.

Young-il feels it too—groaning deep as his hips shift just a little, grinding into you lazily, possessively.

" God…the way you’re still clenching around me…I could stay like this all night."

" Feels…so full." You whisper, voice barely there.

" I can feel you…everywhere."

" That’s right." He murmurs against your skin, nipping your shoulder softly.

" I want you to feel me for days, baby. I want you walking around remembering exactly who fucking owns you."

You whimper, burying your face in his neck as your body shivers—still raw, still aching—but so full of him you don’t care.

Young-il presses kiss after kiss along your jaw, down your neck, over every bruise and bite mark.

" You did so good for me…took me so fucking well…" He breathes, voice filled with so much pride it makes your chest ache.

" I don’t ever wanna let you go, you know that?"

" Then don’t…" You whisper.

" Stay…just like this…"

" I’m not going anywhere." He promises, his lips ghosting over yours, his forehead pressing against yours.

" Not after this. Not after finally having you."

You stay like that, tangled, messy, completely spent—his cock still inside you, his cum slowly leaking out—but neither of you caring, both too lost in the feeling of finally belonging to each other.

Young-il finally lets out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as he shifts beneath you.

" Baby…I gotta pull out." He murmurs, kissing your jaw softly even as his voice carries that lingering edge of hunger.

" You okay?"

You nod weakly, biting your lip, already dreading the emptiness. " Yeah…"

Slowly, he pulls back—groaning deep in his chest the second he feels the way your walls cling to him, refusing to let go.

" Fuck…so greedy for me, even now…"

And then he’s out, leaving you breathless and trembling as your body instantly reacts—his cum mixed with your release oozing out in thick, messy streams, coating your thighs.

Young-il stares, completely hypnotized by the sight.

" Goddamn…" He growls, his cock twitching at the obscene mess he made of you.

" Look at that, sweetheart…look what we did."

Before you can even catch your breath, he leans back just enough—gripping his slick, still half-hard length—and slaps it against your soaked, sensitive pussy.

The wet sound echoes through the car, and you jolt with a soft cry, your hips twitching.

" Ah—Young-il…"

His lips curl into a dark smirk, eyes locked on your ruined, dripping hole. " You hear that? Fuck…you’re so messy for me. Could watch this all fucking day."

He does it again—another wet slap against your swollen clit—pulling a whimper from your throat as your thighs tremble.

" Still sensitive, huh?" He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your temple.

" I know, baby…but you take it so well. You’re perfect."

His hand strokes himself lazily, spreading the mixture of both of you over your folds—rubbing it in, making sure you feel it, his breath hot against your ear.

" I swear, if we weren’t in this car, I’d bend you over again…stuff every drop back inside you…"

You shiver, your body clenching weakly at his filthy words. " Young-il…"

" Shh…" He soothes, kissing your neck, still rubbing his length lazily against you.

" I know, baby…let me just…enjoy this a little longer.”

Young-il finally lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, his lips brushing over your cheek. " Alright, sweetheart… let’s clean you up." He murmurs, voice low but tender.

Carefully, he reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out some tissues—his gaze flicking down to where your mixed release is still dripping from your sore, swollen pussy.

" Shit…look at you." He smirks, shaking his head like he can’t believe how wrecked you are.

" I made such a mess of you, huh?"

You whimper, cheeks flushing as he starts wiping you gently—his touch slow, almost reverent. " S-Sorry for the mess…"

" Don’t apologize." He growls softly.

" I fucking love seeing you like this…dripping with me."

He takes his time, cleaning you up carefully, his fingers lingering every now and then just to hear you gasp or squirm.

" Sensitive, baby?" He teases, brushing over your inner thighs as he leans in to press a kiss against your temple.

" You’re perfect like this…all soft and pretty."

Once he’s done, he helps you shift, grabbing your crumpled uniform.

" C’mon…arms up." He murmurs, helping you slide into your blouse again, buttoning it up with surprising gentleness.

Then, as you reach for your underwear, he smirks—grabbing them before you can.

" Nuh-uh…these?" He dangles them in front of you, eyes dark with mischief.

" I’m keeping these."

" Young-il!" You gasp, reaching out, but he stuffs your soaked panties right into his pocket, grinning.

" No way I’m giving them back. Not after what we just did."

" You can’t be serious—"

" Dead serious." He laughs, leaning in to steal a slow, teasing kiss.

" You’ll just have to sit through the rest of the day knowing I’ve got these…and remembering exactly how messy I made you."

" You’re terrible…" You mumble, face burning as he grins wider.

" And you love it." He hums, tucking your skirt back into place before cupping your face gently.

" Now…be a good girl and finish your remaining night…but just know I’ll be thinking about this—about you—the whole fucking time."

His lips brush yours again, soft but lingering. " And when school’s over…I’m not done with you.”

His words linger in the air, thick with promise, as he presses one last kiss to your lips—slow, possessive, like he’s sealing it all in place.

You sit there breathless, flushed, while Young-il smirks, leaning back with your panties tucked safely in his pocket.

The rain still taps gently against the windows, the car filled with the heavy scent of sex and lingering touches.

Neither of you says another word—there’s no need.

The look in his eyes tells you everything.

And just like that…the scene fades—leaving only the warmth, the ache, and the taste of what’s still to come.

Tags: @frontwomann @violet-eng

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