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sikkkko · 10 days ago

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wet the bed — sjy

— soft people fucks the loudest.

content tags: established relationship, sub!jake&reader, jay cameo, explicit content (smut) unprotected sex, multiple sex position: 69, doggy style, mating press. squirting, overstimulation. lots of whining and moaning, they fuck like rabbits :) MDNI. WC:2.4k

note: this is a request from an anon, hope u like it!

Who the fuck decided that two soft, submissive people in bed are automatically boring?

"Too vanilla," they say with wrinkled noses and half-laughs, like they know what happens when the lights go out.

You and Jake have been together for nearly five years—since the final months of high school, when you stumbled into something that felt a little too gentle to be real, too safe to be intense. Most people around you just don’t get it. They whisper that your relationship is sweet, sure, but stale. Predictable. Lifeless, even.

But they don’t know a damn thing.

They don’t know that you and Jake don’t need dominance or power games to melt each other down into quivering pieces. You don’t play roles. You don’t lead or follow. You move, he moves. You're both responsive, both hungry, both gentle in ways that burn just as deep. It’s not about who takes control—it's about how far you’re both willing to unravel for each other.

If those assholes could see what actually happens behind closed doors, they'd choke on their smug assumptions.

"Nghh—baby..." Jake's voice is slurred, barely even speech anymore. His face is buried between your legs, the heat of his breath searing against you, tongue dragging slow as he works you over.

And fuck, you are gone, head thrown back, hips twitching, thighs trembling around his ears.

The only soundtrack is the obscene wetness of his mouth on you, your choked moans, and the blaring growl of an electric guitar seeping through the wall, his room mate, Jay’s latest desperate attempt to drown out the symphony of you and Jake destroying each other.

It doesn’t work.

Your ears are ringing. Your vision blurs every time your spine arches off the mattress. Your legs are shaking so hard they barely stay hooked around his shoulders. Your body is covered in bruises and teeth marks. Jake’s arms are clawed raw, red streaks down to his elbows from where you grabbed and dug in, helpless under the waves he pulled from you again and again and again.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come, how many times you’ve done the same to him. It's a haze. A loop. An exchange of pleasure until your bones feel hollow.

You barely catch your breath before his fingers are inside you again, curling just right, his mouth crashing into yours, swallowing your moans as you clench around him and cum hard enough to see stars. Your hand slips between you, wrapping around him, stroking with messy urgency until he gasps into your mouth and spills across your stomach.

Then comes the slow grind of hips in missionary, Jake above you, eyes glassy, sweat dripping down his temple. He pushes in deep, moaning into your throat while you clutch at his back, legs locked around his waist, and both of you fall together again.

Vanilla, their ass.

The aftershocks haven’t even stopped vibrating through your bones when Jake rolls off of you, chest heaving, lips parted. He sprawls across the sheets, flushed and trembling.

Without a word, you swing a leg over him, straddling his face. He groans like a man starved as your thighs settle against the sides of his head, and your gaze lowers to his cock. thick, flushed, and still rock hard despite having cum four fucking times already.

You lean down, tongue flicking out to tease the head, your breath warm over his slick skin. His hips twitch instantly, a soft, choked whine escaping from under you.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, voice muffled between your thighs.

You take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him, the way his whole body tenses beneath you. At the same time, you feel his tongue drag through your folds.

You moan around his cock, the vibration making him jerk. You grind back against his mouth, and he groans right into your cunt, tongue sliding in and curling upward. He hardens it, fucking you with it, slow and deep, as your hips begin to roll.

It’s a filthy rhythm—your mouth stretching around him, sucking harder, faster, your spit dripping down his shaft while he licks and licks and licks, tongue relentless, hands gripping your ass as he pulls you tighter against his face. Your thighs clamp down on instinct, not letting him breathe, not letting him stop.

You feel the familiar pulse in your core and the slight twitch of his cock against your tongue, he’s close, again. You squeeze him tighter with your lips, hollow your cheeks, and the sound he makes is damn near ruined. His whine hits a high pitch, hips jerking once, twice and then he spills into your mouth. You swallow it greedily.

Jake latches onto your clit now, sucking, and you are barely holding on, every nerve burning. Your whole body is tensed, arms braced against his thighs, cunt pulsing uncontrollably around his tongue. Your thighs clamp even tighter, grinding down until he can’t even moan, just hums and licks and loses himself.

Jake loves it—loves how wet you get, how you suffocate him with your thighs like it’s nothing, how your pussy clenches around his tongue. He loves the little tremble in your legs, the broken cries you try to stifle, the taste of your arousal dripping down his chin.

"Jake, fuck! I'm gonna cum!" you squeal, your voice shaking, one hand fisting around his softening cock, feeling it twitch, swell, harden again.

Your hips grind down one last time, helpless, chasing that final drag of his tongue as your orgasm hits. You cry out, body shaking above him, pussy spasming around his mouth. Your forehead presses to his thigh, gasping, and you barely manage to keep sucking him as your world shatters again.

Jake lets out a high whine, hips twitching upward into your mouth. He’s still so fucking hard, again. You can feel it, thick and throbbing between your lips.

He moves again as another orgasm crashes into the both of you.

Another orgasm.

And another.

You lose count. Time folds. The two of you are always going at it like rabbits, bodies slick and tangled, pleasure drawn out like it might never end. At some point you’re flat on your back again, back arched off the wet bed, sheets soaked with sweat and everything else, Jake’s mouth between your legs for what feels like the hundredth time.

You’re delirious, you feel like you are floating.

He pulls back, lips shiny, chin drenched. You barely get the chance to breathe before he’s kneeling between your thighs, jerking himself off with quick, rough strokes. His eyes are locked on your chest, on the rise and fall of your breath, on your wrecked body twitching with aftershocks. He grits his teeth, then pulls his cock free, aiming it at you.

You're hypnotized.

By the way it twitches. By the way his jaw clenches. By the way his abs tighten and he throws his head back with a broken moan as hot ropes of cum spill across your chest, painting your skin with another climax that somehow hits just as hard as the first.

And still, he's not done.

Jake leans forward, one hand smearing the mess across your breasts, mouth crashing into yours with wild hunger. His cock presses against your thigh, still hard and leaking.

"You want more?" he pants against your lips, voice hoarse, almost disbelieving at how far you both keep falling.

You nod, eyes wide, lips parted. Jake flips you over in one smooth motion, pushing you onto your hands and knees, body trembling beneath him. His hands grip your hips, pushing inside again, deep, slow, a stretch that feels impossibly full despite how soaked you are.

You both moan at once. And then he starts to move, hips snapping into you, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, drowning out even Jay’s music, which is now thundering through the walls in one last futile attempt to ignore what’s happening just a few feet away.

“Ahh, fuck, Jake, baby!” you cry out, fingers clawing at the twisted sheets as the rhythm builds.

Jake groans behind you, bracing himself with both hands on yours, pinning you to the mattress as he drives deeper, rougher. You love this position—God, how you love it. He finds every spot, angles his hips just right until you’re gasping, sobbing into the mattress.

“We’re so fucking good together,” Jake pants into your ear, his voice shaking with need, “Fuck.” His lips find your neck, kissing everywhere he can reach, hot, sloppy, open-mouthed, desperate to mark.

You tilt your head back blindly, catching his mouth in a messy kiss over your shoulder, tongues tangling, moans swallowed between breathless gasps as he starts to thrust harder, deeper, your bodies slamming together.

You’re clenching around him so hard, you can feel every ridge, every twitch of his cock. The orgasm hits, your breath catching, head lolling forward as heat floods you from the inside out. "Fuck!"

Jake keeps going through it, keeps thrusting through your high, refusing it to end. Your hips instinctively push back against him, your eyes roll back, jaw slack, pleasure crackling through every nerve.

“F-fuck, I—shit,” Jake chokes out, repositioning behind you with a sharp slap to your ass that makes your whole body jolt. He watches it jiggle with a low groan, hips snapping forward again and again. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, and your arms finally give out.

You collapse forward, face buried in the soaked mattress, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, your body slack and trembling. Completely, utterly fucked out.

“B-b-baby,” Jake stammers, leaning over you again, his chest slick and warm against your back.

You feel his arms slide beneath you, one curling tightly around your waist, the other slipping under your body to knead your breast in slow, circular motions. He’s still thrusting, slower now, but no less intense. You feel every inch, every grind of his hips, his cock dragging against your overstimulated walls as he pants against your ear.

“You can take another one for me?” he whines, voice cracking into a whisper. “P-please? Pretty—pretty please?”

You moan weakly, unable to find words, only nodding as your fingers twitch into the sheets. You’re half-asleep, fucked so deep into the mattress your limbs barely move but Jake’s still moving, still inside you.

“Don’t s-sleep, nghh, baby, fuck,” he breathes, nuzzling into your nape, teeth grazing the sweat-slick skin there before sinking in gently, biting down as his hips start to pick up again.

The pleasure's too much now, tangled with pain and pressure until your body doesn’t know the difference. You're a trembling mess, whimpering, twitching, your muscles weak from everything he's already wrung out of you.

You don't know how he's still strong enough to shift your limp body, but suddenly you're on your back, legs pushed up and pinned high beside your shoulders. His hands curl behind your knees, holding you wide open as he sinks into you again with no warning.

He grunts as he slides home, balls-deep, moaning loudly, eyes locked onto your face, drinking every twitch, every gasp, every flutter of your lashes. His hips start pounding again, relentless, slapping into your soaked cunt with wet, brutal rhythm.

Your mouth falls open, lips slack, eyes half-lidded. You can't even speak.

“Baby! L-love you—ahhh!” Jake cries out. One of his hands slips down, thumb pressing to your clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles.

You twitch violently beneath him, chest heaving, body barely holding together.

Even with your consciousness slipping—your mind half-blacked out from pleasure and fatigue—you feel it again. That same heat blooming low in your belly. Your legs are burning in the mating press, your lungs clawing for air, your head spinning.

“J-Jake, w-wait!” you sob, shaking your head from side to side, voice cracked, but his thrusts only get harder, his thumb moving faster, and ruthless.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop—just one more,” he begs, almost delirious.

“FUCK!” you scream, fingers twisting the sheets, your body shaking as it hits you. “Fuckfuckfuck!” you shriek as your entire core contracts violently. Your back arches. Your vision whites out. You feel the gush of hot liquid pulsing from your cunt, soaking the sheets, his pelvis, everything.

Jake groans loud and deep. But he doesn't stop. He keeps moving, keeps rubbing, his thumb grinding your clit as you cry out and shake under him. Your legs jerk in his grip, body trying to retreat, but he doesn’t let go.

Your voice cracks—"No! No more!"—but it's lost in the noise.

“O-one more, baby, please,” he moans as he leans over you again, his body trembling, lips brushing your ear.

Your scream rises again as his cock drags through your soaked walls, now slick with your release. You’re squeezing him so tight he’s nearly frozen in place. His eyes roll back, mouth dropping open.

“Jesus Christ, people! Tone it down!” Jay roars from the other side of the wall, banging his fist hard against it, rattling the drywall. His voice is muffled, furious, but distant and irrelevant.

Jake doesn’t even blink. He’s too far gone. His hands tighten around your thighs as he slams forward, again and again, slick friction loud and obscene, the slap of your bodies echoing through the room.

“Last one,” he gasps. “Fuuuuck, baby, fuck—!”

You scream again, nails digging into his wrists as your body explodes for the final time—another hot gush forced from your cunt, a violent surge that splashes his abdomen and thighs. Jake throws his head back and howls, the tension in his spine snapping as you clamp down so hard around his cock it punches the orgasm straight out of him.

He cums inside you, trembling, moaning, his voice broken and high as he spills deep, cock twitching wildly, over and over. His whole body quakes as he presses into you, emptying himself in ragged pulses that stretch on and on.

By the time it ends, you're both shaking. The room is thick with heat and the sharp, musky scent of sex, every surface damp with sweat, slick, and release.

Jake pulls out slowly, carefully, and even that soft withdrawal makes you both moan. The two of you are oversensitive.

Jake collapses beside you, arms immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close. His face buries in the crook of your neck, lips pressing the faintest kiss to your skin.

You curl into him instinctively, legs tangled, your body heavy and sore but warm in the aftermath, without another word, you both drift under—naked, tangled in each other’s arms, unconscious on a mattress you’ve completely wet the bed in.

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sikkkko · 11 days ago

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Heeseung teaching inexperienced reader how to ride him while he sucks on her titties wtfhsjshekwjekke

“fuck, baby, just like that.” heeseung moans against your breast, mouth wrapped around your nipple as his tongue flicks the sensitive bud. one hand gripped tightly on your waist while the other cups your other breast, “you’re doing so so good baby.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into his shoulders as you ride him. legs growing weak and shaky as your hips roll. the fear of you riding his cock wrong still sat at the back of your mind, but hearing heeseung’s moans and feeling his mouth switch to your other nipple shreds that fear almost away.

it wasn’t even an hour ago you sat right beside your best friend on this coach spreading nonsense chatter as you usually do as you both play video games on his tv. but somehow this idle chatter turned into a real conversation, one you were not expecting.

“what you mean you’ve never ridden a dick before?!” heeseung raises a brow at you, eyes still locked onto the fighting game you’re both playing, “you’re not a virgin, I was literally a bedroom away when you lost your v-card! and you’ve had multiple partners since then!”

you groan at the stupid memory from a high school end of the year party. heeseung dragged you to it, saying bullshit equivalent to “Y/N, it’s the end of our senior year! we are about to graduate! loosen up a bit!” then proceeded to put drinks in your hand and you somehow ended up in park sunghoon’s bedroom upstairs on your back and him between your legs after flirting with him the entire night. it wasn’t the ideal way to lose your virginity, mostly since your best friend was indeed the next bedroom over fucking the most popular girl in your class, but here we are.

“don’t remind me,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing the playstation controller onto the coffee table, “but just because i’ve slept with a few guys doesn’t mean we did anything but missionary.” which was true. you’ve had multiple partners over the last few years but they were either one night stands or quick fucks. always ended with you on your back and that’s it.

this perks and idea into heeseung’s brain, tilting his head to the side and staring up at his ceiling, “I could teach you, if you want.” you laugh way too loud. he couldn’t be serious. but you see the way he looks back at you as he too, sets the controller down, “i’m being serious, Y/N.”

you swallow, is this okay? to have your best friend teach you a new sec position? and to do it GOOD? you already know heeseung is some sex god, he brags about it all the time…so you know it would be worth it. you can’t deny and say you haven’t thought about what his cock buried deep within you felt like. and he’s practically giving handing you that pass.

“i-if you’re okay with it…” you whisper.

and god was he okay with it. heeseung didn’t hesitate pulling you into his lap and closing his mouth around yours. he could feel your tremble under his touch and fuck it was making him hard as hell. “now, just do as I say, okay?” he says between kisses, hands now cupping your ass, “but I also need you to understand at any point you feel uncomfortable tell me and we’ll stop.”

you stare in his eyes and knew, you wouldn’t want to.

heeseung keeps his eyes locked with yours as he strips you bare, loving the feeling of your hands removing his clothing afterwards. loves the swallow of your throat and heaving of your chest as you stare at his cock, mouth nearly watering at how red the tip was. heeseung has been in love with you since the day you guys met, and finally having you in his lap, naked, in his apartment was the best dream come true.

he helps guide you to where you’re hovering over him, tip pressed gently to your entrance. you clench around the small amount of him you can feel, fingers pulling at the cushion of the couch behind him. you shook with absolute fear that you’re going to be terrible at this. “slowly slide down on me,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. you do as he says, sneaking down until he filled you completely, thighs clenching his hips as you both let out a desperate moan. you’re so tightly wrapped around him and fuck he could climax just by the pressure of your cunt surrounding him.

“now,” he breathes out shakily, “start with slowly moving your hips, once you get the feel of it you can use your legs to help shift you up and down my cock. we’ll start with those two steps.”

and fuck he was going to die right here on this couch. one slow movement from you was all it took for him to fling his head back and clinch your waist, nails leaving crescent moons in your skin.

now here you are, his mouth attached to your tits as you bounce on him. what turned into just teaching you how to ride a cock resulted into a full out fuck fest. you can’t get enough of him, and he of you. you didn’t want to stop—not with how fucking good the tip of him felt as he hit your spot, treating to break the barrier that’s keeping him from fully and completely being inside of you. you knew you’d cum at any moment, the clench of your pussy was the give away of it, and heeseung knew it too.

he released his mouth from your tits, hands placed firmly at your hips and he flings his head back, your swollen nipples brushing his chest with each rock of your hips. heeseung’s pupils were dilated and face so fucked out, he was going to burst at any moment too. and you relished in it, “you’re doing so good for me baby, taking my cock so well.”

you really don’t know what came over you after hearing those words, but your fingers were in his red hair, tilting his head further back into the couch, free hand still gripping his shoulder, “fuck I love your cock,” you whimper, “i’m going to cum—“ and heeseung bucked his hips up in time with your movements, shoving himself so deep and hard into you.

“cum with me baby,” he begs, mouth gapped and eyes locked in with yours, one of his hands leaving your hip to gently wrap around your neck, giving a small and gently squeeze. that pressure along had you climaxing on him, clenching down harder and that being enough for heeseung to spill his load into you.

you drop against him, feeling his arms wrap around you, “well,” he says out of breath, “you definitely know how to ride dick now.” you hum in response, having the confidence to do so. but sit up and look at him, knowing deep down you don’t want to ride any other cock that isn’t his. and you knew he was thinking the same thing.

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sikkkko · 15 days ago

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HER VANILLA GREED (M) park sunghoon.

❛ 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝖾'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌.

featuring. enemy!park sunghoon who gets a taste of you and now he can't get enough, consumed with greed that can never be satiated─ albeit barely just quenched for a while. directory?

warnings. smut!! kinda dom!sunghoon feeling crazy. enemies pouncing on e/o, prn with bits of plot, rough sex, unprotected (wrap your willy pls), swearing, mentions of multiple acts.

part of, hold your breath event. prompts include “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” & fucking someone so good that they struggle to kiss you back. ( wordcount, 944. )

JZLYN notes ╱ hope y'all enjoy it! & if you do please leave comments & feedbacks it keeps me going! & lastly please reblog!!

you loved vanilla and sunghoon loved your vanilla.

it's uncharacteristic of him to feel this way for his enemy, definitely; but after that one time he ate you out for a heated game of dare or drink, he has just gotten addicted. so so addicted that every time he catches a glimpse of you around the house he cannot help imagining the taste of you on his tongue, the waft of your scent dancing edges on him.

it was an accident─ a one time mistake if he may say. and how it turned into a regular thing? he has no recollection of it. the only thing he remembers are the spontaneous blowjobs in the kitchen to imprudently eating you out on the couch at any given chance you both got. which is whenever considering you live together.

oral had been the go to, for the past two months. no matter how turned on you both got, you just never threaded that line of linking more closely. making out and grinding against each other, sliding his cock against your panty clad pussy, jerking him off while he fingerfucked you; moaning into each other's mouth as you finished. but never hitting it in.

but tonight something changed─ something triggered.

a night together at one of the newly opened bars downtown. shots of alcohol in your systems and raging jealousy at others pawing for your attention away from each other. it was mutual, the way you both grew desperate and covetous. like you owned the other, your prized─ no, unwarranted possession.

“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” sunghoon rasps as he slides in, inch by inch, breath by breath. calloused hands gripping the tender skin of your waist, holding you up and pulling you closer by your hips. your legs wrapped around him like a cage of lust.

the veins in his cock throb with your warm cunt engulfing him. tight, slick─ and fuck it's full of your vanilla smearing all over his throbbing and twitching length.

mind a big mush, sweating dripping along sunghhon’s silver chain dangling between your thighs as he bottoms out. hissing out a line of curses at the feeling, his grip on you tightening.

“god your pussy’s insane─ can't believe ‘was gonna miss out on this,” sunghoon mutters out in a hushed whisper, words tumbling out in a single breath as he tries to compose himself. but it's so hard. his cock is so hard and keeping himself from completely ravaging you for his pleasure is making it even harder.

the sight of you is criminally arousing. your hands clutching at sheets above your head, dress tugged down and barely hanging low above your hips. skin flushed with sweat and your breaths coming out in soft anticipating gasps while you wait for him to start moving. it's atrocious how he does not feel disgusted at the even the glimpse of his enemy laying bare and inviting and with his cock inside her.

“park, move─” you let out a demanding whine. wiggling your hips against his balls in a futile attempt with his hands holding you still.

“you don't gotta tell me,” it does not take him a second to start thrusting. pulling all the way out till the tip and pushing back in a rough, brutal and almost hurtfully bruising smack. it's always been annoying to hear you call him ‘park’ instead of his name, triggering irritation above all. but something about the way it slips and rolls off your pretty little pink tongue right now just turns him on so bad, it's sickeningly annoying. it's sickeningly lewd.

sunghoon's pace gradually increases along with his sheer desperation to somehow want you more and more even when he's balls deep in you and painfully holding in the bursts of cum threatening to gush out amid each thrust.

his hands move to cup your cheeks, squeezing your lips into a pucker before he leans down to devour them in a messy and sloppy kiss. one that you can barely keep up with. mouth falling open in wild moans and your back arching so prettily into him, he can feel the hair on your skin standing, the slight trembles passing over you and heat emanating off in quick shivers.

it drives him crazy. your drooling reflection in his eyes as he pulls away to get off at the view of you struggling to remain lucid. his thumb skimming onto your wet glossed lips and smearing it over to your cheek.

you stick your tongue out at his touch, eyes closed in a sensual lick against his fingers and sunghoon loses it. grabbing your hair to tug your head back as he starts pounding into you, crazed and frantic.

“fuck─ why do you have to be so goddamn hot, fuck fuck fuck─ this is─ fuck─ ridiculous.” he grunts out in shuddering and shaky breaths. his head thrown back and mouth fallen open alike. he still cannot believe he's fucking you, and absolutely not how fucking sinfully good it feels. his enemy and roommate, two no-zones: crossed at once. and if that was not enough already, he did not have the patience to slip on a condom. and fuck does it feel like you'll milk him out dry.

“shit i can't stand looking at you─ you're gonna make me cum so fast,” each drag, each glide so torturously pleasurable.

“then cum. fill me up,” you mumble out, managing to graze your fingers along his chest and down to his lower abs. sunghoon groans at those words, his stomach churning and clenching up at the sensations.

he's gonna turn your vanilla into vanilla whipped cream he swears.

reg taglist. @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp @laylasbunbunny @riribelle @ancnymcnzjy

event taglist. @sickntrd @matchacake2 @heebear @lostwonderwall @sunshine-skz @engenesengenes333 @soobheehoon @isagistar @heesky @jaeyungxrl

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sikkkko · 17 days ago

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bf!eunseok texts⊹₊⋆ fluff, suggestive jokes :D

an! listen to this song while reading :3 timestamps rlly don’t matter tbh!!

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sikkkko · 23 days ago

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𝖣𝖴𝖬𝖡 𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖳𝖫𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

┈─★ when your boyfriend comes back home for tour, he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨 ⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀⠀ dumbification, overstim, praise & dirty talk, messy unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, slight spit play, crying from pleasure, pet names (baby, girl girl, pretty thing / dumb thing, sweetheart) 𝘄𝗰 1.1k

elia’s notes: first post ! i hope you enjoy

wonbin walked through the front door all flushed and grinning, his bags dropping next to his feet. he outstretches his arms to you like he couldn’t wait a second longer to feel you. you barely had time to close the door behind him before he was pulling you into his lips were hot and desperate against yours, hands sliding under your t-shirt and roaming like he’d forgotten what your skin felt like.

“missed you,” he murmured, again and again between his kisses. all the while his hurried footsteps led you backwards into the bedroom. “thought about this every single fucking night.”

you tried to talk first. tried to ask him how the last show went, if he’d eaten yet, even if he was tired. instead, every word dissolved in your mouth apart the second his fingers slid into your shorts. he was trembling against you a little from need.

you looked up at him. you could see how his shirt was scrunched at the neck like he was pulling at it, his hair messy and damp with light sweat, eyes locked on you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“i’m finally here,” he breathed, fingers curling into your waist over your shirt.

“been so long,” he whispered again, forehead pressed to yours. “too long.”

and then he was kissing you again. even deeper, slower, filthier—and it only took a few more seconds for you to fall back onto the freshly washed sheets. his body was heavy over yours, mouth everywhere, hands shaking with the restraint of not just taking you right then and there.

within the next hour, he’s already got you stuffed full of him, one leg hooked over his shoulder, your body pressed deep into the mattress. you were sure he was trying to deeply bury himself inside you.

“missed this pussy so fucking much,” wonbin groans into your neck, voice all hoarse from the last string of orgasms,“you feel how good you squeeze me, baby? it’s like your body missed me too.”

your nails grip and scratch down his back, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. you were already wrecked but wonbin’s not done. not even close. tears brimmed the corners of your eyes from the sheer volume of pleasure you felt.

“so pretty when you cry,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see the way your expression twisted, lips glossy with spit and slick. “look at you…dumb little thing. can’t even talk to me, huh?”

you whimper when he slows the pace of his hips, not stopping, but now just dragging his cock painfully slow against every swollen, overstimmed inch of you. he’d already made you come twice. he hadn’t even let you down from the second one before pushing back in, and pushing you to where you were now.

“wonnie— too much, i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he cuts in, soft but still firm. he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, ever so gently before he grabs your jaw with a tight grip. “you can take it. you’re doing so good, sweetheart. just take me, yeah?”

you nod weakly, or try to at least. your head’s spinning. your body twitches every time his hips roll inside you deep and heavy. he was rocking into you slow enough to make your brain melt but strong enough to have you squirming all the same.

wonbin leans down to your face, licking his way into your mouth like he owns it. then you feel him spit on your tongue and kiss you deeply right after. he groans when you moan into it like you’re already too far gone.

“you don’t need to think, baby,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours. “i got you. just let go. let me fuck you dumb.”

your legs shake even more when he hits that spot again—the one spot that makes your back arch entirely, eyes roll, body tremble, and lips part yet not being able to form any words.

his hands trail down your sides, hips locking you in place when you try to squirm away.

“nuh uh,” he hums, “you said you missed me too. so take it. let me fill you up again. wanna watch it drip out of you after.”

your mouth opens again like you’re gonna protest, but all that comes out this time is a broken whine. your brain’s gone too hazy, the heat pooling in your gut all over again even though you swore you couldn’t come again.

wonbin’s eyes are wild, but soft when he looks down at you. “mmh, that’s it,” he praises, thumb slipping between your lips again. “my pretty little thing. all mine.”

and then he gives it to you harder and faster, no breaks, no room to breathe properly. skin slapping, the slick sound of your pussy making obscene noises each time he thrusts back in, your voice barely even there anymore.

“c’mon, baby. one more,” he growls, leaning down to grab your other leg, swinging it over his shoulder as well, so your thighs fold in tighter. his cock hitting so deep now, you see stars. “make a mess for me. let me ruin you a little more.”

you cry out loudly when your orgasm hits. it was messy, strong, causing tears to freely run down your cheeks, your body twitching like you’re being shocked. and he doesn’t stop. not when your cunt clenches around him, when you sob out his name over and over, and not even when your voice is fades, just a choked out hiccup of sound.

“fuck, you’re so good,” he hisses, grabbing your hips now, holding you down. “pussy’s so fucking good—gonna make me come. gonna fill you up so full, baby, shit—”

he slams into you one last time and groans, low and wrecked, as he spills inside you. hot and thick strings of him, cock still twitching, and you’re trembling under him. your thighs even more slick and soaked and sticky with all of it.

for a second, neither of you move. then wonbin lets himself fall forwards, caging you in with his arms, kissing your pink cheeks as you continue to whimper under him.

“you okay?” he murmurs, all breathless and low. “you still here with me, pretty girl?”

you nod weakly. barely. if he wasn’t watching and staring at you so intently, he wouldn’t have caught it.

he laughs a little, sounding so soft, so sweet after everything. “good. you were so perfect for me, baby...” and he kisses you again like he’s still starving. like he’ll never get enough, even with you utterly ruined beneath him.

“gonna keep you like this all night,” he whispers, still inside you. “messy and warm and full of me.”

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sikkkko · 29 days ago

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everyone going crazy over anton SAME 🫠 imagine surprising him at his parents’ house after not seeing him for 2 months and he’s just so insatiable, you having this perfect innocent persona & keeping a good figure in front of his family but his only wish would be to take you on the spot. his parents would notice him behaving differently but they would innocently believe that he is happy to finally be home. the secret groping, constant touching and need to be near you. i can see him on the family couch having you sit on his lap during the whole movie, not watching a single thing just having you in his arms (and on his huge cock). after hanging out he would fuck you so hard in his bed whispering about how much he missed you. would have to cover ur mouth & telling you to keep quiet or else everyone will notice how dirty you are… aftercare would be insane. he would bath you, dress you and just do everything. I need him so bad 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yeah my page looks like i’m the biggest anton stan ever and he’s not even in my bias line 😭😭

anton is mentally cursing you out right now, normally he’d find it so cute how you get along with his parents so well, helping his mum set the table and telling his dad what a big fan of his you are. making his brother laugh and his parents smile at him, telling him how lucky he has to have you. that is if you wouldn’t have sent him the most delicious picture of you in your new set (the one he picked out and bought for you) just minutes before you arrived. it’s torture for anton, knowing exactly what lies beneath your innocent appearance and having to sit back and pretend he’s not rock hard beneath his pants. having to pretend he’s just showing you around the kitchen, letting you pick out what you want to drink and not groping your tits over your shirt, frantically moving his eyes from the door, where anyone could just walk in back to your boobs in front of him.

it’s torture, having his mum call the two of you adorable when anton pulls you into his lap, only the two of knowing of the way his fingers drum against your clothed heat. burying his face in your neck to hide his breathy groans, anton knows how risky this is but he has absolutely no plans of stopping you from grinding over his dick.

and the rest of the night is torture as well, sweet torture. having placed a pillow between his bed frame and the wall to make sure he won’t wake the whole house up with his thrusts. anton’s hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans and his face hidden in the crook of your neck, teeth gently scraping against the skin to not make too much noise himself.

he knows he has to come up with some excuse why you have a hickey on your shoulder and why he had the water running at 2am, because “oh yeah we had rough sex in my childhood bedroom” won’t cut it but it was totally worth it.

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sikkkko · 1 month ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦ㅤㅤ sim jaeyun

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝓲𝗣𝗧───𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

❪ 5O1O ❫ ｡ jake 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 𝑖𝑛 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 ✿ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! making out, explicit sex, fingering, oral ( f ! receiving ), car sex, jake is a little crazy

﹙◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠﹚ first and last time writing smut, this was so stressful >< please be nice. the plot is silly .. jake is silly erm anyway a big big thanks to casey my baef for reviewing this or i would have never posted. happy reading !

OO1 I WANT YOU

jake first bumped into you during one of the university competitions. you both were volunteering for different contests, running around, and he quite literally bumped into you. apologies spun in the air and you were quick to brush it off, maybe because you were busy. it occured to him that you are very pretty.

second time, it was at the congratulatory dinner with the winners exactly two weeks later. you were incredibly happy, pouring drinks and helping others and he was incredibly curious.

third time, well— you were already in his bed. wasted, tired, satisfied, and it’s a scene that’s burned into his mind.

numbers were exchanged, you both agreed on fridays. although, it barely only stayed limited to fridays. you started calling him after your long and tiring labs and he would want a taste of you after his football coach would get on his nerves again.

the first time he was in your bed would be today. he offered to drive you back and you pulled him closer by his collar in the elevator.

you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess out of your apartment while bumping into things and making your way inside. it doesn’t really matter though. with jake, every mess leads to something good.

“oh, jake!” you moan as he thrusts into you, arms on either side of your head. sex with jake was incredible. he was caring, despite having his long dick in your tight hole, despite teasing you till he had his fill before filling you up.

he fucks you nice and gentle and his eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every single expression, to watch you as you let out the sweetest, most alluring sounds.

“you close, angel?” he grunts as he fucks you slow and deep, with so much passion. you are a wanton mess and he can only chuckle at the muddle he has made out of you, leaving you speechless and fucked to the point you are only nodding furiously, digging your nails into him.

he can see the sweat on your forehead, making your baby hairs stick to your skin. he can feel you clenching around him— you’re still so tight after he has fucked you so many times.

he kisses your neck, right above your pulse, whispering in his low yet sugary voice as he pulls all out before inching all the way inside the very next moment. “come for me, doll,”

your eyes flutter shut as he pushes into you deeper, one hand finding its way to your clit as he elevates your pleasure.

you look unreal with moonlight reflecting off your skin. he is thanking the universe for making the power go out tonight because you look breath taking, and you have taken his breath away.

his tongue runs over your lips and then into your mouth and your moans echo through his mouth when he begins to kiss you slowly. you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “g-gonna cum, jaeyun. . .”

“i know,” he breaths, feeling himself getting closer. he can feel it more than before when he glazes down at your body, all weak and hot, all because of him. it’s like a switch turning on in you when he looks at you like you belong here, and you come undone.

he pulls out with a grunt, pumping his cock on top of you before coming all over your lower stomach. he makes such a mess, although he doubts you would want it otherwise. the sheets are not a problem, he would make sure to help you clean them as a fair apology— not because he fucked you so hard you made a mess all over your sheets, but because it would happen again.

sometimes, you wonder if this is how it is supposed to be.

he immediately grabs a towel to clean you up. his actions are slow and soft and you let out a relaxed sigh at the way he trails his lips over your belly, tasting the remnant of him on his tongue. he goes further down and kisses the insides of your thigh, knowing just now it gets you all bothered.

his eyes find yours from down below, and you wonder why he looks at you like that while he wonders if you are aware that you are otherworldly.

he senses your breath even out and you slip into slumber. you are always the first one to fall asleep and he thinks it’s adorable. he covers you with a duvet, gaze refusing to leave you— who looks so angelic in the after glow, so spent, so blissfully unaware of the things you make him feel.

he guesses he should sleep on the couch but then he decides to stay and watch you longer. your eyes flutter during sleep in the most hypnotising ways and you look like you should be given everything you ever desire. you deserve to have all your wishes fulfilled, to be happy every second of life and never feel lacking. if it is the stars and moon that you want— stars and moon shall you receive.

jake realises this is the first time he has watched you sleeping for so long. he realises how lucky he is to see you like this, bare, open, content. he realises you deserve the entire world instead of some convenient sex a few times a week— the thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

his heart beats faster and he can feel his fingers clenching involuntarily over the sheets. jake realises you deserve to be sought after every day, every hour, every minute, every second, and not only on days he wants pleasure.

he thinks he is losing his mind, but he feels like a sick bastard to reduce someone like you to just sex, when you deserve to be made love to with utmost care and passion.

a voice in his head tells him he is overthinking— you agreed to this, fully sober. but he still feels an ache in his heart when he thinks about the first time he had sex with you, and he winces at his sheer stupidity for landing you in this arrangement when you deserve better.

the soft rustling of sheets turns his attention to you as you turn, hugging the other pillow in your arms. your cheeks are squished against the soft material— so pure, innocent, like a fairy.

jake feels sick to his stomach.

OO2 IN WAYS MORE THAN ONE

jake feels like the worst man to walk on god’s green earth.

his head is spinning and he can’t stop thinking about the beautiful sounds you let out while he fucked you out of your head the other day— each memory making him feel guiltier.

it’s been three days since he has seen you.

three days of pushing and pulling, of his fingers hovering over your contact to give a call back, three days of holding at the single string of reason left in him.

he avoids walking by your classes, even taking the longer route in the scorching heat. he does a complete one-eighty when he sees you from across the cafeteria, making an excuse to his friends and hurrying out.

jake is absolutely going through it because you went to your birthday party and your pictures on instagram are turning him on. he almost considers unfollowing you but ends up liking your post instead.

he thinks about all the times he has fucked you and all the sounds you let out for him and almost jerks off in the washroom stalls— almost, because he slaps himself back to reality and goes back to having his face buried deep betweent the pages of his book, this time.

“i feel like shit,” is the first thing he says as soon as he plops down on the chair next to sunghoon, immediately going for the can of soda on the table.

“did something happen?” there’s curiosity, just not enough to make him look up.

but the sound of jake popping the can open catches his attention anyway, followed by a groan from the australian. “me and yn are fucking,”

a pause. sunghoon shrugs. he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

for one, you’re really beautiful. if he didn’t know any better, sunghoon would fuck you too out of sheer jealously. and two, jake goes off about you on a weekly basis and it doesn’t take a scientist to know that he might have a thing for you.

although, having sex with your crush on a friday to friday arrangement sounds way awkward for sunghoon’s liking. “oh? good for you,”

“no— no,” jake leans over the table, really engrossed in telling his friend why this is the biggest sin he could’ve ever committed. “this need to stop. she deserves something proper, more than just convenient sex,”

and the latter can only furrow his brows at his words. jake might just be the first person to complaint about this. “is it that serious?”

“it is! she deserves more— better,” he is firm, adamant. there’s an extra emphasis on the way he says better, and he says it so condensingly as if he knows he cannot provide you with that, or maybe he is too scared too.

“does she?” sunghoon scoffs. “or do you want more?”

more.

he does like the sound of that.

jake would never admit it to you, maybe it’s fear, or maybe he doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of you.

he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re basking in the afterglow, hair sprawled over his pillows. when your lips are swollen from all the kissing, when you’re exhausted and too far ruined for another round— jake thinks you might be an angel.

when you asked him if you could stay over for the first time, he wondered if that was even conventional. is that a part of this arrangement? but he ignores that question, immediately grabbing a tshirt for you from his cupboard.

and now on nights you stay over, he stays awake fixing your blanket to make sure you aren’t cold. he can’t sleep— his heartbeat is way too loud on his ears. on nights like those, he fights back the urge to brush his knuckles over the soft skin of your cheek, to gently run his fingers through your hair and kiss you good night on the forehead.

on nights like those, jake wishes there was something more; but then the sun rises and you are gone— the cycle continues.

sunghoon stares at him from his peripheral. watching his friend zone out occasionally isn’t really new, and he taps his pen on the table to get him out of the trance. “i asked you a question,”

“oh, right— uh,” there’s hesitation, jake is thinking. “i’ll see you later,” and then he scurries off out of the study room with a newly found realisation.

sim jaeyun is terrible, terrible at self control.

it’s no news, just a touch from you gets him worked up. it’s a doucious sin, neither of you mind it. study sessions are an excuse, if anything. jake knows you aren’t any better. you can’t wait until fridays and honestly— he wouldn’t mind eating you out any day despite trying to be the voice of reason between you two. but jake, jaeyun, the way you say it, so sweet and breathlessly, the way you chant his name when he has you spread out on the farthest table in the library, when he’s pounding into you and you’re biting your lips to muffle any sounds— it’s heaven.

but back to him and his self control, absolutely terrible.

jake turns like a firefly to the light when he hears your voice. you have him enchanted, like a moth to a flame. he sees you walk out of your lecture hall and he is gone, tranced.

you look like an angel, you are an angel, irrevocably so. maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen you in four days— his fault for avoiding you and now it’s coming back to bite him— but you look so incredible.

“hi, jake,” he thinks you are calling his name or maybe, it’s just his mind playing games, until you wave your hand in front of his face and bring him back to reality.

“hi,” he huffs, already breathless by the sight of you in your outfit. he doesn’t think he has seen you in that before and he is thanking every deity up there for letting him witness the sight in front of him.

“you good?” you raise your brows, you words once again get him out of his trail of thoughts. your voice is the only thing grounding him to reality and the sight of you is making him lose his mind— it’s everything that’s making him so crazy.

“yeah, very,” and he is ogling you in that outfit, undressing you with his eyes and barely even trying to hide it. god, he can feel himself getting hard just by looking at you. “you don’t know what seeing you in that does to me,”

he says it like a sinful secret, you’d be lying if it doesn’t rouse you a little. his gaze alone does the magic, already having your mind visiting places that would be deemed inappropriate by the code of conduct of your university.

“is that your way of saying i look beautiful?” you don’t let up. god, you are the death of him, looking him in the eyes with dirtiest innuendos, and jake would gladly die in your arms.

“yes. you look so beautiful,” he runs his eyes over the empty hallways before whispering against the shell of your ear. “it’s taking everything in me to not rip that off you,”

and jake doesn’t waste another second before pulling you inside the janitor’s room with him. he is quick with his hands, pushing you up against the door before kissing you hungrily.

it’s insanity how he works you up easily, like he knows you inch by inch. what you like and what you don’t— like having him kiss you messily while grinding his hips against yours— an action that takes you to heaven and back.

he feels your fingers trace over the back of his neck, making him shudder, and he is deliberately letting out a long exhale against your ear. he knows you are impatient, gosh, you always are, despite trying to be so calm and composed, only to be reduced to a puddle by just a few nips and kisses.

“so fucking pretty—” he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheeks, trailing them down to the corner of your lips just so he can hear how adorably you whine when he stops short.

he knows he is dragging this out, it’s evil but he loves it when you’re needy. he plants open mouth kisses against the column of your neck while undoing the buttons of your blouse. and he does it exactly the way that would get you worked up— slow, deliberate, teasing as his fingers brush over your breasts.

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin while his hand pushes down your bra and trails down to your breasts as his thumb starts to circle your nipple. you clutch onto him, barely able to speak anything except. “jaeyun,”

“yeah,” he responds, grinning against your neck. he loves the way you say his name, like a prayer, like your life depends on it. “got a class after this, pretty?”

you can barely make out his words, only focusing on the way he slides his hand under your trousers, feeling the damp spot on your panties before pushing the flimsy cloth aside.

“yes, but it’s— oh, jake,” your words are cut short by a gasp when his finger finds your clit, and he grins at how you spread your legs instinctively.

“gotta keep that in mind,” he mumbles before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, half because he loves the feeling of his lips against yours, half because you do have a tendency to get loud when he’s working you out with his fingers.

his thumb rubs gentle circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves, barely giving you what you want. he drinks in every single moan and whimper that dances off your lips while your eyes are closed in bliss— he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

your voice is honeyed— needy and saccharine and breathe— and it has his mind fogging up in admiration. your head is thrown back against the door while he continues his ministrations, flicking your clit. jake could die happily in this very moment and he would have no complaints.

this is everything he desires for yet fears, just being with you makes his heart race in inexplicable ways. the way you’re drowning in pleasure and need, so lovely— it breaks his heart knowing this is only about sex.

his mind registers your moan when he sweeps his index finger across your clit but he is far too lost in his head to focus on anything. you deserved to be treasured, to be loved, like the precious thing that you are. you whine and roll your hips to meet his hand, eager for more, only for him to rip his fingers out.

“jake—” you’re pleading nonsense while clinging to him, but he is already mumbling apologies and fixing your outfit like this was never meant to happen.

“i’m sorry,” there’s a crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that paints confusion all over your face.

“what?” you are still out of breath and in disbelief, not sure if it’s because of his words or because he left you undone for the first time in three weeks.

and jake, hell, he sees the desperation in your eyes. he knows you need him; and he can give in with the way his cock is straining inside his pants but the ache in his chest is far more and worse.

he knows you deserve to be worshiped all over, to be kissed over your skin and told sweet nothings, to have someone who says your name like a chant. you deserve the entire world, instead of some weekly sex that you both are hiding from the entire world like a sin.

so, jake simply walks out of the door once he has fixed your clothes, saying just three words that leave you perplexed. “you deserve better,”

OO3 IN ALL WAYS THAT MATTER

i’m sorry.

you scoff to yourself.

you deserve better.

and you do it again, this time in disbelief. you flip the pen in your hands, barely paying attention to the material in front of you. for a second, you wonder if this was a joke, although nothing about it was funny. especially now the way jake left you high and dry in the janitor’s room a few days ago.

maybe he is conveniently and very politely trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore, hoping you aren’t offended— you do feel quite offended, actually.

jake had no complaints before this and you certainly don’t either.

you both work together just fine, having flexible schedules, communicating actively— well, except now— great in bed ( you would give yourself that. ) you don’t know when you grew a habit of sleeping over at his place, maybe it was when you started waking to the fragrance of freshly prepared food.

you don’t even know if this was a part of the deal. ‘i can’t leave you starving after last night,’ he what he would say as an excuse. it was awkward at first, then you started to find it fun, except when you two almost missed a test because you both got a little too busy in the kitchen.

he is handsome, sweet, kind, and generous with aftercare. he treats you like porcelain after ravishing you all night, like you’re something precious. he is good with his fingers and really fucking great with his mouth. it would be greedy to ask for anything more than having his face buried between your thighs on a weekly basis.

you try to think what you could have done wrong, only to end up with your hands devoid of an answer. you sometimes catch his eyes while passing by his lecture halls— he sits in the front— you don’t understand why he looks at you so much yearning while also running away from you.

no matter which way you think, you can’t find a rational explanation for everything he said to you three days ago.

you recognise jake’s perfume like the back of your hand. it’s woody with oud, oddly fitting for him. sometimes, you wake up with his scent lingering on your skin and it provides you a weird sense of comfort. your eyes follow his movements as he walks inside the library.

you almost wait for him to notice you and say something but he doesn’t. you wonder if he is ignoring you and end up calling out to him yourself. “fancy seeing you here,”

“oh, hi,” and he quite literally freezes at your voice. his heart only beats faster the longer he stares at you. you are angry, a little hurt, he can see it in your eyes. i’m sorry, he wants to say, but he chickens out like usual. “i’ll just— ”

“you’re avoiding me,” you retort, not wanting him to leave you hanging like the last time.

“i’m not—” and he defends himself, only to be cut off by your sharp words.

“stop lying, jake,” he figures that you are really mad, more than he expected you to be.and you wonder if this is even that serious— you two are literally just fuck buddies, but you still find yourself continuing. “you’re ignoring my calls and not even replying to my texts,”

an eerie silence follows. you’ve barely known him for a couple of weeks and can still tell that this is not jake— quiet, lost, speechless, with a gaze that meets everything but your eyes.

“sorry,” is all he is able to say. he does feel guilty. heck, more than he did while trying to fuck you in the janitor’s room. jake feels like the worst guy ever, all because of this stupid situation he got you both into.

it’s stupid, you conclude. you don’t even know what you’re upset at. if it’s his words from that day, his unexpected apology or the fact that he walked out on you in the middle of whatever you were doing, without explanation. “if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, that’s fine—”

“i never said that,” his voice is firm and his next words are determined, like they’re the only ones that matter. “i just said you deserve more,”

“but i am content with this!” you almost want to throw something. jake is refusing to have sex with you because he thinks you deserve better— it feels straight out a poorly written script of a movie. “i’m happy with what we have, i don’t want to be greedy,”

“no, you should be greedy,” he is adamant, shaking his head and all. “you’re amazing— wonderful, you deserve better than some empty sex every week,”

no, you can’t be stupid— he is.

it would be the first time in the history of any friends with benefits arrangement that this is happening. you realise that you can go on for hours about how you are happy with him fucking you every week and he would still refuse respectfully, telling you that you deserve better.

you don’t even think you are mad anymore, just amused. despite his serious voice, you find yourself biting back a giggle at his slightly red face. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed, actually frowning and fighting for your supposed loss in this arrangement which was mutually agreed upon.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume this is your bad attempt at flirting,” you manage to chuckle and he is already pulling out a chair next to you.

it’s like his breath gets caught up in his throat and he is tapping his finger on the table just as fast as his heartbeat. “what if it is?” maybe, he is just taking your chances, maybe he’ll end up making a fool out of himself— it doesn’t matter anymore.

“jaeyun,” you whine, your fingers pulling on his soft locks when he draws his finger inside your wet hole, almost chuckling as you arch your back off the seat.

“didn’t even do much yet,” he scoffs mockingly, head slanting forward until you could feel his breath against your folds. “you’re already that fucked out?”

it’s your fault, clearly.

you shouldn’t have tried arguing with jake in the middle of library, definitely shouldn’t have tried to rile him up by trying to stroke him through his pants while he was trying to focus on his studies so desperately.

you knew acting up would get you in trouble and you have quite literally landed in the hands of trouble itself— in the backseat of his car with your legs spread open— although, you doubt you would have it any other way.

“oh, shut up—” you huff, still having a little bit of attitude and honestly, jake finds it cute, but so is everything else about you.

you make a throaty cry when he adds another finger, closing your doused eyes when he places a tender kiss on your clit. he’s doing it with practiced ease, knowing you inside-out like anyone else. you’re breathing in deep and exhaling sharply while he strokes your sloppy wet cunt with the tip of his tongue.

he hums satisfactorily at how good you taste. it’s like drugs and he is addicted.

“jake,” you let out a whine, riddled with impatience. “please,”

sometimes, you ask yourself why you are unable to say anything except his name and desperate plea when he has you like this. as if on cue, he presses a few feather light kisses over your dripping folds and hooks his hand under your thighs to pull you closer, already aligning himself at your entrance.

“you’re so beautiful,” he teases his tip at your entrance, adoring your chest with light kisses that are ever so gentle. “so, so, precious,”

you wrap your arms around his neck almost like you don’t want to let him go. he is teasing you and it’s too good and too painful, all at once, and you can only let out a breathy “jake—”

“i want you so bad, baby,” and jake would rather die than keep you waiting. so, he inches into you slowly, head finding your neck instantly as you squeeze him tighter than the last time he fucked you. “in ways more than one,” he whispers a breathy confession, pressing his nose against the side of your neck. “in all ways that matter,”

he wonders if you realise that your heartbeats are in sync.

he lets out a soft groan, drawn and breathy as your walls squeeze around him with each thrust. you whimper when he hits a certain spot and he only lets out a low moan when you suck him deeper.

“fuck—right there, jaeyun!” you’re breathing much more erratic now, raising your hips to meet his. and jake wonders if you know how you get him going when you call him that.

it’s just his name, someone would argue, but the way you say it, so sweet and desperate, coated in your lovely voice.. he likes how it rolls off your tongue. you say it like it’s your right and it is— he is your jaeyun.

he speeds up his thrusts when he feels you getting closer. he pulls away from your neck and loses himself in how ethereal you look, the glow of your face surpassing the stars.

you tug him by his hair pull him into a kiss. he kisses you carefully, unlike his hips pounding into you. his lips move with tenderness, with adoration, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. “go on a date with me, darling,”

“what?” you’re not quite sure if you heard that correctly. you could very well be out of your mind, considering how he is fucking you brainless.

honestly, you can barely think about anything, too busy thinking about how good his cock feels inside you, the way he is moving. he angles his hips better, just the way it would make you come, and you let out a cry.

“i want to give you— fuck —better,” you know it just by his voice that he is close, with the way he moves inside you so desperately. “andnif we’re gonna keep fucking, you have to go on a date with me first,”

and it makes you laugh at how he is so determined to ask you out even in this state, when either of you can barely think, only breathing and groaning heavily. your walls spasm around him as you let go with a whine and he follows with a loud grunt. he presses his forehead against yours, continuing to slam his hips into you and fucking you both through the orgasm.

he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath. his eyes are closed and he plants a kiss on your temple when he feels you nuzzle in the crook of his neck.

“what if it doesn’t work out?” you finally manage to whisper after a while, not sure if you are scared or just stating a possibility.

but jake sees right through you, as always, pressing soft, gentle kisses on your cheeks with the sweetest smile. “not a chance,”

2K notes · View notes

sikkkko · 1 month ago

Text

they don't know about us

pairing— idol!reader x idol!anton

content— fluff, drama, secret relationship, idol!au, forbidden love, slow burn, confession, first kiss, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, comfort, sm au, based on real feelings, weverse posts, hidden moments, public reveal, emotional rollercoaster.

note— woooow, this is the longest drabble i've written so far! 🫣 i really enjoyed writing something completely different from what i usually write hahahah, btw: i think i'll end up writing a drabble with every 1D song at this point, but hey! thanks to these i get quite a few ideas, hehehe

it all started with a casual conversation.

anton didn't know you personally, but he had seen you. several times, actually.

in the break room. walking around with your coffee in hand. rehearsing with your headphones on and your head down. Always discreet, always with that air of being in your own world.

and though he wouldn't admit it, there was something about you that left him wondering.

he kept looking at you.

until one day, Shotaro, with the subtlety of a train, came up to him and said:

"hey… y/n is amazing, you know?"

"y/n?"

"yeah, you should talk to her. seriously."

sohee, who was eating next to him, just mumbled with her mouth full:

"you literally make good vibes. you have the same kind of weird energy. match made in heaven."

“are you two conspiring to set me up with someone?” laughed Anton.

"not with someone. with her" they said in unison.

it was sungchan and shotaro who started pushing him in your direction. they talked to him about you as if you were a named miracle, as if missing the chance with you was the biggest mistake of his life. at first, he just laughed and said he didn't have time for that… but it was enough to cross you a couple of times in the corridors for him to realize that there was no escape. He already had you in his head.

after that, it was inevitable.

the next time he found you walking down the hallway, he dared to say hello. just that.

“hi.”

“hi” you replied, somewhat shyly.

but that was enough.

because from then on, his greetings became little shared moments.

a “how are you?”, a “did you have a lot of breakfast today?”, a “do you want something to drink?”, a “i like your sweatshirt”.

each one warmer than the last.

the first outing was a “not a date” disguised as a coincidence.

“let's some of us go eat tteokbokki near the studio, are you up for it?” sohee asked you, but you already knew who else was going to be there.

and yes, there was anton. quieter than usual, with his cheeks a little red every time you looked at him.

they talked little. you laughed more. and as you said goodbye, he said to you:

"next time… we could go just the two of us. if you want."

your heart skipped a beat.

you said yes.

the first few dates were as sweet as they were awkward.

a hidden coffee shop where you ordered things that you couldn't pronounce.

a movie in a theater where there were barely five people.

a night walking along the banks of the Han River, just talking about dreams and fears.

places where no one could recognize the both of you.

sometimes you didn't even talk much. you would just stare at each other, nervously, as if each smile could break the air.

he listened to you as if you were a song.

and you looked at him as if you wanted to learn it by heart.

with each encounter, you grew closer.

shoulders brushed. hands trembled.

then came the walks at night, the eternal conversations by message, the hands that sought each other without wanting to.

it was late that night, but you were in no hurry.

they were in a small practice room shared by some groups, just after one of those eternal days of rehearsal. the lights were dim, and the city flickered through the window as if it, too, was breathing calmly.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, drinking water, while he looked at you from the mirror, still not taking off his sweat-soaked hoodie. you talked about everything and nothing. about the weather, about your new playlist, about how anton had been learning to cook because he “couldn't live on ramen anymore.”

“you know?” he said suddenly, breaking a comfortable silence. “sometimes i feel like with you i can be me without putting on any masks.”

your heart skipped a beat.

you looked at him, saying nothing at first. You just swallowed saliva.

“and that scares me” he added, looking down for a moment, with a nervous smile. “because i care about you more than i thought i was ever going to care about anyone here.”

you moved a bit closer, without thinking. you were sitting next to him already, but that time your knees touched his.

he looked up and you met there, at that exact spot where you didn't need to talk anymore.

“can i kiss you?” he asked, softly.

and you… you just nodded. with red cheeks, but without looking away.

it was smooth.

short.

like he was tasting something he'd been imagining for months.

and when he broke away, they both laughed softly, nervously, like two teenagers who had just stolen something from the moon.

but it didn't end there.

days later, anton invited you to a nice restaurant, he brought you a bouquet of flowers and you ended up in a gazebo, he was weird, more serious than usual, until suddenly he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers, and then he looked at you again.

“i don't want this to stay just a kiss.”

"no?"

"no. i want to be the one who makes you smile every day. i want… you to be my girlfriend. if you want to, of course."

your response was to stay silent for a moment-just long enough for his heart to clench-and then you hugged him. tightly. as if he had just given you the place you didn't know you needed.

you hesitated.

not because you didn't feel it, but because you were afraid.

afraid of the world.

of the cameras.

of the consequences.

“if i want to, but i don't want anyone to know...” you told him one night, your hands trembling between his. "at least for now. just your friends and mine. no one else."

“then it will be our secret, your rhythm is mine.” he answered you, with a tenderness that made you fall harder for him.

he broke away a little to look at you, and nodded with one of those smiles that sticks to your skin.

and from that night on, anton was not only the boy who made you laugh, but also the most beautiful secret you kept in your heart.

and so, you became sweethearts.

a secret courtship.

made of messages that said “did you arrive well?”, “you look pretty today”, “i miss you”.

since then, the relationship has been a constant game of glances in hallways, when they pass by each other, brushing hands for a second. and when you were in the same performance or backstage, their gazes cross with tenderness and complicity.

“casual” rehearsals that magically overlap, sometimes at the same time, even in the same room if they can convince their managers that sharing space is more “efficient”.

always managed to coordinate their breaks to coincide. and in those 15-30 minutes, you would hide out on the roof of the building or in an empty room where they would sit together on the floor, share a drink and fool around, sometimes just look at each other, hold hands.

would leave notes on paper hidden in their jackets or gear, when you went to rehearse, you would find a note inside your hoodie: “i dreamt about you today, baby.”

when he went to get his drumsticks or his mic, he would find something written from you on the tape: "do awesome, toni. “

anton would also leave a post-it on your locker with things like ”it was beautiful yesterday, baby“ or ”i'll wait for you at the exit, floor 3". you answer him with stickers of little hearts and little bad drawings that he keeps in his wallet.

their safe place; the little prop room, no one would go in there. it's dark, smells like old cardboard, but it's theirs. there you kissed, laughed, cried. it's like their mini world inside the chaos

where you could pretend the world didn't exist. you were experts at disappearing together and reappearing as if nothing had happened. If anyone suspected, they said nothing.

but, over the months, you began to let their guard down.

it wasn't intentional.

it was love.

love that overflowed and could no longer be hidden.

it was becoming more and more evident. your friends didn't even ask questions anymore, they just smiled. and you… you were beginning to think that maybe you didn't want to hide it forever.

and then… it happened.

BACKSTAGE - BREAK ROOM, 11:37PM.

after the dress rehearsal, the staff had almost finished packing up. most of the team had left, and there were only a few left hanging around the place. you had snuck out looking for a moment with anton, and found him in the small break room on the third floor, where nobody usually went at that time.

you walked in without saying anything, just with that complicit look on your face. Anton smiled at the sight of you and immediately hugged you tightly, as if he hadn't seen you in weeks, when only hours had passed.

“you don't know how much i missed you today” he murmured, hiding his face in your neck.

“but we saw each other earlier” you replied, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him.

"it's not enough. it's never enough with you."

his words melted you. he sat you on his lap and you stayed in each other's arms, swaying gently as if dancing to a silent song. the air was charged with something warm and dangerous. and slowly, the kisses began to appear: one on your cheek, then on your forehead, then on your lips. short. then long. then... more intense.

anton caressed your waist tenderly, but soon his hands began to move up your back and down a little further to your butt, squeezing it and exploring it with restrained desire. you let out a nervous giggle as he whispered something in your ear that made your heart race and his kisses were beginning to descend on your neck, making you shiver.

“Anton... they might see us” you said, barely in a whisper, but not moving away.

"they're all downstairs...just a little while longer, baby" he said hoarsely, gluing his lips to yours again.

were so lost in their own little universe that they didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

the door burst open.

“anton, did you leave you...?” a voice interrupted by the visual impact.

they both froze. literally. you still had your hands inside his shirt over anton's chest, and he was still holding you by your ass. your faces were millimeters apart, lips still swollen, your gazes terrified.

on the other side of the door: a staff member, with a folder in hand and an expression of absolute horror, shock and a touch of “i'm going to pretend i didn't see this.”

the silence was as awkward as it was long.

“...i ... this i didn't see, okay?” the staff member said, slowly backing away.

“WAIT!” exclaimed Anton, pulling away from you but still holding your hand. “we can explain.”

but it was too late. the staff had already almost run off. you felt his stomach drop to the floor, cheeks burning, heart galloping.

“do you think he's going to tell us anything?” you asked, your voice trembling.

"i don't know. but if you do..." anton squeezed her hand. "i'm not letting go of you. no matter what."

looked at him. And in her eyes, there was fear, yes... but also that security that only Anton knew how to give her.

“if this leaks... i guess we'll have to come up with a plan.”

“or tell the truth.”

"just like that?"

"yes. because i don't want to hide you anymore, y/n."

but you and Anton stood there, your hearts beating a mile a minute.

You knew it wasn't going to stay there.

and you were right.

the next day you were called in to talk.

MANAGEMENT OFFICE - THE NEXT DAY, 3:02PM

kept shaking your leg under the table. although you tried to keep your face calm, your fingers intertwined with anton's betrayed your anxiety. He, on the other hand, seemed calm… but only because he didn't want you to feel worse. In reality, your stomach was in knots.

in front of you, two managers, one from Anton's team and one from yours, exchanged uncomfortable glances, sharing silences that said it all.

"so…“ one of them began, resting his hands on the desk, ”are you going to tell us what you were doing in that break room?

Anton opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first.

"we were kissing," you said, bluntly.

the silence was absolute.

"mmm… well, it looked like something else was going on," the other manager muttered, looking at the staff report that had discovered them. "but we wanted to hear it from you. how long has this been going on?"

you looked down, but Anton squeezed your hand and replied:

"almost a year."

both managers blinked, dumbfounded.

"a year? and no one knew?"

"we kept it a secret… very carefully" you added. “it never affected the job or our responsibilities.”

“until now.”

the sentence fell like lead. but Anton didn't shrink.

"we know it was a mistake to hide it for so long, but we don't regret being together. we just wanted to protect what was ours."

there was a moment's pause. one of the managers sighed, dropping his shoulders.

"look, we're not dumb. we noticed things...glances, coordinated absences, escapades during off hours. but we never had proof. until now."

you fell silent, holding your breath.

“we didn't want it to happen like this, but we're not afraid to admit it anymore.”

anton looked at you as if the whole world came down to her in that moment.

“i love her,” he said, with absolute calm. "i don't care if it changes things. i don't want to hide it anymore."

the air grew thick, but the managers exchanged a resigned look. there wasn't much to hide anymore.

“the communications department will decide whether they make a statement or not,” one of them said as he stood up." but be that as it may... there was no turning back now.

anton and you got up as well. just as they were about to leave, your manager added:

"and for what it's worth... you look happy. just make sure you do it right."

ROAD HOME - 6:47PM

the car was silent. not because they didn't want to talk, but because they didn't know where to start.

you were looking out the window, watching the city tint with the last rays of the sun. your eyes were a little glassy, but you hadn't cried. not yet. Anton had one hand on the steering wheel and the other… reaching for yours.

"are you all right? he asked, barely a whisper."

you nodded without looking at him, but he wasn't satisfied. he stopped the car on a quiet street, turned off the engine and turned to you with the most sincere eyes in the world.

you turned your face slowly, and as soon as their gazes met, he caressed your cheek with a gentleness that made your soul tremble.

"i don't want you to be afraid," anton murmured. "you can't imagine how much it hurt me to hide you. having to pretend you were just a friend when all i wanted was to scream to the world that you were mine."

closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. when you opened them, the tears were already there.

"sometimes i felt like we were never going to have this moment," you whispered. "that this was just a dream. but now… i'm afraid that we'll get hurt. that this will ruin everything."

anton shook his head and leaned towards her, resting his forehead against yours.

“no one's going to ruin it,” he said firmly, "because we're not going to let you ruin it. i love you, y/n. from the first rehearsal where we pretended we didn't know each other, from every hidden message, every stolen smile... no matter what comes, we face it together, okay?"

you didn't respond. you just kissed him. slow, long, with all the weight of what they had contained for almost a year. And he reciprocated as if his life depended on that kiss.

their lips parted just a little and anton smiled, lowering his voice.

"you know what the craziest thing is?"

"what?"

"that now i can kiss you without looking to see if there's a camera nearby."

you laughed softly, wiping your cheeks awkwardly. he put both arms around you, making her lay her head on his chest while he stroked her hair.

"i promise you we'll be fine," he whispered, ”i swear it."

and there, in that bubble of peace, they finally breathed. as if everything they had been silent about finally had room to bloom.

that same night, the official statement was soon released.

[OFFICIAL RELEASE - SM ENTERTAINMENT]

April 05, 2025

Hello.

We are SM Entertainment.

We are writing to address a situation that has recently come to our attention. Upon internal review, we have confirmed that two of our artists, Anton (RIIZE) and y/n (solo artist under SM), have been romantically involved for some time.

We understand that this information may have come as a surprise to fans, as both artists decided to keep their relationship private out of respect for their careers, their groups and the fandom. However, due to a situation that occurred inside our facilities, in which they were spotted by a staff member, we feel it is important to be transparent with the public and confirm the facts.

Both artists have expressed to us that their relationship is serious and has developed with maturity, commitment and professionalism. The decision to go public has not been taken lightly, but after considering the situation and listening to their voices, we decided to support them.

We ask all fans and the public to respect their privacy and continue to show the love and support they have always given them.

Thank you.

SM Entertainment.

the nets collapsed.

you had the need to say something about it, so you got up the courage and started writing with your heart in your hand.

[WEVERSE - Y/N]

hi everyone.

this is y/n, and i want to write this from a very sincere place.

i know many of you have already seen the company's announcement... and yes, it's true. anton and i have been together for almost a year now. it wasn't easy to keep it a secret, but we did it because we wanted to protect something that has become the most beautiful thing that has happened to us.

it was never out of shame, nor to hide something bad. it was to take care of us, to take care of what we were building. but now that you know, we don't want to lie or hide anymore.

anton is someone who came into my life with light, patience, tenderness and a love that makes me feel safe every day. we have shared laughter, tears, tired trials, long nights and many dreams... and still, we never stopped choosing each other.

we know this may be hard for some to take in, but we also trust that many of you will support us, as you always have. we ask for nothing but respect and understanding.

we are still the same artists who love what we do, and now we simply... love each other too.

thank you for reading this far.

thank you for understanding.

with all my love,

y/n.

a few minutes later, Anton posted something too.

[WEVERSE - ANTON]

hi, this is anton.

i know that for many this news was unexpected, and i want to take a moment to speak to you with all the sincerity it deserves.

yes, it's true. y/n and i have been in a relationship for almost a year now. we decided to keep it private because it was something very precious to us, something we wanted to take care of and protect from outside noise. it wasn't easy, but it was real. and it still is.

y/n is an amazing person. not only as an artist, but as a human being. her heart, her strength, her way of seeing life... i fall in love with her every day. and no, i don't want to keep hiding someone who makes me so happy.

i know some of you may be surprised or even upset, and i understand that. but i also hope many of you can see what's behind it: two people who truly love each other.

i choose her, and she chooses me. every day.

thank you for all the love you always give us.

thank you for respecting us, for supporting us, and for allowing us to be ourselves.

with love,

anton.

the news blew up like a bomb on social media. no one saw it coming, and the fact that they hid it for almost a year left everyone speechless.

fans of both were split between shock, excitement, and a wave of support. many started remembering little hints: shared glances, subtle gestures in interviews, matching outfits… things that now made TOTAL sense.

some fans, the more intense ones, began gathering evidence: clothes yn wore that looked like Anton’s, subtle hints in their lyrics, or days when they both looked extra happy for no apparent reason. suddenly, everything made sense.

most people celebrated the brave, genuine, and beautiful love they shared, cheering them on for defending it publicly with so much confidence and tenderness. fan comments on weverse after the statement:

“y/n, we’re so proud of you. You two deserve all the happiness in the world.” “Anton, thank you for loving her right. We can see it in your eyes.” “You guys didn’t have to tell us, but you did. And that honesty means the world.”

COMMENTS ON TWITTER/X AND WEVERSE:

“wait… ANTON AND YN HAVE BEEN TOGETHER FOR ALMOST A YEAR??? and WE HAD NO IDEA??? the best actors, literally.”

“anton used to smile different around her AND NOW WE KNOW WHY”

“yn and anton saying ‘we hope for your support’ after hiding it for a year?? power couple behavior”

“not me crying because they were so in love they couldn’t hide it anymore”

“sm staff discovering them was the best thing that could’ve happened tbh”

“the fact that he called her ‘incredible’ and said he chooses her every day?? i’m losing it.”

“you can see how in love anton is… yn, i envy you (in the sweetest way). give him lots of kisses from us LOL.”

“this feels like when your parents tell you they’ve loved each other since they were young and kept it a secret… ICONIC.”

“how did they survive hiding it for almost a year??? i can’t even last five minutes without telling someone i like them.”

“who was the staff member that found out about them? i just wanna talk (and thank them).”

“no one cares that they’re idols, what matters is that they look this happy. i support them 100%.”

“YOOO??? THEY WERE DATING THIS WHOLE TIME???”

“iconic statement, iconic couple, iconic relationship.”

@sunlightforyn: “these statements are more romantic than any fanfic i’ve ever read in my life.”

@antonismybf: “them: hiding their relationship for a year me, watching their weird little moments since 2024: suspicious silence”

@softcorecouple: “i love that you can tell it was a relationship full of genuine love and care. like they really protected each other. that gives me peace.”

@kfanupdates: “someone PLEASE make a thread of all the times yn wore anton’s clothes, because there’s legit proof from MONTHS ago”

VIRAL EDIT ON TIKTOK:

clips of yn wearing Anton’s hoodie + him looking at her like she hung the moon.

fancam of both on stage at different events, catching subtle smiles when they pass each other

POV video titled: “me reading the statements like I’m the main character in a romance drama”

background sound: people sobbing dramatically.

most reactions were overwhelmingly positive—fans welcomed the news with full hearts, celebrating the love and bravery of both of them. but, as expected, not everyone agreed. a few people voiced their anger and disappointment online, posting comments trying to dim the moment. still, with so much excitement, support, and joy flooding the timeline, those negative remarks quickly got lost in the wave of love surrounding Anton and yn.

that night, after everything became public, after reading hundreds of messages —some crying with emotion, others surprised that they had suspected it for months—, you snuggled next to Anton on the couch in his bedroom, with a shared blanket and a soft playlist playing softly.

the warm light from his lamp fell over the edges of his face, and you just looked at him, as if you still didn't believe you didn't have to hide anything anymore.

"you know?" you murmured, your voice soft as you ran your fingers along his wrist. "sometimes i thought this was going to blow up... that we wouldn't last because of all the stress, because of what we had to hide. but look at us."

Anton looked at you with a tired but smitten smile, then kissed your forehead.

"i knew you were worth it. even if i had to hide a thousand smiles, a thousand urges to hold your hand in the hallways... you were worth all of that."

you both laughed softly, as if they were still in that first rehearsal where it all began.

"what now?" you asked, snuggling closer. there are no more secrets. No more fear.

he hugged you tight, his chin on your head.

"now we live this... in our own way. no rush. no masks. just you and me. and if the world looks at us... let it look at us in love."

and so, in his arms, you closed your eyes knowing that in spite of everything, in the end all that mattered was that: the love you had nurtured in silence, could now shine without hiding.

330 notes · View notes

sikkkko · 2 months ago

Text

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused.

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

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sikkkko · 2 months ago

Text

on the rebound ☆ p.sh [m]

synopsis: sunghoon doesn't mind babysitting for the neighborhood mothers - but he certainly doesn't mind when a certain eldest daughter is around to be taken care of, too. genre: acquaintances to ???. older!reader moment (because why not, but also it doesn't really come up.) angst, fluff, smut. this porn has plot, damnit! pairing: babysitter!park sunghoon x fem!older!reader ; mentions of heeseung x reader. word count: 6k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol (that they don't even drink LOL) mentions of toxic relationships, rebounds, reader is only older by a year. smut warnings: oral (f. rec),MUNCH!HOON!! PUSSY EATING ENTHUSIAST HOON!!! nipple play, subtle body worship (f. rec), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), sub!hoon x sub!reader (just trust me), creampie, subtle breeding kink, wayyy too much whining and whimpering, pet names (pretty girl, baby, etc.) listen to: lie to girls - sabrina carpenter ; number one girl - rosé ; wait - dino ; btbt - b.i, soulja boy, devita ; die for you - the weeknd. author's note: this is for all my eldest daughters out there (not me but y'all stay safe!) i whipped this up while i was procrastinating studying for finals...so apologies if it's shitty (because it is shitty.) also, i dog on heeseung SOOO bad but i promise i love him i just needed someone. this being said, happiest birthday hoonie, i love u!

You and Sunghoon weren't strangers, you wouldn't go that far.

However, there was a good reason that you weren't friends – you were never home when he was at your parents' house. You'd moved out with your boyfriend a month or so into him babysitting your menace of a sister. She was well-behaved for him, but had been an absolute tornado of a child when your mother would ask you to babysit. You were actually the one who found Sunghoon through an ad on social media, and he'd been yet another thing to add to your parents' monthly budget.

Then again, no one told them to have another kid so late in their lives. Or yours, for that matter. You were eighteen when Mina was born, and it'd been a pretty rocky five years since then. You went off to college and didn't really get to see her grow up, and she soon learned you were someone she couldn't depend on emotionally because you were rarely able to stick around outside of holidays. It pained you, but you knew you'd eventually get the time to bond with her.

And that time came very quickly after meeting Sunghoon – because your boyfriend dumped you after six months, insisting he was too busy with school to maintain a relationship. Heeseung was a graduate student, and he tutored on the side for extra cash. Your parents funded your lifestyle, so you'd never worried about anything – until Heeseung sat you down and said that the relationship was stressing him out.

Needless to say, a week after the breakup – you moved back in with your parents and left him to figure out the rent himself. It was a calculated move, but your parents agreed that you didn't need that kind of energy in your life. It didn't stop you from remembering all the other times Heeseung dogged you – from taking continuous 'breaks' from your relationship in the three years you were together, to falling prey to temptation (read: another woman grinding on him at a bar while you were two feet away.)

And you talked about him to every person you possibly could – including now, your little sister's babysitter as he washed dishes in your parents' kitchen. The conversation hadn't started out this way, he'd actually been telling you how much Mina talked about you while you were gone.

"Anyway, that kid loves you, man." He nodded as he slid a plate onto the drying rack, and you laughed softly. "Mina was born when I was a teenager. She just thinks I'm cool now, she'll go through the phase of hating me when she's older." You shrug.

"I wouldn't be so sure. She talks about you a lot, something about you playing a viobib?" His brow is arched, and you snort. "Violin. I played her the violin one time so she'd leave me alone. I'm surprised she talks to you so much, she has a hard time warming up to anyone. Even my boyfriend can't get her to talk to him."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "You have a boyfriend? Since when?" You shrug again. "Since before I met you. I guess I should say ex, though. Boyfriend is the title he prefers, but not the one he deserves. At least, not right now." You say pointedly, and his brows furrowed as he leans on the counter, arms crossed.

"Elaborate." "You're babysitting my kid sister, not giving me counseling."

"Consider it a perk for eldest daughters who act like they deserve shitty men." He says, a bite to his tone as you scrunch your nose. You sigh, nibbling your lip before rolling your eyes. "We're on-and-off. Sometimes I call it off, sometimes he does. He's in grad school and he tutors, and he said everything was stressing him out. He dumped me a bit ago, and I moved back in here. I'm surprised I haven't seen you around more."

"Right, so what about that arrangement is making you believe that you deserve this sort of behavior?"

You peek up at him, his brows still furrowed as he awaits your answer. Your stomach tightens a bit as you blink. "I guess…I don't know, actually." "Okay, then ditch that loser." He shrugs, and you scoff. "He's not a loser. He's smart and sweet and we're just going through a rough patch." "If you have to justify his presence in your life or his treatment of you to your friends or anyone you talk about him to, then he's a loser. He sucks and he doesn't deserve to have access to you in any way." Sunghoon clasps his hands in front of himself, and you frown.

"He's nice enough." "Yeah, so is any other guy, babe. You're not gonna give just any dude a chance because he's 'nice enough,' are you?" He peers at you through his shaggy hair, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment. "The fact that you allow that behavior, seemingly quite often, will only make him make you his doormat. He'll do it over and over until he's sick of you, then he gets to dump you and make it seem like it was a mutual thing. You won't win in a situation like that." "It's not about winning." You mutter, grabbing a peach out of the fruit bowl in front of you. He leans back on the island, arms crossed in front of him.

"Isn't it, though? There is always a prize and a player in a relationship. You," He taps the tip of your nose with his finger gently. "Are the prize, and he's the player. If he's not playing to win you, then he's playing to lose and wasting your time."

You stare into his eyes, not missing the way his brows jump as he leans slightly closer.

"Stop wasting your time on a shitty dude when you can do so much better. Especially if you're really as cool as Mina says. Kids don't lie about people they admire." His tone is slightly teasing, and you roll your eyes. "Mina has thrown eggs at me, I wouldn't be so sure she admires me." "I don't know, she said you're really nice to everyone. That you're funny, you can sing…dance…" Sunghoon lists a few things your sister said while you were asleep, and you feel your ears grow hot. "She also said you're the one who taught her how to do backflips, and that she wants to be like you when she grows up. I'd suggest getting that guy out of your life sooner rather than later so you can set a good example." "Did she mention him?" Your eyes snap up, and Sunghoon shrugs. "Once or twice. She said he makes you cry more often than not." You snort, shaking your head as you look down. "What does she know? She's five."

"Kids see things from an unbiased perspective, they're still learning how to be functioning humans. She associates him with you being upset, so I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that you're 'on a break' right now. I've been listening to you for five minutes and I already don't like this guy. If he cared, he'd be here. He doesn't care." "You're only saying that because it's what I need to hear." You roll your eyes as you avoid the rest of his spiel, and Sunghoon shakes his head, stealing a grape from the ones he washed for you earlier. "I'm saying that because it's the truth, and when I love, I make sure the person I love knows." "You don't even know him." You scowl, and he smirks. "Don't have to, babe. It's all over your face. You look defeated as hell when you talk about him." "Not your babe, Sunghoon." You shake your head, and he shrugs. "Could be, if you ditched that guy. I don't even know your favorite color but I can almost guarantee I'd be a better boyfriend than him."

"My favorite color is green." You mutter, and he leans closer to your face. "Anything else you wanna tell me about this guy?" "Why? You'll just be mean about it." You mumble, licking your lips when you feel his fingers tilt your chin up. He coos, "You're cute when you're defensive over a scumbag." "Stop that." You shove his hand away, and he smiles. "You need a rebound or something. All you've been able to talk about since you moved back is this guy. He sucks, babe." "Ugh, I know! Alright, I know he sucks, you don't have to rub it in." You frown, biting into the peach in your hand. "D'you know he'd never tell me I was pretty? I mean, I know I am, he didn't have to. But it would've been nice to hear every once in a damn while." You chew angrily, before hearing him laugh softly. "You have enough confidence for a man to feel like he doesn't need to tell you that. You carry yourself so well, it's honestly very sexy." You look up at him, meeting his eyes. They're calm and sincere, like he didn't just call you sexy in the middle of your kitchen while you're wearing a random t-shirt and sweatpants. "Me?" "Yeah, you. It's just us in here, Y/N." He snorts, "You seriously need to get over this guy. I don't like hearing you talk about this like you deserved it." "What do you know? You hardly know me." You know your voice sounds bitter, but it only spurs him on. "Don't need to know you super well to know you just need to feel appreciated." "Right, appreciated." You roll your eyes, tossing the half eaten peach in the trash. "Like I'm gonna find that in a rebound." "You can." He nods, making you snort. "Like who? You?" "Sure." He shrugs, and you nearly choke on your own spit. "What? Sunghoon, be serious." "I am being serious. If that's what it takes, I'm all for it." He shrugs again, like this is the most nonchalant thing ever, like he's not offering to fuck the bitterness out of you so you'll act normal again. You gawk at him, "Sunghoon, I cannot just use you like that. We hardly know each other, are you insane?" "Is it insane if I say I want you to?" He leans forward on the counter, a soft blush on his cheeks. You gape at him, his finger coming to close your mouth. "Does it matter how well we know each other? I'm sure it'll be a one time thing, and since we don't see each other often, I don't see the harm." "You want me to use you to get over my ex-boyfriend? You want to be my rebound?" You're shocked at his suggestion, he can tell as he shrugs. "You can use me anytime you want. Think about it." He winks, pushing off the island.

You feel your cheeks grow hot as he leaves the kitchen, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Sunghoon lived a mile away, in an apartment complex you helped him pick out once your parents hired him. Your mother had insisted he live in the house, but your father refuted by saying Sunghoon was a grown man, he needed his own space. You'd taken him to fill out the paperwork, and it was one of the last interactions you'd had with Sunghoon before moving out.

You sigh shakily, running your hands through your hair.

It wasn't the worst idea. You knew that Sunghoon wouldn't have offered it if he wasn't attracted to you, at least. You knew what it was like to feel desired, but something about the way Sunghoon looked at you made you feel giddy.

Maybe it was the promise of feeling something new, or the idea that you shouldn't do it – because he works for your parents. Getting involved with you could cost him his job, if anyone found out.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you sigh as you reach to grab it.

Message From: Park Sunghoon (Babysitter) [8:32pm] you know where i live if you're down. [8:32pm] just let me know, gorgeous.

Fuck.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad fucking idea.

It hadn't even been a day since you and Sunghoon had the conversation in your parents' kitchen. Or rather, the awkward moment in your parents' kitchen.

It'd been three hours. It was nearing midnight as you stood in front of the elevator, the cold December air biting at your exposed legs. You'd gone to a late dinner with your friend Aeri, and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that her encouragement is what got you into this predicament.

The elevator dings, revealing a young girl and her dog attempting to step out. You give her a soft smile, earning a nod and a have a good night as you step in. You press the button to the third floor, bouncing on your heels as the elevator starts moving. This could be the worst fuck of your life and you won't even know until after, or even during. What if it's the best fuck of your life and then you're just forced to be around him as his employer rather than a potential fuck buddy or even worse, a girlfriend? "Get it together, Y/N." You mutter to yourself, hearing the elevator ding as you reach the third floor. You step out, turning to the right and walking past three doors, before standing in front of his apartment. His doormat is that of a frat boy's – Please Don't Do Coke In Our Bathroom.

You snort, before knocking on the door softly. You hear rustling, and the lowering of a TV before the pitter-patter of dog feet. You hear him sigh as he unlocks the door, his face appearing before you as he opens it. He looks surprised.

"Y/N, what a pleasure." He speaks smoothly, and you roll your eyes. "It's cold, invite me in." You cross your arms across your chest, making him smile as he steps to the side. You walk in, shivering as you carefully step out of your heels. You squat to pet his dog, but she disappears behind his legs. You pout at him, and he just snorts. "She's shy."

"It's fucking freezing outside, Hoon." Your teeth chatter as he closes the door, taking your scarf as you hand it to him. "Well, you're barely dressed. I assume it would be cold when you're half naked." "Did you want me to wear layers and make this take ten times as long? Be serious." You huff, sliding your coat off. Granted, you'd put this dress on with the idea of going to a bar after dinner and posting thirst traps on your story for Heeseung to see and yearn for…

Which is shitty of you to appear in Sunghoon's apartment after thinking that way.

"I don't think you wore this for me, Y/N. You were at dinner with Aeri." He rolls his eyes, and you forget he also has your Instagram. "Man, just take the win. Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

He shrugs, "Do you want me to?" "You wouldn't have offered and I wouldn't have shown up if the answer to either of those questions was no." You say pointedly, and he clicks his tongue. "I guess you're right." "I usually am." You roll your eyes, making him laugh. "Here, have a seat." "What, are you gonna wine and dine me?" You tease, and he smirks, disappearing into his kitchen. "Could say that." You take a seat on his couch, looking around the apartment. He's decorated in a very Sunghoon way – lots of black decorations and shelving on the exposed brick, an array of books on a shelf to the left of his desk and a record player. You look at his coffee table, the fashion magazines and editorials stacked high.

"You always snoop through people's things?" His voice rings behind you as he holds two glasses and a bottle of wine you're sure you've seen only in your father's reserve. You huff, "Well you leave me here to entertain myself, I'm bound to look around." "Valid. Come on." He tilts his head for you to follow him, your cheeks aflame as you do just that. He leads you down to his bedroom, a large bed with a black duvet in the middle of the room. More books, a few incense candles, a few figurines in the corner of his room. "I like what you've done with the place." "Thanks, it only took fucking forever to figure out what I wanted to do. I think the exposed brick makes for a bigger headache than those home bloggers make it out to be."

It makes you feel at ease, how easy conversation can be with Sunghoon. He doesn't make anything feel inorganic, but he also doesn't talk more than necessary in order to get his point across.

"How long were you with that guy, anyway? Here, put this on." He holds out a pair of sweatpants, which you take with a quizzical look. "Three years. Uh, Hoon, the point is to be naked here, not put on more clothes." "Is that how it was with him? You'd just show up and strip?" He rolls his eyes, digging a shirt out of his dresser for you. You feel your cheeks warm as he hands it to you, before giving you a glance. "Was it?" "...Kind of." You look at your feet, and he sighs. "Yeah, well…I don't play that. Do you need help getting your dress off?" "Oh, yeah. Just the zipper." You turn, pulling your hair to the front. You feel his fingers graze your back, before he tugs the zipper down in one go. He snaps your bra strap playfully, "We can lose this, though." "Yah!" You swat his hand away, making him laugh as he turns away. "Do you want to watch something or just talk?" "We can watch something, whatever is fine. Just nothing scary, my room is spooky at night." You shudder as you undo your bra, folding it in your hand before tugging the shirt over your head. "Oh, do you intend on driving home after?" "Did you want me to stay?" Your words sound a bit bitter, and that only makes Sunghoon frown as he scours the selection on HBO from his bed. "Dude, the more things you say, the more scummy I realize this guy was to you. Next thing you know you'll tell me he never went down on you." You freeze, and Sunghoon gapes at you as you turn around, pulling the shirt down your torso. "Y/N, you've got to be kidding me." "No, he did a few times, I swear!" You try to defend him, but Sunghoon only scoffs out a laugh. "That's fucking insane. Like, actually insane." "Hoon, you're embarrassing me." You whine, and he only blinks. "Why would you be embarrassed that he didn't wanna eat you out? That in itself is embarrassing for him. Real men eat pussy, and they eat it with gusto." "Shut up." You cover your face with your hands as you hear him sigh. "I'm just saying. Now, come on. Either put the pants on or lie the hell down." You huff, shoving the pair of sweats on before joining him on his bed. This is normal, friends fuck all the time.

Except you and Sunghoon are not friends.

You must've spaced out, because the feeling of Sunghoon squeezing your knee makes you jolt. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing." You lie, shaking your head. He hums, turning his attention to the random movie on the television. "You're a bad liar, you know?" "Am not." Scoffing, you turn to face him. Your knees hit his outer thigh as you turn, and he gives you a lazy smile. "You are. You were staring off into space and chewing on your cheek for like, five minutes. What's up?" You scrunch your nose, looking down at your hands as he tilts his head. "You can tell me, you know. I don't judge." "Don't you, though? I mean, I'm here after you absolutely dogged on my ex earlier." You snort, and he smiles. "I'm judging your ex, not you. Well, not right now at least. I will always dislike the fact that you think you deserved that treatment, let alone from a guy who probably couldn't even make you cum." Your eyes snap to his, shock across your face as he pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Babe, come on." "He was nice!" You whine, and Sunghoon just laughs in disbelief. "Don't laugh! It's not funny!" Your lip is jutted out in a pout, before Sunghoon maneuvers you onto his lap. He makes you move up closer, your ass resting high on his thighs. "He really didn't make you finish?" You groan, adjusting yourself to sit comfortably. "I mean, he did a few times. Just not as often as I would've liked. I don't want to talk about him." You rub your temples, Sunghoon's hands finding home on your hips. "Okay, we don't have to. Tell me what you like." "What I like?" You repeat, and he nods. "Yeah. Like…positions. Any kinks, anything I should know to make this the best experience possible."

"...Does it matter?" Your voice is meek, and he rolls his eyes. "Yes, it matters. I want you to feel good. If you don't know, I can figure it out. You just have to trust me." You feel your chest warm at his words, and you glance at his face as he speaks again. "We can go as slow as you want, this is about you." "But what about you?" You toy with the hem of your shirt, and he smiles. "I'll enjoy myself either way, don't worry about me." His hands squeeze your hips gently as he looks down at you. "You okay?" "I'm nervous." You mumble, looking away as he coos. "Baby, you don't need to be nervous. It's just me." His hand comes to hold your jaw gently, making you face him. He squeezes your cheeks gently, making your lips pucker.

"You're so pretty." He smiles as he compliments you, making you roll your eyes in embarrassment. "Stop." "Why? You are. Pretty little thing." He's teasing you, your hands now holding onto his wrist as he inches closer. "Should I kiss you?" "Yes." Your reply is more of a breath, and he chuckles. "Seriously, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, promise. Unless you're into that."

"Kiss me already." You groan, making him roll his eyes before closing the gap between you. His lips are soft and taste like cherry Chapstick. His hand lets go of your face, moving slightly down to the base of your neck. Your own hands move to fist his shirt as his teeth nip at your lower lip, a whimper from your throat making him move you impossibly higher on his lap. His other hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair to hold you steady as his tongue slips into your mouth.

"You'll stay the night, right?" He pulls away from your lips, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You nod as best as you can with his hand in your hair, "Yeah. If you want me to." "I want you to." He whispers, before letting go of your hair. "Can we take this off?" He tugs at the shirt he gave you, and you move to tug it over your head. He lets you, watching the way your hair cascades down your back. His hands find home on your waist, his thumbs barely grazing the underside of your breasts as you look back at him, flinging the shirt somewhere behind you.

He doesn't say anything, only meeting your lips in a kiss. It's softer this time, but your tongue finds its way into his mouth gently. He sucks on it, hearing a low moan from you as your hips cant against his. "Sorry."

"No, don't be." He shakes his head, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. "Use me however you want, baby. That's what I'm here for."

"But–" "This is about you. Just let go." He meets your lips once more, kissing you deeply as his hands grip your hips tightly. He moves you against his hardening cock slowly, setting a gentle pace for you. You follow his lead, rutting against him as his hands move upward before you grab them and place them on your chest. He groans lowly into your mouth, thumbs grazing over your pebbled nipples as he drags his lips down your jaw, your soft whimpers filling the air as his teeth nip at your neck.

"S'fucking gorgeous." He murmurs against your skin, tracing his tongue down the gentle slope of your neck, a shudder running down your spine as he kisses down your chest. "Can I?" His doe eyes peer up at you though shaggy bangs, and you nod quickly. Your fingers card through his hair as his tongue flattens against your nipple as you groan.

"Feel good?" He mumbles against your skin. You only breathe out shakily as you nod, your lip bitten between your teeth as he nips and sucks his way across your chest, your nipples glistening with his spit. He scrapes his teeth against one gently, earning a guttural groan from your lips as he kisses up your chest. "Wanna taste you, angel. Can I?" Your pupils are blown as you look down at him, your fingers pushing his hair back as his hands dip below the sweatpants you're wearing. "Can I?" "Okay." Your voice is slightly raspy with lust, and he smiles softly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "We can stop anytime, just say the word."

You nod, moving off his lap. He lays you back on his pillows, kissing your lips softly before trailing down your body. "So beautiful, baby. Can't get enough of you." He kisses down your stomach, before his teeth catch on the waistband of the sweatpants you're wearing. He bites down carefully, pulling them down your legs as you cover your face with a whine. "Something wrong?" He calls, pulling them off your ankles and flinging them to the ground.

"No." You respond weakly, and he smirks as his fingers land on your thighs, pulling you closer to him. "You're lying." "You're just hot, okay?" You peek at him through your fingers, seeing him shake his head as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your skin. You jolt as he smiles, before sinking to his stomach and spreading your legs. You hear a soft whisper of shit from his lips. "Sorry? Is something wrong?"

You try to move away, only for Sunghoon to hold your hips down. "You're fucking soaked, doll. Holy shit."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, opting to press his face against the sticky fabric of your ruined underwear and inhale deeply, a whine from his throat hitting your ears as he noses at the fabric. "You're so fucking hot."

You feel his tongue before you reply, the underwear a useless attempt at a barrier as he finds your clit easily. Your thighs tense around his head, his preening at the taste of you just through the fabric is enough to make him cum in his pants. "Hoon…" You mewl, your fingers tugging at his hair to get his attention. He only hums in response.

"Take them off." Your whine is loud, and he hastily pulls your underwear down your plush thighs, throwing it over his shoulder as he dives back in, tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. You're a moaning mess as his pouty lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently as he pushes your thighs open further, working two fingers inside you carefully. He groans at the way you clench around them so tightly, your walls so warm and wet as he curls them into you.

"Taste so sweet, pretty. Would never give this up, ever." He murmurs against your clit, pressing wet kisses to it. You can't even respond, your eyes screwed shut as you cant your hips against his mouth harshly. "That's it, baby. Come on, give it to me." He's whining against your pussy, latching his lips to your clit as your thighs begin to tremble.

"H-Hold my hand." You mumble, and Sunghoon immediately laces his free hand with yours. "Need you to cum on my tongue, beautiful." His fingers find that spongy spot, making your soft belly cave in as your thighs close around his head. A choked moan leaves your lips as you coat his tongue and lips in your orgasm, your body trembling beneath him as you try to push his head away from you. "S'too much, Hoonie-" "One more, baby. You can give me one more." He bullies his shoulders through your thighs, moving to hover over you. He presses his wet lips to yours, your tongue attempting to collect any taste of you off of him. He lets you deepen the kiss, his hand snaking between your legs to rub teasing circles into your clit. Your mouth falls slack, your nails digging into his bicep. "One more, baby. Wanna feel you around me." "O-Okay."

He reaches over you to his nightstand, pulling the drawer open to find an empty box of condoms. "Fuck, wait. I think–" "Want it raw." You mumble, eyes closed as your hands run under his shirt, fingers tracing circles into his softly chiseled abdomen. His eyes are wide, his hand coming to your face, stroking it gently. "Look at me. Are you sure?"

"Positive. Want it, Hoonie. Wanna feel full." You barely open your eyes as you nod, turning your head slightly to kiss his palm. He shivers slightly, closing his eyes to compose himself as he nods. "O-Okay. Alright." He straightens, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly pushing his sweats down. You don't bother to look down, knowing in your heart the stretch will be worth a thousand viewings. He pulls you to the edge of the bed by your thighs, carefully tucking a pillow under your hips as he rests your leg on his chest. He kisses your ankle softly, before running the leaking tip of his cock through your wet folds. He nearly buckles, the warmth almost debilitating as he eased himself into you. Your mewl is so soft he almost misses it, his eyes darting to your face as he slowly sheaths himself inside you, biting his lip so hard he's sure he'll draw blood. Your lips are so swollen from the kissing and biting that he can't help but lean over and kiss you gently, burying himself to the hilt inside you. Your soft whisper of fuck is against his lips. "Move, Hoon." "You gotta give me a second, baby." He whines into your neck, making you clench around him. "Fuck, fuck don't do that." His hips jerk involuntarily, earning a choked moan from you as your nails dig into his shoulder. He straightens himself, figuring if he's going to cum fast, he'd better make it worth your while. He pulls out almost entirely, pushing your thighs to your chest as he bullies his cock back into you. Your moans are so loud he's lost in them, your chants of yes, yes, right there so overwhelming for him as he tries his hardest to stave off his own orgasm.

"Feel so fucking good, baby. Shit." He whimpers into the air, his grip on your thighs bruising as you mewl beneath him, your hands finding his wrists. "Kiss me, Hoonie. Wan' a kiss.." He leans forward, the kiss a mess of teeth and tongue as he bottoms out inside you repeatedly. His tip is bullying your sweet spot relentlessly, making you whine into his mouth. "Want you to cum in me." You whisper, and he almost stops as the words hit his ears but your nails drag down his back. "Want you to fill me up, Hoonie. Please."

"Anything you want, fuck. I'll give you anything, baby." His voice is choked as he trails his lips down your neck, feeling your cunt flutter around him in that oh-so-familiar way. "Gonna cum for me? Gonna cream all over this dick?" You only whimper in response, your teeth sinking softly into his shoulder. He feels himself spill inside you at the sensation, a deep groan from his soul as you cum right after. He doesn't stop working the two of you through it, his hips bordering the two of you into overstimulation as you claw at him.

He feels his skin sticky as he rests his forehead on your shoulder, your fingers now flat against the muscle of his back as you breathe in deeply. You shift slightly beneath him, before patting his shoulder. "I don't…I can't get up, I don't think. I can't feel my legs." You rasp, and he chuckles into your skin.

"Yeah, that's usually what's supposed to happen." He replies smugly, earning a sharp smack from your hand in the middle of his back. "Ouch! What the hell!" "I told you to stop making fun of me!" You huff, and he moves to look at you. "I'm not! Did I not just give you two mind blowing orgasms?"

"I wouldn't say mindblowing–" He rolls his eyes as he covers your mouth. "I made you cum, which was the goal. Was it not?" "No, the goal was to get over my ex." You say, muffled by the palm of his hand. He ponders a bit, before looking down at you intently. "Well, are you?" You feel your cheeks flush as you look away. "Maybe. Might need to go again, don't know. Not fully convinced." "Not fully convinced, she says." He removes his hand from your mouth as he teases you gently, and you roll your eyes. "Okay, fine. You're good, you got me." You admit tiredly, and he smiles.

"For how long?" "What?" You look up at him, and he shrugs. "How long do I have you?" You let your eyes scan his face as he looks down at you with curiosity in his eyes. You scoff, an amused tone to your voice. "You like me." "Obviously." He rolls his eyes, "Otherwise I wouldn't have offered." "You sly little minx. Luring me in here with the premise of getting me over my ex, knowing I'm on the rebound." You poke his chest, and he scoffs. "Clearly, you like me too. Or else you could've absolutely dodged my offer." "Or maybe I think you're hot and wouldn't mind seeing you outside of the cute little necklaces my sister makes you wear." You tease, and he shrugs. "I'll take what I can get. Either way, do you feel better? Less thoughts about that idiot, more good feelings?" You nod, sitting up on your elbows. "Let me take you to dinner, Hoon." He blinks at you, before glancing at the clock on his nightstand. "It's two in the morning, babe." "Not right now. Later. After you're done babysitting." You say, and he raises his brows. "Are you sure?" "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to." Your tone is pointed, and he scoffs. "You want me so fucking bad." "In your dreams. Get off me, I'm all sticky."

He does just that, and takes the most gentle care of you. He lets you lean against him in the shower, he shampoos your hair and steals kisses when you least expect it. He changes his sheets while you try to sit comfortably in his desk chair, complaining of sore hips and thighs as he smirks to himself. "So much for a rebound, huh?" He murmurs into your hair as you snuggle into his side, making you snort. "Go to sleep, Sunghoon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, babe."

"Not your babe, Hoon."

"Not yet."

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sikkkko · 2 months ago

Text

ohhh nothing just sunghoon begging you to put it in… mdni, fem!reader

“fuck! pl-please, baby jus’… oh fuck—“ he chokes on his own words, his hips desperately bucking up to try and slip inside your wet cunt.

you smile down at him, your own hips hovering over his. his tip kisses your entrance, but you make no move to fully lower yourself. "hmm?" you hum innocently, your head tilting to the side almost mockingly.

sunghoon huffs at your feigned innocence, his head falling onto the soft pillow with a dull thud. he shuts his eyes, as if trying to gain some semblance of sanity.

unfortunately for him, you don't like the lack of response you get from him. you fully sit on him, your pussy and his cock pressing against each other but not inside. it elicits a low grunt out of him, his hands flying to your hips as he tries to get you to grind on him.

you don't.

dipping a hand between your thighs, you begin to rub your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp. you still smile at him, grinning at him coyly as he watches you with low-lidded eyes.

he can feel it. he can feel the way your pussy clenches around nothing, just practically begging for his cock to stuff you full. yet here you are, sitting on top of him and moaning purposefully to egg him.

and of course, it fucking works.

"o-okay! shit," he pants, lifting his head off the pillow to watch you rub your clit, the way you're quite literally dripping your arousal onto his aching dick. "please, my love."

you try to hide your growing, triumphant smile. you rub your clit faster, biting your lower lip as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach build up just from playing with yourself, from playing with sunghoon.

and he knows when you're close. "no!" he whines, his hand grabbing your wrist, trying to yank your hand away from touching yourself. "you can't cum like this, y-y'have to cum on my cock..."

you mockingly furrow your brows in confusion. "i was going to cum on your cock?" you muse, purposefully grinding your hips against him to emphasize that you are technically on his cock, just not inside.

he huffs again, a frustrated growl escaping him. "no, inside. you cum with my cock inside you," he pants breathlessly, like he had just ran a marathon. "please. please, baby. you have to, you need to, i need to be..." he rambles, his brows all furrowed and irritated.

and isn't it the hottest thing ever?

smiling like you had just won the fucking lottery, you lift your hips up and plap! his plump, kiss-swollen lips part into a half-moan, half-whine sound, his hands squeezing your hips like it was his lifeline.

"fu-yes. yesyesyes, thank you baby, shit!" he groans, now fully sitting up off the bed. his strong arms fully wrap around your entire body, pressing you impossibly closer to him.

and then he's manhandling you, moaning and thanking you in your ear as he moves you up and down his cock himself.

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sikkkko · 2 months ago

Note

!prompt!! jealousy finally makes sunghoon act and fuck, even with him in denial

please please please - psh (m)

sunghoon x f reader

synopsis: Sunghoon always played it cool—until he saw you with someone else, and suddenly, he wasn’t asking for you, he was taking you ✉️ wc2757 ‼️ jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content (oral sex, rough sex), language, slight exhibitionism, emotional tension, minor angst, heavy making out, marking (hickeys/bites)

💌 didnt understand a word said there hun but hopefully this works <3

It had only been a few weeks since you and Sunghoon moved in together. Things were still new, still soft around the edges. Boxes half-unpacked, routines not quite settled, kisses traded in the middle of lazy afternoons. It wasn’t official-official—no labels, no big confessions—but everything between you had felt right. Comfortable. Safe.

So when you casually mentioned your friend would be staying the night—“just for a bit, promise, he’s passing through”—Sunghoon didn’t think much of it.

Until he opened the door.

Jake.

Tall, sharp-jawed, with easy charm in his voice and pretty-boy eyes that lingered a beat too long when they met yours. His duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Hey, Hoon. Thanks for letting me crash.”

Sunghoon didn’t remember saying yes.

And you—fuck, you looked excited. Lit up, like this was someone you hadn’t seen in a while. Like this wasn’t just any friend.

Jake pulled you in for a hug, his hand resting low on your back, his mouth brushing close to your ear as he murmured something that made you laugh. That laugh again.

Sunghoon didn’t say a word.

He just watched.

Watched Jake sit next to you on the couch after dinner. Watched how your knees touched and you didn’t move away. Watched how Jake handed you his hoodie when you said you were cold, like it was second nature.

Watched how you wore it.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal.

But by midnight, when Jake was still up with you, flipping through old photos on your phone and laughing like he belonged here, Sunghoon was seething.

You eventually got up to grab water, leaving them alone in the living room.

Jake leaned back on the couch, glancing at him. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said casually, like they were just two guys catching up.

Sunghoon gave a tight smile. “I didn’t know her friend was a guy.”

Jake raised a brow. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Sunghoon muttered. “She didn’t.”

Jake shrugged, completely unbothered. “Well. Nothing to worry about, man. Y/N and I go way back. Totally platonic.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward the hallway, where you were still out of earshot.

His jaw clenched. His voice dropped.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Jake only grinned, like he could smell the tension in the room and was enjoying the hell out of it. He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, relaxed, confident, completely at ease in a space that wasn’t his. “Man, she’s changed a lot since we last hung out. Got hotter somehow,” he added with a little smirk.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink.

“Right. Real glow up,” he said flatly, taking a sip from his water bottle, eyes fixed on the TV even though it wasn’t playing anything.

Jake chuckled. “You two are roommates, right? Just roommates?”

Sunghoon’s grip on the bottle tightened.

You walked back in just then, Jake flashing you that stupid, too-pretty smile. “We were just catching up. You didn’t tell me Hoon was so protective.”

You laughed, sliding onto the couch beside him, not noticing the way Sunghoon’s eyes tracked how Jake shifted closer, thigh brushing yours.

“We’re not roommates,” you said, glancing at Sunghoon with a teasing look. “We live together.”

Jake raised a brow. “Same thing.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon said sharply—too sharply.

You blinked. “Hoon?”

His jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter.”

You and Jake kept chatting, the conversation picking up again like nothing happened, but Sunghoon barely heard a word. His head was loud—too loud. He kept telling himself he didn’t care. That you could be close with whoever you wanted. That he didn’t need to say anything because it wasn’t like that between you two.

Except it was.

Except the way Jake touched you made his blood boil.

Except the way you laughed at Jake’s stupid jokes made something burn low in his stomach.

And when you stretched your arms over your head, hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin, Jake’s eyes dropped to your waist and didn’t come back up right away.

Sunghoon stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You looked up, surprised. “Already?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at Jake. “Have fun catching up.”

Then he turned and walked down the hallway, hands clenched at his sides, breathing harder than he wanted to admit.

He shut the bedroom door behind him—but he didn’t sleep.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding in his chest as your voice carried faintly through the walls. Soft. Sweet. His.

You were his.

Even if he’d never said it. Even if he was too much of a coward to admit it out loud. Even if he was still pretending it didn’t mean anything—this thing between you.

But Jake?

Jake wasn’t pretending anything.

And that was going to be a problem.

The clock hit 1:14 a.m.

You were still out there with him.

Sunghoon rolled onto his side, arm tucked under his head, eyes trained on the door like it might open at any second. It didn’t. Laughter filtered faintly through the wall instead—yours and Jake’s. Low, intimate. The kind of laugh you gave when you were completely at ease. The kind of laugh Sunghoon heard in his dreams, usually when you were curled up against his chest in the early morning, half-asleep and warm.

He hated that Jake was hearing it now. Hearing you like that.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He kept telling himself to let it go. That you’d chosen to live with him, not Jake. That you came home to him, not Jake. That Jake was just a friend.

But something about the way Jake looked at you tonight…

Something about the way you looked back…

He didn’t like it.

And he really didn’t like that he couldn’t stop picturing Jake sitting closer. Testing limits. Making some slick little comment that made you blush. Maybe brushing your hair behind your ear. Maybe daring to touch your thigh the way only he should.

Sunghoon sat up. Too hot. Too tense. His jaw ached from clenching so hard.

Then he heard your voice. Closer this time.

You were walking down the hall.

His heart thumped.

A moment later, the door creaked open and you stepped inside, Jake’s hoodie still hanging loose around your frame, swallowing your body in fabric that smelled like him. Not Sunghoon.

You smiled sleepily. “Hey… I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the hoodie. His hoodie—the one he gave you a few nights ago when you were cold—was lying untouched on the desk chair behind you. Abandoned.

“No,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t wake me.”

You crossed the room, clearly unaware of the storm under his calm. “Jake says hi. He’s crashing on the couch now.”

Sunghoon hummed in response, barely a sound. You were already climbing into bed, pulling the covers over your legs.

“You okay?” you asked softly, glancing at him.

“Fine.”

You gave him a look, like you didn’t believe him—but you didn’t push. You just curled up on your side, facing away from him.

Silence.

His eyes dropped to your waist. The hem of the hoodie had ridden up just slightly, exposing the curve of your hip, your bare thigh peeking out. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under that. Not when you’d been lounging in the living room all night in it.

Wearing his hoodie like that would’ve had him touching you already.

But this? Jake’s?

“Take it off,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, turning back toward him. “What?”

Sunghoon’s eyes were sharp now, burning into yours in the dark.

“That hoodie. Take it off.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s his,” he said, voice low and tight. “And I don’t want to see you in it.”

You stared at him, surprised by the edge in his tone. “Sunghoon…”

He looked away. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, sitting up slowly. “Say it.”

“I did,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “I said take it off.”

You studied him in the silence that followed. The clenched jaw. The barely restrained tension. The heat in his eyes that didn’t match the coolness of his words.

“…Are you jealous?”

He scoffed. “Why would I be?”

You smirked just a little, like you knew exactly why.

That made it worse.

Sunghoon lay back down and turned away from you, teeth gritted, fists curled into the sheets.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

He just didn’t want Jake looking at you like that. Touching you like that. Making you laugh like that.

That wasn’t jealousy.

That was… something else.

Right?

The morning after was quiet.

Too quiet.

You were making coffee in the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep, dressed in one of Sunghoon’s old tees—thankfully his again this time. Jake wandered in behind you, yawning, stretching, acting like this was his place too. Sunghoon sat at the dining table, nursing a mug of black coffee he hadn’t touched, eyes following every move you made.

He watched as Jake leaned casually against the counter beside you, close—too close.

Watched as you laughed at something Jake said.

Watched as Jake’s hand slipped to your shoulder, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of your shirt. “God, you’re still the same,” Jake said, chuckling. “Always trying to make people feel at home, even when you’re half asleep.”

You smiled. “Well, you are a guest.”

Sunghoon’s knuckles went white around his mug.

Jake’s hand didn’t move.

It stayed right there on your shoulder, fingertips warm, possessive, easy like it belonged there.

Sunghoon stood up so fast the chair scraped harshly against the floor. You and Jake both turned to look at him—but before either of you could say a word, Sunghoon was already moving.

He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed your waist with both hands, and pulled you in without hesitation.

Then his mouth was on yours.

Hard. Hot. Unapologetic.

You gasped, hands bracing on his chest in shock, but he didn’t stop. His grip tightened, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair as his lips crashed over yours again—claiming, tasting, devouring. Like he’d been starving.

You barely had a second to react before he broke the kiss, just enough to speak against your lips.

“He doesn’t get to touch you.”

Your eyes widened, breath caught in your throat. “Sunghoon—”

But he kissed you again—this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to burn the taste of you into memory. Like he wanted Jake to see exactly what you meant to him.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly behind you. “Dude, seriously?”

Sunghoon pulled away just enough to turn his head, his arm still locked around your waist.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, eyes cold. “Seriously.”

Jake looked between you two, lips parting like he wanted to say something smart—but for once, he didn’t. He just blinked, muttered something under his breath, and grabbed his mug to leave the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned back to Sunghoon, dazed and breathless.

“…What the hell was that?”

His eyes searched yours, like he couldn’t believe he just did that either. But the flush creeping up his neck said everything he wouldn’t.

“I’m not just your roommate,” he said hoarsely. “And he’s not just a friend. Not when he looks at you like that.”

You stared at him, stunned.

Then a smile tugged at your lips.

“Took you long enough.”

You barely made it to the bedroom before Sunghoon had you pinned against the door, mouth already on your neck, hands roaming with a desperation that had been building for weeks—months, maybe.

“Fucking knew he wanted you,” he growled against your skin, nipping hard just below your ear, “but he’s not the one you come home to, is he?”

You shook your head, breath catching. “N-No.”

“Say it.”

“He’s not,” you gasped. “He’s not you.”

Sunghoon kissed you again, rough and possessive, tugging at the hem of your shirt until it was over your head and on the floor. His eyes dragged down your body like he was seeing it for the first time—like Jake’s hands on you had flipped a switch he couldn’t shut off.

“You’re mine,” he said lowly, pushing you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Mine to look at. Mine to fuck. Not his.”

Then he shoved you down.

You bounced lightly against the mattress, eyes wide and lips parted, heat pooling between your thighs at the sight of him stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. He crawled over you, caging you in, and leaned down until your noses were nearly touching.

“Bet he thought about it last night,” he whispered. “You in that hoodie. No panties underneath. Just walking around like that.”

You whimpered, his hand sliding between your legs, pressing through the damp fabric of your underwear.

“He doesn’t get to know what you sound like when you beg,” he murmured. “But he’s about to hear it.”

He yanked your panties down, tossing them somewhere behind him, and spread your thighs wide open with a firm grip. His eyes were dark, wild, hungry.

“Say my name,” he ordered as he dipped his head between your legs.

“Sunghoon—!”

You cried out the second his tongue touched you, hot and wet and unrelenting. He licked into you with long, slow strokes, groaning against your heat like he needed it. One arm hooked around your thigh, keeping you locked in place as your hips bucked up toward his face.

Every gasp, every moan, every yes, right there, echoed loud and clear through the thin walls.

And Sunghoon made no effort to be quiet. In fact, he made it louder.

He pulled off for just a second, voice thick and soaked in pride.

“Think he’s listening, baby?” he panted, licking his lips. “Think he knows I’m the one making you cum?”

You could barely answer before he buried two fingers inside you, curling just right, and sucked your clit back into his mouth.

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, back arching off the bed as you cried his name like a prayer—over and over again.

Sunghoon didn’t stop until you were shaking, flushed, completely wrecked.

Then he climbed up your body, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, your lips—messy and deep and full of everything he hadn’t said before.

“You think he can make you feel like that?” he whispered, lining himself up at your entrance. “Let him listen to what he can’t have.”

And then he pushed in.

Hard.

You both moaned—loud, shameless, hungry. The bed rocked under the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. You couldn’t stop the sounds he dragged out of you even if you wanted to—whimpers and cries and broken sobs of please, more, don’t stop.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, gripping your hips tight. “Yeah… that’s it. Louder. Let him fucking hear how good I make you feel.”

He angled his hips and hit that spot—your voice cracked.

“Sunghoon—fuck—!”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled. “Scream for me.”

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